Chapter 8:

Rock You Like a Hurricane

Sutāriron

April 1st, 2102

9:34

His legs were manspread around the backrest of the chair he’d swung around backwards; Sanguchii tilted his hat with a glint in his eyes. Lounging further into the seat, he drummed his index finger and thumb against the top rim.

“So, come here often, lady?”

The woman in a regal gown; silver armour peeking through the fabric, looked up at him. She slid her sunglasses down her nose, already halfway through a sigh.

“Kenji.”

Her tone was sharp enough to freeze him mid-grin. Very few people knew his real name, and even fewer dared to actually use it. Which made identifying the culprit trivial.

Chika Capella — The Sin of Sloth.

A woman who used to be incredibly intimate with Sanguchii… though not in the exciting way. They were sparring partners, rivals, and if anyone mistook them for lovers, they’d both respond with violence.

She blinked slowly, eyes tracing him up and down.

Somehow. Miraculously. He looked worse than the last time she saw him.

“You’re embarrassing yourself.”

Chika shifted, her posture effortlessly regal yet bored beyond belief. Like a queen who didn’t even want her throne.

Sanguchii’s grin twitched.

“Oi, don’t be like that, Chika. I know you always had a soft spot for me.”

He didn’t drop the flirtatious act entirely, and he didn’t refine it.

Her expression said everything: she wasn’t buying it.

Which finally made him give up.

Two Sins who knew exactly what the other was capable of.

Gluttony and Sloth.

Kenji and Chika.

“So, where’s A at?”

He finally asked, choosing not to waste either of their time.

“I’m guessing you assigned him to the kid?”

Chika’s eyes flickered downward, almost surprised.

“Hmph. I’m pleasantly surprised. You’re as perceptive as I remembered.”

Sanguchii leaned in slightly.

“So that means neither of us came here with any hostility, right?”

Chika rose, tucking her chair in. Her crystal earrings glimmered faintly in the lights.

“Correct. And with that, this… meeting is over.”

Sanguchii scrambled up, nearly tripping, shoving the chair back and following her. He exhaled harshly, rubbing his forehead, already regretting the situation.

Chika stopped. Stared.

A long, dull, draining stare.

A silent ‘Don’t.’

Naturally, the Zodiac’s “Protector” did what he pleased.

She lifted a pale hand, first to brush hair from her face, then swung to slap him. Which Sanguchii dodged at the last second.

“This is exactly the issue, you idiot,”

she growled.

“This is why I didn’t agree with the others. You’re far too brash, Kenji, and frankly you could get-”

She froze. Her other hand raised, not to slap, but to warn.

The lights above shut off, plunging the megastore into darkness.

A loud clatter echoed in the distance.

Chika let out a long, exaggerated yawn.

“Ugh. That sounds like trouble,”

She muttered, brushing her hair back again.

“And since you’re here, Kenji, it’s either about you… or caused by you.”

Sanguchii clicked his tongue.

“Why do you always blame me first? You haven’t changed in 70 years.”

Another thud. Closer.

Chika turned on her heel. Graceful even in total darkness. Her gown whispered along the floor. Even blind, she moved like she could see everything… every crack, shelf, shadow, maybe she could.

Like the darkness was too tired to hide from her.

“Come on. We’re going to the Vessel.”

Sanguchii stumbled behind her. She was elegant; he was crashing into discount racks. He tore his sunglasses off in frustration. It’s not like he ever preferred fashion over practicality anyway.

“Tch, damn it, Chika. You could at least hold my hand or something. I can’t see a thing.”

Something slammed behind them.

The overhead lights flickered, dim, barely visible.

A shadow lunged. Humanoid but too thin, too wrong. Its employee uniform hung off a body with no face.

Chika didn’t even turn.

“Annoying pest.”

She pulled a frost-covered goat horn from who-knows-where and blew into it. Frost rippled outward, freezing the air. Aswell as the faceless clerk’s skull.

She tucked the horn away, hands pressed together.

“Thank you, Amalthea, for your guidance, stability, and protection.”

Sanguchii snorted, not trying to hide his laughter.

“You still use that lame instrument? I really thought you’d have mastered Cryo Symphony without a conduit by now.”

Chika didn’t respond.

Instead, she stole his sunglasses and slid them onto her own nose, even though it was practically pitch black. And kept walking.

Sanguchii rubbed his neck.

“Right. Classic Chika. Faceless Creeper attacks? Unfazed. I tease your dorky horn? Suddenly you’re offended royalty.”

She didn’t react. Which somehow annoyed him more than if she slapped him again, well tried atleast.

The lights flickered back, this time rising to a dim amber. Not bright, but not photographic-studio dark anymore.

And enough to show movement.

Lots of it.

Shadows peeling off shelves.

Tiny ones. Massive ones.

All faceless employees.

Dozens.

Maybe more.

Sanguchii whistled, cracking his knuckles above his head while stretching his entire body out.

“Been a while, hasn’t it, Pella? How ab—”

She stomped on his foot.

“Focus. And don’t call me that.”

She pulled the horn again, blowing a small tune, summoning her weapon:

Icicleaver.

The horn became the handle; a massive crescent of ice formed the blade. Sharp, sweeping, Zangetsu-like. The air around it crackled and shivered in the tools presence.

Every swing froze the oncoming enemies.

Sanguchii grabbed a frying pan off an aisle and smashed a clerk’s head in and another, and another, and another.

They didn’t stay down.

Two minutes later, they regenerated any blunt trauma the pan could have done and slowly limped back up.

“Are you kidding me, Chika? I’m getting bored of swinging this pan.”

Her blade whistled past his head. Skewering six clerks like a kebab. Sanguchii opened a portal, teleporting the blade back to her palm.

“We’re not getting anywhere standing still,”

he said.

“We need to move.”

Chika nodded,

She angled Icicleaver down. Frost hissed across the tiles, spreading like winter across a lake. A massive sheet of ice formed; freezing legs, tripping others, letting her stroll away like a bored noble at a gallery.

Conveniently, the ones not frozen were all on Sanguchii’s side.

Great.

He hurled the frying pan, knocking one down. Replaced it with a fruit bowl. Backhanded another with his bowl. Kicked a third. Put the bowl on a fourth’s head: not that eyes mattered when they didn’t have faces, but this was an attack in the moment, logic didn’t matter it was the attempt that did.

Then he opened a portal and dropped a fridge on the horde.

Chika walked deeper into the dark aisles until she vanished.

“PLEASE DON’T LEAVE ME WITH THESE THINGS! I’M SORRY FOR CALLING YOU PELLA! AND FOR MAKING FUN OF YOUR HORN!”

A split-second later Icicleaver tore down the aisle, slicing a clean chunk off his coat. Which he didn’t even notice.

He quickly understood. He opened a portal in front of the blade’s path, and another high above.

The blade expanded, growing wide enough to fill the aisle,

and then dropped.

A glacier slammed down and crushed around seventy clerks.

Sanguchii exhaled.

“Why couldn’t you have done that earlier?”

He bent over, hands on his knees.

“I’m getting too old for this.”