[IC] Yu Yu Hakusho [AU]

[Prince]

It was a regular Wednesday evening in Kuchikiroka. Streets were filled with a few buses and cars filled with students leaving their classes; the school was still filled with quite a few students involved in after-school affairs―extra-circular and otherwise. The winter semester was drawing to an end with just two weeks of class left before the three-week spring vacation, then back for its spring-summer semester. Most students were, around this time, putting in extra effort to classes that needed it or for competitions they were involved in. Of course, those were the students that actually gave a damn. A majority of the lower caste spent this time preparing drugs, sluts and the older gentlemen paying their way into high school parties that were sure to happen in a few weeks. Even a few of them did even less by simply fighting it out in the streets or working a part-time job to fund their weekends. Regardless of what the students were doing, none of it was specifically outstanding. Not yet.

† † †

"Sir, how long? Tampering with the mortal world plays with a... delicate balance."

"Don't worry, Botan. In two days, it'll all work out: they will die, their bodies will be safe and you will collect their souls."

"But, sir, the Reikai has never forced soul pairs to die just to reap them, much less a trio of them. You're breaking so many rules."

"Botan, I said don't worry. My father approved this and we need them. You know what has been happening to the Tantei-Kai."

"But a trio, sir? Taking three souls meant for one world... and the training... what if they don't even make it?"

"Botan, that's enough. The last Tantei-Trio held off an S-class demon with only one casualty. We don't even need that much power."

"Do you know who will accompany them? There could be dozens of casualties, souls tethered to th―

"―Botan, that's enough! Even if a hundred die here, these three could save our entire jurisdiction."

"A-Alright, sir! But, what about their Hands?"

"My father approved seven souls for me to use, if need be. Any more will be too much paperwork."

"Could we have more, sir?"

"I'm sure we could have hundreds before truly upsetting the balance, but it would take an eon just to finish the paperwork."

"I remember when the Reikai never had so much paperwork..."

"Heh. I remember when we only thought there was the Reikai, Botan. Nevertheless, I have matters to attend to. Watch close."

† † †

[Mirth]

It was late afternoon, almost four o’clock. The cat sat at the front gate, swishing his long tail and watching the double doors. Any moment now, his girl would emerge, stride across the lawn, and give him a pet. He squinted in the anticipation of happiness.

Soft orange light gleamed across the cat’s sleek, striped fur and splashed to the ground all around him; he cast no discernible shadow. Students from the elementary and middle schools passed along the sidewalk behind him without sparing a glance. No one even looked down at him. A little girl’s foot passed directly through his haunches without stirring a hair. Even when he began to purr, no one stopped to see him. The cat did not care. The only human who mattered was still inside the building he watched.

The doors swung open suddenly, shoved with great force, and the cat’s ears twitched, but the humans who appeared were not his girl. He was only disappointed for a moment before he returned to his blissful vigil. The next time the door opened it would be her, he was certain of it.

Again and again the doors opened, but the girl was not among the throngs of students leaving after-school clubs or cleaning duties. The cat continued to wait, his tail swinging absently back and forth.

Finally, as the sun blazed to the horizon and the orange light grew red, his girl appeared. He saw her face for a flash in a second-story window, her hair catching the light, and a minute later she was outside, tugging a sleeve down. She lifted her eyes and spotted the cat immediately; she walked towards him. “Hey, Mochi-Mochi,” she said as she crouched to ruffle the fur between his ears. He melted with joy, purring and kneading his insubstantial claws against the cement. “Who’s a good kitty?” The girl scratched the underside of his chin and his purrs grew louder.

“That’s Ikino, right? What… What the hell’s she doing?” Across the street, a pair of other high school students had stopped to talk; one of them was staring at the girl who rapturously petted air. They were not in her class, or they would have recognized her instantly.

“No clue. Leave her alone, though. She threw a desk at the last guy who said something to her,” the other student said, slanting a quick look at Ikino to make sure she wasn’t hearing anything. “Sarezawa’s his name. He says she almost chased him out of class throwing shit. What a bitch.”

“Her or Sarezawa?”

“Both.” The two laughed at that and turned away from Ikino, who continued petting the cat they couldn’t see. She hadn’t heard their conversation, but if she had, she would have let it go. Sarezawa had picked a fight, had purposefully tried to hurt her, and she had dealt with him. She didn’t have time to deal with the ones who talked behind her back, just the ones that were stupid enough to talk to her face.

Mochi patted her leg with his paw. As the dark closed in, Ikino got up and headed towards the cemetery, the ghost cat trotting along beside her. He could float, if he wanted, but he preferred walking.

[Unlucky0013]

Wednesday was grocery day for the Smiths. Not that they needed much to last a week as their house remained vacant for most of every day. Even so, Hitashi headed straight to the store for the usual instant noodles and some ground beef. As usual, the odd pedestrian or two would hesitate and stare at him as he passed by, bewildered by his ginger hair. One would think they would be a little more used to it by now, but Hitashi never really cared or even took notice. The only thing ever on his mind on wednesday afternoons was the journey to and from the store.

The door slid open and Hitashi entered the small convenience store. He quickly gathered up the week's supply of beef and noodles and reached the counter where the same old man has served him for the past 4 years. Before then, Hitashi went to a much larger store until they banned him from rummaging through another customer's bags during checkout. He didn't mean anything by it, just curious was all.

"Ah, welcome back Mr. Smith! I don't suppose I can interest you in some eel or rice? We also have some fresh baked bread if you're interested." The old man didn't expect an answer as he was used to the boy's silence and just watched as Hitashi placed down exact change for the food on the counter. "Well, come back again. And take care!"

And with that, the door slid open and Hitashi stepped out on his way home. He made it about half way before he noticed a girl and a cat crossed his path. His curiosity normally would've gotten the better of him, but he was still focused on returning back home with the groceries. This did, however open his eyes more to the world around him for the time being. So much so, that he became focused on the way some bullies were picking on another kid about his own age. This really did pique his interest. He didn't really care what happened to the boy, but the fact that they were against the kid three to one made it interesting. Getting comfortable, Hitashi simply dropped his bags, making them crash into the concrete below. This startled the three bullies and they turned, guarded and fists drawn.

This was all Hitashi needed. As soon as the challenge for a fight appeared, He was fully focused and ready to strike. A mere second latter, Hitiashi's right-hand fist went slamming into the middle bully's forehead, knocking him out cold and leaving a nasty bruise. This put the other two a bit astonished causing them both to flail wildly into Hitashi. Hitashi immediately hid his face in his arms, blocking most of the important shots to his face. Other powerful shots did manage to hit other places such as his guts, ribs, and back causing bruises to appear almost instantaneously. Hitashi retaliates by kicking one guy in the stomach and with a loud crack, he could tell he hurt the guy's ribs. Probably not broken, but hurt none the less. The last guy obviously heard it too as he disappeared down the road, screaming.

[Prince]

BZZT

A few of the idiots around Ikino were getting texts simultaneously and all merited the same reaction: sheer aggression. Each one of the high school guys that checked their phones began to run off swearing while Mochi changed his attitude and turned towards them instead, derailing the path to the cemetery. Much like a scared cat in a corner, Mochi hissed viciously as his hair stood on end and he began to radiate an eerie aura of seemingly defensive instincts. Before Ikino could do a whole lot about it or even try to soothe the phantom feline, he darted off after the boys.

It wasn't more than a few moments later that Hitashi was surrounded by even more thugs than before. And, that's what they were this time. Thugs. These weren't your average high school bullies or punks that got their kicks from torturing a few kids smaller than them, these were thugs on a mission. The kids Hitashi just beat the shit out of were initiates into their gang and they ran the neighborhood Hitashi was in. The 'last guy' that ran off from earlier was now frantically pointing at Hitashi and screaming, "THAT'S THE MOTHER FUCKER THAT GOT US, BOSS!" There was no honor among these people, either. Almost twenty kids, including a few that were just insulting Ikino, surrounded Hitashi with all the intent in the world to beat him half to death and possibly the other half, too. There was no mercy in their eyes and the only humanity one could see was the pathetic, drug-filled eyes of a junkie whose only bravery came from a pack mentality.

As soon as the largest looking kid among these thugs was about to talk, a few of them were pelted with rocks big enough to crack the skulls. As if these thugs were nothing more than a hive mind, they all looked in the direction of the stones at the same time only to realize that they were falling down off a roof by what seemed like a makeshift hammock-trap. Meanwhile, none other than Ibuki - no less than a street vigilante around this time of year - cracked two of these kids skulls together, then grabbed the throat of the biggest one of them. Literally choking the life out of this kid, he looked back to Hitashi and told him, "You can't let them run off. You have to beat them all to an inch of their lives so that they know you could have taken the last inch." Ibuki then lifted his entire arm and applied pressure not just to the thugs windpipe, but his carotid arteries. "If little punk bitches like these know the difference between their last breath and their next is a bad day on your part, they won't ever fuck with you again."

And, just like a back of wild dogs whom were all being watched now by the phantom feline Mochi who felt the malicious presence within them. While Ibuki, whom at this point seemed just as nefarious as the rest of them, held their leader by his throat as if to squeeze the very life from him, the entire group waited as if only useful upon instruction. It wasn't until a few of these punks were backing off that what felt like a wave of mal-intent poured over them - one that Ibuki, Ikino and Hitash could all feel - that they jumped back into the fray, save the few with cracked and bleeding skulls from the downpour of stones. Aside from their leader, fifteen or so punks now made it their business to beat down Ibuki and Hitashi.

[Unlucky0013]

The placed swarmed with people in an instant. Hitahi could tell that they didn't have any good intentions either. These people were brainless husks who could, actually, probably actually kill him. He didn't care though. he just couldn't let that happen. He prepared a little before the fight came, centering his focus and stretching the spots that were a little sore. Then out of nowhere, it started raining rocks. As a few of the stones cracked their stones, Hitashi looked back to see where this turn of events were coming from and who was about to interrupt his fight. He didn't take much detail of him, being more focus on the enemies at hand, but he did get a good look at the new comer as he started choking away the poor husk's life. Hitashi would have to admit that he was taken back a little. A fight was ok, but death seemed a little extreme. None the less, he knew that the real fight was about to begin, ready or not.

"Heh, welcome to the fight." Hitashi said quietly. He didn't care if the black-haired fiend heard him or not. "Just take care of your half," he said in the same small tone this time with a small sigh.This had turned into a bigger fight than he had expected. They didn't start out small either. He could see five of the punks headed straight for them now. Without wasting a second, Hitashi hid his head behind his right arm as his left fist went straight for the first one in the line. To his unpleasant surprise, his attack missed. His opponent skillfully dodged his attack and countered with an uppercut to his guts. This hurt like hell and even sent him flying back a few feet to land on his back gasping for breath. He was awestruck. Never has he been sent flying or hit with such force. The first thing he had to do was git back on his feet. Springing back, he corrected his posture ready to block or dodge as needed. The five punks had him surrounded there was no way to dodge now. Hitashi hid his head in both of his arms and charged a full on tackle at one of the guys knocking him to the ground. The others were in pursuit, ready to punch the living daylights out of him. Hitashi quickly brought the guy he just tackled to his feet and twisted his arm behind his back to immobilize him. This guy was now his shield, battering ram, and decoy all in one. Hitashi bashed his hostage into the other punks and followed up with a kick to their guts, immediately pulling back and using the hostage as a shiled before picking a new target.

That isn't to say he never got hit. He did, a lot; and it hurt, a lot. His bruises were getting bigger and bigger and a deeper almost black color as they began to spread across his body. More and more punches and kicks landed, some causing bruises to become actual cuts, spilling blood and causing more exhaustion. Toward the end of his battle with the five punks that had attacked him, he was barely standing, but able to move on. He was sure the guy he used as a hostage was dead, and died mid-battle as he no longer seemed to flinch or struggle, so he tossed him aside and caught a small breather, looking to see how his friend was holding up.

[KiltmanBagz]

Paul Ito had left his home a few hours ago, shortly after completing any school work that he had. He did this most Wednesdays, because of the Wednesday night church services his dad held. With their home attached right to the tiny church just about any noise from any activity from within the echo-y halls of the holy place bleed rather annoyingly and un-ignorably into the living area. So out he was, a bit earlier than normal even. His father managed to get a whole 10 people in the church tonight which made the hymens they particularly discordant and unbearable.

While other kids who were getting out of the house may search for the friends to hand with, Paul tended to wander alone on nights like this. He didn't really run with any one crowed or hang with a certain clique. While Paul looked a bit like a punk, with his bleached hair and the poor attitude apparent in his posture, he was actually far from it. Both were more symptoms of rebellion against his father and done to spite the old man. Looking like trouble but not actually being trouble also gave him a pleasant middle ground in life, where punks tended to look past him or view him comically and normal people tended to regard him as amusing knowing how harmless he was. This made him the class clown, and he was more or less fine with that. He had a handful of people he'd be willing to call friends, but even then he knew they were more like mildly close aquatics. He'd never invite them over or had been invited over to their homes, rarely even invited to after school events. He was the Class clown, so much of the commodore he found was simply there, in class.

He honestly tried not to think about it and just enjoy the night. Though that wasn't really going all that well. He felt funny, sort of off. As if he was walking by something that smelt unspeakably bad as to turn ones stomach, despite the absence of any actual smells.

He turned the corner and froze in his tracks at what he saw. A group of people clearly ganging up on three individuals. He could count how many were in the small mob exactly with the chaos going on, but it was clearly 3 versus many and it was not going well. He frozen transfixed by the sight, He felt the sensation he had felt earlier but only more intense and stomach churning, though he figured that was the fear of being the next target for this angry mob setting in.

While he didn't recognize one of the 3, he could identify they were students at his high school, though know one he really knew. Mearly faces he had seen in halls or at events. His mind told him to run, or call the police, and small insane part of him told him to try and find a pipe or a piece of wood and charge the mob swinging. But something told him that none of those actions, especially the last one, would do him again good. And yet he HAD to help them. He would not call himself brave, but nor would he call himself so cruel as to turn a blind eye to people getting beaten to death, especially ones his own age. He thought hard, frantically, his heart racing and his hands tightening into fists; he had to do something and quick.

All the sudden the odd, unpleasant feeling was different in a way he could not quite explain. He felt it had a source, and that it was somehow responsible for what was happening before him. It was supernatural, vile, and malicious. It was unlike anything he had felt before, not even when he had been a 'healer' at the church as a youth where he had never sensed anything. Though somehow he didn't exactly feel as if this was him sensing this, not really. It felt more like...it was being shown to him; like someone just pointed out the hidden picture in mosaic that you didn't see before, and would likely have trouble seeing once they stopped pointing at it. And somehow he knew he must follow this lead to the source of the sensation, it was the only way he could help right now. And so he ran, letting his feet take him where he needed to go.

[Mirth]

The girl who strode into the middle of the fight threw an elbow that knocked a thug flat, her blue eyes narrowed to slits. She spun, long hair flashing in the sunset, to crash her bag across another boy’s face. Having made a sufficiently-sized clearing for herself, she turned to face the rest of the gang. “WHAT are you ignorant twats doing?!”

Mizuki Ikino was taller than most students in her year, casting an imposingly long shadow as Mochi bounded over to her. With a leap, the cat sailed onto her shoulders, glowing yellow eyes eerie in his grey-striped face as he studied the boys under attack and their assailants. His tail twitched and he tilted his head, letting out an unnatural meow that seemed to echo. Mizuki reached up and stroked his head, her attention fixed on the dwindling group of thugs. After a beat of silence, she glanced over her shoulder at the two boys— one was badly injured already, but the other one had taken only a few blows. Mizuki’s hand tightened around the handle of her school briefcase, her knuckles blanching.

Mochi had been drawn to this street fight for a reason, she could see that now. The thuggish delinquents radiated a malice that was far from human. She wasn’t frightened, however, having spent her entire life in the company of the uncanny; she had been born with a highly-developed sixth sense. Her childhood was a roadmap of the supernatural. Now her brain was furiously pinging that the boys were wrong, that there was something incredibly cruel and evil about them.

The reprieve had been short and they regrouped for another assault.

Mizuki stepped into a swing that broke a forerunner’s nose; blood sprayed. A hand grabbed her arm and squeezed until she felt her bones creak. Mochi flew at the hand’s owner, clawing and yowling. A wild punch caught her high, glancing off her forehead. She slammed a palm into the elbow, using her other hand to apply counter-pressure on the inside of the forearm. The crunch was loud, even in the cacophony of the melee. Backing up to sweep her hair out of her eyes, somebody wrapped an arm around her throat from behind—they were shorter than she was, so she was forced to bend backwards—and she slammed her heel into their foot, swung her head forward, and then jerked it back into their face.

Mochi screeched in pain.

Mizuki screamed and charged blind for the sound. She caught the boy holding her cat by the throat around the chest and smashed him to the ground; she straddled him and drilled her fist into him wherever she could reach. Another boy tried to haul her off and she sank her teeth into his arm until he let go, blood dripping down his hand. Someone started trying to kick her in the sides, so she pushed off the bastard under her, stomped him in the crotch, and launched into the new one. She was all but snarling, her hair wild, her skirt torn, as she flung him against a nearby wall and kneed him repeatedly in the groin.

Somewhere in the back of her mind she wondered why she had gotten into this fight. Mochi had led her here, but she could have picked him up and carried him away. What made her so keen to fight? Why was she spoiling for it? She didn’t know the other two she was fighting beside from a hole in the wall.

The boy she was still kneeing shoved her away and she stumbled, skinning her leg on the concrete. He came in for a soccer kick to her abdomen and she let it land, swallowing down the pain and grabbing his ankle to unbalance him.

[Prince]

Ibuki was easily capable of throwing the weight of the pack leader he held by the throat. Strength was not something he lacked nor something he would hold back from using in a situation like this. When the wave of malice poured over and into the rest of the pack, it only enraged and empowered Ibuki even further. Unlike the others, he fed off this energy the same way the pack did. Fists that were thrown at him were either dodged or taken with little more than a bulge. He caught arms and snapped their bones before throwing the weight of these grunts around. Ibuki was not completely ignorant of those fighting with him, either. He launched those whom he caught like projectiles, knocking a few memberss away from Hitachi and even placed himself close by Mizuki; part of him feared this girl would get overwhelmed if left to herself. Although bruised and beaten, Ibuki was in far better shape than the majority of his current companions.

Although it seemed like an impossible task, the group was winning. As the fight went on, the sheer physical strength of three - especially Hitashi and Mizuki - seemed to grow and in a large enough quantity that they most likely noticed. The bleeding bruises and deep gashed left by the thugs quickly lessened in pain and even lightened in hue as the fight went on. It may not have made sense, but the longer they fought these few, the easier it was. More and more of these punks went down, dead or alive, broken and bloody, and it only made it easier on the empowered youths. By the time the fray had thinned, the leader Ibuki had by the throat was gone. There were only a handful left; not even enough to surround the trio. Now, facing their targets head on, the atmosphere had changed. Whatever the group was left wondering beforehand was most likely multiplied twice over.

‡ ‡ ‡

"A tantei-duo is truly impressive. Their spiritual presence nearly tripled at its highest here."

"I know. His bruises are already healing and that kick should have broke two ribs. Neither have any training; it's all natural."

"How much more powerful will it be when it's a trio, Ishumara-sama?"

"The legend is that their reiki will multiply tenfold. If this is a duo, a complete circuit might make that legend true."

"If Koenma has these runts trained by the grandmasters..."

"We can't assault the Reikai so quickly. They still have dozens of detectives and if they knew I was alive, my death would be their greatest priority."

"Would they risk the balance for you?"

"Lord Enma did last time. Watch closely, though. Jyaki knows he can't win. That kid fed off his power and the one that ran could have purified him like Hellfire..."

"...are you saying they were brought here, too?"

"Biki, Koenma has done this for hundreds of years. I am sure those two will be Hands. He knows he's being watched, too. That's why he's keeping the third hidden."

"What are we to do?"

"It won't be long. Tell Shibimura and the others to be ready. When these kids die, we will raid the vault."

"But what of the trio?"

"I am the only one of us that can traverse the Ningenkai, and I cannot risk being caught yet. We will wait..."

‡ ‡ ‡

The thugs left standing began to run. Their leader was gone out of sight and those that seemed unconscious, dead or even just had broken, bleeding limbs rose ominously to run with them. Like a pack of beaten dogs failing to kill a few lions, these animals fled and fled fast. Their ability to rise and seeming act in unison without any noticeable form of communication seemed inhuman, but to the battered group it was most likely ignored. What these kids were left with was each other, and Paul Ito whom had ran off on his own. It was apparent now that each one felt stronger and more energized in the presence of the others in a fashion similar to working a long shift on caffeine and not noticing its effects until it the shift had ended. The same energy detracted from the pain and bruises that should have left blood boils seemed only to be light. In this singular moment, the reality that this was unreal was sinking it.

But, it was over. Mochi returned to her post beside Mizuki, but this time she wasn't the only individual that could see him ― they all could.

"If you don' know me, I'm Kurohana Ibuki," he said as he introduced himself and adjusted his rustled tie.
"How'd you piss them off?"

[Unlucky0013]

"Tch, Hitashi Smith." He replied, sounding as hysterical as one could get. This day has took more of a toll on him than he was ready for, but he was feeling better now that the fight was over. Hitashi sorta blew off the latter question with a shrug and a sigh. There was too many other attention grabbers than to answer a single unimportant question. First being the black-haired fiend that showed up unannounced. Who was he, other than a guy now known as Kurohana Ibuki? This guy just randomly shows up to fight for a guy that is outnumbered; then more so, finishes the battle in far better shape than he'd think possible given the circumstances. Hitashi had half a mind to fight him right now to see what this stranger was really made of. This really was more than just half a mind to do so, but he knew that in his current state he would fall flat from the first punch out of sheer exhaustion.

The next, and probably most puzzling, thing grabbing Hitashi's attention was the addition of a girl to the fight. She was more of a mystery from lack of knowledge than downright outstanding or noticeable. As far as he knew, girls didn't fight except each other. Of course, it wasn't that he cared about that more so than when did she get here and why was she fighting? This obviously wasn't her fight to begin with, and normal people don't just jump into random fights for the thrill of it. Hitashi didn't know her nor did he really plan to, but he would at least giver her the time of day, so to speak, should it come down with to some sort of interaction with her. The cat wasn't a bad addition of her image either, if he got down to it.

So what brought you to my fight, Mr Ibuki?" Hitashi finally asked after a second or so to calm down. "It's not like you had much reason to help a red-headed american such as myself. And you're a bit too well dressed for this to be a hobby of yours. I mean, a tie isn't much of a casual accessory." He joked, still feeling a bit hysterical. Speaking of attire, this made Hitahi take notice of his own. His pants were dirty and his shoes were scuffed. Various holes and red stains scattered thought his shirt and jacket making them no longer suitable to be worn out in public. He decided to adjust his schedule accordingly, making a special trip to the store either tomorrow or the next day. His pants would have to be sent to the tailors.

[KiltmanBagz]

The further he walked from the group, the less clearly he felt the guiding force. But it seemed to hold out long enough for him to be hiding nearby where the group of defeated thugs had gathered. They moved unnaturally, some of them clearly supporting themselves on broken limbs or hardly at all as if they were puppets being held aloft by invisible strings. The sight of it was enough to turn Ito's stomach a bit. Partially in fear and partially in disgust. Something weird was clearly going on.

He figured he could rule out drugs, as he doubted even the most potent of narcotics could produce the effect he was seeing before him. It was truly skin crawling, like a sight out of a horror movie. If it were the subtle movement of their chests from slow-unsteady breaths, He'd swear he was looking at the walking dead. Though a few of them he wasn't so sure he could see them breathing at all, and that really gave him the shivers.

Now that he was hear that sense of knowing and seeing was almost totally gone. It felt more like a memory, and a vague one at that. Why had he been so stupid as the follow something like a feeling? Why hadn't he called the police, or picked up a pipe or something and tried to help like that? How was running away and finding the group of thugs ALONE when he wasn't exactly much of a fighter going to help anyone. It really seemed like it would get him killed honestly. He cursed his stupidity, but the fact that whatever that feeling was had actually lead him to the spot where the thugs had gone to post roughhousing had to mean something right? Or was he simple that unlucky.

As he half begged to no one in particular what he should do next, One of the figures stood out to him. It wasn't standing moving quite like the others were. It was moving much more like a normal person. Not perfectly like a normal person, but not something that would get weird looks when they made their way down the street. The feeling, now barely a whisper in his ear compared to the loud pull at his core it once was, told him that person was the center of this madness. But what was he to do about it?

'Smite the wicked, in the name of justice' the whisper said, but for a split moment it was that loud, overwhelming feeling again. And thought it was only for a second, it was enough to push Paul Ito into movement. He dived from his hiding place towards the leader of the group reaching out place both of his hands about the man's face; intending to grab hold as hard as he could and not let go and hope against hope that he didn't get beaten to death.

[Mirth]

Mizuki overbalanced the boy, shoving him back, and sprang to her feet. Her side was blazing with pain, agony bolting through her ribs as she tossed her hair back and lunged again. Mochi was beside her, clawing and yowling like a miniature tiger. If she had been thinking—and at this point she wasn’t—she would have thought how happy she was that Mochi was with her. Dangerous situation or not, there was no one in the world she would rather face this battle with. Sucking in a breath, she bared her teeth.

The blows were coming slower now and farther between as the crowd thinned and the beaten fell. Mizuki was squaring off with two foes, neither of which seemed keen on getting close. They were dodging back and forth, looking for openings, but she had managed to work them into a narrow space between a tall dumpster and a boarded-up shop. Her fingers twitched and she stepped into a punch that the thug wove under and the momentum carried her shoulder into his teeth. Stunned, he dropped back, as Mizuki turned on the remainder. The shoulder hadn’t been intentional, but it had worked and that was all that mattered.

Mochi sank his needle-sharp teeth into the boy’s leg. The boy tried to kick him away; after a few attempts he managed to knock the ghostly cat away. Mizuki had advanced in the intervening seconds, wrapping both hands firmly around the boy’s throat and ramming his back into the concrete wall. She shoved, hard, then pulled him back and smashed him into the wall again. He dropped limply to the ground.

The girl and the cat backed off, forming a rough triangle with the redhead and the dark-haired boy. Mochi, perched on Mizuki’s shoulder, pushed his head against her ear. He could sense the end of the melee, even as the assailants stumbled to their feet and lurched away at an unsteady pace. Eyes slitted, Mizuki watched them go. She made no move to follow.

At some point in the fight her wounds had begun to throb less, had gone from bursts of knife-edged pain to muted pulses of discomfort. She felt under her uniform for the ribs she knew she had broken—her fingers froze mid-probe. There was no fracture. She had felt the bone give way and had resigned herself to a trip to the hospital. Brows knit, Mizuki removed her hand and turned to her impromptu allies.

The boy with the slick black hair introduced himself as Kurohana Ibuki. As far as Mizuki remembered, he went to her school, but she wasn’t certain if he was in her class. The other boy, Hitashi Smith, seemed leery of Kurohana.

The silence stretched on for a beat before she cleared her throat. “My name is Ikino Mizuki.”