"Hai -- what would the customer like?"

Keisuke blinked up at the slender figure behind the counter. "Ara -- Takemiya-san? What are you doing here?"

The young woman with bobbed violet hair winked at him. "Bartending. Gotta pay those bills, you know. How about you?"

"Hanging about where I'm not wanted." Keisuke gave an exaggerated sigh. "Care to keep me company?"

" 'Pends. Are you ordering?"

"I'll go with a beer. As for the others, you'll have to ask them."

"Keisuke," said Tetsuya, "you know the lady?" Keisuke lifted his hands.

"My manners," he said. "Takemiya-san -- my VP Tetsuya, his girlfriend Hongou Yui, my sister Miaka and her fianc� Sukunami Taka, respectively. Minna -- Takemiya Yanagi-san of the National Library, Reference section, without whose invaluable bimonthly guidance I would be utterly lost."

"How cute," said Takemiya seriously. "He's finally realized my worth. Douzo yoroshiku onegai shimasu -- now, what's everyone having?"

"A screwdriver, please," said Tetsuya.

"Just mineral water."

"And Miaka-san?"

"Eh?" Miaka looked up distractedly. The incident in front of the club had unsettled her, though in a manner too diffuse to be properly called fear.

She was crazy, wasn't she? The obaasan?

"I've heard so much about you, you know. Would you like a drink?"

A drink. A drink-drink. She'd never actually ordered one before; wasn't even sure she was legal. Takemiya's lips twitched at her confused expression, and she leant in teasingly.

"Fianc�, huh?" she said. "When's the wedding?"

"Next month," Miaka stammered. Takemiya oh'd, her eyes deceptively innocent and wide.

"That soon?" She turned, pursing her mouth, and looked Taka up and down quite deliberately. Taka blushed slightly. "Lucky girl," she concluded. "He's quite a looker. Tell you what -- I'll whip up something special for you two, hmm? Just leave it to me." Gold hoop earrings swung and danced as she turned to snag bottles off the shelf, dispensing parts with military precision.

"I just know I'm going to be stuck with the bill for this," Keisuke muttered darkly. Tetsuya raised an eyebrow.

"You paying the round would be a change for once."

Keisuke's protest was aborted by the trill of his cell phone.

"Dammit--" He fished the gadget out of his jacket pocket. "Moshi moshi." Pause. "Kuwabara-san? Hai... iya... ano... " He caught Takemiya's eye and mouthed a silent 'anywhere quiet?' The bartender rolled her eyes and indicated the restroom-and-phones sign on a nearby wall. In the next moment Keisuke was gone.

Yui looked at Tetsuya, who shrugged.

"I think it's a girl," he said.

***

The disc glinted in its clear plastic casing as the man held it out.

"Everything the Database has on him up to the last listing," he said. "Think we're even, Saitoh."

Saitoh took the disc. The other settled his coat about his shoulders and turned toward the entrance of the alley. Two steps from the sidewalk he stopped.

"If you still hanker after access, you shouldn't have left operations," he said. "It puzzles me, my good man -- I didn't think you cared."

The lanky police officer exhaled smoke, a steady stream. "I don't care. But it concerns me."

"Right. Of course. The Himura boy and all that was your jurisdiction. Your... personal nemesis, hmm?"

"None of your business. Give my regards to the others." Saitoh smiled ironically. "Since they're probably aware of this already."

"Oy, oy." A wave. "Very well. Ja... Akela."

Saitoh didn't turn when the other man left. After ten minutes or so he ground the butt of his latest cigarette under his heel and walked out into the street -- the service road rather, since it was little more than a driveway -- that ran between numbered rows of warehouses. A single bulb illuminated the number over each door; the fenced yard was dark otherwise, and deserted. Saitoh had emerged from the unlit space between warehouses 15 and 16. He strode toward the gate, steps almost noiseless on the newly laid asphalt.

When he came abreast of warehouse 7 he stopped.

And snorted.

"Damn the man for the 'porter he is," he said aloud. "He's left me his dirty work."

Something massive and fast pounced at him from the shadows, but Saitoh was no longer there. The creature landed in a crouch where he'd stood. The light was enough for an observer to make out its general form, which vaguely resembled a bear or wolverine, but differentiating between scale and fur and leathery-skinned limbs -- far too many, like the brainchild of a deranged taxonomist -- was a good deal more difficult. Taloned feet rasped over the asphalt as it turned what passed for its face toward Saitoh, who smirked.

"Heh -- aren't you the pretty one. How was the trip in from the Makai?"

The creature snarled, showing a shark's mouthful of needle teeth, and launched itself at Saitoh. Saitoh sidestepped at vertiginous speed, rolled, and came up with his gun in a two-handed grip. As the creature twisted to accommodate the darting about of its prey, he pumped several rounds into it at chest-level.

Black fluid splattered over the ground. The creature howled, clutching at its torso -- and did not fall. Instead it hissed in fury and attacked him again. Saitoh dodged, retreating a fair distance from the immediate danger zone. Another look at his opponent determined that the gunshot wounds were already closing over.

"Yare yare. One of those, then."

The creature spat at him. Saitoh regarded it with distaste and replaced his gun in its holster. He re-settled his jacket, made a gesture with his left arm as if to flick off water -- and a foot-long knife appeared in his hand. It could have been up his sleeve, but it was difficult to tell. The jagged blade gleamed a wicked silver-white in the electric light.

The creature gathered itself and hissed. Saitoh crouched, knife at the ready, and the smile that spread over his predatory features was his opponent's match in savagery.

"Come," he said.

***

"Here -- we -- go!"

Miaka stared at the creamy-colorful-sugar-rimmed-fruit-garnished-double-strawed creation before her in astonishment and mounting delight.

"Taka, look -- it's just like a sundae!"

"Knew you'd like it!" Takemiya waggled one finger at her. "Anything you need -- just talk to Yanagi-neesan is all. You can come see me in the library too." And she winked again.

So, how about it? Tell Oniisan all your troubles...

Miaka caught her breath.

Takemiya seemed about to say something else, but just at that moment another customer hailed her from the other end of the bar, and she turned away.

"Hai, hai!"

Miaka stared after her, twisting her hands together in her lap. Takemiya's figure was feminine, she could tell -- had had enough experience nowadays -- even under the unisex black slacks and white dress shirt the bartender wore. Her wavy hair was short enough to show the nape of her neck. Now that the moment had passed, they didn't even look much alike to her.

And yet -- and yet...

"Miaka?"

She blinked her way back to Taka's smile.

"Penny for your thoughts," he said.

Miaka shook her head slowly, trying to order them into a sentence for Taka. Her eyes stole back to Takemiya. It should only disturb her -- this -- after all the strange things that had happened today to fill her with foreboding. And yet it did not.

She smiled.

"I don't know," she said. "I was -- I was just thinking that wonderful things happen. Even if we never get to understand why they do. So it's all right to just accept them when they come, isn't it?"

"Huh?" Taka's eyebrows went up. "That's... kind of deep, Miaka. You okay?"

"What's that supposed to mean!"

Yui leant over at her. "DJ Xing isn't going to show until midnight. We're going to hit the dance floor --" Tetsuya grinned -- "and I suggest you two do the same. Do you dance, Taka?"

"Some."

"Good." Yui's smile widened. "You can show Miaka."

And then all hell broke loose.

***

"I'd just like to state for the record that I don't feel a freakin' thing," Tasuki muttered.

Chichiri sighed. "You're not supposed to no da -- nothing's happening yet. Just keep your hands where they are and focus your ki on the pattern no da."

The fiery-haired bandit glanced down at the elaborate sand mandala, extending two meters in every direction from where they sat cross-legged on the floor of Suzaku's shrine. "You know what you're doing?"

"Absolutely not no da. Keep focussing."

The problem was that if things were normal, they would have no way of contacting Miaka. But the barrier between the worlds was weakening; Chichiri could feel its fragility simply by reaching out, whereas he'd never even been able to sense its presence previously. And apart from riding the fluctuations and bombarding each abnormality with mental calls -- well, it was the only way he could think of. Even if it was more seat-of-the-pants than he would like.

"Hang on no da -- there's a likely spot coming along --"

***

What happened first was that Yui's glance left Taka for a spot somewhat above Miaka's shoulder.

What happened next was that a polite male voice said from the same location, "Excuse me, but are you the Miko?"

Miaka turned.

The man standing behind her was middle-aged, and wore a wind-breaker over a business suit. He had a so-sorry-to-be-intruding smile on his face; he looked rather like her stepfather in fact, a middle manager for a department store. She looked into his eyes.

And the world halted again.

***

The distortion was too strong.

Chichiri gasped, fighting for control, and from somewhere outside of his personal battle he heard Tasuki bite back a curse. He wouldn't be able to hold it very long; they'd bitten off more than they could chew with this attempt. Desperately he reached out.

"Miaka!"

***

The world... the world was fading. The world wasn't real. How brittle it was, this agglomeration of laws and forces and energies; like dry, unbaked clay, like chaff in the wind. She could feel it. Behind the nightclub walls and the strobelights, the ornate walkways of Konan Palace where candles burnt like stars at midnight -- twisting and melding into each other until she couldn't tell them apart. It was ridiculous. Everything was so solid before. Everything was there. But now it didn't even matter. Not her friends. Not the man who was before her and then not and then both together, like an optical illusion she'd once been shown of two silhouettes and a flower vase. Not his hand which reached beneath his wind-breaker of a sudden, and the glint --

"Miaka! Watch out!"

Yui pulled her backward with brute force, and they tumbled off their stools and the two steps which kept the bar on a raised dais. The dagger sliced into the seat where Miaka had been, and the man snarled.

***

Tasuki's hands suddenly jerked away from their set position, smudging the sand.

"Miaka! Miaka's in danger!"

"What?" Chichiri nigh-on panicked. "Tasuki --"

"She's there! They're right there!" The bandit's voice rose until it was shrill. "Can't you see them? Can't you see them?"

***

"You -- !" Taka threw himself at Miaka's assailant, knocking him to the ground. The man twisted, bringing one knee up. Taka gasped but didn't let go.

"Miaka!" Yui shook her friend frantically. Miaka was dead weight in her arms, staring forward.

Two more vicious kicks and Taka had to roll, coming to his feet just as the man lunged at Miaka and Yui again. Tetsuya swung a barstool at him, and he dodged to one side. The dagger came down in a wicked circle -- at Tetsuya this time -- and as Tetsuya twisted to avoid the stroke the older man landed an upper cut which sent him flying. Yui choked back her scream.

"Miaka, snap out of it!"

"Tasuki..." Miaka whispered. Yui's eyes widened.

"What...?"

***

"I have to help them!"

"Chotto, Tasuki --" Chichiri would have panicked for real if he could afford it. He didn't know what Tasuki was seeing through the thin spot in the barrier, but he felt the weakness spreading, threatening to suck them both in.

"I have to save --"

"I can't hold it by myself!"

"Miaka --"

"Focus! Focus your ki no da!"

***

"Stay away from Miaka!"

Taka's first kick sent the dagger flying. He spun, lashed out again -- and the man blocked him with his arms, one foot sweeping out against Taka's unprotected leg. Taka grabbed the edge of the bar and flipped, landing on his feet. He launched himself at the man again, fists flying; a barrage of blows and parries ensued.

People were running now, and screaming. Yui gritted her teeth and slapped Miaka. Hard.

"Dammit, Miaka -- we're in danger! Taka's in danger!"

It seemed to work. Miaka stiffened, and her head turned.

"Yui-chan...?"

There were two rapid, sharp bangs.

Glass shattered.

And Yui screamed.

Taka jumped back, crouching in a protective kata before the two girls on the floor.

"My God!" someone was yelling. "He has a gun --"

The man had backed up against the bar, breathing hard. He held the handgun away from his body with both hands, the barrel pointed toward Taka; his arms were trembling.

"He wants to kill you right now," he said.

"Yui-chan!" Miaka scrambled to where the other girl was now sprawled on her side.

"Miaka, daijoubu ka?" Taka said shortly, not taking his eyes off the man.

"Y-yes, but --" Yui's breath was coming in quick pants, and she clutched at her shoulder. Miaka's eyes widened at the dark stain spreading beneath her friend's fingers. "Yui-chan's hurt!"

"I'm okay," Yui gasped. "Get out of here, Miaka --"

"Miaka!" Miaka turned her head and saw Keisuke, standing over Tetsuya's prone form as if unsure whether or not to break into their face-off. "Taka -- Yui! Who --"

The handgun jerked. "Tell him to stay where he is."

Keisuke froze.

"What do you want?" he said through gritted teeth. "Taka, I"m calling the police."

"If he can kill the Priestess here, it'll be over," the man said. His eyes flickered to Miaka. "You'll never assemble the Nine, and the Shadowless will win. So he'll kill her." The gun jerked again, and Miaka flinched.

"Wh...what?" she whispered.

The man stared at her for a long moment, and smiled. Not a sane smile: a smile that conjured up images of padded walls, and muscular women with needles. Taka made a minute sound of frustration.

"You don't know yet, do you? He finds that funny, so I'll tell you first. It's fated. He is Mukage, and you are the Nine." The man's voice rose into a sing-song. " 'The priestess who in scarlet clad, serves the undying bird' -- it's all written, see? -- 'The saving sword, the gold-eyed lord, the blood-red rose born twice'... He always kills them. I tell him not to but he always does. All those people, all the ones who know. Your red-haired friend too. He's here. Can't you see him?"

"Who the hell are you?" Taka demanded. "Kisama!"

The man shook his head slowly, still smiling.

"Answer me! Who are you?"

"I always tell him not to do it," the man said.

His finger tightened on the trigger.

Something came smashing down on his head.

There was a sound of breaking glass.

The man yelled, firing blindly. As he tried to turn someone chopped him hard on the side of the neck, and he slumped to the ground.

Takemiya stood behind him, panting, the neck of a broken bottle of Grand Chivas still clutched in one hand. As they stared, she relaxed and pressed her free hand to her cheek.

"He's out," she breathed. "Yokatta."

***

"Tasuki! Tasuki, for Suzaku's sake calm --"

The disturbance spun upon itself and disappeared. The barrier reasserted itself like the spiritual equivalent of a rubber sheet snapping back into place.

There was a silence.

"Daa..."

***

The twisted, half-burnt chunks strewn over the street could have been flesh -- once.

But then again, it was perhaps wiser not to inquire.

Saitoh stood in the middle of what a bird's-eye survey would have proclaimed to be a rather large splatter pattern, and lit himself a cigarette with his one free hand -- the other still being occupied by the hilt of his dagger. Inhale, slow exhale.

"An interesting night," he said aloud.

The electronic brring of a cell phone cut through the air.

"And not over, it seems..."

The device was eventually located in one of his coat pockets. Saitoh cradled it on his right shoulder, occupied in examining his blade's edge.

"Moshi moshi. Yes. Ah -- Masada-kun. Capital. Hmm...? Because I am making the assumption that there has been a sizable advance in the investigation, judging from the, shall we say, unworkmanlike hour of your call." The tip of the knife came down, darted at the nearest mass -- and the demonic remnants burst into black flame. Within a second the only visible trace left was a smear of grey ash. "No, it's entirely..." A pause. "What?"

"There's been a disturbance at a club, sir," Masada repeated, trying to repress the quiver of excitement in his voice. "I think we've got our man."

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