Chapter 157: Territory
“I’m a reasonable man,” Thatch says, his voice calm. “So this was simple. One of your boys stabbed one of my girls.”
“Protective,” Bloodstain teases. “How gentlemanly.”
Thatch smiles brightly, his handsome face crinkling as he drags his fingers through his hair. “Let’s keep it simple. I want this island, and the one north of it.”
Bloodstain taps her lips. “That’ll cost me, Hush,” she drawls.
Relaxed, Thatch gives a shrug. “It’ll also cost you to kill us.”
She smiles at that, brightly, ferally, and nods. “Oh, it would.”
Wind whistles between them, her hair swaying gently in it, heavy as iron. Thatch’s sways elegantly, framing his face. The wind demands a moment of silence, and only when it recedes, does he speak again. “Now, I am reasonable,” he says, putting a hand to his chest with a gentle smile. “We could help you take some territory from another band.”
Bloodstain tilts her head, then slowly nods. “Aviary has been getting uppity,” she says quietly. “New weapons, or something like that. Been causing real trouble for some of my kids, you see…” She lays a hand on her cheek, pouting. “It’d be very nice if you could give them a bit of a taste of their own medicine, Hush,” she purrs.
Thatch frowns, but nods. “Sure. In exchange…”
“Yes, yes,” she waves him off with a smile. “Two islands of Aviary, and you get to keep the two you want. A simple deal, yes?” Her teeth are sharp.
“Sure, I agree,” Thatch says.
“Then let’s make a contract-”
“Absolutely not,” Thatch says, staring her down.
Rather than being upset, Bloodstain just smiles. She brings a finger to her lips, slowly dragging it across them. “Smart man,” she says with a wicked grin. Then, in one swift motion, she turns. “Two weeks!” she calls out as she leaves, waving her hand.
Cleaver steps towards us with a snarl for one second, but with another twist of her fingers, he clenches his chest in pain. The brand must be right above his heart. He snarls at Thatch, but turns around, and stomps off. So do the rogue and the bruiser, the swashbuckler and the knuckleduster-user.
They glare at us, but in the end, they leave. “Oh, once more question, Hush,” Bloodstain asks over her shoulder. “What shall we call your little gathering?” Her voice is daring him to speak.
At the question, Thatch just smiles. “Crybabies,” he says calmly.
I can practically see Bloodstain’s confusion on her features. “... Right,” she says, frowning properly for the first time. “Good luck, Hush, leader of the Crybabies.”
Then she vanishes. And a small sigh leaves my lips. Inu looks at me with care in her eyes, gently laying a hand on my shoulder. “Snow?” she asks. “You okay?”
Dramatically, I pause, letting the silence hang, then I sigh again. “I didn’t get to introduce myself with another fake name,” I say, dramatically. Instantly, Opal bursts out in laughter, and Thatch snickers.
It’s good to have friends.
[Level Up!]
[76 > 78]
And it’s good to have more mana.
- - -
With our new base secured, one to the east of Zinc’s, we have a rather safe place to send people. Of course, being the “gang” in charge of an island also means we’re generally expected to take care of people there. Not like… properly, but the guards aren’t exactly present in most of the slums, their sporadic controls doing little.
Instead, it’s people like, well, us, apparently, who uphold a proper order. That’s how I end up holding a kid by the scruff of his neck, high in the air, while they squirms in my arms.
The young sumeen hums angrily in my hand, their arms writhing into little sickles, trying to cut into my skin, but it’s too tough for them. The recent training has given me a couple more natural points in all stats. Their crude sharps don’t do much, and I stare at them with the blank mask on my face.
“Who… the fall are you?!” they demand.
I tilt my head, and smile underneath the mask. “Kuro,” I reply easily. “Part of Crybabies. We took this place from Bloodline. Means no more stealing.”
With a casual motion, I toss the sumeen to the ground. Not too roughly. In fact, I even dampen their fall with the shadows. Just enough to communicate that I’m a big scary thug. Okay, maybe not that big. Sumeen are tall, and even this kid is almost as tall as me.
Still, as I squat over them, they look at me and give a soft hum of fear. The blank mask works wonders against kids. I tilt my head, making the motion slow and unsettling. “Are you hungry?” I ask.
They give a dry note of fear. “N-no.”
“If you lie to me, I’ll be very upset.”
That seems to make them rethink. “Yes,” they hum, a swift, high pitch note. I nod, slowly, then reach into my coat. Kuro is wrapped around me, cloaking me in darkness almost entirely. With rainwater pearling down my hand, I reach out to them… and drop a few bronze chits on the ground.
“Go. Zinc’s inn, one island west. Buy a meal,” I tell them.
For a single moment, they’re too scared to take the coins, but then they think better of it, nod, take them, and run off. “And no more stealing!” I yell after them. “Or I’ll find you!”
The rain might’ve swallowed the words, but that’s fine. Instead of complaining about it, I just hum, stepping through the streets, sweeping my mana across them in looks for more trouble.
[Observation 17 > 18]
It only takes like fifteen minutes until I find some desperate idiot trying to shank someone else in an alley. With a sweep of my cloak, I step into the fight, and when my shadows blot out the sparse light, both of the ruffians freeze.
Slowly, their eyes turn to me. “I’m so falling dead,” one whispers. The other just stares.
“No killing,” I tell them simply. “You,” I point at the mugger. “What are you trying to steal.”
There’s a pause, a long silence. “What?” he asks.
I roll my eyes, then repeat my words, even signing them with my hand as I speak. “What. Are. You. Stealing?”
He looks at me, crystal wings flared wide in alarm, then looks at the sumeen he’s holding at knifepoint. “Uh, well… coin?” he says quietly. “This falling feck stole sum a’ mine!”
The sumeen hums in reply to that, their notes shaky. “N-not true!”
Tilting my head, I speak. “I can smell it if you lie.”
“I didn’t falling do it!” they hum urgently. About as close to a cry as one can get without an open mouth.
Shaking them, the mugger snarls. “Like hell you dinnae!”
Again, I roll my eyes, then summon a wall of shadow between them. Kuro, my lovely and helpful companion, allows me to do this excellently, drawing from my mana. I should take alternate personas more often. Gaslighting people is funny.
Drawing that small joy from the chaos, I separate the two. Then, with a swift movement, I sock the mugger in the face. It’s a simple punch, doesn’t even break anything, but he still recoils in pain. “Don’t fricken stab people over coins, moron.”
“But they-”
“Complain and I smack you again,” I say simply.
The scithian man looks at me, eyes wide, wings flared, then gives a groan of disappointment. “Fine,” he growls. “I’ll falling… fine, yeah. Whatever.” He moves to walk away, then turns to me. “Who even are you?”
“Kuro. From Crybabies. We own this territory now.”
“Ah, feck it all,” he groans. “Fine I’ll find somewhere else to falling live. Piece of…” he mutters more curses as he skulks off, disappearing into the rain. A moment later, the summeen slumps against a wall.
They hum me a quiet thanks, and I give them a nod. With a smooth motion, I toss them a bandage roll Sylves gave me. I keep a couple in my coat for situations like this. “Wrap yourself, don’t bleed out,” I tell them. “Get a meal, then some sleep. You’ll be right as rain tomorrow.”
“Right as rain…” they hum with a weak chuckle, taking the bandage with shaky fingers. “Right, Kuro. Right. Crybabies…” another chuckle. “Funny names. Scary people. I’ll behave.”
“Good,” I nod. Then, feeling my social battery already drained, I walk back out of the alley, continuing my patrol with wide sweeps of [Observation]. A frown is etched on my lips. Who knew patrolling was such a chore.
When I finally see Sylves’ legs dangling from the edge of a building, I know my shift is done and I let out a sigh of relief. Walking is good training with the cruncher on. “Faefae,” I call happily to her, and her gaze snaps to me as I lower my [Obfuscation]. Instantly, her lips bloom into a smile.
“Yes, my dearest shade?” she asks.
“Have you come to relieve me of troubles with these peasants?”
She smiles even brighter. “Why indeed. I, the gracious faerie, shall take over this burden for you!” she haughtily poses, placing her one arm on her chest as she floats down from the building, translucent wings of wind she’s taken to shaping fluttering behind her.
“How magnanimous,” I reply with a small smile.
Sylves laughs, and it rings out even through the rain. “Go and enchant some things, Snow,” she whispers to my ear. “You’ve another gang to supply.”
“I’ll make sure the knives are so sharp you bleed out on them,” I threaten her warmly.
Another giggle leaves her lips. “See that you do, shade. Anything less than your best iron is too pathetic for this faerie.”
And so, Kuro disappears into the night, and I step back into the inn as Yuki, wearing my dark cloak, but without the stygian mask and an entirely human face. There are more deals to be done. And, at least for a while, I’ve been relieved from the troubles of dealing with thieves and murderers.
Time for me to screw with another gang.
Chapter 158: Solution
Raven snarls at me. “Yuki,” they say slowly, humming in anger, feather cloak standing on end. “Your weapons grow sharper and so do your prices, again?”
Gingerly, I nod. “Indeed. Surely this is still worthwhile.”
“Halve the increase,” Raven demands.
Nodding gently, I wave a hand. “Done,” I say. “Let none say I’m unkind to you, Raven. I heard Aviary has been having some trouble recently.”
The sumeen gives me a dangerous hum as they lean back in their chair, tilting their head. In sync with them, every raven in the cages does the same. “Yes,” they hum quietly. Low and full of hidden anger. “Yes, quite some. Bloodline has been sponsoring an upstart.”
I raise my eyebrows in surprise. “An upstart?”
“Crybabies,” they hum, saying the word as if it was an insult. The den breaks out in snickers, the run-down shithole of a building filling with mocking snickers. “A new gang to give us trouble. Contesting our newly gained territories. And every time one of my little birdies dies, we lose another set of your gear, even when there’s no visible runes. The bodies are looted, every. Time.”
“How bothersome,” I reply empathetically. At the same time, I place the bag of gear I brought on the table - gear that has been… recycled. Definitely not taken off the bodies of any little birds we dispatched. Nope. I would never sell Raven the same things over and over again. Not me.
They eye the bag, humming, then placing down the coin. “Make more,” they say, “and you’ll be rewarded. I need weapons to crush these upstarts. Give me your best, Yuki. Do not disappoint.”
“What kind of reward?” I ask gently.
Raven gives me a long, displeased stare. “Monolith,” they say finally, and suddenly, a hush falls over the den.
“The mono, boss?” one of the goons dares to ask, and instantly, Raven raises a hand. Dark feathers dart through the air, nailing the poor woman to the wall by her cloak.
“Yes,” Raven hums. It’s a low hum, a promising hum. “Yes, a mono token. We’ll squeeze the guards and get you in, Yuki. Just bring me more weapons. Simple, right?”
The sumeen makes those last words sound almost pleasant, but I don’t miss the threat under it. They’re on edge. Can’t take a betrayal. They’ve gone from fighting on one front to two fronts, and that’s trouble. Raven’s scared, and that makes them desperate.
Nodding quietly, I give my agreement. “Yes, Raven,” I say.
“You’ll still owe me for the token,” they threaten. “But only a small favour if you deliver here.”
Again, I nod. “I will do my best, Raven.”
“No,” they hum with a shake of their head. Then, they lean in real close. “You will not try, Yuki. You succeed. Or I’ll have to dispose of you, understood?”
I don’t have to fake the shiver that runs through me. They might think it’s fear, but really, they’re just in my personal space. I step back, just slightly, and Raven hums in malicious glee at that. “Yes, Raven,” I reply, timidly.
“Good,” they say, finally getting out of my face and waving a long limb. “Go, Yuki. Go and bring me more weapons.”
Obediently, I leave. As soon as I’m outside, I let the smile blossom on my lips, as I run my fingers across the chits, rubbing their pleasantly smooth surfaces, toying with the magic in the coins.
If I’d known gang wars were so profitable, I should’ve engineered one earlier.
- - -
This time, I find Anna outside their humble shack, biting her lips. It makes sense - it’s been three days since I visited. Running a territory is busy work, even when I don’t need to sleep too much. Perpetual pursuit courses through my veins, suppressing such simple needs.
When I approach, she instantly turns vigilant, drawing a dagger. “Who are you?” the feryran demands. I’m tempted to think of her as young, but she’s really only a tiny bit younger than me, so I try not to.
Instead, I just drop my [Obfuscation].
[Obfuscation 4 > 5]
What a lovely skill, I think happily. “Just me,” I tell Anna.
“Yuki,” she breathes, still using that silly alias. I smile and nod.
“Snow,” I tell her.
Her forehead crinkles. “It’s the same word, but it sounds different,” she says quietly.
“It’s a different language,” I explain.
“Ah,” she says. Then pauses, then gives a thin smile. “Snow, then?”
I shrug. “Yes, Snow.”
As soon as the name-related silliness passes, it finally sinks in for her. I watch as her eyes widen, grey orbs fixated on me. “You’re alive,” she breathes, and I nod. “Are you alright? Did you get hurt?”
“Sadly, yes,” I nod. “But I got better. You should’ve seen the other people.”
Anna giggles, and dashes at me, as if looking for a hug. I awkwardly step back for a moment, then stiffen as she slams into me anyway. With controlled motions, I pat her head twice. “Alright, uh, I’m okay hugging you, but please try to ask.”
“Oh!” she gasps, quickly pulling away. “Sorry, I-”
“You didn’t know, yes, yes.” I sigh softly. “It’s alright.”
A small flush of shame creeps onto her face, turning her silver skin bronzen. “Uh, my brother. Trey, he’s… awake. But I’d still like for you to treat him.”
I nod slowly. “Alright.” Until now, I’d left before he woke up. Anna told Trey of some vague doctor, so he wouldn’t be scared. She didn’t want me to see them too vulnerable. Maybe worrying about my death changed it? What a curious critter she is.
With swift steps, the thief slips inside the house, and I follow her. Trey is sitting upright, wrapped in blankets up against the wall. There’s no true bed, but he lays on raised platforms, under a shielded roof. His eyes snap to the door. “Anna!” he calls in a childish voice, ringing like a hammer on metal. “You’re back! I was-” Then, he spots me, and his eyes widen.
Moving inside, the older sister quickly kneels next to him. “Hello Trey. This is Snow,” she explains, gesturing at me. “The healer who has been taking care of you.”
“Hi,” I say, raising a hand awkwardly.
The kid still stares at me, wide-eyed. Then, he yells. “You’re a hea-?!”
Anna smacks her hand onto his mouth, making his strands of silvery hair sway. “Shhhh,” she says, pressing a finger to her lips. “Remember what I told you?”
“Right!” Trey whispers urgently, gasping at his own inadequacy. “It’s a secret!”
I watch their antics with my usual expression. Dull, almost painted on, tilting my head just a little as it goes on. The needles in his chest are almost used up, just their tips still sitting in his skin. The holes have widened a little, probably since he moved, but they’re not big enough to be too troublesome, all of them already scabbed over, new metal already crawling to replace the broken skin.
Very slowly, I approach, and kneel next to him. Trey watches me, bug-eyed.
“Anna said you might die,” he whispers conspiratorially.
“Indeed, I did,” I lie.
His eyes widen even more. “What?” he asks quietly, barely restraining his voice.
In reply, I just give a shrug. “I decided death wasn’t that nice after all, so I got back up.”
[The Embrace hums in amusement.]
Looking at the notification, I smile at the boy. “In fact, death seems to have taken a liking to me. Maybe next time, they’ll be nicer.”
Trey stares at me as if I was insane, stuck between believing and doubting every word. I see him swallow heavily as I take a good look at his vessel. I tilt my head as I watch.
The cracks are mending, but it’s slow and more jagged than when I forge my own. His natural regeneration probably isn’t quite strong enough. Still, if he finishes it, he can start levelling, and if he starts levelling, he can put points in heart and vessel, hopefully healing.
Nodding to myself, I reapply the suppression loop, giving him a slightly improved version that’s just a little more efficient. Then, I refill the needles, making sure they’re properly in place, and aligned with the skill’s lattice. Trey watches in fascination as my mana moves, giving small gasps.
I watch as Anna smiles at her brother’s wonder. She seems to be so pleased to see him smile. It’s almost infectious. Almost.
Checking everything twice to make sure it’s done properly, I nod to myself. Then, I reach into my coat, pulling out a small item. “Trey?” I say carefully.
The kid looks at me, nodding quickly. “Yes, doctor?”
Finally, the title makes me smile. What a silly kid. With a small gesture, I place the item into his hand. “This,” I tell him, “is a core.” Instantly, Anna’s eyes widen. It’s not just a normal core, of course. I’ve modified its structure, basically carving formations on its inside with mana. It was a huge pain, and I broke three of them in the attempt, but Raven was nice enough to ‘deliver’ more of them to me. Truly, what a benevolent gang boss.
[Inscription 22 > 23]
[Solidification 22> 23]
[Job up! Core Controller 2 > 4]
Trey nods, having no idea what a core is, evidently. I don’t bother explaining. Instead, I just nod at him. “You can give this to your sister whenever you can feel the sickness coming back, yeah? She can feed it some of her own mana, and then that’ll be used to keep you healthy.”
It took me most of my free time these last three days to actually make it work, but seeing the kid’s eyes widen, and the way Anna’s mouth drops open makes it almost worth it. The mana and practice I gain from it makes it fully worthwhile.
“We… Snow, we can’t-”
“In fact,” I say quietly. “I’d ask you to head to the island two to the east of here. The one recently taken over by Crybabies. Find a spot there.”
Before Anna can protest, before the wonder in Trey’s eyes fades, I rise to my feet, my single arm dangling by my side. I look at both of them one more time. “Be kind to yourselves,” I tell them. “It’s okay to cry.”
Then, before another word is spoken, I wreathe myself in [Obfuscation], pouring mana into the skill while keeping a tight rein on it.
[Obfuscation 5 > 6]
I step outside and take a breath of the cold air. It’s snowing tonight. Soft flakes drift down, and I pull off my hood, letting them rest in my hair, turning even its dark roots a pure white. For a moment, I just stand still.
Breathe in. Out. Back in. Let myself enjoy the few seconds of emotion before my Abiding Apathy swallows it, and the smile on my face returns to my base, deadpan expression. Some part of me mourns the joy.
In response, my mana roils. I walk across the streets, east, to the inn. My own vessel cracks again, my mana suffusing its sides, slowly turning it more forgeable.
[Vessel Construction 7 > 8]
[Class up! Vesselsmith 4 > 5]
With even more mana, I reinforce my loops. The attunement loop presses down on my vessel even tighter, keeping my mana sealed and controlled. The cruncher squeezes my bones, making each step through the fresh snow a terrible ordeal. And yet, I walk, bearing it happily, perpetually pursuing my way forward.
I have more work to get done.
Chapter 159: Waves
I watch Thatch as he paints. The expression on his face is pensive, and he stares at the canvas as if it owed him money. Frowning, he brings up a brush, then holds it in the air, indecisive on where to place it.
“What’s on your mind?” I ask.
“Murder,” he says.
Humming, I nod along, spending a while longer watching him. He just frowns and paints, slowly, deliberately. It takes him a long time, but I just wait. There’s nothing for me to say yet. “I worry,” he eventually manages.
“About?” I ask.
“Losing myself,” he replies with a sigh. His fingers clench around the paintbrush, knuckles turning white as he draws another careful, graceful line. The motion comes smoothly, easily, and as he follows it, some of that frustration withdraws. Ocean waves, sinking back from the shore.
I tilt my head at him. “Why?”
Thatch doesn’t turn to look at me, but he does give a commiserating smile. He takes a deep breath in, then out, then draws another line, another stroke of the brush. “Because it’s all-consuming, Snow,” he says quietly. “Because I can’t deny it anymore.”
“If it’s too much, I can take some of the burden,” I tell him.
Finally, he turns to me, and this time, the frown is deeper. He’s even glaring. “No,” he says resolutely. “Don’t push yourself so much.”
A small smile finds its way onto my face. “You’re very kind, Thatch.”
Instantly, his scowl cracks, and returns to a small frown instead. He shakes his head. “I can’t even stay mad at you,” he mutters.
“Mhm, seems it. You’re a softie,” I tell him.
For a moment, he freezes. I can literally see our interaction replay in his head. Then he huffs, and shakes his head with amusement. “You’re impossible.”
“So I’m told,” I reply. Then, my skin cracks and blood pools. Kuro swiftly cleans it up, and I mend myself under a localized black-box. Thatch, of course, noticed.
But he doesn’t say anything. Just stares for a moment, then sighs. “I’m going to kill people again, tonight.”
“There’s a good chance of that,” I nod. Then, slowly, I tilt my head. “What are you angry at Thatch?”
The question lands like a bolt of lightning. He just stops, for a long moment. Eventually, he resumes drawing in silence, the scrape of bristles on canvas the only sound in the room. I wait, still, patiently, as my mana courses through the maze in front of me. Thatch sighs, and replies without looking at me.
“Powerlessness,” he says quietly. “I hate feeling powerless.”
- - -
I watch Thatch as he kills. The expression on his face is calm, controlled. A slight frown, just a tilt of the lips, that belies the depths of his rage. His fist fly decisively, coated in massive mirages, monstrous claws carving through flesh.
The way they cut through my shields is almost beautiful. They cut long, jagged lines into the items and I sigh gently, knowing that I won’t be able to reuse those. I can sell back knives rather easily, since they usually don’t break in the fighting, and the cloaks often survive, too, but when Thatch fully rends things, it’s harder.
Still, I play my part. Kuro streaks out, cutting through people. Thatch is good to fight with. He attracts attention. Somewhere between a tank and a brawler… and an area controller, I suppose. He hits harder than anyone else in our group, and he’s ruthlessly efficient about it, too, spotting weaknesses and going for them instantly.
For a moment, I think his movements are almost slow, but that’s not it at all. They’re lightning fast. Inevitable, almost. He just waits until people walk into range, then breaks them. I can see the way it wears on him, and how his rage lets it pass by. And, in the background, I help.
When someone gets too close, I sabotage them. When people begin throwing ranged attacks, I stalk through the darkness and kill them. I sink shadowed knives through throats. I let Kuro’s stygian form shape into spikes and chains, dragging them to the ground. From their corpses, I take the gear. Cloaks, made by me. Shields, made by me. Knives by me.
[Level Up! 78 > 79]
Of course, there are other things. A nice bow that I think I’ll hand to Sylves… once her arm is regrown. Some metal scraps I think about melting down. One by one, I pick them up, storing them in my cloak for smaller items, or tossing them onto a pile as Thatch fights.
Violence rages through the streets of Downpour for all of five minutes - and then they fall silent.
The noise is like waves, receding from the shore and back into the ocean. A hush falls over the empty streets, and the only thing that remains is Thatch’s breathing. Slow. In, and then out, and then in again.
I stand by his side, and gently lay a hand on his shoulder. There’s fear radiating off of him, remnants of anger that want to settle in his veins, and I break them all down. “It’s okay, Thatch,” I say quietly. “We’re safe. You can breathe.”
He stares for another moment, and then the menace disappears. The last vestiges of rage flow away, water trickling through sand. He slumps, a little bit. His fists unclench. And I see the monster disappear and leave my friend in its wake. Thatch brings up his hands.
“What’s on your mind?” I ask.
“Painting,” he replies slowly.
I smile, gently, then pat him on the shoulder again. “Okay. Let’s get you home, Thatch.”
Letting him lean on me, we step through the wet streets, listening to the sound of howling wind and the flapping of feathered wings. I frown slightly as I see dark shapes dart through the sky. If Raven is preparing… then I should do the same, shouldn’t I?
Then, one of the birds drops a scroll. It lands elegantly in Thatch’s hand, seemingly unaffected by the wind. He gives me a glance, and when I confirm it’s not trapped and nod, he pulls it open and reads.
- - -
Sitting in our shared room, I hum as I deal with enchantments. Slowly but surely, I fix up the items that got ruined in our fight. Some of them need more work. I sharpen knives, iron out nicks, and stitch cloaks back together. Just enough work for no one to mistake the items as ones that someone would’ve worn beforehand.
Of course, I include back-doors for myself. Runic enchantments that other people wouldn’t be able to use, that require a specific signature to open. It’s an interesting exercise, coming up with ways to layer and hide things. Occasionally, I need to heat and reforge the metal, so I use my mantle to mimic Jess’ flames from the archive.
I forge and work things, making tools from solid mana, using them… and breaking them on the metal. Whenever they break, I simply recreate them, a little bit stronger, testing out more theories, working hard to make the constructs the best they can be. I mimic the way metal and wood are structured after peering into them with [Observation].
[Solidification 23 > 24]
My skills at making solid materials improve every time something breaks. I try to use as much of my mana as I can, not wasting even a drop of regeneration. Whenever my vessel fills up, I multitask, threading it through my mana-maze, working on my healing, anything I can think of.
Mana threads through cores, carving tiny inscriptions into them, elevating their efficiency, enhancing their mana-storage. It works well with my [Solidification], allowing me to create self-repairing constructs, to some degree. Slowly but surely, I work.
Tomorrow, apparently, Raven wants to meet with us.
Tomorrow morning, I’ll deliver them weapons as Yuki.
And tomorrow night, I’ll take the lives of some of their little birds as Kuro.