"Then show me what you've got," he said.
A pause.
"Show me the true power of the Heavenly Gum." Paper-cut said.
"No." ayame said bluntly.
The word landed like a stone in still water.
Paper Cut tilted his head slightly, the black spirals on his mask catching the light. "...Heh?"
Ayame stepped forward, the Phoenix Idol still wrapped in her grandfather's coat. "These are the powers I despise most. That—" she swung the idol hard, smashing a paper man's head sideways, "—is the side of me I refuse to become."
Her breath came sharp as the paper man crumpled at her feet.
A flicker of memory—black silhouettes of children in the fog.
Monster.
Freak.
Stay away from her.
Their voices bled together in her skull until she clenched her teeth and clicked her tongue.
"Getting distracted mid-fight isn't the best habit for the last Boshin heir," Paper Cut remarked lazily.
Moments ago, Hollow crane, Level 14, Grand kitchen.
A pancake spun lazily through the air, landing in the pan with a soft hiss.
Two blonde girls who belonged to kitchen staff perched at the counter clapped, their barstools squeaking as they leaned in.
"Perfect flip, chef! That's gotta be, what—fiftieth today?" one teased.
The cook—Man with two neat braids and swirly moustache smirked and said as he swirled his stache "what can i say ladies? It's a gift."
The phone rang twice.
It was answered by a man in a white sleeveless coat over a yellow shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbow. His wavy black hair shifted as he pressed the receiver to his ear.
"Fourteenth floor," he said—then paused. His expression darkened. "What?"
The stached chef turned around towards the telephone counter.
Both blonde women froze mid-motion, exchanging uneasy glances.
The white coat man hung up the phone muttering "dammit."
The stached chef spoke, "what's up?" he said, hesitantly.
The white-coat man's voice dropped. " Young lord has been captured. By the monk."
Caption:
Name: Sanjay Vishwakarma( Bartender )
Affiliation:Operations Commander, Beggar Clan
Nero Ability: **********
"What?!" The braided cook said.
"They're in the elevator now," Sanjay continued.
the blonde girls exclaimed and said. "What do we do?"(in unison)
"Cut the elevator cable?" Braids suggested, while he swayed his spatula.
Caption:
Name: Zafar(Head Chef)
Title: Beggar Clan
Nero Ability: **********
"We can't—Young lord's still in there," Sanjay snapped. "First, we make an announcement."
"Let's contact everyone."
Sanjay's gaze snapped to blonde women. " Tune in the walkies of every floor, skip the fifteenth. Boss can't catch wind of this."
girls gave a curt nod and began twisting the dials on his walkie-talkie and a machine placed on the counter, static hissing faintly. "Channels one through fourteen, linked."
Sanjay slid on the slim earpiece, the soft click of connection sounding in his ear. He pressed a finger against it, voice dropping into a clipped, commanding tone.
Sanjay's voice, low but cutting, into the walkie:
"All Hollow Crane personnel… listen carefully."
Level 11, Boxing Gym
Two men freeze mid-spar. Sweat drips from their brows as they glance toward a walkie crackling on a bench.
"The young lord has been captured…"
One boxer snatches up the device.
"What the hell…?" he mutters.
In the far corner, a janitor sits cross-legged on the floor.
A mask hides the lower half of his face, a cap pulled low over his eyes. His cleaning kit rests beside him, mop handles shooting out like a spear from the bucket.
The faint static of the walkie reaches him. His head tilts—just slightly—that announcement got his attention.
Level 7, Arcade Hall
A group of young men in bomber jackets lean over their own buzzing walkie.
"The target and the young lord are in the elevator — the man is a monk. Neutralize him and secure the young lord at all costs."
The tallest of the teens slings a baseball bat over his shoulder.
"This could be our shot," he says, tightening his grip.
They walked towards the elevator, pressed the calling button and waited, stances ready to face whatever is coming.
The men stare at the floor display above the elevator.
5… 6…
They waited, the ding of the lift stopping at each lower floor echoing closer.
Then came the muffled sounds—shouts, swings of metal blades, wet thuds. Gun shots.
The group exchanged uneasy glances.
Level 14, Grand Kitchen.
Sanjay pulls the earpiece slightly away. His gaze snaps to blonds.
"Did you cut the transmission to the young lord's walkie?"
Blonds don't answer. They puts up an expression as if they messed it up.
Sanjay's brow twitched, in frustration.
Level 7, arcade.
The elevator arrives, the number "7" being displayed on the display above the elevator, the men look at it in dread.
The golden doors didn't open.
Instead, a thin ribbon of blood seeped from the gap, winding across the carpet toward their shoes. The sharp, metallic stench of blood hit their noses.
One of them swallowed hard.
"...What the hell's in there?"
With a slow, almost taunting ding, the doors began to part, releasing the warmth of the fresh hot blood out to the floor.
Inside—was a Slaughterhouse.
Corpses slumped in corners.
Bodies piled like broken mannequins.
The walls were painted in red, blood splattered in wide arcs and blood kept flowing outside as if the elevator cabin itself was trying to vomit out the violence.
Kaito stood at the center.
Sword in one hand, its edge dripping thick crimson.
Jinta in the other, clothes soaked through.
A walkie was clipped to Jinta's waist, still hissing faintly with Sanjay's muffled orders.
Kaito heard it all, he looked at the men. His voice was quiet, almost bored:
"So… they're stopping the lift at every floor now."
(beat.)
"Such a drag."