The Dragon's in the Details

Heart beating a tattoo against her ribcage, Kira’s brain shrieked for her to draw the wand. To dive at the older man. Wrap her fingers around his throat and squeeze until the vertebrae themselves were crying out for air. To dash the teapot on the table against his skull until it opened for her. Drown its content in scalding liquid.

“You have a full schedule ahead, as I’ve heard. As do I. Please, sit. No more will I ask for than a few minutes of your time, and then we, both of us, can return to matters of greater importance.” He poured out another cup for her and slid it forward, setting the pot back down afterward and leaving others unfilled.

Her mother took the obvious hint. “That backpack in your room – do you require it for the interview?” At Kira’s nod she swiftly clacked off, leaving her child to the criminal head sitting patiently still for the girl to join him.

You and your silly name have no idea what kind of man the Don is. Promise me you won’t go home. Promise me you won’t find out.

“Where is my family?” she asked.

“They are nearby, and as of this moment unharmed, under the watchful eye of my Lieutenant and several trusted associates unless I order otherwise.” He brushed away a speck of dust from the shoulder of his white suit, and the candles in the room burst to life, filling the room with orange glow. Light reflected off the Don’s talons and deepened the worn features of his face, gave shadow to the body of his goatee. A black ring encircled the middle finger previously marked by a lighter band of skin. Rubies dotted its circumference. “They have raised you well, your parents, your grandmother, and have produced a child worthy of note – worthy of honor – and deserve opportunity to bask in the fruits of their tireless labor.” Folding hands on the table, he fixed her with a hard glare.

Kira’s fingers brushed against the wand.

“Know that, while I cannot physically lay hands on you, those dear are extended no such protections. Yielding are fathers’ fingers, pliable like rose petals. The skin holding the ribs in place. The methods to preserve a fox’s hide once removed in preparation for leatherwork.”

Swallowing down the bile in her throat, Kira took the offered seat in her own home. “I have your money just upstairs.” Her suddenly dry mouth fought to cough the words out. The Don only shook his head.

“A paltry sum, one already budgeted for.”

An absurd sense of relief broke through the terror. Oh, good. My parents might die. Grandmother might die. Allie might die. I might die, too, but I won’t need to do so worrying over finances.

Rising from his seat, the Don strode to a nook in the tatami room’s corner. An altar had been erected there before Kira was born, upon which portraits of deceased family members sat; gone, but never forgotten.

“Your father also attempted to raise hands against me upon arrival, in protection of his mother. He raised you well. We are the products of our parents’ efforts, and so for that I do not fault him, nor you, nor those whose lessons passed from father to daughter. I, too, was grown on parental legacy.” He reached down for one of the portraits, taking it back to the table. “And I every day I am astounded by how little I was allowed to know of mine.”

The man in this portrait was younger by about thirty years, and had a full head of hair. His facial muscles had lost some of their elasticity. Every tooth was accounted for between the lips split in a smile, but the ropey scar stretching from cheek to cheek was unmistakable.

“I thought he looked familiar,” Kira said. “The picture at your hideout, I mean.”

The Don nodded. “On the day of my birth I was sent to live in the Western world, apart from heritage, duty, and the trappings of power, to be raised by a wonderful set of surrogates. I learned from a third party of my father, never knowing the man. Less I knew of my mother.” He took the teapot and refilled his cup. “And I was only given freedom to return on the day of his passing, so that I would assume the mantle of leadership in his stead. I have maintained the stability he established among wielders in our territory. I would like to believe I am living up to his expectations.”

Pausing to sip, he flicked eyes to Kira’s untouched cup. When she drank as well, he continued. “But to this day, I can only reach blindly for hints at my father’s intent. I fear you do not understand your partner’s own, and that such was his intent.

“Your family has raised an honorable daughter, and therefore I am unsure where to place blame in her recent becoming. Perhaps it lies with one Mr. Ogata. Perhaps he is the negative influence, allowed to flourish when a need of yours developing unexpectedly went unmet. Survival. Companionship. Money.”

The last reason came paired with an undercurrent of “I know.” A hint that a deal was on offer, or would soon be. The question was if the Don was the contract type or believed a handshake was sufficiently binding. Kira continued to sip at her tea, letting the flavors of her grandmother’s work roll over her tongue. She imagined him placing a talon against the elder’s throat as she labored.

“You brought me the artifact and were paid for services rendered, so I will consider that business concluded while I offer you a new opportunity. Amidst this exchange was I robbed of a valuable possession by one Arata Ogata, a man who influenced you to – shall we say – act out of character. These things happen in our line of work. In exchange for meeting my needs, I will meet any of yours – and I do mean any. All you need is deliver me Mr. Ogata and the crystal he has stolen.”

“The memory crystal.”

“And all it contains. That, or I may be influenced into acting out of character as well. We are products of our parents, yes, both of their successes and their failures. I have learned from my father’s penchant towards politics and trenchant remarks to maintain peace. I have found words ephemeral.”

Taking the finger of one hand in his other, he gave the digit a sharp twist, the sound of metal snapping a shock to Kira’s ears. The Don extended his hand. A golden talon rested on the palm – sans the finger it’d once contained – which he held out for the thief to take.

“So much as scratch Mr. Ogata with this and my men will come running.”

She picked it off his hand like it was an angry centipede ready to bite, taking the broken end with two fingers and bringing it close for inspection. No sigil script on the metal’s surface. Allie had once warned her once of intricate poison delivery systems, but the talon was too thin for any significant dosage. The greater risk seemed to be carried by the wielder who had to remember never to close their fist, and the Don wore six of them. Five now.

Some inborn magic like my own, she figured. “If it’s not too much to ask, what exactly is stored on the memory crystal?

“I suspect only our mutual thorn knows.”

And he’s not likely to tell me. Great.

Not that she had much of a choice in the matter. Her love was of insects and not mathematics, but one needn’t have an obsession with natural laws to parse the risk to five lives outweighed the risk to one. Kira rolled the gold prosthesis between her fingers, feigning distraction by the smith’s work to buy herself time to think. The Don demanded an answer now, one of which put her family in immediate jeopardy.

“I’ll help you, but I have no idea where Arata is at the moment. And I have no means to find him other than asking around.”

The Don’s eyes lit up at that. “Take as much time as you need. My men will also be watching the streets should the boy show himself.” He extended his hand, presumably to shake over a deal struck, but drew it back just as swiftly. “Until then, Miss Ishikawa, please, be at peace. You bear no ill will from me.”

Straightening out his suit once risen from the table, he offered Kira a slight bow. She escorted him to the door, opening it kindly for the criminal head as though he hadn’t threatened the lives of her household and beyond. Hadn’t roped her into an agreement to bring in someone she’d considered a friend. As she began to close it, his foot caught the edge and held it fast. He snuck around the door close as he could without touching her, near enough for Kira to smell the warm mint on his breath and catch every micro-movement in those wandering eyes. The necklace bounded off his lapel, diamond practically begging to be kissed.

“Perhaps once this matter is settled there will even be room amongst my family for you, should you desire further work. The Pride can offer much to an honorable woman. A beautiful one,” he added, pausing just until his words registered, “wielding magic of infinite uses.”

One side of Kira’s mouth pulled up. “I’ll move you up my list of suitors. You know how I could use the money.” She chuckled lightly to mollify him, slamming the door shut when his face no longer filled her vision. It held her meager weight for a minute as she waited for the storm in her chest to subside, one hand grasping the golden necklace about her throat.