Meanwhile, at the Apartment

Ryouma rushed out of the apartment, leaving Xiǎomíng and Itoko alone with their dinner. Xiǎomíng watched Itoko pick at her food while she sniffled and held back tears.

“I’m worried too, but they’ll be okay,” he said, trying to reassure her.

Itoko looked up at him with glassy eyes. Her lower lip trembled slightly as she brought a clump of rice to her mouth. She chewed slowly, then forced herself to swallow.

Xiǎomíng sighed, then set down his chopsticks.

“You don’t have to force yourself to eat, okay?” He stood up from the table and started collecting the plates. “We can save it for later. Go play or watch TV or something.”

Itoko quietly nodded and dragged her feet across the room to the sofa. She plopped down and stared at the turned-off TV.

He shook his head and continued cleaning up the leftovers from dinner. Xiǎomíng was trying to put on a strong front for Itoko, but the whole situation left him deeply unsettled. A yakuza was living next door the whole time—there had to be more to it than what was happening right at that moment.

Xiǎomíng tried to remember if he’d ever run into the guy before, but couldn’t recall ever seeing any yakuza types around the neighborhood. He also must have been hiding it to earn Midoriko’s trust, so maybe he just didn’t even look the type to begin with.

He hadn’t known Midoriko long, but he’d gotten a good sense of her personality back in England. It took a long time for his master to earn her trust, but she’d warmed up to Xiǎomíng instantly. As much as it wounded Xiǎomíng’s pride to admit it, she only ever saw him as a kid and not a threat.

That yakuza must be a younger guy, thought Xiǎomíng as he put food into containers. It was the only reason that made sense as to why the closely guarded Suwa Midoriko could trust that guy enough to meet up with him alone.

From the kitchen, Xiǎomíng heard the keypad beep as the door code was punched in outside. Je stepped away from the kitchen, and Itoko hopped off the couch to watch the door expectantly.

The door unlatched and opened. Two men—one with an eyebrow piercing, one wearing a tacky shirt—stepped into the apartment.

“See, I told you there was no need to brute force our way in,” said the one with the eyebrow piercing, pulling the door shut behind him. “I got that shit memorized.”

The guy in the flashy shirt rolled his eyes, then noticed the children. “Hm?”

Xiǎomíng stood frozen in shock—he recognized the man with the eyebrow piercing as someone he’d seen around the apartment complex. He’s yakuza?!

“Kuroiwa, is this kid Nishikawa?” asked the flashy shirt guy.

“Nope!” Akira pushed past Xiǎomíng and peered into the apartment. “Doesn’t look like he’s home. Isn’t that better for us, Mr. Goto?”

“Th-th-the neighbor!” screeched Itoko as she took off running into the apartment.

“Kuroiwa, get the girl!” shouted the man named Goto.

“On it!” He gave chase to Itoko, snapping Xiǎomíng out of his paralysis.

Wait…they’re after her?!

Xiǎomíng quickly moved into position, exhaling as he pressed through the air from his chest to his waist in order to channel his qi. With the speed of a whip snap, Xiǎomíng’s arms cut through the air in a circular motion while his legs moved from a squat to a lunge, sending his qi forward.

His attempt to knock the man off balance failed. No…It more than failed—he was completely unaffected by Xiǎomíng’s attack.

He’s a neutralizer, too?! Xiǎomíng gritted his teeth and turned his focus to the other man. He flicked his hands into a warding position.

“Oh? So you’re gonna put up a fight? Let’s see what ya got!” Goto cracked his neck and smirked. With a flick of his wrist, the kitchen table came flying at Xiǎomíng.

The boy quickly directed his qi to the table, splitting the wood with his foot. Xiǎomíng rolled back on his feet as splinters, driven by inertia, flew into the wall and grazed his face.

Xiǎomíng swiftly pressed his qi toward his opponent, knocking the man backward into the front door. He rotated his arms, sending out qi like whips. The other man could only hold up his arms to block the force of the attack.

When Xiǎomíng shuttled backward, getting ready to run, the pause in his attack created an opening for the sorcerer named Goto to jump to his feet. He sent shoes and bags from the entryway flying toward Xiǎomíng.

Kicking out his foot, Xiǎomíng lowered himself into a defensive crouch as the projectiles flew over his head. As he raised himself to parry with his own attack, the other man pulled the coffee table toward Xiǎomíng, knocking his feet out from under him.

Goto slammed a dining chair down at Xiǎomíng. He rolled to dodge. It exploded into pieces as it just barely missed him.

Xiǎomíng grabbed a fistful of splinters from the remnants of the table and flung them into the man’s calves like needles. Goto’s knees buckled from the pain, and Xiǎomíng hopped up into a low crouch.

He swept his foot toward Goto’s ankles and tripped him from the side. Goto flung a piece of the broken chair at Xiǎomíng, hitting him in the chest.

Xiǎomíng tried to run past Goto, but the man grabbed him by the ankle. Just as Xiǎomíng was about to kick himself free, the entire sofa came flying across the room.

***

Akira heard another loud crash from the other room and sighed. That idiot Goto was only supposed to accompany him to quickly get them out of there once they’d apprehended the girl. If they made too much noise, the neighbors might call the cops.

He turned his attention back to the doorway that the girl escaped through. He’d chased her into one of the bedrooms, where she ran for a doorway leading into another room. She tried to slide it shut behind her, but Akira caught it before she could close it all the way.

They wrestled with the door for a moment before Akira forced it open, and she took off running through yet another door. That was when Akira realized that this doorway led to a completely different house.

“What a cool trick…” he mused, stepping onto the clean tatami mats with his shoes on.

The girl’s footsteps thumping against the wood floors were fading fast. Akira couldn’t afford to lose her in an unfamiliar place and bolted after her.

When she slipped on the floor and fell after losing traction in her soft, fuzzy socks, Akira started catching up to her. The girl yanked her socks off, jumped to her feet, and sprinted away barefoot.

Akira was quickly closing the distance as the girl reached a set of stairs and started climbing up. Though she was almost halfway up the steep, narrow stairs, Akira’s relative height allowed him to reach out and grab hold of her ankle.

“Eek!” she shrieked as he yanked her down.

There was no railing or anything for her to grab onto while he pulled her down the stairs toward him. She flailed wildly as he grabbed hold of her—kicking, punching, smacking him in the face.

“Ouch! Damn!” Akira dropped her after she bit him.

The girl hit the floor with a loud thump, then sprang up and started to crawl away on all fours like an animal.

“Oh no, you don’t!” He grabbed her once more, only this time he tucked her under his arm in the way he’d seen mothers do for unruly children. Her arms were pinned to her sides, and her feet could only kick the air.

Akira carried her kicking and screaming back through the massive house. As much as he wanted to explore Nishikawa’s secret base, they had to get this over with now.

As he approached the room that connected the two dwellings, there was another loud crash. Goto came flying into the hallway through a sliding door, knocking it off the hinges.

“What the hell is going on here?!” Akira shouted as he stomped over.

Goto pulled himself to his feet and stanced up. Akira’s eyes moved from his sorcerer buddy into the room where he saw the kid with the bowl cut limping through the door. Goto looked worse for wear, but the kid even more so.

“Xiǎomíng-nii!” cried the little girl, squirming in Akira’s grasp.

“Itoko! Hang in there!” shouted the boy as he wiped blood from his nose and spat more onto the floor.

He moved through several different positions in quick succession. Swinging his leg up and out into a lunge, he rotated his arms around before pushing them forward.

To Akira, it was like he was fighting the air. But for Goto, each maneuver was like an invisible strike against his body.

So he’s combined his sorcery with martial arts, thought Akira, chuckling. He couldn’t help but admire the unique display of magic he was witnessing.

Most of the sorcerers he met had powers that seemed like nothing more than party tricks—glamour, elemental magic, telekinesis. The most interesting thing he’d encountered up until this point was a yakuza sorcerer who enchanted bullets to never miss their target. This was the first time Akira witnessed someone fully utilizing and manipulating their magic as both offense and defense.

Too bad it had to end.

“Alright, let’s wrap this up, Mr. Goto!”

With a wave of both hands, Goto flung the broken door across the room at the young sorcerer. When he moved to parry it, Akira held up his free hand, cutting off the boy’s power.

The kid realized it too late, unable to dodge as the edge of the door slammed into his chest. He crumpled to the floor, wheezing and gasping for air.

“No! Xiǎomíng-nii! Xiǎomíng-nii!” screamed the girl.

“Will you shut that fuckin’ brat up?” Goto snapped, rubbing the back of his head. “Knock her out or somethin’, will ya?!”

“Unlike you, I don’t hit kids!” Akira retorted.

The two men stepped over the battered and beaten Xiǎomíng as they made their way back to the apartment they’d come from.

“Fuck!” Goto yelped.

“What?! What is it now?!” Akira frowned. The girl’s sobbing and crying was already grating on him—he didn’t need a grown man having a hissy fit too.

“The fuckin’ brat stabbed me with somethin’!” he shouted, stomping on the boy’s hand.

“That’s enough! We need to get the hell outta here, idiot!” Akira snapped.

The room—no, the whole damn apartment was a complete mess. The two of them had torn the place up fighting each other. Furniture was overturned or broken to bits, and the contents of every damn drawer were scattered around the floor. Needles and talismans were everywhere.

Akira grabbed a sheet and bundled up the girl in it as she thrashed and cried. Just something to restrain her for the time being, until they delivered her to Shishiba and his men.

“Hey, kiddo, don’t cry! You’ll see Midoriko soon!” That apparently did the trick, because the girl immediately stopped fighting and froze up.

“M-Midoriko-nee…?” she repeated, her voice muffled by the blanket.

“Mhm! She’s waiting for you!” Akira hoisted the girl over his shoulder as he and Goto made their way to the entryway of the apartment.

At the front door, Goto held out his hand to Akira.

“What the hell is this about?” Akira asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You have to take my hand so I can teleport you.”

“Gross, man! I’m not holding hands with you!” He slapped Goto’s hand away.

“It’s not gonna work unless I’m touching you,” Goto explained, rolling his eyes.

“Then just put your hand on my shoulder, ya fuckin’ weirdo!” Akira snapped.

Goto stared blankly for a moment before placing a hand on Akira’s shoulder.

“Concentrate on not activating your power,” he instructed, closing his eyes.

“I know, I know…”

Akira closed his eyes. Then he, Goto, and the girl vanished.