Box Within a Box

“It’s supposed to be this dorodango looking piece some hole diggers pulled out of the ground up in Hokkaido – real pretty thing, not like the slop balls we used to make… or at least I used to make; you look to, uh, have had more interest in the bugs calling the dirt home –”

“And you had more interest in eating them. Speed it up, Arata. We’ve only a few hours.”

“Good protein if you got the stomach, and far more humane an ending than this macabre peepshow across all four walls. I mean, how do you manage life in this air of pure formaldehyde? You gotta be waking to pink elephants on the daily.”

“Have you stopped to smell yourself recently?”

“Like, I need you on the ground watching my back, not swimming with the koi when the time comes for action. Hey! Don’t kill me!”

“Lucky for you you’re a guest I’d rather not waste time sucking out of my carpet.”

“Anyway, it kept gumming up all their machines throughout construction, and the quake last week exposed it finally. They didn’t know what the thing was. Thinking it was cursed they called some specialists, specialists thought they were pulling mad jokes, some more calls got made, and now it’s being shipped out to a Falcon warehouse deep in their turf. Ipso facto – us here in your room.”

“Just like that?”

“Well, the gang found time to whip up human sashimi out of the dopes involved somewhere in all this first, before the shipping. Or at least that’s how the story went in the brief. Put in perspective how important that junk is. Hey, hey… it’s one job. You’ll be fine! Just stick by my side and we’ll get you home with full pockets before your family knows you’ve left.”

Lights throbbed beyond the boundary of smoke. Whispers of freshly stoned steel cut the air, arcing towards foes. A pained cry preceded a chorus of whooping voices, none of whom Kira recognized. Friend or foe, to whom the tide of battle favored was impossible to tell from within their cover.

She’d known he wasn’t feeding her the whole story even then, only giving her vague hints as to why the reward had that many zeroes strung on. How quickly a night goes awry. A smash and grab becomes an all-out war in an intersection in the time it takes to blink.

Standing around would only get her killed.

Arata beat her into the van first. His athletic form crested the height easily, shards of glass crunching under heavy boots as he stole towards the box, efficiently slipping on a pair of gloves while he moved. “Might need a second hand here,” he called. “This container is stuck deep.”

Sweeping the van floor, Kira weighed her options before shaking her head. “Just put some back into it. I don’t have the footwear for walking on glass like you.”

The red Oni face snapped towards the yellow, head cocked in disbelief.

“I’m watching the exit!”

“Oh, let me give you a show then!” Widening his legs for a firmer stance, Arata gave his rear end a playful wiggle before the accompanying squat. Assessing the box, a quick rap told him it was made of metal, but the sound that reverberated off the van’s walls was one foreign to his ears. Too dull for aluminum, and too low a timbre for iron or steel, and copper was completely out of the question: the latter was a bass, while this body sung baritone.

“Arata…”

“Oh, my so invaluable partner, whatever is the matter?” He turned back to see her clutching a corner chunk of the remaining case, pointing to it with the other hand.

“There’s not enough glass here for the box.”

He rolled his eyes under the mask, parsing the combination of half-statements. “This container is far sturdier than simple glass. They probably broke it open and shoved the artifact in here.” He ran a hand over the container in search of a slot, lid, or door, but found none. “Somehow.”

“Are you sure this is the target?”

“It has to be. It matches every parameter we were provided. The Don’s guys know their stuff, Kira. Screwups they are not.”

Legs had been wrought for the box to stand upright or upside down, with a handle at each end for grasping. He gave it a nod. “Very utilitarian,” he said. Frowning, he ran a finger over sharpened points accenting the legs. “Except you. You’re a structural hazard, and a poking one.”

Muscles bulged under his dark clothes as he prepared to wrench the box free. He gave a preemptive tug first to test the hold, and received a note of distress from the metal. “How’s the weather watching out there?” he called.

“Getting louder. So if you’d please hurry out.”

“Oh, I’m hurrying. And later, you can watch as I take your cut. You’re not getting paid to just – oh, that’s lighter than I’d thought.”

One solid pull was all it took, and now a box-shaped impression in the van’s floor remained, scorched at the edges, two holes punched through the metal by the box’s legs staring back at him like snake eyes. Barely any friction, he noted. Still his muscles strained to lug its weight alone. He had to swing it out the van and onto the road, praying the legs wouldn’t snap off on landing and yank him down. It held. Stellar material.

“There’s a handle at the other end,” he said. “Take it, and we’ll make like babies." At the rattle of sparks, like a firework, he angled his ear towards the battle sparing a moment to listen. “Must be nearing fifty guys out there. There’ll be glory to go around tonight, and a fair number of unclaimed shares for the living.” His voice curled with a smile, one which drew a groan from Kira.

“Let’s just get out of here,” she said, reaching for the box. A sudden breeze tickled the hairs across her hand, and the ones on her neck stiffened. Kira flicked up her eyes, alert, looking to see if Arata had noticed, but he kept on talking.

“Not that I hope too many wind up dead, though it would save me a few debts…”

From the grey swirls behind him extruded the shape of man, a thin film of smoke giving him form, like wrapping paper, before it split down the center to reveal an emptiness that somehow occupied space. The tear continued up his torso, up his arm, up the long, curved length that extended from the vague image of a fist. The metal smeared silver in the unlight.

“ARATA, MOVE!”

Kira’s hand snapped to her necklace lightning-quick, pulling the gold away from her neck on its bungee cord as she leapt forward into the gap Arata had left by dodging –

An abyss opened in her stomach. Burns gnawed on her throat. Pits opened up under the tightening skin where her cheeks had been.

– and grasped where she imagined the assailant’s arm would be, her fingers clamping down on the meat of a human. Power flooded the enemy as his invisibility was broken, his will giving way to her own.

He howled, primal and in agony, katana clattering to the ground from nerveless fingers, stains running down the dark fabric wrapping his face where his eyes should have been, teeth flashing white as they sunk into his arm through cloth and flesh into bone. Shoving him away, Kira retracted her necklace, and relief swam through her when the metal again was cold against her throat, though her chest still pounded. The engraved script scratched her fingertips. A deep, tinny chuckle rose from Arata, from just out of her sight.

“My sigildry puts in good work, eh?” Breathing heavily, Kira could only nod in response. Arata clapped his gloved hands together. “Now, I’ll take this end, and you take –”

A gurgle from behind cut him off. Sluggishly from around the van came a newcomer, one hand against the vehicle to brace itself leaving a crimson streak as it shambled into view. Arata whirled about, hands in fists shaking.

“Do you mind? I am trying to compliment my very scary partner here!”

The newcomer raised an arm in response, and Arata paled. Kira did as well when she saw the jumbled mass of shapes in the bloody hand. Their face and hair were matted with it, and several teeth were missing between swollen, ribbony lips. But where she saw only shapes and a familiar posture used by action stars, heroes, and warning lights across numerous Shinjuku billboards, Arata saw welded barrels aimed directly at Kira, and a finger in the midst of depressing a makeshift trigger.

Kira felt a blow on her chest, and her vision filled with the logo of a notable backpack designer. The force of Arata’s shove sent her sprawling behind the black box, and he dodged behind the van a heartbeat before the improvised weapon showered the space they’d occupied with a cloud of violet pellets. Kira screamed as the projectiles whizzed past, centimeters from her head. Chunks of the road behind her shattered. Bystanding cars struck collapsed inward as if the pellets bore the size and mass of cannonballs. 

One pinged the edge of the box and vanished, slurped up like a stone thrown into a river. The sight gave her a curiosity to muse on in the chaos. She barely heard the sound of bodies colliding or saw the flash of light before the wet, muted thump.

A shadow fell across her, and Arata reclaimed his backpack – careful not to touch her body – rifling through it until he found another smoke bomb. His red mask glistened now, and the teeth were stained with a fine mist of the same color. Upon rising, Kira saw their attacker in a pile against the van. An odd, matted ball beyond their reach held her gaze until the smoke bomb shattered to the east.

“Take the end, Kira. Come on, girl, the night’s almost over.”