THUD!
The shinobi chef fell to the floor hard on the throne room of the palace of the Island of Dimona. Kara and Alana both walked around him as he knelt.
"Whatever we do, we gotta be quick or he'll attempt suicide," Kara warned.
"Seppuku?" Alana asked confirming.
"What is that?"
"Committing a honorable suicide," Alana said walking to the man. She grabbed the shinobi by the hair and looked him over, moving his head that way and moving his head the other way. "He cooks good ramen, you say?" Kara nodded her head. "The fact he set out to kill you means he works for the high Alpha. Hana is such a large section of Canas so its gonna be hard to find unless," she said looking at the man. She squatted down to be at his level. "Who and wear is your Alpha?"
SPAT!
"Ewww," Kara laughed as Alana wiped away the spit.
Alana stood up and walked around the man. She held out her hand, a knife conjured into it with her magae.
"Since he likes the act of seppuku so much," she said.
SLASH!
She stabbed the man in the neck. He quickly began to choke and grapple with the blood. She placed her hand over his wound, "Aqua senere," she said, healing it.
"What about now?"
"Never!"
The shinobi chef's defiance was cut short as Alana's blade flashed again, this time sinking deeper into his neck.
Blood pooled beneath him, warm and soaking into the polished marble floor. His breath came in ragged, wet gasps, fingers scrabbling at the wounds as if he could physically hold his life inside.
Still the man didn't talk so Alana simply shrugged her shoulders and used her magae to allow the blade to work on its own. As she and Kara left the room, the blade would enter and leave, he would heal, more magae and repeat.
There was a garden the two women walked to that was just a ways from the palace, a lovely garden, different that what was the norm on the island.
Each step Kara and Alana took through the garden was met with the crunch of gravel beneath their feet. The air was thick with the scent of blooming flowers.
Cherry blossom petals drifted lazily from the trees, catching the light as they spiraled downward like pink snowflakes.
Kara settled onto a stone bench, its surface cool against her thighs even through the fabric of her pants. She leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees, fingers loosely interlaced.
Alana sat beside her, closer than necessary, her posture rigid. Spine straight, hands folded in her lap.
It was a couple of days later, Sous stood in an alley with her hands in her pockets wearing a suit, a black suit. It was raining and she stood under a canopy as her eyes were out in the distance.
Splash, splash!
Kara ran up to Sous with an umbrella in her hand. She gave it to Sous who placed it over both of their heads.
"What are you wearing?" Sous asked.
"Its called a kimono," she answered. "This area used to be called Oromo and belonged to the voodoo magae, the priests and priestesses. I wonder where they went off to?"
"If I had known they lived over here, I'd had asked myself when I was with them during the threading," Sous said.
The rain fell harder now, turning the alley into a glistening ribbon of black asphalt. Sous adjusted the umbrella slightly, her fingers tightening around the handle.
Kara's kimono clung to her shoulders, the dark fabric growing heavier with moisture despite the shelter overhead. A droplet traced the curve of Sous's jawline before disappearing beneath her collar. Neither moved to wipe it away.
The alley walls pressed close, streaked with decades of grime and newer graffiti, charcoal symbols from a language neither woman knew but recognized
The smell of wet concrete mixed with distant frying oil from a street vendor's cart three blocks over. Sous breathed in through her nose, exhaled slowly through pursed lips. Kara mirrored the motion unconsciously, their shoulders nearly touching.
The mansion stood as a monochrome painting against the storm, dark wooden beams cutting sharp angles against cream-colored plaster walls. A steep tiled roof curved slightly at the edges.
Its surface slick with rain that cascaded off in silver sheets. Paper lanterns hung motionless along the engawa veranda, their glow muted behind soaked rice paper.
Sous and Kara walked the alley that allowed them to enter into a wooded area with a trail. They took the trail to the mansion.
The rain slowed down to a drizzle as the two women walked along the wooded path. Kara's kimono swished softly against the damp undergrowth, the hem catching on twigs and leaves that snapped back into place behind her.
Sous's shoes, the polished leather, now ruined, left deep imprints in the mud. Each step made her sulk even more. She had spent a good amount of don on this suit.
They came to the border of the mansion where there seemed to be a message board. The couple stepped to it with Sous pointing at the images of bounties.
"Hey, theres you," she said. Kara rolled her eyes and used her magae to disguise herself as a different woman: a blonde with pink eyes, and pink lip gloss.
The Omega looked at Sous. "How do I look?"
"Beautiful but not as good as your true self," Sous made sure to say.
They stood at the mansion doors, hearing the faint sounds of a body going on inside.
The guards didn't notice Sous and Kara at first, too busy staring straight ahead with glassy eyes, their fingers twitching near sword hilts slick from rain.
They moved with the stiff precision of marionettes, each step perfectly synchronized across the wooden decking.
Their sandals made no sound. Not even a creak nor a splash. Even the rain seemed to avoid them, droplets curving unnaturally around their oiled straw rain cloaks.
Kara and Sous made no attempt to defend themselves.