Phoe

Breathless Dead

The world is drowning in blood.

Iron tang and velvet notes of warm quivering meat; sweeter than the richest wines in all of Empire. Intoxicating. Terror sweats and the shit smelling foulness of war linger on her tongue after every breath. Flowers, ruptured organs and the overwhelming immediate smell of rot the punctuates their bursting, the dusty aroma of packed wet sand, sickly sweet sap from branches snapped in two and oozing with parasitic infection. Every fresh scent carries through her body and builds excitement for her next breath, so they can wash over her again.

She shivers. They come at her in waves, now. Alcedi ranks like clouds of feathers carried on a storm of violence. They break against a rock named XIII. Soft, even lazy swipes of her claws trace across the silver lines holding them together, and they burst apart like balls of confetti. Fresh blood, fresh excrement, fresh rot, fresh flowers for fresh graves. Tiny names grow cool against her skin and pull sweet sighs from her lips.

Her body sings. She walks forward on unhurried feet, rising out of the crater she built with her own hands. Soldiers scatter like petals kicked up by the breeze of her stomping feet, more afraid of her again than any of the twin cruelties of Ares and Athena. Mother's garden surges and winds around her; ivy around a trellis. She is careful when she trims the bonsai: do not smash the roots, but trim off useless and unseemly limbs that this temple of death might grow more beautiful.

She turns her head to the heavens and beholds a pair of falling stars. Her blood quickens at the sight. The names itch to the point of rawness. So close. So close now. Perhaps she will drink from them when they die. A memory flitters to the front of her eye and up across the surface of her mind. Drink is a reward. An indulgence meant for good girls. A favorite treat. Yes. She will put her teeth to their necks and suck them dry. This is the meaning of her heart shivers.

Pink steam hisses from her palms where the blood of her targets drips across the absurd heat of her body. She lifts a hand to her face, and turns it over curiously. Her rough tongue drags across the rigid surface of her armor, her claws, and the unctuous taste of blood fills every last space of her conscious mind.

There is only the flavor. Richer than the galaxy is wide. Sweeter than ambrosia. Cool and refreshing. The battlefield quiets, to listen to the sounds. Slurping. Sucking. Slobbering. Singing. Sighing.

She is come, Vasilia. She is come, Dolce. You are broken, and she is whole. And she is here. No fury in her eyes, no smile on her lips. When she raises her claws to you, it could almost seem a greeting if they didn't still hiss and drip with the smeared blood of your comrades, and the oozing sap of hers. Her tail flicks once. Twice.

Whatever your desperate dancing and sacrifices have bought for you, now is the time to pay it out. Pay another price, and take your best shot.

Sunshards

I'm falling. Or at least, I should be. I really, really oughta be. I can't, I can't, sheesh. I can't stand up anymore. My legs won't hold me. But. But. But here I am on my feet. 'Cause I'm being held up by the strongest, softest, most loving arms in the whole wide world.

I can't breathe. Oh gosh. Oh no. I can't. I can't stop crying. I can't. I'm. The sounds I'm making are so ugly it hurts. I can't tell if I'm gonna throw up or if that's just what my voice sounds like forever now. It's so bad I'm starting to hiccup. I can't move except to bury my face in her shoulder and just, just, stay there forever. It's as warm as I remember. She's just like I remember, except for that scar. How did I not notice?! I woulda done everything so different if I knew! Sis! Sis! Sis, Sis, Sis, Sis!!

"Wh-wh-who's a dummy, dummy?! You're the! You're so! So!" I pound her back with my fist and I wouldn't care if it hurt her or not except I'm shaking so hard I can't put anything into it, and I'm still hugging her anyway so I don't know if she even notices, "You jerk. I wanted to see it! Where's the second health bar you promised me? You're such a liar. You're... you..."

I'm cut off by another wave of sobbing, only this time I feel her shaking while she's holding me and I know it's got her too. And that's why I can't be mad. I couldn't even if I hadn't seen that look on her face when the mask came off, 'cause this crying's the proof that she still loves me. She left when I was getting good and grown up and we haven't seen or heard from each other hardly in years, but she loves me. I love her. You don't cry if you don't care, remember? Of course you, I, uh. Um. Y-yeah. Yeah. Snnnffffrrrrrrk.

I have to pull away now. I have to stop hugging her. I have to even though it's impossible 'cause if I don't she can't see how much I'm smiling. And besides, I wanna, I wanna, I have to see her too! It's been so long, how'm I supposed to make do with only looking at her sleeve and the bit where it meets her neck? Nuh uh! Nuh uh, I say! That's my big sister! My big sister's a princess! My big sister's a princess!

...My big sister's a princess?!?

Suddenly she's not enough to hold me up anymore. Suddenly I'm dragging her down to the floor. Suddenly we're both on our knees, and laughing until we choke, like we used to when one of us would tell a stupid joke over tea. Like we did when we were kids. Like we did when we were together. Oh my gosh, my big sister. Who loves the city more than anything, and always knows the words to every song. Who tried her best to teach me so much, even though I never could seem to keep up.

"Oh gosh darn it, excuse me," I manage through fresh titters and a new wave of blushing, "No wonder I look so amazing. It's you, isn't it? You picked out my clothes for me again!"

Sis looks at me and laughs, and it's as much a melody as I remember it from before. She's got a way about her that always makes her seem like she's about to burst into song, even though she almost never does. It's how she carries herself, I guess. Those careful little breaths she always makes, like she needs to disguise it so you won't hear her on a stage or whatever. The way she moves, 'cause there's such a rhythm to it I always think there's some secret beat that only she can hear following her around everywhere. And maybe there is. Or maybe it's more like this. Maybe all this time I missed how much she practices everything, and the stuff I thought was Big Sis Magic was really her workin' her butt off so she could keep bein' the center of somebody's world.

Do you have a sister, too? There's so much about you I don't know, come to think. Big or little, doesn't matter. A brother's fine too. It's just, there's a special thing that happens when your family loves you, and in especial the part of your family that you grew up with, and that grew up with you. Adults who were always adults to you don't have it, and people who only turned special in your life later on have to get lucky to find it. There's a, a, a thing when you hug a sister where your entire world turns into this thing of candlelight, soft blankets, and memories that come rushin' in from every corner of your life.

It's, like, for me it feels the most like sneakin' outta the house late late late at night to watch the moon somewhere we could watch her dance and sing songs to her loud enough for her to hear them without wakin' Gran Gran. A warm, muggy summer night with cicadas chirpin' their hellos and a basket full've breads and dumplings and popcorn that was only mostly burned. And, 'cause all the songs a girl could sing to the moon were about drinkin', we had our own special 'wine'. Nobody'd sell somethin' that rare and sophisti-grown up to a pair of giggly sillyheads, but if you stirred warm cola into grape juice it seemed about the same. We were pretty sure, anyway.

It's that. It's all of that. It's more than I've got words to tell you. When I'm in her arms, when she's in mine, the world shrinks all the way back to the paths and steps we walked together. I can taste it on my fingertips, if you catch my meanin'. I can't bring myself to ask her why she left. I can't bring myself to ask if all've this around us here was worth not havin' me around. I can't bring myself to ask her if she worried about me, and if she did then why didn't she come visit? I can't bring myself to ask her why it took me cutting my own heartache with a sword to put us in the same room again.

I can't, 'cause I don't care. I've got my answers in the feeling of char on my lips. The soreness of my arms and legs. The warmth of her body and the strength she still uses to hold me close. The smell of sweat and the little zap of electricity that's all around us. She's here. She's here. I'm here too. We're together, and it's like no time's passed between us at all.

We pull apart at long last. Every hug has an ending, sad as it is to say. My smile's giddy and foxy-mischief silly all at once. Ahhh, I just wanna flop over and take a nap. But if I close my eyes, I'll miss Hyra's picnic. I'll miss all the little things I was runnin' away from, though now that I'm here I can't really remember what was so scary about 'em to begin with. Besides, what kind of a good-for-nothing frizzy-brained sillymuffin would I be if I didn't stay awake long enough to take my sister to meet my g i r l f r i e n d ? ? ?

"Hey," I say for no reason but to talk, "Did you know that Princess Chen is scared of you? You're, like, the only one she doesn't know how to handle. How's that make you feel, Sis?"

Sunshards

I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks. My eyes open a bit wider than usual without me telling them to, and I can feel my jaw start to clench in that way it always does just before I wind up gasping. Which, of course, I do right after. I must be pinker than a rose finch right now; I've never been so embarrassed in my entire life.

"I! Well, I! Um! S-s... Sorry. I d-didn't, didn't know!"

It's true, y'know. I had no idea about masks in duels. And it's not that it's embarrassing to not know something, but like, now that she's said it this feels like the sorta thing I shoulda been able to put together on my own without being told first. Wasn't that just the way Yin's knights worked? Sure it was a suit of armor and not a mask but... yeah. Take off the costume, and then the fight changes instead of ending. I'm so silly. I'm just a big... sillyhead!

I feel Princess Kikil's arm tense up and her gladius, and when she swings to push me away from her I lean into the energy and let her toss me clear across the room with the prettiest flip I can manage, by way of making up for my blunder. Just a little bit, at least. I dunno why I'm so flustered by the idea of disappointing this girl. I just met her, even if she is a princess. But I, y'know, I just do. Disappointing her feels like a knife in my stomach would. I guess it's 'cause she went to all this effort for me, so we could do this dance together. And here I am screwing it up for both of us. Gosh, how would I have felt if I noticed Chen was taking it easy on me?

Straight away all I want to do is jump in and fix my mistake. All I've gotta do is rush back into her zone and knock away that mask! Then I'll learn who she is and see her smile! And I'll smile back and no matter what face I see I promise I'll act the most surprised anybody's ever seen. She's right. 'Course she's right. You have to earn people's ultimate moves. And I can do this! I, I could do this. I proved it once already. But now her guard's back up. Now that gun's trained on me with a pro's steady aim and I'm out of tables to boot. Her zone's enormous, and I'm reduced to tumbling. Backwards, even.

Ah. That's always my problem, isn't it? My form is solid. My technique's sharp. My instincts are plenty decent, I guess, and I'm quick enough to catch Kat at bath time. I've got an ultimate technique, same as her. As good as Qiu's, please and thank you very much. Lemme have this. But I don't have what I need the most. That's why I always lose. That's why I hurt Princess Kikil's feelings just now. That's why I'm starting to tremble like a leaf in the autumn breeze. I'm about to disappoint her. I'm about to show her that I'm not wonderful at all, once you get right down to it.

I don't have a finishing move.

I get to this part of a fight and I just, like, run out of ideas. Y'know? Even now my brain is just flailing around trying to come up with something cool enough to fit. A straight thrust? Who's gonna wanna get hit by that? Qiu had a bajillion of these but I'll be darned if I can remember any of 'em. All I really remember about that part of that duel is scrambling like mad to not get turned into a pancake. Kinda the same as now, actually.

But I guess it doesn't matter. Kikil's not leaving openings for anything like a finishing move. She blasts the room with shot after shot from her gun and it's all I can do to keep pace with cartwheels and rolls and the occasional flip kick, which I hate doing because I always lose track of where I am in the air and I look like a dork flailing about to find my balance before I eat it and fall on my butt. Which would be the end of me and make me wish it was at the same time. But I make the effort anyway. For her.

Even though I'm sure I haven't been hit by any of these lasers, I'm taking all the damage anyway. The way she shoots, and what she's shooting, all that really matters is that I'm here. And that I dream. And I do dream of wolves. Silver wolves with piercing red eyes and hearts full of flashy tricks, miracles, and love.

I dream of hawks soaring through the clouds. I dream of endless fields of flowers. I dream of the wide desert and the impossible City of Cities stacked up to the skies at the end of it. I dream of balloons and I dream of waterfalls pouring in layers and layers and layers down the grandest and most beautiful shrine in the entire world. I mean, I guess she did ask. And before I know it, my entire adventure is in the room with us. Attacking me.

Wolves circle me and nip at my ankles. They run between my legs to bowl me over. Birds scream in my ears and divebomb my head to drive me down onto my knees, or even my stomach where I'll be easy food for the wolves. Waterfalls crash down on my head and sweep me away into clumsy duels with the ghost of a ghost, like I'm learning how to hold a sword for the first time all over again.

At first, I fight it all. I swing sword after sword at the animals attacking me to scare them away. I step outside the proper patterns of the duel, and I slash the waterfalls with fear and silly aggression as if I could muscle through them. But I'm not strong enough or fast enough or skilled enough to do any of that. I get bit, and clawed, and battered, knocked around. I think the room must be filled with the sound of my 'eeps' and 'oofs'. But every time, I take my feet. I try again. 'Cause that's my thing, right? The one good thing you can definitely say about me: I get up again.

It takes a good minute for me to realize I might have figured out my finishing move after all. Gosh I hope this works. I don't think I can handle another health bar if it takes me much more than this. I pop back onto my feet and flash what I hope is a brave smile and what I'm sure is a very toothy one. Sword by sword, I flourish and I pose. A little show with no point to it, except that I hope it makes Princess Kikil smile back at me. When I knock off that mask, I mean. That thing is a master class in hiding your identity, she could be sticking her tongue out at me this entire fight and I'd have no idea. Goshies, I really... I want to see her. I wanna know who she is! I feel my heart flutter all excited when I think about it!

"Well! You see!" I stomp my foot and crouch down a bit to start running, "When it started, I got kidnapped by a wolf!"

I am bounding through a field of flowers, silvers wolves leaping and baying at my sides. They twist around me, but playfully. We are a pack. Hyra, and me. Two's a pack when you're in love, ok? We howl together, and the birds scatter to the sky. I hold my saber, and thrust it straight at Kikil. At the space between us, I mean. There's so much distance between her and I, how could I possibly finish things right at the beginning? Silly. Water surges all around me, and my beautiful wolf and I float up all the way to the ceiling.

"She saved me from the river demons, but her princess was so mad! I was supposed to be a prize, you see! The most valuable one in the entire Terraced Lake! Can you believe that? I couldn't!"

We come crashing back down to the floor, and I let myself land hard. I go sprawling and skidding and sliding, head over butt over feet, until I land at the hem of the dress of the Demon Swordswoman. I flip my saber over in my wrist, and present it to her. A dagger and a rapier will have to do for me for this. And so we dance. Like this! And like this! Then like this! Finishing like this! Again!

"I thought she was so beautiful. So I just had to watch her, y'know? What do I know about ghosts anyway? All I could think to do that could make her feel as special as she deserved was to learn as much as I could. I've been trying ever since to absorb all she had to teach me. And, I think?"

Step step step, twirl parry slash! I hold the point of my sword above the bust of the dress, no higher than that silly, where the chin should be, and with a flick of my dagger I disarm the ghost. I lean in to kiss her, then with a smile I leap overtop of her, sheath my weapons, and catch my saber in my off hand. I even manage it after just one quick bobble. A personal best!

"I think I'm finally starting to do her proud! And then! And then! And then? And after that we! Oh, but there's so much to tell."

I run through my dreams, not fighting them anymore. I've got my story to tell, I have to explain it all to Kikil so she'll see. I may not be wonderful or special on my own, but my story is the kind of miracle that could light up the sky if somebody taught it how to. I retrace every step, up over hills and down into valleys and through river after river without even worrying about the demons that live there. I dance with Rose and Chen and even Cyanis, who all flicker like specters a little less real than the rest of it. It's 'cause they've all got important places to be right now, new stories to tell. I don't mind. I'll catch them all up on this later.

In my dream, I meet Princess Qiu for the first time. I'm so close now. I talk with her. I bake her cookies with her own oven. I gasp in shock, and eat the first one by myself. Wowies, these are spicier than I remember! But I'm almost there. The moment I've been waiting for. I stomp out of the room, and that's when the spectral helicopter rises out of the floor.

I grin. My whole body is sweating and... bein' real with you, there's nothing more I'd love than to stop and ask for a nice, long bath. My hair is so sticky you have no idea. But I promised, the second I cut my way in to wherever the heck this is... or well. When Princess Kikil introduced herself to me with her grand army of machines, that's when the promise started. That even if it got hard, and even if my heart started to waver and doubt myself again, I wouldn't drop the ball this time. I promised I'd show her everything I am, if she'd do the same for me. And that means! This time? Excuse my language but gosh darn it I'm going to win!

I don't run screaming from the helicopter. I've got plans for it, y'see. It fires volley after volley of ghost-missiles at me, but this time I've got stuff I didn't have before. This time I've got a jetpack, and this amazing two-handed sword! I fly up to a missile and land on top of it just before it explodes, tucking my sword under my feet so the blast sends me sky high instead of, like, probably killing me? And I'm laughing the whole time, 'cause this is so ridiculous and scary that if I do anything else I'm gonna start crying like a frightened child instead. flip between volleys, riding them higher and higher. My voice surprises me with how clear and strong it sounds.

"My darling little Kat has a name for all of this! She calls this, The Wandering Tales of Yue the Sun Farmer! Here I go!"

I fall. It's kinda funny, now that I think about it. All this effort and nonsense, and in the end all I could come up with is a variation on the same thing I tried on Tianic in my very first for-realsies duel. I don't even add a spin to it or anything, I'm just moving faster than I was then and I'm not a wolf this time. But simple suits me best, I think. I do the rest 'cause it's fun. If you wanna see me takin stuff serious? Then I'm the girl who wakes up before dawn 'cause it's the only way to make the trip in time to harvest silver needle when it reaches its peak. I'm just a girl, y'know? I learned how to bottle sunshine, and then all I could think to use it for was a bunch of home remedies.

And that's who comes crashing down on top of Princess Kikil. Yue, just... still after everything I've been through, still just Yue. But Yue, or maybe her Wandering Tales at least, is enough to strike her big scary mask dead on. I hear the crack. I feel the impact rattle through my bones. And that's when I realize I didn't stop to consider the landing at all. I smash into the floor hard enough that all the pads and protective bits on my outfit shatter into pieces on the spot. I have to dig my sword into the ground with a scream and a frantic flail to keep my head from smashing face first and joining all that stuff.

I feel woozy just the same. Gonna need.... hoooooo goshies. Yeah. A minute before I can stand again. Maybe more before I can fight. But I make the effort to turn and face her. I don't want to miss the moment when it happens. I want to see her. I have to know if she's smiling.

Breathless Dead

The world shifts back into focus. Power settles into her muscles, and they cease trembling. Her breathing steadies. She rises.

Who did that? Who did that?! Say the name! Say the name so she can check her list! She'll purge it first no matter how small it is! She snarls and hisses; a line of flowers, seeds, and wet sands scatter a full meter in the air across a long line where she kicks out in frustration. When she lifts her gaze up beyond the debris, she sees the pair of scoundrels soar above the battlefield.

Mocking her. Ruining her intentions. Punishing her. Running away. Cowards. Vermin. No more. No more games, no more handicaps. Now they die. XIII lifts her arm and twists her claws around the space between them, to tear it away and plunge her hands into a pair of soft, sweet hearts before they could waste another second.

Your name... is Bella.

She flinches. The pressure on her skull is agony. What is, what is, what is, WHAT IS THAT NAME?! XIII staggers where she stands, still wheezing and spitting out the last traces of chemical agony that had dropped her, and then past that. Just get it out! This pressure, this name! She won't go back! Don't call her that, incomplete, broken, weak! Don't! She howls her fury into the storm. She is whole. She knows who she is. She is a number. Tredecima. The Thirteenth.

But her hand drops. She watches them fall back to the earth, away from her.

"Ar. Te. Mis. Bear. Wit. Ness," she rumbles as her body hunches low to the ground. Her entire body tenses with the effort of speaking, but this is worth the effort, "I. Will. Catch. Them. With. My. Feet... I. Will. Kill. Them. With. My. Hands... Do. Not. Throw... Rrrrngh! Gol. Den. Ap. Ples. In. My. Path... Do! Not!"

When she moves, the ground explodes underneath her. She bounds effortlessly, faster than a spear hurled by Ares, scrambling across the sands in leaps and bounds on all fours. Petals and shattered bits of branch scatter all about her in a halo of death. The world shrinks away from her, bit by bit. Sense by sense. Light dwindles down to blackness so that she can see the trail their scent leaves as they flee her. Smells sink lower and lower until she can't catch any but their leaking blood as it spatters on the sands in her wake. She licks her lips, but tastes nothing except the flavor of the hunt. Her ears bend and twist to catch the sounds of their lungs fighting for new air, and even the roar of cannons is a whisper compared to that sweet song.

There is only them. The pair that flees. And XIII who chases. Who hunts. Faster. Faster. Faster! She leaps high into the air every time her feet touch ground and smashes down like lightning again, and again, and again. Every time, the sound of her impact gets closer, faster. Thunder heralds every storm. There is no reason for her to fear this. She is doing what she was born for. Made for. Good girl. Good girl, XIII.

Dolce and Vasilia!

Even fully grounded planetside, the dark shape of the Anemoi reminds you of a dagger, quivering with the need to stab into some enormous, godly heart. That sleek, black, and evil ship is the closest thing you have to a friend right now. The Alcedi lines are broken into chaos. Lanterns fall by the score. Kaeri and Bonsai swarm everywhere in their place, with no Epistia to slow them down.

But you drew up the battle lines yourself, Dolce. Some three kilometers in front of you is a cache of ammunition that feeds into the Anemoi's artillery, now one of the few things keeping the fight from descending into total chaos. Whatever your heart tells you, however bruised and torn your muscles might be right now, that stockpile is your best chance at pulling out a victory.

One shell at point blank was horrible enough for you, but for Bella it was utterly incapacitating. With an entire pile, you might actually be able to stop her completely. With the right combo and timing, you could overload her senses and leave her a writhing, helpless mess. You might knock her unconscious, which could buy you time to at least get a look at her armor, if not figure out how to pry her out of it. You might even be able to kill her.

There is time to come up with a plan. There's time enough for the pair of you to make a decision, together, if you are quick and daring, or full of heart. There is even time enough for an I-told-you-so. But only now. Only right now. Your head start is already gone; Bella races underneath you in a storm of motion with a promise of violence and death the second gravity carries you back into her arms.

Why is she not leaping? What's making her wait? She runs ahead of you now, and turns in a wide circle underneath you as if to prove how much faster she is than you. You're low enough to see the way her claws twitch with anticipation. Her body is relishing the anticipation of the moment she spears the both of you and soothes the irritating burns carved into her skin. Her eyes gleam sharp and silver, and utterly not her own. She will kill you. She could do it easily. But she hasn't yet.

It's time to make a choice. You can roll to Get Away, and put your faith in the Anemoi's SP rounds. Or you can roll to Keep Her Busy, and with your courage or your words try to pry an opening in her armor for someone else to squeeze through. Either way, pay a price.

Sunshards

This is surprising. Actually, this might the most surprised I've ever been. I dunno. I just, oh this is weird. When did my life become so full of princesses? But when I think about them all, and the ones I think about like princesses even though they're technically not, each and every one of them is incredible in a way that seems impossible to copy. Chen has this effortless understanding of swordfights so that it looks like she's fought through the whole duel before you've even challenged her to it, even when you try things you've never done before against her. Rose is strong enough to fight the entire world, feels like, when she wants to be. Not to mention the whole shapeshifting thing, which I've never seen anywhere else even a little bit. And then Yin had her whole Supermax Intensity thing with the chanting and the witchcraft and the glittering secretly-a-bunch-of-tigers knights. Jessic's a dragon! And Hyra's plots are so detailed that she beat both of them with her brain at least as much as her hands. And I didn't even say a word about Qiu or Keron!

And then there's, y'know, me. If you asked me to pick a thing I've got that I thought could stack against all those amazing girls, I guess I'd maybe say... enthusiasm? I love doing this. I love practicing and training and all the little gritty parts of being on an adventure, and most days I really don't mind losing a fight when I think a lot of other people might. I guess 'cause everybody I fight is already so amazing it'd be silly to feel bad about getting beat by 'em. And, like, I'd like to think I've gotten a lot better than when I was starting and I needed Hyra to teach me how to hold a sword, but I...

I'm nothing special. Y'know? Everything I do is full of silly mistakes, and even when it's not I make it look harder than anybody else. I need five cuts to manage what Chen can do in one. And even on the way up this tower I think I must've almost dropped these poor swords of mine at least a dozen times. That's all I've got. I can work hard to catch up a little bitty bit but I always bobble it at the end. The things I've done, I don't think they could shock anybody unless you count the fact that it's me doing them. And y'know, like, when your best quality relies on you being kind of a loser, that. Um. I guess it makes me a loser. I mean, somebody's gotta be. Right? It's not like it's a terrible thing to be. But when that clicked the first time it still hurt, because I thought it meant I could never really make it on the level of all these princesses no matter how hard I tried to, and I just couldn't shut my heart off in time. I still wanted it. I still want it, even now.

And so I... when I came through that glass? I thought that. No, wait. Hold on. I'm about to say something really tricky, and I don't want anybody getting it crossed up. You would have to be the world's biggest dummy to think that Princess Kikil wasn't on the level of the rest of the princesses. I dare you to say that she's not amazingly amazing. Try it. Do. I'll find you. Just look at her world! All those machines, the dance she made them do. The things she made me do. I could never. Not in a million years with a million books explaining how would I get close.

But.

She's a princess. And like I said, every princess or princess-like person I've ever met have all been sword demons. So I just assumed that everything that happened down on the streets was building up to an impossible to handle closing act. And she might still have an ultimate move that's gonna rock me in the end. Probably does, actually. But even still. I never thought I'd meet a princess who wasn't the best at swords. I didn't think I'd meet one, let alone duel one, and have her style look like she's trying as hard as I am. I can see the practice and the study in every move she makes. I didn't know princesses actually had to practice, bein' honest with you. She's trying so very hard and I can see it and. This is so silly. But. But I think she's trying so hard because of me. I think I, I made her do this. I'm making her try. If, no I can't, I can't, I can't ask her about it. But if, if, if! If! Maybe she's shooting me with a laser gun because I made dueling like this look fun to her. Maybe the reason she's not crushing me with a secret super-robot army hidden in the wall panels is 'cause something I did made her think it'd be fun to try it too. Is it even possible she's trying to impress me?

I smile. I absolutely can't help myself. But then I have to duck and find cover in an awful hurry, because as hard as I've been trying to I haven't figured out a good way to block lasers. Eeep! Eeeeeeeeep! Oh gosh, hup! I tilt my head just before I hit the floor and feel my shoulder thump against the wood panel flooring, and I roll up and over onto my feet right into a dive to the safety of that desk she flipped over earlier. Well, the sorta safety. That gun's got so much punch she could shoot right through this thing, or just bounce a shot across her sword and a bit of broken glass and fry my butt where it sits, but at least behind here it's a lot harder for her to see what she's doing. Plus after the window I think she believes in the sacred power of the heroine behind cover in a gunfight. I watch power blast after power blast sail over the desk and splash harmlessly against the wall behind me, and I know for sure. Goshies, what a pro.

Oh, man! If she's trying this hard, that means I gotta step up my game too! I can't get her this riled up just to disappoint her at the end!

Hokay. This is a moment of truth. If this desk is as heavy as it looks, then Kikil's hiding the strength of a goddess under that mask and I was wrong to think any of the stuff I just did. But if I'm right and we're a bit closer to equals, at least in the field of swordfighting, then this desk will do what I want it to, too. I close my eyes and take a deep breath as I work the massive sword off my back. Then I forget to let that breath go, I'm so nervous. The blade shivers in my hands for reasons that have nothing to do with how heavy it is. But it's time to try. I pop up onto my feet and slam the tip of my sword into the floor, catching it on the edge of the table. And it's a miracle! It flips up into the air to cover me!!

...I'm so grateful for these goggles, you've got no idea. If it weren't for them, Kikil'd know for sure just how much I've started crying. And that'd spoil everything. With a big ol' sniff, I whip around as hard as I can in a full circle and draw the katana at the tail end of the motion, slicing the table in half so cleanly it forgets to split apart. My hands move to my pistols, I guess on instinct, and I find they've got spare clips I didn't notice in a couple of my leg pouches. I give them both a good twirl and shoot them both across my chest, crisscross style as I empty them into the table so that the blasts blow the two ends clear across the room from each other.

Hokay, Yue! Lightning quick now, you've only got a second to get this right! Flash, fwip, slip... click! I remember that guns have safeties at the last possible microsecond before they return to their sheaths. Erm. Holsters. Holders? N-nevermind, I don't have time! I pluck my katana back off the ground (because of course I dropped it, but nobody saw probably maybe so I'm still valid) and sheathe it, too. I jump up in the air and kick my monster blade, wrenching it back up out of the floor as I flip up and over it. And grab it as I run. It goes back onto my back.

I think this is what Kat would call my first Hyra Moment. Because she's a sillyhead, this isn't my first by a long shot, but it might be my first that properly lives up to her standard. None of those flashy moves helped me buy the moment I need to close distance, and if they did then I wasted them putting my weapons back in order. But it did draw Kikil's eyes. You can tell because her mask turns a little when she's watching something. And that's an opportunity to do something unexpected. Rapier in one hand, and my trusty saber in the other, I fly across the room like a wolf pouncing on a deer at a watering hole. Swift and sure and vicious, that's me. Just this once. I swing my sword with every once of strength in my body...

So that it clashes with a shower of sparks against her gladius. I hold my rapier steady to control her gun arm. I even switched sword arms, to keep it fair. My precious silver blade grinds against her neon green one, as we two struggle in the bladelock, that oldest and most beautiful of duel forms. A true stalemate. Like she deserves. C'mon, if I tried for the finisher now I'd be history's greatest jerkface. This is my chance at redemption, dummy, I'm not wasting it on something as pointless as winning. No, I'm gonna draw out her best and final technique, and then we'll see if I'm up to it at last. And if not? Hey, at least I'm used to losing. That's how I made all my best friends.

My smile lights up my entire face. The tears that slipped under the goggles glisten against my cheeks.

"So, hey. Hi! Hello! Fancy meeting you here, am I right?"

Breathless Dead

The ground shudders when she lands. The sands sink and crater under the power of her legs. She doesn't even crouch when she impacts; her armor absorbs the full shock and comes to an abrupt halt already fully upright and standing on her feet. She stands there for a moment with her face to the rain. It's peaceful, here. Untroubled.

XIII's skin itches with the promise of the names etched across her body. Thousands upon thousands of them, waiting to be purged. So much work to do. So many seeds to plant. Her steps are even and unhurried as she exits her crater. Her tongue darts out from between her lips and licks them clean of spit. She can afford these moments of wastefulness. The sheep in front of her is in no shape to offer sport. He has no tricks or weapons left to run away with. So she plants her feet deliberately and softly, following the trail of silver footsteps across the ground that lead to his soft body and the wavering, fading lines etched across him.

Three, two, one. Even the act of acknowledging him is an excess. His spear was weak. His form is terrible. More efficient to hunt Va-Si-La. Her name is larger besides. But this act of bravery needs to be answered. She will purge this lesser name from her body first. She reaches forward without urgency and grabs him by the collar of his coat.

Ah. This one uproots so easily. He is like grasping a cloud. Was this flower even planted? She holds him at eye level for a moment. When her knee crushes into his stomach, it's the softest and sweetest thing she's felt in her entire life. More. More! Let them all feel like that! She tosses him into the air and kicks hard enough to shatter bones. She pauses to watch him skip across the sands like a stone across a lake. XIII pauses the length of three heartbeats before she gives chase.

It is time to darken, little name. It is time to soothe her burning body. She pounces before the sands can finish slowing him down, and they slide down a dune as a pair. Battle lines break as they pass, neither side being brave enough to cross a Diodekoi in the middle of a hunt. Dolce's body feels soothing and cold against her palms. His flesh is supple and satisfying for her claws to pierce. His eyes quiver with terror, but they never look away from hers. Her lips pull back into a wide smile, revealing sharp and hungry teeth.

How easily she forgets there is a war happening around her. Other gods besides Artemis are watching them today. A shell fired from the Plousios drops onto the hill next to them, and explodes with a roar and a cloud of hideous, noxious smoke.

XIII howls in agony. The sheep pinned underneath her is forgotten in an instant, and she rolls off of him onto the ground to writhe in agony. She can't. She can't. It hurts. It hurts! Her ears are nothing but the shriek and ring of a blast that won't stop, won't stop echoing no matter she squeezes or claws at them. The air is nothing but waves of pressure that squeeze her into a ball long after the explosion should have subsided. Fumes fill her nose and coat her tongue with an awful film, and even the rain is no reprieve. The smell. The taste. Rot and burn, sting and sweat, so putrid it pulls her straight to vomiting all over the sands and wafting flowers. Her skin is heat, burning hotter than she can manage.

Go away! Go away! Her claws swipe weakly at the air around her, as if smog was a thing she could kill. She gives up quickly as her legs give out from underneath her again, and all that she can do is gurgle and heave and claw at her own body looking for relief. Trickles of blood run from her ears as she clutches them and whimpers, barely audible above the din of battle.

XIII rises to her feet, snarling and drooling and trembling from head to toe. Her vision blurs. The world spins. She collapses to her knees as soon as she finishes rising. The moans that escape her belong to a dying animal. And still, she clutches at the ground and wills herself to stand. And fall. And stand again. She smashes her chest with her fist and screams. She lets her face and ears bleed freely. She drops to one knee again, and this time stays there.

A moment ago, she was a perfect killing machine. Unstoppable and terrifying. A moment from now, she will be again. But right now the entire edifice of her body and its overtuned senses has been turned against her. SP weaponry is a famously effective tactic to confuse and disorient even the most powerful of warriors, but to Bella it is more akin to torture. To watch her now is like seeing a child being made ready for the kennels all over again. Her skin treated with acid baths until the fur burns away and leaves her glistening and "almost human". The whiskers plucked from her face with superheated tongs to cauterize the holes shut, each one snatched from her with an admonishment. Her claws ripped from her fingers for some mysterious punishment she could never understand. There are tears in her clouded silver eyes.

In might be possible to pity her right now, in spite of every awful thing she's done. Or maybe it's easier to see a way to fight her unfolding in front of you.

Sunshards

All right, well this is -- oh gosh! Um. I mean. Eeek! This is! Eep eep eep yikes! This is an experience! A new experience! That I'm having! A -- meep! -- lone!

"Would you knock it off with that whip for a second?! I'm trying to concentrate! I dunno if you knew this, but this is my first sideways vertical building race whip duel, ok? It's hard!"

Goshies. Where was I? Oh right, this is new. I've fought... actually no, 'fought' is the wrong word there. But I've dealt with snakes from time to time so I've had my share of chances to see something that moves like this puppet-robot-cutie's weapons do. All that wiggly power suddenly, WHATCHA! Right in my face and there's not a whole lot I can do about it besides rely on instinct to keep my nose un-nipped. 'Cept with snakes the deal is they're real good at warnin' you off and you can avoid the whole thing just by lettin' 'em know you don't mean harm and backin' off all slow and stuff. I mean, maybe that'd work here too but it's kinda not in the cards, soooooo...

I can feel my lungs getting ready to start a revolution inside me. Sorry girls, just consider it a workout day, ok? I promise I'll give you a big, long day off as soon as I get done with this adventure, ok? You too, legs. And just, look. Yes ok I promise! Nothing but lying still and whining until Hyra feeds me. A whole day! So just hold it together, jerks!

Not that I can really blame my body for this. Wall running's a pretty underdeveloped skill in my tree, let's be kind and say, and jetpack running's barely just been opened. This is a... hoo. This is a big tower. All of this and I'm not even halfway up it! But I won't give up. I'm having waaaaay too much fun to turn around now! But still, it's all I can do to keep pace and continue running up instead of slipping and falling and tumbling all the way back to the ground, where I assume a bed of robots waits for me.

It's especially hard because the Whip-Cutie is very free with her Cutie-Whip. Running straight up like this I can't afford to tumble and roll the way I'd like to, so I'm constantly interrupting my flow with big flippy jumps 'cause that's the only thing my brain can think of to dodge the business end of that almost-snake. I really wish I could've practiced this before doing the real thing. But still. But still. I just have to figure out a way. It almost doesn't matter that I can't figure out what to attack because, honestly, I can't attack at all. So much of my time is caught up in dodging, and squeaking, and almost-dodging and then scrambling into a jetpack burst to keep myself from dropping back that there's actually just no chance for me to hit back.

Every move I can think to try is useless. Can't throw any of my weapons, they'll get tangled up in the strings or the whip, and it'll be too hard to catch 'em again after that. And besides I can't throw a one of 'em for beans, at least without costing myself so much momentum that I'm guaranteed to lose the race to the top. That's important, y'know. If I'm still fightin' when I reach Kikil's window, I'm a dead girl. Metaphorically. Probably. I mean I'm sure she'd just kidnap me or whatever, she seems nice enough honestly, but in my brain it doesn't work that way. It's win or die. But none of my weapons can reach, and I'm out of bullets. Or out of ways to check my outfit for more. Same difference. If I leap, she leaps back in time, and then I get a whip to the butt for my troubles. Which I don't mind telling you, hurts a lot.

...Gosh, I'd love to have gotten to meet whoever inspired this outta Kikil. They must be an amazin' person. And maybe if it were here and me on flat ground without a timer, I'd be able to learn a thing or two about how to handle Whip-and-Spear Style. Whoever she is, she is exactly like Rosie. Tellin' you, some girls cheat just by existing. Love her.

We dance. It's beautiful and fun, but I can't shake the sense that I'm runnin' out of time. Even well before I'm out've tower, I'm out've time. If I don't find a way past this latest flourish soon, she'll add another one and if I have to race two of her inspirations at once, well I... I mean, there's just only so much I can do. I try to cut the whip with a flash draw technique but it dances past my arc. I try to thrust the spear out've her hand with my rapier but I just can't lunge with any kinda speed while I'm runnin' like this. It's too hard. Goin' up, it's too hard.

Oh, this reminds me of something else, actually. When I was on my way home with Hyra, we stopped and talked about a lotta stuff. Did a lot more than just talkin, too, but that's for her and me to know about and no one else. But anyway she was tellin' me a story about a game she was playin' once, some kind of... video thingy that had this big boss characters you had to fight on a snowboard. And I mean obviously this was just a game, and a story of a game at that, but it feels so much like this I can't help but compare 'em. See, Hyra tried all the attacks the game let her do, and none of 'em helped at all. The boss character was just as fast as she was, and it was ahead of her besides. Attackin' was no good. She didn't win by learnin' a new technique, either. She won by focusin' on boosters. When she got faster than the boss character was goin', suddenly she didn't need any attacks at all to win.

Oh. I get it now! It's not about what target I'm aiming for at all. It's not even about dodging that whip! No, this is just about if I can be faster than she is, just for long enough to make contact. The rest'll take care of itself.

I draw my saber and hold it close to my forehead as I run. I even give the blade a little kiss, for luck. Slash, spin, slash! I let the jetpack burst for a full three seconds to get me good and movin', and strike out with my sword as cleanly as I can manage. Of course it doesn't hit anything, even if I do get a little closer than normal. But that's fine, I'm really waiting for the whip. All this time, I've been tryin' not to get hit at all, but that's been what slowed me down the whole time. Speed. It's all about speed, y'know. Which means sometimes, you just gotta know when to take your whipping like a good girl. Um. Erm. M-meep!

The lash flicks straight at my face, and I can't help but notice how beautiful it looks in motion. The coils, suddenly bursting straight and strong and free. It almost catches me on the cheek, and I squeak like when I was six and I had to sleep in Sis' bed to make it through a thunderstorm. I can even here the boom, right in my ears. But I drop back half a step at the last second. And that's when I feel the whip wrap around my sword.

Gotcha!

I pull when she does, and burn the jetpack a second time. Suddenly, her strength, her speed, and the rockets she's usin' to fly backward up that tower are my speed too. One of us is movin' much faster than the other. And now's when I've gotta strike. When it comes to this sort've a move you really only get one crack at it, y'know?

So I don't use any of my swords. I roll forward, through the air, like I've been wantin' to this whole time, and I throw my shoulder into the main body of the robot with what I hope was a battle cry but was probably more've an "oof" or an "eep". That sounds a bit more like me, anyway. The collision sends a big, owie shiver all down my arm and into my back, and it knocks me off balance till I fall back and have to catch myself in the glass on a pair of daggers to keep from droppin' all the way back into the danger zone of death and, uh... danger?

But it does the trick. She's flyin' backward too, y'know? And I just gave her all've my speed to add to hers, and a single shoulder check is all she needed to go spiralin', shootin' straight back into those puppet strings. And wouldn't y'know it? She rolls up in 'em like she's caught in a trap. It pulls the drones to close to one another, and then? WHATCHA! KRAKOOM! They blow up!

And now it's strings and a beautiful puppet with no hands to hold her up fallin' straight down the tip I can't afford to take. And even though I'm runnin' up, up, up, I feel my heart sink. It's not fair that she should need to fall all that way. This beautiful person doesn't deserve that much, even if she is just a memory. Or a, uh, robot of a memory, or... shut up! I'm runnin' out of time here!

It's hard to swing my sword-board at these speeds, but nothin' else is heavy enough to do the job I need it to. I step into it as best I can, and sell out hard on the swing to smash a window into pieces, just above me. I manage it in the nick of time, and now it's down to luck. The puppet girl tumbles past me. I reach down behind, and catch her by the wrist. One more thrust of the jetpack, which I notice is starting to burn a little weird. I'm gonna have to be more careful from now on. But right now, it's worth it. I twirl us both around, and let her go so that she tumbles safely through the broken window as I pass by it. There. Good and safe. Good and safe and loved.

"You were beautiful!" I shout behind me, even though it's pointless. So I shake my head and shout it up ahead instead, "You're beautiful, y'know that?"

My lungs whine at me some more. What am I thinkin', using them to shout stuff when they're already workin' so hard? But it's important, ok? It's worth every bit of sting and pain. I wanna win, yeah. I wanna feel that feeling that all my friends know but me. But I can't get there without telling my opponent how I feel. I can never win without loving the girl I'm fighting.

I don't want to.

Breathless Dead

Flowers. Flowers. Flowers. She hisses. She spits. Flowers. Flowers. Flowers. Her Kaeri are making too much noise. They clack their spears together and beat their wings. Fools. They drown out the hunt. And always, everywhere, flowers. Flowers. Flowers. In her eyes, her nose, her mouth.

XIII drags her tongue across her claws. Long. Wet. Slathering. She slurps the blood noisily off her hand. Flowers. Flowers. Flowers need nectar. Her entire body shivers in pleasure: the simple reminder of the rewards waiting at the end of her work washes everything else away in an instant. She rises, and steam drifts out of the corners of her mouth when she releases a breath. Of course there are flowers. This is a garden. Mother's garden.

Ahhhhhh. It is so wonderful to finally know who you are.

Vasilia and Dolce!

Landing in the middle of a Kaeri Terror Phalanx feels like a mistake, no matter how long you hang in the air and think about it. Underneath your feet is nothing but a stormy sea of feathers, with spears swimming across the surface. They way they prowl, even as agitated as they are, is hypnotizing. Sometimes they splinter off in groups or even individuals and disappear into the tides of bonsai or the ranks of the Alcedi. Sometimes they burst back out, other times they don't, but every plot and counterplot signals a wave of fresh screaming. And you're certain that noise has been engineered out of them.

But even so, you land. You have four good eyes and two perfect hearts between you, and years of practice working together through stupid and dangerous plans besides. Though it's uncomfortable and dangerous to hide yourselves in the middle of an enemy army like this, it's not even close to the dumbest thing a Starsong Privateer has done and lived to tell about. It's much better to dance down here and deal with them then to ride the grav rail for too long and be the only thing in Bella's sights when she recovers.

The decision buys the pair of you a moment of peace. Not quiet and solitude, but peace the way a Starsong would understand it: the comfort of knowing that you have a plan, and for once it's working. If this were a time for quips and banter, there might even be room for an 'I told you so' just now. But you know better. No sound, no smell, no movement that could draw her eyes.

You are being hunted. And before you can even settle into the pattern of movement, you hear it. You hear her. The ground vibrates under your feet with erratic timing. If she's stomping her feet then she must be drunk. More likely she's pounding the ground with her fists. A stupid creature, full of nothing but rage.

She howls, and your blood freezes inside of you. It's a sound that nothing living should be able to make, or at the very least nothing on a smaller scale than one of Poseidon's great children. Human and animal, wounded and proud, guttural and shrill, and so, so loud that it makes your skulls feel like they want to split open rather than contain the sound of it. She howls for what feels like minutes, an eternity maybe, you don't know. You don't want to know. Pain. Everything she does is pain. Everything she has is pain. Everything she is, is pain.

Finally, the noise subsides. When you hear her pound the ground again, she's closer this time. The field of Kaeri cuts both ways though; it's difficult in the extreme to spot her, even in that bulky armor. She stomps and pounds. You run as a pair, on careful quiet feet. To your left, when you hear her coming from the right. To the right, when you hear her circling around from the left. You bump and push Kaeri warriors around so that they stumble into each other and disrupt the flow of their formation so that she can't read your trail by the movement of the owls. Her senses are your weapon.

But the pounding keeps getting closer now. You can't see her. You can't see her. But you can hear her. She's hissing with every step she takes, a truly disgusting noise. Every breath drags with the sense of maximum exertion you'd expect from somebody who's been running a marathon, and on top of that hers are wet and hacking. She's drooling. Absolutely slathering all over herself, and even through the rain she must be covered in it. In your imagination, it's tinged pink. It must be. You can smell the blood from here, superior nose or no.

Stomp. Stomp. Stomp. To your left. As a pair you dart right, and catch your mistake only just in time. A timely shout from you, Dolce, is all that makes your Vasilia stop in time to avoid getting cut in half. Bella looms in front of you. Her armor makes her look like a titan. She reaches up with both hands to wrench her own head to one side, and the crunch of her joints is so loud it makes you wonder if she's broken her own neck. But she hisses, and steam pours from her mouth. And you realize what it means to be hunted by the Diodekoi. She's been stomping and screaming to disguise the noise of her own movements. She must have crawled around on the ground like a tiger to keep you from spotting her.

She doesn't pause to gloat or grin. There's no hatred or comprehension in the light of her eyes as she pulls back an arm so her blow will have enough weight behind it to kill both of you at once. Swift and efficient. Intelligent. You've been had. This is where you die. This is where you

Jump!

It doesn't matter which one of you thinks it first. It doesn't matter whose voice is shouting. All that matters is that you do it, together, and once again the pair of you are flying over the battlefield in the nick of time. Bella crouches low on the ground beneath you and comes tearing through the sky with speeds that should be reserved for fully ramped up plovers, but the advantage of Vasilia's weapon and combat style is in its mobility. For all of her power, Bella moves in straight lines and you don't have to. Even in spite of the heroic effort she puts into physically willing herself to stop rising and start falling again, her claws cut only air or a bit of clothing. Close enough that you can feel lethal heat coming off of them, but nothing more than that.

She leaps again. You pivot, Vasilia. You cling, Dolce. And when you turn, she catches you both. Gods, what is she doing?! You saw her, trailing into the sky above, and then she slashed her claws at nothing and suddenly! You didn't blink. Neither of you could afford to. But she crossed the distance between her overshot charge and your countermove without a single intervening frame of movement. She stands atop your shoulders, and you feel hot foam spatter down on your heads.

"Dis. Trac. Tion." she rumbles, "You. Are. Marked."

You feel it instead of seeing it. You were together, and now you are apart. Vasilia feels the heavy hammer of Bella's heel crash down on her shoulder and she's falling away with nothing but weapons and oaths where once there was a husband. Dolce feels her hand squeeze briefly on his skull and suddenly he's careening in the opposite direction with all the same control of a small cloud caught in a storm wind.

Bella rises up into the air on unseen wings of wind and power. For a moment, she's alone. She curls down toward the ground, and crashes back down into the battlefield as a comet. But she is still one assassin. And there are two of you.

Which one of you, in this moment, did the brave and stupid thing to make sure it was you she fell on?

Sunshards

I still don't know why I am the way I am. I dunno what I even mean by that, bein' honest with you. I dunno why my clothes are so different just 'cause I cut my way in here; I don't think Qiu wore different stuff when she did this? Maybe I did it wrong after all. Or different. This is all... anyway. I dunno why I've suddenly got a dozen weapons on me when the most you could ever say I had before was one and a half. I dunno if I'm supposed to be me from another, like, story? If that makes any sense? Or am I meant to be Kikil's ideal opponent? Am I here to grant her wish? Or mine? I dunno.

Why am I me? Hoo gosh, that's a question. And, y'know? I guess it doesn't really matter. It's enough that it's true. I know why I wanted to come here, even though I've got no idea where 'here' is. And I know why I know how to use all've these weapons so nice, even though I haven't practiced with any of 'em. It's 'cause I'm Yue. Just... Yue. And what I really wanna know is if that means anything.

I'm smilin'. Grinnin', really. I just had the best idea.

I crouch down so I can jump off the ground as high as I can go in a hop. Can't tell you how high that is, 'cept that it puts me at even height with a swooping laser robo-hawk. So, y'know, high but not... ok look this is not the important part, ok? Follow along or you're gonna get left behind. I reach for my back and grab the giant sword secured there; it's big enough that it'll do for this. Really, this must be what it's for. I pull it free, and kick my foot out to start my body spinning, and that's when I feel the jetpack kick in. I feel my body rotate once, twice, and at the end of the third spin I let the sword fly.

My body drops back to earth like a stone off a cliff, but I stomp the landin' and I'm already runnin' off after the sword as it flies through the air. I kick up again, feel the rush of motion as the jetpack flares up again, and plant my feet on the widest part of the blade. Chen told me that sometimes in Sourcefall, they'd duel on snowboards. This is my little tribute, hope she likes it. Oh shoot, she's not gonna... oh well!

The wind whips my ponytail like crazy as I tear through the air. Bombs fall and lasers burst around me, but on instinct or luck or I don't even care what it is, I bend out of the way before I get cut in half, and the sword's so stupendously huge I can actually ride the burst of the explosions like a bunch of, uh, I dunno what you call 'em. Little hills, but... snowy, I guess? I can even twirl if I stomp my foot with the right timing!

Spin, spin! There's a karate bot flying up at me with a perfect side kick. I lean into my rotation and cut 'em down as we cross in the air. Spin, spin! I can't keep the laughs from spilling out of me, throwing knife after knife into the crowd as I pass. I run out pretty quick, but when my hands reach around to the back of my belt they find a pair of pistols strapped there, waitin'. And I mean, under normal circumstances? I'd call this cheatin'. And I don't really know how to shoot to begin with. But Kikil's got so many machines that I can't miss. And honestly the robots started it first. I hold them out to either side and squeeze the trigger as I flip-fly through the sky above them.

The flashes of light that burst from the tip with every shot are really pretty.

But sooner or later, this kinda nonsense has to come to an end. I'm gettin' dizzy and the sword's startin' to slow down, besides. I ride another burst toward the ground and crash down into the pavement and a big tank-bot's armor plates with a shower of sparks, and grind to an almost-halt. It's an almost halt 'cause I don't let it end there. I run to the tip of the sword and kick it down behind me so it flips into the air, and catch it on my back again. Each one of these things is an extension of who I am, got it? More'n that, it's a connection to someone I met and a style I learned from. I may not get to keep any of this when I go back home, but bet your butt I'm not leavin' a one of these things behind by choice.

I dash through the sea of machines until the burst of the pistols quiets down to clicks. Nice work, friends! I give them both an appreciative twirl and stick them back into their holders, all careful-like. My sword leaps into my empty hand, and I guess it's eager to prove it's still my best and favorite weapon. Don't worry girl, we've been together ever since Hyra taught my how to handle the weight of a real sword. I lift it above my head to let the edge glint in the neon lights of the city-park, and the glittering moon, and the caged sun.

Ok Yue, come on. This time get it right.

"Se-Secret Sword: The Reverse Side of the Page! Homage technique, Wolf Dancing In the Moonlight!"

Hey. Hey. Ya wanna know a secret? I made that up just now, there's no technique like that. It's not a secret sword either, at least not the way the stories would accept one. But Hyra always says, if you're watching the show then you're looking in the wrong place, right? If I shout and seem all cool, and if I bounce the light off my sword so that it seems like I'm about to do somethin' earth shatterin' and powerful, then nobody's watching my hand fumble through my pouches.

And definitely nobody's looking at the handful of sun beads I pull out. Not till I scatter them all across the ground around me. The glass cracks and lets a year's worth of collected sunlight spill out all at once. These machines, however they see, they've gotta be used to the dark, kinda dank aesthetic this place has goin' on. Whereas me, I've been chasing this light for years and years. Plus I've got these awesome goggles. In the dazzle of the sudden sunrise, it's a snap to bring my sword down for realsies and cut a hole through the top of the circle of machines that was closing around me. And then I'm off before they can figure out what happened.

I'm runnin' as fast as I can toward the tower. I know the window I need to reach, so I'm not gonna bother with silly things like using the door when I can just climb the side, instead. But there's a little ways before I make it, what's important is that I'm on my way. Every one of these machines in this army is a new technique from Princess Kikil, right? She's amazin', I'll give her that. This might be the funnest duel I've ever had.

But if all that's true, then it means that every foot I put down that gets me closer to where she's sittin' is a stroke I haven't bothered to block. You see it yet? I'm slippin' under that guard, and before you know it, it'll be my sword under her chin. I've got so many to choose from, just now. Haha, hahahaha!

She's gonna be so mad when she notices where I am. I can't wait to meet her next counterpunch <3

Breathless Dead

She observes the sword in her hand with curiosity. Her head tilts as she lifts it up and turns it about in what dim light filters through the rain. How strange. She thrusts it through the air with a dull whistle. Unsatisfying. She pulls it closer to her face; the itch is building, burning. Insistent. Unignorable.

She puts claw to blade, and slides it up and down the length of the sword. Ahhhhh, these screams. XIII shivers with pleasure, and her tail twitches in anticipation. The release of tension. Delicious. She closes her hand around the edge of the weapon, and with a last sigh it snaps into pieces that fall around her feet like glittering treasures. The name burns into her spine, drawing a howl from her lips.

"Va... Si... La..."

It was not a bad plan, for the record. You were brave enough to call her attention to you, and wise enough to realize that a quip and a concealed pistol would not do for dueling's sake. With the rain obscuring your scent and the flock of Kaeri obscuring your motion, you could have been a shadow. A person could hide forever in a field she wasn't permitted to thresh. And if you'd used these tactics on Bella, they would have worked to perfection. Stupid Bella, prideful Bella, broken Bella... an incomplete creature pawing uselessly at the light.

But you are hunted. You are marked by a creature with no world outside of the names carved into her skin. XIII reaches an empty hand toward you, across the empty chasm between you and the field of blooming flowers. You can't help but blink your eyes as you scrabble to your feet, and in that single instant you are caught. Her fingers squeeze the stormy air. Her claws bite into the distance between you. Her fingers squeeze your throat like ripe fruit. Her claws dig into your skin, drawing five tiny rivulets of blood to stain your shirt and collar.

She lifts you into the air as easily as she would a child, and slams you down into the muck hard enough to crater the wet sand around you. Sword broken, back aching, lying in the muck. Is this starting to feel familiar? The Diodekoi drops on top of you and squeezes your ribs between her thighs. Her hand keeps clenched about your throat the entire time. The bulky armor obscures her form, but it smells like her. You know. You've been in this position once before. The wet, blue-black braid that slides around her neck and into your face is clumsier than that pretentious so-called "Praetor" would ever have permitted, but even so. Even so, it's such a specific color. The pressure of her legs is familiar. It is awful. You can feel your bones shuddering in protest, and she squeezes tighter still.

You'll never forget the feeling of that moment, that day. There were bonsai then, too. It hurt then, too. You can never, ever forget the sight of that white tail whipping behind her. Her eyes, barely visible through her mask, match now. They are not the eyes that you remember. They are milky, cloudy silver, stained with flecks of angry red throughout. But it's her. It's her. You know for an absolute fact that it's her.

"Va. Si. La." she hisses, and her voice is strained and tinny, with a horrible echo that does not come from her mask

She doesn't bend down to kiss you this time. Her hand clenches tighter around your throat, until your vision starts to blur around the edges. You can watch her lift a hand with five perfect, wicked claws above you. An offering. A sacrifice. This is how you die. She's the one that kills you.

...Except. You're not alone this time, are you?