The rain in Okinawa was relentless. It hammered against the roof of the electric van like handfuls of gravel thrown by an angry god.
Inside, the air was thick with the metallic tang of blood and the ozone smell of fear.
Ren gripped the steering wheel so hard the leather creaked. He was driving purely on adrenaline and GPS instructions, weaving through the back roads of Naha to avoid the main surveillance grids. Every pair of headlights in the rearview mirror made his heart stop.
"Sector 4 is blocked," David rasped from the passenger seat. He was staring at a tablet, his face illuminated by the harsh blue light of the map. "Chimera has locked down the highway. They're funneling traffic toward the checkpoints."
"We can't go through a checkpoint," Ren said, his voice trembling. "Not with... not with the cargo."
He didn't mean the weapons. He meant the girl in the back. And the case.
In the rear of the van, Kai sat opposite Saya. He held a rag to his bleeding head wound, but he didn't feel the pain. He felt a sickness in his gut that had nothing to do with the concussion.
Saya hadn't moved in forty minutes.
She was sitting cross-legged on the vibrating metal floor, the cello case laid across her lap. Her arms were wrapped around it, her cheek pressed against the cold black leather. Her eyes were open, staring at a rusted bolt on the opposite wall, but there was no light behind them. The fierce red glow of the Queen was gone, replaced by a muddy, hollow brown.
"Saya," Kai whispered.
She didn't blink.
"Saya, you need to drink water," Kai tried again, reaching for a bottle that had rolled onto the floor.
When his hand came within six inches of the cello case, Saya moved.
It was a blur of motion. Her hand snapped out, grabbing Kai's wrist. Her grip was like a vice—steel wrapped in velvet. She didn't look at him. She just held his arm, squeezing until Kai's bones ground together.
"Don't touch him," she said. Her voice was flat. Dead.
"Saya, it's me," Kai gasped, wincing. "It's Kai. I'm not going to hurt him."
"He's sleeping," she murmured, releasing his wrist as quickly as she had grabbed it. She returned to stroking the leather lid of the case. " The noise wakes him up. You have to be quiet."
Kai rubbed his bruised wrist, exchanging a terrified look with David in the rearview mirror.
"She's in shock," David said quietly, not turning around. "Her mind has fractured to protect itself from the trauma. Don't push her, Kai."
"She thinks he's in there," Kai hissed, keeping his voice low. "She thinks he's alive."
"Let her think it," David said grimly. "We need her functional enough to get on the boat. If she breaks down completely, we're all dead."
"We're approaching the docks," Ren announced, cutting the tension. "Port Terminal 9. It looks dark."
"It's supposed to be dark," David said, checking his pistol. "My contact is a smuggler named Jiro. He runs 'High-Tech Waste' to Taiwan. He owes me a life debt."
"Does he owe you enough to smuggle a vampire Queen and a box of dust past a paramilitary blockade?" Ren asked, slowing the van down.
"We're about to find out."
The Naha Port was a labyrinth of shipping containers stacked five stories high, forming canyons of rusted steel. The rain slicked the pavement, reflecting the rotating yellow beams of the security towers.
Ren killed the headlights. He navigated the van through the shadows, the electric engine humming barely above a whisper.
"Stop here," David ordered.
They parked in the shadow of a massive crane. The ocean was visible through a gap in the containers—black, churning, and angry. A rusted freighter, the Iron Lotus, bobbed in the swell.
"Stay in the van," David commanded. "I'll signal Jiro. If you see anyone who isn't me, run."
The old man opened the door and limped out into the rain, leaning heavily on his cane. He disappeared into the gloom.
Inside the van, the silence returned.
Kai looked at his son. Ren was shaking. He was nineteen years old, a mechanic who fixed drones and hacked video games. He had never seen a man die before tonight. He had certainly never seen a man shatter into glass.
"You okay?" Kai asked softly.
Ren let out a shaky breath. "He just... he stepped right in front of it, Dad. He didn't even hesitate."
"I know," Kai said, the guilt twisting like a knife in his chest.
"Why?" Ren asked, turning in his seat to look at Kai. "You said he was a monster. A vampire. Why save... us?"
"Because he loved her," Kai said, looking at Saya. "And he knew that if I died, part of her would die too."
Saya didn't react to their conversation. She was whispering to the case again.
"Do you remember Paris?" she murmured to the leather. "It rained there too. You held the umbrella. You always held the umbrella."
Ren looked at her, his expression a mix of pity and horror. "Dad... is she gonna be okay?"
"I don't know, Ren," Kai admitted.
Suddenly, three sharp knocks echoed on the side of the van.
Kai jumped.
The back doors swung open. David stood there, soaked to the bone, water dripping from his white hair. Beside him stood a short, wiry man with a cybernetic eye and a mouth full of gold teeth.
"This is the cargo?" the man, Jiro, asked, peering into the van. His mechanical eye whirred as it scanned Saya. "She looks like a teenager. You said 'High Value Asset'."
"She is," David growled. "Is the boat ready?"
"Boat is ready," Jiro spat, looking nervous. "But the price just went up. Chimera patrols are swarming the bay. I have to bribe three drone operators to look the other way."
"Put it on my tab," David said. "Just get us out of here."
"Everyone out!" Jiro hissed. "Quickly! Before the sweep comes back around."
Kai grabbed his bag. "Saya, come on. We have to move."
Saya didn't move. She stared at the open doors, at the rain falling outside.
"Saya!" Kai said, sharper this time.
She looked up at him, fear flickering in her eyes. "It's wet. He hates the wet. It messes up the tuning."
"We'll cover him," Kai promised. He took off his jacket and held it out. "Look. We'll cover the case. He won't feel a drop."
Saya studied the jacket. Slowly, hesitantly, she nodded. She allowed Kai to drape the jacket over the cello case.
She stood up, lifting the case with an ease that belied its weight. She stepped out of the van, her shoes splashing in a puddle.
"Follow me," Jiro whispered.
They moved in a single file line through the maze of containers. Jiro led, followed by David, then Ren, with Kai and Saya bringing up the rear.
They were halfway to the ship when the sound started.
Whirrrrrrr.
It was a low, buzzing sound, like a swarm of angry hornets.
David stopped. He held up a fist. "Freeze."
"Drone," Jiro cursed under his breath. "Hunter-Killer model. It's off its patrol path."
A spotlight swept across the top of the containers above them. A sleek, black drone, armed with a mini-gun, hovered over the canyon they were walking through.
"Under the overhang!" David whispered.
They pressed themselves against the side of a blue shipping container. The spotlight swept the ground inches from their feet.
Saya stood rigid, hugging the case. Her eyes were fixed on the drone.
"Bad noise," she whispered. The pupils of her eyes began to dilate, shifting from brown to red. "Loud."
"Saya, shh," Kai pleaded, pressing a hand to her shoulder.
The drone stopped. It hovered directly above them. It didn't see them yet, but its sensors were sniffing for heat signatures.
"Thermal masking isn't working," Ren whispered, tapping his wrist computer frantically. "The rain is messing with the interference."
The drone rotated. The gun barrel spun up.
It had found them.
"Run!" David yelled.
He stepped out from cover, raising his pistol and firing three shots at the drone's rotors. Sparks flew, but the drone stabilized instantly.
BRRRRRT.
Bullets chewed up the pavement where David had been standing a second before. He dove behind a crate, rolling on his bad hip with a grunt of pain.
"Get to the gangplank!" Jiro shouted, bolting toward the ship.
Ren grabbed Kai's arm. "Dad, go!"
They ran. The drone banked, ignoring David to track the larger group.
Kai looked back.
Saya wasn't running.
She was standing in the middle of the open path, the rain soaking her school uniform. She was looking up at the drone with an expression of pure, cold annoyance.
"Saya!" Kai screamed. "MOVE!"
The drone locked onto her. The red laser sight painted a dot on the cello case in her arms.
That was the mistake.
Saya saw the red dot on the leather case.
Her face twisted. It wasn't fear. It was outrage.
"Don't point that at him," she snarled.
She didn't drop the case. She shifted it to her left hand, holding the heavy object effortlessly. With her right hand, she reached down and grabbed a loose metal locking bar—a solid steel rod used to secure containers—from the ground.
It weighed fifty pounds. She lifted it like it was a twig.
The drone fired.
Saya moved. She didn't dodge away; she dodged forward. She leaped, clearing ten feet of vertical distance in a single bound.
She swung the steel rod like a baseball bat.
CRUNCH.
The metal rod sheared through the drone's rotor housing and smashed into the central chassis. The drone exploded in a fireball of sparks and battery acid.
Saya landed in a crouch, the flaming wreckage raining down around her. She stood up, tossing the bent steel rod aside. She brushed a speck of soot off the jacket covering the cello case.
"Quiet," she whispered to the wreckage.
Jiro, who had reached the gangplank, stared at her with his mouth open. "What... what is she?"
"She's the cargo," David said, limping up behind them, breathless. "Now get us on that boat before the rest of the swarm shows up."
The Iron Lotus was a rust bucket, but it was fast.
Ten minutes later, they were clearing the harbor breakwater, the engine thrumming beneath the deck. The lights of Naha were fading into the misty distance.
They were huddled in the cargo hold, sitting on crates of questionable electronics. Jiro had given them blankets and a lantern before heading up to the bridge to pilot the ship.
Ren was slumped against a wall, shaking from the adrenaline crash. David was tending to his hip, grimacing.
Kai sat next to Saya.
She had removed the jacket from the case. She was inspecting the leather for damage, running her fingers over every inch.
"He's okay," she murmured. "No scratches."
"You saved us back there, Saya," Kai said gently.
Saya didn't look at him. She opened the case just a crack—enough to slip her hand inside.
Kai watched, holding his breath.
She kept her hand there for a long time, her eyes closed, a look of intense concentration on her face. She was waiting for something. A signal. A voice. A pulse.
The boat rocked on a heavy wave.
Saya's expression crumbled. She pulled her hand out.
"He's quiet tonight," she whispered, her voice trembling. "He's so quiet."
"Maybe he's resting," Ren offered from the corner, trying to play along with the delusion because he didn't know what else to do.
Saya looked at Ren. Her eyes were wet. "He promised he would never leave me. But I can't hear him."
She curled around the case, pulling her knees up, making herself as small as possible.
"Don't leave me," she sobbed into the leather. "Please, Hagi. Don't leave me alone with them. I don't know how to be without you."
Kai reached out to put an arm around her, but he stopped. He realized, with a heartbreaking clarity, that he couldn't comfort her. He wasn't the one she wanted. He was the reason Hagi was dead.
He pulled his hand back.
"We're going to Taiwan," David said, breaking the silence. His voice was gruff, but his eyes were sad. "From there, we figure out the next move. We need to find out who Chimera is, and why they woke you up."
"I don't care," Saya mumbled into the case.
"You have to care," David said. "Because they aren't going to stop. They killed Hagi, Saya. If you want to make that mean something, you have to fight."
At the mention of Hagi's death, Saya flinched.
"He's not dead," she whispered, a dangerous edge returning to her voice. She looked up at David, her eyes flashing red in the lantern light. "Don't say that word."
David held her gaze for a second, then looked away. "Get some sleep, Saya."
Saya laid her head back down on the case. The rhythmic thrumming of the ship's engine vibrated through the floor, masking the sound of her weeping.
Kai watched the island of Okinawa disappear into the dark horizon.
Thirty years ago, he had watched Saya leave this island to go to war. She had come back broken, but she had come back with Hagi.
Now, she was leaving again. And this time, she was truly alone.