Unsafe Word Part 2

In the City in Between there's only one district which never sleeps. Here people, goods, and sin flow through the streets like a river. Endless opportunity for those who enjoy the finer things in life.

Tonight Shukisame wasn't the slayer of men—he was Shuki, a humble smuggler. A brilliant disguise if there ever was one, but still afforded him a good fight. What drew him out of Limbo was a job listing that both was too good to be true and was dangerous enough to interest him.

It took getting lost in a maze of bars, gambling dens, and brothels, but he eventually found the posting's origin: an ornamental building which shared the same description of golden mice and snakes. The Azure Lotus Apothecary. When he opened the door, some people barged past him.

"Watch'a looking at?" A tall, brutish-looking Blue Tribe Oni spat out as his entourage moved out.

Shukisame's hand moved to his weapon, murder flickering in his eyes. A dozen ways to kill this yokai flashed through his mind, each more satisfying than the last. But the posting... it promised something greater than this trivial street confrontation.

"Nothing worth my time," he finally said, storing the yokai's face in memory. There would be other opportunities.

"Tch. Thats what I thought." The Yokai and his entourage filtered out of the shop like an angry wave.

Once inside, Shukisame was hit with the fragrance of flowers, herbs, and everything in between. Beneath it all lingered something sweeter, more enticing—the faint trace of opium smoke clinging to the walls. A bizarre sort of chaos unfolded before him. Dozens of Small Mouse Spirits scurried about in near perfect harmony. Some wearing tiny aprons with pockets full of dried herbs, others balancing on each other's shoulders to reach high shelves. They worked with the focused industry of a beehive.

The Mouse Spirits froze in unison as they sensed his presence, dozens of tiny eyes assessing the newcomer before getting back into their rhythmic work. He passed a trio of mice rolling a jar twice their height, while others operated a miniature pulley system to deliver ingredients across the shop. Some nestled among rafters, sorting through colorful petals and dropping them into labeled jars below with surprising accuracy. Near a hearth, several mice tended to steaming kettles, their whiskers twitching as they tested aromas with expert noses.

"I see you've met the Yamori Brothers," a silky voice called from across the shop. Yamata no Mizuki emerged from behind a curtain of hanging plants, her lower serpentine half, scales shimmering like carved turquoise in the moonlight. Smoke curled from her painted lips as she spoke.

Shukisame's fingers twitched, the urge to hunt down the blue yokai still burning. "They won't be a problem."

Mizuki's eyes narrowed. "They won't be your problem. Not if you're here about the posting." She gestured toward the back room with her pipe. "The job requires discretion, not more bloodshed. At least... not yet."

The promise of eventual violence was enough to quiet the storm in his veins. For now.

"Follow me," she said, slithering through the workshop.

Shukisame trailed behind her, taking in the operation. Mizuki stopped occasionally, checking the work of her tiny staff. At one table, she paused, addressing a Mouse Spirit covered with iridescent powder.

"You're doing it wrong, dear," she said with surprising gentleness as she adjusted the tiny measuring spoon in the spirit's paws. "Just the right amount for everyone's benefit."

He followed her past swaying curtains of dried flowers—Lemongrass, Poppies, something unfamiliar. Shelves lined the walls, crowded with labeled jars, until they reached a lounging area. A desk with two chairs sat ahead, as if waiting for them. There, Yamata no Mizuki cleared some space and set down a pouch that jingled softly.

"I put out a request because the task at hand requires discretion. Your reputation precedes you. And the Azure Lotus requires the best." Yamata no Mizuki lied as easily as she breathed.

"What will I be carrying?" Shukisame sat at the edge of the plush chair.

"On a need-to-know basis. Think of it as a particularly delicate medicine. Mishandle it, and it loses its potency… or worse. But for your services, you'll receive half now. And in full once it arrives safely."

"Yeah. That's good and all. But what about the danger? I mean, this posting managed to make its way to Limbo. So it must be something real interesting."

Mizuki took a slow drag from her pipe, exhaling a delicate curl of smoke. "Risks? Of course. It wouldn't be worth your time otherwise."

Shukisame tilted his cone hat up slightly. "And those risks are…?"

She tapped the ash from her pipe, her expression unreadable. "Let's just say my usual couriers found themselves… indisposed."

"Indisposed?" Shukisame echoed, unimpressed.

Mizuki smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Unexpected guests have been snooping around. Making things difficult for me. Does it matter?"

"It does," Shukisame said. "A day without drawn steel is a day wasted. You just don't get it."

Mizuki's smile widened, calculating now. She tapped her pipe against a small dish, seeming to reassess the yokai before her. "Perhaps I misjudged you. In that case..."

Yamata no Mizuki nodded along, snapping her fingers as two Mice Spirits brought up an expensive looking silk box. She took it and slid it over the table.

She leaned forward, lowering her voice. "Better hurry along now. I had sent some of my Hellion associates ahead of you with a shipment similar as your own. The recipient might reward them first if you don't catch u-"

Crash. The walls of the Azure Lotus shook violently, sending loose petals fluttering down from the rafters. A sharp crack ran up the side of the doorway, nearly splitting one of the wooden beams. The mice spirits froze mid-motion, their ears folding.

Mizuki sighed, tapping out the last of her pipe's embers. "Right. That was the trouble I was talking about."

A second boom reverberated through the shop, and this time, a voice carried with it—muffled but distinct.

"The wicked will know no peace. THE WHEEL TURNS!"

Smack

Clasping his fist in palm in salute, "I, Shuki, will accept this task."

"Before you go." Mizuki flipped a nearby hourglass, sand beginning its measured descent. She formed her fingers into an intricate mudra, pipe still balanced between her knuckles, and began to chant. "Dispel the suffering that fills the world. Let vitality course through flesh and bone. Panacea."

From her painted lips came not words but a soft volume of smoke, thicker and more vibrant than her earlier exhalations. The vapor coiled and twisted of its own accord, taking the form of a white serpent that circled Shukisame once, twice, before striking. The serpentine mist constricted around him, flaring bright before vanishing.

Boom

"The odds are against you," she said, lowering her hands. "My healing enchantment will give you a chance. But don't think you're an Immortal. Even the strongest medicine has its limits."

Shukisame slipped the silk box inside his robes and entered the chaotic streets. The package felt unnaturally heavy against his chest. But the sounds of combat drawing closer stirred something primal within him. Whatever Mizuki was smuggling would have to wait. His hand moved instinctively for his katana as he followed the trail of destruction toward the source of the commotion.

As Shukisame departed, Mizuki let out a sigh, her serene expression hardening once he was out of sight. Another crash echoed from somewhere in the district. Closer this time.

Mizuki slithered to the window, parting the blinds with two delicate fingers. Her crimson eyes rolled at the commotion several blocks away. The Blue Oni Hellion Mobsters—her decoys—were currently scattered across the street, some unconscious, others fleeing. Standing amidst them was a lone figure draped in white robe.

Faisal. The zealot had taken her bait, but faster than she'd anticipated.

Her fingers absently tapped against the windowsill. Her plan was in motion—the Hellion Mobsters had served their purpose as sacrificial pawns, drawing Faisal's attention away. Now Shukisame, the wild card with the real package, had his opening.

Outside, Shukisame paused at the street corner. The commotion ahead had drawn a crowd—perfect cover. He adjusted the silk box inside his robes and began to weave through the onlookers when a blinding flash of azure light erupted from the center of the disturbance.

"See what awaits those who stray from the path!" Faisal's voice carried over the frightened murmurs and gawking of the crowd. The zealot stood amidst the fallen bodies of the Blue Oni Hellion Mobsters, white robes billowing despite the still air. Her blue skin glowed with an ethereal light, white hair floating around her face as if suspended in water. From her outstretched hands, pure blue fire poured forth in searing waves, hot enough that the cobblestones beneath her feet had begun to soften and warp.

"Your crimes against the innocent will not go unanswered," she declared, her voice resonating with righteous anger.

Shukisame's blood quickened at the sight. This was no ordinary street monk. This could be a worthy opponent.

He should have slipped away unnoticed—the package was his priority. But the burning urge to test himself against such power was too strong to ignore. Shukisame stepped forward, drawing his weapon with ease.

"You look strong," he called out, a predatory grin spreading behind his mask.

Faisal turned, her eyes—unnaturally bright against her azure skin—appraising the newcomer. "Judgement comes for all. Have you forgotten the weight of your sins?"

"Let's see if your judgement is faster than my blade," Shukisame replied, dropping into a fighting stance.

Faisal moved first, impossibly fast. The air around her rippled with heat as she thrust her palm forward, sending a concentrated jet of blue flame directly at Shukisame's chest. The swordsman vanished from sight, reappearing three paces to the left before the flame could touch him. The silk box pressed against his chest as he moved with supernatural speed, leaving only a blur in his wake.

"Too slow," he taunted, already circling around her.

Faisal considered her options. Rather than trying to match his speed, she pressed her palms together, then separated them slowly. Between her hands, a web of searing flame, expanding outward in all directions. "Speed matters little when swatting a fly."

Shukisame leapt high, using the side of a building to propel himself over the web of flames. He descended with his blade aimed at Faisal's shoulder, his movement a silver streak through the air. But Faisal had anticipated the opening gaps in her offensive. She pivoted, redirecting her fire upward in a concentrated column.

The swordsman twisted mid-air, his blade somehow passing through the flames without melting, though the heat was so intense his eyebrows almost singed away. Where his blade touched the fire, the edge glowed cherry-red.

"Your steel can't withstand the flames of karma," Faisal declared, her voice resonating with conviction as she gathered the azure fire between her palms. The air around her began to waver as if seen through water, the temperature rising to unbearable levels.

Shukisame chuckled, even as sweat poured down his face. "And your fire can't catch what it can't touch." He demonstrated with a burst of speed that left three afterimages in his wake, confounding Faisal's aim.

Faisal's expression darkened. Rather than chase his movements, she analyzed the pattern. "Then I shall cleanse the very ground you stand upon." She slammed her palms against the street, and a wave of blue fire erupted outward in all directions. The cobblestones nearest her began to liquefy, a circle of molten stone spreading outward. Spectators fled screaming as nearby vendor stalls ignited instantly, their flame-resistant awnings offering no more resistance than paper.

Shukisame found his mobility advantage suddenly compromised. The melting cobblestones limited his footwork, forcing him to concentrate on where he could safely step. Still, his superior speed allowed him to dance between the hazards, though each safe spot was quickly vanishing beneath Faisal's strategic assault.

"Your skills are wasted chasing ego," Faisal called out as they circled each other, the crowd having scattered to safer distances. Her blue skin seemed to absorb the ambient light, only to release it through the searing flames that danced around her body like living entities. She wove complex patterns with her hands, each gesture precise and calculated.

Shukisame laughed, the thrill of combat washing over him despite the danger. "And yours are wasted on preaching. You were born to fight, just as I was." He touched the silk box beneath his robes—a reminder of his actual mission—but the challenge before him was too tempting to abandon.

Faisal's expression hardened. "I fight to purify, not for pleasure." She raised both hands above her head, and the azure flames around her intensified, coalescing into a sphere of such concentrated heat that nearby windows began to crack from thermal stress.

From her window, Mizuki watched the two clash with clinical interest. Every strike, every parry revealed something about both fighters, information she could use. Faisal's righteous fury made her predictable in some ways, reckless in others. Shukisame's hunger for battle might make him forget his actual mission.

"Squeak-squeak?" One of the older Mouse Spirits approached, whiskers twitching nervously.

Mizuki understood the concern perfectly, as she did with all her contracted spirits. The tiny creature was asking if they should prepare to evacuate.

"No need for such dramatics." She glanced as a dust cloud kicked up as Shukisame and Faisal danced among deadly blows. "The Azure Lotus has weathered worse storms."

The Mouse Spirit squeaked again, more urgently this time, tiny paws pulling her kimono toward the street beyond where the duel continued to escalate.

"Yes, I see them," Mizuki murmured, her crimson eyes focused on the approaching shadows—more Hellion Mobsters, summoned by the commotion, moving like a tidal wave toward the battle. Exactly as she had anticipated. A calculated risk, but one that played perfectly into her hands.

She saw as Faisal launched another devastating azure blast. The time had come for her next move.

Mizuki's fingers darted diagonally across her peripheral vision in a well practiced motion. "Kaibo," she whispered. The air before her rippled, and an enormous black talon manifested—a spectral appendage torn directly from the Spirit World. It slashed through the space between buildings, aimed with surgical precision at Faisal's exposed back.

The zealot, attuned to spiritual energy, sensed the attack at the last possible moment. She twisted away, the talon missing her by mere inches, slicing through a vendor's awning instead before vanishing back to the Spirit World.

Mizuki's lips curled into a smile. The miss was inconsequential—the true purpose had been served. From her vantage point, she could see the street filling with new arrivals. And a smoke cloud forming where Shukisame had once been.

The sea of blue-skinned oni parted briefly as a small figure cut through their ranks. Hellions twice her size were sent flying, their bodies crashing into storefronts with bone-crunching force.

"You're obstructing an investigation! Get outta the way!" The human woman's voice cut through the chaos with authority that belied her stature. Mika Mori forced her way to the center of the conflict, running on the shoulders of brutes, frustration evident on her face. She'd been trailing a Fists of Aziz lieutenant through the Devil Moon when the commotion derailed her surveillance. Now her target was long gone, and this chaos threatened to spill beyond control.

Mika took position back-to-back with Faisal, her overseer badge glinting against her simple clothes. Unlike most of her colleagues, she wore no ceremonial uniform—just practical fighting attire and the distinctive leather straps wrapped tightly around her limbs.

Recognition flickered across Mika's face. "Miss Faisal is it? I thought you'd sworn off law enforcement entirely."

"Two against fifty hardly seems fair," Mika added, not facing her former colleague.

"It does not mean I've sworn off justice," Faisal replied, azure flames flickering around her hands. "The wicked find strength in numbers. The righteous need only conviction."

The Hellion Mobsters closed in, weapons drawn. Mika smiled—a predator's grin—and reached for the enchanted straps binding her forearms. With a flourish, she unclasped them one by one. The weighted bands fell to the ground with a heavy thud like a gong.

"Let's see how your conviction holds up," Mika said, her movements already becoming fluid, untethered. She rolled her shoulders, feeling the familiar rush as her muscles, trained under constant resistance, suddenly found themselves unrestrained.

The bravest of the gangsters stepped forward, kanabō raised in a menacing arc. Mika Mori dropped into a low stance, then shot forward with blinding speed. Her jab struck directly into his solar plexus, sending the yokai flying backward through his comrades like a cannonball.

The first wave of Hellions charged. Mika was a blur, her strikes landing with devastating precision. Where Faisal was fire and righteous fury, Mika was water—flowing between opponents, each movement chained perfectly into the next. No wasted motion, no hesitation. Just the pure, joyful brutality of combat she'd been craving.

A punch for every swipe. A dodge for every lunge. The mob's advantage in numbers meant nothing—each time they closed in, Faisal's flames made them dance on burning coals. The Hellions fell back in confusion, unused to opponents who moved without fear.

Mizuki observed with growing irritation as her shop's street became a battlefield. The destruction spread as Mika and Faisal proved a formidable team, more than a match for the mob enforcers. This had gone beyond a useful distraction—it was becoming a liability.

As the last of the mobsters fell to their combined might, Mizuki brought her hands together, fingers interlaced like prayer. Then slowly, deliberately, she parted them.

"Iriguchi," she whispered, knowing she was leaving evidence of her presence that any other contractor could sense. The spirit would remember, and others could compel it to reveal what it had witnessed today.

The street beneath Faisal and Mika suddenly split open, revealing an enormous mouth that manifested in the cobblestones. Before either fighter could react, the stone lips surged upward, swallowing them whole in a single grotesque gulp. The mouth closing with a sickening sound, then sinks back into the street, leaving only undisturbed stone behind.

Across the Devil Moon, in a damp alley far from the Azure Lotus, another massive mouth forms on a brick wall. It retches violently, vomiting out both Faisal and Mika in an undignified heap before disappearing.

Yamata no Mizuki had sent the two to be someone else's problem. The alley sat at one of the farthest edges of the Devil Moon, where the boundaries of Limbo grew thin. Even from here, the unmistakable sound of the Vaitarani River many tributaries could be heard—they were just a short journey from her rival's territory in the Canal District.

Shukisame was close. The brothel district lay just ahead, a maze of paper lanterns and perfumed doorways. Although when it came to brothels, he had a hard time differentiating one establishment from another.

But then he saw him. The Blue Oni from the Azure Lotus, pushing through the crowd with his entourage reduced to just two lackeys. His face was tight with fear, constantly glancing over his shoulders toward the commotion they'd fled. While his men had been left behind to face Faisal and Mika's wrath, the cowardly leader had slipped away at the first sign of real danger.

It wouldn't hurt to do a detour.

Shukisame adjusted his course, weaving through the crowd like a shadow. The Blue Oni never saw him coming. As they passed each other in the crowded street, Shukisame's blade flashed once—a silver arc too swift for mortal eyes.

He continued walking, never breaking stride, as behind him the Blue Oni froze mid-step. A perfect line appeared across the yokai's throat, followed by a fountain of scarlet that sprayed in a perfect arc. Only then did the body crumple to the ground, the yokai's lackeys staring in horror at their fallen leader.

Shukisame calmly wiped his blade on a silk cloth before resheathing it. The silk box containing Mizuki's "herbal remedy" remained secure within his robes, his actual mission undisturbed by this brief satisfaction.

He adjusted his conical hat and continued toward the drop-off point. Following the winding streets led him to an opulent building that one could almost mistake for a palace. Ladies with red sashes entertained all manner of guests in the front parlor, revelers moving in and out of the building in various states of inebriation.

One such courtesan approached him, her expression warm and welcoming as she reached for his arm. "Welcome, honored guest. May I offer you some—"

"The cherry blossom withers at midnight," Shukisame murmured to a courtesan whose smile faltered just for a moment before she nodded, beckoning him to follow.

She led him through a maze of corridors, past private rooms filled with laughter and music, until they reached an unmarked door at the end of a dimly lit hallway. Three quick knocks in succession, followed by two slower ones, and the door swung open. The courtesan not sparing him a second glance as he entered the lounge.

Inside the lavish room, Xana Redsilk lounged on a very expensive looking couch. Her cherry skin caught the lamplight, giving her an almost phosphorescent glow against the dark silks surrounding her. Four polished horns curved elegantly from her temples. Her robes—if they could be called that—draped across her form like liquid, cut low and arranged to reveal rather than conceal.

"Ah, the guest of honor arrives," she said, her voice carrying a melodic quality that seemed at odds with the sharpness of her smile. "I was beginning to think you'd been caught in Mizuki's little street theater."

Shukisame stepped forward, removing the silk box from within his robes. "Your package."

Xana sat up, suddenly alert despite her languid posture. "Wonderful." She extended her hand, trimmed nails gleaming like polished daggers in the low light. "Let me see."

He placed the box in her palm, watching as she ran her fingers over it with surprising reverence before opening it. Inside nestled a small vial containing an iridescent liquid that seemed to shift colors like mother-of-pearl in sunlight.

"Perfect," she breathed, lifting the vial. "Do you know what this is?"

"Our mutual friend called it a 'special sort of herbal remedy,'" Shukisame replied.

Xana laughed, low and velvety, the kind of sound that made men lean in without realizing it. "Trust Mizuki-chan to undersell her greatest creation. This," she held the vial up to the light where it shimmered with an unnatural glow, "is Indulgence."

"A drop grants euphoria beyond anything the mortal world can offer. Two drops and you can almost see into the spirit realm without leaving your body." She finally looked up at him, her smile widening. "Three drops... well, that's between me and my most exclusive clients."

She closed the box with a snap and reached for a heavy pouch on an end table beside her. "Your payment, as agreed."

Shukisame took the pouch, feeling the satisfying weight of gold within.

"Care to sample the merchandise?" Xana asked, her tone playful yet predatory. "On the house, of course. Just enough to make the night... memorable."

"I prefer my senses sharp," he replied, tucking away the payment.

Xana whined "Aww. Your loss. But should you change your mind..." She gestured around the opulent room. Her frown was already gone "You know where to find us. And we may have more work for someone with your particular talents."

Shukisame bowed slightly, then turned to leave.

"Oh, and Shuki," she called after him, using his alias with a knowing inflection that suggested she understood it was merely a disguise. "Our mutual friend is requesting that you don't kill any more of her business associates on your way out. 'Good help is so hard to find these days'."

He paused at the door, turning just enough to study her through narrowed eyes. "How did you know?"

Xana traced a finger along the rim of a tea bowl, her attention seemingly focused on the delicate crystal rather than him. "My business requires... awareness."

"Let's just say he served his purpose in her operation," she replied with a dismissive wave. "Though your method of removing him was rather more permanent than she'd planned. No matter. Mizuki sends her regards along with your payment. Consider it a bonus for prompt delivery."

Once the door slammed shut. Xana Redsilk spoke out loud. "You know, Mizuki-chan. It's not the end of the world if the Overseers get the message my dearest brother sent. That just means people will think twice before crossing us."

There was a rustle behind one of the ornate folding screens in the corner of the room. The panels shifted, and Yamata no Mizuki emerged gliding silently across the polished floor. The faint smell of herbs and incense clung to her silk robes.

"Forgive my foolishness. I acted hastily." Mizuki's usually cold demeanor softened slightly as she approached, her eyes meeting Xana's. "The Yahata woman... I thought they might serve as a convenient distraction. Perhaps draw attention away from Moros for a while. Maybe even rid one thorn off our side. But that Overseer was unexpected—they don't usually wander so brazenly."

Her voice carried a rare note of genuine concern as she added, "He's been too visible lately." With practiced grace, she poured the clear wine into Xana's cup first, then her own.

Xana leaned back on her couch, unsurprised by Mizuki's sudden appearance. "My brother can handle himself," she replied, examining the vial of Indulgence against the lamplight.

Mizuki nodded, but her painted lips remained pressed in a tight line. Only in this room, with the Redsilk siblings, did she permit herself such transparent worry.

And so, out in the streets of the Devil Moon, the night continued unimpeded. Paper lanterns swayed in the gentle breeze, casting flickering shadows across the walkways. Vendors called to passersby, offering exotic delights and forbidden pleasures. People wandered the streets, already forgetting the earlier mayhem. The district absorbed chaos as it always did—with a smile and a toast of sake.