Disclaimer: I own nothing, this is purely a fanfic for enjoyment.
Cross-over from various games, books, anime, manga, and movies.
The familiar characters you see here belong to their respected authors and owners.
"Speech"
Time*
Chapter 62: Problem? Kill it.
An hour later*
I let out a bored yawn after finishing today's offering to Amaterasu. Even got a side comment from the Sun Goddess herself about the quality of my choices, not that it makes a lick of difference. Still, I'm irritated: this cursed contract she forced on me is a constant nuisance.
Momoyo and I have been standing where the driver dropped us, waiting for someone from the mansion to pick us up. Time drifts by; the road stays empty, and no one has shown up. The sun hangs low enough to sting my eyes, the air smells faintly of cut grass and hot asphalt, and the mansion up the hill looks like an expensive silhouette in the heat haze.
"Wanna go behind those trees and have sex?" Momoyo asks out of the blue, as if the lack of transport were the obvious cue for impulsive thoughts.
"Not around here, who knows if we're being watched as we speak." I replied flatly, pulling a coin from my pocket, the one I've long used as a medium for Divination.
I breathed out slowly and poured Spirituality into the coin before flipping it into the air. The metallic spin shimmered with an unnatural gleam as I entered Cogitation. In an instant, images flooded my sight: countless perspectives of strangers, shadowed figures peering at Momoyo and me from impossible angles, each set of eyes fixed on us with invasive scrutiny.
I snapped my hand shut, pocketed the coin, and without missing a beat reached deeper into my jacket. My fingers brushed against the concealed Cards of Demoness and Red Priest to gain access to the Seifrot: City of Calamity, tugging just enough to draw forth two handguns, their polished weight slipping into my grip unnoticed by anyone else. To the outside world, they had simply appeared, hidden from plain view until now.
"Eh?" Momoyo blinked at me, her expression caught between amusement and disbelief, as though I'd just produced a rabbit out of a hat instead of loaded weapons.
I began firing into the areas where my Spirit Vision, strengthened by Superior Observation from Sequence 9: Marauder, had picked out the watchers. Shapes blurred into focus: people who'd been loitering with intent, hands full of valuable things, small bundles and glinting packs shifting as they moved. I let the guns talk; bullets hammered into the ground and bodies.
"Why didn't you say we were being watched?" Momoyo snapped, launching jagged balls of energy from her palms. Each orb punched through the air with a wet crack, detonating against shrub and shoulder alike.
"Honestly? Figured they were objects worth grabbing after waiting an hour," I said, voice flat as I picked my shots. I aimed for knees and wrists—precise, crippling hits so they couldn't run or draw weapons. The first man folded with a howl, the second went down with a useless hand clenching at a shattered wrist. Muzzle smoke and the metallic tang of blood hung in the air; papers and coins skittered across the road where my bullets punched into pavement.
"STOP! STO—GAH!" Someone screamed, clutching at a shoulder I'd already nicked. The cry ripped through the thin heat haze like a bad radio signal.
"Oh, hold up, Momoyo. They finally want to talk." I cut off the firing, not because the plea persuaded me, but because both handguns had run out of bullets. My hands moved with the same lazy economy as always: I yanked fresh magazines from the seams of my jacket, flicked them out, and the new rounds slid into the guns with a satisfying clack. The emptied mags fell to the pavement; I moved my boots on them and ground them underfoot until the metal rattled quietly, then opened a small portal created by the Cards of Blasphemy appearing near my foot just enough to send the spent magazines slipping back into the City of Calamity.
You can't leave things touched by a Seifrot lying around. Anything the Sefirot marks has to remain under my control, no loose evidence, no stray contaminated objects that someone else could touch.
Momoyo's eyes tracked my hands, then the men on the ground. She let out a low whistle, half amused and half impressed, like she'd expected nothing less. Around us, coins and scraps of paper fluttered in the dust; one of the watchers tried to crawl, only to be stopped by a sudden, careful kick to the ribs from Momoyo.
"Stay still." Momoyo said coldly, then fixed the man who'd shouted with a look. "And you. Go tell your boss we're leaving. No point sticking around when it's already shown we're not welcome." She hooked her arm through mine and dragged me away. "Honestly, we should've left way earlier."
"That's true." I gave the injured men a brief, uninterested glance while sliding the handguns back into the hidden folds of my jacket, sending them back into the City of Calamity. "So, where to? Once we're far enough, I can get us a ride." I grinned; Momoyo returned it with one of her own, sharp and easy.
"Anywhere but here." Momoyo smirks.
When we'd put enough distance between ourselves and the road, and after checking that no stray eyes were watching, the Cards of Demoness and Red Priest projected a large sphere. The Yamaha VMAX rolled out of the City of Calamity like a sleeping beast called awake. The bike thrummed, its chrome dulled by a corrosive Sefirot aura, a few cruel spikes grafted to the front like teeth. It wasn't built for safety; it was built to move and maim, to wear menace as armor.
Momoyo swung a leg over the seat with the easy confidence of someone used to danger. I slid up behind her, feeling the bike's low, hungry vibration through my shoes. The road ahead smelled of hot tar and old money; the mansion receded into a perfect silhouette behind us. We grin at each other and ride away from here.
Hours later*
"You know, I think we should stay somewhere else." I said to Momoyo, my eyes lingering on the Amulet I'd obtained from tonight's adventuring. Its surface glinted faintly in the streetlight.
"Why do you say that, Chikao?" Momoyo tilted her head, leaning lazily against my corrupted motorcycle as if it were just another bench, a milkshake balanced easily in her hand. The casualness of it all, her calm demeanor against the machine's menacing aura, almost made me laugh.
"Because I'd rather not sit through one of your grandfather's lectures about how rude we were for harming those men back at the mansion." I explained, rubbing a thumb over the Amulet's ridged edge.
Momoyo gave a soft snort, sipping from her straw, her eyes still on me. The sweetness of her milkshake contrasted sharply with the bitterness in my words.
Tonight's adventuring wasn't the best compared to the ones I've gone through in the past. Still, it's not like I should be complaining. I have free access to stuff that most Beyonders would kill to even have the slight chance of obtaining, risking their life if needed.
Unlike Charms, Amulets do not require an activation incantation and are designed for long-term, non-combatant, passive effects. Additionally, it can be created through Ritualistic Magic, utilizing Spirituality to inscribe the incantations and symbols of the corresponding Domains into the corresponding materials.
The one I have is from the Abyss Pathway's Sequence 7: Serial Killer. With this Amulet, the carrier can twist the unseen threads, effectively disrupting Divination and clouding Spirit Channeling.
It would be a treasure for many, but not for me. I already have better ways of deflecting Divination. Besides, this Amulet is useless once the Fates decide to focus their gaze; unable to deal with the inevitable. Maybe I'll pass it along to Mai or Osaragi. Still, if I do, Momoyo will almost certainly get jealous. It's best to avoid that headache, no matter how hot I find Momoyo being jealous; it's still a headache later on.
Either I craft an Amulet of my own for her, or I hand this one over to her.
Who am I kidding? It's best to make one instead. Something tailored to Momoyo specifically. That way, it's hers alone, and not a hand-me-down with bloody fingerprints.
With that settled, I slid the Amulet of Sequence 7: Serial Killer into the Card of Abyss to be stored away for the time being. Honestly, couldn't come up with a name for it, but not in the mood to do so. Maybe later on, if I remember.
"How about a love hotel?" Momoyo grinned from behind her milkshake, taking a slow sip, her eyes glinting with mischief. "It's not like we're going to be sleeping the entire night, right?"
"Pretty sure your grandfather would track us there immediately." I replied dully.
"Tch. Fine." Momoyo rolled her eyes, swirling the straw around in her cup. "Then where do you think we should stay for the night?"
"How about we ask the ones who've been following us this entire time?" I said, turning my head to the right.
Momoyo followed my gaze, her scowl deepening. She set her milkshake down on the motorcycle and pushed herself upright, tension rolling off her shoulders.
"No need to be hostile." A woman's voice drifted from the shadows. The figure stepped slowly into the pale glow of the streetlight.
She was tall and striking, her voluptuous figure accentuated by the cut of her attire. Long blonde hair down to her waist. Her golden-yellow eyes gleamed with a predatory glint, the pupils slitted like a beast's. Draped in a purple kimono and crowned with a fur coat over her shoulders, she radiated both allure and danger.
"Eh? Lady Ryoko?" Momoyo blinked, shock flashing across her features before narrowing into anger. Her lips twisted into another scowl. "You've got some nerve showing up in front of us."
"Oh, come now, little Momoyo. If it had been up to me, I'd have appeared in person back there to welcome you two, like I'm doing now. But alas, you know what my mother is like." Ryoko placed a delicate hand against her cheek, smiling with practiced sweetness. "She's simply too moody to show herself without your grandfather present. Consider this her way of sulking. Let's just say, mother dearest is having a moment of regret for leaving you two waiting so long. And as for your little lover boy…" Her golden eyes flicked toward me, a sly gleam in them. "Nice shots, by the way." She punctuated the remark with a playful wink.
That wink made Momoyo bristle instantly. She moved in front of me without hesitation, her stance protective, eyes narrowed as if Ryoko had just declared open war.
"Now, now, Momoyo." Ryoko chuckled lightly, fluttering her hand in the air as though batting away a fly. "I'm a married woman."
"So, why decide to show up now, instead of letting us wander around on our own for a while?" I asked Ryoko, lifting an eyebrow at the married woman and surveying the dark edges of the street. "And keeping your guards in the shadows? Planning an ambush?"
Momoyo's eyes flicked along the tree line and the gutters, then snapped back to Ryoko, hard and unreadable.
"Oh, please." Ryoko said, tilting her head and letting the streetlight catch in her hair. She stepped a little closer, but not so close that it felt threatening, more like someone practicing the art of invasion by charm. "I'm just a single woman out here, unarmed and defenseless. Wouldn't want any predator men taking advantage of me if I didn't have my—" She glanced toward the darkness where silhouettes shifted. "Escorts." A soft, deliberate giggle followed. "Don't worry. They're here for my protection and nothing else."
I am tempted to use Divination to check if she is lying or just outright kill all of them. Damn, I really got to reel in my urge to kill all my problems away.