The Pink Onesie
Chapter fourteen
Hiro
The gold lollipop tasted like honeyed yuzu and white peach. It was a summer garden in my mouth.
Bright.
Clean.
Offensively pleasant for a forest about to fill with corpses.
Damn them.
I rolled the candy across my tongue and hated every second of the expensively delicious experience.
The Silent Ones gave it to me. After they put me to sleep like a child being carried to bed. After they stopped me from getting to my Tiger. After they used their soft little "shhh" sounds.
Then one of them slipped this lollipop into my hand as an apology. I refused to acknowledge the apology. But I kept the lollipop.
Behind me, several feet back in the dark between the trunks, those red figures waited for their entrance into the war.
Hooded.
Soundless.
Patient as funeral mourners.
I felt them there without turning my head. My spine knew exactly where they stood. I stayed mad at them, yet was still glad that they were here. Granted, I would never say that out loud.
Around me, the tree line breathed.
Kaede had his Tengu mask on. Gold leaf at the beak edge flashed when he turned his head a fraction of an inch. His leather gloves were tight to his fingers, and his platinum hair was tied at the nape under the mask's strap.
Daisuke wore his Yamauba. The mouth slit caught the moonlight in a thin silver line. His black mohawk rose stiff behind the mask.
Toma had his Namahage mask pulled over his face. The carved eyes angled downward, so when he tilted his head my way, the ogre stared straight into the dirt at my boots. His purple mohawk poked up between the mask's horns. Tattoos crawled up his throat into the mask's chin guard.
The twins stood beside each other in matching kitsune masks, gleaming black with golden teeth and silver whiskers.
Aki on the left.
Yuki on the right.
Or maybe Yuki on the left and Aki on the right. Tonight, I wouldn’t be able to tell them apart and that made me more anxious than I allowed myself to admit.
Kaoru wore the Kuchisake. Pink hair fell past the mask's edge in long pale streaks. His charm was switched off completely. His face—what I could see of it under the slit-mouth woman—was as flat and patient as a man waiting for a train.
Yoichi had on the gold kitsune. And that damn mask had not been carved recently. It appeared older than him and me.
Older than this island.
Expressionless.
Ancient.
A little wrong in a way I had stopped trying to name as I turned from it and put my gaze on Satoshi with his Gozu mask. Iron ox-head. Satoshi held his rifle the way a priest held a holy book.
And then there was Rin.
Rin stood apart from the rest of us. One full foot of clearance on every side. His Shuten-dōji mask faced the field. His white clothing gleamed in the dark like a signal flag. His braids hung down.
Two braids tonight. Interesting.
One braid always meant Rin would fight at distance.
Vials.
Darts.
Poisoned blowpipes from cover.
What did two braids mean?
Definitely more danger.
Both braids gleamed with an unnatural sheen. Poison coated every strand. Wicked hooked blades capped each tip.
Rin has upgraded.
He must have planned to fight close. Anyone who grabbed a braid in the chaos of close-quarters combat would most likely go down.
Hard.
Fast.
In agony.
And then Rin would kill them while they were on their knees gasping.
Anyone who touched Rin’s bare skin would have the same problem.
Satoshi stood to Rin's left at exactly the correct safe distance. He had measured it with that ex-military exactness. He filed the radius and obeyed it.
Kaoru gave Rin a single nod across the dark. “Eh, don’t die tonight, man. Remember. We’ve got a couples date night coming up in a few days. My girls and your new Deja. I’ve got the best sushi restaurant to take them to with excellent karaoke.”
Rin returned the nod. “I’m excited.”
“Just don’t have Deja teaching my two sweeties anything.”
“I can’t control Deja. Without a doubt, she’ll be a bad influence.”
“Hmmm. Well. . .maybe I’ll like my ladies having me on a leash.”
“There is a joy in giving up control to a gorgeous woman.”
Some of the other Fangs chuckled.
I tested my Hannya mask, making sure it was secure on my face.
Akiro’s men would be searching for Kenji, Reo, and me in the fight, hoping to take us down for the victory.
The lollipop went sweet against the roof of my mouth.
I lifted my eyes to the field.
Just like planned, the Scales broke from their positions of defending the landing space against Akiro’s men, and ran toward us like terrified cowards.
Some stumbled. Others screamed and dropped magazines. One of them threw down his rifle and held his hands up as he sprinted past where Akiro's first wave had gathered earlier in the night. Another tripped over a tree root, rolled, and got back up, screamed, and ran harder.
Across the field, Akiro's men roared with laughter. Hundreds of them. Drunk on the sight of our Scales’ overexaggerated retreat. They fired their guns into the air and screamed out insults. A few beat their chests. Some even grabbed their crotches.
I raised my eyebrows.
Through the Namahage, Toma's voice came out muffled and dry. "I think our men may have over-sold the performance. After this war, some should definitely consider theater."
Through the Tengu mask, Kaede watched the retreat without turning his head. "Those few on the side should not have dropped their magazines.”
Reo shrugged. “I’m sure they plan to go back to them.”
Daisuke exhaled once through his nose. For Daisuke, that was a standing ovation.
The twins tilted their heads at identical angles. Aki spoke first. "Convincing."
Yuki finished. "We would have done better."
Yoichi's gold kitsune turned toward me, and as always with violence he became poetic. "Even the ocean retreats before the wave."
I rolled my eyes. "That's not a haiku."
"But it is a poetic fact." Yoichi's gold kitsune turned back forward. “How about this: Death takes the leaves."
Kaede sighed. "Please don't."
“Spring still reaches through the graves.” Yoichi ignored him. “The flowers bloom on.”
Reo nodded. “That’s quite a lovely haiku, Yoichi. Thank you.”
Yoichi bowed.
I frowned. “Please don’t congratulate him. He’ll keep on yelling out haikus through the whole battle.”
Yoichi inclined his head. “Just for that, I’ll make sure to be close to you when I do, Hiro.”
“That haiku sounded too sad to me.” Satoshi pressed a magazine into his rifle with a clean precise click. “I don’t want flowers to grow after I die. Let the whole place where I fall be barren for centuries.”
“Depressing.” Aki nodded.
“But, true,” Yuki added.
At least I can still tell them apart by their voices. Too bad we won’t be speaking that much in battle.
“Well. . .” Yoichi's gold kitsune turned slowly toward the twins. "There is still time."
The twins' matching kitsune masks turned toward Yoichi in perfect unison.
Aki spoke first. "Time for what?"
Yoichi’s voice held edge. "To change your masks. As I already said. . .it’s disrespectful."
“To who?” Aki held out his hands. “The gods of masks?”
Yoichi growled. “To kitsune.”
“Is he still on this?” Yuki's head tilted.
"Why would we change them?" Aki finished. “And how is it disrespectful? You’re wearing one too.”
Yuki shrugged. "He’s mad that our kitsune masks are better than his."
“Much better.” Aki nodded.
The gold kitsune mask did not move. Yoichi's voice, when it came, was tighter than I had ever heard it. "Your masks are not better than mine. It would be impossible."
"They are."
"Trust me on this.” Yoichi pointed at them. “Those masks of yours do not even look like kitsune."
The twins held Yoichi's gaze through the eye slits of their masks.
Aki spoke first. "They do."
Yuki finished. "Exactly."
A low growl came out of Yoichi.
And to my surprise, they both laughed.
I blinked behind the Hannya. I had never heard Yoichi growl. The man recited haikus while reloading sniper rifles. He flirted with women in champagne lounges with his hands full of weapons. He gambled with his own life as a hobby.
But, the man did not growl. He did not lose his cool. Yoichi always stayed warm, elegant, and faintly amused even when his bullets were already in flight.
But for some odd reason the twins’ masks were undoing him.
Chuckling some more, the twins continued to stare at him through the matching kitsune masks as if daring Yoichi to fight them on this.
And honestly. . .Yoichi looked like he was about to tear those masks off their faces and battle.
Reo cleared his throat. “Everyone’s masks are just fine. What’s over your face is not important. It’s the violence in your hearts that we need tonight. Focus on the war with our enemy and do not battle with each other.”
Kenji added, “Basically, shut the fuck up about the masks.”
“Hmmm. You’ll regret this, you two.” Yoichi's gold kitsune held the look for three full seconds. Then he turned his head forward and faced the field again.
What the fuck?
The twins exchanged glances and looked back at the field too. They did not say another word, but I knew they were holding in more laughter.
Through the Namahage, Toma cracked his neck once on each side. "After we win this thing, I’m sure our Tiger will throw the Claws a victory party. Do you think she’s cooking right now?"
"Of course." Aki nodded behind his kitsune.
"Absolutely," Yuki confirmed.
Kaede tilted his Tengu mask. "Like the Claws party, it will be tasteful with lots of champagne and proper plates."
"Tasteful?" Toma snorted. "After this, I want bottles broken open with sabers and naked women in my lap by the third drink. Our Tiger will already know this. She’s good that way."
Kaoru's Kuchisake mask turned toward the group. His voice came out smooth and dry under the slit-mouth woman. "Brothers, I appreciate the enthusiasm. But you are clearly mistaken."
Toma's ogre eyes angled his way. "About what?"
"It will not be a Claws victory celebration after the war."
Toma groaned. "Oh, here we go."