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    1. samakama 6 yrs ago

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“Oh no, I think she broke a vertebra or two.”

Da-Xia’s rather unfortunate fate was predictable. It still stung a bit to see, or would have, had Limen been stuck with a human’s uncontrolled empathy. He wondered briefly if Hanako still retained enough of her humanity to feel the pain, then thought back to how obvious the answer had been in her behaviour for the short day or two he’d known her. Was that supposed to be a nickname? Hm. Two could dance that tango.

“Hey-o, Hanakko. The other two Hunter fellows appear to be taking off. Without either of us, rather sadly —“ he glanced over to the half-dead motorcyclist. “— nor even their fallen comrade.”

A sigh and a shake of his head later, Limen hefted Da-Xia’s ragdolling body onto a rapidly-assembled contraption, proudly designed by yours truly. Axles, wheels, and a handle materialised and came together one by one, forming what was unmistakably some sort of elongated pushcart. He did recall hearing that immobilisation was key to the treatment of fractures, and that moving a car crash casualty willy-nilly could easily render them paraplegic for life or something along those lines…

Well, he’d already tossed Da-Xia less-than-gracefully onto his sled-stretcher. The most he could do at this point was strap her down tight for the ride.

“Join the dark side one day, Hana-nee. We’ve got apples and amaryllis, all libre and gratis. Simply put, Hanacchi: we’ve got all we need, all for free.” This was immensely silly. Rufus would probably have his head for letting the more dangerous of the hunters through. Did Limen care much at the moment? Enough to start jogging toward the rocks (with Da-Xia acting as the vanguard), but no faster. “Come, hostage; come, outhouse-haunting friend. Let’s catch up to the party, Han-Han of the Privy!”
How viable would an undead character be?
Company had come to them. It would have been foolish to expect otherwise, frankly. Limen followed suit, taking refuge behind the tree.

“I’m the one with barriers. Rufus, you ought to portal ahead and get Envoy’s rocks. I’ll stall.”

Admittedly, his barriers would spontaneously shatter themselves if a Devil Hunter so much as touched the wrong way. But that just meant he’d have to be creative — and Limen hadn’t survived the last century through luck alone.

The fastest hunter here would obviously be the one on the motorcycle. Well, putting aside Hanako — he wasn’t sure what the velocity of ectoplasm in air was, but it wasn’t like he would be able to stop her or most other youkai either way. This left Da-Xia to top his hit-list. At the speed she was going, a properly-placed barrier could probably bisect her and her ride cleanly. That was a little morbid, though, and perhaps Limen was feeling a bit sentimental today. He contented himself with going after the knight’s horse.

It took a few false starts to get the timing down. Eventually, however, Limen was able to position his barrier just right. This barrier consisted of a single thin, flat plane; but it was it’s placement and nature that made it effective — in front of the motorcycle’s front tyre, preventing any matter from passing through. Ideally, it would make use of Da-Xia’s own velocity to cut the tyre into ribbons, rendering the vehicle immobile with minimal lasting damage to it or its rider. Of course, there was still one caveat underpinning the whole plan. Was Da-Xia’s motorcycle enchanted? When she had taken the two demons to the noodle shop earlier, he hadn’t noticed any signs of that being the case. The answer would be clear soon.

Even if that didn’t work out, Limen still had a couple more ideas. Slowly, he began to assemble a geodesic dome around the battlefield, comprising dozens of smaller barriers, each only allowing light through one-way: out. Pitch-black on the inside but practically transparent to any outside observers, it would gradually cause the area to dim until every last photon was gone.

“Or until they start prodding it with their swords,” he sighed.



Limen had thought of flipping a coin, but it would seem that Shika had already made the decision for him. Might as well balance the numbers. “I’ll take the park too. It has been rather some time since I last ate a live human.” After all, there had been no point exerting himself hunting when man-made massacres and mass graves were plentiful.

Figuring out quite what he ought to think about the swirling portal of impossible physics Rufus had opened before him didn’t top his current list of priorities, but he would have to interrogate the eldritch being for details some day. Perhaps some experimentation would be in order? Well, even the Envoy had stepped through and emerged seemingly intact, so surely it could be of no harm for now. A more cynical devil might have regarded them all as a bit overeager to trust another demon, be it in their tacit agreement to the Envoy’s terms or their willingness to rely on the powers of an unfamiliar acquaintance. It would be difficult indeed to rebut that advocate’s arguments.

Limen, however, strolled on through the portal.

The air was still refreshingly cool. Fitting weather for a relaxing walk indeed, though he had little doubt that the atmosphere would soon take a turn for the worse. Limen shut his eyes for a moment and listened for that unmelodious melody. “Rocks attract youkai, and youkai attract DHA. I reckon our odds of running into hunters are quite something. What say you…“ He paused, briefly. “That reminds me. Have you a name, barkeep? Or are we taking the alias approach à la Reservoir Dogs?”
In many parts of the world, burns as deep and extensive as Narvia’s would have been fatal. Even if you happened to be in the right place, your socioeconomic circumstances could easily decide whether you’d receive curative or palliative treatment, if any at all. Fortunately, she had been the only one to receive serious injuries — a mass casualty situation would have meant triage. And that, in all likelihood, could have meant a liberal dose of painkillers and last rites for her. Not something Ariel would have liked to administer to another friend.

After that would have come deciding the method of burial. Occasionally a ship might keep the intact corpse onboard, perhaps in some freezer, until they could land for a more traditional funeral. The more efficient method was to eject it out the airlock or perhaps ‘cremate’ it with the engine. The most efficient method involved recycling.

Would have, could have. Such unpleasantness was all behind them now. Narvia was here, healthy, heartily acting as adorable as usual. That was all that mattered; at least until the next mission came. Until then, the Star Marines — and the adult crewmates, too — could enjoy the boring tedium of daily life. The cycle of numbing pain and peaceful normalcy would continue. Today the Xuanzang had arrived at the rebel world, Plenty. People would be dying in the hours to come. Ariel could only hope that her next séance would not be with any one she knew.

Tarak, as usual, had formulated and presented a plan of action. It sounded decent enough to Ariel; easy enough for her to say, seeing as she had been again assigned to a cushy support role away from all the gunfire and gore. Well, there’d be none of that if things worked out — but she doubted any one here sincerely believed that that would be the case.

Time for work!

Ariel plugged her omni-tool into one of the communications consoles, right beside where Seraphina had plopped down. She wasn’t too familiar with all the knobs and levers, so having it all on a touchscreen would make interfacing a bit easier. Nor was hacking her specialty, though she had engaged in electronic warfare more often than not during the war. It was a bit less stressful than medic work — the fact that your friends’ lives lie in your hands is slightly less of a Sword of Damocles when their blood and entrails aren’t spilling out in front of you — and had definitely been far safer than frontline duty.

“We’re like the lookouts in a heist film.” Ariel could hardly complain. It was an essential role, yet isolated from most of the risk. She’d wanted to chat a bit more, but Seraphina bore the look of a cool all-business operator. No small talk, for now.

A quick series of taps and gestures on her omni-tool booted up an array of programs, some less questionably legal than others. They would be coming in handy soon. “Three of us need to monitor both cams and comms, plus taking over the crashed ship down there. I’ve dabbled a bit in hacking and the like, so mind if I handle the latter, Phi? Then you can take communications.”

“Let’s aim to take control before they notice anything’s wrong. If they do manage to transmit some signal, we’ll have to resort to jamming. But if it’s too obvious, it’d blow our cover anyhow. So—“ Ariel swiped at her screen, and soon a new file had been uploaded into the ship’s database. “I found some rebel propaganda we can use as interference as long as we blast it at full power. Hopefully it’s believable enough.”

“As for Amy — she hasn’t got any military background. But I think we can still leave her to monitor some of the cameras and simpler sensors. Keep an eye out for the Ascendancy forces planetside and in space. Actually… where is Amy?”

It wasn’t the first time Ariel had said this aloud. The last few days, Amy had been unusually absent from the corridors as well. Ever since their first combat with the defectors, in fact — no, cracks had begun showing even during the boarding operation. The team mom and pseudo-counsellor was in dire need of some love and therapy.

Physician, heal thyself.

Amy was an adult. Probably — it was quite taboo among some xeno-anthropologists to assign such labels to non-human developmental stages. But she seemed to fit the mould. That especially included her behaviour with regard to the child soldiers (or in her case, simply ‘children’) — affectionate and protective, even maternal in some sense. She probably had difficulty reconciling her image of the Star Marines as ‘children’ with the reality of the ‘adult’ lifestyle they had taken on. One of dissonantly un-childlike fighting, killing, and dying.

At least she wasn’t starting to sympathise with their opponents. That sort of emotion led to insubordination, and that more often than not meant death.

“Sorry. Phi, give me a moment. I’ll go get Amy back.” Ariel pushed herself away from the consoles, and headed over to the far end of the bridge.

Feelings of powerlessness, at being unable to protect these ‘children’. Ariel had seen similar things before in a few adults who had worked with them in wartime, even with how carefully restricted their rare interactions had been. Those who could not restrain themselves had been assigned elsewhere. And those were trained personnel. For a civilian tossed into a complex modern battlefield without so much as a boot camp, like Amy — the already immense pressure would be amplified, compounded to an overwhelming degree. ‘Failure to adapt’ would be putting things lightly.

“Amy—! Um,” Ariel reached out, half-unsure, before going all in on a gentle, tender hug. “Like Avelyn said, you look super tired today. It’s been a tough week for everyone. And, this mission is about to be even tougher. It’s all really stressful, and all of us feel that too. So there’s no need to keep things pent up. Talk to us. We’ll listen.”

Ariel had buried herself in the taller woman’s bosom. But now she turned to look upwards, to look at Amy directly. “If… if you want, you can cry on my shoulder too. Let it out. And then — be the best Amy you’ve always been.”
Limen was no alcoholic, but he couldn’t deny being a humaneater. Technically his human body could probably qualify him for the ‘cannibal’ label, although some purists — particularly of the violent, hunting, sometimes demoneating variety — would argue otherwise. Either way, perhaps he had come to the right place to overcome his addiction in a conducive environment and with a support circle of like-minded fellows. Never mind the fact that it was a bar, and the bartender had made off with a few corpses just earlier.

At least the fellow was competent enough a barkeeper to keep his alcohol license, tossing the underage-looking demon a non-alcoholic drink. A little spilled from Limen’s mug, but that was hardly an issue. A quick barrier intercepted the droplets before they soiled Rufus’ lovely floor and reduced them to atomic dust. No signs of tampering or contamination. It was authentic, unadulterated root beer.

Sip.

Root beer never had been Limen’s favourite drink. It had always been a very American beverage to him, especially since they had long since stopped putting in real sassafras. He set the mug down. In the meantime, it would appear that he had been initiated into the group which had come into existence but two minutes prior.

So be it. “I, Limen, do hereby pledge to remain sober to the best of my ability. Now let us eat and drink in celebration of our newfound temperance. Barkeep, have you got a loving cup to pass around? We ought to give our human friend a particularly warm welcome.”

He began thumping the table in time. Was that the right tempo? It had been many decades since he’d seen that so-called horror film.

“We accept her, we accept her. One of us, one of us.” Gooble gobble… Perhaps it would be best to leave that part out; it wouldn’t do to give her the impression that this troupe of devils was about to feast on her. No human-gobbling here at Humaneaters Anonymous! Da-Xia was no certainly trapeze artist, and it would be a great disservice to liken her to that villainess Cleopatra — but the scene was the first thing that had come to mind. Plus, the Envoy’s reference was surely the more obscure of the two cult classics.

“One of us, one of us.”

Fun and games wasn’t the only thing going through his mind, however. Limen, too, had a question to ask of that same laid-back demon. He put an end to the rhythmic countertop-abuse and let his hands rest on his head. “I am also curious. An envoy represents their master, acting to convey messages and further their interests. What tidings do you bear today, Envoy, and whence do they come?”
“I’m Limen. No surname.”

Seated at the very back, Limen couldn’t see what Da-Xia was typing. Using a mobile phone on a motorcycle was probably a traffic offence. Then again, so was riding without a helmet, and his barriers probably didn’t count. It wasn’t like he distrusted the hunter’s driving skills or anything, but…

All the same, he held on to Hanako a little tighter.



The Japanese economy’s growth had already slowed to a crawl when Limen had set off for the Moon, but the yen must have suffered from some terrible inflation in the past decades. These prices were absolutely mad! Main dishes started at four digits, and even the appetisers and drinks were still at a positively exploitative price. He had intended to pick a bowl of whatever was cheapest. Now it seemed that he would have to weigh which of Da-Xia’s purse and his stomach was of greater importance.

She was a kind lady. But she seemed ‘nice’ in both the modern and the archaic senses of the word — the sort who would give whatever salary she had left (after deductions for gratuitous collateral damage) to any pitiful-looking fellow on the street, even with rent due in a week. It was that rare moral simplicity, a pure code of ethics without discrimination or self-deception. No exceptions; an absolute personal rule of law. She reminded Limen of some devils who would never compromise on their tenets, even if it meant the end of their existences. Those devils had always felt like automatons or forces of nature more so than sapient beings. For a human, it was an uncommon but respectable way to live.

Maybe he was reading too much into things. Much like Hanako, and perhaps the vast majority of otherworldly creatures, Limen had not met such a friendly fellow among the Devil Hunters in many decades. Across all sorts of times and territories, this seemed like a constant policy among them: to shoot first and ask questions only if shooting didn’t work at first. And even then, such questioning sought but one ultimate answer — what methods were needed to kill this daemon?

Da-Xia was paying for his food. She was different from the rest.

“I’ll have a bowl of kake udon.” Nothing extravagant. It would still make for a hefty bill on its lonesome.

The restaurant’s service was good. Limen’s order arrived in no time, a piping hot bowl of thick noodles and broth with a simple seasoning of sliced scallions. Some would think it bare-bones, or as the critics and connoisseurs say nowadays, ‘minimalist’. Either way, it was hearty warmth in the heartless cold, and that was all he needed. He dug in. A full day’s worth of hunger was at once satisfied by the heat of the soup and the soft texture of the noodles. It was better than a kotatsu in winter.

Hanako was pointing finger guns at Da-Xia. Slurp. Wasn’t that a threatening gesture?

…apparently not. It would seem that it had taken on a playful meaning as of late. Too bad she’d been turned down.

“This body of mine’s perfectly edible too. I promise you, it’s one hundred per cent authentic human flesh and blood. Made it myself.” He extended a hand in offering. “I reckon I’m your senior, after all. Can’t have a kouhai like you starving.”

Now he’d laid his chopsticks to rest on the rim of his bowl, freeing up his other hand. There was this scene that had been on the screens in Akihabara, part of some sort of promotional video. He had seen it played a whole bunch of times; enough times to imitate it by heart. A cutesy head-tilt and a coquettish finger on his chin. It was body language totally unsuitable for what Limen was about to say. “Would you like plasma? Lymph? Or perhaps… C・S・F ?”

Well, that was embarrassing. The offer still stood, though.

“By the way. Da-Xia — earlier, in the warehouse, you said you heard the yuurei speak, right? I didn’t hear that, but I did hear some kind of strange music.” He looked over to the motorcycle where he had stashed his backpack, rocks included. “I thought taking some of those black rocks would stop it, but apparently not. I still hear the music even now.”

Limen pointed vaguely in the direction of the ‘happenstance’ bar. “It’s been pulling me towards someplace over that way. Either of you want to have a gander?”
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