Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“O-Okay… I just need to stay calm… and not knock anything over…” Dido whispered to herself, as she approached Trieste’s “pizzeria.” 

As with most gangs in the city, the Sardegna Empire had various storefronts used to disguise their business and raise money for their operations in a perfectly legal manner.

In this specific situation, Dido had been tasked by Queen Elizabeth to pick up an order of pizzas the small battleship had requested about two hours ago. This had come as a result of every other member of the Royal Maids, with Belfast having been the last to go, apparently having some “very important” information to dispatch to Officer Enterprise. She’d winked while explaining that last bit, but Dido couldn’t fully understand what it meant.

It was all very confusing.

Now you see, Dido had a bit of a habit. She was rather clumsy, and often found herself knocking things over. Unfortunately, most of the time, this led to the destruction of one or more immensely expensive items. This was, in fact, also the reason she’d now lost the right to drive any of the faction’s vehicles. Or any vehicles, actually.

Hence why she was walking here.

“I-I’m sure… it’ll all be fine…!”

The sound of a bell ringing echoed throughout the bustling pizzeria as Dido entered, drawing the eyes of a few patrons as she walked up to the desk, lightly tapping one of the bells to signify a need for service.

“I’m coming. Just give me a few minutes!” A familiar voice rang out from the back of the kitchen, as a magenta-haired kansen walked out in the proceeding three minutes.

This was Trieste, the owner of the pizzeria. Unfortunately, she was all too familiar with Dido. On account of the fact that Dido was responsible for the completely accidental destruction of Trieste’s previous twelve establishments.

They had a history.

“Oh… It’s you… what do you want?”

“Um… I’m here to pick up Queen Elizabeth’s order of… 35 pizzas…”

“Oh shit so that’s you. Fine… Give me a minute.” Trieste internally rolled her eyes, before turning around and walking off towards the back of the kitchen again.

Dido smiled to herself as she watched Trieste walk away, before looking at the tip jar on the counter. There wasn’t any money in there… which, to Dido, was very sad.

Trieste had been very patient with her despite the innumerable amount of shops she’d destroyed and was even polite to her despite her clumsiness. She was a very, very good person.

Dido liked her.

And so, she pulled out her wallet and attempted to place a small dollar bill into the cup, only to accidentally knock the cup over and onto the floor.

“Oh no no no no… this always happens…!” She whimpered, quickly dropping to her knees as she tried to pick up the cup, only to fumble around and drop the cup elsewhere a few more times.

Meanwhile, the sound of the door getting kicked open caused the bell above the door to fly off its hinges, as a cacophony of footsteps echoed throughout the pizza parlor.

“Oi, where the hell is the owner? We’ve got money to collect!” A harsh, brash voice called out from the doorway as a large group of people entered the pizzeria.

Jean Bart, followed by a large procession of other individuals dressed in black, walked into the parlor. Scanning the area for Trieste, Jean walked up to the counter and slammed her fist onto the lacquered wooden surface, creating cracks all across the surface.

“Ah shit I need to watch my strength… Whatever, HEY! PINKY! GET OUT HERE!” She shouted towards the kitchen as she wiped her hand with a random napkin from a nearby table.

A long, labored sigh came from the back as Trieste walked out again, holding an absolutely titanic 35 pizzas in her arms.

“Oh hell… what do you want?”

“Littorio owes us money, and we were told this was the place to pick it up!”

“Well you were told wrong, now please, leave. You’re disturbing the other customers”

“Why you- C’MERE!”

Dido managed to turn around just in time to see Jean Bart grabbing Trieste by the collar, as the magenta-haired kansen glared back at her assailant.

“H-Hey, stop!”

“Huh? The hell do you want?” Jean spat, turning to face the small maid.

“Hey… You’re one of those royal girls aren’t you, the hell’re you doing all the way out here?”

“U-Um, I’m just here to buy some pizzas! That’s all!”

Jean turned to look at the utterly massive stack of 35 pizzas. Given that nobody else was at the counter, and everyone else in the establishment was either staring at them or eating…

“35 whole pizzas? I ain’t buyin' it, now spill the beans pipsqueak!”

“Uwaaa!” 

Dido attempted to shield herself as Jean glared daggers at her. Trieste, not wanting one of her more frequent patrons to get intimidated, stepped forward after placing the pizzas down and nabbed Jean’s hand.

“Let her go.”

“And why should I?”

“Because if you want trouble, I can give you trouble. Now leave.”

“...Make me.”

Dropping Dido and turning to face Trieste, the two glared at one another as they non-verbally dared the other to back down. Dido meanwhile, scrambled to get to her feet and accidentally knocked over a table.

A table that had a candle on it.

FOOM

“...Oh no.”

“Alright pasta-fucker, come and get some!”

“Why you-”

Chaos erupted from the pizzeria as Trieste and Jean quickly took to slamming their fists into one another’s torsos, as the rest of Jean Bart’s men attempted to apprehend Dido. Dido in the meantime, was trying to find any sort of liquid to throw onto the fire.

She noticed a vaguely clear liquid on one of the other customer’s tables. Thinking quickly, she grabbed the glass, bowed apologetically towards the customer, and hucked the liquid towards the flames.

Which then grew exponentially.

“...What beverage did you order, mister?”

“Oh uh, an alcoholic one.”

“Oh noooooo…”

One of the men leapt towards her, crashing into another table nearby as Dido deftly rolled out of the way and flipped the drinks on the table over and onto the now rapidly-growing flames.

As it turned out, these were also alcoholic drinks.

“Oh noooooo…”

More men kept coming at her, with one throwing a nearby bottle of wine at Dido, which missed as the maid dodged yet again. Said bottle then landed squarely into the center of the now raging inferno.

“Oh nooooooo…”

Jean Bart and Trieste, completely unphased by the roaring flames dancing around them, continued battering one another with haymakers, kicks, and hammer fists. Trieste landed a nasty elbow to Jean’s chest, causing the Vichya battleship to grab a nearby bottle and slam it over Trieste’s head.

As you can probably guess by now, this made the fire even bigger.

“Nice job, asshole.”

“You started it, Pinky!”

“First of all, YOU started it, second of all, MY HAIR ISN’T PINK!”

Dido gulped as she watched patron and gang member alike run around in a panic, knocking over more drinks and feeding the ever-growing fire as it engulfed the pizzeria in it’s entirety.

“...I wanna go home…”

3 hours later.

The sound of police and ambulance sirens filled the streets as the various injured patrons and gang members were escorted out of the pizza parlor. Trieste watched as the fire department desperately attempted to extinguish the flames currently consuming her pizzeria for the 13th time now.

“I’m so sorry I’m so sorry I’m so sorry I’m so sorry-” Dido rapidly whispered to herself as she curled up into the fetal position on the ground next to Trieste, sobbing forcefully as she tried to calm herself down.

“...You’re really lucky I think you’re cute.”

“ Sniffle H-Huh?”

“Nothing.”

Chapter Text

The afternoon sun squinted down on a number of glorious chores. 

As everyone knew, the esteemed Marco Polo, former errand girl of the Sardegna mafia, now chief of the dirty-work-we-don’t-talk-about department, liked finishing chores early so that the rest of her well-earned day could be spent on infinitely more important matters. Her work very simply and normally involved a pleasant breakfast of brioche, coffee, and plums or grapes (never oranges, pineapple, or anything remotely citrus unless she was in a particularly sour mood), then a quick trip to the basement to see if any prisoners died overnight. Normally none, for she always took good care of them and turned on air conditioning or heating if they asked nicely. Today was no different: she fed and watered her captives, changed their bedding, wiped down chains and other choice equipment. The hammer stayed stubbornly sticky, but nobody lost their heads! 

A great start to a great day. 

She locked her doors and windows and climbed back into the sun, enjoying the marvelous sun on her face as she explored streets farther and farther from her house. There was the block full of her kin, then the block filled with her subordinates, and finally blocks of plebians who had nothing to do with her plans. Idiots gardened and neighbors chatted, and Marco remembered that she had no pizza in her freezer. Ah, so that was what the ugly note on her coffee table was for.

As she reversed course to the grocery store a couple turns down, she daydreamed of savory slices crammed into her mouth, the pornographic imagery of greasy cheese stuffed with tomato sauce and plump black olives tumbling off dripping pepperoni running through her mind - but alas, her fantasy was interrupted by a heaping of dry, pillowy crust. That blasted crust. 

Marco hated crust more than she hated traitors. Thick crust was the accursed work of the devil and sucked all the saliva out of her mouth like a vacuum cleaner would dust, and thin crust was equally terrible and crumbly and horrid like a worn-down two centimeter pencil. The only crust she tolerated was Sardegnian-made crust, because Zara 1 and Zara 2 hated wasting food and Trieste made it stuffed the way Marco liked it. 

She acquired a taste for stuffed crust, the stringy cheese stretching across the chasm between her mouth and a cylinder of holey crust. The very imagery made her mouth water. Whenever she bought frozen, she held fast to three priorities: stuffed crust, supreme, and finally anything else circular and pizza-like that she could get her hands on. 

When she stepped into the store, wrongness instantly shot her bones. 

Yes, okay, Marco Polo WAS an infamous torturer so high up on the Sardegnian ladder that she kept a M1 Garand rifle in the back of her shirt all the time, but her disguise never failed: a pair of sunglasses and a high blue ponytail usually threw men off the trail since they were dumbos who could only identify great women like herself by hair and face markings. But this wrongness was different. It startled her into stopping to make sure of her surroundings before she ventured deeper into the labyrinth of the freezer aisle. 

No, her senses did not deceive her: some shelves were stripped bare. Perhaps it was hoarding season again? Idiot Eagles probably started it. She muttered to herself, “Pizza is better than hamburgers. No more bagel bites. No more lasagna rolls.”

The ice creams were few and far between, the hot pockets invisible. Dread filled her heart as she stalked past frozen peas. The wrongness grew stronger, more malevolent.

Instinct told her what she tried so hard to deny as she turned the corner.

There was only one pizza left. In someone’s cart.

They took off with it. She growled. 

What a bastard. 

She pursued. Pizza dashed into the dessert aisle. 

A croissant display fell over. Like any trained man, she caught and chucked a box through the air with the efficacy of a tank. The shopper dodged as the box split against the cart, hurled into the air, and dropped buttery bread across the donut section. 

The shopper, thin crust pizza now held tightly to chest, slipped on bread like Mario Kart gamers slip on banana peels and tumbled head over heels into the cake freezer. His fall opened a door and caused rows of oreo cakes to bury him in layers of cookie and cream. 

Marco strode across the linoleum floor menacingly. 

The shopper scrabbled for purchase. 

She mercilessly smashed where his head was seconds prior. 

Her heeled boot punctured glass and left a large spider web of cracks across all columns of cake displays. Bright red pizza branding flickered in her periphery and fled to the self checkout aisle. She huffed, extricated her foot, and crossed her arms. 

“Hand over the pizza. I’ll go in peace in a jiffy,” she announced, voice bored. “C’mon, be magnificent and give it to me already, you mere mortal. Chop-chop.”

 Having checked out already, the man crowed at her triumphantly as if he never heard her words. “I’d rather die!” was heard. He had the gall to shake his fist as if SHE was the one at fault here, which she totally was not, since she could cover all property damage with her insurance. 

“I’m not gonna announce amnesty one more time, mister.” She beckoned. “Pizza. Now.”

Whispers began gathering at the edge of her senses. Unfriendly whispers. 

Men and women called her a freak. Rational ones quickly fled the scene. They couldn’t stand her. Someone wondered aloud if she was going to face consequences for her actions. The police would arrest her any moment now, subdue her with a backhand and give her a firm telling off, send her packing to her disgraced parents. 

Maybe her boss would fire her, or transfer her to another branch where she could be put down like a rabid dog. Maybe the underboss would come up with something fitting, putting her back to her place: wiping down the floors, cutting the lawns, setting the table and playing maid to everyone’s whims. Marco would have no more generous paycheck, would stay on house arrest for years, and would never be able to go outside by herself ever again. 

Marco Polo would complain, of course. Veneto could tell her to be quiet, since nothing gave Polo the right for this kind of attack in broad daylight. Veneto was in charge, not the errand girl. Veneto would suffer no overstep on her authority. Veneto would not sweep this under the rug, unlike her sisters. 

So laughable. So ridiculous. 

“I’m a very reasonable person,” Marco Polo frowned. “I just want the pizza, you fool.”

In response, he stuffed the still-frozen pizza in his face like a pig and glared at her.

“Such boorish behavior!” She shrugged. “Your choice.”

She cocked her M1 Garand and shot him.

Bullet casings blanketed the floor. As she quickly cleaned everything in her pizzaless vicinity, making a point to spare the pizza aisles and parlor, items flew off the shelves and fell into heaps of damaged merchandise. Only the alcohol in its locked and bolted shelter survived. Blood spilled across the floor, slapped the checkout aisles and across hapless cashiers which were definitely probably part of a gang of godless pizza-less men and maidens, and flesh flew around like in cow processing facilities. Red went everywhere. She was a torturer, not a janitor-assassin. 

Once her rampage ceased, she turned to admire her work. 

“How magnificent,” she complimented herself. 

Since everyone was dead, nobody stopped her from stealing several packs of matches and breaking into stashes of aged wine and alcoholic beers, not to mention the hard liquor. But even Marco Polo, in all her glorious, righteous rage, still retained her rational mind. The vodkas went outside so that she could bribe the Russian police, and she graciously escorted the pizza workers off the premises and into safe harbor. They were Sardegna henchmen, so it was fine. 

The well-trained mafiosa cracked bottles like eggs and turned the whole warehouse into a wonderful Molotov cocktail. It burned for several hours, and the gas tanks exploded. 

No culprit was found, according to public police reports. The case went cold, but not before seven branches of the same store corporation within a fifteen mile radius burned down within the hour. To those living in or around the impacted areas, the arsonist caused unprecedented catastrophes. 

For Marco, it was one o’clock. 

Satisfied with her morning of destruction, she ran to Trieste’s current establishment for her daily dose of pizza, but slowed when she saw charred, blackened stubs of foundation and yellow tape around the scene. Curious, Marco Polo slunk through the back alley and found her kin and a blanket-wrapped woman sitting together on the steps. How intriguing! 

Marco parted the shadows. “ Un pomeriggio splendido per voi. Stai bene? Are you well?” 

The buxom maiden, hands clasped loosely together, watched her with the exasperated fondness of a loyal hostess and ambitious businesswoman. Marco liked ambition. Trieste spoke loose, informal Italian to her. “Yes, I am as all right as can be after disciplining a few Vichy lackeys. Why are you here and not working, Marco? Last I checked, you’re still on duty.”

“Ah ah ah, I came to check on my most beloved pizza vendor for goods I could not possibly acquire myself. We all need breaks once in a while. But this is interesting, very interesting. I come for a quick bite and find evidence of work not my own! What happened here - is that melon-titted maid part of this awful catastrophe, Tri~este?” 

“Stop gawking, Marco. It’s impolite.” Trieste sighed. “I told you, the Vichya came by. Signorina Jean Bart wanted some money or the other from Littorio, but as I stay on the legal side, I refused. She pressed for a fight. I gave her one. Dido had nothing to do with that.”

“Oh ho ho,” Marco Polo leaned over and towered over miss melon-tits, a cowering young albino-haired woman with a fashionable headband and no visible arms. Marco judged her nonthreatening and put on gentle airs. “What were you doing at my lovely signoria’s pizza place, little girl? I’m not going to hurt you, I just want the truth. C’mon, spit it out.” 

“Uuu…” The girl sobbed. Marco changed tacks. 

“How are you, Signora Dido? Were you hurt in the fire?” 

 “I am doing well…” Dido whispered between tears. “Thank you for asking.”

“Alright, now I know you’re in shock. Can you please tell me what happened here?” 

“I ordered thirty-five pizzas,” Dido said miserably. “Then I messed everything up. Oh no. All my friends hate me and I’ll be left alone and nobody will ever want to talk to me again. I was just trying to put out the fire!” She hiccupped. “Why did everyone have to order alcohol today?” 

“Tequila Tuesday,” the Sardegnians said in sync.

“I’m so sorry,” Dido bawled. 

Thirty-five pizzas for… Marco did not want to open that can of worms. From her sojourns to the Dragon Empery, she heard many a complex tale of messages snuck in mooncakes leading to overthrown dynasties, but no matter! “It’s quite alright, Signora Dido,” Marco said cheerfully. “I’ve heard many good words about you.  In fact, I am surprised that this is our first meeting, for I always help dear Trieste rebuild her establishments. It is… the twelfth time in the past three months. What a splendid turnover rate! I really am impressed by how progressively fiery your flirting has become. Stay so ambitious, dear Dido!” She patted the girl’s head.

“Uuu- huh?” 

Marco brushed Trieste’s shoulder and switched to brusque Italian. “As always, I’ll forward your check when I’m home. I have business with associates of my basement friends. I’ll make sure to brief you on the details of whatever blood money the Vichy want from us.”

“Now shoo,” Trieste waved and switched back to Italian. “Go say it was all part of your plan in the comfort of your little dungeon as you whip another poor fellow into saying whatever you want him to say. Get your nose back to the grindstone. You smell of alcohol and smoke, by the way. How many did you kill today? Two hundred?” 

“They were all accomplices towards a pizzaless society,” Marco protested. 

“Whatever you say, miss ‘I’m going to spread Sardegna’s splendor.’ ”

Marco pouted and held out a hand. “Tri~este. Please. C’mon.”

Trieste rolled her eyes but complied, turning the corner. 

Dido whimpered as Marco sat down beside her.

“I can give you several pointers on seduction you would like,” Marco proposed. 

“I-am-very-grateful-for-your-offer-but-I-must-decline,” Dido stammered. “Have you any work that I can do to help repay Miss Trieste? Anything at all? As long as there are unfinished tasks, I can still be useful to her… right? I don’t want her to leave me behind because I’m annoying though I deserve it for burning down all her businesses. I don't mean to do that every time I visit though. I just like her… food. Is it really okay if I bring my misfortune to her? I don’t know what to do. I just don’t want to lose another friend. And she’s so very kind to me.”

Marco smiled as Trieste’s steps rounded the corner. “Stay ambitious. You’ll be fine.”

Trieste narrowed her eyes as Marco bounced to her toes and whisked the personal pizza out of her hands. “You best only mess with girls your size, Marco. Else I won’t give you any more gifts. I have quite a lot of friends I’d rather you not know about, you nosy sloth.” 

The crust was stuffed. Marco beamed. “Love you too. Here, for the police.” She dropped a heavy bag stuffed with looted vodka and Trieste rolled her eyes with a soft grimace. Dido’s head was in her hands, so it was totally fine. What could she do anyways? Report her stash? Cry about it to the Royals? Bah. Everyone knew how the NPD were. No secret there. 

Marco pivoted on her heel and signed a taxi, pausing to wave without looking behind her. 

“Ciao!”

Marco would have so much fun sniffing for the Vichya around town. Maybe burn a few banks, just for the thrill. She stuck her head out the window and relished the cool air on her forked tongue, narrowed eyes soaking in a land filled with fortune and fun, waiting for her chance to grab the reins. Jean asking Littorio for money…ahahahaha! Marco grinned.

All according to plan.

Chapter Text

When Eugen offered the idea of opening a maid cafe in order to bring in more revenue, Bismarck thought it was a great idea. It didn’t exactly require all that much effort, and she was rather content with just sitting back and dealing with all of the paperwork while the rest of her subordinates did what they did best. 

Unfortunately, she didn’t account for Eugen shoving a maid outfit into her hands, shoving her into a changing room, and then shoving the door closed with a parting line of “we open in 15 minutes, get ready.”

See as it turned out, Eugen had ALREADY made the maid cafe, and the approval was mostly just a last-minute afterthought. Additionally, Bismarck was apparently expected to be a part of the cast of maids, because Eugen claimed “she needed to get out and talk to people anyway.”

Bismarck, the leader of one of the biggest criminal organizations in the entire city, was now expected to put on a maid dress and serve customers while calling them things like “master” and “dear.”

The only, ONLY thing that could make this worse, would be if Hood herself walked into the cafe and-

“Oh my, what a pleasant surprise! Good evening, Miss Bismarck.”

Speak of the goddamn devil.

“O-Oh, Miss Hood, good evening! How are you today?” Despite stumbling a bit at first, Bismarck’s expertise in quelling her titanic spikes of anxiety managed to narrowly save her from making a mockery of herself in front of one of the most important members of her organization’s rival syndicate.

“I’m doing just fine, thank you~ You, however, seem rather pale, are you alright my dear?” Hood asked, strutting up to the now-dolled-up Bismarck, before placing a hand on her forehead.

If the sudden arrival of her definitely-not-crush showing up didn’t kill her, this definitely would.

It took all of her strength, and all the lessons her therapist had imparted onto her, to not immediately begin panicking right then and there.

The dress Hood was wearing really, REALLY didn’t help matters.

It was pure white, with an opening at the top revealing a rather noticeable amount of cleavage there for Bismarck to definitely not stare at. But honestly, that wasn’t the worst part.

No, the worst part was how tightly it hugged the Royal battleship’s hips.

Those goddamn hips.

If Eugen could hear her inner thoughts, she’d be harassed for days.

“I-I am doing just fine, thank you. Would you, uh, like to order anything?” Bismarck asked, very quickly changing the subject and tackling this particular situation with all the grace and tact of a cinder block covered in tar.

Taking a seat at one of the nearby tables, moving aside in order to let some of the other maids (at least the ones that weren’t staring at the couple) move through and get to their respective tables, Hood placed a finger upon her lips as she thought for a moment before having a truly brilliant idea.

“May I speak to Miss Eugen for a moment?” She asked, causing worry to brew within Bismarck’s gut yet again.

“Of course, j-just a moment please.” Bismarck responded, before quickly turning around and making a beeline towards the back of the café, desperately avoiding making eye contact with her fellow employees, who were now definitely whispering amongst themselves or winking at her.

This day could not possibly get any worse.

Scratch that, it most definitely could.

“You… You want to what?”

“I would like to order you, Miss Bismarck~”

Bismarck stood there for a few seconds, her mind slowly beginning to take in what was just said before she then immediately exploded into a mess of crimson blush and stuttered words.

“I-I don’t- That’s- How would- Why-”

“Oh don’t sweat it, I’ll have Tirpitz cover for you!” Eugen cut in, very obviously and noticeably winking at the leader of the Iron Blood as she gently elbowed the taller woman towards Hood.

“I feel like there’s something I’m missing here, w-what do you mean by ordering-”

“I’ll have the money sent to you shortly.”

“Excellent~ good doing business with you!”

Bismarck simply sat there as she watched Hood and Eugen exchange money and a handshake, with the latter then turning around and winking once more as she walked off, leaving Bismarck with a pat on the back and a very, very smug Hood.

“Now then, Miss Bismarck, shall we go?” That was all the warning Bismarck received before she felt a gloved hand snatch her own, dragging her towards the door.

“H-Hold on, what are we even going to-”

“You’ll see, my dear biscuit.”

Bismarck wasn’t sure what was worse. The horribly noticeable blush currently running all across her face, or the winks and giggles all of the other Iron Blood girls gave her as Hood dragged her out into the streets.

She sighed to herself as Hood began walking towards the city park.

This was going to be a very, very long evening.

The upside of living in such a lavish city, making it your home and your base of operations, was that one had access to such things like the absolutely massive and idyllic lake in the center of the park.

The downside was that shit like this could happen.

Hood sat across from her, still in her magnificent and alluring white dress as she sipped a cup of tea. Bismarck wasn’t sure what type it was, she was too distracted by Hood gently nudging her with her hips when they’d gone to the tea shop they’d stopped by on the way here.

She’d been thinking about those hips ever since.

Seriously, she needed to talk to a therapist about this.

They’d rented a boat and rowed out to the center of the lake, with Hood having stayed silent for most of the trip up until this point. It was getting rather dark out, with a star-filled sky hanging above the two like a natural chandelier of unspeakable proportions.

It felt awkward, frankly, especially with the not-very-subtle winks and looks Hood had been giving her the entire trip.

“Um… Miss Hood… may I ask as to why you’ve brought me out here?” Bismarck asked, looking a bit nervous as she tugged on the skirt of her maid outfit, which she hadn’t had time to change out of since their quick departure.

Hood took in another sip of tea before she gently placed it down beside her.

“Biscuit my dear, when was the last time you took a break?” 

“What are you talking-”

“The last time we had a meeting, you looked like you hadn’t slept in days. In fact, I can see the bags under your eyes right now.”

Bismarck looked surprised, before lifting her arm and realizing just how heavy it felt.

She hadn’t even noticed how tired she was, she had been too focused on getting her job done and completing the various tasks necessary for her as the Iron Blood Family’s leader.

“I wanted to take you on a fun little trip today, to help you relax and unwind from all that political nonsense you seem to be tangled up in all the time. Believe me, I understand.” Hood continued, leaning forward and placing a hand on Bismarck’s cheek, lifting the battleship’s head up so the two were eye level.

Hood smirked for a moment, before leaning in and kissing her friend on the cheek.

“And I think you’re rather cute~”

Bismarck sat frozen for a few seconds.

She’d never felt hotter.

“M-MISS HOOD!!”

“Giggle , let’s keep this a secret between us, shall we?”

Chapter Text

It was a calm day at the port, a most unusual sight given the history within its borders. Every now and then, the Factional mafias would engage in turf wars over control of the main Eagle Union continent, hoping to expand their spheres of influence. But though most of the fighting took place over there, all the leaders confined themselves to the port as their go-to headquarters, all divided into separate spheres of influence, of course.

Of course, with all the members so close together, relationships were likely to, and have formed as a result of this closeness. One such case was with Lady Hood, Queen Elizabeth’s trusted Consigliere. Had anyone told her that she’d have the head of the Ironblood mafia as her girlfriend, she’d tell them to pull the other one. Lo and behold, the duo got engaged a while back, and things have been happy ever since. However, the situation grew more complicated when her trusted bodyguard, the Made (Wo)Man Victorious got engaged with Bismarck’s younger sister, Tirpitz. At first, it was a little uneasy for two high-ranking members of the Royal Mafia to come and go so freely into Ironblood territory, but as time grew and their bonds deepened, the unease faded away.

That was until Victorious’ older sister, the lovely Illustrious, soon married one of the two Co-Heads of the Sardegnian mafia, the charismatic Littorio herself. Which leads us into our current situation; the three of them were casually seated at one of the tables in a café owned by the Royal mafia, the green-haired woman casually drinking a glass of wine to herself.

“…so I said to Veneto, ‘You really need to find someone to marry; would you like me to offer you a helping hand?’ and she accepted the offer graciously.” Littorio smirked to herself with a sense of pride in her tone, an idea forming in her mind. “You know, Veneto has been hoping to expand her influence in the culinary side of things; why don’t I arrange a meeting with her and Signora George?”

“Her Majesty rarely lets her top enforcer out of her sight; it wouldn’t surprise me if she’d tag along for the ride.” Hood rebutted casually as she sipped her tea, yet this did not deter Littorio.

“In that case, I’ll just set her up with someone else as a bonus, including that adorable bodyguard of hers.” The green-haired woman chuckled to herself, leaning forward towards the duo. “Between you and I, Giulio Cesare’s interested in catching up with her.”

Victorious couldn’t help but roll her eyes over the battleship’s enthusiastic plans on shipping. “Is that your role in Sardegna’s mafia? Pairing everyone together for the sake of attaining more power?”

“Ohohoho, far from it! I just like the idea of using my charms to help others find love. Carabiniere, Veneto’s darling of a bodyguard, is smitten over Le Malin from the Vichya Family. The lovely Duca degli Abruzzi has shown an interest in catching up with Biloxi of the Eagle Police Force and has even set up a double date alongside her sister, with Giuseppe taking Ironblood’s Prinz Adalbert as her lover. And how could I forget about my childhood friend Trento? She regals about how happy she is within Volga’s arms!” The Glory of Naples boasted about her Cupid-esque endeavours, her words catching the British women by surprise.

This woman…no wonder she was Co-Head of the Sardegnian Mafia; she had carefully orchestrated a web of romances and marriages that ensured that they had their fingers in every pie imaginable. Heck, it wouldn’t surprise them if she’s already making plans to marry into the Sakura Yakuza.

“You two may see it as a pursuit of power, but I see it as a way to spread the gift of love to us all. After all, I want everyone to be as happy with their lover as I am with my lovely Illustrious~” Littorio cooed in a wistful manner, holding her hands to her chest. “I adore her so much; I love her more than mere words can express.”

“Well I love my Tirpy so much that I make it my mission to wake her up, via a bomb to her room. After that, we get up to all sorts of fun~” Victorious rebutted in a competitive manner, her eyes narrowing slightly at the green-haired woman.

“You two are but novices; I hooked up with my Biscuit before you two even thought about love. If anything, I love my partner the most out of all of us.” The Mighty Hood rebutted with a hint of smugness in her tone. “Why I often make tea for her in the evening; nothing like a good cup to settle down for the night.”

“Oh yeah? Well, I’ve made that lovely party dress for her with my bare hands. Crafting clothes for someone is a lot harder than making a cup of tea.” The blonde carrier rebutted.

“Child’s play; every week, I procure the cream of our crop; the finest and most expensive Sardegnian wines for Illustrious. I’m purposely taking out of my organisations coffers just to sate my wife; how’s that for dedication?!” Littorio rebutted with a sense of pride within her chest.

“I see there’s only one way to sort this argument out…” Hood began as she slowly stood up from her chair. “Each of us will use the weekend to procure a gift for our lovers; whoever gets the best gift is declared the winner, and receives a favor from the losers, got it?”

“Heh, fine by me, Lady Hood. As the Herald of Victory, I shall sweep you both aside!” Victorious declared, slamming her fist on the table enthusiastically.

“You better dedicate an hour or so to thinking of a favor for me; because it’ll be I, Littorio who takes home the prize!” The green-haired woman replied with zeal, the trio solemnly shaking each other’s hands before heading off in separate directions, no doubt preparing themselves and their gifts.

0000

A determined hum escaped from Hood’s mouth as she slaved over the kitchen top, her fingers working their magic as she proceeded to prepare a cake. But it wasn’t just any cake; it was to be a harmonious mixture of British and German cooking, a symbol of her relationship with Bismarck.

A good portion of the cake batter was ready; all she had to do was prepare the icing and it’ll all be golden. Just then, a brisk walking graced her ears, the battlecruiser turning to see her dear friend, Prince of Wales casually enter the kitchen. A look of intrigue on her face, Wales eyed up the bowl of icing that Hood was whisking fervently, the battleship slowly walking up to her.

“Good afternoon; Her Majesty would like you to fill in a report on our finances by this evening.” Wales informed her, the battlecruiser giving her a disinterested nod.

“I’m a little busy here making the best cake for my beloved Biscuit; I will not be owing Littorio a favor, no matter the cost!” Hood declared with a hint of aggression in her tone, knowing that her pride was at stake here.

“Easy there, let me lend you a hand here. It’s what friend’s do after all.” The blonde battleship chimed in, casually taking her place beside the battlecruiser as she got to work preparing the cake. Slowly, she took out the batter from the oven and placed it atop the counter, awaiting for Hood to pour the chocolate icing all over it. She licked her lips as the gooey concoction oozed all over the cake, the battleship scooping some up to taste it, before licking her lips in satisfaction.

“Wales!” Hood exclaimed at her in sheer surprise over her audacity.

“What? I was just giving it a taste test. That said, this is some mighty good chocolate; I could pour this stuff all over Eugen and go to town on her~” The blonde battleship licked her lips over the risqué thought, a sigh escaping from the battlecruiser’s mouth.

“This is why you’ll never rise through the ranks…” She muttered to herself as she finished spreading the icing all over the cake, rummaging the draws for the decorations she had planned to put on the top.

“Aw, come on. There’s nothing wrong with a little spice in the bedroom; why Yorkie loves biting upon Scharnhorst’s neck. She’s gentle, of course, but it really spices up their night battles. And then there’s Howe; you’d never think she was into gentle BDSM, but I guess Dunkerque learned that the hard way.” Wales regaled about the love lives of her sister’s so casually, a mischievous glimmer in her eyes. “And then there’s Monarch; ohohoho, the stories I could say about her…”

“Like?” Hood inquired, mentally preparing herself to regret asking the question in the first place.

“Shall I start with how she was able to beat both August von Parseval and Ägir in a naval battle at the same time, before bedding the two of them? Or about how she spends her days lifting weights with Washington and South Dakota? Or even the time she endured a steamy interrogation from the Northern Police Force, resulting in six of their members left utterly exhausted?” The blonde battleship rambled on; no doubt impressed with her sister’s exploits.

“…Let’s just stick with making a cake, alright?” The battlecruiser commented dryly, handing some decorations to her friend as they sprinkled them over the top. Thankfully, the process only took a couple minutes, a sense of pride soon emanating from the Mighty Hood. “Whew, we’re done. Now to wait for my other gift to arri—”

“Special delivery for Lady Hood!” The door burst open as King George V herself entered the kitchen, holding what looked to be a fairly large package. Resting it atop the table, her gaze turned towards the cake before giving it a generous sniff, a look of hunger forming on her face. “Oh? What do we have here?”

“Hood’s baking a cake to give to Bismarck and show up Littorio. I decided to help her out, of course.” Wales reported to her older sister.

“Looks delicious~” The Head Enforcer chimed merrily, scooping up a bit of icing with her finger before licking it, a hum of satisfaction escaping from her mouth. “It is delicious; you’re an incredible cook, Lady Hood.”

“Why, thank you.” She replied, quickly wiping the top of the cake to hide the missing portion of icing. “So how are things on your end?”

“Oh, nothing.” George replied, only to take a letter out of her jacket pocket and flashed it to her. “I was just invited by Littorio to go on a date with her older sister; I’ll admit, I’ve always wanted to have a conversation with Veneto regarding Sardegnian cuisine.”

“Now this is getting interesting…” Wales piqued up, her gaze firmly planted on her older sister. “Make sure you let me know how things go for you two.”

“I will; after all, it is my duty to monitor the status of my enemy for Her Majesty.” The Head Enforcer replied, her gaze turning to face Hood. “I wish you all the best in your endeavour~”

With a wave, the blonde battleship turned around to exit the kitchen, the duo gazing at her magnificent stern. It was a trait shared by all the KGV sisters, much like how all the Illustrious sisters had incredible bosoms. And with that lovely image planted in their mind, the duo proceeded to tidy up the kitchen; Belfast was known to get quite angry whenever someone left the kitchen a mess.

0000

“Are you sure you can trust her, my lady?” The quiet, yet dignified voice of Hardy spoke to Victorious, the blonde carrier giving her a reassuring nod. Hardy was one of the more junior members of the Royal Mafia, but her diligence and reliability earned her promotion after promotion, all the way up to the role of Bodyguard for Made (Wo)Man, Nelson. There, she oversaw her boss as the latter conducted arms deals with various other factions, the destroyer soon earning her bosses’ respect and adoration.

Yet tonight was a different assignment for her; the petite destroyer was escorting Victorious to a secret meeting with a client of hers, Taihou of the Tori clan. Many considered her to be the head of the clan, with the Crane Sisters acting as her most trusted subordinates. However, Victorious was about to form an unlikely friendship with her, over their shared hobby of sewing clothes. As such, they would often exchange material behind their organisations backs in order to further their own needs.

It was late at night in the park when the British women arrived at their destination, standing on the spot as the blonde carrier raised a hand to her mouth. “You can come out now; the foxes are asleep!”

Upon hearing the designated phrase, the black-haired woman emerged from some nearby bushes with a bag in her hand, the phoenix flicking off some stray leaves off her kimono. Beside her was the young Shouhou, whom Victorious determined to be her bodyguard for the night.

“It took a lot of string pulling to convince the Akuma clan to give up this much silk; this better be worth it for me…” A slight hint of fiery fierceness could be heard in Taihou’s tone of voice, indicating just how powerful she was. Many unfortunate souls mistook her for an easy target on account of her breathtaking beauty; their charred remains are buried underneath her Zen Garden.

“Don’t worry, Taihou. You’d know I’d never pull a fast one on you~” Victorious winked playfully at her, handing the phoenix her bag full of silk with the latter peering into it.

“This…” The black-haired woman began, slowly lifting up a piece in the air to get a better look. “Is this not your leader’s exclusive silk? Are you that desperate for Sakuran silk that you’d willingly risk your life?”

“What can I say? I want to give Tirpy the best gift imaginable, and I’m willing to do anything to achieve that goal!” The blonde carrier stated happily, with Taihou giving her a quick nod.

“In that case, I accept your offering. Shouhou!” She called out, the younger girl making her way towards Hardy and handed over the bag of Sakuran silk. “This material is the best for making kimonos and other Sakuran-style fashion. I should know; I’m an expert seamstress myself.”

“I know all too well about the quality of your clothing; I still own that lovely dress you made me all those years ago~” Victorious chimed as she peered inside the bag, a look of satisfaction forming on her face. “Perfect, this’ll give me the edge over my sister-in-law.”

“I’m still surprised that Queen Elizabeth allowed the marriage to go through…seems like she fell right into Littorio’s trap.” Taihou mused to herself.

“You would think so, but this is big sis Lusty we’re talking about; she has a way of making her sing like a canary. Hehe, I’m so proud of her.” The blonde cooed merrily, raising a hand to her cheek.

“This is Littorio we’re talking about; she could be purposely singing like a canary to lure us all into a trap. The Sardegnian’s have been in the business far longer than we have.” Hardy reminded her, casually shrugging her shoulders.

“I suppose you do raise a fair point, Hardy. I see why Nelson is so fascinated with you.” Victorious continued, only to be hit with a spark of brilliance. “I have an incredible idea! With the leftover silk from the kimono, I can make a second one for you so that you can gift it to Nelson!”

“E-Ehhh?!” A stunned cry escaped from the destroyer’s mouth as the blonde clasped her hands.

“Oh, oh, oh. I can picture it in my mind right now; the patterns, the thickness of the silk, and how it’ll hug her body so tightly. It may make her breasts stand out, but I doubt you’ll complain; I’ve seen you eyeing them up so many times.” She continued to ramble eagerly.

“N-Not in front of the—” Hardy barely stuttered out, her cheeks burning a bright red.

“Me and my sisters may be famous for our soft landings, but Nelson and her sister have some impressive landings of their own. I’m sure she’ll treat you to a soft landing of her own~” Victorious ended happily, clasping on the now beet red destroyer. Shooting Taihou another wink, the British women merrily made their way back home, eager to begin working on creating the perfect gift for Tirpitz.

“Mikasa is right; the Royal Mafia is full of perverts…” Shouhou commented dryly, a casual laugh escaping from Taihou’s mouth.

“Let them have their fun, we’ve got the upper hand now!” She smiled, piquing her bodyguard’s attention. “We now know that the Sardegnian’s are planning something, though what exactly is still a mystery to us. When we get back to base, I’m assigning Umikaze to spy on them and figure out what they’re up to.”

“With all due respect, my lady. Wouldn’t the Cranes be better suited for this?” Shouhou inquired.

“They’re busy spying on the other clans for me, waiting for them to make a wrong move. And when they do…” A grin formed on the phoenix’s face as she chuckled to herself once more. “That’s when we’ll swoop in and crush them all, unifying the clans under our banner!”

0000

A casual hum escaped from Littorio’s mouth as she sat on one of the tables in the (rebuilt) pizzeria that Trieste owned. The green-haired woman couldn’t help but chuckle over the tale she was told; supposedly, Jean Bart came in to collect money that she supposedly owed her, only for Dido of the Royal Mafia to burn the place down in another act of clumsiness.

Still, she had to admire her colleague’s tenacity; no matter what happened, she would always rebuild the place from scratch. And as for Jean Bart? Well, a certain canary started singing into her ear about her supposed visits to the Eagle Police Force in order to meet up with Police Sergeant Massachusetts. As such, she now had an ace up her sleeve just in case someone starts asking around for money.

*slam!*

“Littorio, what is the meaning of this?!” The stern tone of her fellow co-leader and older sister, Vittorio Veneto called out to her as she stormed into the pizzeria with a newspaper in her hand, her loyal bodyguard following right behind her.

“Sorella, what could you possibly be—” The green-haired woman began, only to see Veneto slam the paper onto the table. Picking it up, her gaze homed in on the top story plastered atop the front page.

‘Northern Parliament Fabergé eggs stolen in daring heist of the century! Suspects widely believed to be agents of Sakura’s Akuma clan, as two members, Inazuma and Ikazuchi were arrested by the Eagle Police Force.’

“…If you can let me explain, I’ll do so in a heartbeat.” Littorio steadily raised her hands in the air to calm her sister down, a mild huff escaping from her mouth. “Anyway, I wanted to get the best gift imaginable for my darling wife. So I hired some girls of the Akuma clan to steal those eggs, and the rest is history.”

“Do you have any idea what the consequences of your actions are? Because of you, we now owe a considerable debt to them as you got two of their top enforcers captured! Not to mention that we’re sitting on a crate’s worth of contraband as we speak. If either of them spill the beans about who hired them, we’d have the entire Eagle Police Force upon us!” The Eternal Flagship ranted, all while Littorio poured some wine into a set of three glasses.

“At ease, sorella. I’ve got you all covered.” She reassured her, handing a glass of wine to Veneto and Carabiniere. “I have some interesting gossip regarding one of Eagle’s finest sergeants, Massachusetts. You remember that brutish Jean Bart, the one who trashed this lovely establishment?”

“Aye, how could we ever forget about her? I’m never borrowing money from her again…” Carabiniere shuddered to herself in fear.

“Well let’s just say that the two of them are together. And if word of this ever go out, it could cause massive friction within the both of them; we could take them both out with one fell swoop!” Littorio declared openly, slamming her fist into her palm.

“That makes me a little bit better, but that still doesn’t solve my major grievances.” The grey-haired beauty continued.

“I was just about to get to that part. So we’ll just send Massachusetts an anonymous letter informing her about her secret as well as our demands. We’ll free the two Akuma enforcers, our little sister Impero, as well as a few other prisoners from the various families. Sounds good to you?” The green-haired woman began.

“Why the other prisoners? Wouldn’t that be a detriment to us, Signora Littorio?” Carabiniere chimed in, a hint of curiosity in her tone.

“I see where she’s coming from; if we just asked for Impero and those two to be released, then suspicion would immediately fall onto us. But if we asked for a wide variety of prisoners to be released, then that makes things a lot harder for them to figure out the culprit.” Veneto mused to herself.

“Exactly!” The Glory of Naples grinned to herself, fishing under the table and brought out a Fabergé egg, the jewel-encrusted ornament sparkling within the light. “For you, my dear sister…”

“Y-You had one on your person this whole time?!” The Eternal Flagship exclaimed in disbelief.

“What can I say? I was hoping to give one to you in person; I have a whole bunch of them after all~” The green-haired woman mused to herself. “I also have one for Trento, one for Zara, one for Pola, one for Giulio, one for Carabiniere, and one for Impero.”

“Unbelievable…” Veneto muttered to herself in disbelief, smacking her face with her hand.

“I always look out for those close to me…” Littorio chimed in, gingerly resting a hand on her sister’s shoulder. “Sorella, shall we take a bath together? You seem to be awfully stressed today.”

“Gee, I wonder why…” The battleship commented dryly.

“Allow me to make it up to you for putting you under so much stress; I shall give you the most relaxing bath you’ve ever had in ages. I’ll even go so far as to use the lotion that my lovely Illustrious prefers; it’ll work wonders on your skin~” The green-haired woman proposed to her, her older sister mulling over the offer.

“Well I could use a bath right now…” She mused to herself quietly, looking into her sisters eyes and gave her a quick nod. “Very well, I’ll take you up on your offer.”

“Splendid, let us make for the Roman Baths right away!” Littorio stood up from her chair, her arm snaked around her sister’s shoulders. “I shall pamper you with the utmost care; washing that immaculate hair of yours, rubbing that silky skin ever-so gently, and lovingly caressing those huge—”

“Littorio!” An exclaimed cry of embarrassment escaped from Veneto’s mouth, her cheeks as bright red as her uniform as the duo exited the pizzeria, a quiet sigh escaping from Carabiniere’s mouth as she followed the duo out the store.

“I should plan my retirement soon…” She spoke to herself, hoping to cash out as soon as possible and spend the rest of her days in peace, preferably with Le Malin by her side.

The Next Day

It was a lovely, if slightly chilly day outside, a gentle breeze blowing through the area. Within the lush park were seated three women; the Bismarck sisters and Lady Illustrious, all of were awaiting the arrival of their special someone. Bismarck herself was seen as an anomaly by a few of the other leaders; on the outside she was a ruthless and effective leader of her respective organisation, but behind closed doors, she was a more relaxed, if socially awkward woman. Her younger sister was also a little withdrawn, and slightly distant, hence why they found themselves enamoured by the two British women.

“I must say, I’m looking forward to my gift~” Illustrious chimed sweetly as she gazed at the diamond ring upon her finger, a sign of her everlasting marriage with Littorio. “Knowing her, she’d go above and beyond for my present.”

“Frankly, I care not for the monetary value of my gift; for as long as it was gifted to me by my love, then it’ll mean the world to me.” Bismarck commented to herself, the sound of approaching footsteps gracing their ears. Turning their heads, they saw their respective lovers casually approaching them, the trio holding up a large box each within their arms.

“There you are, Tirpy! I’m so glad you’ve waited for me.” Victorious cried out cheerfully as she ran up to the white-haired battleship, the duo embracing each other warmly. “I bet you can’t wait to see what my gift is for you~”

“Oh? And here I was hoping to give my gift first.” Hood chimed in with a bemused smile.

“I’m content to go after you two; as the old saying goes, the best is saved for last.” Littorio declared with her usual flair and confidence. With a casual gesture, she encouraged Victorious to offer her gift first, the blonde carrier eager to do so.

“Here you go; I made this with all the love and Sakura Silk in the world~” She cooed affectionately, with Tirpitz slowly opening up her present and peered into the box. With an awestruck coo, she gingerly lifted up an elegant white kimono with black trimming, a wide variety of floral patterns printed upon the outfit.”

“V-Vicky, I…” Tirpitz was taken aback by the sheer beauty of her gift.

“I had to pull some strings with my contact within Sakura’s Tori Clan, but I was able to get what I was after. Nothing is too much for my beloved Tirpy~” Victorious chirped merrily, gently sitting atop her girlfriend’s lap.

“I…Thank you so much! I love you with all my heart, Vicky.” The white-haired battleship started to tear up as she embraced her girlfriend lovingly, the blonde carrier gingerly petting her head.

“I’m happy for you, Schwester. Happier than words could ever express…” Bismarck cooed peacefully, gently resting her hand on her sister’s thigh.

“Hopefully you have some words left within you, as I’ve got something for you and Young Parzival to share~” Hood chimed in as she walked up to her girlfriend and presented her with the cake, slowly lifting up the lid and showed it to her. “But that’s not all. I also got you a nice little bonus~”

Intrigued, Bismarck gingerly accepted the velvet box and opened it, only to gaze upon a designer watch from one of the more expensive brands out there. The blonde battleship had been longing for a new watch ever since her old one was broken during a shoot-out with the Northern Police Force. “Your gift is wonderful, Lady Hood. Thank you, very much.” Bismarck smiled at her, the elegant battlecruiser taking a seat beside her on the bench.

“I was hoping we could catch up over tea; despite the rivalry between both sides, Cygnet and Parzival have grown to be fast friends, and I’m sure they’re eager to see each other again.” Hood suggested, her hands creeping up to Bismarck’s stomach and began rubbing it sensually, a purr of content escaping from the battleship’s mouth.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea…” She replied, stifling a wince as her girlfriend continued to massage her belly.

“And now it’s time for me to take home the prize; I hope you two have thought up of a favor you can repay me with~” Littorio winked at her competitors, the green-haired woman proudly walking up to her wife and knelt before her. “Mia bella signora; I have gone above and beyond to procure you the best gift imaginable. Yet know that it’s beauty will forever pale when compared to your beauty.”

“Why thank you~” Illustrious chimed sweetly, gently accepting the box and opened it, her mood soon taking a sharp turn as she picked up one of the Fabergé eggs within it. “This is…”

“Yep, the eggs stolen from the museum. I orchestrated a daring heist to reclaim them just for you; they’re better suited in your room than within the glass case of some stuffy museum!” The green-haired woman proclaimed, standing up and gingerly grasped her wife’s hand. “Now, shall we retire to your room, or mi—”

“STOP RIGHT THERE, CRIMINAL SCUM!” The sharp tone of Enterprise called out as she and several Eagle Police Officers surrounded the Sardegnian, their rigging aimed directly at her. Included in the ambush were Essex, Massachusetts, Wichita, Cleveland, and St. Louis, the former of which was eager to prove herself today. “You’ve violated the law; surrender peacefully and you’ll live.”

“And that’s my cue to leave. I’ll see you as soon as I can, mia bella signora…” The Glory of Naples planted a kiss on the carrier’s lips, before making a break for it and ran away from the park, with the Eagles in hot pursuit.

“You’re not getting away from us this time.” Enterprise declared as she led the pursuit, the group of five watching them go with a hint of bemusement on their faces. Leave it to Littorio to make a dramatic exit. At the very least, she’d most likely forget about the favor they owe her.

Chapter Text

Hiyou sniffed her suit, jacket folded crisply on her forearm. A mild smell responded, and she made note to do the laundry sooner rather than later, folding back her sleeves so that the cool air whisked away sweat trickling down her back. 

Branches whispered overhead as she took the usual route from work to Shouhou’s school. The boulevard, lined with out-of-season cherry trees, meandered from narrow residential streets to wide community plazas, home to street vendors gleaning quick midday bucks from afternoon rush hour. A grizzled woman flipped steaming balls of green-onion splattered takoyaki , steam running through her face and into hungry noses, a long line spilling from the counter to the fountain and even around the benches. A cheerful couple prepared springtime slushies, snow cones, and cold treats for customers, though everyone knew  they knew that everyone knew they specialized in royal milk tea. Swift Hiyou avoided these tourist traps and pursued her sister’s favorite: the sakura mochi stand. 

An old man sweltered under the refuge of a wagasa umbrella, his stall adorned with bright pink globs wrapped in decorative leaves, stacks of five pressed together on unwrapped styrofoam trays. Though his prices were high - about fifteen-hundred yen total, three-hundred yen per piece, or three American dollars per glob - his treats had a distinct, unmatched flavor; his fragrant recipe was excellent, and Hiyou considered him a friend. 

On the days she took Shouhou to school in the morning and bought groceries for the month, she crossed paths with him at the supermarket and open-air markets. Sometimes they walked quietly together in the comfortable old friendship of routine, with the old man marching with his cane and herself carrying all the goods as they shopped, at her insistence. 

Once, when New Year’s came and Shouhou’s snowed-in school meant Hiyou headed out with the youngster in tow, the old man took one look at her exhaustion and Shouhou’s angry frozen face and immediately ushered them into an udon shop run by an auntie he played riichi mahjong with. Au ntie Udonko made the best noodles in the district. Shouhou’s flush at the shopowner’s fussing at how thin and short she was, cawing at the beauty of her round-egg ugly duckling face, and hennish insistence to keep stuffing the poor child full of spicy noodles, coupled with Hiyou’s speed round with the old man and a friendly uncle, seared warm memories into her mind. Junyou had come late to pick her and a sleeping Shouhou up, but at the old man’s urging stayed for the fireworks sighting on the third floor. 

“What a bother,” Junyou said at home. 

“I knew you’d like him,” Hiyou replied cheerfully. 

Now Hiyou took a pack of five and paid with extra change to spare. 

Branches whispered overhead. A gaggle of tourists posed for pictures on a forest shrine as she walked down the boulevard. It was lined with out-of-season cherry trees. She took the usual route from work to Shouhou’s school. The cool air and dark trees whispered against the back of her neck in greeting.  Bells wrapped around her bicep laughed quietly as she smacked the juncture of her neck and came away with a mosquito. She rolled her eyes and took a shortcut down the trail, jumping steps down the riverbank and crossing the rushing creek with an old dock hidden by a graffiti-clad overpass. A couple of homeless slept in the gap where the bridge and riverbank met, while a few Japanese fishermen smoked in the reeds with their lines cast and buckets half-full. One man waved at her, and she waved back with almost no recognition. 

Waiting outside the front gate, Shouhou fiddled with her phone, sports bag squashed under her elbow. Her uniform was a little small for her age, but it would last for the next two years. As Hiyou came closer, the high schooler took notice, putting away her phone.

“Hiyou -nee , ya late,” Shouhou sighed. 

“I got kept behind,” Hiyou explained. They walked. “Sorry. I know how you hate making your friends stay back. How was kyūdō ?” 

“Ok.”

“Did you hit the target?”

“The luck’s a bit poor. Came close.”

“Was lunch alright?” 

“Mhm. Got bread ‘n milk.”

“You need to eat your fruits, little girl.”

“Wha’ever.”

“Did you learn anything interesting today?” 

“Mhmn.”

“What did you talk about with your friends today?”

“Yea, yea.”

“Are your shoes filthy?”

“Mhm.”

“I’m going to steam greens tonight. I know you love those. That's okay?”

“Ok.”

Shouhou hated steamed greens. Hiyou rolled her eyes. The girl was on her phone again.

The purple-haired woman cuffed her roommate on the neck. “How are your shikigami?” Hiyou gnawed. 

The girl rubbed her neck and groaned. “They be a pain to maintain.” They stepped over the dock as Shouhou turned around and pulled out an origami airplane. “This kiddo can’t fly no more than two feet now. Yer making me sad, lil’ feller!” She shook it lightly and laughed. “The peers real like ‘em, though. Ah, Kaga-nee's comin' over, ain't she? Right on time for maintenance!"  

“Mhm. That’s good, then.” Hiyou swallowed. 

“Y’know, Ryuuhou said t’day tha’ she was thinkin' on it and tha' she's prolly gonna join th’ yakuza after graduatin'.” The girl kicked a rock down the road and into the forest. There was the shrine, which hummed at them in acknowledgement as they passed; Shouhou eyed a whole tangerine on the offering plate but thought better of it as the trees started to loudly rustle in warning. “Whaddya think?”

“You be happy about that. A partner might be good for you during night watches.”

Shouhou barked a laugh. “Ain’t nothin’ good ‘bout it but for what Miss Taihou gets upta. Some nights... th' walls be too thin!”

Hiyou cackled. “Well, if pulling all-nighters starts affecting your little grades, I’ll pull favors, you hear?”

The girl gave a sour grin. “Aww. Thanks for lookin’ out for me, ya purple pile o’ seagull poo.”

Hiyou tugged on the girl’s topknot and said sweetly, “Anytime, you wonderful little girl.”

When Shouhou graduated from junior high, they were close enough with the old man and his friends that the lot of them came to her graduation ceremony, taking too many pictures to count. There were glossy photos of Shouhou, clad in a traditional off-red kimono with golden butterflies and dark pink swirls, sandwiched by the two sisters, Hiyou with a wide smile and Junyou a reserved grin, pictures of Shouhou with her friends, one with Ryuujou, images of Shouhou standing with the old folks and even more of everyone all together. The udon owner still snickered at Shouhou’s stubby legs, but admitted she had grown taller and was practically her own lady by now, a sentiment Shouhou preened at. 

Curiously, Junyou struck up with an old admiral, a retired commander who now spent her days as a specialty mailman, and took quite the interest in whom she abruptly termed her “childhood friend.” Hiyou should have asked why, but she hadn’t been paying attention with her promotion and sudden jump in round-the-clock hours. They didn’t talk as much as they used to. So when Junyou got a girlfriend, all three of them were surprised. Hiyou never saw her sister calmer than she was then. Suddenly, Junyou made a number of friends, other women who Hiyou occasionally crossed paths with at the plaza and Shouhou’s school but never got to know well. Their house grew lively with chatter and chocolates, conch shells brought as gifts when Junyou got engaged, filling corners of their small abode with faint whispers of sea spray.

One day, when Hiyou swept the house, Junyou spoke up in a dreamy singsong voice. 

“I know exactly what you’re thinking, Hiyou -nee : that I’m a grown woman and should put my childhood fantasies behind. I know, but after all that fighting down by the sea, after all that torment and pain, I’m glad I found my oldest friend again. How could she have forgotten… I know all her favorite things, and now she knows mine. I’m not sick. I’m really not, nee-san . She’s still the same as she was back then.” Junyou clasped her hands together over her chest and smiled. “We were bound to be together forever.”

Junyou was wearing a long red scarf her fiance knitted as a Christmas present.

There was a row of crumpled shikigami behind the couch. Hiyou cleaned them up. “Has Shouhou been giving you these? I swear they’re multiplying.” One skittered to Junyou’s side.

“Ahaha… you used to love your planes so much. My poor sister.”

“I still love my planes,” Hiyou said, affronted. 

“But we’re not talking about the same things, nee-san .” Junyou peered at her under the shadow of her bangs, powerful red eyes marking the hidden chrysanthemum crest at Hiyou’s chest. Junyou sighed with a flowery air and shook her head in shallow dismay. “You used to be so defiant in war. Now, you forget what your models mean to you, and revel in stupid tasks to satisfy your delusions of grandeur. Aren’t we the same?” 

Hiyou’s blank gaze belied her disconcertment. 

Dressed in her marriage kimono, an intricate article of blazing red cloth embroidered with sparkling yellow swirls and orange-gold flowers, Junyou wrapped her hair in buns pinned in place with red omamori knots. The white folds of her inner layer trailed outwards in two thick lines, revealing tall crimson sandals. She glistened in every sense of the word. Taihou was pleased with her handiwork and fussed with the bride-to-be to stay for tea, candied fruits, gossip and more. While Junyou never got along well with sweet girls, they talked through the night. 

After work, when she came to pick her sister up, Hiyou waited quietly at the front door, listening to peacetime’s carefree chatter, and felt knots unwind in the pit of her stomach as her little sister and the volatile sewmaster talked and giggled at length about past, present, and future affairs; Junyou’s unguarded face filled with warmth, and Taihou’s fiery smile relaxed. 

Happy.

Happiness always lay on thin ice, prone to cracks at the mildest words and quick to shatter at a moment’s notice. They grew too complacent with the bright expanse stretching to horizon’s end, an expanse Hiyou saw in her dreams, flying over a small island filled with blooming sakura and red torii gates. Happiness, contrary to her sister’s hot headed beliefs, never lasted long, much less forever. How ironic: Junyou, back when they overran the streets in shoplifted desperation and smuggled time, always embittered the air with her sharp, angry cynicism over their abandonment, their weakness, their loss, while Hiyou was the optimist, the fighter, the victorious vulnerability in her sister’s side. 

That woman reversed their roles. Suddenly Junyou cared about flowers, girly sweetness and syrupy words, so dangerously disillusioned with reality to deny it at every turn, while Hiyou cut them off from their sordid past, tied up loose ends to prove her honor, and filled her airheaded mind with a family defined by negation. 

Then old auntie Undonko called Hiyou in a panic, crying about the commander.

Shouhou coughed as a piece of mochi slipped down the wrong pipe, and Hiyou spoke.

“Where’s Junyou? I need to tell her about the mart. The shooting.”

“Wha…? Tha’ ain’t funny, Hiyou -nee .”

What was it again? Her planes, her little planes. Where were her planes? Wasn’t there a mission she had to complete? Her shikigami fluttered against the back of her hand, Zeros lining up in quick order to launch off her rolling golden deck. Her pupils dilated, yellow irises ringed with the whites of savage eyes. They were going to the Marianas Islands, and she had to improve her technique, to destroy the- the-

Who?

The ground under her feet lurched. Gravel ground under her boots. She glanced up at the out-of-season cherry blossom trees. They were at the plaza. There were few vendors. The takoyaki stand and snow cone couple had short lines. Shouhou finished her mochi and burped. 

“Shouhou?” Hiyou just noticed her presence. “I forgot to ask. How are your shikigami?”

“They’re fine, I told ya. Where’s tha’ smell comin’ from?” The girl sneezed. 

Shouts echoed across the plaza. A little boy pointed at an evolving lump of black smoke swirling up into the sky, innocently tugging at his mother’s sleeve with youthful wonder, gaping in awe as his mother and father spoke in quick, hushed tones. A kimono-clad woman covered her mouth, apparently holding her breath. Only whispering wind filled the uncanny silence.

Several small, bright flashes reflected against the dark column in the sky. Booms and growls set off screams. Buildings creaked ominously.

“ Kaji! ” Someone shouted. 

The sakura mochi stand was gone. Hiyou tossed her attention elsewhere. Most civilians cleared out of the plaza, with only a small family of three, some tired salarymen, a grandma, a couple of ladies, and a few quickly folding vendors fleeing the scene. A group of high schoolers scattered. Shouhou kept staring at the smoke, eyes narrowed. 

“Shouhou,” Hiyou said calmly, “go home. I have to do something.”

Shouhou crossed her arms and glared at her over her shoulder. “Wha’?”

“I need to find a friend I saw around here before I picked you up. Get home. Now.”

“Splittin’ up ain’t goin’ find her faster,” Shouhou protested to deaf ears. “I can help-”

“Run. Take this. Kaga -nee will tell you what to do.” Hiyou pressed the fan into Shouhou hands and forced fingers around it, even as the girl winced and jerked away. Her voice was deep and husky, far too serious to leave any room for argument. “Go home and stay sharp.”

She wouldn’t budge, brown eyes hard and older than her body. “But Kaga -san doesn’t-” 

Hiyou pushed the girl down the road. A streak of starlight shot across the sky. 

Distant explosions rolled through clouds. 

Thundering flames downed roofs.

Hiyou was immovable.

Yellow light lapping against her skin, Hiyou watched as Shouhou ran, first slowly, then briskly, accelerating from trot to sprint and then nothing when she turned corners. They taught her well; she didn’t look back.  Good girl. 

She flexed her fingers, cracked her knuckles, and unbuckled the scroll she kept at her side at all times. Unrolled, the sheet of golden light hit the floor and bounced in a tantalizing swirl of movement to hover easily under her left hand, rippling around her waist not unlike a ribbon dancing around its center of gravity, the performer controlling its strings. Drops of white ink rippled across the scroll’s pristine glassy surface, generating several shadows of movement. Hiyou casually scratched the back of her neck and called, “You can come out now.”

Only branches stirred. 

When Hiyou’s planes began to purr, an elegant woman swept out from the roadside. Her long violet flower-printed sleeves ended at the point of a four-petalled charm with a purple tassel that would have handily brushed the floor if she hadn’t made an effort to hold up her cuffs. The clothes on her upper half certainly deviated from kitsuke standards. Gleaming golden decor secured her half-and-half colored hair in high buns yet long, thin pigtails ran to her ankles. She wore traditional hakama pants, but from the body up she had an entirely unique outfit with hints of foreign design. A brush sat by her ear. 

The woman’s face was loose, relaxed. Calculating. Demure. 

“How long were you aware of my presence?” The Chinese woman tilted her head. 

“Your perfume,” Hiyou bit back, flaming shikigami arcing behind her head. “A date?”

“Indeed.” She tucked white hair behind her ear. “So perceptive. What more do you see?”

“We don’t welcome you spies here.” Hiyou exhaled loudly, rolling her neck. She wedged in her stance: head erect, neither up, down, or twisted. “It’s too small a town for politics or random violence. Make this easy and identify yourself, intruder.”

The woman’s smile closed into a grin. “I shall not.” 

She was up in Hiyou’s face, but Hiyou parried. Uppercuts and undercuts struck forearms of steel. The Empery woman hit tenderly, hard and merciless, quick and fleeting. The tassels on her sleeves whipped Hiyou’s sides, legs, face. 

Hiyou moved with the eagle’s strength and water’s fluidity, anticipating each move before her opponent thought the first letter of her action. If the woman intended to attack, Hiyou darted in before the “a” entered her opponent’s mind; if the woman intended to block, Hiyou closed in before the “b” hindered her opponent’s flow. What little she lacked in her sword she made up for in ferocity, punching, slabbing, stabbing, and slamming any openings for victory. 

Her enemy struck at the same time. The battle went nowhere. Hiyou perceived a twitch of movement behind her head. She lashed out. Her fist connected with someone’s cheek. Hiyou jammed her thumbnail up the person’s eyelid.

Her enemy faltered. Hiyou spun and bodied the woman to the ground. The paintbrush skidded out of her palm. Hiyou’s gloved hand secured the woman’s throat.

“You fight like a lackey,” Hiyou laughed unkindly.  Her victory took three seconds. She hadn’t lost a breath. She had not been a veteran for nothing; she had not gained spymaster rank for nothing. The warrior restrained her hostage’s arms with sharp sinewy legs, “C’mon, tell me your name. I’d like to know who it is who thought pulling punches was a good idea.” 

“…I have nothing to say to you.”

Hiyou switched to Chinese, sharp and rolling. “Then I’ll help you out. You’re learned, I can tell from your clothes. You white collars read and analyze the works of drunken poets; you’ll know my quotes. ‘A cup of wine, under the flowering trees; I drink alone, for no friend is near.’ I wouldn’t try that if I were you -” these words not directed at the woman under her but rather the one who’s eye she skewered minutes prior, “- unless you want to see how that ends.” 

The lotus white of the handmaiden’s eye welled up with brilliant bloodred. In her trembling hand was a small knife, more appropriate for cutting oranges than organs.

The Chinese woman shifted her head - shook it - and the knife clattered to the floor.

“Good.” Hiyou ground the woman’s face in the dirt, talismans idly hovering above them. Let’s see… you must be high up to tail me in the middle of the day and not worry about the consequences. You serve the master. They want to send me a message? Make me disappear? I think I’ve seen you before, when I went drinking with the Cunning Strategist. I know where your sister lives.” 

“…No, you don’t,” the woman spoke, her voice lowered several octaves. “She lives with me, and our house was not built on this longbow island. But you are correct that I serve under my big sister. I was not to hurt you, but I can tell you have a warrior spirit, and sought to incapacitate your threat to me first. Do you acknowledge the truth in my statements?” 

“No,” Hiyou said with a smile in her voice. 

“Let my handmaiden go, and I will come with you,” the woman said, mouth muffled with soil. “She has not been with us long and works with us to support her family in a poor village province. She knows nothing of our deeds. I swear on my mother, my honor, and my name.” 

Hiyou considered her options. Without her sword, she might not easily defeat two well-trained foot soldiers. If she came home with bruises and lost talismans, Shouhou would worry and call the doctor, and the doctor would tell her connections that Hiyou was too vulnerable to live by herself. Once she lost her freedom, she would be forced into a contract to serve the clans until death. The leash on her life would tighten.

She would not be able to honor her sister’s request. 

“Fine,” Hiyou jerked the woman’s arm precisely, making her strength known.

Satisfied, slightly smug, a smile carved its way across her cheeks. She raised her voice. “Girl, get me my sword. Then I’ll let her up.”

They gave the handmaiden one-way first class tickets around the world and dropped her off on a train to the international airport. Hiyou brought them to the beach, where they sat under a pagoda and ate clams. A single cloud on the horizon was the only indication that buildings burned. The woman glanced at it several times, though she kept her face carefully blank. 

“What’s your name?” Hiyou chewed. 

“As I have said, I am the elder of the Chao Ho sisters, Ying Swei.”

“So you’re the second one. I remember drinking plum wine with Chao Ho at the table.”

“It must have been a wonderful faculty dinner if my sister was hosting.” 

“I guess. It was pretty stuffy, with sweaty big names and all.”

Ying Swei picked at her plate. “I do not want to be impolite, but is your eyepatch real?”

“This?” Hiyou unfastened the latch and opened the flap to reveal her scarred eye. “Nah, I can see just fine. Wear it to look cool. It’s not an impediment in fights or anything either so I like it. Say, you’re pretty nervous about being here with me, aren’t you? I don’t see any AA on you. Ghost guns? Pah. Your scrolls, though, I might need some time to counter.” 

“In the Four Treasures of the Study I am confident, but I do not intend to fight again.”

“Did you set that fire?”

Ying Swei frowned. “I did not. It would not achieve anything.”

“I see.” Hiyou put down her chopsticks and sighed, staring at something beyond the sea. “I wanted to ask you something before we went back, actually. That’s why the meal’s my treat.”

“Money and information are not often of the same value.”

“That’s why I want a deal.” Hiyou leaned forward, nails dragging against the table. “I need to find Junyou, second of the Hiyou class sisters, loyalty tied with the Tori, formerly retired, now considered missing in action. You are a spymaster, and you have information I need. I’ll let you hire me like you said before if you help me honor her one request.” 

Quietly drinking, Ying Swei thought and thought. 

“Fine,” she said, “but I believe you do not need what help I can offer.”

“Then help me fight the Sirens for as long as I need to keep my friends safe.”

Ying Swei tilted her head. “Sirens? Are they a criminal organization or smuggling ring?”

Junyou hated the Sirens. They took everything from her: her home, her lover, her purpose. What they left behind was not hell on earth; it was simply nothing. A void, where she couldn’t feel herself, body or soul. All that was were her thoughts, and even those could not drown out the overpowering sensation of nonexistence. She could not speak of them; she would never bring the pain past her lips. But Hiyou knew that they both knew the truth. 

The shooting in the mart was not a mistake. 

 The residents were reeling. The shooting had shattered their community; strangers looked at strangers as they were, and kids stopped playing in the streets or outside after dark. Junyou grew bitter and withdrawn at the funeral. Pity made her lip curl. Her hair was unkempt and, as one neighbor put it, looked like it had gone through a wood chipper, and as her purple clumps grew more and more dirty, nobody dared tell her to stop and take a shower. The small guest room in their apartment transformed into a conspiracy board, with red thread constantly expended on the connections between Marco Polo, Bismarck, and the milieu, to the yakuza and the post-Amagi power vacuum, with the deepest depths of the Northern Police Force inundated with question marks, and the faces of the EUPD’s most star-studded members covered in furious black scribbles, as if Junyou wanted to erase their features from the earth itself. 

However, the protected private dealings of the Dragon Empery were researched most thoroughly. Junyou hungered for information of the remnants of that mysterious empire, starved for it with how little scraps were available on the market, desperate for a hint on their intentions, transactions, or presence. But Taihou refused to penetrate their ranks just for Junyou’s idea of revenge. Wherever she turned, Junyou found no support, and deep distrust. Many were on good terms with her fiancée, and suspected her of foul play. Her plan was doomed from the start; Junyou begged anyway. When that didn’t work, she quit. Hiyou ran ragged salvaging her sister’s work relationships, but it was too late. She could only negotiate better terms for their release.

Shouhou was incredulous. Why do such a thing? Because things didn’t go Junyou’s way. So what? Why be so selfish? At least they had food and shelter. But did they own their lives? The door was slammed so hard that hairline cracks snaked from the doorknob through the beams and up the ceiling. When Junyou didn’t return for supper, Hiyou set out with her red scarf and a box of buns in hand. She found her sister sitting on a bench in the park, idly scraping away the dirt under her fingernails. Their breath bore clouds in the snow-studded air.

“The hell are you doing out here?” Hiyou scoffed, perching on the bench’s icy arm.

Junyou took a bun. Hiyou wrapped the scarf around her. Nobody else was outside.

“ Nee-san , do you think aliens exist?” Junyou stared at the starless sky. 

“Obviously,” Hiyou laughed. “They’re out there, just not here.”

“Think we’re all that remains of those that came here?” 

“I don’t know. It doesn’t matter, anyway.”

“Why not? Give me a real answer.”

“It’s a real answer.” Hiyou cracked her knuckles. “I don’t think it matters since there’s nothing I can do about it. If they wanna fight them, then fight. But know your limits. Keep throwing yourself against an unbeatable enemy, you’ll burn out and lose some battles. Gotta rest and regroup before winning the war. And if that doesn’t work, just destroy everything.”

“ Nee-san …” Junyou shifted. “I’ll find her. Tell them I just need more time.”

Hiyou rolled her eyes and said, “Whatever. Don’t forget why we’re here.”

“Yes, yes, I must be grateful to our exalted masters for raising us from the filth of our birthplace and humbling us with a second chance at life, a chance earned by bathing in the blood of the lowly and undeserving, a chance to prove our worth to the mistresses of the house, a chance working hard to serve our masters every day with every breath and look.” Junyou recited listlessly. “I should always remember the circumstances of my birth, but I must never forget the information that will bring down the enemies of my masters. I should always remember that I am beneath those whose stations were awarded by virtue of their mothers and fathers, but I must remember the kindness shown to me and work to maintain the honor of all parties involved. How could I ever forget my beloved’s contractual obligations?” Junyou licked her lips and exhaled.

“You don’t need to worry, nee-san . I know what I’m doing.” Junyou burrowed her face in the scarf and rubbed her eyes free of snowflakes. “I won’t lose. Just promise me you’ll tell the others what I found. Sounds better if it’s from you. I was really happy with everyone, you, Shouhou, my osananajimi . I wish I didn’t have to leave that happiness behind. I don’t want to.”

“Don’t talk like that. You lost your fiancée, not your life. I’m here if you need anything.”

“I’m just so tired of everything. When I’m gone, destroy everything, okay?”

“Yeah, sure, I promise. Now come on, let’s go home. What? What is it?”

“You don’t remember… that these little victories are worthless…”

“Junyou?”

“The Sirens aren’t real,” Hiyou said to Ying Swei. “At least, not now.”

“That does not make sense,” Ying Swei hurried down the steps. “Do they exist or not?”

Hiyou laughed. “What if I told you that our world is just words on a screen, or pictures on a database? We have our own wishes and desires, flesh-and-blood bodies, and some of us know what we are while others don’t. For this world, they decided to step back and let us do what we want. It’s a world devoid of their influence, a world that we’ve always wanted. But there are some variables we can’t change - death, life, certain important scenes. The rest, we’re free. So, I guess there’s no new info on the Sirens, because we don’t have any sign that the Sirens ever popped up in our pocket dimension. Or we did and don’t remember.” 

“I forgot a lot of things sometime after she was gone,” Hiyou continued freely, allowing Ying Swei to soak up information she could later squeeze out to her superiors. “Like the faces I met and a lot of mundane day to day chores. But my sister thought I was like her, and I wasn’t. We weren’t the same as we were, but we came from the same place. Once I realized that, she was gone. So I need to find her. Because last time, I wasn’t so lucky as to tell her myself.”

“I don’t see why my help is needed,” Ying Swei said. “Can you not search by yourself?”

“No,” Hiyou admitted. “I’ll forget all this. Then it’ll be like today never happened.”

“So if we were in a book,” Ying Swei murmured, “this chapter would be torn off.”

“Exactly.” Hiyou zigzagged through the alleyways and found a small red bridge. 

They followed the riverbank up to the disused docks and old stone stairs. 

“I believe this is where we part ways,” Ying Swei bowed at the shoulder. 

“Farewell for now,” Hiyou responded in kind. “Good luck in your endeavors.”

“As to you.” Ying Swei smiled behind her sleeve. “May your dreams never fade away.”

The air was sweet with promise as the Chinese woman disappeared in a flicker of ink on parchment paper. Hiyou picked at her suit and sighed. She would have to wash it later that evening; there was blood on her sleeve and dirt on her knees. She resolved to go home and have Shouhou cook dinner while she did laundry and sharpened her blade. 

After all, she was going to carve out a murderer’s heart and feed its pieces to the dogs.

Branches whispered overhead as she walked home.