#next mission: custom ME shrine. i will do it.

[un-pearable]

WAIT I NEVER SHOWED YOU

THEM

[rmorde]

A concept that won't leave me in peace.

Soooo... A previous Six Eyes (SE) was murdered by Kenjaku. Screw the timeline and let's think that he did it while possessing Noritoshi Kamo.

The Gojo Clan declared the Kamo Clan as culprits for the assassination. It sadly didn't go anywhere because the Zenin Clan backed Kamos for political reasons. This made the Gojos seethe.

The 4th SE was born. They grew up long enough to stop Kenjaku again. However, their life was cut short in a duel against the Zenin's clan head. Again, the Gojos demanded reparations. They were ignored as the Kamos returned the favor and supported the Zenins.

Naturally, the Gojos went "Fuck this shit. We're out." And I mean really out. They had all their active sorcerers pulled out from everywhere. They literally burned their bridges by destroying their own compound to hide their traces so no one from the jujutsu society will ever find them again.

There was a great diaspora of the Gojo clans. They set roots in places far away and unexpected by the other clans to avoid further assassination attempts on their precious SE.

The Gojos became a strong-knit family after the complete disregard for the death of their leader twice. Even if they were apart and in hiding, they did their best to keep in touch in a variety of ways both mundane and magical.

And so, the Gojos successfully integrated themselves into society as sorcerers hiding in plain sight:

The main family founded a successful and powerful corporation in the tech industry. Through the use of a CT, the Gojos mass produced products that can pass as talismans to ward off curses from their customers.

One branch family entrenched themselves in the entertainment industry. Through musicians and dancers, they can enhance any Gojo products' potency as long as they are within range of their live performance or recordings in play. Actors, models, photographers, news reporters, and filming crew are the "field" agents in exorcising curses as they work their day jobs.

Another branch is in the pharmaceutical industry and is making their way slowly to the top. They don't have yet the perfect CT that can help make their products useful against curses but they are working hard on it.

A select few went into various temples, shrines, churches, hospitals, and the police. Their roles are akin to spies. Any curse or sorcerer-related cases tend to be reported there first. They are still mulling about going into politics and the food industry.

The reason behind their drive to succeed both in and out of jujutsu related everything is pure spite. They are living up the motto "I can live without you but can never live without me."

Beating the Zenins and the Kamos regarding sorceries without them being the wiser is their clan's mission. The two clans' frustration is a great source of entertainment for the Gojos ever since one of them had a CT that is like an SE offshoot that allows them to observe a room at a great distance. That particular Gojo infiltrated Tokyo and Kyoto jujutsu schools as a janitor to set up discreet "spy cams".

However, the Gojos do feel bad about the non-clan affiliated sorcerers. So they try to alleviate their burden by helping in a round about way to avoid revealing themselves.

Then, Satoru was born and he was spoiled rotten albeit suffocated. He is treated like the next best thing since sliced bread, the ultimate weapon, and a fine porcelain doll.

Satoru's childhood is a bit confusing but Satoru knows he is the clan's greatest darling. Adults are fighting over what he'd be in the future. Will he inherit the tech company? Should he go into acting or singing? Maybe he'd be charismatic enough to be a politician. A model was a good option too or an an athlete!

All plans were put into a halt though when the Gojo in the police department found Riko in a car accident. They learned she was a potential Star Plasma Vessel (SPV). So they took her and her maid in.

Satoru instantly fell in love at being an older brother. He wished for Riko to be his little sister to protect and spoil.

The Gojos know the SE, SPV, and Tengen have a weird connection with each other. They were wary about having the two children close and having the Amanais as part of the family. However, one look from two pairs of big baby blues and the entire family folded.

Tough luck for Tengen. The Gojo clan do not bear the old sorcerer any grudge but they are just really weak against this generations' SE and SPV. They unanimously decided to let them live a long satisfying life as much as possible. Tengen would be fine on their own.

So, Satoru Gojo and Riko Amanai became Satoru Misato and Riko Misato. They live an ordinary life together with their Aunt Kuroi Misato. They are students by day and exorcists (with a legion of chaperones/guards) at night. They are living up the superhero vigilante life.

Then a Meet Cute happens between Riko and Yu one mission gone wrong. Nanami gets slapped in the face. Then it is hate at first sight between Satoru and Suguru because they stole each other's first kiss Naruto style.

[yugenronin]

@mahotoai​ [continued from ask]

Turning his head over his shoulder, he slowly raises a brow at the offer of sake and the woman in question. This was... "... And you are?" He wasn't going to be drinking with a nobody -- especially someone who didn't answer with their name. "I don't drink with just anyone." He hadn't even had a drink with the other present Guardians. He usually only tagged along when a mission was present and then afterwards, he was doing whatever he wished.

But come to think of it... "Are you Mochizuki's sister?" They did look alike and with sensitive hearing, well, you hear things.

“Oooh, so you know. Mochizuki Chizuru, that is me, yes. Did my brother say anything about me to you? What a terrifying thought.”

Her sarcasm was clear in every way, from the tone of her voice to her exaggerated body language. The giant sake bottle stood tall next to her as she gave it a good smack on the side. 

“What do you say to a drinking party at the shrine? We can start now if you want, sure would make it easier to get this thing the rest of the way up the mountain.”

The bottle was heavy. Very heavy. The fact she got it that far up the mountain on her own was impressive, much less the amount of effort it would have taken to have a custom made giant bottle filled with high quality alcohol. She had resources, that much was certain, and here she was using them to make a joke. Grouchy new guy? Well, what better way to bribe the grumpy ones than with liquid joy? Plus, it would annoy her brother, so even if Hajime didn’t want it... still a win!

[kaibutsushidousha]

Cat, Ghost, and Revolution Sunday (Sagrada Reset 1) - Chapter 2: The events from Wednesday (part 5)

[INDEX]

July 14th (Friday) – Two days before the starting point

July 14th, Friday. The day the cat's accident was supposed to happen.

Kei got out of bed not long after 5 AM. He was terribly sleepy. After taking a break a while past midnight, the rain outside his window had resumed hammering the ground.

Kei washed his face, put on his uniform, and left his apartment. He headed to the bakery under the rain.

(Since I'm keeping watch until 9 AM, I'll be late for school, but Tsushima can do something about that. The school acknowledges the Service Club's value. If people from sports clubs can skip classes when they need to train for tournaments, then so can we.)

Kei arrived at the bakery 5 minutes before the scheduled time. Haruki and Nonoo were already waiting by the door. This was their first time seeing Nonoo outside of her shrine. As Nonoo walked around the shopping district with her blue umbrella up, she looked just like an ordinary high schooler you could find anywhere.

(The cat is nowhere to be seen. Great. At the very least, the accident hasn't happened yet.)

"Good morning. You're here early."

Kei waved and called them. His voice wasn't fully clear because he was still sleepy.

Haruki answered his good morning, but Nonoo just nodded. Like Kei, she was also not a morning person.

Kei didn't have the will to keep talking, so he started looking around. The city was empty in the early morning. Even the dogs weren't walking around due to the rain.

At 6:00, the bakery raised its shutters. Only one customer entered the bakery in the first 30 minutes. A woman in her twenties, wearing a suit. The bakery stayed open this first half an hour just for her.

6:30. The second customer, Kei, entered the bakery. Since they needed to watch the street, they took turns choosing their breakfasts.

The shelves were only half-filled. Kei bought two pieces of the most freshly baked bread. A small french bread filled with cheese, and thinner bread with coleseed. Haruki bought a croissant whipped cream sandwich. Nonoo bought anpan and milk.

(Freshly baked bread is great. It's so obvious it's easy to forget, but timing is essential. Pretty much everything can be better with optimal timing. On the flip side, terrible timing can get a cat ran over by a car. It'd be really nice if everything made its optimal timing more evident like this morning bread does.)

Haruki poured tea into her bottle's cap. By the time she finished drinking it, Kei was already feeling awake.

"Do you think the cat will be here?", asked Haruki.

"Good question. I'd be relieved if he did."

Nonoo took a bite out of her anpan and then drank some milk straight from the bottle.

"I'll check. Asai, chat with me."

"Hm... Can I talk about what I dreamed tonight?"

"It's a start. What did you dream?"

"It was a nice dream."

Kei noticed he lied. It was a chaotic, incomprehensible dream.

(Welp, the ship's already sailed. I guess I'll have to make things up.)

"I met a really pretty girl. Rich, also. Everyone loved her."

"And you hooked up with her?"

"Maybe? Either that or I was her."

Kei looked around as he answered. No cats in sight. No cars on the street. No signs of the accident at the point.

"You want to be a woman?"

"I'd be fine with any gender. But I do want to be rich and loved by everyone."

A simple form of happiness anyone could understand.

"But weren't there a lot of men asking you out?"

"I was more popular with younger girls."

The contents of the dream really didn't matter. He could have instead said older women and nothing would have changed. All he cared about was making it happy and peaceful.

"Did you dream tonight, Nonoo?"

"I think I did. But I can't remember. I did wake up feeling somewhat lonely."

"Do you want to remember it?"

"Not really. ... It's not working. I can't use my ability."

(What a bummer. That's not the best moment to get sleepy. Her ability's activation conditions are surprisingly tough. Intentionally blurring your consciousness is practically a paradox. Maybe she should study Zen meditation.)

They try to keep talking for a while longer, but it wasn't working. Nonoo was probably too tense since the time of the accident was approaching.

Kei wasn't prioritizing the cat's rescue much that day. His main mission was verifying information. The exact time and place of the accident, where the cat comes from, what car hits it.

(Knowing that is enough to guarantee the cat's rescue on the next Reset. I could stand on the street at the right time. I could use a smoke bomb. There're many ways to stop a car. The driver might yell at me, but I'll just need to listen and apologize.)

Time passed slowly. A lot more people were coming to the bakery, and cars started passing by. Kei checked the time on his phone. 7:30. Still too early for the cat to appear.

"What are you doing if he doesn't appear?", Nonoo asked.

"Nothing. That would mean the accident was already avoided. I'd ask you to check the cat's safety and call it a day."

Kei was lying. He knew he wouldn't be able to rest until he found out the truth behind Murase Youka's request. But he didn't need to get Nonoo even more anxious for no reason.

"What are you planning to do, Nonoo?"

"I'll keep watch on him for a while. If he's happy with being a pet, that's fine by me. If he decides to go back to the stray life, that's fine as well."

"Can you tell me if you discover who the owner is? I want to visit the boy if I can."

"Sure."

All Kei was hired to do was to save the cat, but someone was pulling strings for something else. He still didn't know the mastermind's identity or intentions. He couldn't decide if he was supposed to pry or not. On one hand, his curiosity drove him to want to know everything, but on the other, delving too deep could have unwanted consequences.

("If us being manipulated makes someone’s life happier, then it’s all good." That's what I told Haruki. I really meant what I said. But I can't overlook the possibility of some of someone taking advantage of our Resets behind our backs.)

His thoughts were interrupted by Nonoo.

"A voice."

Nonoo started running.

"What voice? A cat's?"

Kei hadn't heard anything.

"I have no doubts. It's him."

"You have good ears."

"I do. Good eyes, too."

Nonoo entered a narrow alley. Kei and Haruki followed her in. When they reached the corner, Kei had also started hearing the meows.

They stopped.

A cat was in the alley. A gray cat with a crooked tail. He was being held on slender arms. Kei knew the person holding him, but he wasn't expecting to see her here.

She, Murase Youka, glared at Kei through her glasses, with the same sullen eyes she had in his memories. The cat meowed again and jumped off of Murase's arms. He walked straight to Nonoo and rubbed himself against her feet. Murase watched him the whole time.

No one spoke a word. Haruki and Nonoo didn't know Murase's face. She shouldn't know them either. Kei didn't know how to talk to her at that point, but he couldn't remain silent forever.

"Good morning, Murase. Do you remember me?"

Kei spoke as casually as he could. But at the same time, he observed her expression carefully. If the Reset worked, she was seeing Kei for the first time.

He saw her tense up her lips, but she immediately turned away and started walking.

"Wait."

Kei called her, but she didn't turn back. He instinctively followed her.

Murase whispered something.

And then she immediately flew away and disappeared past the buildings.

[talesofsonicasura]

Unappreciated Hunter

A Monster Hunter encounters Hat Kid and helps her out. Didn't know he was going to get dragged into her weird life.

Kokoto, the village of strong and tough Monster Hunters. The citizens can be quite pushy to traveling hunters and at higher levels when it revolves around ex guild hunters. Any hunter from Kokoto would judge and mock any fellow warrior 'not worth their salt'. Even the Felyne that runs the cafetine there is quite rude.

Yet, it was the only place to acquire certain materials or ingredients which is important for any that travels in monster infested lands. Items that couldn't be found anywhere else. After all it was also a popular merchant village, considering the village chief was a retired Legendary Hunter. Guess the high standards considering hunters was slightly justified.

"...And fuck you too! Go kiss a Congala's ass if that's how you treat your customers!" Angry swearing was also guaranteed as a white haired man stormed out of a shop in rage. Long silver locks tied into a wild ponytail, tannish skin balanced by lean yet rock hard muscle, eyes were a bright blue highlighted by black stripe outlines, and stood at an intimidating 7'2 in height.

His clothes consisted of a long beige winter coat with blue and red triangle patterned cuffs alongside large cotton ball looking buttons, beige long trousers with white puffy cuffs, black hiking boots made out of some sort of reptilian hide and white fur gloves. In his hand was a woven straw basket filled with fruit, cheeses, spices and herbs.

The man let an aggravated sigh before trying to cool his temper. "Come on Kahtal. Don't let that asshat get to you. Plus Nekona those need the ingredients and getting blacklisted from every shop went help." He or Kahtal said rubbing his hand against the side of his head. He took a deep breath and continued to the next vendor.

Well, he would if a soft sparkle of light hadn't grabbed his attention. This tinge of light was a mystifying soft blue and looked to be near the Hero Shrine by the village's oldest tree. Curiosity getting the best of him, he walked over to the odd phenomenon awarely ignorant to disapproving glances from some of the village hunters.

The Hero Shrine was essentially a tree that held the Hero's Shield and the stone before carrying the Hero's Blade. Weapons used by Kokoto's chief to defeat a powerful Elder Dragon known as Lao-Shan-Lung. What really got Kahtal's attention was what sat slightly embedded into the earth a bit far from the shrine.

This item looked like an hourglass, well a very weird hourglass. The glass was crystal clear that sparkled but held no sand in it, the rims that kept it together had two gold beads sandwiching a purple hat shaped and the soft glow that radiated from the very object. It was beautiful and incredibly well crafted from Kahtal's perspective.

"Who could make something like this and where's their owner?" Kahtal picked up the item carefully while speaking his thoughts to himself. One thing he did know was it looked to be very important and not the type of item to be trashed carelessly. Someone clearly lost it. His thoughts were interrupted by a soft 'Hey!'.

The young man looked down to see his leg was being tugged by a little girl. She had soft peach skin paired with curly brown hair in a back ponytail and topped with a purple top hat that had a gold ribbon, bright blue eyes and little nose. She wore a purple shirt with a light gold cape, white trousers and black little shoes. On her back was a light blue umbrella covered in stickers.

"Um, hi there. Sorry I didn't notice you." Kahtal said with a sheepish look on his face. The peculiar little girl let out a tiny giggle before nodding. She then pointed at the hourglass in his hand. The man took a glance at her hat and the hat beads on the hourglass. They were the exact same.

"Does this belong to you? I found it dugged a bit into the ground over there." He pointed at the little hole in the grass. The little girl nodded heavily with a polite smile on her face. Kahtal guessed she was a selective mute as the only word she spoke was 'Hey' in order to get his attention.

"Well, here you go. You're lucky I found it. I don't think any other passerby would have given it back." The young man handed the child the hourglass carefully as to not drop it. She took the peculiar item and hugged it before hugging his leg in appreciation. Kahtal let out a soft chuckle before patting her head.

"I must be going. My friend is waiting for me outside the village with these groceries. Take care." The little girl nodded at his words before whispering a soft quiet 'thank you'. Both went their separate ways and Kahtal's mood was much better after that.

The next time he saw the little girl or the fact he met her again at all was in the worst place a child should never be. There are places in this monster filled world that normal people aren't allowed to travel alone. Only ones who could were merchants, caravans and most highly monster hunters. Kahtal was the latter of this group.

A mission was sent to his personal home by a messenger Kinsect. The client wanted him to gather some Coal from an area known as the Volcanic Hollow. A large string of caverns found within a monstrous supervolcano. The intense heat in the deeper sections made it a cozy home for all sorts of deep dwelling monsters and perfect place to gather ores.

It looked like a simple quest but these types of missions usually had something dangerous causing problems in the background. A pretty accurate assumption to make as there was a Subquest at the bottom. An extra piece of mission that was optional for the Hunter but meant extra pay if taken.

This particular Subquest was asking for him to stop a Uragaan who was causing a ruckus down there. Uragaan also known as the Burst Hammer Wyvern, a large Brute Wyvern that can create powerful tremors by slamming its armored jaw into the ground and rolling over any foolish creature to aggravate it. Their diet consisting of ores made it dangerous for any miner who accidentally runs into one.

Gathering supplies to keep him properly cool in the hotter areas were necessary since having a heatstroke in a volcano was the worst way to go. Once preparations were made and gear was set, the hunter set off to Volcanic Hollow. Dealing with the Burst Hammer Wyvern was the first thing needed to be done before even thinking of digging for coal.

This definitely wasn't a place normal people should travel through. A simple thought of a little girl in purple strolling through the lava heated caverns. The interior of a volcano was less lava-y than any she had seen before. First spot to find after jumping down the mouth was a few small conjoining clifftops and some natural hot springs by them.

Only things other than two paths that didn't go deeper down and one that did were the strange green doggy faced creatures munching on whatever plants or mushrooms growing there. They gave her odd looks but just minded their business and continued to graze. Next spot had multiple small lava pools and two were branching paths with one that meant another big jump.

There were some mean reddish snake bird worm things that tried to bite or whack her with their tail. She clobbered them multiple times with her umbrella before they got the hint and ran. This time the child decided to take the side path instead of a large jump. Big mistake on her part.

The room was pretty with a huge amber column at the center that was in a beehive like formation and more smaller red ones that added extra support. Bright sapphire blue crystals and ruby red crystals sticking from the ground in a roundish rectangular form. If only she noticed that the odd growing gold stone on the ground was a monster's tail.

"Aaaaaaah!!!" Echoed the screams of a little girl through a mountainous deep section of the volcano. Tiny stream of water pouring down the cliffs to the large molten ground below shook with the tremors of heavy footsteps. The little purple hatted girl ran across the reddish dirt as a large beast followed her relentlessly.

It was a large reptilian creature that could honestly be mistaken as a dinosaur from the powerful looking legs but underdeveloped tiny arms. Its face was round dark brownish scaled except for its huge orangish color jaw, from its head to the very long rounded tail were large flat topped amber crystals that were positioned in the way tires are to leave tracks, thick muscled legs with sharp claws and bright green eyes that burned with rage.

The 25 ft tall brute looked a bit beaten up but the little girl would admit personally that she had nothing to do with it. Of course it didn't matter since the lizard monster was still angry and probably cranky for her poking its tail with an UMBRELLA. If she ever got out of here alive, she would never come back...maybe.

The giant then let out a painted cry as the ground shook hard nearly making the child lose her footing. She flipped around to understand what happened. Giant lizard thing had been slammed to the ground by someone covered in armor and holding what looked to be a sword and shield. The shield part slammed into the mean beast's head.

The armor was a bright crimson with light summer colors such as orange and gold fitted to its feudal samurai look. Chest plate had an orange triangle coming from the bottom as it pointed to two cogs on the separate sides that were connected by a thick white rope, a giant red cape with big fancy and fluffy gold rims, red shield shaped plates covering a gold rim red skilt, red armor gauntlets and boots but the cool thing was the mask.

It was faceless with eye slots but large red horns that went back and curved at the end but also orange along with a large white mane that was in the back. The shield was lustrous ruby with a gold wheel on the surface and a cog with two golden hour hands at the center. And the sword had a crystalline blade that started before ending in a reddish violet at tip and punk looking half gold claw hilt to a silver handle.

Eyes from the helmet looked at her before the masked man pulled his helmet a bit to show Kahtal's face. "You're the little girl I met in Kokoto! How did you get into the Volcanic Hollow?!" He cut off his words when the monster or Uragaan began to move underneath him. The man bashed the beast's head with his shield before getting into its face.

It immediately flinched upon the pair of eyes glaring back into its own. They weren't of a man but of a beast. Bigger, meaner and absolutely powerful. The glare of an Alpha. "You better stay down and don't try anything. So much as harm a hair on that little girl's head then consider your life forfeit. Now sit!" Voice was heavy as steel and the tone brimming with pure dominance.

Uragaan shivered violently before seating itself to the floor once Kahtal stepped off the beast's head. He gave the large brute a glance before sheathing both his blade and shield onto his back. Then the silverette turned to the most impossible thing to run around in a volcano. The little girl who had looks of awe in her eyes now lost it upon the look she was getting from the hunter.

"What are you doing here? This isn't a safe place for people much less little girls. Especially ones that somehow managed to have a Uragaan chase them. The species isn't called Burst Hammer Wyvern for no reason." Kahtal spoke pointing at the specific cowering dragon behind him.

"I wanted to see you! You gave me my Time Piece back so I thought you wanted to be my friend! And I got here from my ship since it said you were somewhere around here." There was a bunch of childish pep and cheer to her voice like it was natural despite the guilty look on her face. Or the fact she was nervously poking her fingers together.

Now he had a lot of questions but knew that the inside of a volcano wasn't the place to discuss it. "Let's talk about it once we're back at the camp on top of the volcano. And you!" The Burst Hammer Wyvern flinched upon Kahtal pointing his finger at the beast. It was still scared at the much smaller human man.

"You are being relocated to an island unreachable to human civilization. A winged companion of mine will be picking you up so stay put! Behave then I'll forget about you trying to trample a little girl and maybe add in some yummier ores than the ones down here." The knowledge of the alpha human forgiving him, a new home and chance of a tasty treat had the Uragaan positively complacent with his current position.

Kahtal took out what looked to be a signal gun before firing a green smoke round into the air. The flare spilling green smoke out into the volcano's entrance paired with a lime like scent. Once that flare was shot, Kahtal picked up the little girl and hoisted her on his back. He then took off ignoring the sound of large flapping wings or the sound of shock in the other room that he left the Uragaan in.

The volcano top had a small makeshift camp settled a good space from the mouth to the heated mountain. A simple tent that provided cover from the sun for a large mattress, two large crates with one blue and the other red, and a few makeshift fence blockades. Kahtal was now looking at the little child with a ludicrous look.

"So your name is Hat Kid, and you're an alien refugee from another world. You came here because a Timepiece, which is the fuel for your ship somehow crashlands in Kokoto village. After I returned it to you, you tried to find me again so I can be your friend and hangout with you." The hunter questioned while holding his helmet in his right hand.

The little girl or Hat Kid sat on the queen sized mattress next to Kahtal while she told him her tale. She was nodding at every inquiry he had got from the hat wearing child. "Normally I treat that kind of stuff as Congala crap if I haven't taken in consideration the evidence. A glowing hourglass with no sand isn't normal, a little girl managing to get into a place that is blacklisted to Low Rank Hunters or the fact you got to one of the deepest levels, and NOT die from lethal heatstroke."

Hat Kid looked a bit sheepish when he brought back her little volcano adventure but was glad he did believe her. Kahtal then stood up from the bed and looked at the alien child. "My friend is taking the Uragaan to a new habitat and won't be back for an hour. Might as well take me to your ship." He did think her insane attempt to find him should at least be rewarded...only this one time.

A big smile grew on her face before she ran over and took his free hand immediately. The older man would admit he didn't expect the both of them to float before shooting off into the sky. They were going up so fast that he saw the darkness of space and the shining stars. And like a light switch, Kahtal wasn't outside the volcano but now in a little girl's very odd bedroom.

The odd things being the sea of pillows a good distance from the bed, lights on the ceiling, glass screen viewing the vacuum of space, odd candles that sit by said pit or the giant burnt noodle reading at the top of the staircase by said pillow sea. "Hey! I heard that!" A sheepish look crossed his face. The last part he accidentally spoke out loud.

The offended noodle had a glowing yellow face found on children's jack o' lanterns: circular eyes and the big childish mouth with two fangs, a mane of dark purple that was the same color as his body, spindly arms that ended with two finger ovenmitts that clearly was hiding claws and a long spindly tail making his height around 20 ft long.

"You know kiddo I don't know what's worse. The fact you brought a pecking knight of all things on board or the fact he was rude to me: the all handsome, powerful and soul eating, Snatcher! It's also really rude to insult the dead." The now named specter or Snatcher said while his last bit was deadpan unlike the bolster before in his distorted echo voice.

Kathal's response to this was a raised eyebrow. "First off, I didn't mean to say that out loud so sorry for that. Second, why tell me that you are a soul eating ghost when I'm a 'knight' to you. And third, the proper term is Monster Hunter not Monster Slayer. Unless your causing trouble on my planet that make people send out a request to hunt you, then I won't stab you with my blade and relocate your hide." The mortal man listed with his fingers and pure nonchalance.

The ghost set aside his book so he wouldn't lose in the sea of bed material before slithering over to the armored man. Size difference between them was now clearer than before but Kahtal still had a passive look on his face. "And don't you have quite a snarky side to ya, kiddo." Snatcher chuckles while Kahtal glared back.

"The name is Kahtal Shinsu and I'm a 32 year old man. I am definitely not a kid because last I checked, children don't have an 7'2 body with an eight pack." The silverette's rebuttal didn't make the ghost's smile go away. It only made it more mischievous looking as the 20 ft noodle laughed.

"And I'm over 300 years old which makes ya a mere baby in comparison. An eight pack huh? Definitely the type of muscle for some dirty work back in my forest!" Snatcher said while placing an arm around the hunter's shoulder in a 'buddy' manner. Hat Kid then tugged on his leg for giving him an inquisitive look.

The 'What were you doing' look obviously wanting to know why he was in the Volcanic Hollow in the first place. "I had a job there. My client wanted me to gather 30 pieces of coal from the volcano. There was a bonus quest to deal with that Uragaan who was chasing my hatted companion here." Spotting what looked to be a chalkboard, Kahtal strolled over to it.

Taking a piece of chalk, he sketched out a fully detailed picture of the mentioned Burst Hammer Wyvern minus the injuries from before, all in the span of a minute and the word Uragaan next to it. Snatcher floated over and looked at the image with interest. "Sure looks like quite a brute! No wonder the kiddo looked ready to drop. Gave her a run for her money! Ah Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha!" He then looked at Kahtal.

"This was also an extra part of the current job description? That makes you an even better contractor for me to hire! Honestly there is some work in my domain that needs a more refined touch than Hat Brat there. She has a habit of making quite the mess." The little girl in question gave him a raspberry.

"Well, you'll need to have a request paper ready. Usually I have a Kinsect deliver me jobs to my home since I'm more of a freelance hunter." Kahtal then drew at the bottom of the board a peculiar bug of sorts. It looked like a scarab but the wings and size were wrong.

"Really now? I don't know where you live but I can mark it down if you take this back." The man didn't expect for the ghost's hand to ignite in blue fire. Or that fire to form a dark purple version of what the kinsect he drew but had the same jack o' lantern smile Snatcher has on their wings. Kahtal would mark it to be creation magic.

"This Kinsnatch here will be delivering any jobs I have for ya. And a bit more." The last bit was a whisper before Snatcher put the magic made insect in the hunter's hands. He looked at the odd insect and immediately knew this was going to be trouble.

Lucky thing was he got dropped off the same place he was before allowing his own alien abduction. And his current ride had just returned. Bad news was how damn aggravating that purple ghost was going to be in the future.

Hey everyone! Sorry not updating the blog for quite a bit. Life is crazy and honestly been trying to handle with some changes to my home.

This story is an experimental crossover using Monster Hunter and A Hat in Time. I wanted to try my hand at writing a Monster Hunter fic but also wanted that kind of vibe you get exploring in different chapters like you do for a A Hat In Time.

Hope you guys enjoyed it! Stay safe and healthy folks!

This is the armor used and the monster Uragaan!

[osakaso5]

Spirit Kaleidoscope: Empty Absolution

Chapter 12 - Aoi's Story

Chapter Index

Hikagemachi's Main Street

Karasutengu: It's time for the second  match! From the yokai, we have Kyubi-no-Kitsune!   From the humans, we have Uta, member of the  first katanashu squadron!

Kyubi-no-Kitsune & Uta: .......

The Yokai: Uooooh..!

Momiji: ...That's some loud cheering.

Madoka: ...They sound way more excited than with me and Kamaitachi, huh?

Madoka: I know Kyubi-no-Kitsune's popular, but it's a little depressing.

Hanabusa: .......

Momiji: ...Commander Hanabusa? Is something bothering you?

Hanabusa: ...Yes. The second match is about to start, and Aoi hasn't returned yet.

Momiji: Now that you mention it... He'll be fighting next.

Hanabusa: ...Momiji. Go look for him. Make sure he's back before the third match.

Hanabusa: He's most likely at the forest plaza. I last saw him near the encampment near the area.

Momiji: Understood.

Hanabusa: I'm counting on you.

Madoka: Ah. You're gonna go look for Aoi? In that case... Here.

Momiji: ...Something wrapped in a white cloth..? What is it?

Madoka: I took a peek inside, and it was a bamboo pipe. Aoi dropped it.

Madoka: I think he brought it for the tournament. Give it back to him, while you're at it.

Momiji: A bamboo pipe..? Alright, I will.

Madoka: Thanks.

- - - -

Kyubi-no-Kitsune: ...Yawn...

Uta: Hey, Owner. You sure you have the time to be yawning before your match?

Kyubi-no-Kitsune: I guess not... I'll ruin the reputation of my restaurant if I lose to a customer.

Uta: Don't antagonize your customers too much, unless you wanna get hurt. Some might file complaints or skip out on their bill.

Kyubi-no-Kitsune: Fufu. Hurt, eh. If you manage to do that to me, I'll give you a lifetime pass to all the ramen you can eat.

Uta: Huh!? Seriously!?

Kyubi-no-Kitsune: I'm completely serious.

Kyubi-no-Kitsune: So entertain me, would you? This city is so peaceful, so curious, so jovial, so boring... It makes me want to vomit.

Uta: Okay, got it. It's a promise!

Karasutengu: Are you done talking?

Uta: ...Ah...

Karasutengu: Hey, Uta. Too bad you have no place to hide from me this time.

Uta: ...Ahaha, you're such a jokester. I wouldn't hide from you, Karasutengu-san.

Karasutengu: Yeah, right. Did you forget I'm a clairvoyant? ...The next time you run away from me, I'll blow you away with my fan.

Uta: Aaah...

Kyubi-no-Kitsune: You can do the small talk some other time. Or would you rather I step down?

Karasutengu: Oh, right. The tournament's more important right now. Give me a good show, alright?

Karasutengu: Now, get ready.

Kyubi-no-Kitsune & Uta: .......

Karasutengu: ...Begin the second match!

The Yokai: Aaaaaaagh..!

Forest on the Outskirts of Town - Near the Plaza

Tap tap tap....

Azuma: Huff, wheeze... I think we've lost him.

Sana: Huff, huff... Probably..! ...Ungaikyo didn't even chase after us.

Sana: We shouldn't let our guard down before we get to the grotto... Ah...

Thud!

Sana: ...Whoa! I bumped into someone...

Momiji: ...Watch where you walk.

Sana: I-I'm sorry! ...Ah! I dropped it...

Azuma: ...Pardon us, we're in a hurry.

Sana: Wha... Azuma-san, wait..! Let me pick it up first..!

Tap tap tap...

Momiji: ...Why were they in such a hurry? ...Ah...

Momiji: ...Aoi's pipe... I must've dropped it when I bumped into them. At least the wrappings didn't get dirty.

Momiji: ...I need to hurry, too. I just hope Aoi's somewhere around the plaza...

Forest Plaza

Aoi: ....... ...I have to battle yokai again... Why now, when I'm a soldier..?

Aoi: Why now that I've left that household...

Momiji: ...Aoi. I've been looking for you.

Aoi: ...Momiji... What brings you here? Aren't the matches being held in the city..?

Momiji: Commander Hanabusa told me to come get you. It's almost time for your match.

Aoi: ...Ah, I see. I'll go back now.

Momiji: Please do. Also, I was told to give this back to you.

Aoi: .....! Come to think of it, I didn't remember where I'd left it...

Aoi: ...Thank you. I might need this in the tournament.

Momiji: ...Can that thing be used as a weapon? From what I heard, it was just a bamboo pipe.

Aoi: ...Do I have to tell you?

Momiji: No, but I came all the way here to find you and give that back. Don't you think you owe me an explanation?

Aoi: ....... You really are a cocky newbie...

Aoi: ....... There's holy water inside the pipe. My family has owned a Shinto shrine for generations.

Momiji: A shrine..? I guess Uta did mention something about you deciding to become a soldier on your own.

Aoi: ...He should really stop running his mouth so much... But I suppose it doesn't matter.

Aoi: ...That's right. I became a soldier of my own volition. And despite that, they sent me here, because I came from a priest family.

Aoi: ...Tsk. I made it so far... And now I'm stuck in this post.

Momiji: That doesn't mean you should act irresponsible. You might be a katanashu now, but you'll be transferred back to the capital eventually, right?

Aoi: If I'd come from a military family like Madoka, there might've been a chance that I could go back.

Aoi: Why do I have to stay here, when people around me are lazy and uninterested..?

Momiji: I see... So that's why you hate being a katanashu.

Momiji: And the tournament...

Aoi: I'm sick and tired of going along with the yokai's foolish games... As if I didn't get hurt enough back home.

Momiji: ...Back home? When Commander Hanabusa said you had previous combat experience, did he mean..

Aoi: ...You're sharp. That's right. I helped my family exterminate yokai. That was a part of the business we ran.

Aaaaaaagh...

Momiji: ...... I can hear cheering from the city...

Aoi: ...Sorry. I've wasted your time talking about this. Let's go back.

Momiji: Yeah.

Aoi: ....... Aren't you going to ask me why I chose to become a soldier instead of taking over the family business?

Momiji: Does it have anything to do with our duties?

Aoi: ....... Haha. No, it doesn't.

Aoi: You may be cocky, but I like how clear cut your way of thinking is. I guess you're a real army nut.

Aoi: You're a soldier who only cares about his mission and fights with dignity.

Momiji: There's a duty I must fulfill in the army. I just don't have time to care about anything else.

Aoi: A duty... Is it something you chose?

Aoi: What will you be left with, if you lose that sword?

Momiji: .......

To be continued...

[that-otome-potato]

This was supposed to be a drabble... I edited it a couple times in the hopes of making it shorter, but I think I made it longer.

*shrugs*

I hope you enjoy my Jinpachi fic.  Contains some smut.

@masamunesmistress and @calicocrest

Also, this is for all of the Jinpachi fans out there.  I'm looking at you, @saizoswifey.  Also, a little birdie told me that @otomelin might appreciate this as well?

Cut to save your dash!

“Jin…pa…chi…”

Every syllable of his name that came from her luscious lips was met with a thrust of his hips, pressing her harder and harder against the wall behind her. Just hearing them from her made it harder and harder to maintain his well-practiced composure.

~*~

~Rainy day - late spring~

Kyoto. The capitol of Japan and one of the best places for a noble Lord to find a noble wife to ensure the continuation of his line.

Jinpachi had been at Lord Nobuyuki's side since they were children.  This offered him the ability to predict what his master wanted and when.  So, by the time they had arrived, accompanied by Lord Yukimura, Jinpachi had already collected a list of potential suitors for Lord Nobuyuki. As his Lord's shadow, it was his duty and his privilege.

Once inside the city, they made their way at a hurried pace towards where Lord Yukimura had mentioned was a restaurant of high praise. The first thing he noticed as he ducked his head to enter behind his Lords, was a distractingly sweet smell that entered his nose and warmed him from the inside out. Never had he encountered something so enticing that it called to all of his senses.

The boy that greeted them on entering, left them after seating his master and Lord Yukimura, shouting into the kitchen next to them to let his sister know there were customers.

“I’ll be with you in a moment!” came a voice like the tinkling of the bells wielded by shrine maidens. When she came out of the kitchen while wiping her hands on her apron, it took quite a bit of self-control to resist releasing a small, sharp intake of breath. She wasn’t a stunning beauty like some of the princesses that Nobuyuki was scheduled to meet, but her natural allure called to him like no other ever had.

He closed his eyes and took on a passive meine, focusing all of his senses on anything but her.  She was a distraction that he could ill afford while watching over his master.

~*~

~Two weeks later~

Jinpachi thought back to when he had found out her name as he watched her bustle around the crowded restaurant.

"Asayumi.  Ono Asayumi." The feeling of saying her name then, and thinking about it now, caused a tingling sensation down his back as if his body was going numb from a paralytic.

This was going to be a problem.

~*~

It wasn't anything in particular that caused it, made him realize something that was there all along.

He was attracted to Asayumi.

He'd felt desire before - the heat blooming in his stomach, the arousal stiffening his manhood, the base instinct to mate deeply engrained in the human body.  It was a requirement in their training as ninja.  Sleeping with someone was a good way to get information without his partner even realizing that they had even said anything.

But this time was different. Everything about her form drew him, aroused him, and without it even being a requirement of his missions.

The sway of her hips as he followed her and Lords Nobuyuki and Yukimura on a city walk, the way the sun shone off her plush, pink lips and caused her to always look flushed. The peek of an ankle when she was comfortable and playful with the three men and decided to dance around without a care in the world.

The way her small, soft, warm hand fit perfectly in his large, calloused, cold hand as he helped her down a set of stairs or over a puddle after a storm.

The warmth of her smile that greeted him every time he ran into her in town or while they spoke during the Lords' meals.

He knew that, when the time came and they had to leave Asayumi in Kyoto - and it would - everything about her from the top of her head to the bottom of her feet, would be engrained in his memory until the end of his days.

~*~

Their time in Kyoto was coming to an end without much success in finding a Sanada bride for Lord Nobuyuki.

Jinpachi knew what was going to happen.  Had noticed weeks ago how Lord Nobuyuki had been looking at Asayumi. And he was right.  The time for them to be recalled to Ueda was coming towards them on swift feet, so Lord Nobuyuki had to make a choice, and he did.

Lord Nobuyuki wanted Asayumi.

Though Jinpachi made sure nothing on the outside changed, every muscle in his body tensed and his heart pounded. That must be why she flushed noticeably  whenever they entered the restaurant as of late. Lord Nobuyuki was a man to be desired by females far and wide - honorable, calm, collected, a doting older brother, and future head of the Sanada family.  It was no wonder, now that he'd figured it out.  He could feel his body cooling after weeks of gaining a warmth he had never experienced before, returning to it's previous state, as it should be. 

"I thank you, milord, for your generous offer, but I must decline."

This surprised all three of them.  To turn down a Samurai's offer of marriage was unheard of.

"I see.  Might I ask why?"  Nobuyuki asked, his smile frozen there to hide any confusion or upset at her refusal.

"My heart belongs to another and it wouldn't be fair to myself to become a bride to another before I could tell him and find out how he feels about me."

Jinpachi frowned to himself.  Since coming here those months ago, he had not seen her with any other male, either while they were there during meals or when Nobuyuki had asked he protect her while they were otherwise occupied.

"Who is the lucky man who has caught such a beautiful heart before I could?"

Asayumi automatically became a flurry of motion, rushing back into the kitchen to cook the food the ordered every day.

After she returned with their food and his Lords tucked in, Jinpachi followed her back into the kitchen as if pulled by a string that was held in her hand. When he came to a stop at her back, she turned around to face him, unafraid of how he towered over her.

"Who?" Only one word left his lips, low in volume and deep as the ocean, yet he got the impression that she understood what he was asking.  Her eyes widened a split second before she turned back around to put together Lord Nobuyuki's favorite dessert. Several minutes passed without her answering, so he pressed her again. "Please?"

Asayumi jumped.  He didn't use that word often, but if it meant that he'd get her to answer, he would do it.  He wanted to find this male who had stolen her from him...no, his master. He needed to speak to said male to encourage him to convince her she would be a good match for Lord Nobuyuki.  Asayumi released a breath as a sigh and looked over her shoulder at him.

"Why do you care so much, Jinpachi? Is it because of Lord Nobuyuki? Or something else?"

Why did he care?  Why did the idea of her being with another male bother him, even if that other was Lord Nobuyuki himself? He gave her a single nod to both of her questions.

Jinpachi watched her small hands fist on either side of the dessert bowl against the countertop, her knuckles turning white, but he waited. He knew she would tell him when she was ready, but he wanted to know. Asayumi must have seen something in his gaze because she faced him once more and nearly bent her head all the way back to look up at him while being so close they could nearly feel each other's heat through their robes.

"You."

"Yu? Who is Yu?"

Asayumi simply raised an eyebrow before she continued.  "Not Yu.  You, as in I have fallen in love with you, Jinpachi.  I know what you do, why you do it, and some of what goes behind the scenes, but the one my heart belongs to if he chooses to take it is the man standing before me."

"Me?" It often took a lot to change his passive, expressionless nature, to one of surprise.  But this one did and he felt like he would be forever changed.

"You. You may be silent and stoic, but you are also kind, caring, watchful, passionate about what you do. You are loyal and protective and would do anything for your Lord. I admire that about you, love that about you. This is all on top of the fact that I find you more attractive than I have any other man I've ever met."

Her rush of words pulled him in to crowd her small frame against the counter and, when she tried to turn away in embarrassment, he gripped her shoulders to turn her back, taking her chin in one hand to tilt her face up towards his. "We are of one mind then. For I have found myself having similar thoughts of you in the time we've spent together."

"You think I'm an attractive man?"

Jinpachi chuckled when she smiled after murmuring her joking words. Then he leaned in, bringing her lips to his as he did.  The fission that passed through him when their lips touched was uncharted territory.  He wanted to deepen the kiss, as he could tell she did as well, but he pulled away when he distantly heard hurried footsteps approaching the establishment.

"A moment." In the space of the blink of an eye, he was gone.

~*~

They had left in the night without so much as a word.

War was on the horizon and he couldn't bring her into the fighting but felt guilt at how he had left her there in the kitchen, pink from their shared kiss, feeling the sensation of her lips on his still even days later.

~*~

Months passed before they could return to Kyoto to resume the search. Never once had he been so impatient to return to a place that wasn't Ueda.  But it wasn't the place, it was the person there.

When the three of them entered her family's restaurant, the sound of broken clay plates greeted them.  All three looked over to her and the brothers smiled at her, asking her if she was ok.

All Jinpachi saw was her, all she saw was him.  Asayumi had been on his mind every day that they had been away at war to protect the Sanada land. Did she think of him?  Had she missed him as much as he had missed her?

He smiled inside when she pushed past Lords Nobuyuki and Yukimura, never taking her eyes off of him. The moment she reached up to cup the side of his face, fear and longing in her beautiful eyes, he whisked them both up to her room in the blink of an eye and, the moment the shogi doors were closed, devoured her lips as he had wanted to do since he'd left her in the kitchen.

In no time, the shoulders of her kimono were around her elbows revealing breasts that were just enough to fill one hand, her nipple rosy and pinchable. Meanwhile, his other hand circled her waist and lifted her easily up to wrap her legs around his hips as he pressed her back against the wall next to her bedroom door. He moved his lips from hers, down her jawline, along the slender column of her neck and over her collarbone to leave cherry blossom shaped petals on the tops of her breasts. Her soft panting was loud in the quiet room as she had moved her hands from where they had been on his shoulders to the waist of his hakama and untying it.

The tugging of her hands on his clothing gave him pause and he pulled away to look into her eyes.  "Are you sure? No going back."

She nodded with a smile, heat and passion in her eyes, then continued on to her goal. She gasped when she realized he didn't wear any undergarments and he wanted to smile, but moaned faintly instead when she wrapped her hand around his stiff flesh to draw it out and towards her heat as she stroked him.

Jinpachi trailed the hand that was grasping her breast and pinching her nipple, down to the apex of her thighs where he found her silken folds wet with her desire.

"Jinpachi, please..." Asayumi whimpered when he thrust two fingers into her heat to keep her from feeling any pain, scissoring his fingers to stretch her taut flesh.

The moment he couldn't take her gripping his long tapered fingers any longer, he withdrew them, licked them clean of her arousal, and lined himself up to thrust into her giving heat.

Asayumi cried out and he could see pain flash past her gaze over the haze of arousal at his sudden invasion. Jinpachi automatically stopped, buried all the way to the hilt, and waited for her to grow accustomed to him.  A moment later, he saw the pain leave and her arousal flourish.  With a nod, he picked up a steady, satisfying pace.

She chanted his name like a whispered prayer, her arms moving to wrap around his neck. Every time he entered her body, his name was cut into syllables with every thrust, but no sound did he make past panted breaths as his control began to slip and he moved faster, feeling her gripping him tight with her inner walls, feeling his orgasm rushing towards him as well.

Jinpachi could feel the moment she released and covered her lips with his to cover her scream, thrusting his tongue into her mouth so as to keep the others from hearing their activity downstairs because he knew she would get embarrassed over what had just occurred between them. With a final thrust of his hips, he pulled out as he came, releasing over the front of her kimono.

Slowly, he set her down on her feet and pulled a handkerchief from his sleeve. He dipped it in cool water in a basin near by that she used for her ablutions, wrung it out, then ran it up the insides of her thighs to clean up the mess he left behind. Once that was finished, he used another scrap of cloth to clean the front of her kimono as she helped him back into his hakama.

"I'm sorry." He murmured as he tugged her kimono back into place and combed his fingers through her hair to make her more presentable.

"I'm not." Was her reply as she took his hand into hers after tying his hakama, squeezing the appendage tight and holding it to her cheek despite the dirtied cloth there.  The smile she gave him through her eyelashes was one that would be burned into his memory for all time and he felt his heart pound, not from exertion, but from feeling it beat hard for her.

                                                     |~*~| Next                       

[ergomaria]

The Past is Gone (but something might be found) Preview Pt. III

Somehow, the text from the original post was deleted when I tried to edit the tags to make this easier to sort. I’ve restored it. Once again, I’m just posting this as a reminder that I’m alive and still trying to write!

PLOT: Vann, Meetra, and Carth touch the wrong thing at the wrong shrine and are turned into themselves at 18. Alek finds himself paying his penance to the Force when he has to simultaneously watch over the trio while trying to figure out how to restore them to their proper ages.

Now saddled with three teenagers and very few clues, Alek nodded in acquiescence as he trudged back towards the Hawk. Luckily, they were all fairly well behaved during the walk. Once they reached the ship the real fun began.

“So, do any of you know the codes to get back on the ship?”

There was a long bout of uncomfortable silence during which it became clear that no adult knowledge about the freighter had stuck with the teens. The worst part was that Alek did know the codes but couldn’t admit that fact without seeming suspicious. The next best option was to rewire the door panel and go from there.

“Alright, here’s a better question. Do any of you know how to rewire a hatch?”

Predictably, it was Deran who raised his hand. “Obviously I can, at least if I have the correct tools. Unfortunately, I don’t have my normal gear…”

The amount of places that Vann had broken into or out of during his search for the Star Forge still grated on Alek’s nerves. He knew for a fact there was a multitool tucked somewhere in that worn black jacket, but it was yet another fact he couldn’t openly share. “This might sound absurd, but everyone check your pockets. If your clothing originally belonged to spacers, and it looks like it did, the original owners may have left something useful behind.”

It was a risky gamble since there was always a chance that one of them had identifying documents on their person. But Alek was hoping they’d left those behind to perform a mission as covert as hiding a highly dangerous Sith holocron. Onasi’s civilian clothing was the best indicator that this might be the case. For once the Force was on his side and the search produced nothing but various odds and ends. An extra reload for the blasters, a few credits, a ration bar, a medpac, and finally a multitool that Vann had definitely purchased illegally.

Deran was predictably pleased to find the item and immediately set to work rewiring the door to his own ship. Meanwhile, Alek quietly filed that irony away for later. When the exit ramp slid open with a smooth hiss, Onasi practically cracked a tooth in his desperate attempt to not look impressed.

The inside of the Hawk was in partial disarray, though it was hard to tell if this was from whatever had transpired to turn three adults into teenagers or the mere fact that it was Vann’s ship and thus naturally full of clutter. Either way, the mess made it easier for Alek to order the teens to remain in the main hold where it was neater and theoretically ‘safer’ while he ‘checked’ the rest of the freighter. As soon as he was sure they would stay put, he moved into the cockpit to look for further clues.

Despite his tendency towards random piles of mechanical parts, Vann was absolutely fastidious when it came to researching locations and making notes about what he discovered. Before the original trip to Dromund Kaas he’d compiled an entire datapad full of files on the history of Sith purebloods, their laws, and their customs. While Nirauan had significantly less information recorded, there was still a pad with multiple paragraphs discussing the planet’s connection to both the Rakata Infinite Empire and the Force itself. It seemed that the crew was aiming to land near a series of suspected Rakata ruins that had a notable presence.

Datapad in hand, Alek peeked into the main hold to inform his charges of his next step. “Just so you’re aware, I think I found a series notes mentioning that this planet has a strange connection to the Force. I don’t know if it has anything to do with your current situation, but we can’t rule it out. I have a friend who might be able to untangle the few clues we currently have, so I’m going to comm her using the ship’s unit. Just wait here until I’m done.”

“Is she a Jedi?” Meetra was sprawled across two seats looking dangerously bored.

“She was at one time, but she’s since left the Order. However, she’s very knowledge about certain subjects and I feel that her input will be extremely helpful.” One of the subjects she had a great deal of experience with was being a Force prodigy and another was ancient artifacts from the Infinite Empire, currently making her the galaxy’s only authority on the situation. When there were no further questions, Alek hurried away to contact Rakata Base in the hope of begging Bastila for assistance.

“Vann?” The young woman’s face immediately darkened when she saw who was on the other end of the call. “Why are you there and where is Vann?”

“I’m here because Meetra contacted me when there was a complication with their current mission,” Alek hissed as quietly as possible. Noting the concern that immediately overtook Bastila’s face he assured her, “Everyone is healthy. I hesitate to say ‘fine’ because, well… Somehow, through a combination of some Rakta ruins and a Sith holocron, all three members of this crew are currently teenagers with no memories of their adult selves. I’d estimate them between seventeen and nineteen, if I had to guess.”

The incredulous glare was absolutely scathing. “You’ve picked a poor time to develop a sense of humor.”

“Why in Sith hells would I joke about this? I currently have three teenagers in the hold of this damn ship who are convinced that I’m a Jedi Sentinel named Naver who happened to sense a disturbance in the Force. Since it’s blatantly clear that my creativity it lacking, you can be sure that I couldn’t make this bantha fodder up if I tried!”

“Dustil, can you please come here? Our former ‘master’ is on the comm and he believes that he’s being hilarious. Perhaps you can convince him to tell me what’s really going on.”

“What the hells is going on now, Malak?” The younger Onai looked supremely irritated, which actually mirrored how Alek was currently feeling.

“That’s not my name.”

Appearing unbothered by the correction, Dustil sneered for a moment before snapping, “What kinrath nest did Vann get my dad into this time?”

“Oh, did he not tell you? Supposedly through the will of the Force, Vann, Meetra, and your father are now teenagers with no memory of their adult lives.” Bastila looked equally unamused. “Funny, yes?”

“Hi-kriffing-larious.”

Alek was about two second from hanging up and hoping that Rand would be more helpful, if only to get Meetra back into her proper body, when a slender figure crept into the room just within view of the comm unit.

“Um, Knight Naver, I apologize for bothering you but…”

There was a loud pop of static from the other end of the comm, which turned out to be Bastila covering the microphone with her hand so that she could curse for about thirty seconds straight.

“Yes, Deran? I was actually just telling me friend Bastila a bit about you and the others in the hope that she’d be willing to assist us in figuring out what happened. Perhaps you’d like to speak with her about your current situation? It could be useful.”

It was hard to tell who was more bewildered by the entire scenario. Luckily, Deran’s natural curiosity quickly took hold and he slipped over to the console and situated himself before the camera. “Hello, Bastila was it? What did you want to ask me?”

“Oh stars…” The young woman was doing a poor job of disguising her surprise, though she still managed to stutter, “I apologize for my lack of manners. You just… remind me of someone I know. No matter. Actually, Deran, I was just wondering how, ah, how old you are.”

“You really aren’t a Jedi, are you? Sorry, that was rude. It’s just… everyone in the Order always seems to know everything about me. But uh, I turned eighteen a few months ago.”

“Two years before Knighthood…”

“Bastila, be careful. You don’t want to scare the boy!” While it was technically true that Deran became the youngest Knight in the order at age twenty, that wasn’t information his eighteen-year old self knew. It wasn’t until nineteen that his trials actually began.

Plastering on a false smile, the young woman quickly stammered, “That’s just a guess on my part. Though, of course, I could be wrong. It’s not like I can see the future and you’re so very… young.”

Unfortunately, just the mention of Knighthood had made Deran’s back go stiff, his jaw ticking in the corner even as his expression remained stoic and proper. “Well, that’s for the Council to decide. They know best.” Even at this age he sounded thoroughly unconvinced. “What else do you want to ask me?”

“That’s… that’s it.” Turning to Alek, Bastila stated, “I believe you and I’ll do whatever I can to help. Just tell me what you need.”

“I’ll send you all of the data I have in a minute. Let me just find out what brought Deran in here in the first place.”

“I came in to let you know that Carth and Meetra left the ship. They said that they got tired of waiting for you and decided to explore on their own.” The teen winced slightly. “Also, they may have been flirting? I’m not always great at telling that type of stuff, but it’s possible they just went to go and… you know.”

The snort of hysterics from Dustil was all the confirmation that Alek needed to know that this entire situation was his punishment from the Force. Part of him considered letting Meetra and Onasi do whatever they wanted. Someone else could deal with the fallout. But he also needed to get Deran out of the room to prevent him from snooping. “I’m concerned that they’re going to get themselves into trouble. There are some very powerful ruins on this planet and I’d hate for them to make the current situation even more complicated. Can I trust you to find them and bring them back safely?”

It was an underhanded ploy. Alek was fully aware that Deran’s facade of teenage bravado combined with his crippling fear of failure would make him agree to almost any task without question. But the former Sith didn’t have time to chase two teenagers down, all while trying to keep a third from learning that he was currently speaking with his own kriffing Padawan.

As expected, Deran immediately nodded. “Of course. I’ll bring them back as quickly as possible.”

It wasn’t until the teen’s footfalls disappeared off the ship that Alek sat down with a sigh, his head pounding from the sheer mental acrobatics required to keep this situation moving forward. As he uploaded the information from Vann’s datapad he grumbled, “For Force sake, Dustil. I thought your father would be the responsible one!”

The damned kid was still laughing. “Just checking, but is Meetra the teenager as pretty as Meetra the adult? Big blue eyes and wavy blonde hair?”

Attempting to be objective about the attractiveness of someone who was like a sister to him, Alek shrugged. “I suppose? She was more petite at this age, almost willowy. I honestly think she looks better with some muscle. Less delicate.”

“I don’t care either way, it’s just… My dad kinda has a type. Or, at least he did at that point in his life. My mom was petite with wavy, honey-brown hair. They met when he was twenty.”

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Nope, you can look up the files for Morgana Onasi if you want. I um, I have. Just to see her, you know? It helps me to remember her face…” Shaking away his melancholy, Dustil cleared his throat. “Ah, anyway, at eighteen my Dad was really responsible when it came to official things. Training and studying? He was incredibly dedicated. But when he had time to himself he kind of… let loose. Nothing really bad, just a lot of drinking and fooling around with his fellow cadets. Put a bunch of bored, horny teenagers in the same dorm and stuff happens.”

Alek had lived in the Jedi dormitories during puberty and was well aware of what could happen. He winced.

“The good news is that my dad definitely liked men at that age as well… Please don’t ask how I know this. It was a really awkward conversation that only happened because I got mad at him and… ugh. But the good news is that he might rediscover how amazing Vann is. He is really great at this age, right?”

“He’s actually an anxious mess who likes to pretend he’s confident, which just comes off as arrogance. It doesn’t help that he’s actually good at whatever he does. Honestly, I think your father currently wants to throttle him.”

“Ouch. Well, maybe they’ll lose all memory of this once they get restored to their actual ages!”

“We can only hope the Force is that kind.” Rubbing his forehead, Alek asked, “Bastila, have you looked over those files I sent?”

“I’m reading them now and I’ll run them through the Rakata archives when I’m done. But you should be aware that, while we have a significant amount of information on the Infinite Empire, we don’t have much else. Vann tries to update what he can, but it’s still nothing compared to what the Jedi possess.”

“Do your best, it’s still more than I have access to on this ship.”

“I do have an idea, but you’re not going to like it one bit.” Upon noting Alek’s hopeful expression, Bastila sighed...

[alexihollis]

Candles and Boring Games

Life is a game with many rules, but, unlike the games Uncle taught on his rare breaks from being a General, no one told you the rules. No one wrote them down or sounded them out in easily memorized ways. No, life more closely resembled the games Azula liked to play. The ones that didn’t look like games until Zuko fell or got burned and Azula told Mother:

“It was just a game!”

So Zuko hated games. All games (except maybe Pai Sho, but only with Uncle, because that was when he told his best battle stories). Despite this overall dislike, he could easily rank his animosity towards individual ones: for example, he hated games with Father the most, but games with Father that included Fire Lord Azulon were the absolute worst.

Needless to say, as Zuko knelt in greeting to Fire Lord Azulon in the his Throne Room, he wished desperately that he wasn’t. He didn’t want to be inside the rooms of the palace at all, but back in the ancestor’s garden with mother, lighting candles for Lu Ten at his shiny new shrine, like they were supposed to be doing, if Father cared at all about Lu Ten’s soul finding his way home.

With greetings over, Father began speaking: first asking probing questions about Fire Lord Azulon’s health prompting a raised eyebrow from the Fire Lord that made Zuko’s skin itch, then Father turned his attention to Zuko and Azula, asking questions about Fire Nation customs and history that Azula dutifully answered. As the questions droned on, Zuko’s focus kept drifting back to the unlit shrine.

Mother promised that Lu Ten’s soul knew the way home, having made the trip from the Earth Kingdom to the Fire Nation many times in life, but Zuko remained skeptical. Lu Ten never sailed himself and Zuko knew the pitch black of the ocean at night from the trips to and from Ember Island. What if Lu Ten ended up over the ocean at night and mistook the stars for firelight? Would his soul become stuck in the inky cosmos? How could Agni find him there, guide him home?

“Just as young Zuko’s attention seems to have strayed,” a tired voice came, not from next to Zuko, but in front. Zuko felt as if all the blood he possessed had evaporated at once, leaving him a husk as Fire Lord Azulon’s words processed, “Mine has as well. Say what it is you actually desire, so that I may go light a candle for my grandson. In case you have forgotten the tragic loss our family has recently suffered.”

The fire that burned in front of the Fire Lord’s throne seemed to grow, just slightly, making the ashy taste in the air hang even heavier and the view to the Fire Lord himself a haze of burning and gray and heat. Next to him, Zuko could almost feel as Father quickly rearranged the plan in his head, looking for his next attack.

Zuko hated games.

“I actually wished to discuss the loss of our beloved Lu Ten, Father,” Father began, voice syrupy in the way that sent Zuko wanting to hide under his bed. “Iroh no longer has an heir and, at his age, there is no way for him to procure one – not one that the people would accept, at least. And where is he now? Not at Ba Sing Se, not here, but gallivanting around the globe, abandoning our family’s sacred mission!”

Fire Lord Azulon narrowed his eyes at Father, “What are you trying to say, Ozai?”

Zuko wished he had knelt next to Mother. Being in the middle, next to Father, next to Azula, attracted the Fire Lord’s gaze to him as the tension grew in the room. Zuko knew enough about the rules that people like Zuko did not want attention on the best of days, let alone in the presence of a powerful and angry man.

“Make me your heir, Father,” Ozai finally laid down his cards. “I have two living children to uphold your legacy.”

The room went silent. The flames grew and Zuko resisted the urge to cough; Azula, the perfect firebending prodigy, barely noticed the smoke.

“You dare suggest that I betray Iroh?” Fire Lord Azulon did not shout. “My first born? After the demise of his only beloved son?” The old man leaned back in his throne shaking his head, “You have made an irrevocable error here, today, Ozai. What man of honor, what brother, what Uncle, would use this tragedy, a death towards furthering our family’s sacred mission as you call it, for his own political,” He practically spat the word, “gain. No, no, Iroh has suffered enough, but you, my son, have been far too coddled.”

Zuko felt Father’s tension, but his stomach truly dropped when he saw Azula’s own worry, clear as day on her perfect actress face.

“You need to be taught a lesson,” Fire Lord Azulon decided. “You must, too, suffer the pain of losing your first born.”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23796211

[jakiphyr]

Jak (re)plays Gaiden  [Part 03]

→ Previous installment: Yo, Alm!  Listen to this guy! (3x)

That rescue sure went silky smooth.  ]/steals joke from @azebraslife ]

—

[Game]

I’m heading on inside the Thief’s Shrine now to beat up some fruity exp bandits and recruit this holy plot importantz lady.

If Tobin goes archer in this playthrough, then I’m going to be happy because he’s going to need that SKL to flippin’ hit stuffs.

Awesome!  Kliff’s shaping up to be surprisingly—

What the froggy fuck?  Again?  Twice in a row?

Is this game trying to bless me or make my life harder down the road...?

Alm gets Role Model points for continuing to be an aspiration for the sweet kiddo.

I’m not quite sure how to train/deal with Kliff as a unit yet, but I’ll level him decently for now.  At least he can promote at this point.

Alm and Luckas both get luck.

The last squeezed in level ups from the first dungeon encounter.

Only two whole lines and the author gave her such a huge, important role in the story, god damn.  I find that vastly impressive.  I sincerely wish we got more of her angle in Shadows of Valentia in one manner or another.

Just for funsies, I decide to go up to the Mila Statue and see what the game’s RNG first class picks suggested.  I got: Mercenary Kliff, Cavalier Tobin, and Soldier Gray.  

Now it’s hellbent on Merc Kliff, Archer Tobin, and Mage Gray after 5 more times of talking to the statue-thing.

Anyway, I stop goofing around since I didn’t confirm any classes for them — least not juuuust yet.  I will only proceed after I dig out what the novel has them promoted into...

—

[Novel]

Chapter 1 - Liberation Army Part 1-3: Mysterious Girl Silque

[ Warnings for mild blood. ]

Clair’s capture and Mathilda’s disappearance following it are still unknown to Lukas, that it may be too much to bear once learned.  Escaping from Mycen’s eyes, they set to march from Ram without waiting for dawn, not getting any sleep.  They stop to rest north of the woods because Lukas’ legs were sore and the three villagers were starting to lag behind, Alm was able to keep up the pace without delay.  Straight north is the coastal cave and they felt an evil aura from it.  Alm explains the burglary problem, which was why he accused Lukas of being one, since their hideout was so close by.  Within moments, shadows dart out from the bushes and surround them.  The thieves put up a fight until screams were heard, two bandits were killed the remaining four grew cowardly and ran away in the direction of the cave.

Lukas, Alm, Gray, and Tobin take off after them.  Kliff watches then talks to himself in a quiet yet heavy voice.  “I know Alm’s tragedy, no one can change his destiny.  It will be a huge tragedy that will impact the world.”

Kliff heard stones falling from inside the cave and he went in the rift, the cold, damp air was felt in the darkness and he could not see, Suddenly there’s a flame in close proximity from a torch held by a hand. The first thing he saw was a girl’s face being illuminated, and there’s a bandit holding her hostage with an arm around her neck, threatening to kill the priestess if he took another step. When Kliff did hesitantly move a little, the bandit makes a display by pressing the dagger’s edge to the girl’s throat that he was serious about the death threat.  Immediately, Kliff drives his sword into the bandit’s thick arm, forcing him to let go of the poor priestess who then hid in the dark and ran away.  The torch’s flame blew out as the burglar and Kliff got engaged in a fight.  The thief slashed his dagger into Kliff’s stomach giving him a deep cut and at the same time Kliff manages to knock the enemy down, disarming him.  Ignoring the pain and the bleeding, Kliff went over quickly to slam the hilt of his blade against the back of the bandit’s head to dispose of him, then Kliff collapses on the ground.

The girl comes back out, rushing over to Kliff’s side.  She says her name in a prayer in the service of Mila and to get Mila’s protection upon the injured villager to heal him.  A ball of light surround Kliff and he was surprised to see no scar remaining on his belly after Silque was done with her white magic. The others show up after defeating the bandits from where they were and went to thank Silque for her assistance.  Tobin says helping a priestess is the highest honor.  She volunteers to go with them as a Sister of Mila which was met with refusal from Lukas who warns her that liberating Zofia is their mission, that if she doesn’t want to lose her life in the conflict, it’s best to stay out of it.  He also brings up that she may also be an enemy. Gray grabs at Lukas, hoisting him off the ground with his strength, yelling at him they should bring her along because she helped heal Kliff and she would be a valuable vitality to the team.  

Silque politely interrupts, thanking them for their thoughts and concerns, she explains that she got there due to the Mila Shrine deep within the cave and she was visiting to do her duties as a priestess.

She guides them further inside to an area dimly lit by sunlight through the small peephole through the rocky side.  The morning sun’s light sweeps in softly like snow, illuminating a Mila statue and two springs by the base.  Silque goes over to the fountain to turn the hand knobs and calls Gray up to be first.

Gray decides on the battle path of a knight and cleanses his hands in the fountain water as per the ritual.  Silque starts the rite with a chant - in power and will, may Gray rise as a knight in the blessings of Mila and Duma.

(Yes, Duma. 「ミラとドーマ」is in there in the text.)

Threads of light begin to wrap around Gray like a yarn ball until it looks like a full cocoon.  There are faint screams and the underside of the light cocoon gets stained with blood. One of Gray’s muscle tendons were cut as a mid-process side effect of taking in the blessings (it gets fully healed afterward).  Silque summons a horse.  Gray comes off the stage with a more beefed up body fitting of a knight’s stature. 

(Don’t ask me what the bloody hell happened with Gray.  I thought he was getting turned into a centaur while reading it...)

Tobin and Kliff both get up on the stage after Gray, going into the rituals one after another.  Tobin decides on the bow style, blessing him the way of an archer.  There’s a tormented feeling going high-speed in his dominant arm’s muscles that only last some moments.  Kliff wishes for magical ability and prowess, making him a mage.  Cliff gets a sharp headache that was difficult to bear with until it was over.  They step away from the stage to get a feel for their newly adjusted bodies and group hug each other and celebrate in joy.

Lukas puts his hands together to pledge in silence, sending a prayer where he swears to free Zofia.  Silque cleanses her hands for the fourth time and looks over to Alm, asking him if he will also volunteer for the promotion.  Alm does not answer as he and the statue stone are having a staring contest, and he feels it deep within his gut that it is not that time yet.  He wasn’t fascinated by the pain of the promotions, and he doesn’t fault his friends for their desperation [on wanting to gain power and will]. Alm believes that initiation came from either the Mila’s servant or the Goddess herself, so he listens to it and tells Silque this.  

The morning sunlight gets blocked from the outside from falling rain.  Silque has some symbolism monologue about rain equating either the heaven’s joyful tears or the rain of sadness over Alm’s future and believes it may be the latter. She reminisces on the reason she swore herself as a Sister of Mila - it is to protect Zofia and the Mother.  She then tells him, “Sir Alm is a special person, I vow to serve him for life.”

Kliff watches Silque’s expression with unease, he casts his gaze downwards and chews on his fingers.  In the cultural custom of Ram Village, it is a behavioural sign of jealousy and troubled love.

—

[Game]

I’m going to cheer on for Kliff becoming a strong boy.  He hurt a damn man.

Okay!  So I’ll go promote Kliff into Mage, Tobin into Archer, and Gray into...

. . .

?fuck the What.|What the fuck?

But.

Wait...

This knight... 

Freshly Buff Binch On Mila Steroids gets a horse.

Stay tuned on: How long will I use him as a unit for when Mathilda and Zeke exist?

The being in pain from getting promoted thing makes some sort of sense when you factor in the gameplay stat gains, so I guess that’s what’s going on there.

Doesn’t look like stat booster springs were used, so it’s freedom of my choosing.  I won’t use them yet until I pick up Clair and do some grinding.

For their promo gains:

Mage Kliff gets +1 SKL, +2 SPD, and +6 HP.

Archer Tobin gets +1 STR and +1 HP.

Knight Gray gets +1 SPD.

Posting these stats for reference to compare for when I go grind.

—

＊Note: Chapter 2 covers Celica’s departure, so I’ll be skipping it to Chapter 3 where it starts with Clair’s rescue.  I’ll get back to Chapter 2 for Act 2.

 → Next installment: Rescue Clair  [coming soon]

[fuzzybearbarian]

Nioh Dual Sword Build - Justice Ministry Armor Set Based

This Justice Ministry set build is the build I finished the final mission in NG+ with (that mission is level 310 and I was only 165 when I did it, and did it easily). It is by far the most fun build I've played, and I've respec'd dozens of times to try different builds with various other armor sets. This is my favorite because it: - is light and fast. You have so much Ki you can run and attack and defend for what feels like forever - capitalizes on the high damage skillset of dual swords to deal massive OP damage - focuses on destroying enemy ki, making them easy to kill fast and hindering their ability to get their ki back - hardly use elixirs as you keep getting your health back with every skill hit you make - powers up your Living Weapon super fast, so can be customized into a living weapon build easily if you want - makes farming a cinch, whether it is bosses or revenants - oh, and did I mention tons of ki? If you forget to ki pulse it really won't matter anymore.

I also think this is the start of a potential great PVP build, but we'll see on that when it happens.

**THE SETUP** This is a HEART/MAGIC/SPIRIT build.

Body 15 Heart 99 Stamina 11 Strength 6 Skill 22 Dexterity 6 Magic 38 Spirit 23 (though minimum is 21 to get the Guardian Spirit of Kara-jishi, I put in 2 extra points so I can play with all Guardian Spirits except the final one which I don't like and which costs the most of 25).

**DUAL SWORD: Tsuruga Masamune & Hocho Toshiro (Justice Ministry Set Piece)** Damage Bonus (Less Armor) A+ Close combat attack Ki reduction Strong attack ki damage Skill life drain Earth (for ki damage) Change to attack (Heart) A+

Note: If you can get a great 7 attribute roll on a dual sword, I recommend putting the set piece dual sword as your secondary instead. I haven't been so lucky, so I'm still using it as my first as I've been rolling/forging/farming to get the perfect 7 attribute Earth sword, but haven't been lucky enough to get one yet that will suit the reforging/soul matching I want to do. If I did get the 7 roll, I would want/reforge the 7th slot with Final Blow Damage.

**SECONDARY WEAPON:** Run whatever you want. I'm running another dual sword with a different elemental damage: DUAL SWORD 2: O-Kanehira & Uguisu-maru Enemies Defeated Damage Bonus Close combat attack ki reduction Skill life drain Close combat ki damage Final blow damage Change to attack (aim for A+) Lightning (pairs with Kara-jishi, the Guardian Spirit of Choice)

Note: Use any weapon here that you like. I have a second Dual Sword set for two reasons.  One is I like to have access to a second elemental type. If I'm doing a water level, I'll swap this out for a Fire dual sword, for example. However, the main reason I do this is because I hate seeing all the weapon clutter on my character. I don't like seeing a spear sticking out, I hate seeing a giant cannon on my back, and I dislike the dangling Kusarigama. So I put on a second dual sword and in turn don't see a different secondary weapon attached to my character :)

**THIRD WEAPON**: * BOW: Tate-ugachi Long range attack damage Enemies Defeated Damage Bonus Ranged bulls-eye bonus Life recovery from bulls-eye

**FOURTH WEAPON**: * RIFLE: Ravenwing Rifle Familiarity Damage Bonus Longe Range Attack Damage Ranged bulls-eye bonus Life Recovery from bulls-eye Equipment drop rate

* damage bonuses are what to focus on. Life recovery is also good as often you take a shot when giving one.

**ARMOR: Justice Ministry Armor Set (Minimum stat requires Body 15, Skill 16)**

Note: I have refashioned my armor set. The Justice Ministry Armor set looks different to what you see in the video.

**JUSTICE MINISTRY ARMOR SET PERKS:** Damage Reduction 1.6% Skill damage (Moon Shadow) 30% (I don't use this though) Close combat damage 9.7% Living Weapon duration +3 Amrita Guage Addition +21.4% Strong attack ki damage +15.6%

Armor perks to focus on are: Life Ki Toughness Defense Attack

Note: Attack rolls on gloves only, but it is inheritable. That means once you gain full familiarity on a set of gloves with an Attack perk, you can soul match the attack into any piece in your armor set. So, find non armor set gloves, use them until your Familiarity bar is full, then soul match them into your armor set. Rinse and repeat until you have Attack on all armor pieces.

Optional: Look to reforge and gain each of the following perks, adding each perk only once to an armor piece (ie, spreading them out across your armor set): Unlimited Onmyo Damage Bonus (less Armor) Amrita Earned Dash Endurance

**EQUIPMENT:** Select items that give you Yokai Close Combat Damage & Earth Damage as priorities. If you can get items that have both, use them. If not, Yokai Close Combat Damage is the priority, Earth second. Other than that, Living Weapon Enhancement and Durability is next on the list.

**SHORTCUTS 1** Earth Talisman x4 Weakness Talisman x4 Carnage Talisman x4 Lifeseal Talisman x4

**SHORTCUTS 2** Elixir Protection Talisman x3 Guardian Spirit x3 Sloth Talisman x2 (I carry 2 for the what if moments, but if I want to farm I'll up this to 6. Farming revenants with sloth is super fast and super easy. Sloth isn't really needed with this build aside from its usefulness with speeding up farming. Also, use it if you want to for fun, just because.)

Note: You can mix up your shortcuts to the number of each item that suits your play style. Often I'll run 6 Earth Talismans and 6 Lifeseal Talisman's, and run less of something else so I can do that. With Earth and lifeseal enemies don't last long!

**GUARDIAN SPIRIT (A few choices, depending on situation and your play style)** Kara-jishi (the inherent INCREASE ATTACK (SKILL) perk is the best damage perk, even though it doesn't give a value. I tried multiple Guardian Spirits. There's a few good ones that work nicely with this build, but Kara-jishi stands out among the crowd. Unfortunately I'm not a big fan of Kara-jishi's Talisman attack. It doesn't do much and it is easy to completely miss your enemy with it. But, it has a passive perk of life drain 20 which is great. Put life recovery on a weapon and it's health all day!

You can also use Paired Raiken, which when maxed gives 17.5% Ki Damage and 18% Yokai Close Combat Damage. Paired Raiken's Talisman attack isn't too bad.

My personal favorite Talisman ability is the dragon Guardian Spirit Mizuchi. It knocks down anything, looks awesome, and its Living Weapon doesn't reorient your character when you activate it like Kato or other guardians that spin you around. Plus, though it's damage perks start low, they increase with each kill. The longer you go without dying, which is easy with this build, the more damage you do - and this applies to all damage, not just skill like Kara-jishi does, so you can have fun playing how you like and not just spamming Whirlwind, if you want.

So for me I run Mizuchi for increasing damage, knockdown, and, well, I like the animation. But if I'm farming and want immediate devastating damage, I run Kara-jishi.

Note: I have my favorite Guardian Spirits maxed to level 30. Doesn't take much to do this. Just farm the White Tiger (I have posted a video on how to do this) for heaps of Amrita and you can level up a Guardian Spirit from scratch completely in less than half an hour.

**SKILLS**

Okay, here are the skills I have unlocked. The number in brackets is the number of skill points it will take to unlock it. I put a total on each one. Some include the number of the skill prior to it to give a proper indication of how many skill points it will take to unlock the skill you actually want. Use these numbers to help guide you where and in what order to put your valuable skill points as you level up.

**SKILLS (UNIVERSAL)** Grapple (1) Ki Pulse: Heaven (1) Living Water: Heaven (5) Ki Pulse: Man (1) Living Water Man (3) Ki Pulse: Earth (1) Living Water: Earth (1)

**SKILLS (SWORD)** Indomitable Spirit III (2+4+5+6=17) Relentless III (3+5+6+7=21) Sword of Execution (Mystic Art) (7)

**SKILLS (DUAL SWORD)** Tachi Arts: III (1+6+7+8=22) Windstorm (3) Windstorm II (4) Defense Arts: III (2+4+5+6=17) The Shrike (2+3=7) Momentum (Mystic Art) (7) Note: Moonshadow is perked by 30% with Justice Ministry Armor. I didn't really like spinning around behind the enemy, so I dumped this skill with a subsequent build. If you want it, it will cost you 13 extra Samurai points to unlock, or you'll have to dump something.

**SKILLS (SPEAR)** Cornered Tiger III (2+2+7+8=19)

**SKILLS (AXE)** Fortitude III (2+3+4+5+6=24) Inner Light (Mystic art) (7) Cornered Boar III (3+6+7+8)

**SKILLS (Kusarigama)** Armor Piercer III (3+5+6+7=21) Full Moon Kata III (2+4+5+6=17)

**SKILLS (NINJA)** Concealment (Mystic Art) - makes bows and guns devastating Quivermaker II (2+3=5) Bowmaster I (2) Shot Pouch I (4) Dashing III (1+3+4+5=13) Cloudrunner II (3)

**SKILLS (ONMYO MAGIC)** Weakness Talisman III (1+1+2+3=7) Lifeseal Talisman III (1+2+3=6) Talisman: Sloth III (2+3+4=9) Awakening (Mystic Art) (5) Talisman: Earth III (1+2+3=6) Pure Mind: III (2+3+4=9) Protection Talisman III (1+1+4+5+6=17) Evil Ward III (2+3+4=9) Carnage Talisman III (1+2+3=6) Guardian Spirit Talisman III (2+3+4=9) Inanimate Enchantment III (2+3+4=9) Incantation Mastery III (3) - important to save you from putting more points into magic in order to ready magic at the shrine and equip it all

Note: Magic Capacity tops out at 40. So the reason I've unlocked all III's is to make sure I can use as much of my magic abilities as possible for the cheapest magic cost available.

**KODAMA BLESSING** Whatever you want. I usually go for more Amrita as this helps perk getting your Living Weapon faster and helps you level up faster, but if I'm chasing a weapon or armor or doing a level I think I need more elixirs for, I'll select whatever fits. Pretty much choose what suits your needs at the time, but go for Amrita as your staple.

**CLAN - Honda** I ran with Kato for a fair bit of NG+, which gives 10% Earth Damage and you get 10% less damage when attacking. Then I ran Date for a bit, as this perks Living Weapon with durability of +100 and Living Weapon duration of 5.0. But I found after a while I didn't use Living Weapon that much, so I went with Honda to get the 7% extra damage with Whirlwind and (if you use it) the Moonshadow skill, plus 40% less damage on the first hit you take when your health is full. That's a pretty awesome perk worth having with this build. You can go Tachibana for extra lightning damage if you're taking advantage of a lightning build.

Note: Also remember you get small perks for the more Prestige you have. So be sure to go for reputation points by getting Titles etc. This usually gets overlooked but it all helps!

Video for farming White Tiger Fur (requirement to forge the dual swords for this set): https://youtu.be/iKh4dHfz9AI

Video for farming the set itself: https://youtu.be/e5d5B6bChj4

[solivar]

WIP: I Heard The Bells

aka the one where Jesse makes all his friends cry on Christmas for more than one reason

@joasakura continues to be the absolute best for graciously permitting me the use of Tombo, Zentatsu, and Mizuchi

Content Warning: somewhat more graphic than usual canon-typical violence, frank discussion of horrible gunshot wounds and their effects on the human body

Now featuring a surprise revelation, an unexpected realization, and trouble finding its way to the door.

The packages arrived within hours of each other, in cascading order, earliest time zones first, on Christmas Eve. And, for a miraculous change, nothing -- no deficiencies of local air or ground mail delivery, no perfidious intent-thwarting issues of back-ordering or selling out, nobody failing to be where they were supposed to be when they were supposed to be there -- managed to screw a single solitary bit of it up. He watched it all come together as the delivery notifications popped up on his tablet, from the vantage of a cheapass hotel room in Fredericksburg while he waited for it to get dark enough and late enough to complete the last stage of his self-chosen mission.

Within sixteen minutes of the first delivery, his phone chimed with the tone he’d assigned to Genji the very instant he’d found out his former partner in twentysomething angst had shacked up in a Nepalese monastery with an omnic spiritual adviser. It was a gong. The most obnoxious gong available in open source sound files. Hearing it now brought an extremely satisfied little grin to his face, a grin that stretched a fraction wider with each new, unique text notification tone.

Really. It was almost as good as being there.

🌟

Dr. Angela Ziegler desired nothing more than sleep. She longed for the soft, cool embrace of her pillow as she desired absolutely nothing and no one else for years. The terrible, heavily bleached hospital sheets she and everyone else slept on called to her with the sweetest of siren voices. The door to the suite she shared with the two other doctors -- an infectious disease treatment specialist and an epidemic disease control specialist -- with whom she was coordinating the establishment of the world’s first teaching hospital interfacing all of their disciplines lay but a few feet away and she had, at that very moment, been awake so many hours in a row that she was perfectly willing to abandon a lifetime of heartfelt pacifism if someone would try to prevent her from reaching it. So close.

“Angela!”

And yet so far.

“Yes, Kate?” Katherine Solaja was an amazingly gifted young woman, afire with the desire to help others, a quick study and a steady head under pressure, and generally Angela was grateful to have such a talented young physician working with her. At the moment, however, she was firmly resisting the urge to introduce her resident to the truest meaning of the term ‘defenestration’ and then offer the last fifty-two sleepless hours as her defense when someone came to arrest her. Perhaps they would be kind enough to handcuff her to her bed and wheel her out that way.

“You have got to come down to the office. Something just arrived for you with the late mail drop-off.” Angela found her hand in Kate’s uncompromisingly energetic grip and, before her weary brain could formulate a coherent objection, she was being pulled down the hall and into the elevator.

“Kate,” Angela began.

“I know you’re tired, Angela. But I’m serious. You need to see this.” Kate was grinning, dark eyes shining with glee.

“What could possibly be so -- “

“Trust me. You’re going to want to see this.”

The elevator doors hissed open and Angela again allowed herself to be dragged along, into the labrynth of offices that occupied the hospital’s lowest floors, her own inclusive, which seemed to contain entirely too many people for that time of day. Entirely too many, and most of them loitering in the vicinity of her own neatly arranged workspace, which at the moment contained a desk, three floor to ceiling bookshelves, a potted ficus, a tiny holotank in one corner, approximately the entire senior medical advisory staff, and a cylindrical object approximately three feet around and four feet tall, wrapped in silver paper neatly stamped down its side with air mail shipment codes.

“What in the name of God is that?” Angela asked, completely flummoxed.

“That’s what we’d all like to know.” Kate nudged her gently forward. “Like I said, it came in with the late mail. Go on, Angela, open it open it open it.”

“It’s -- “ Slowly, Angela’s weary mind put the pieces together -- the lateness of the day, the lateness of the year, the unexpected late delivery. “Oh, dear. It’s Christmas eve, isn’t it?”

She found herself collecting a series of pitying looks and, gathering the remains of her dignity about her, she stepped forward to examine the object. Not just silver paper, clearly -- it was a far heavier gauge than simple paper, wrapped in an overlapping scallop design that came together at the top beneath a medallion of what was probably not sealing wax but which artfully resembled it nonetheless. Fortunately, she had absentmindedly stuck a clean scalpel into her pen case earlier that day; it slid beneath the edge of the seal and disengaged it without damaging the seal itself. She palmed it into the pocket of her lab coat as the wrapping unfolded itself, expelling a burst of intensely cold air and releasing a genuine flurry of impossibly tiny snowflakes as it did so, glittering briefly in the artificially dry air of the hospital complex’ air conditioning. The entire assembly took a sudden breath, some ooohed, others ahhhed, there was at least one squeal that Angela suspected came from Kate.

The little Christmas tree contained inside the package was utterly perfect in every way, its blue fir branches glittering with a hint of frost, strung with beaded golden and crimson garland, hung with impossibly tiny and perfect blown glass ornaments, the angel atop it bearing a rather suggestive resemblance to her Valkyrie suit as occupied by she herself. Piled at its base were a selection of equally tiny and perfect individually wrapped presents, all of them tagged with her name in a hand she knew well.

“You’ve been holding out on me,” Kate murmured as Angela bent down and retrieved one, opening it to reveal an orb of dark chocolate molded in the shape of a Christmas ornament. “You do have a secret admirer.”

Angela handed her the tiny gift box. “No...not an admirer. A brother.”

At that moment, her phone buzzed for the first time, and continued to do so steadily for the next three hours.

🌟

WickedCuteButDeadly:

Oh my God. OH MY GOD.

DeathFromAbove:

Are you kidding me? You too? Is is a tree? He sent you a tree, didn’t he.

WickedCuteButDeadly:

HE DID. IT’S SO CUTE I WANT TO DIE. AND -- look, I don’t know about the rest of you, but I don’t have a good number for him, the last time he called me was, oh, maybe three months ago wanted to be sure he had a good snail mail addie for me, and I spent two hours chewing his ear about Em and how we met and how wonderful she was and how happy we were AND HE SENT US A PREPAID RESERVATION CARD FOR A COUPLES WEEKEND AT THIS SWANK SPA HOTEL IN PARIS AND THE NUMBER I HAVE FOR HIM IS NO GOOD ANYMORE AND I KNOW AT LEAST ONE OF YOU HAS TO KNOW HOW TO GET IN TOUCH WITH HIM. Ange, it’s you, isn’t it? It has to be you, you’re his DOCTOR.

DeathFromAbove:

My tree is covered in miniature planes from the dawn of aviation to the present. I’m afraid to open any of the boxes. My heart can only take so much.

WickedCuteButDeadly:

Do it. You know you want to, Fareeha.

DeathFromAbove: …

DeathFromAbove: …

DeathFromAbove: …

DeathFromAbove:

This is not okay. I can’t stop crying.

WickedCuteButDeadly: ????!!!!!!

DeathFromAbove:

You remember that huge old erector set I had as a kid? The one my father got me for...I want to say my tenth birthday? I lost it in one of the moves sometime before I went away to college and I swear I only told him about it once and he found it HE FOUND IT. I’VE GOT IT SITTING IN MY LAP RIGHT NOW. I don’t even know how he knew I was going to be in Vancouver for Christmas this year, I only finalized my plans two weeks ago!

WickedCuteButDeadly:

Angie, please.

DeathFromAbove:

Angela, you have GOT to tell us.

SantasLittlestHelper:

I don’t know how he remembers ALL THEIR NAMES and all their favorite candies. I’m their FATHER and I don’t remember all that at the same time.

🌟

Angela fell asleep with her phone still vibrating next to her on the bed, having given away far more of Teuscher’s wonderful champagne truffles than she actually ate herself and without receiving a reply to the text she sent to the one contact number she had.

🌟

The inner rooms of the monastery were, it was generally agreed by all residents and visitors, far warmer than the outer chambers -- the milled stone walls were paneled in ancient, fragrant wood, hung with the heavy woolen draperies woven in the radiant iris pattern of the Shambali order dyed in brilliant hues of saffron and emerald. They captured the warmth of strategically placed high efficiency solar powered ceramic heaters and the more traditional charcoal braziers and the banks of votary candles in the memorial shrine dedicated to Tekhartha Mondatta, kept it close for the succour of the monastery’s handful of entirely human residents. Most were postulants to the order, men and women who had come from all corners of the Earth, drawn by the offer of all-encompassing inclusion and acceptance that lay at the core of the Shambali philosophy. Some were tourists -- the monastery opened its doors to the curious as well as the dedicated, provided they were willing to respect the customs of the order during the course of their stay. Only one was a professional assassin.

The assassin occupied one of the outermost of the inner chambers -- it was cooler, markedly so, but also significantly less likely to result in being forced to interact involuntarily with another human being, particularly the sort of human being likely to seriously strain his minimal tolerance for idiocy. (There were a number of wealthy tourists on hand at the moment, forced by the weather to wait for the next stage of their pre-packaged Journey Of Enlightenment, and they were growing gradually less enamored with the pursuit of spiritual evolution and union in the soul of the world with every passing day, most of which were exceedingly cold. The monks tolerated them because the tour companies always donated generously on top of the standard fees, the novices tolerated them because they could always claim to be functioning under vows of silence in order to escape unsatisfactory conversations, and the assassin tolerated them, barely, because there were simply not enough places to hide all the bodies -- the snow piled at the bottom of the cliff would, after all, melt eventually.) He had arrived at the end of autumn, just ahead of the first snows, greeted with an excess of enthusiasm by his brother -- a student of Tekhartha Zenyatta -- that many considered equal parts ill-advised and adorable, and, after a lengthy private interview with the elder sibling serving as abbot that season, was permitted to stay. He selected a room on the same corridor as the chambers his brother and the mendicant Zenyatta occupied when they were in residence, and thereafter he was an enticing mystery to the rest of the monastery’s inhabitants, a phantom within its walls, nearly invisible unless he chose to be seen and he almost never allowed it. The cooks saw more of him than the monks, for he would occasionally take his meals in their company, and the security team that patrolled the plateau on which the monastery sat, who occasionally witnessed the feats of physical prowess he indulged in during his personal exercise regime. The best chance anyone else had of seeing him was on one of those rare days when he made use of one of the public chapels or meditation rooms, rather than retiring to the privacy of his own chamber.

It was therefore a matter of some note when, one morning just at the edge of dawn, when no one but the earliest-rising novices would be stirring, he emerged from his quarters dressed in a manner that would not have looked out of place in a painting of the Heian imperial court, carrying a small rolled silk case in the crook of one arm. Word of this astonishing sight -- rendered even more astonishing by the sharp contrast with his decidedly untraditional hair and even less traditional piercings -- made the rounds from novice to support staff back to novice and from there to more than a few monks while he was still crossing the courtyard to the dokhang. By the time he set foot on the first of the five staircases he would thereafter climb, the prayer hall was at least half-full of novices, monks, and three sleep-groggy tourists, most of whom shamelessly watched him in his progress, for reasons ranging from wildly irrepressible curiosity to absolute prurience, for no one could deny the sight of him at that moment was one of the most glorious to be found on the mountain. At the top of the fifth and final staircase, he retired to one of the uppermost meditation chambers, politely declined the offer of a senior monk to bring him anything that he might require to effectuate his devotions, and slid the door shut.

🌟

It took twenty minutes to grind the ink to his satisfaction and another twenty to make certain that it was warm enough in the vicinity of the plate for his chosen medium to remain in its liquid state. The upper meditation rooms were, in general, fiercely cold at the best of times and today the cold was particularly penetrating -- the wind was light but constant, dry enough to suck the last lingering traces of moisture out of any exposed skin, and with a certain cutting edge to it that suggested the weather might be about to make one of its unpredictable high altitude changes. The pass leading up from the next nearest village had only just been cleared enough to allow passage the evening prior; below in the courtyard, the tourists were making good their chance at escape. At the moment, the sky was a pure and perfect shade of blue that reminded him of his dragons’ scales, the snow-capped Himalayan peaks that ringed the monastery’s high plateau shone savagely in the thin winter sunlight and undulated away in a manner that reminded him of their coils as they flew, and he wanted nothing more than to capture the image in paper and ink. The exceedingly traditional multiple layers of heavy winter clothing simply meant he could do so without freezing to death while in the best painter’s vantage point in all of Shambali.

He rendered the faint, nearly invisible filaments of windbourne snow curling away from the saw-backed ridge of the mountains in the palest, pearlescent shades of gray, the bones of the mountains themselves in a darker wash, a wider stroke. The snow itself was nothing more than the pure white of the silk on which he painted, it existence delineated in washes of pale gray that established the shape of the snow line, the jut of stone and ice in slightly darker shades. It was soothing, to create so, allowing the brush to dance and the ink to sing in a way that he had not for years, having neither the leisure nor, if he were being honest with himself, the desire. Painting had given him great peace and joy as a child, and even as a young adult; as an adult, with violence and death as his closest companions, it seemed nearly obscene to engage in such pleasures, the perversion of an art of which his hands were no longer worthy. He still did not feel worthy, precisely, but now his own absence of virtue seemed to matter somehow less, enough that he could lose himself in the serenity of drawing his brush across an unblemished length of silken canvas, allow his thoughts to vanish into the concentration needed to compose each stroke, to contemplate nothing but the image taking shape before him. His spirit was as still as the surface of a lake on a windless day, tranquil enough that, when the dragons stirred within him to watch what he was doing, it disturbed him not at all and, for the briefest of instants, his awareness became theirs and theirs became his --

Something sent a ripple of dissonance through them -- through them and into him, jarring his concentration and, very nearly, his arm, and it was only intensely disciplined reflexes that saved the stroke from complete ruination. For an instant, the insides of his skull were a jumble of perception and emotion not his own -- a flash of something silver, a flash of something green-gold-crimson, a breath of cold, surprise childlike delight a sudden stab of sorrow so intense it brought involuntary tears to his eyes and made Tombo keen softly --

Hanzo blinked the tears -- not his own -- out of his eyes, set his brush carefully aside, and briefly considered the stairs before deciding that swinging over the window ledge, sliding down the secondary roof, and climbing down the side of the dokhang was altogether more efficient, particularly once he shed a few layers of clothing. Fortunately, most of the tourists had already departed the courtyard; also fortunately, those that were left contented themselves with gawking and did nothing to impede him as he crossed the distance between the prayer hall and the monastery’s living quarters at a dead sprint. The cluster of human and omnic novices gathered in the dormitory’s central common hall was too small to be called a crowd, no more than a handful really, but they effectively screened the source of the distress that had cried out to him. Fortunately, they also knew, to a being, that it was generally best to get out of his way.

“Genji?”

His brother sat cross-legged in the middle of the common room floor in front of what looked, to his eye at least, like a fully decorated albeit miniature Christmas tree -- branches somehow frost-coated despite the relative warmth of the room, tiny ornaments glittering and, unless he was seriously mistaken, that was a Pachimaru sitting on the top, where an angel or a star ought to be. It was. A Pachimaru. Genji’s head was in his hands and his shoulders were quivering silently and there was a box sitting open on his lap. And not a single one of any of those things made the slightest trace of sense, taken individually or together, and so he knelt, and carefully placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder, firmly resisting the urge to shake something resembling an answer out of him before he was ready to provide it on his own.

It took some moments before Genji was ready to speak and, when he did, his voice was not steady, synthesized or not. “I -- My apologies, aniki. I did not mean to disturb you. But I...was not expecting this, in any way.”

“You did not disturb me.” Softly. “What has happened? Why -- “

Silently, Genji showed him the package. Inside, nestled carefully in a mass of impact-resistant wrap and neon green tissue paper, were a pair of hand-held game machines, one black with green fittings, the other black and red. Perplexed, Hanzo looked up and found his brother’s eyes swimming again with unshed tears and, before he had even the slightest chance to construct a reasonable interrogative about either, Genji’s head was resting in the crook of his neck and his shoulder. He did, at least, know what to do about that, and wrapped his brother close. It seemed to be the correct choice, for shortly thereafter Genji began to speak again, softly. “When I was...first recovering...the initial neuromechanical attunement was...complex. I could not walk reliably for weeks. I was confined to the medical research complex at Watchpoint Geneva for much of it. I was losing my mind from the boredom -- I was not yet allowed access to anything and then...one day...someone found out about it and decided enough was enough. And brought me these.” A pause. “Well, probably not these particularly since these are much newer but...the same thing. Something to distract me. To help with something that...simply made me feel better.” He could hear the smile, tremulous thought it might be, in his brother’s voice. “I can imagine that Jesse would think a monastery on the top of a mountain in the middle of the winter would be the very definition of madness-inducing boredom.”

“Jesse?” The word itched at the back of Hanzo’s mind, familiar for no good reason that he could name.

“Jesse McCree.” Genji pronounced that ridiculous surname with the ease of long familiarity. “A comrade in arms and a very dear friend.” A flicker of expression crossed his face, a welter of emotions mostly visible in his expressive eyes. “I have often wished -- “

“McCree.” Hanzo knew he was mangling it, and the uncontrollable twitch at the corner of Genji’s mouth confirmed it. “Are you certain this came from him?”

“It is extremely likely. He knew that Zenyatta and I would be here through the winter and his Christmas gifts in the past have been…” Genji gestured eloquently. “Not quite as elaborate as this, but always well-meant and heartfelt. He cannot be with us, and so instead sends the best that he can give.”

“Why?” Hanzo caught the tiny package Genji tossed at him and opened it to find it contained higashi, carefully shaped in the form of snowflakes, tinted blue and silver, and he decided in that instant whatever faults the absent friend might possess, bad taste was not among them.

“Not all of us joined, or left, with a clean slate.” Unspoken: Overwatch. “Jesse attempted to wipe his clean but circumstances conspired against him, then and now. He -- “

It clicked into place then -- suddenly and all at once, he knew where he had heard that name before, and in what context, and he forced his face empty of expression. “Genji.” He reached into the innermost pocket of his clothing and drew out his tablet, thumbed open the lock, scrolled through the most recent half-dozen of his contracts, made his selection, and handed it to his brother. “Is this your friend?”

Genji’s brows knit momentarily. “How -- ?” He looked, and read, and the last of the color fled the scarred skin of his face.

“Someone attempted to hire me to kill him before I came here.” Hanzo replied.

🌟

GreenCyborgNinjaDude has joined the conversation.

GreenCyborgNinjaDude: Does anyone know how to contact Jesse?

DeathFromAbove: LET ME GUESS. He sent you a TREE and EVERYTHING UNDER IT made you cry like a two year old?

WickedCuteButDeadly: I DID NOT CRY. We both cried, it’s not the same thing if everyone’s crying all at once.

DoNotHassleTheHoff: A case of the finest Schwarzbier, a currywurst sampler, and two tickets to the Hasselfest tribute concert next year. Tears were shed. MANLY TEARS.

SantasLittlestHelper: He remembered the names of all my children AND my wife AND somehow knew that I needed a new portable thermal anvil. I suspect a conspiracy.

DeathFromAbove: And Angela isn’t answering her phone --

GreenCyborgNinjaDude: My friends, please. THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT. Do ANY OF YOU have good contact information for him? The number I had now belongs to a very pleasant young woman who did not appear to speak any of the languages I know.

DeathFromAbove: Not I.

SantasLittlestHelper: Alas, no, or I’d have used it.

DoNotHassleTheHoff: Nein.

WickedCuteButDeadly: I was trying to get someone to cough it up earlier. Still think Angie’s our best bet but she’s not picking up or answering texts.

GreenCyborgNinjaDude: This is bad.

WickedCuteButDeadly: What’s the ish, Genji?

GreenCyborgNinjaDude: I have unfortunately excellent reason to believe that he is in danger. MORTAL danger.

DeathFromAbove: …

WickedCuteButDeadly: …

DoNotHassleTheHoff: …

SantasLittlestHelper: …

WickedCuteButDeadly: SPILL IT.

GreenCyborgNinjaDude: An...acquaintance...here in the monastery witnessed the arrival of my present and recognized Jesse’s name when I spoke of him, and indicated to me that he was offered a contract on Jesse’s life before he came to Nepal, but ultimately declined.

DeathFromAbove: An ACQUAINTANCE? At the MONASTERY?

GreenCyborgNinjaDude: It is a very long story. But I have no reason to doubt him or consider his information in any way not credible. The request came through a contract broker my acquaintance has worked with more than once in the past -- I have seen enough of the negotiation to know that, whoever made the request, they knew enough of Jesse’s service with Blackwatch to extend specific warning of his abilities. And they seem to know where he is going to be tonight.

WickedCuteButDeadly: TONIGHT?

GreenCyborgNinjaDude: Yes. The contractor seems to believe he will be at Arlington National Cemetery tonight.

WickedCuteButDeadly: IT’S CHRISTMAS!

DeathFromAbove: I’m pretty sure anybody willing to put out a hit on someone isn’t really going to care about that, Lena.

WickedCuteButDeadly: I KNOW that but -- it’s the PRINCIPLE of the thing! And at

DoNotHassleTheHoff: Gabriel’s grave. He is going to visit Gabriel’s grave.

DeathFromAbove: I’m trying Angela again. Is there anybody in the eastern United States right now? ANYBODY?

WickedCuteButDeadly: If we took off from Gibraltar RIGHT NOW it would take us at least eleven hours to get there -- we couldn’t cruise at commercial air altitude -- and we can’t take off right now, I’d have to fuel up for a long-haul flight and run preflight checks and

DeathFromAbove: I’m closer and I’m still not close enough, Lena. It’s not your fault. Angela, please, please pick up.

🌟

Genji was distraught. That, alone, was astonishing -- Genji, as a young adult, had been charismatic, effortlessly charming to all except the eldest and most hidebound members of the clan, almost casually lethal with everything from blades to the edge of his tongue, and as utterly self-absorbed as it was possible to be. Hanzo, then, had thought he could count the number of people his brother actually cared about on the fingers of one hand, if that, and rarely considered himself among the number.

Hanzo, now, had more than one reason to reevaluate his judgment. He had not anticipated, when he made his decision to follow Genji to Nepal and make the attempt to reconcile all that had passed between them, that he would witness his brother in fear for the life of another. It occupied the precise space between astonishing and heartwrenching and Hanzo, for the first time in a long time, had no idea how to react.

“There must be something that can be done,” Genji muttered, on his sixth pass around the perimeter of the dormitory common room, now cleared of random bystanders by the order of the abbott, who had sent senior monks to shoo them back to their own neglected tasks. He was dialing another number that could, in theory, be used to contact Dr. Angela Ziegler who, it seemed, could be anywhere from Zurich to some godforsaken war zone without even the most basic communication service; the woman did not, apparently, even take holidays off and she was, in the estimation of all, the most likely to know how to reach Jesse McCree. Thus far, no one had managed to raise her.

His brother was, at most, sixteen seconds away from literally climbing the walls in his anxiety, for which Hanzo could not at all blame him. A discreet nibble around the edges to his intermediary had yielded the information that the contract was no longer available -- not cancelled but accepted and closed to further interested parties. That was, in his estimation, no good news whatsoever, given that he had been directly and personally approached for the matter. His particular skills, areas of expertise, and reputation placed him among fairly rarified company in the loose and not especially friendly society of freelance killers-for-hire; he could think of three who could reasonably be considered his equals and only one his superior and none whom he would wish to bet against in matters of life or death.

Genji uttered a number of uncomplimentary things under his breath in Japanese and came to a halt, folding into a place at his side, deliberately and carefully setting down his phone between them. Hanzo rather thought he wanted to throw it, either against the nearest wall or off the side of the mountain, and that impression was confirmed an instant later as Genji flexed his hands, his wrists, flicked weapons from beneath the armor his forearms, between his fingers, and then back into their housing, nothing about the gesture bleeding any tension from the set of his shoulders, the length of his body. “Hanzo.”

“Suzume.” He rested his hand on Genji’s shoulder and could not miss the shudder that passed through him.

“Please tell me that he will survive this.” It emerged as a whisper, barely given voice at all.

It was on the tip of his tongue to utter a comforting lie. He was spared the necessity of making it sound convincing by a soft chiming, almost as of bells, and an equally quiet voice. “My apologies, Shimada-san. It was not my intention to interrupt.”

Genji took a ragged breath. “Master.”

“Tekhartha.” Hanzo inclined his head slightly in greeting. “No apology is necessary, and your company is welcome.”

It was only a slight overstatement; Genji found his deepest comfort in the companionship of his mentor, and comfort was what his brother needed more than anything but a solution right now. Tekhartha Zenyatta, hovering in the doorway yet, bowed from the neck and floated to Genji’s side. In his wake, the senior Shambali monk acting as the monastery’s abbot also entered the hall and, if it were possible for machines to look thoroughly and utterly uncomfortable, Hanzo would have used those words to describe his posture, the set of his spine.

“It was not my intention to interrupt,” Zenyatta continued in that same perfectly modulated voice, the one that he adopted when he was strenuously controlling the urge to allow the direction of his thoughts to show in his tone, “but I feel that I must do so. It has been brought to my attention,” out of the corner of his eye, Hanzo swore he saw the omnic abbot actually flinch slightly, “that we have at our disposal a means of reaching your friend more swiftly than we thought.”

Tekhartha Zenyatta turned what had to be the most heavily weighted look Hanzo had ever witnessed between two omnics on his brother, the abbot, who responded with a low, deep bow -- to Zenyatta, to Genji, and, peripherally, to himself. When he spoke, his voice was also a carefully expressionless tone. “Some months ago, after much discussion among the elder siblings in residence here in Shambali,” the faintest hint of reproach colored residence, Hanzo thought, “it was decided that we required a more reliable method of transport into and out of the monastery in the event of an emergency -- physical danger to the community in the form of attack, or an inability to resupply by our ordinary methods due to weather. We therefore entered into a contract with the Vishkar Corporation to meet our needs in this regard.”

“What Brother Dzasatta is trying to say,” Zenyatta cut in, coolly, “is that the monastery is now equipped with an active short range telestation.”

“What.” It was not actually a question and Genji surged to his feet in a sinuous motion that, only barely, remembered to turn into a bow. “Brother Dzasatta, may we -- “

“Yes. Yes, you may.” The poor abbott sounded as though it gave him enormous pain just to say it and Hanzo could not help but wonder how many arms Zenyatta had to twist, and with how much enthusiasm, to achieve that permission. “We have already calculated your route. Our telestation is not powerful enough to reach the United States directly -- you will have to transit in stages, from here to Tehran, Tehran to Istanbul, Istanbul to Madrid, and Madrid to Washington, DC. The arrangements have already been made but you must depart soon.”

“Thank you, elder brother.” Genji bowed again, lower this time, and then turned to him. “Aniki, I must -- “

“I know.” Hanzo rose. “Give me a moment to change and retrieve my case and I will -- “

The force of his brother’s embrace lifted him entirely off the floor.

🌟

Columbarium Court Nine would, in any other place, have been a cemetery all by itself, a long fully walled quadruple rectangle of elegantly designed and expertly tended landscaping, the perfectly flat-cobbled lanes between the niche walls kept clear of snow in the winter and leaves in the autumn and blowing blossoms from the flowering trees in the spring, the marble benches discreetly placed just so in the central memorial garden, around the fountain, for mourners to sit and collect themselves, before or after or both. Since it was sitting in Arlington National Cemetery, it just happened to have the distinction of being the largest of several of its kind, originally part of an expansion intended to extend the useful life of the cemetery, and then expanded twice more in the years since its construction, home to sixty thousand inurnment niches, about half of which were in use. By day it was the very image of martial, commemoratory solemnity, row upon row of variegated gray stone walls faced in gleaming white memorial plaques, surrounded outside in row upon row of headstones and monuments and, in at least a few places, something vaguely resembling a serious attempt at security fencing, mostly around the places where, paradoxically, people were supposed to enter the grounds.

Jesse McCree had been to Arlington National Cemetery exactly once by daylight and the occasion still resided under the heading of the Worst Day of My Life in his memory, only dragged out and examined under duress or too much terrible whiskey in the middle of the night or some combination of the two. Subsequently, he kept his visits confined to those hours when he was distinctly unlikely to encounter another living being -- well after official closing time, far after dark, and he never bothered hopping one of the more properly fency fences while it was possible to jump off the top of the last metro train of the evening, over the significantly lower back-end fence along the tracks, and walk the rest of the way under the cover of night and the thin copses of trees still left standing along the perimeter. It was particularly possible that night: bitter cold and dark, the moon a brushstroke crescent hanging low in the west, the rest of the sky an empty arch of light pollution that offered no help to unenhanced eyes. He had a flashlight clipped to his belt for the parts of the walk that lay outside the nimbus of the security lamps scattered along the main thoroughfares, routes he generally avoided, in any case -- the grounds weren’t patrolled, but there was always a full guard complement on station, rotating on and off watch at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier through the night. And, once he was inside the outer wall of the Columbarium, through the arch of the ungated gate, he had no need, could find his way to where he was going without eyes if necessary.

Overwatch had its own monument, plunked down on one of the plots set aside for the memorialization of future disasters, immediately next to the significantly larger one dedicated to all the victims of the Omnic Crisis, civilian, military, and otherwise. One of them was, in fact, a columbarium in its own right, laid out in the form of the organization’s insignia, Morrison’s nonstandard gravestone beneath which his ashes were interred dead center, and every former member of Overwatch who had also first been a member of the American armed forces had the at least theoretical right to be buried there. In practice, “anyone” included a specific exclusion, for the obvious reasons, particularly when the six layers of international and domestic bureaucratic fuckery involved in the decisions related to who got to rest where could veto each other and reject requests for reconsideration until Hell froze over solidly. The Marine Corps, by way of contrast, had authorized Silvia Reyes’ request on behalf of her late brother without hesitation -- Major Gabriel Reyes had, after all, saved the entire goddamned world while still under their colors and, even if the rest of his service record was so classified God himself wasn’t rated high enough to access it, that was something they never forgot for one minute.

Gabe’s niche was in the newer segment of Court Nine, in one of the alcoves at the far end of the whole structure, a quiet and secluded little spot equipped with its own sculpted marble bench and a little patch of garden around the base of a wide-spreading sakura, currently winter bare, a bit of ice clinging to its corners. The plaque wasn’t quite centered in the back wall but it was at least still mostly aligned with the bench, more or less at eye level, polished white marble incised with his name and final rank, Omnic Crisis, two dates nowhere near far enough apart, You Are Not Forgotten. Silvia and Lorena always came in the summer, on his birthday, to make sure the plaque was tended and to lay flowers; he always came at Christmas, by mutual agreement, to lay the wreath.

The wreath, this year, was tiny, a braided confection of evergreen and holly made by the same former client who’d constructed the trees, strung through with strands of beaded garland in black, white, red, and came with a hook small enough to hang on the lip of the plaque. He fussed with it a bit until it looked just right. “Been awhile, shizhé’é’. Got quite a bit to catch you up on.”

The glass and the bottle wrapped up in his pockets had come through the jump-off-the-train-and-roll routine without a scratch, fortunately, though both were warmer than they’d been when he set out. He cracked the seal and a scent more in common with summer filled the cold air, cherries and almonds, the liquor clear as it  poured, the kirschwasser he’d developed a taste for while living in Switzerland. It wasn’t sweet, which Jesse had always thought completely defeated the point of drinking something that tasted like cherries, and he had never gotten even slightest buzz from it, because there wasn’t a booze on Earth strong enough to overcome his super-science-enhance metabolism, but he’d loved the flavor and thus the cemetery caretakers had acquired an encyclopedic collection of fine European lifewaters over the years. He left both the glass and the bottle sitting on the bench next to him.

“You remember how I told you last year that Ylva was pregnant out to here and we were all making bets on when she’d pop? Well, she didn’t make it two weeks past New Year and guess what? They finally did it. Gabriel Matthias Lindholm.” A smile curled one corner of his mouth. “I understand he’s already a precocious little troublemaker who escaped his bassinet Mission Impossible style before he was eight months old so your legacy is in good hands.”

Somebody wasn’t moving as quietly as they could have -- that was an unmistakably distinct scrape of boots on stone. Jesse reached down and unclipped his spurs, tucking them into a pocket.

“Lena finally stopped dodging long enough to actually get asked on a date -- they moved in together last month. And, yeah, it was the one Angie spent two years trying to set her up with. Two years. You’d think she’d have eventually given up but noooo.”

He unclipped a stun grenade from his belt, thumbed it over to maximum yield on the flash, minimum on the bang, and deactivated the micro electromagnetic pulse generator entirely, because he didn’t need even minor twitch issues with his arm right now. The yahoo -- or, more likely, yahoos -- dithering on just the other side of the alcove wall weren’t likely to dither for much longer and so he set the timer for fifteen seconds, boosted himself up the outside wall with just a slight gravity anchor assist, waited for them to round the corner, dropped into the alcove they had just vacated, and shielded his eyes. The detonation wasn’t quite as impressive as it would have been if he’d left everything cranked as high as it could go and, even so, it was more than sufficient for the purpose to which he’d put it -- the pair of would-be assailants, one big, the other bigger, staggering around the alcove in visibly disoriented anguish were wearing night vision gear. Jesse indulged in an infinitesimally tiny amount of pity for perhaps a tenth of a second before he introduced Big’s head to the edge of the alcove partition wall with force sufficient to break a few of the more delicate bones in his face and robbed Bigger of the remains of his senses and the free use of his jaw with a firmly to-the-point left. The echoes of the grenade’s sonic component were still propagating across the rolling fields of the cemetery as they hit the ground and if that didn’t poke a stick into the honor guard relief quarters and swish it around a few times, nothing would, and that gave him little time to work.

Big was carrying a heavy shock baton, one of the new school tasers hung heavy enough to work on an omnic or a cybernetically enhanced human, and a pepper-box muzzled sidearm whose ammo looked more like a reinforced hypodermic needle than a standard flechette. Bigger had one of those, too, and another baton, and a couple cylinders he knew for a fact were area-of-effect neurodisruption ordnance. “This is a goddamned cemetery. And it’s Christmas. You couldn’t wait for me to walk out?”

He tossed both the flechette guns and their extra ammo over the far wall, with the hope that they would meet their end under the wheels of a passing truck or at the very least not end up pointed at him. He slid both shock batons through his belt, the taser in the pocket not containing his spurs, and briefly considered the neurodisruptor grenades before the quiet hiss of static caught his attention. Bigger had a still-active comm in his ear and a bit of attention lent to it gave him the knowledge that his present companions were not alone (too much to ask for), there were at least six other teams of two positioned at strategic points (the entrances/exits, the major cross lanes), and two of them were being sent to investigate What the Hell That Was. Jesse cheerfully decided he knew what he was going to do with the neuro grenades.

The best and worst aspects of the Columbarium were one and the same. The pathways were wide and open, particularly the main thoroughfares running through the midline and up both sides, easily traversed when searching for a grave, obstruction-free fields of fire in the admittedly not planned for instance of the place turning into a combat zone. The niche walls themselves varied in altitude, from little more than waist high (good enough for cover in a pinch) to the overhead gate caps at least ten feet off the ground (perfect platforms for enfilading fire). Staying low yielded some advantages, but not enough. Jesse detached the night vision goggles from Bigger’s face and used the last of the charge in his gravity anchor to retake the high ground, hugging close to the outside wall as he put healthy distance between himself and the initial point of contact, scanning across the visible territory through the night vision goggles, careful not to look directly at any of the security lights.

There was the team he arbitrarily chose to call Dumbass One and Dumbass Two, approaching from the central memorial garden in staggered order. From what he could see, hunkered down in the shadow of one of the enormous memorial trees growing along the Columbarium perimeter, Dumbass One was carrying a flechette gun at the ready and Dumbass Two had a taser in hand, both had a baton, arguing for organization and standardized equipage, and yet no recognizable insignia. He swept the upper levels, found no one hanging out up top with him, or at the very least no one visible. He moved, quickly, because D1 and D2 were about to discover the present he’d left sitting on the trussed-with-their-own-MOLLE-webbing colleagues in Gabe’s alcove. The subsequent involuntary screaming was, indeed, music to his ears and also helped cover the largely unintentional noises he made jumping between outer wall and niche wall and then scrambling up to the top of the gate.

Something was going down at the far edge of the enclosure beyond the central garden -- he caught a flicker of movement between the walls, there and gone again before he could properly focus on it, a strangled, choked-off cry in the distance. Beyond that: headlights coming down one of the internal access roads, a hoverjeep no doubt carrying a team of honor guards off rotation coming to investigate the brouhaha, which officially made cutting and running the least morally defensible of his options -- if he hadn’t been there, neither would Dumbasses One through Twelve, and whoever was in that vehicle would be spending a long, boring winter’s night freezing their asses off or recovering from the same, not in danger of strolling into the middle of a fight with opponents armed to, at the very least, mess their central nervous systems up good and proper.

Fortunately, it looked like D1 and D2 had been the team assigned to cover the central garden, with its low enclosing wall and an exit into the rest of the cemetery on each side, and no one else had moved in yet to replace them. Or, if they had, that team hadn’t made it yet; he waited, tensely, feeling acutely exposed in his present perch while he watched for his most recent victims’ backup to arrive and received nothing for the effort. Whatever was going on at the far side had migrated to the east, close to the furthest gate; he could hear, just at the edge of range aided by the Columbarium’s accoustics, the faint thwipthwipthwipthwip of semiautomatic flechette fire. Running footsteps, approaching quickly, and he dropped flat against the top of the gate, watched arbitrarily assigned Dumbass Three and Four running down the narrow corridor between the outer wall of the Columbarium and the inner wall of the garden, foregoing the exit and sprinting almost directly towards him. He unclipped a second stun grenade and lobbed it as they came in range, flash and sonics both fully engaged, pulled off the goggles and covered up.

Dumbass Three was having trouble keeping on their feet, blind and deaf and off-balance after catching a face full of less-lethal ordnance. Dumbass Four was clinging helplessly to the edge of the garden wall. Jesse dropped off the side of the gate, landed in a roll, came up swinging with one of the shock batons, and caught D3 under the chin; the impact was almost disconcertingly satisfying as was the solid thud as they landed in a senseless heap. “Seriously. Christmas. In a cemetery. What is wrong with you people?”

D4 collected a sharp blow to the gut and folded, which he found somewhat surprising, before he realized they were already wounded, ballistic armor smeared with tacky blood and something long and thin jutting out of the shoulder joint. An arrow. An arrow that had cleanly pierced armor specifically designed to prevent just that eventuality. Of all the evening’s surprises that was, he decided, probably the most surprising thus far.

The distinctive pop of military standard-issue small arms fire joined the second round of echoes and the ongoing flechette thwipping and he filed armor-piercing arrows, provenance unknown under things to investigate once he was closer to the action. He took a moment to make certain D3 and D4 wouldn’t get back up without assistance and ducked into the garden corridor, keeping low and moving quickly. Up ahead, the sound of caps popping grew more frequent and more widely spread. On the far side of the cemetery, the Old Post Chapel’s belltower began sounding the hour in low pealing tolls and, beneath it, he heard the sharply echoing bark of a rifle firing, from above and behind.

🌟

“That may have been one of Jesse’s stun grenades,” Genji remarked in an undertone, as they crouched together in the deepest available pool of shadow, watching as armed and armored individuals took up station at strategic points throughout the cemetery.

A moment before, an intensely brilliant flash lit the far southern end of the Columbarium and a not insignificant portion of the sky above it; even as far away as they were, Hanzo was still blinking after-images out of his eyes after a single unwary glance. More worrisome were the echoes of the detonation, which would no doubt be audible for some distance. “I suspect, then, that he has made contact.”

“No doubt.” Once again, he could hear the smile in his brother’s voice and it was not a kindly one. “Shall we make the odds somewhat more even?”

“A moment.” Hanzo closed his eyes, pressed the tips of two fingers to his brow, and silently bespoke Zentatsu and Mizuchi, where they coiled within his flesh and soul, begging the aid of their clarity of vision. When he opened them again, it was as though the night had fled, replaced by a flat and shadowless stormlight that dispelled the advantage of darkness. He murmured his thanks and turned an unkind smile of his own in Genji’s direction. “Right or left?”

“Left.” Genji was up and over their concealing wall with a speed that exceeded even his own dragon-enhanced vision, little more than a flicker of motion briefly silhouetted against the sky.

He waited for the soft but unmistakable sounds of Genji introducing himself to the pair guarding the southern entrance before leaving the alcove himself, clinging close to the outer wall until he drew even with the next team, one to a side along the midline thoroughfare, crouched and waiting for something to come in their direction. Neither saw him, dressed to blend into the darkness and indistinct in a way that deceived the eye, even one equipped with night vision enhancements; he climbed the wall and slid forward on his belly to observe them at closer range. Ballistic armor, including what looked to be a military-grade helmet, night vision gear, communication equipment. Their sidearms looked too boxy for a silencer or flash suppression, and they were both carrying a baton of some kind. His curiosity itched, and he scratched it by firing a scatter arrow directly between them, flechettes radiating out from the point of impact in multiplying waves. The one closest to him fell with a howl of anguish, pinned to the ground; the further fell silently, with at least two slender shafts jutting from their throat. Hanzo dropped behind the howler and gave him peace and the world silence. He gathered up the gun and the baton and made good his escape before the running footsteps he heard approaching could reach his position, retreating to a spot atop the outside wall where he could both watch the pathways and examine his acquisitions.

The gun was a flechette pistol, which explained the boxy design, but the entire thing felt heavier than the weapons of that type with whom he was acquainted. He ejected the magazine and then a clip of the darts, found them to be substantially beyond standard, a projectile hypodermic flechette, reservoir filled with a clear liquid. He snapped a picture with his phone, making certain to catch the serial number engraved on the side of the dart, and sent it to Tekhartha Zenyatta, on station with their getaway vehicle. Tekhartha, please identify if possible.

The baton also modified -- weighted normally enough, sufficient to break unenhanced bone and pulverize unenhanced flesh, but also equipped with a shock generator heavy enough to overcome omnic, or cybernetically enhanced human, neuromechanical surge protection. He reached up and keyed the comm. “Genji, be careful. At least some of these creatures are armed with weapons that can harm you despite your armor.”

“Thank you, aniki.” Genji sounded slightly breathless and Hanzo glanced back in the direction he had come, concerned. “Be aware that our friends have brought more reinforcements than we originally suspected and also a team from Fort Myer has arrived to investigate.”

“Do you require my assistance?” Hanzo tucked the pistol into a jacket pocket and slid the baton into his belt, half-turning as he did so.

“No.” And now it sounded as though he were breathless with laughter. “I have the situation under control. Find Jesse -- if any proper soldiers reach him first, we may have to do something...regrettable.”

“As you wish.” He slipped his bow off his shoulder and nocked an arrow, arming the scattershot as he did so, and sped along the top of the outside wall as quickly as he could without compromising his balance. To his right, the midlane remained clear as he passed a second set of internal gates, to his left, something flickered in the corner of his eye, movement.

Hanzo stopped, spun, and snap-fired -- connecting, to his annoyance, with nothing. The arrow passed cleanly through empty air and came to rest somewhere amid the field of gravestones opposite the Columbarium and the access road running between. He remained in place for a moment, intensely still and watchful, waiting for whatever he had glimpsed to show itself.

Behind him, someone screamed. It was a brief, abortive, choked off thing followed shortly thereafter by a storm of semiautomatic flechette fire -- it sounded like more than one gun -- and running footsteps rapidly approaching his position. He nocked another arrow and waited, drawn to the ear, and loosed the instant the first target crossed into view. The arrow punched cleanly through the shoulder joint of their armor and they stumbled, half-falling and half-dragged by their partner as they both fled. A gust of something, a dark mist moving against the faint breeze, flowed down the midlane in pursuit and Hanzo followed as swiftly as he dared.

Ahead, the night dissolved into another intense burst of light, one he was spared by the grace of the dragons, and far more intense burst of sound -- loud enough to make his ears ring, even at a distance, not enough to affect his sense of balance. He leapt across the outside lane to the top of a niche wall, ran its length, and dropped into the midline, attempting to get a better look at what was going on up ahead. The garden wall was low enough to see over, barely, as he ran in that direction and he caught intermittent glimpses of a scuffle taking place before the gate that opened into the southern end of the Columbarium, someone ducking into the corridor passing the front wall of the garden, the muzzle-flash from atop the gate and the report of a single high-caliber gunshot.

Hanzo went over the garden wall even as the shooter dropped from the gate, its form slim and sleek and dark in a manner that suggested engineering rather than armor. He crossed the garden at a dead sprint, arrow already on the bowstring, and as he came through the gate, he fired point-blank at the shooter’s center of mass, once, twice, before he rolled out of the immediate line of fire, explosive heads that knocked it back and forced it to give up the shot it was about to take. Its target lay in the garden corridor, a pool of blood spreading across the paving stones, shuddering helplessly in a way that suggested a seizure in progress. He came back up over the wall, the last of his explosive arrows nocked, just in time to find the shooter regaining its feet -- an omnic most definitely, nothing purely human, even an armored human, would have shrugged off those hits that quickly -- reaching for a cylinder at its hip, hurling it at him. Hanzo fired to intercept it at the peak of its arc and dove flat; the neurodisruptor pulse spent itself on nothing as it triggered in midair and he rolled to his feet, reaching for a scatter arrow.

The shooter fled across the narrow court separating the garden wall from the gate, and regained its previous perch in a single prodigious leap. To his surprise, it did not turn back -- did not even attempt to do so, leaping to the top of the next niche wall and sprinting across the rows in long, loping strides. He watched until it vanished out of immediate view, dropping below the level of the walls, and then turned his attention to its target.

He was scruffier than the pictures in the file sent along with the contract information, his beard and hair longer and less tamed, but still recognizable as the man he had nearly been hired to kill. His upper left chest was a mass of blood-soaked cloak and shredded outer jacket, the wound itself concealed in layers of clothing, but the shooter had clearly not missed. And he was seizing, his muscles spasming convulsively, the tension half-lifting his back off the ground, face contorted with pain, desperate sounds that were almost words coming out of his mouth. Hanzo knelt at his side, caught his face between his hands, and, with an effort that he felt in his own flesh, Jesse McCree forced himself to meet his gaze and rasped out, “Arm.”

McCree’s left arm was a known cybernetic enhancement and at that moment it lay at his side, unmoving, fingers locked in an involuntarily contorted claw. He felt along the edge of the skull plate and found the switch concealed there, popped open the diagnostic panel, reading red across the board with multiple neuromechanical system failures, and pressed the emergency disengage switches in sequence. The joint sealed and locked, the arm itself disengaged with a series of audible metallic clicks, and the muscular convulsions slowed almost immediately, finally stopped entirely as Hanzo lifted him, gathered him around the chest, and bodily pulled him into the garden, behind the fountain basin. It wasn’t the best possible cover but it was still better than none and it allowed him to prop McCree up as he sliced away the blood-soaked over-cape and the heavy suede-and-fleece jacket beneath. With both gone, the blood flowed freely across the ballistic armor he wore under them, armor that had been broken from beneath by a high caliber, high velocity armor-piercing round that punched through it completely, taking a divot of flesh and bone and muscle the size of a large man’s fist with it. Hanzo saw, amid the mass of pulped flesh and shattered bone, strands of broken neuromechanical control wire, the feedback from which must have caused the seizure. McCree coughed, and wheezed, trying to draw enough breath to speak and another pulse of blood flowed out of the wound, frothed with air bubbles. Hanzo hit the disengage switches on the remaining shoulder joint and both side panels, lifted the armor away as gently as he could; the sounds that escaped his patient were completely involuntary.

Hanzo reached up and activated his comm. “Genji, I have him but he is badly injured. We are in the central garden.”

McCree’s throat worked silently for a moment as Hanzo opened the pouch in which he carried his own medical supplies, inadequate though they might be to this task, and began searching for something large enough to serve as a proper compression dressing. A little sound escaped him as Hanzo pressed one of the sleeves of his own jacket over the site and bound it as best he could with knots and a length of sterile bandage wrapped around to keep it in place.

“Genji?” He croaked.

“Yes.” Hanzo slipped out of his own coat and wrapped it around McCree as best he could -- the man was broader across both chest and shoulders than he, but he had no other means of warming him, and silently cursed the lack of an emergency blanket among his gear.

“Shimada.” It took all of his breath to properly aspirate the syllables and Hanzo pressed a hand to his chest.

“Yes.” Gently. “Be still. Save your strength and your breath. He will be here soon and we will...make certain you are properly cared for.”

He was in no way certain that was true. He knew, from many years of long experience, what a sucking chest wound looked like, suspected mordantly that the heavens would not favor making this one clean or uncomplicated, knew that the longer it took to bring him comprehensive medical attention the greater the chance of his death from shock or cardiorespiratory collapse. Knew also that saving this man’s life greatly exceeded his skills. He pressed close to his unwounded side, the best to share body heat, resting one hand against the curve of his throat to monitor his heart-rate (high, fast, with pain and adrenaline), watched the shape of his chest for signs of a collapsing lung.

McCree took three ragged breaths, in and out, and rasped, “Who?”

Hanzo glanced up, found dark eyes hugely dilated with pain fixed on his face. “Hanzo. At your service. Please, do not speak.”

He looked, for an instant, like he might try to argue that point -- and then his gaze shifted upwards, and his lips parted in a pained, more than slightly bloodstained smile. Genji landed almost precisely at his side, soundless and apparently none the worse for the evening’s exertions. “Jesse.”

“I just told him to save his breath,” Hanzo remarked, with some asperity.

“Heya...li’l brother,” McCree wheezed. “Long time...no see.”

“Perhaps I should save mine.” Hanzo flicked a glance over his shoulder. “Pursuit?”

“Napping.” Genji held up one of the flechette pistols with the tip of one finger, the gesture a thing of ineffable disdain. “Experimental sedation rounds -- the serial number you sent my master matches a lot stolen from a cargo hypertrain last month. I summoned assistance for the soldiers, at least, and my master should be here -- “

A sleek, nondescript sedan pulled up immediately opposite the garden entrance, the rear door cycled open, and the driver’s side window came down, Tekhartha Zenyatta peering owlishly out at them. “Please hurry. Another group of soldiers has been deployed and I suspect we should make good our departure before they arrive.”

Together they lifted and together they carried, McCree biting down on his gloved right hand to hold in any sounds of pain, and in such a way did Hanzo find himself sitting in the car they had stolen upon their arrival at Vishkar’s Washington DC telestation with a bloody cowboy propped against his chest. Fortunately, there was an emergency blanket in the vehicle’s First Aid case and, perhaps even more fortunately, the wrapper was large enough to lay over the worst part of the wound with enough whole flesh around it to tape it in place. One of Zenyatta’s spheres joined them in the back and hovered over McCree’s chest, shedding warm and soothing golden radiance as it did so. The desperate edge to McCree’s breathing eased somewhat, his head fell back against Hanzo’s shoulder, and his eyes flickered shut as exhaustion claimed his senses. Hanzo kept a hand wrapped around his wrist, fingers on the pulse-point. “Where can we take him?”

He could feel the helplessness in Genji’s gaze as he looked back at them. “I...do not know. If we take him to the hospital…” The thought trailed away into things that they both knew would happen. “I am going to message Lena for their ETA and then we can -- “

“My student,” Zenyatta was behind the wheel of the vehicle, carefully navigating them through Christmas Eve traffic. “Something is...happening.”

“Master?” Genji looked up from his phone, perplexity clear in his tone.

“Something is attempting -- “ A pause, a brief burst of sound that Hanzo was tempted to call a gasp. “Something has ejected me from the vehicle’s control systems.”

Hanzo’s hand flew to the manual door latch, only to find it locked. Genji swore, short and explosive, as he made a similar discovery, and all of Zenyatta’s spheres chimed a single high-pitched tone of alarm. Then, the vehicle’s onboard sound system activated itself, and the console navigation panel flickered, flashing a lurid electric purple overlaid with a stylized white skull icon, its nose an inverted heart; the voice that came over the speakers belonged to the vehicle’s GPS navigation system. “Whatever you do right now, do this one thing: do not panic.”

“Who are you?” Hanzo demanded, reaching up to steady McCree’s head where it rested, as the vehicle maneuvered through traffic at a rather higher rate of speed; a sign for hyperlane access sped past on the right.

“Consider me a contractor.” A warm little chuckle in the navigation system’s sexless contralto. “I’ve been hired by a not exactly neutral third party to make sure you and your cargo make a clean getaway and reach a place where you can hunker down in reasonable safety. So, if you want my advice -- and, I assure you, you want my advice -- don’t entertain any heroic foolishness for the next couple hours, sit back, and enjoy the ride. So long you make sure the dumbass vaquero doesn’t bleed to death or hack out a lung, we’ll be golden, and the rest will be up to you once you get where you’re going. Agreeable?”

“If it were not agreeable?” Genji growled.

“Oh, well, in that case,” The navigation system replied cheerfully, “I’d pulse some sonics through the vehicle’s entertainment system that would render you all unpleasantly senseless and you’d still go where I’m taking you, only you’d get there with a skullfucking headache and maybe a dead cowboy. Seriously, the speakers in this thing are incredible.” Hanzo felt one, just behind his back, vibrating at a decidedly threatening pitch. “Your pick.”

“Agreed,” Hanzo snapped, before Genji could intervene. “Where are you taking us?”

“I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you. Seriously...just relax, and make sure he doesn’t die. All I ask.”

The vehicle peeled off onto the hyperlane, headed west.

🌟

GreenCyborgNinjaDude: We have him but he is severely injured.

DeathFromAbove: HOW severely? We’ll be leaving for the airport in a minute, btw, might be without good service for a bit while Dad and I are on the road.

GreenCyborgNinjaDude: It would be best if my master describes it, he is monitoring Jesse’s condition.

PeaceLoveAndBalance has joined the conversation.

PeaceLoveAndBalance: Greetings and thank you for permitting me access.

ATHENA: You are entirely welcome, Tekhartha.

WickedCuteButDeadly: What’s the word? Winston, Em, and I are inbound and we’ve got one of those mobile life support pods loaded in the passenger compartment. Incidentally, I hope nobody’s carrying too much gear.

DeathFromAbove:...Weren’t those experimental?

PeanutButterIsLife: They’re significantly less experimental than they were. Tekhartha?

PeaceLoveAndBalance: Briefly, he was shot from behind by an individual using a sniper rifle, firing high caliber, high velocity ammunition. He was hit between and to the left of the first through third thoracic vertebrae, just above the upper edge of his ballistic armor. He has suffered significant injury to both the trapezus and pectoralis major muscle groups, the brachial nerve plexus including the neuromechanical attachments to his left arm, the left scapula, the left clavicle, the left acromioclavicular joint and ligament, the glenohumeral ligament, the second rib and costal cartilage, and the upper left lobe of his lung. He was respiring abnormally when we found him but has responded well to our efforts to treat that particular injury and his lung is not in danger of collapsing at this time. He has, however, lost a great deal of blood, which we have no means of replenishing, and he is still bleeding internally -- slowly, I can personally assure that much. But we are maintaining him in a state of shock, at best, and he requires more care than we can provide in our current circumstances.

WickedCuteButDeadly: I hear you. What’s your present position?

GreenCyborgNinjaDude: That...is an excellent question. We are not entirely certain ourselves.

WickedCuteButDeadly: What.

DeathFromAbove: I’m with Lena. What?

GreenCyborgNinjaDude: Our vehicle has sort of been hijacked.

WickedCuteButDeadly:...

DeathFromAbove:...

PeanutButterIsLife:...

ATHENA:..

DeathFromAbove: Explain this to me using small words and diagrams.

PeaceLoveAndBalance: As we were departing the Washington DC metropolitan area, an external force ejected me from our vehicle’s navigational systems and seized control. It was not...violent, per se, but it was extremely swift and thorough and brooked no resistance on my part. We have been proceeding under its control since.

GreenCyborgNinjaDude: We’re travelling through the mountains west of the city, heading south.

WickedCuteButDeadly:...

DeathFromAbove:...

PeanutButterIsLife:...

ATHENA:...

PeanutButterIsLife:...Are you saying that, in addition to everything else, you three have been KIDNAPPED? By parties unknown? Is that what you’re telling us?

GreenCyborgNinjaDude: Sort of? Whoever they are, they helped us get away -- in fact, they told us they were hired by an interested third party to make sure we got away and would reach a safe place for your arrival. Admittedly, we do not know where that is yet.

WickedCuteButDeadly: OKAY, THEN.

GreenCyborgNinjaDude: I am so sorry, Lena.

WickedCuteButDeadly: No no no, don’t be sorry. I made certain all the fuel tanks were loaded to capacity before we left and the backup solar cells are fully charged. Just...lemme know your final coordinates as soon as you’ve got them out and we’ll...figure things out from there!

DeathFromAbove: You are going to owe her all the booze, Genji. The GOOD stuff. And me. All of it.

GreenCyborgNinjaDude: I am poignantly aware of that, yes.

MercyMercyMe has joined the conversation.

MercyMercyMe: I’m sorry, everyone, I just woke up -- it has been a terribly busy last few days. What is going on?

🌟

In the front seat of the car, Genji uttered a sound that, even synthesized, could not be mistaken for anything but a moan of absolute despair. Zenyatta reached over and laid a comforting hand on his student’s shoulder; he leaned into the touch in a manner that suggested he had forgotten, for at least a moment, that they were not alone in the vehicle.

Hanzo declined to remind them, partly watching the scenery as it passed, mostly attending to his charge, who was drifting in and out of consciousness and occasionally making sounds that were almost words. McCree was, at the moment, still and silent and the view outside the window consisted entirely of dark, dense forest with occasional glimpses of overcast sky, the leading edge of a storm according to his phone’s weather app. Even more occasionally he caught a glimpse of ruddy light pollution staining the bottom of those clouds, though at present is was oppressively dark, the road lined in stands of enormous evergreens that screened the view as effectively as a wall. A glance at his phone showed him they were still heading generally southward, now tending somewhat more west; the road wended along the side of a heavily forested mountain, one of a dozen twisty lanes they had followed since leaving the hyperlane an hour before. They had, in fact, only remained on the high-speed, fully-automated-vehicles-only interstate long enough to put a hard burst of distance between themselves and the city and turned off as soon as pragmatically possible -- not the least, he suspected, because the hyperlanes were heavily monitored by law enforcement.

Their navigator had, in general, declined to explain their thinking, ignoring questions in general in favor of switching through a series of radio stations exclusively playing Christmas music and actively refusing them access to a newsfeed. Hanzo managed to find one on his phone, displaying luridly melodramatic streaming text suggesting that a left-wing domestic terrorist cell was clearly responsible for desecrating America’s most hallowed cemetery on the very eve of Christianity’s most important holiday, and he clicked it off, satisfied by the lack of immediate association with Jesse’s rather too notable name.

Jesse chuckled softly, the sound more cough than laughter.

“You should be resting,” Hanzo murmured against his ear, and slid the phone back into his jacket pocket.

“Ears...popped.” Several slow, shallow breaths. “Woke me up.”

They were, Hanzo had to admit, changing altitude, climbing higher into the mountains and, it seemed, slowing as they went, as though their unseen navigator were searching for something. They found it quarter of an hour later, the vehicle slowing almost to a stop, then turning off onto an unmarked side road that wended deeper into the forest and higher onto the hill. The antigrav generators whined in protest, the entire frame shuddered the incline steepened and in the headlights Hanzo could see that the road itself was entirely unpaved. Jesse’s body tensed with every jolt, and Hanzo held his arm and head as steady as he could; even so, by the time they reached their destination, he was soaked with pain-sweat and shivering uncontrollably, tiny, choked off sounds clawing their way up his throat.

“And we are here.” The navigation system informed them. “Wait just a moment annnd…”

In the forest ahead, lights appeared -- low-power security lamps, lining a path through the woods.

“Follow the path. Your destination is at the top. I’ve unlocked the doors and turned on the power. Once you’re inside, I’ll activate the security perimeter.” The door locks disengaged. “Rápidamente.”

It took some time and quite a bit of careful maneuvering to get Jesse out of Hanzo’s lap and into Zenyatta’s, the monk more than capable of holding him and floating at a decent clip despite their differences in size. Hanzo took the lead, bow in hand and at the ready, and Genji took rearguard, covering their tracks as snowflakes began drifting through the winter-bare canopy. It was, fortunately, not a far or strenuous climb, the path opening into a small clearing, the bulk of which was taken up by a compact two-story cabin. A light burned on the porch next to the door, and in the window athwart it; as promised, Hanzo found the door unlocked and a puff of air warmer than that outside greeted them as he opened it.

Hanzo resisted the impulse to ask his companions to wait outside while he scouted, choosing to err on the side of bringing Jesse into the relative warmth before he lapsed even more deeply into shock. There was not, in fact, much to scout: immediately inside the door, to the right, a kitchenette and dining nook, a security panel gleaming luridly purple against the far wall; to the left, a sitting room separated from the rest by a low counter, equipped with heavy wood-frame furniture, a flat-panel holotank mounted in the wall. Down a short hallway: a bedroom, equipped with two sets of bunk beds and a single cot; a bathroom, sink, toilet, shower; linen closet full of pillows and blankets sealed in plastic. A steep, narrow set of steps having more in common with a ladder than a staircase led upwards to the second floor, which was more of a storage space, stacked front to back with storage bins, their contents neatly stamped on the the visible end: provisions, cold weather gear, warm weather gear, small arms, ammunition, medical supplies…

Hanzo seized that one and dragged it to the top of the steps. “Genji, please assist me with this.”

His brother appeared and took one end of the case as Hanzo eased it down, then carried it into the bedroom, where he and Zenyatta had already transferred Jesse to the cot, propping him up against the rear wall with a half-dozen pillows behind him and at least two blankets thicker than reflective foil spread over his legs and chest. The lights were pale and mounted in the walls and showed all too clearly how terrible his color was under the dried streaks of blood, eyes closed and sunken into nearly bruised hollows of flesh, his chest heaving with the effort it took to breathe and fresh blood welling beneath the bandages. Zenyatta cracked open the medical supply case and began extracting useful items; Hanzo left him, and his able assistant, to the task of tending Jesse and prowled back into the kitchen, to the security monitor.

“The perimeter is armed and active.” The security system’s voice was close kin to the navigation system, though slightly deeper. “Write this code down.” He fetched a yellow legal pad and a miraculously functional pen from one of the kitchen drawers and scribbled down the alphanumeric sequence that crawled across the screen. “That’s the deactivation code, one-time use. Punch it in when your rescue crew arrives. Otherwise, don’t touch this panel unless I tell you to do so. And, just so you know, I drove the car off the side of the scenic overlook just up the way. You’re welcome. Thermostat controls are in the hallway but I suggest you let the heater work on its own curve, it’s running off the solar batteries in the attic. So are the lights. For the time being, you should make yourselves comfortable, let me keep an eye out for any pursuit, and get in touch with the rest of your friends. Not necessarily in that order.”

Hanzo, shivering slightly from the chill in the air and covered from neck to knees in the dried blood of a man he hadn’t actually tried to kill, could find very little to argue with in that.

🌟

A search of the kitchen cabinets yielded both a six-cup coffee maker and a teakettle, stirring within him the hope that, somewhere, there was tea to be had. It also yielded cups and bowls and plates, the sturdy microwavable ceramic sort, wrapped in plastic to keep away dust and mice -- not that there was much evidence of either, leading him to suspect that their unseen rescuer/captor/host made some effort to maintain the place on a regular basis. A trash receptacle and cleaning supplies hid in the cabinet beneath the sink; he opened the tap and was rewarded with water that ran clean almost immediately, which he used to fill the kettle. There was no proper oven, but the microwave mounted above the four-burner stovetop, and the stovetop itself, were high efficiency models clearly designed to play nicely with a house mostly powered by solar cells.

The provisions cases were stacked four deep and contained blocks of freeze-dried coffee, vacuum sealed packages of tea bags, assorted flavors of electrolyte-replenishing drink mix, and two dozen boxes of calorie-and-nutrient dense military surplus food sachets. A canvas sack hung on a hook at the top of the stairs and to it he added a package of tea and a box of snack sachets. The cold weather gear boxes contained an astonishing quantity of clothing vacuum sealed in plastic in a variety of sizes, each individual package containing, per its label, thermal underwear, two pairs of socks, fleece lined trousers, and a hooded sweatshirt. He selected one such package in a size that seemed a reasonable fit for himself and a second, two sizes larger, in the name of hope. Further to the back were the cases he hadn’t bothered with once he located the emergency medical supplies, and those consisted of more household goods. The cases labeled bathroom contained vacuum-wrapped towels and washcloths and hospital-grade toiletries, the sort one could use with or without water, and he added some of each to his bag.

He supplied the bathroom and paused outside the closed door of the bedroom, hesitant to interrupt. The worst of the muffled sounds of pain, of Tekhartha Zenyatta’s voice modulated to a low, soothing pitch, had faded away a quarter hour before but he did not wish to distract either the monk or his brother if they were in the midst of something dangerous, or delicate.

“Damn you.” Genji’s voice, even muted through the door, was fierce, taut with emotion. “Why did you not contact me? I would have come for you, I would have -- “

“I...know.” Softly, gently, and it silenced his brother more effectively than a shout. “I...know...you would’a. You’d hide me...in the middle of a place...full of unarmed pacifist monks.” Jesse made a sound somewhere between a cough and laugh; it was, he thought, one of the most terrible things he’d ever heard. “That’s not...taking cover, li’l brother. That’s...taking hostages.”

Hanzo made his way back to the kitchen, and turned on the heat beneath the kettle. The tea package, once unsealed, released a tolerable aroma; he placed a bag in two mugs, opened a vacuum-sealed washcloth, and ran water that began tepid and finally turned genuinely hot into the sink basin just as the kettle sang and his brother emerged into the sitting room. He applied the boiling water to the mugs and watched as Genji paced the close confines of the room, every inch of his body tightly drawn, gloved to the elbows in the drying blood of a man who called him little brother.

“Genji,” He put perhaps a bit more command in his voice than was, strictly speaking, necessary but it achieved the desired result -- his brother stopped and looked at him. “Come here.”

Genji hesitated, fractionally, then did as he was asked; Hanzo pulled out a chair for him, and went to work with the fresh cloth and the hot water and a bit of soap, scrubbing the blood from the joints of his hands and the surfaces of his armor.

“You do not have to do that,” Genji protested softly, but did not pull away, the tension in his shoulders and arms and wrists slowly loosening.

“Quiet.” Hanzo replied, also soft. “You must contact your friends. I retrieved our coordinates from my phone’s GPS system.” He dried his hands and handed the towel to Genji, slid the legal pad across the kitchen table. “Drink this.”

He set the steaming mug down at his brother’s elbow and Genji reached up, detached his faceplate for the first time since they left Nepal, and looked up at him with reddened eyes. “Is it any good?”

“It is completely awful.” Hanzo admitted, having taken a sip himself. “But it is warm.” He slid a thumb across his brother’s scarred cheek, wiping away the remnants of moisture. “Contact them. That will also help.”

And, so saying, he gathered his own vacuum sealed package of clothing and retreated to the bathroom, his eyes burning for no good reason he could name.

🌟

GreenCyborgNinjaDude: I have the coordinates, Lena.

GreenCyborgNinjaDude sent WickedCuteButDeadly a Private Message.

WickedCuteButDeadly: Okay, you’re...on the top of a mountain on the edge of Shenandoah National Park. Lemme see if I can get a good satellite overview…It’s a cabin? A little cabin? And there’s a clearing a bit over, just big enough to manage a VTOL landing and departure, I think.

DeathFromAbove: THINK or KNOW?

WickedCuteButDeadly: Know, know, it’s definitely know, trust me I’m a trained professional.

GreenCyborgNinjaDude: Message me when you begin your approach. There is an active security perimeter of some sort -- I do not know precisely what defenses might exist and I would prefer not to find out the hard way.

WickedCuteButDeadly: Jeez, what is it, a survivalist bunker? We’re about five hours out, should be getting there sixish local time. Also, since it’s past midnight there, official merry Christmas, Genji.

GreenCyborgNinjaDude: And to you, Lena. To all of you. And to answer your question...I am not sure? Our navigator brought us here, permitted us entry, and activated the perimeter. The storage space is full of military surplus supplies -- including medical supplies. My master managed to stabilize Jesse somewhat more completely but

MercyMercyMe: Tekhartha, are you monitoring and can you give me a more complete report?

PeaceLoveAndBalance: He is resting at the moment. When he is awake, he is still mentally acute and aware of his surroundings, but he is growing more frequently drowsy. Fortunately, there were large injury biotic-impregnated bandages, air-seal drape, and a decompression catheter in the emergency medical supplies, which has helped a great deal. I think he is in significantly less danger of developing tension pneumothorax.

MercyMercyMe: Sehr gut.

PeaceLoveAndBalance: ...Unfortunately, I suspect that he may have sustained internal injuries that are beyond my ability to detect or treat. We did not retrieve the bullet that struck him, because it overpenetrated significantly, but the force of the impact shattered the left clavicle and the second rib, and I fear that their fragments may have behaved in a manner similar to a fragmentation bullet. I suspect he is accumulating blood in the pleural cavity.

MercyMercyMe: Lena, if you can fly faster, you will wish to do so.

WickedCuteButDeadly: Headwind’s working against me right now, Angie, but I’ll punch it as hard as I can. We might be coasting into Gibraltar on the fumes.

MercyMercyMe: I will be leaving the Oasis within the hour, flying directly into Gibraltar International Airport.

ATHENA: I have activated your medbay access credentials and a vehicle will be awaiting you at the terminal, Dr. Ziegler.

MercyMercyMe: Danke schoen, Athena.

DeathFromAbove: Still getting my arrangements in order, but at least I’m in the airport. And, uh, not to distract us all from horrible things we can’t do anything about but...have any of you taken a look at the news? What did you lot DO?

GreenCyborgNinjaDude:...I feel as though I should defend my honor. What is the news saying?

DeathFromAbove has posted a link.

PeanutButterIsLife:....

MercyMercyMe:....

PeaceLoveAndBalance:....

WickedCuteButDeadly:....

ATHENA:...

GreenCyborgNinjaDude:...I assure you, I did not kill eighteen people on the grounds of Arlington National Cemetery, and I am fairly certain that neither did Jesse.

PeanutButterIsLife: What...happened to them? They look

MercyMercyMe: Withered. I have seen reports on this before.

GreenCyborgNinjaDude: The ones in black were with the shooter. Guarding the entrances and exits, patrolling the paths. They were carrying flechette pistols loaded with sedative needles and shock batons -- a few had neurodisruptor grenades. Less-lethal armaments that would allow them to slow or disable him. Hanzo engaged the actual assassin at relatively close range, an omnic sniper of a design he did not recognize, nor does he know personally of any omnic

DeathFromAbove: WAIT. WAIT ONE MINUTE.

WickedCuteButDeadly: Did you just say

MercyMercyMe: Hanzo. Your BROTHER. THAT Hanzo.

GreenCyborgNinjaDude:...This is a very long story.

🌟

Peeling off his bloodstained clothing had the immediate effect of making Hanzo feel more human. The shower, kept warm rather than hot, helped even more and had the additional salubrious effect of waking him up. His body very much wished to believe it was still in another time zone, likely on the opposite side of at least a few hours sleep, a weakness that his mind could not afford to indulge under the circumstances. The fresh clothing completed the process of renewal and he was privately astonished at how comfortable the underclothing was, sleek and close-fitting and soft against the skin, the charcoal gray pants and dark green sweatshirt a bit loose on his frame but warm nonetheless. He tied his still-damp hair back in a loose queue, hung the towels to dry, gathered up a few items he thought might be helpful, and stepped across the hall to the bedroom, knocking quietly and opening the door at Tekhartha Zenyatta’s quiet, “Come in.”

The monk hung in midair beside the cot, long-fingered hands laced together in his lap, spheres rotating slowly around his shoulders and chiming gently as they did so. In the bed, Jesse slept at what seemed to be peace, chest and shoulder swathed in bandages, each breath accompanied by a soft, high-pitched note from the decompression catheter. He was still a bit bloodier than Hanzo could imagine being comfortable.

“I have water and cloths,” He murmured. “If you think it would do no harm.”

“I think it would be a relief, when he next wakes.” Zenyatta bowed over his hands. “If you would be so kind.”

Hanzo fetched a basin of warm water, a dry towel, and a handful of fresh washcloths and set to work slowly and with care. It took a bit of scrubbing to get the worst of it out of his beard and hair and what was left of his chest hair -- they had sheared most of it away around the site of the wound to help the air-tight drape adhere more securely. The skin beneath was unhealthily sallow rather than the warm golden-brown of his files, for which he chose to blame the extremity of the blood loss, but at least his lips had backed away from the edge of cyanosis.

“Do you think he will…?” Hanzo asked, not quite sure how to phrase precisely what he wanted to know.

“Survive? It is...not impossible. Our friends are still some hours away and his wounds are grave -- but his will to live is also enormously strong.” Zenyatta replied quietly. “He has promised Genji that he will try.”

And this man would not break his word to a brother. Hanzo bowed himself out, taking the bath things with him, depositing the lot in the shower next to his bloody clothing.

Genji was still sitting at the kitchen table when Hanzo returned, this time with his head pillowed in his arms in a manner that suggested he had, recently, been banging it against a solid object. Possibly the table, in fact. He rested a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Genji? Is everything -- “

Genji wordlessly held up his phone; Hanzo accepted it and scanned the conversation still displayed. “Ah. Well. It was only a matter of time. In fact, it was only a matter of a few hours -- better they know before they arrive than have it be an unpleasant surprise once they are here.”

Genji lifted his head. “Who are you and what have you done with…” His voice trailed off and his eyes widened. “Hanzo. Where did you find that?”

He handed the phone back and glanced down the length of his own body. “One of the cases upstairs is full of vacuum-sealed bags of clothing -- I assumed it was military surplus, like the food. Why?”

His brother reached out and caught hold of his shirtsleeve, drawing his attention to the patch sewn to the shoulder. “Because that,” He replied, “is the organizational insignia of Blackwatch.” A complicated expression crossed the visible elements of his face. “This is...this must be...a Blackwatch safehouse.”

“How can you be -- “ Hanzo cut that question off before he could finish it; it was foolish, and fatuous, to question his brother’s experience in that regard. “Who could have known of this place’s existence? It has been maintained, possibly regularly resupplied.”

“I do not know -- Blackwatch functioned under...numerous layers of operational security. Its agents likewise.” Genji scrubbed a hand down his face, thoughts visibly racing. “When Overwatch disbanded, more than a few were arrested and prosecuted, even more turned to the mercenary trades -- I cannot think of anyone who would -- “ He trailed off again. “I do not know.”

“I am not certain that I -- “

The security panel sounded a rising-falling trill, and the visual display flashed luridly purple. When it spoke, it sounded remarkably human, and almost surprised. “Movement on the outer perimeter.”

They crossed to the display together, jostling one another’s shoulders as they crowded close. The inset screen flashed once more, then cleared, showing the layers of the perimeter monitoring, which fully encompassed the entire crown of the mountain: contact at the outermost edge, in the middle of the forest rather than closer to the road, and the security system voice made a sound that was almost a snort of annoyance. “Probably a deer. Or a bear. There are bears around here, right? I bet it’s -- “

The motion-activated optical scan cameras came online. The thing that crouched low in the leaf-mould was neither a deer nor a bear. Its shoulders and hips were canted at unnatural angles, its limbs abnormally thin and tipped in long fingers for tearing, long toes for gripping, its head a sleekly predatory mass of sensor modules mounted above a mandible that had more in common with an insect than a human attempt at a mouth. Its gun was not, as Hanzo had originally thought in the heat of the moment some hours before, a separate weapon, but mounted to its shoulder assembly. As they watched, it skittered past the camera into the dark.

“Well.” The security system remarked. “Not a bear.”

🌟

[naturecpw]

Naked Joe

By Bill Donahue · 3/26/2013

One hundred years ago, Joe Knowles stripped down to his jockstrap, said goodbye to civilization, and marched off into the woods to prove his survival skills. He was the reality star of his day. For eight weeks, rapt readers followed his adventures in the Boston Post. He returned home to a hero’s welcome.

That’s when things got interesting.

Knowles was a nightmarish roommate for McKeogh during their time in the cabin—a hog who deprived McKeogh of life’s simplest pleasures. The worst of it came one day when McKeogh walked to the village of Eustis, 12 miles away, bought himself an apple pie, and carried it all the way back to the cabin. McKeogh placed it on the windowsill, to keep it cool overnight. The next morning, he heard the scuffling of feet behind him. He turned to see someone swiping the pie and trundling it off into the wilderness.

It was Joe Knowles. He ate the whole thing.

Nobody in Boston knew about this, of course. When Knowles finally returned to town, the city fathers embraced him as an emblem of virtue and hope. On October 11, an august assemblage—“a host of New England physicians, sportsmen, and professional men,” as the Post described it—honored Knowles with a black-tie banquet at the Copley Plaza Hotel. The gala was calibrated, it seems, to preempt naysayers and to sound hurrahs for a proud and growing city that had just opened the Franklin Park Zoo and was building its first real skyscraper, the 16-story Custom House Tower. The Honorable William A. Morse presided as emcee, and Dr. Samuel W. McComb, a psychologist, spoke, noting that Christopher Columbus had, much like Knowles, faced doubt after discovering the New World. “The world is full of skeptics,” McComb said. “However, I think we may disregard them all.” Soon, Dudley Sargent, Harvard’s physical-education guru, rose and argued, improbably, that the 45-year-old Knowles was stronger than Harvard’s hardest football men. “With his legs alone,” Sargent marveled, “he lifted more than 1,000 pounds.”

A few days later, Knowles went on the vaudeville circuit. He worked on his book. And then, late in 1914, he made it to Hollywood, where in his one film he rode horseback through the ostensibly Canadian woods, over snowdrifts and across raging rivers, as he was chased (and falsely accused of murder) by Canada’s North West Mounted Police. His mission was to save a beautiful starlet.

Knowles tried to get more movie gigs after that. A circa-1915 publicity shot shows him pitching himself as a heartthrob. Sitting on some porch steps in a fringed buckskin suit, he stares pouty-faced at the camera, his dreamy eyes filled with pained long-ing. Perhaps he was shilling for his own screenplay, The Poacher, an undated drama that was, as he himself described it, “a story of outdoor life in the game country of the Canadian Northwest.” The screenplay lists Joe Knowles in the starring role.

Knowles’s movie career went nowhere. But in time, after settling on Washington state’s Long Beach Peninsula in 1917, he would reinvent himself and find celebrity once again, as the illustrator of schlocky, canned images celebrating the American West. Knowles’s drawings and paintings of Indians, shipwrecks, and animals were so popular that when his pet chipmunk, Mr. Peabody, died in 1939, the Oregonian ran an obituary. Knowles, the newspaper noted, habitually fed Mr. Peabody fresh green beans.

With humans, though, Knowles seems to have been less endearing. In his memoirs, he dismisses his working-class neighbors in Long Beach, saying, “The natives do not interest me. They do not understand me, but I understand them, and they do not know it.”

Joe Knowles died in 1942. All of the 200,000 people who gathered at North Station to greet him are now probably dead, too, and his book is available in only a few libraries. A biography of Knowles, Naked in the Woods, by Jim Motavalli, appeared in 2008, but on the whole, this common man’s hero has in death met a common man’s fate: He has been forgotten. Or almost.

Today the world’s most important repository of Joe Knowles material, arguably, is the Long Beach Peninsula Trading Post, a rambly antiques shop where, amid old postcards and license plates, there’s a little shrine to Knowles—a glass case displaying several of his etchings, as well as a few yellowing manila folders containing his memoirs.

Last fall, I traveled up to the Trading Post from my home in Oregon, a couple of hours away. I went as a pilgrim. In poring over the dusty troves of old news clippings, I’d developed a warm appreciation for Knowles. He was a dyspeptic coot and a hard drinker, I can’t deny that. He had no stage presence, and he was a liar. But by my lights he was still an American hero. He was like the Great Gatsby. He had chutzpah and grandiose ambitions, and in his own bumbling way he chased after his dreams.

I visited the Trading Post on a sunny Saturday morning, where, lounging on a couch, I leafed through the last musty remains of Joe Knowles. I read of a skirmish Knowles had late in life with an aging neighbor. In a long letter to his lawyer, he alleged that 65-year-old Hatty Harmon tried to poison him so as to take possession of his home, and called her an “old witch” and an “old harlot.” In his unpublished memoirs, under the heading “Passing Thoughts,” he set down what could be construed as his closing argument. “Life is a queer game,” he wrote. “Cheat a little here, bluff a little there, smile when it hurts, hide the truth, grab what you can while the grabbing is good, hold what you have. If you play the game according to these rules, you will win materially.”

Later, across the street, 94-year-old Adelle Beechey told me she remembered Knowles as a “free thinker.” During the Depression, she said, he bought a car, even though he owed money at the local grocery store, and then took some friends out for a drive. “His friends were nervous because, of course, he imbibed a bit,” she told me. “And when they came to a railroad crossing and found a train coming, Joe just kept driving. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘She’s fully covered by insurance.’”

In the end, I wanted to have my own moment with Joe Knowles, so I drove into the village of Ilwaco, parked my car, and walked down toward the beach. For the last two decades of his life, Knowles resided there, in what Motavalli calls a “crooked cabin made of driftwood.” But that cabin vanished long ago, and even the topography of the place has shifted. The bluffs and fishing rocks that Joe Knowles walked by every day are now mostly erased. So I just strolled alongside the ocean as beach-goers flew kites and built sandcastles nearby. The sun was still high in the sky. It felt warm and good on my back, and I watched as its slanting light played tricks on the water

Naked Joe

http://www.bostonmagazine.com/news/2013/03/26/naked-joe-knowles-nature-man-woods/

http://www.bostonmagazine.com/news/2013/03/26/naked-joe-knowles-nature-man-woods/2/

http://www.bostonmagazine.com/news/2013/03/26/naked-joe-knowles-nature-man-woods/3/

http://www.bostonmagazine.com/news/2013/03/26/naked-joe-knowles-nature-man-woods/4/

[chicagofoodaffair]

Tokyo, Japan

I am not sure why, but I had always been drawn to Japan. I originally went on a group tour around part of the country. Initially, I had the philosophy of only going somewhere once, unless I had already finished seeing all that I needed from the world. So far, this is the only place that I made that exception.

My first tour here ended in Tokyo, but I had only spent half a day here and had to leave first thing in the morning back home. Our hotel (Prince Park Tower Hotel or Tokyo Prince Hotel…I couldn’t remember the exact name) was near Tokyo Tower. We were not able to see as much as we wanted in that short period of time.

We booked this trip for a few reasons: It was my husband’s and my fifth anniversary together, and it was a collective birthday present for us (as we both have birthdays in April). Plus, my brother had always wanted to go during cherry blossom season.

Saturday, April 7, 2018 – Arrival

We arrived at Narita Airport on a VERY windy day (as in “first-time-getting-motion-sick-on-a-plane-type-of-windy.”) Clearing immigration and getting our bags didn’t take a lot of time. However, we were planning to get our Tokyo Rail passes at the visitors’ center, and by the time we finished with customs, the desk was closed (missed by 5 minutes, at 8:50pm). It was evening, we were tired, and I didn’t feel like figuring out the rail ticket machine. Besides, the last time I was here, the ride from the hotel to Narita wasn’t that much.

Boy was I wrong!

The charge for the taxi ride from Narita to Ginza, Tokyo, was upwards of $250!!!

Later, I was reminded that we had a shuttle from the hotel that we were at to Narita (oops).

Moral of the story here: Learn from my mistakes and do your research on transportation options before arrival.

Now that we have taken care of our PSA moment, on to the rest of the story!

We arrive at our hotel, Mitsui Garden Hotel Shiodome Italia-gai (2-14-24, Higashi-shimbashi, Minato-ku, Tokyo, 105-0021). It is minutes away from Ginza, Tokyo Tower, Zojo-ji Shrine and the Imperial Gardens. They also provided a free loaner smartphone that guests could use to make and receive calls, as well as for email, GPS and social media services. I mostly used it for GPS to navigate through the city.

We were also next door to a Lawson Station, one of the popular convenience stores – along with 7-Eleven – in the country. What was different about these convenience stores is that they carried more variety of foods, including hot food. It has been the locals’ favorite for fresh, convenient food. They are open 24 hours a day, which helps if a worker has an early 4am start or if they are just getting off of work at 10pm. Also, just like back here, there is one Lawsons’ or 7-Eleven on every other block (at least in Tokyo).

7-Eleven has their own set of ATMs, which I found to be the only ATM that worked for my Chase Card. The only downside is that the minimum amount available for withdrawal is 10,000 JPY (about 100 USD). This is important because not every place accepts credit cards. There are a good number of stores and restaurants that take cash only. This leads to PRO-tip #2: Bring cash.

Sunday, April 8, 2018: Tokyo Station, Sensoji Temple, Akihabara

So, our first stop was to acquire our rail passes (for clarity, the passes for me and my husband – my brother arrived earlier and received his already). Plus, it gave me an opportunity to test run the loaner phone from the hotel.

One of the Stores in Tokyo Station (Looks Familiar, Can’t Put My Finger on It…)

Once we had reached Tokyo Station, we were able to get our Rail Passes (yay!) The station has a number of restaurants in the lower level. Ramen Street is a stretch of restaurants in the basement level. Some will be traditional restaurants where they seat you and serve you. Others had a vending machine where you would put in the money, make a selection of what you want to eat and then it would print out the receipt for you to give your server or the cook. One such place was Rokurinsha on Ramen Street.

Dipping Ramen (with Tonkotsu)

Once we were fed, we continued on our trek. We started at Sensoji Temple (2 Chome-3-1 Asakusa, Taitō, Tokyo 111-0032, Japan). It was pretty crowded for a Sunday. It was a beautiful day though.

The Meiji Temple

The Main Gate

Nearby Street Market

We then hopped on the rail to Ueno and onto Ueno Onshi Park. We were on a mission to find cherry blossoms. I had heard that they had already bloomed, but there were some late bloomers around still. We were lucky to find some there!

Having a Picnic Under the Sakura Trees

We also wanted to look for a cat café. According to the GPS, there was one nearby: Neko Maru Café Ueno (7 Chome Ueno, Taitō, Tokyo 110-0005, Japan). There was a fee schedule, but the one we chose was 30 minutes for $6 USD. They had coffee and tea, as well as some snacks. They also had a few bookcases so you could sit and read while surrounded by the cats. If you want, they also had kitty toys to engage with the cats/kittens in house.

Welcome to the Kitty Cafe!

Cafe Menu and Helper

There are Enough Boxes for Every Kitty!

Shh! Do Not Disturb!

This is Part of their Elevated Cat Walk

Pretty Fur-Baby!

Beautiful Bengal

Next stop: Akihabara to check out the electronics district.

Inside the Sega Building – they have these types of games on the first 3 floors

These Remind me of the Slime blog-things in Dragon Quest

The streets were closed for the shoppers.

Proof of Life!

Interesting KitKat Variety

We noticed that some electronics were more expensive there than online. Only exception seemed to be those from Japan, and the prices seemed more fair.

After some shopping, we started back towards home for dinner and to sleep off some of the jetlag.

Salmon with Rice, Miso Soup, Pickles, Salt Cod Roe, and Egg

Monday, April 8, 2018: Mt Fuji

We went on a day tour through JAPANiCAN. Our first stop was the Mt Fuji 5th Station.

Unfortunately, we didn’t have as clear a view as we had hoped. It was also 1 degree below Centigrade when we were there, so just a little cold!

Mt. Fuji is Behind those Clouds Somewhere!

Next stop was at Oshino Hakkai. The snowmelt from Mt. Fuji formed several fresh water springs in the area. It’s also a cute little village where we were able to get another view of Mt. Fuji. The sun had come out and some of the clouds were starting to clear.

Mt. Fuji is starting to Peek Out thru the Cloud Cover!

There were some shops along the street – some selling food, others selling souvenirs.

These were very yummy BBQ Beef Skewers

Our next stop was Shiraito Falls. The falls are fed by the snowmelt from Mt. Fuji also. There were also a number of shops in the area, including soft serve ice cream.

Green Tea/Vanilla Mixed

Main Waterfall

Fujisan Hongu Sengen Taisha Shrine. The head shrine for Sengen and Asama shrines throughout Japan.

Shrine Entrance

The White Ties and Wooden Tags are All Wishes

Shrine’s Lagoon

A Much Clearer View!

Happy With the Sight!

On our way back, our tour guide informed us that Mt. Fuji can be clearly seen 60 to 65 days out of the year (so we were lucky!)

For dinner, we stopped by one of the restaurants nearby our hotel – Akami Yakiniku Horumondokoro Nikuman. (1-23-6 Hamamatsucho, Minato 105-0013, Tokyo Prefecture).

We were seated at the bar. Each table/seat had a mini grill and a vent right above it. We decided to share the Tonya place.

Since the meat is thinly sliced, it was cooked quickly.

With full stomachs after a full day, sleep came easy.

Tuesday, April 10, 2018: Tsukiji Fish Market, Namiyoke Inari Shrine, Hachiko Memorial Statue, Shibuya Crossing, Meiji Shrine, Ginza

Tsukiji Fish Market is a famous market located in Central Tokyo. It is the largest wholesale fish and seafood market in the world. As part of development for the upcoming Olympics in Tokyo 2020, the fish market is slated to be moved Toyosu, Kotu in the Fall of 2018. If you can get there anywhere from 3am to 5am, you can observe the tuna auction (we opted not to do that). If you do decide to go, it is highly recommended to wear rubber boots.

There is two parts of the market – the Inner Market, where wholesale vendors are located, and the Outer Market where people like us can purchase items in more manageable numbers.

Tea Vendor

We wanted to find one, if not two places to eat. So our first place was here (apologies, I’m not sure what it translates in English).

I felt like we were lucky because it wasn’t so crowded here, nor was there a line for us to wait in. As far as the food goes, I had once heard that “Fish should taste like the sea, and if it doesn’t, then it is no longer good.” The fish that we had here tasted exactly like the sea and I was extremely happy.

Traditionally Wasabi is In Between the Fish and the Rice (and they used FRESH Wasabi!)

After our sushi brunch, we continued walking through the market. Where a variety of items were up for sale as you can see here:

We came across another set of restaurants with long lines.

Apparently people lined up since opening to eat at these places.

After a few hours of walking and shopping, we decided to try another sushi place. This was located just outside the market, called Iwasa Sushi (6 Chome-27-3 Tsukiji, Chūō, Tokyo 104-0045, Japan). Incidentally it was highly rated on tripadvisor.com, so we wanted to see if it lived up to the hype. They have a set menu, and you basically choose between three or four different sets of sushi combinations. They only have seats at the sushi bar and they only accept cash.

Our Sushi Chefs

When we were done, I made a quick stop at Namiyoke Inari Shrine. Its name literally means “protection from waves.”

After that, we dropped off our purchases at the hotel and headed towards Shibuya.

Our first stop outside the Shibuya Station was the Hachiko Memorial. Hachiko was an Akita dog that was owned by Professor Ueno Hidesaburo from Tokyo Imperial University. Hachiko would meet Professor Ueno at Shibuya Station at the end of the day, and it became their routine. One day, Professor Ueno had a cerebral hemorrhage at the University, and never came home. However, Hachiko would go to the station every day for almost ten years. This statue is a symbol of the loyalty and love that Hachiko had for Ueno. Fun fact: Hachiko was present when the statue was unveiled.

There was a LONG line for taking pictures with the statue, so I improvised. The important thing was that I was there.

Now, there is a famous intersection near this statue that maybe the busiest intersection in the world: Shibuya Crossing. The lights turn red/green at the same time to control the pedestrian traffic. Even though there are crosswalks, when the light turns green, the intersection gets swarmed by people.

We crossed and survived (phew!)

We were walking through Shibuya in order to get to Meiji Shrine. In our walk, we encountered these:

For Those Who are Familiar with Sutadonya at Mitsuwa in Arlington Hts…

Stan Lee would Approve!

Meiji Shrine is a Shinto Shrine that is surrounded by a forest, and was built to honor Emperor Meiji and Empress Shoken.

Camphor Tree

After that, we went back to our hotel to freshen up a bit before dinner: Itamae Sushi, Ginza Corridor (J Bld.1F, 8-2-13, Ginza, Chuo, Tokyo, 104-0061, Japan).

The City Never Sleeps!

Our Sushi Chefs at Ita Mae Sushi

  Fresh Seafood Salad

Sushi!

Menu Said “Live Squid” but I think they meant “Raw Squid” with Wasabi vinagrette (it was still good!)

So far, the only critique that I had was that they used powdered wasabi (what can I say, I was spoiled from the fresh wasabi from earlier today). However, the taste made up for it. I would have to say that the first place we ate at today and Itamae Sushi were the better of the three places we ate today. Wednesday, April 11, 2018: Zojo-ji Shrine, Tokyo Tower, Departure

We had a half day left here in Tokyo. I decided to do a quick stop at Zojo-ji Shrine and Tokyo Tower before we left.  There is also a mausoleum where the most loyal samurai are buried as well.

If Zojo-ji Shrine looks familiar, its because it was in the movie “Wolverine” (2013)

And Here I Have Come Full Circle!

In case you were wondering what I was doing at all those shrines, it was because of this: my notebook filled with Goshuin, which are unique stamps/seals and calligraphy from the temples that I had visited. I had been introduced to this during my first visit here and acquired quite a collection!

Alas, our trip had come to an end, but our hearts are full with the memories that we had made. Thank you for reading, and I hope that this inspired you for your next adventure!

–Maeven

Resources:

Mitsui Garden Hotel Shiodome Italia-gai. 2-14-24, Higashi-shimbashi, Minato-ku, Tokyo, 105-0021 https://www.gardenhotels.co.jp/shiodome-italiagai/eng/

Lawson Station (various locations). http://lawson.jp/en/

7-Eleven (various locations). http://www.sej.co.jp/in/en.html

Tokyo Station http://www.tokyoinfo.com/en/

Rokurinsha. https://www.yelp.com/biz/YD4NquiK0mPR_WMse5KPOA?utm_campaign=www_business_share_popup&utm_medium=copy_link&utm_source=(direct) http://www.rokurinsha.com/ (Japanese)

Neko Maru Café Ueno. http://www.nekomarucafe.com/index.html

1-Day World Heritage Mt. Fuji Tour. https://www.japanican.com/en/tour/detail/BUS1J00711MKS/?typecd=TOU&destcd=V21&kw=golden&sbit=4&typegrpcd=TPA

Akami Yakiniku Horumondokoro Nikuman. 1-23-6 Hamamatsucho, Minato 105-0013, Tokyo Prefecture. https://www.tripadvisor.com/Restaurant_Review-g1066451-d6047847-Reviews-Akami_Yakiniku_Horumondokoro_Nikuman-Minato_Tokyo_Tokyo_Prefecture_Kanto.html

The Tsukiji Fish Market. 5 Chome-2-1 Tsukiji, Chūō, Tokyo 104-0045, Japan. http://www.tsukiji-market.or.jp/tukiji_e.htm

Hachiko Memorial Statue. 1 Chome-2 Dogenzaka, Shibuya, Tokyo 150-0043, Japan.

Hachiko. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hachik%C5%8D

Meiji Shrine. 1-1 Yoyogikamizonocho, Shibuya, Tokyo 151-8557, Japan. http://www.meijijingu.or.jp/english/your/1.html

Itamae Sushi. J Bld.1F, 8-2-13, Ginza, Chuo, Tokyo, 104-0061, Japan. http://itamae.co.jp/english/

Zojo-ji. ４丁目-7-35 Shibakoen, Minato, Tokyo 105-0011, Japan. https://www.zojoji.or.jp/en/

Tokyo Tower. 4 Chome-2-8 Shibakoen, Minato, Tokyo 105-0011, Japan. https://www.tokyotower.co.jp/en.html

Wanderlust Wednesday: Trip to the Land of the Rising Sun Tokyo, Japan I am not sure why, but I had always been drawn to Japan. I originally went on a group tour around part of the country.

[myspannycatworld-blog]

Paris’ Prologue 13: The Origin of Cassandra’s Powers

Canonical Version

Apollodorus Library 3.151 (c. 61/60 BC-2nd Century AD) : “Because Apollo wanted to sleep with [Cassandra], he promised to teach her to prophesy. Although she learned how, she did not sleep with him, so Apollo took away the power to be convincing from her prophecy.” {From Apollodorus’ Library and Hyginus’ Fabulae: Two Handbooks of Greek Mythology, translated by R. Scott Smith and Stephen M. Trzaskoma, published by Hackett Publishing 2007, p. 63.}

Hyginus Fabulae 93 (c. 2nd-3rd Century AD) : “Cassandra, the daughter of Priam and Hecuba, once fell asleep, they say, in the temple of Apollo after growing weary from play. Apollo wanted to ravish her, but she refused him access to her body. So he made it that no one believed her though she prophesied the truth.” {From Apollodorus’ Library and Hyginus’ Fabulae: Two Handbooks of Greek Mythology, translated by R. Scott Smith and Stephen M. Trzaskoma, published by Hackett Publishing 2007, p. 128.}

First Vatican Mythographer 177 (c. Late 9th-Mid 11th Century AD) : “Apollo loved Priam’s daughter Cassandra. She had intercourse with him on this condition: that he would grant her a knowledge of prophecy. When she promised him what he wanted, he granted her the knowledge of prophecy. Later, upset because he had given her the faculty of foreseeing in expectation of a promised sexual union, Apollo took away credence from her even though she spoke the truth.” {From The Vatican Mythographers, translated by Ronald E. Pepin, published by Fordham University Press 2008, p. 77.}

Second Vatican Mythographer 223 (c. 11th Century BC) : “Cassandra was the daughter of Priam, the Trojan king. Apollo granted her the faculty of prophecy. Deceived by her in his hope of intercourse, Apollo took away credence from her even though she spoke the truth. Thus, when Cassandra predicted that Troy would be destroyed because of the arrival of Helen, the Trojans did not believe her on account of Apollo’s command.” {From The Vatican Mythographers, translated by Ronald E. Pepin, published by Fordham University Press 2008, p. 186.}

Aeschylus Agamemnon 1202-1212 (c. 458 BC)

Cassandra: Apollo was the seer who set me to this work.

Chorus: Struck with some passion for you, and himself a god?

Cassandra: There was a time I blushed to speak about these things.

Chorus: True; they who prosper take on airs of vanity.

Cassandra: Yes, then; he wrestled with me, and he breathed delight.

Chorus: Did you come to the getting of children then, as people do?

Cassandra: I promised that to Loxias [Apollo], but I broke my word.

Chorus: Were you already ecstatic in the skills of God?

Cassandra: Yes; even then I read my city’s destinies.

Chorus: So Loxias’ wrath did you no harm? How could that be?

Cassandra: For this my trespass, none believed me ever again.”

{From The Complete Greek Tragedies Volume 1: Aeschylus, translated by Richmond Lattimore, published by University of Chicago Press 1992, p. 73}

Lycophron Alexandra 352-353 and 1454-1457 (c. 2nd Century BC): "Cassandra speaks]: I who spurned from my maiden bed the god Thoraios [Apollo], Lord of Ptoön, Ruler of the Seasons, as one who had taken eternal maidenhood for my portion to uttermost old age. ... For Lepsieus [Apollo] has taken credit from me, daubing with rumour of falsity my words and the true prophetic wisdom of my oracles, for that he was robbed of the bridal which he sought to win. Yet will he make my oracles true.” {From Callimachus: Hymns and Epigrams, Lycophron and Aratus, translated by A.W. Mair, published by Harvard University Press 1921, Retrieved from http://www.theoi.com/Text/LycophronAlexandra1.html}.

Servius Scholia on Virgil Aeneid 2.247 paraphrased (c. 400-420 AD): Apollo deprived Cassandra of the power of persuading men of the truth of her prophecies by spitting into her mouth. {Paraphrase from Footnotes to Apollodorus Library Volumes I-II, translated by J. G. Frazer, published by Harvard University Press 1921. Retrieved from http://www.theoi.com/Text/Ap3c.html#230}.

Alternative Version

Anticlides of Athens BNJ 140F17 as cited in Eustathius Scholiast on Iliad 7.44 (c. 2nd-1st Century AD): “The story goes that Helenos and Kasandra were twins born to Priam from Hecuba. When the infants had grown a little, it is said that they fell asleep in the temple of Thumbraian Apollo after playing there. Because they were drunk, they forgot about their children and went home. When they returned later to the temple they found their children’s senses being cleaned by the tongues of serpents. Because it seemed impossible, the women screamed. The serpents left and retreated into the laurel growing around, giving both children a share in prophetic power as they left. {From Three Accounts for the Prophetic Power of Helenos and Kassandra, translated by twitter correspondent @sentantiq, published by https://sententiaeantiquae.com/, 2016. Retrieved from https://sententiaeantiquae.com/2016/12/28/three-accounts-for-the-prophetic-power-of-helenos-and-kassandra/}.

John Tzetzes Introduction to Scholia on Lycophron Alexandra (c. mid 12th Century-1180 AD): “Priam, the son of Leukippê and Laomedon, fathered twin children with Hekabê, the daughter of Dumas or Kisseus, Kasandra and Helenos, whom they took to the shrine of Helian Apollo in Thumbraion where they made the sacrifices for the occasion of their birth. After they drank together and celebrated all day in the temple, by nightfall they returned to the city and the palace, secretly leaving their children behind them in the temple, something they did (as far as I can see) according to custom to discover this: so they might know from the events what kind of people their children would be. [In the same way, at any rate, had those people around Priam done this concerning what was fated]. When they approached the temple on the next day, they discovered two snakes watching over their children and [purifying their senses?]. but they were not harming them at all.” {From A Less Well-Known Start for Cassandra’s Prophetic Power, translated by twitter correspondent @sentantiq, published by https://sententiaeantiquae.com/, 2016. Retrieved from https://sententiaeantiquae.com/2016/03/18/a-less-well-known-start-for-cassandras-prophetic-power/}.

Scholiast on Homer Iliad 6.76a (unknown date): “The story goes that Helenos was Kasandra’s twin and that after they were born they were left in the Thumbraion temple of Apollo and that serpents cleaned their ears. [They] got prophetic power from that.”  {From Three Accounts for the Prophetic Power of Helenos and Kassandra, translated by twitter correspondent @sentantiq, published by https://sententiaeantiquae.com/, 2016. Retrieved from https://sententiaeantiquae.com/2016/12/28/three-accounts-for-the-prophetic-power-of-helenos-and-kassandra/}.

bT Scholiast on Homer Iliad 7.44-45 (unknown date): “They say that Helenos and Kasandra were twins and that they escaped from their parents one night and he slept in the temple of Thumbraion Apollo, while she slept in the temple of Artemis. At dawn they were discovered with clean ears.”  {From Three Accounts for the Prophetic Power of Helenos and Kassandra, translated by twitter correspondent @sentantiq, published by https://sententiaeantiquae.com/, 2016. Retrieved from https://sententiaeantiquae.com/2016/12/28/three-accounts-for-the-prophetic-power-of-helenos-and-kassandra/}.

Cassandra Becomes Aware of Paris

Ennius Incerta fragment 151a as cited in Cicero On Divination 1.66-67 (c. Early 2nd Century-169 BC): “Hecuba says to Cassandra: b why those flaming eyes, that sudden rage? And whither fled that sober modesty, till now so maidenly and yet so wise?’  And Cassandra answers: O mother, noblest of thy noble sex! I have been sent to utter prophecies: against my will Apollo drives me mad to revelation make of future ills. O virgins! Comrades of my youthful hours, my mission shames my father, best of men. O mother dear! great loathing for myself and grief for thee I feel. For thou hast borne to Priam goodly issue—saving me. ’Tis sad that unto thee the rest bring weal, I woe; that they obey, but I oppose. ... It comes! it comes! that bloody torch, in fire enwrapped, though hid from sight these many years! Bring aid, my countrymen, and quench its flames! 

It is not Cassandra who next speaks, but a god in human form: already, on the mighty deep is built a navy swift that hastes with swarms of woe. Its ships are drawing nigh with swelling sails. And bands of savage men will fill our shores.” {From Cicero On Old Age, On Friendship, On Divination, translated by D. A. Falconer, published by Harvard University Press, 1923, pp. 297, 299.}

Ennius Incerta fragment 151b as cited in Cicero On Divination 1.114 (c. Early 2nd Century-169 BC): “The frenzied soul sees the future long in advance, as Cassandra did in the following instance: Alas! Behold! Some mortal will decide a famous case between three goddesses: because of that decision there will come a Spartan woman, but a Fury too. {From Cicero On Old Age, On Friendship, On Divination, translated by D. A. Falconer, published by Harvard University Press, 1923, pp. 347.}

[manleycollins]

Journal Entry #21 - Happy Independence Day, Volunteer Life, and Community Service

JOURNAL ENTRY #21 Name: Manley M Collins Social Security Number:  5 7 9 - * * - 6 5 4 1 Date of Birth:  06/21 Place of Birth:  Washington, District of Columbia Country of Birth:  United States of America Date: July 31, 2017

TOPIC: Happy Independence Day, Volunteer Life, and Community Service DEPARTMENT: United States Department of Agriculture DEPARTMENT: United States Department of Labor DEPARTMENT: United States Department of Defense

Happy Independence Day to all United States of America citizens and upcoming citizens.  Thanks to all the servicemen and servicewomen who fulfilled and are fulfilling the tasks to help America keeps its freedom and independence AND promote democracy in other nations.  It has been an interesting journey doing food in a variety of ways.  I always had a volunteer life and community service life.  I spoke about it very little or it is on LinkedIn.  Since I do not have the money to donate, donating my time is the next best thing.  Let's start with month of July.

I enjoy the new life breathed into First Baptist Church of Washington, DC.  I enjoyed one of several social events across the city of Washington, which was the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception Summer Organ Recital Series 2017 plus BusBoys and Poets Brookland.  It was my first time at the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception.  It had wonderful designs per dome and beautiful storytelling per dome, stained glass windows, or exterior/interior columns. The Basilica has five masses starting as early as 5:15 AM and latest one 9:00 PM. The Basilica has The South Gallery Organ and The West Chancel Organ, both housing 9,393 pipes, from which 157 stops play 172 ranks.  The largest pipe of the south gallery, standing nearly 40 feet, weights close to 900 pounds, while its smallest pipe is no bigger than a simple pencil.  You would need a copy of the program to see all the names of the instrument or pipes…..I said ‘WOW!” to everything.

Position #32 - Capital Area Food Bank I started the month volunteering for a community event for 16 years and older on L St NW between First St and New Jersey Ave.  Two different communities (Asians and other minority groups).  The Asians must have been there since 3 AM.  CAFB was very hip to use keycards/keytags to keep track of households.  CAFB gives very fresh food.  I even had to sign up even though South Carolina informed me first how free food distribution works with the free lunch program and mom collecting can goods, the 12 inch block of government cheese, and white paper canned peanut butter; and New York provided additional education on how free food distribution works regarding its CSA programs. Illinois gets no credit for what it did.

Position #33 - Bread for the City It is very unique offerings. I only took advantage of the food distribution program. I attended a volunteer orientation session to start my volunteer relationship.  Great food distribution program, but wish there was more ready-to-eat type foods.

Position #34 - Central Union Mission This men only shelter is a unique group of people. The setup is great and offering all the type services, laundry, various improvement programs, bed/sleep distribution around 3pm daily, and security wand you down at the door. I am volunteered in helping with clean up of the shelter and serving dinner.  This is starting my volunteer relationship.  I think something is the food, but I am allergic to something maybe the meat since I have not ate certain meats after a long period time.  I love the cupcakes and cookies.  The full service meal is great...the serving of water became larger.  I enjoy seeing traveling organizations, radio stations, corporations, and other neighboring Virginia/DC churches serve as volunteer.

Position #35 - Martha's Table First, this organization seem small, but when I discovered it calendar and other services.  It is a large non-profit organization with plenty to offer for everyone.  The meals are unique.  it may be mish-mash, but you get all your needed nutrients.  I love the sandwiches, lemonade, trail mix, and fresh fruit for later.  I have started my volunteer relationship even though I have to book a month or two in advance.

Position #36 - S.O.M.E. (So Others Might Eat) I was first introduced to this organization through a member (Ken) of my church years ago around 2010, but did not know what the organization was.  In 2017, I heard they served breakfast and lunch.  All the shelters bus those who want a full course breakfast or lunch.  Families and women are more acceptable here.  A lot of male cliques are here. I took the time to volunteer.  I got the souvenir hat, a printed name tag, and wore an apron.  However, some crazies or angry people have done unusual outbursts to make Jerry Springer Live come true.  I have started my volunteer relationship.

Position #37 - Caviar Hannah and Caviar DC team has their hands full trying to service DC and Virginia. Everytime, it comes around to deliver for Caviar/Square, the weather just would not act right and I saw my schedule reliability rating went from 95% to 38%.  I kept wondering why I was not getting much orders.  The experience has been crazy. If you attempt to deliver while it is raining/storming on a bike, they will give you an address that do not exist. Also, they attempt to send you to pizza places that have enormous boxes you cannot fit anywhere.

Position #38 - Americorps/ByteBack This is my first experience with a nonprofit. The Americorps organization was formed by President Clinton and additionally funded by President Obama.  I like the commitment to community service and its initiatives, but it is a full time job to make the hours for a little bit of money and no benefits (benefits are offered through public services).  I was glad to run into the FEMA Americorps team at the Capital Area Food Bank community event. Also, picture attached. ByteBack offers classes to adult learners. The experience has been unique from 10 attendees dwindled down to 2 attendees. Or holding at 7 attendees and showing up once or twice a week missing some material, etc.  Byteback crew is great. I look forward to the new move from NE Brookland to NE NoMa.

Position #39 - UberEats This team I was able to discuss over the phone and online only. International calls were something very different. To join this organization, they made sure you get the rough patch. I remember delivering a cupcake from dupont circle all the way to glover park area.  The hills were a killer.  I remember one confrontation with Uber to get me to cross the bridge to Anacostia. Another confrontation with Uber was at 10:45 PM, a customer had a work address in, but discovered she wanted the food delivered Alexandria, VA on a bike.  Uber needs to address if they want deliveries like that please offer Uber cabs/taxis to get the UberEats driver there and back to DC.  Uber very interestingly tries to emulate the others, but I still can not believe how many trips I did for this company.  I did cover all four quadrants (NE, NW, SE, and SW) with this company.  George Washington University and Georgetown University seem to use this service quite a bit.  You have to get creative delivering McDonald's.  This is the only delivery company that said Happy Birthday to me.  When you join UberEats, just give them my invite code ManleyC23UE.  Just like the intelligence or Microsoft community called me ‘SharePoint’, the Washington, DC market and community are starting to call me ‘Uber’ or ‘UberEats’.

Position #40 - Grubhub This team with Patrick, and others, give a very unique experience.  Something always happened to my bike when working or going to work for this company.  It is very interesting the three (3) or four (4) California companies do not talk about you.  Seeing the large signage on Douglas Development HQ in downtown Dc was nice, but with the new system of merging WhenIWork and Grubhub app terminate all the drivers who may have changed their schedules or miss a block.  I chatted with Jordan Oates about this and he was able to reactivate the account.  You surprised me and gave me a Virginia trip, but when I am not on GPS, I took WMATA/metro and made the delivery.  When you join Grubhub, just give them my name as a referral.

Position #41 - Postmates Neil and this crew is hilarious. Postmates try to deliver everything. Soft drinks and ice cream, etc., and the driver has to be creative to deliver Wendy's.  This was my first company delivering soft drinks. During some trips, I had to substitute the drink for bottled water because I did not know how to do fountain drinks. One morning, I remember delivering two packs of paper from one office to next door office on the same block.  Howard University and NorthEast DC uses this service a lot.  Postmates did send me a warning of my 5 star rating to dropping below 4.7 star rating....slight suspicion or paranoia is the minorities seeing me a whole lot.  Using the PEX card is nice feeling in knowing there are commercial prepaid card. I even got a personalize PEX card right around my birthday.  The only annoyance is getting/photoing the receipts into the system/app.  When you join Postmates, just give them my name as a referral.

Position #42 - DoorDash This is a very creative service for flat rate, but short trips.  Posting a time when the order is delivered gives the driver a huge break and not have to rush to customer regardless if they say ASAP (as soon as possible).  The RedCard is a great experience and do not have to photo the receipt into the system.  I love the personalized texts.  The only downside is one trip per hour.  When you join DoorDash, just give them my name as a referral.

Position #43 - Metropolitan Police Department Guess what?! MPD disqualified me based on an old psychologist (about 73 years old) opinion.  I took the new written test (100% reading, 81.67% writing, and 56.52% video test). I did send an appeal to the deputy director and director.  The video test I guess for every option that says shoot with deadly force I guess I should have picked that option instead of providing customer service.

Position #44 - United States Capitol Police Since MPD disqualified me and I failed the video test, I moved on to United States Capitol Police.  I applied here before years ago via paper application.  Let's see what happens.  If I fail here, most likely I will continue to go through all the law enforcement and fire agencies.

Position #45 - United States Air Force Since MPD disqualified me and I failed the video test, I decided to accept Alabama as one of the possible states to go to for training.  In 1999-2000, I wanted to apply and had the application when I lived in Atlanta, Georgia.  In 2017, let's see what happens as I apply for every branch of the military, including reserve forces.

Position #46 - DC Government Just keeping me D*MN busy with CPR, AED, First Aid, Emergency Preparedness training and whatever else on SERVE DC as a volunteer.  Mayoral campaign, I started visiting the ANCs.  Every ANC so far has been different from zero (0) minutes (no meeting) to four (4) hours.