Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“An unfair reality is what everyone is equally granted with.”

— 1 —

Shadows clung to her. Sloughing off like blackened glue.

Stepping out from a cramped and dim alleyway. The rising sun glimpsing out between buildings and the horizon chased away any lingering shadows on Taylor, but hers remained. Always there, even when no light existed to cast one. Flicking her head around, the sidewalk was more like a wave of people. Crowds gathered on the sidewalks as the night ended and day began. People from all walks of life. The workers shrugged off the shroud of sleep with a cup of coffee. The groups of teenagers chatting amongst themselves as they relaxed in the freedom of the weekend. Men and women with eyes that told her a simple thing. Avoid them. Her brief observation ended upon landing on a corner store.

Taylor glanced back at the setting sun then to the corner store. Hand fidgeting with a crinkled twenty dollar bill, last of the money she had. Her lips pursed, a slight sigh following. The dull burning throb in her stomach was convincing enough for her to walk to the convenience store. She forgot to have some breakfast.

She crossed the road, not bothering with even a cautious side to side glance. Jaywalking, a normalized danger. In the corner of her vision, she saw the outline of another doing the same. Unless there was a particularly petty enforcer or cop nearby, nobody would care. Taylor gave no mind to the name of the store, pushing on the glass door. It didn't budge. With a twist of her lips, a fidget of minor embarrassment and annoyance, she pulled and it opened. The hum-buzz of ceiling lights and freezers joined the white noise of the city outside as she stepped in. The sole cashier gazed up from a grey brick of a device, and she paused mid-step.

Her mouth opened, closed, then shook her head. Taylor wasn't much in the mood to talk, especially to someone from Winslow. Besides, Sparky, from that mile away look in his eyes — and not in the haunted way — seemed to be as high as the moon right now. There was a flicker of recognition through that green haze but it was swallowed up like the morning bay fog to the PHQ. The idea he even had a job, even one as mundane as cashier work, had an eyebrow raised as she passed by the counter and into the final aisle. By habit more than anything, she pulled her hood up. An attempt to say ‘I'm not interested in talking. ’

Though it was doubtful Sparky could hold a proper conversation. 

The chilly air of the freezer aisle was some comfort, cooling her even through the baggy hoodie. Taylor allowed some indulgence, just standing in front of the open freezer. Eyes tracing the selection of processed and rather unhealthy food they had. None of them were particularly appetizing. Her dad's cooking was miles ahead of all this store could offer. But her stomach clearly had a lower standard, given the rumble. A divided sandwich in between three others was the only thing that somewhat caught her eye and that was enough for now. As she reached and grabbed it, a dark thought wormed its way through her mind, innocent and insidious all at once.

How easy would it be to just steal this?

People must steal all the time from this place. Normal people. People not like her. It would be trivial, even for someone who's only thievery that could be attributed to her name is the taking of a book from a friend's house. A former friend, that is. A simple dropping of the sandwich, letting it bounce into her shadow, and it would be hers. Just like that. Do it where the camera's couldn't pick see — there, a part of her whispered, dragging her gaze to a dark spot between two freezers. Pass by it, drop the item and let it sink into her shadow. Nobody would notice or care.

It would be so easy.

And wrong.

That was the crux. It was wrong. It was easy. It wasn’t what a hero would do. And she wanted to be one, even through the haze that using her… powers came with. Also, it was just a sandwich. Why would she steal one, especially when she had the money to pay for it?

With a mental shake to lodge free that intrusive thought, she moved on. Crossing into the drink aisle and immediately going to grab a water. Just as she finished closing the freezer door, a jingle rang out through the store, followed by an aggressive slamming of the door.

A sound, akin to metal scraping against metal and a racking.

Taylor froze for a moment. Familiarity rose at the sound, memories of action movies arising.

“Hey!” A voice dripping with controlled anger shouted, overtaking any other sound. “Money, now.” Short, clipped words, and held an edge to them.

Taylor lowered herself, glancing around, and shuffled to the end of the side of an aisle. Peeking out, she caught a glimpse of the scene. The man was dressed just as she expected a robber to dress, dark and with a crinkled bandana wrapped around his face. The gun was waved in the air, her breathing stopping briefly, at the cashier. Sparky. The boy could only stare with wide foggy eyes, any reaction running through hazy nerves. He stared far too long, blinking as though to clear the fog he willingly inflicted onto himself away. Finally, he seemed to get it.

“O-oh shit, man!”

“Do you even have ears?! I said, money, now.”

Taylor ducked back behind her rudimentary cover and cursed underneath her breath. Her eyes went down to her hands, clenched with indecision. What should she do? Just let it happen? That sounded smart. It sounded nice. But what if things went wrong? She could do something here, save someone. A deep breath calmed the rapid thoughts. Nails easing up from digging into her skin. The idea of leaving or just letting it happen gave a feeling in her stomach worse than the hunger. Worse than the short-lived relief that was sure to occur once it ended.

Taylor didn't think much of Sparky. There wasn't much to think of with him. He wasn't a bad guy. He wasn't annoying like Greg or pushy like some other guys. He just did nothing, and that was precisely her problem with him. He did nothing, nothing at all even when she was pushed or shoved or slammed. He was just a bystander.

But was that enough to abandon him?

Something dark rose in her, not purely hatred or anger. Just a miasma of everything negative. It crawled up the throat, seeped into the skin, drenched her hands as she clasped them together. The decision finalized in the instant her ears caught the pulling back of the hammer. 

Her overlapping hands cast a shadow on the wall across from her, forming a dog and it howled in her mind.

“Divine dog.”

Her shadow bulged, twisted around itself, the darkness peeling upwards like fabric as a silhouette coalesced into being. The lights to the freezer flickered around her, only for a second. Shadows washed away to reveal rippled pitch black fur, claws sharp enough to slice open flesh with ease, and a piercing yellow glare. A growl ripped itself from its mouth, gaze snapping to the robber. Taylor held up a finger, then splayed open her hand.

“Don't kill. Subdue.” She whispered.

Her wolf huffed, unsatisfied at the lack of a proper hunt but ever willing to whatever its owner asked.

‘Good enough.’

Her hand clenched and gestured forwards. “Get 'em, girl.”

Almost faster than she could blink, the wolf darted at her command, blurring into a mass of black. Sprinting through the aisle to her left and emerging with a leap, muscles tensed. Claws perfectly positioned so as to not disembowel its prey. The man didn't get a moment to react, must have only seen a lunging mass flashing in his peripheral vision before it tackled him down. The robber's body slammed onto the porcelain flooring with a strangled scream, silenced by a paw ramming into his head. The wolf snarled above the man, teeth clamping together near his ear. 

Not that he was capable of listening anymore.

Seconds passed and it was obvious the robber wasn't with them anymore.

Taylor sighed in relief, a twinge of something else in her heart. With a pulse of thought, she dismissed the divine dog and stood up, too quickly. Catching the shadow that made up the wolf melting into the ground and dispersing. Tugging her hood tightly around herself, swallowing, she looked at Sparky. Even through the high, he knew what happened. A slight shake to him, a twitch of his lips, up and down on each corner.

He also happened to see her enter. The only other person there.

‘Was he smart enough to tie her to the wolf? What about the security cameras?’ Her mind ran, her heart raced. Did she just unmask herself to Sparky of all people? Would he tell? Her throat clogged and she had to act, to do something.

She stomped to the counter. Face twisting, and glared at the shocked and high guy. “You,” her words were focused, hard, masked, “tomorrow. Rooftop, lunch. We will talk and you will say nothing to anyone, okay?” She demanded, keeping her voice steady. Sparky's reaction was… exactly what she expected. A confused blink, one after another. His entire being just screaming ‘what the fuck?’ She almost face palmed, at herself and him. What was she doing? But she couldn't back down now. “ Do you understand?” She repeated, a deeper and hopefully more menacing glare coming after her own blink.

But through the high, there was a glint of reality and it seemed to finally shake him free enough for actual words to leave. “U-Uh, yeah, sure thing. You got it, Tay.” He gulped, nodding. “Rooftop? Easy. I go there all the time when I can- I mean it isn't that hard-”

‘Ugh.’ She groaned in her head. He was unbelievable, really. Turning around swiftly, she held her hood closer to her face and made a speedy exit. The bell chimed, the door slamming open, and the tsunami of city noise crashed into the store. She disappeared into it, catching up and merging into a crowd.

‘Just wonderful. Wonderful.’ 

She realized too late she still had the sandwich and water bottle in her pockets. Damn.

She really had rotten luck.

— 1 —

The wooden steps to Taylor's home creaked as she walked up them, instinctively skipping one rotten step her dad really ought to fix one day. She turned to the driveway, seeing his car gone. Opening the door, shutting and locking it behind her. Taking a deep breath, a small smile spread across her face though it was tempered by what happened at the convenience store. Still, it wasn’t all a bad day. There was a reason she went out so early.

Heading to the basement, Taylor flicked the lightswitch and walked down. A presence fell on her shoulders, goosebumps on her skin, and while she didn’t shiver, it was still uncomfortable. But it was something she grew familiar with. Her dad had always joked about the basement being haunted. She thought it was just a prank he pulled on her as a kid. Maybe it was, or at least he thought it was just one.

The supernatural was weird. She couldn't call herself a true believer in it. There always had to be some answer to the strange noises and sightings. Typically, parahumans were the answer nowadays. Some people still believed in magic, some capes even, especially those on PHO and the internet. Just as many were the opposite, thinking all strange happenings could be considered the work of parahumans or some obscure science and for a while, she was just like them. Now, she knew differently.

Taylor wasn't sure if the supernatural truly existed.

Walking across the concrete floor that was actually clean for once after she decided to sweep it, Taylor stopped near the old coal chute. Kneeling down, her hands pulled and wiggled out some loose dusty concrete bricks. A tiny pocket was freed, surrounded by blackened dirt and darkened walls. Inside, laid a book. Pulling out the book, swiping away some of the dust that had piled on it, she looked at the book that held so many answers yet created just as more. Wrapped in yellowed papers with curved lettering all over each one that left her fingers tingling with each touch, only the name of the book was left open to reading. A simple name. Written in ancient Japanese. Unfortunately, the beginning part was scratched out, torn out more like. Violently, leaving no chance at it ever being completely readable.

“–family's guide and history. ”

She wasn't sold on the supernatural, but even parahumans couldn't really explain a book written in Japanese a thousand years out of use and one that held an exact guide on her powers. A book found in her own basement. She wasn't even Japanese! Or… at least she didn't think so. There were a lot of questions, a lot that didn't have answers for or answers hidden inside the book.

Flipping open the book, Taylor was greeted with a sight she had grown used to. Complete gibberish, to her at least. The main obstacle she had yet to solve. The entire book was not only written in Old Japanese, but mixed in was a later evolution of the language called Early Middle Japanese. Not to mention the Chinese characters intermingled with the texts, which was apparently common in those ancient languages. On top of that, it used a weird writing system that made it a headache to properly translate. Many weeks were spent translating parts of the book and she still didn't know if it was the right translation or if it was butchered. It had given her enough of a pain that the thought of just asking PHO for help was a genuine consideration. Someone out there had to know this dead language.

Landing on the most important section however — she stood up, walking to the middle of the basement — It was one of the few pages she could understand, albeit with some struggle. Her eyes traced the text, focusing on one entry in particular. Leaning over, she placed the book on an aged desk and took a deep breath, hands rising. The wall inside her mind was opened, letting free all those gloomy and ill emotions. They engulfed her and she felt strangely whole.

Her hands overlapped, right thumb locking together with left, splayed out on each other like wings. Taylor let the name slip out, a name she had been waiting to say all week.

“Nue.”

Thunder clapped inside her mind. Lightning sparked from her shadow as wings flapped in her ears. On her shoulders, talons clutched and dug in, clothes protecting the skin from their sharpness. Her lips twitched upwards. Taylor raised her head and met the keen gaze of her second ‘shikigami,’ Nue. The giant bird perched on her shoulders tilted it's head down at her. The ivory mask and gritted teeth were slightly intimidating, but not to her. Not after it almost fried her into burnt meat during the ‘exorcism ritual’ she had gone through to get it.

Her eyes swept back to the book and she pointed to it. “Bring it.” Taylor ordered. Immediately, the Thunderbird hopped off her shoulders and began to fly towards the desk to retrieve the object its owner requested. Tried too, that is. It's wings were far too big for a basement. Wires were caught, walls bumped into, and wooden poles ran into. Instantly, she recalled Nue, letting it sink back into the shadows. A sigh mixed with a laugh forced itself out from her throat, hand clasping her face as she shook her head. “Okay, note to self: Nue is too big for use in most buildings and rooms.”

Reaching for the book, Taylor returned to the page that held the most importance to her. Eyes tracing the letters she only now was beginning to understand, barely. “Ten Shadows Technique”, it was called in the book. The implications of the word technique suggested it was something to be learned, but she definitely didn't remember learning how to summon powered animals nor gaining limited control over shadows. Ten shadows, though…

On the page, lined by numbers and large lettering, were ten entries. Strangely, however, there was a torn out section at the bottom, just underneath the tenth entry. Taylor pursed her lips. Maybe not all strange. There were a lot of torn out, scribbled over, or overall ruined pages. Someone had clearly not wanted anyone to read some parts. It was irritating but nothing could be done about it now. She just had to make do with what was left.

Which was around a hundred pages.

‘How motivating. ’

Out of the parts Taylor did manage to translate, they were still a bunch of nonsense to her. Stuff like “Six Eyes”, “Infinity”, and rival “clans” just gave her more trouble so to simplify, she just focused on the bits surrounding the Ten Shadows pages.

One ‘shikigami’ as the book called them always caught her eye. Being the final one in the list and the one with the least written on it. There were a lot of words tossed around about it. Divine, dangerous, untamable, out of control, the pinnacle.

Eight-Handled Sword Divergent Sila Divine General Mahoraga.

“Huh, what a long name.” Taylor mumbled. “Am I supposed to say that out loud each time I summon it?”

A car pulling up broke her out of reading and she slammed the book closed. ‘Dad? He's home early.’ She thought, quickly standing up and placing the book back in its hiding place, returning the slab and bricks back to their rightful place. Turning around, she washed her hands of dust and made her way upstairs to greet her dad.

There was a lot of work to do. A costume to make. Someone to make sure they stayed silent. An ancient mysterious book to translate.

And eight more shikigami to tame.

A lot of work, but it would all be worth it. With this power, she could finally achieve her dream.

Chapter Text

“Too talented to be all about working hard and not talented enough to get by on just talent. ”

— 2 —

Winslow was always a hive of all things negative. The gathering place of people high on teenage confidence and rebellion, of misguided superiority and thinking they were special. For the average student, it likely was a place they sighed at the thought of but nonetheless accepted the reality of going. It was just a school after all. How bad could it be?

Bad.

Really. Fucking. Bad.

Taylor wasn't sure if she was insane, spent too much time inhaling drugs from passing by stoners in the halls, or if it was her power. Her “sorcery.” Maybe all of them. Maybe none of them. What she did know was one thing, an irrefutable fact. Winslow was hell. The curling and groaning miasma that circled the school, dripping despair tar and leaked hate smoke, only fostered her disdain for it. Each dreadful, exhausting, heart-piercing day she had to step inside was like exposing her nerves to open air then letting bugs skitter across the frayed fleshly strings. The dark pollution had only gotten worse, or maybe she just grew more aware, after the locker . It was fitting, in a twisted way.

She needed to be dipped in despair in order to see it more clearly.

How rotten.

The universe decided on a brief respite, moving the clock as it struck twelve. Taylor had already been primed like a spring for the bell and jumped up the moment the sound exploded from the old crackly speakers. Before the trio of betrayal, pride, and envy could lunge on her. Dealing with them, bearing the brunt of those insults and words that tore at the walls around her heart… left scratches on those defenses. Chip after chip. If Emma felt especially cruel, she would dredge up the past and use it as a pickaxe on those walls. Walls lined with nerves, and that pickaxe struck deep .

Ducking into what shadows she could, avoiding gazes and passing whispers of barbs at her appearance or trashed reputation. She had someone to meet. Focus, focus. Her hands twitched, almost curling into a hand symbol of a dog. Taylor took a deep breath, taking in all the negativity. All the bubbling hate, pulsing shame, burning embarrassment, and boiling anger. When she exhaled, those things were all caged. Locked tight with the promise they would be set free when the time came. When they were needed.

The door to the rooftop was unlocked. Taylor paused, hand on the door. She assumed Sparky was already there and if not she would just have to wait. Waiting was easy. What came after was not. Her hand swept through her hair, curls parting and rejoining. She had recited what she would say, in her head of course. Plotted. Planned all night. She was ready. He was just some guy. Probably still high off his mind

Her mind firm, she pushed open the door and stepped onto the rooftop.

The cool gust of an updraft hit her as Taylor looked around, gravel crunching underneath her feet. The lingering acrid smell of cigarette smoke lifted away by the wind, leaving behind curled sticks of cancer on the right side of the door entrance. It wasn’t a surprise then, that she found her target with them. Sparky was sitting against the wall, cross-legged, head leaned back and listlessly staring up at the grey-scaled clouds above. Windswept hair long and surprisingly well combed.

‘Well, he's here… and probably high.’ She thought, sighing. ‘Is there any time where he isn't as high as a kite? ’ Taylor stepped into view, catching Sparky's attention. A delayed head tilt, a flash of recognition and from that came realization. Like he had been cruising on autopilot the whole day, drifting in the clouds and she was the brutal downdraft that pulled him back down to reality. She swallowed, adjusting her footing, looming over him.

“You showed up. Good.” She began, slowly. Shaking that bottle of vitriolic emotions just enough for it to spill into her voice.

Sparky just stared at her, as though he was trying to determine if she was real or some psychedelic hallucination. With a bink, a rub of his eyes, he finally gained some coherence. “Yep. I did.” He nodded and didn't say anything else.

“You kept quiet?” She questioned.

“Zip.” He lazily made a gesture across his lips. “Not like anyone would believe me. Weird and emo Taylor has some force powers. Wow… sorry, I guess.” He scratched the back of his head.

A groan was held back. The weight in her chest was lifted a bit at his words, assuming he told the truth that is. “Nobody? What happened to the cameras where you work?”

“My boss doesn't even check those cameras.” Sparky laughed quietly. “Like, I'm positive those are just for show to stop any assholes from stealing. I had to learn how to do ‘em myself. Easier than you'd think, actually.” He said, then added with a snap. “Oh, right. I deleted the tapes of that day. He won't notice.”

Taylor blinked, incredulity crossing her face. “You did? Why?” She knew she shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth but why would he do that, for her of all people?

“I'm not dumb.” He deadpanned, a genuine look of lucidity shining through. “I'm also not an asshole. Why would I piss off a parahuman I know nothing about? Greg always went on about how masks and identities are really important to capes. Seems like a fast track way to me being shanked while smoking a joint.”

Ah.

“Plus, you saved me. That guy looked like he was one wrong word away from making me end up in the newspaper.” Sparky shrugged. “The least I could do is press a few buttons and keep my mouth shut.”

“Thanks…” Taylor managed out, feeling just a tiny bit surprised. She had come here prepared to threaten Sparky, ensure her identity is safe and make sure he didn’t spill it. “You're not what I expected. You're a lot more lucid.”

“I'm not always high.”

“Uh huh.”

“Look at it from my view,” he defended, “would you really want to come to this place with a clear head where you can stress over shit or have a mind all relaxed, just going through the motions?”

“I think I'd choose the option of not poisoning myself.” Taylor remarked, crossing her arms. Silence crept in afterwards. Neither of them said anything and she had half a mind to just leave. She got what she wanted. His silence. There wasn't anything else to say.

But actually talking to someone, even a guy like Sparky, did feel… she wouldn't say nice but it was close. Ever since the locker and even before that, she knew her emotions played a part in something . Now, it was normal for anger to blind people, for a streak of sadistic joy to twist actions. Negative emotions were long lasting, more powerful, more filling but it was only after the incident did she realize just how much they meant. Translating the book helped as well. Something called ‘Cursed Energy’ was the focal point of her power. It fueled everything she did with it and in turn, her emotions were the spark that ignited the gas into fire. Fitting to the name, it seemed only negative emotions were strong enough to act as a spark plug.

That was the reason she bottled them up so tightly. To let them stew and accumulate, so when she had to fight, she would be ready.

Learning that, however, was easier said than done.

Luckily for her, she had a lot of experience bottling her feelings up.

“So what is it that you do?” Sparky broke the silence, tilting his head. “One moment that guy was pointing a gun at me then he was more knocked out than my dad after a night out.”

“Do you think I'll tell you?” Taylor said, huffing. “We just met.”

“Not true-”

“This is our first time actually talking. Those class projects don't count. You were miles up in the sky for all of them anyways.” Taylor interrupted. Sparky just gave her a look, not disappointed or angry or anything. It was nothing.

“Okay.” He shrugged, going back to staring up at the sky meaninglessly. “If you don't wanna, that's fine. One less thing for me to worry about.”

“Yeah.”

“Yep.”

…

…

“Okay, what is with you?” Taylor blurted out. Blinking. “You're way too mellow, even for a stoner. It's like you don't care about any of this.” He was so lethargic, so unbothered by this. Shouldn't it be a big deal? It was to her.

“I don't.” He answered, lazily glancing at her.

“Why?” Taylor questioned, trying to pick his brain. “How can you just not care about any of this? I mean, I could've come up here and threatened you to stay silent. Are you a corpse, just going through life without a care?”

“If you wanna phrase it like that, sure.” Sparky returned to the sky. It wasn’t that interesting. “I pick and choose my battles, Tay-tay.”

“Don't call me that.” A glare broke through her composure.

“Got it, Hebert.”

“Ugh.” She groaned, feeling her eye twitch slightly. “Pick and choose your battles. So you just ignore whatever you deem not important?”

“Yeep.” Sparky drawled out, like exhaling a cigarette. 

Bitterness rose.

“Like me?” Taylor asked, an edge to her words. “That's not important enough for you to care about? Just the worthless girl getting pushed and shoved and you do nothing because it's not your “battle”?” Years of torment briefly clouding her words, of being alone, of having no one to help her. Isolation piled on helplessness, trampled by someone that she once looked forward to seeing. Now, only dread lingered.

Sparky's head, for a small moment, slumped forward like he was hiding a sigh.

She glared and he stayed silent.

“...Yeah.” He finally said, perfectly blank. “No beating around the bush. That's what I thought for the longest time.”

“Tsk.” Taylor drew in a slow, long breath. “Must be nice. To be so out of it. So non involved. Life must be just a smooth ride for you, huh?” The edge bent into a scalding barb. He had done nothing at all the entire time, because he didn’t see helping someone as important. How could she not see that as for what it was? Willful ignorance. Everyone at Winslow was like that. For just a second, she would've liked to be proven wrong, by anyone.

Sparky's face briefly twisted, eyes narrowing. His hand twitched, halfway to clenching but it fell limp. So did every expression that attempted to crawl up. That same lethargic, blank look returned, like a mask tightening. “Wouldn't call it nice or even good but, I just don't know what I could even do to help you.”

“So you just watched?”

“You're not really that approachable.” He held his hands up at the glare intensifying. “Just being honest. Calling it as I see it, doesn't make it true. Didn't want to bother you. Seemed like you have a lot more problems than I do. I'll just make ‘em worse.”

“Pick your own battles.” She repeated. A bitter aftertaste once the saying left her tongue. It was a saying she was familiar with. She had followed it, to a degree. It held genuine merit but Sparky seemed to just use it as a way to ignore his surroundings. She had used to to focus her energy elsewhere, to more important things.

But… he could be doing that as well.

Shaking her head, Taylor winced at the aftertaste of this entire conversation as it settled in. With an image of a bottle inside her mind, she shoved everything she was feeling into it and tightened the cork to the point of bursting. “Thank you,” the words were forced out, but not in a way they meant they weren't sincere, “for keeping this all a secret and for dealing with those cameras, again. You're- you're not so bad.” He wasn't Greg nor was he any of the people who threw insults at her. That gave him a good five points in her book.

‘Wow, isn't that sad?’

“It was nothing.” Just like that, Sparky eased into the tone change, drifting with the waves. “Really.” He paused. “You're not a villain, right? Just making sure I didn't help an up and coming mass murderer.”

“No.” She almost exclaimed. “I'm… I'm a hero. Well, not yet. Don't even have a costume and- I'm not a villain.”

“For someone who's new, you're a hero in my books.” He beat his fist against his chest. “I'm your first fan. Don't forget me when you become city famous.”

She didn’t laugh.

But her lips did twitch.

It was nice. To actually talk with someone who wasn't an animal, her father, or herself.

— 2 —

Taylor's mom had taught her, in passing, how to sew. Back when times were more simple. They weren't long sessions, just activities, hobbies Taylor was drawn into purely because her mom was doing them. The skill had been passed down from her grandma, a headstrong woman who spoke whatever came to her mind, then to her. A lot of her skills were derivatives of her mom's, when she thought about it.

She really was amazing.

Looking down at her costume, it was the furthest thing from being considered professional or even good looking. It really was just some clothes she bought at a pawn shop, some of her own, and a mask she spent weeks on. The fashion, if it could be called that, was inspired by an old drawing in the grimoire. A figure with a billowing robe, with hand-woven precision and cultural artistry lost to time. An almost regal appearance to them, kneeling down, a clenched hand positioned above and behind the other. It wasn’t a one to one rip of the design. That would be stupid. Anyone would glimpse at her, recognize the Japanese fashion and then she would be banded as a villain of the ABB.

Instead, the general look was taken. A black robe, white free flowing clothes underneath. The robe was somewhat similar in appearance to an ‘haori’ but more akin to a striped trench coat, which was exactly what it once was before she got to work on it. The sewing skills had finally found real use. The clothes underneath were taken and touched up from the ones that had loosened with time, force in recent cases, or simply outgrew her. There was padding she had scavenged from boxes her dad hadn't touched since they moved here. Old boxing gloves and some sort of martial arts padding. Sown into areas where her vitals were.

It wasn’t a lot. The protection was lackluster but she was a brute, at least when she let the power, cursed energy, flow throughout her body. Letting her crush a wooden board with ease and allowing a knife to leave not even a scratch. How she found out about that, she had to take some risks during experimentation. It grated on her a bit, however. There were posts she had read, as well as tidbits caught during cape lectures, that parahumans knew their powers instinctively. How to use them at a base.

Taylor had to teach herself what she could do now. Granted, some of it came instinctively but that typically came after copious amounts of learning. Almost two years of trial and error. Of almost breaking her body after some particularly violent failures. The training had become easier after the locker incident, for what reason she didn't know. Perhaps it was just a burst of motivation or the trauma had some actual use beyond making her feel like shit. Negative emotions had their perks, she supposed.

That was the only thing she would give them.

Turning towards the mask. It was the second longest project of this whole preparation. The first being her training. It was a simple thing, in design. A round smooth face mask, spray painted with matching colors to her costume. Two eye holes where she attached lens from a pair of old glasses and sealed in some silicone. Cracks, some connecting like spiderwebs, layered the mask. Tiny ones. Scars of labor. It was actually one of the less ruined masks. Piles of them she went through before the process had been refined.

Cursed Energy Infusion.

The cracks were leftovers from when she had finally succeeded in imbuing and reinforcing it. It had almost broken like the tens upon tens she had shattered before, but she had learned from the experiments. Little amounts of cursed energy poured into it at a time, over the course of two months and now when she let cursed energy imbue it. It became like metal or close to it. It would serve as adequate protection in case she gets an oversized fist launched at her face.

The cracks added character too. Made it unique, albeit a little intimidating. If Taylor had gone with any of the more damaged masks, her first impression might have been one of a slasher villain.

Placing the mask on top of her folded costume, Taylor tucked it into a worn backpack and shoved it into the basement chute. Closing it and dusting her hands off.

The history-manual book was open to the page on the shikigami next to her and she looked to the next one it recommended to tame. A yellowed drawing of a giant toad with markings around its eyes and a symbol pasted on a white circle on its stomach. It wasn’t the most appealing shikigami, especially so compared to the others like the serpent, bull, and tiger. Still, the instructions were usually written in blood and mistakes and given she was almost cooked alive by Nue – a shiver crawled up her spine at the memory – it was best the guide be followed. There was likely a reason for the order, after all. Maybe Toad would counter the serpent and so on.

Soon. Soon, she would be ready.

This was years in the making.

She would be a hero.

No matter what.

Chapter Text

“Beware the elderly in a profession where people die young. ”

— 3 —

There was an odour to the air, a pollution that stung at the eyes and burnt the nose and clogged her ears. Phantom touches of horror. Stale breath of death. Desperate gasps of suffering. It lingered like fog, steeping the roads and buildings. It felt like Taylor had stepped into a place she shouldn't be.

So, the docks in general then.

The concrete jungle with vines of steel and roots of graffiti was home to many people from all walks of life. The downtrodden and unfortunate. The desperate and short-sighted. The predatory and shrewd. Those last were her targets.

Taylor didn't hesitate as she stepped up on the ledge to the building. She didn’t look down. She only jumped. Gravity's grip on her loosened, a feeling of freedom replacing it, less oppressive and more like a bath. But as with everything, there was a darker half. In the second between buildings, the sheer weightlessness, she looked down. Her stomach fell, breath held. The night city ambience stopped being white noise and thundered in her ears. It wasn’t just standing up against a window in one of the skyscrapers, it was hanging outside of it, the split second of peace and terror before the horror of the fall.

A call to the void.

Gravity tugged her down, the jump gave just enough momentum to catch the ledge of the building she aimed for. Taylor staggered, rather ungracefully, as she landed. It wasn’t a tumble, though. Just an awkward stumble and quick pivoting her upper body backwards, hands stretched to reestablish balance. Stopping for a moment, the distance she jumped was grasped as she turned around. A whole street length. Enough of a fall to break her legs and likely whole body if she didn’t land it. A tingle crept up her spine, a swirl of thrill did circles inside her stomach, a twitch of the lips. Despite all the, literal, negatives…

Her power was so cool.

Focusing, she shifted her foot behind her, arm crossed in front, and kicked off into another reinforced sprint. The world briefly blurred, splashes of glowing city lights crossing her vision. Her coat billowed wildly, long enough to spread out like wings but short enough not to impede movement. Reaching the ledge, she stomped and repeated the jump, crossing another street with ease.

Though…

‘Shit!’ Taylor cursed as her foot landed on a weakened part of concrete and the force exerted was its breaking point. She lunged forward, catching a ledge with a hand and pulled herself forward before she could become another statistic.

She had to work on her landing strategy.

‘To be honest,’ Taylor thought, zigzagging between the pillars of a rusted water tower, ‘I was expecting more activity, especially here. Anything really.’

She had chosen the docks for their less than positive reputation but luck always had to flip to the other side of the coin she picked. If there was one place to patrol on a first night out, it wasn't the best, for the very reason it was a stewing pot of crime. A place her dad advised in not so subtle wording to avoid the deeper parts like the plague. He had made her promise. He didn't do that a lot nowadays.  Yet, where she was. Breaking that promise for another promise.

‘I want you to live, little owl.’

The soft caress that followed the words of the past was a phantom, drifting away in the wind as she jumped a short distance from one building to another. A passing memory and a promise.

This was living. Living was pursuing one's dream.

A dream of hope, of change, of truly living. A dream inspired by both her parents, even as their dreams seemed shattered by the world.

Skidding to a stop, her gloved hands gripped a metal roof railing and hoisted herself up with a grunt. Taylor flew over the roof, a little too high and had to wait for gravity to take hold to land. Boots made contact, gravel crunching loudly and the faint smell of cigarette buds seeped into the mask. A smell that she was reluctantly accustomed to. It was better than the smell of despair however. Anything was, really.

Looking around, she saw nothing. Just the same old run down warehouses, lifeless stores, tenements that held flickering lights and the warm presence of life turned in for the night. She spotted a few night goers below, lone walkers and groups that were obviously drunkenly walking home. That was it. Not a hint of crime or dastardly doings to swoop in and stop like some Alexandria-lite.

‘Or would I be an Eidolon-lite?’ Taylor idly thought, leaning against a rooftop bulkhead. A small twitch of her lips confined an incredulous chuckle. Comparing herself to heroes like the Triumvirate. She wasn't anywhere near their level. ‘Though, I could've gotten a worse power. Maybe I'm like that wizard hero. ’ She wasn't entirely sure if she was a parahuman, especially with the existence of the grimoire and things only she could see. There was little information on how parahumans got their powers. Many didn't seem keen on talking about it overall. 

But whether she was or wasn't one, didn't matter in the grand scheme. She had powers. Things could change. Things would change.

‘Like… bug powers. Taylor, the bug master. ’

From the time since she ‘awakened’ her ‘technique’, she had learned variety was the main attribute. Divine Dogs had an amazing sense of smell, strength that could dent metal, and were as swift as a wolf should be. Excellent scouts and watchdogs. Back during her training, she had used the white one to stand guard and howl if anyone came close as a warning. One was enough to overwhelm a group, she theorized, given that they didn't have guns or good aim which thugs tended to be lacking in. Two, in sync with herself? To use slang…

It would be a jump.

‘Wait, excellent smell.’ Realization dawned and it felt like a slap in the face. So obvious! ‘They can sniff out people.’

Clasping her hands together, she breathed in, unscrewing the cork and letting the wave of bitterness wash over. Fingers spread out, two of each lined up, her hand grasped her other hand. In the moonlight and flickering rooftop lightbulb, a shadow of a wolf was cast.

“Divine Dogs.” She breathed out.

Twin howls erupted from twisting shadows that rolled out underneath Taylor. Black and white, yin and yang. Her wolves sat obediently, yellow eyes looking around from inborn caution then to her expectantly. A warmness filled her chest, calming the bitterness. Kneeling down, she reached out to scratch their heads, cooing about how good dogs they were. Earning affectionate licks and sniffs in return.

“I've always wanted a dog.” She said, petting their heads. “Now, I've got two of the goodest dogs.”

Two happy barks.

“I really gotta give you two names. It's been almost two years.” Taylor sighed, cupping her mask's chin. Hand idly stroking the black and white magnetic fur. Quiet whooshing of tails. “Divine Dogs has a nice ring to it but… ah, I need to focus.” Standing up, she looked around then back to the dogs. “I'm looking for some dastardly fellows, people who are bad. Can you do that for me? Sniff them out?”

A duo of eager barks.

“Good.” She motioned with her hand forward. “Go fetch for your mistress!”

She cringed instantly. She was very grateful nobody was around to hear that.

‘Okay, not saying that again.’

The dogs lifted their snouts in the air, sniffing through the city pollution and locking onto a scent. Yellow eyes sharpened to a keen glint. Letting curse energy flow, Taylor loosened her stance, relaxing her upper body. The two wolves tensed and took off in a swift blur. Their owner was hot on their trail.

Underneath the moonlight, three shadows dashed. Jumping over streets, climbing buildings, kicking off walls.

Taylor wasn't experienced in parkour. It was a thing learnt in passing and for some form of fun. She didn't have much of a life outside training. There was a lot of free time to use up between school days. Wind swept past her as she plummeted down from a building, stomach dropping with her. Stretching out a hand to catch a metal pipe hanging out from a wall, her body lurched enough for a wince to twist her face. ‘ That'll sting in the morning.’

Silently dropping down as best she could, Taylor slowly shuffled to the edge. The twin wolves were perched on the ledge, peering down with a predatory patience. Down below, glass laid shattered across the sidewalk underneath. A street lamp dimly illuminated figures wearing mismatches of clothes, with only one constant color amongst themselves. Red and green.

The ABB.

Stalking in the shadows, Taylor did her best to mimic a ninja. Crouched down, trying to remember a guide on masking footsteps. Shifting her weight on the ball of her foot then slowly placing the rest down. ‘I probably look ridiculous.’ A cynical thought swept through her mind. Shaking that truth loose, she repositioned herself. Arms resting on her knees as she crouched on a ledge one building across from the store currently being broken into.

There was a flash of guilt at not getting here sooner but it was drowned by the flood of worse emotions that served as a spark plug to gasoline. Dark blue blinked around her hands, an invisible color that casted no shadows.

“Sense anyone else?” She whispered to her wolves, the shikigamis flanking her sides. They didn’t bark or make a sound, only glaring downwards. She'll take that as a no.

‘Alright, let's do this.’

Spotting a slope, Taylor commanded the divine dogs with a hand gesture. Darting forward, she followed them. Claws grinding against metal as they skidded down the slope and she slid behind. Kicking off at the same time, they landed on the street with a quiet thump . The twin wolves stalking forth with their owner slowing into a calm stride, on the outside. Glass crunched as the sorceress stood in front of the store, observing the ransacking in progress. The look of the place was given only a cursory glance-over. Japanese in origin, antique indesign, and had rows upon rows of glass displays holding a wide array of weapons.

“Hunt ‘em.”

It still sounded cheesy, a bit villainous but indulgence is the one vice she'll allow herself to have tonight.

‘Don't kill them though.’ Taylor added quickly through a mental command.

Her voice alerted the red and green gang members. A man with a cigarette between his lips eyes widened, cigarette slacking as he opened his mouth to shout. Whatever it could've been was cut short by a black wolf charging and swinging its back paw, baring its fangs in doing so. The man bent, folding like a piece of paper. Any sound that left him was now only a gurgle of pain and shock

A white mass blurred past its twin, claw glinting through the air. The gun whipped out by another gang member suddenly missing an integral part. The barrel sliced cleanly off, flying into the air and hitting another member. Continuing the assault, it lunged, sending the man flying back and straight down as he hit a ceiling accessory.

Taylor rushed in, the recovering ABB member merely a normal human to her speed, while the divine dogs continued their hunt. Her fist coated in blinking blue energy, no formal training behind it, landed on his cheek and just like his friend, he was sent flying. Back hitting a wall with a silent scream.

The two final members were swiftly dealt with. Twin tackles by her wolves put them down and out for the count. The ones still awake, groaning in pain and seeing stars, were given a respite from the throes of their own consequences. “Make them quiet.” Taylor commanded and left the rest to the divine dogs. The pain rattle was cut short by stomps, leaving the night once again peacefully silent. The city outside unaware.

The sorceress sighed, letting her usage of cursed energy ease up. Dispersing the divine dogs with a last pat on their heads. Taking a moment to behold the store, she was suddenly very glad her luck held out here. It was like a jewelry store but for weapons. A fragile glass treasure castle. Causing more damage than the robbers she dropped in to stop would be a humiliating first patrol. There was already enough collateral damage tossed through by cape fights, she didn't want to join the ranks. ‘Though I might not have a choice, eventually…’

Stepping over a thoroughly knocked out ABB member, Taylor stopped to appreciate the glass displays of weapons. There were gun stores in the city and it wasn't that hard to get one. Knife stores as well. But she had never heard of one that sold exclusively medieval weapons, or some straight out of Feudal Japan. She had done not an insignificant amount of research into Japan's history and while her knowledge was a dip in the pond compared to the ocean of history the decapitated country had, the weapons still held meaning to her.

A katana layered in wraps of red cloth with Japanese symbols inked into every inch. A claymore with a seriously, and literally, jagged sheath, like it was made entirely out of thorns. A relatively simple looking Chokutō, not a katana contradictory to popular belief, with a swirling design on the blade that almost seemed hypnotic the longer she stared at it. A rosary of multi-colored beads, with a Japanese symbol she vaguely recalled meaning rejuvenation. A strange dagger that had faces carved into the twisted handle.

At the tail end of the sweep, Taylor landed on the price tag for a more exotic looking weapon and almost staggered. ‘Ten million?! How does this place make any money and who can afford to buy these?’ It wasn’t a surprise then that the ABB attempted to rob this place. Hell, it was a surprise it was still standing. Being out in the less savory part of the city without the protection of the enforcers and some distance from any police station. If these items were that valuable…

‘Did I just save the store of some egotistical blacksmith or some workshop genius?’

In the corner of her eye, while backing away, an inconspicuous cabinet dragged Taylor's attention to it. Blacked-out glass, laying in the very edge of the store, surrounded by other displays. Getting closer, squinting her eyes to get a better look through the tinted glass, a barely visible sword – or was it a dagger? – laid in a cushion. The blade looking like two separated pillars, one smaller than the other. Something about it… drew more than her attention. Her hand stretching out to touch the glass-

“[Can't you read?]"

Her heart nearly exploded in her chest.

Taylor snapped around, a sound ripping out from her mouth, the tingle of adrenaline surging back through her blood. There was nothing, just unconscious thugs and display cases. Her eyes flicked all over the room, trying to locate where the voice came from. Hands twitching, shaking, just waiting to be clasped together and a shadow to be summoned.

There.

Eyes adjusting to the darkness, she spotted the silhouette of someone. Sitting in a chair, legs crossed, cloth flowing out from the sides of the seat, utterly still. Whites of eyes, two irises that seemed to produce their own glow the longer they stared at each other.

Hairs rose on end, the feeling of something caressing her neck. Something sharp.

“Who are you? Are you with those thugs?” Taylor demanded, readying to unleash Divine Dogs or even Nue at a moment's notice. Ready to spring and dash with a pulse of cursed energy.

The silhouette tilted their head, unblinking, the rest of the body unmoving.

“[Quite eager to use your wolves, hm?]" They said, a light voice that held a sword's edge, sheathed. “[Youths these days... always so quick to turn to violence.]”

Blinking, Taylor didn't lower her hands but it was close. She was seriously cursing herself for not learning Japanese and only learning Old Japanese. Some things transferred over but they were different enough that speaking it was wholly different. Swallowing, she forced her voice to be still and firm. “I don't speak Japanese.”

A chuckle came from the figure, low and she had a feeling it was mocking. The shadowed figure hand swept back their hair in a gesture of incredulous amusement. “[Can't even speak your mother's language? How far you've fallen.]” Their hand raised to the side and flicked. A single light popped on, giving just enough illumination to give character to the former silhouette.

An Asian woman, wrinkles around her eyes that gave age to her otherwise youthful face. She wore robes with dazzling interwoven designs that only added to her beauty, flowers that bloomed into more flowers. Greying hair was the only indication of her true age and even that was only a guess. A small curve to her lips, like the ones her mom's friends wore on a bring-your-kid-to-work-day.

“No need to be so tense, girl.” The woman gave a non-committal gesture, a slick accent coating her words. “You are in no trouble. After all, you saved me an annoying hassle by dealing with these troublesome brats.”

Once again, Taylor blinked. “Wait, are you the owner here?” Was she really preparing to attack the owner of the place she just saved?

“You would be correct.” The woman nodded, giving a narrowed glance to the unconscious criminal, then an easy but cool one back to Taylor. “We used to value proper etiquette in my day, now look at these brats. Reckless and idiotic youth. That damned chimera has led them all astray, trying to be something he isn't. Foolish man.”

‘Uh, okay?’ Was this lady just looking for a chance to rant?

“Um, sorry then.” Taylor apologized, feeling a tad bit embarrassed. She bowed her head down. “You just, startled me. I didn't mean to be rude or anything, just panicked and… yeah.”

“Ah, bygones be bygones. You did me a favor. I can tolerate a little youthful attitude.” The owner said, simply shrugging. “First night?” The woman inquired after a moment of silence.

“Yeah.” Taylor nodded, lifting her head and scratching the back of it. “I was patrolling in the neighborhood and saw your store being robbed so I just acted.”

“Hm.” The woman hummed. “Why?”

“Huh?”

“Why did you help?” She questioned further.

“Because it was the right thing to do? I wasn't just gonna sit back and watch, y'know.” Taylor explained, the words spoken without any thought behind them. Just free flowing.

The woman's eyes were piercing, like twin blades of silver. It was like she was staring into her soul, peeling back the mask and everything she was, dissecting her until she was just meat to be poked and prodded at with curiosity. With skepticism. Taylor shuffled, glancing away, breaking the link between their eyes.

With a sigh, the woman leaned back in her chair. Cheek resting on a fist perched on an armrest. “May I know the name of my selfless savior?”

Why did it feel as though she was mocking her?

Oh, a name.

‘Shit.’ Taylor didn't have a cape name. She didn’t have a name. The basics of being a cape. Having a good name.

Heat rose behind her mask. Thankfully, it did its job, hiding any embarrassment. “I don't have one.” Taylor admitted, quietly. “Kinda got ahead of myself and never gave it much thought and-” Stopping herself, she shook her head.

Any attempt to dreg up a quick name was an attempt in futility. The names that did pop into her mind were so bad, they were trashed as soon as they appeared.

However, the woman just nodded. Seemingly agreeing with her negligence. “Names are important, girl. While they don't define who you are, that belongs to titles, they do hold meaning. It is good you didn't rush into choosing a name. I have had enough of brainless monikers that hold nothing. Worse are the pretenders.”

‘She sure loves her long talks.’

“Uh, thanks?” Taylor said.

“No need to thank me for basic advice, girl. This should be common sense, yet I see brats running around naming themselves like Glory Girl-”

‘Oookay.’

A bit sheepishly, Taylor interrupted the woman's tirade before it could escalate. “Sorry, but shouldn't we call the cops?” She pointed at the men on the ground. The woman tutted, glancing down at them with such disdain only reserved for annoying pests than actual people.

“In due time.” The owner said. “I wish to tidy this place up. It would be shameful for them to show up and witness such disarray.”

“Oh, okay.” She didn’t get that at all.

“And you girl, should be getting home. It's late. It would be embarrassing to be caught sneaking out in costume.” The woman reminded, sounding faintly amused.

Taylor froze briefly, gaze snapping to a clock illuminated just enough to see the time. One AM, exactly. “Oh shit.” She cursed out loud. Her dad will kill her, or himself out of worry, if he was still awake. Backing up, she was mid-turn when the woman spoke again. A curiosity edge to her voice now.

“Say, nameless girl.” She began. “If you so wish, stop by some time later. I might have something to give you, as a reward for saving me a few hours of back pain.”

Taylor nodded, mind elsewhere. “Will do, miss.”

Not giving a look back, the sorceress dashed out into the gloomy street and kept her run steady, filling herself with cursed energy to reach the speed of a half-pedaled car. The sound of, strangely, swords sheathing left behind in her sprint.

For a split second, as the world blurred around her, on a rooftop, Taylor thought she saw a demon. In a blink, there was only darkness in the imaginary demon's place, tiny ashes of white flaking away in the air. 

She paid it no mind. The lack of sleep must be getting to her.

She just had to get home before her dad found out.

‘Wasn't so bad of a first night out. Looks like my luck is finally turning around.’

Chapter Text

“The greatest counter for raw power, is skill. ”

— 4 —

‘How hard could it be to tame a frog?’ was her first thought going into this.

Quickly followed by ‘How is a frog this hard to kill?!’

A green glob bounced off a wall, the rusted steel where it had been moments ago got a new shine in the form of razor sharp claws slicing away the rust. Growling, the black wolf kicked off the slashed steel and lunged for the frog. Despite the predatory speed, the frog was a fast prey. Attaching an elongated tongue to a ceiling beam, the tang of rotting metal not affecting it one bit, and used the momentum to propel itself onto another wall. One bulging eye flicked to the side, a rectangular pupil as vacant as a bottomless abyss, a glint of silver reflecting off of the abyss. Muscles tensed in those green hind legs, in less than a second, and sprang like a pinball machine. A metal pipe slammed into the wall a moment later, energies breaking into flakes as it shattered upon impact.

As payback, the toad's tongue shot out, hooking around another ceiling beam and with a downwards pull, tore it from the already crumbling foundations. Right on top of its opponent.

“Shit-!”

Taylor's curse was cut short by dodging the falling metal beam. Dust kicking, shrouding half of the abandoned warehouse from sight. The toad perched on a walkway, blinking sideways, croaking. One eye checked its left, another it's right, moving out of sync and giving it an unparalleled sense of awareness. A blank one-sided gaze met the glare of a stalking wolf.

Both were still.

The wolf was silent, pitch-black fur melding into the dark backdrop of the warehouse, leaving only yellow pools visible. Teeth bared, a growl hanging on the tip of its tongue.

The frog stayed still as a leaf, powerful hind legs coiled like a spring, waiting for the wolf to make a move.

“Nue.” A steady voice intoned out from the residing dust cloud below.

A shrill, piercing cry filled the warehouse. Lightning crackled. A smell of ozone seeping into the air.

All combatants exploded into action.

The toad leaped into the air, tongue flicking out to a beam.

The black wolf bolted into a blur, hind legs kicking off the ground and forelegs outstretched, claws ready to rend the overgrown amphibian.

The thunderbird wings extended, gusts of wind billowing more dust around. Electricity arcing between each feather.

A knife cut through the dust cloud, speeding out with blue energy trailing behind it. Fissures of cursed power spreading across the blade.

Before the toad's tongue could wrap around the beam, a white blur shot past it from directly below. A flash of keen claws leaving torn air in their wake, as well as a bisected slimy appendage.

Left without an escape, the prey was finally caught.

The knife slammed into its symbol, purple life splattering out. The sharpness dulled in favor of sheer force, turning a blade into a sledgehammer that skewered through might alone.

A sledgehammer that became a lightning rod.

Lightning bolts arced out, drawn in by the metal of the knife blade and flowed nicely through it. Erratic sparks of purple electricity danced their scalding party around the toad, boiling blood and flash searing moist skin. The rabid shikigami lost all momentum, stolen and redirected by the Thunderbird's lightning. It tumbled down from the dusty sky of the warehouse. It didn't have the privilege of hitting the ground it had so often used as a springboard, a jaw of hungry teeth clamped down on it as the black wolf finished its leap, claws hooking deeply into its flesh.

For extra measure, its twin joined in as soon as the two hit the ground. A duo of eager predators at last getting their prey. Flesh split, rended, limbs torn off. Purple blood darkening from the amount spilled. Until the toad sloughed away into oily shadows. The wolves growled in annoyance, spitting out the shadow-tar.

“Now…” Taylor panted, wiping a thin trail of blood from her mouth, standing in front of the fallen ceiling beam. “You know how I felt, you oversized frog.” She readjusted her mask, placing it back in place. Nue and Divine Dogs became liquid darkness and returned to her shadow. Instantly, the weight of the taming ritual was lifted off her shoulders. A tingle in the brain, the croak of a toad, told her the shikigami was tamed and now part of her growing shadow.

“Ugh, that was way harder than it had any right to be.” Taylor groaned, stretching her shoulders. Summer camp had taught her how agile frogs, and amphibians in general, could be. Memories of trying to catch them and getting soaked in the process. Behind the mask, both physical and mental, her lips twitched upwards before dying as worse memories surfaced as a result of her going to the camp. Betrayal was the most rotten of tastes.

The second was trash bag water but that ruined her metaphor.

“This would be the second warehouse I've destroyed.” She remarked to herself. Rays of light shining through claw marks, beams collapsed and things in further disarray than it had been when she came here. Nobody would notice, though. Half of this district was abandoned warehouses used only for graffiti, gang hideouts, or in this case, a supernatural taming ritual. At least it wasn’t the ship graveyard.

At times, she wished her power was more on the simpler side. Streamlined. While it was handy to have a physical manual, it didn't compare to the instinctively one parahumans got, or so she heard. The taming of each shikigami so far was a pain and an exercise in creativity, in more ways than one but the benefits outweighed any soreness tenfold. Each one added a whole new section to her arsenal, possibilities stretching like a shadow casted by an ever-growing figure.

Divine Dogs served as her close-ranged fighters. Nue as the ranged striker, and Toad – or Gama – let her set up opportunities by pinning down her opponents in place or tossing them around.

Checking a watch she had… borrowed from her dad – he didn't use it anymore anyways – it was a little after one PM. She should still be in school, but ditching it has become a growing habit. The more noble excuse was that spending her time as a hero and training as one held more importance than sitting in class. The quiet excuse? Taylor just hated school. Winslow had ruined all and any joy it could've brought.

At least being a superhero won't involve any teenage drama.

“Still have time.” Taylor decided, rolling the shoulders, hopping on her heels to loosen the soreness. Cursed energy was a good painkiller. Not at all like those cheap drug store ones. “I can do another. Won't be hard.” It'll give her experience with commanding Gama as well, also the recommended ‘order’ had recommended this one come after the toad.

Her reserves were still high. Tiredness had yet to set in for today. All things were operational.

Raising her hand, parallel to the face, Taylor slowed her speech, letting the mystical words slip out. Fingers curled and aligned, forming into the shape of a snake.

“Sacred treasure, swing and ring…” Taylor chanted, feeling the world become grey-scaled, darkness twisting. “Jewel of Life, shield of dharma, first-strike vanguard, Great Serpent. ”

A split iris slithered from the darkness, forked tongue flicked out to taste the air and found it lacking. The shadow hissed, a serpentine body emerging, true size hidden underneath the still abyss it was born from.

 “I've known enough snakes already.” Her eyes were blank, shadow puppets playing amongst her hands. “Let’s get this over with.”

— 4 —

Someone was at her house.

Before, the thought would've sent a paranoid shiver down Taylor's spine. The idea of Emma, or god-forbid her and Hess, invading the one place she felt safe in. Coming in and hiding venom behind nostalgic smiles, lies convincing her father everything was alright. Only being given two options: Freak out and reveal the truth, plunging her dad into an ocean of worry and anger, tearing apart friendships older than she was. Or, take it with a pained smile, restraining flinches at carefully veiled insults.

Her dad wasn't dumb, but he still was under the impression the two were still friends. If she told him, lost her composure, everything would snowball.

Until it was one big avalanche that couldn't be ignored.

But as luck would have it, she got neither. Only a boy idly poking a rotten wooden step with his shoe.

“Sparky?” Taylor said, narrowing her eyes. “What the hell are you doing here?”

The boy continued to kick the wooden step, hands stuffed in jeans that really had seen better days. “You gotta get this fixed. I almost died walking up this thing. Want a ghost haunting you?” He didn't even look at her.

“Ghosts don't exist.” Taylor retorted, hand gripping the strap to her backpack. “And if you were one, you'd be pretty lackluster. No thoughts in that brain.”

“Head empty.” He nodded, sagely. “I try to limit my thoughts to two a day.”

“Sorry I made you use them up.” She was laying on the sarcasm more than usual, for a reason she couldn't quite explain.

“And there goes my last one. I'm on unpaid overtime now. The worst sin in this world.” He sighed, turning around to face her. That same flat look. She couldn't even begin to guess what was swimming in those eyes, what emotions lurked or what judgements he had of her. If he had anything at all in that brain. “Anyways, I'm here at the request of tyrannical forces. Double overtime.”

“Who?” ‘Emma?’ A paranoid thought crept in.

“Mr. I-Peaked-In-High-School.” Sparky slipped off his backpack, unzipping it and dug out a folder of schoolwork. “Assignment. Beefy one. Would not recommend the method of ignoring the deadline.”

“He sent you all the way to my house just to pass me an assignment? I would've just picked it up tomorrow.” Taylor said. A bit of pain coming back without cursed energy to dull it. Just something to push through.

“He said you would appreciate a friend bringing you it.” Sparky shrugged.

“Friend?”

“I know right? I thought Hebert didn't have any friends. I must've been mistaken for Greg.”

“Ew.” It was an instinctive reaction. “Just because he sometimes follows me around like a starving puppy, doesn't make us friends. He's annoying.”

“Preaching to the choir, here.” Sparky agreed. The folder was waggled, once then twice. “I mean I don't have anything against the dude but I think he doesn't have the capacity to take a hint. Subtlety is lost on him… Are you gonna take this or not?”

“Oh.” She quickly snatched it from his hands, tucking it underneath her arm. She shuffled, raising an eyebrow. “You're lucky my dad isn't here. I don’t know what he'd do if a boy shows up looking for me.”

“If he beats me up, can I sue to get money?”

“No, I'll testify you were harassing me.”

“Ouch, but I respect the hustle. Fair warning though, my family ain't exactly in the same class as yours so the payout will be terrible.” Sparky joked, or was he telling the truth? It was hard to tell with him.

“Why? Because you spend it all on weed?” Taylor bantered. There was an expectation for a witty retort, but when she got none, realization of how insensitive her words were shot through. Heat rose, no mask to hide the embarrassed blush. An attempt was made though. Shaking her head, letting the diligently maintained curls obscure her face. ‘Why did I say that?! Didn't he say his dad comes home drunk?’ She wasn't stupid, she could read between the lines but her mouth just had to run.

A chuckle broke her out of the instant self-criticism.

Looking up, a real smile replaced the thin line of his lips. Sparky looked genuinely alive for once, not just a corpse running on programmed reactions. A sheen to the eyes, amusement. It was the first time Taylor heard him laugh, at least when she was around him in class. The life only lasted a few seconds before being engulfed by a fog of apathy. An empty curve to his lips. Dry wit returning. “No, it’s because this city fucking sucks. Let this be a lesson to you, stay in school.”

Composing herself, the flow of the conversation remained unfazed by that little hiccup. “Wait, what's the lesson?”

“Hell If I know.”

“So you're just yapping?”

“That's some PHO talk. Our culture is not your costume, bookworm.”

“That just makes you sound like a loser.” Taylor deadpanned.

“Shit, guess it does. You win.” Sparky surrendered, zipping up his backpack. “Out of curiosity, where do you wander off? You've been ditching class more than I have.”

“Things.” Taylor trailed off. She still didn't trust him with her secret identity. Given nothing has happened so far, he kept his word but that was the limit. He didn't need to know anymore than he already did. “Important things.”

“Ah, I understand. Cape shit to our normie shit.” He said, like it was an everyday occasion he got to speak to a parahuman.

“Hey, don't just say that out loud.” Taylor chided. They were on the porch, surrounded by neighbors. Anyone could be listening, through an open window or sitting out or walking by. “Remember, keep those lips shut.”

“Roger, roger.” He gave a mock salute. Indignation rose in her throat before she gave one look to his face, and threw her arms up. “Still, you shouldn't skip school so much.”

“Who are you, my dad? Gonna lecture me? You?” Taylor crossed her arms, an unimpressed look in her eyes.

“No, I just don't want to be stuck doing a project solo.”

“Ah, okay.”

“Well, if that's all. I should be going.” Sparky said, walking down the staircase, avoiding the rotten step. He gave a backhanded wave as he turned on the sidewalks. “Have a good one, and don't die doing capeshit.”

“Hey.” He stopped in place for a moment, looking back. “You can just call me Taylor.”

“Alright, Taylor.” He nodded and resumed his walk.

She watched him go for a bit, fading away into a speck before sighing and making her way inside. A glimpse of a smile reflected by a window.

The house was quiet, calming. Woes of the day easing, little tragedies that make the soul ready for the world, the weight of responsibility. A rumble echoed throughout the silence, the cost of a day without lunch showing itself. A plot of action was made in a second. Deposit her costume, shower, then make some late lunch.

Heading upstairs, Taylor threw her bag inside her room, deciding to hide it later. Her dad, even with his irregular schedule, shouldn't be back anytime soon. Gathering some clothes, she headed to the shower and let herself have some peace underneath the warm water. Soreness was soothed, scratches stung, twin two inch deep holes in her arm trickled out blood, watery red pooling underneath her. Closing her eyes, the pain was fought back against with a shuddering breath. Cursed energy couldn't heal, that was a lesson she learned some time ago. Fitting to its nature. Negativity could never heal, but it was one hell of a motivator.

But what if there was a way? The book had said cursed energy could do a myriad of things. There was a treasure trove hidden away in that book and the potential of her technique – now that she has four shikigami, it was even more! The next one on her list was an elephant that apparently conjured water. Then… rabbits. There wasn't much consistency to the summons besides the fact they were all animals.

Except for one.

Turning the shower knob, Taylor stepped out. Tugging a towel off a rack, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Overall, she looked the same as she always had. Plain, boring, a mouth too wide, eyes too large. Curly black hair, the only part of herself she liked. The only additions worthy to note were the lines of muscles peaking out and the bags underneath her eyes that seemed to grow permanent over time. She looked terrible. ‘What else is new?’ a scoffed inside her head.

Throwing on new clothes, she picked up her backpack from her room and headed downstairs. Opening the fridge, she grabbed whatever was vaguely tasty looking.

A quickly assembled ham sandwich in hand, another in a plastic bag gripped between her fingers, Taylor made way to the basement. It was becoming a place she spent more time in than her actual room. All that was missing was sleeping in it. She wasn't that far gone though. There was still some dignity left. Once situated, she kicked back and, as always, cracked open the centuries old book for unraveling the potential it contained.

Trailing the list of shikigami, there were only six left.

Max Elephant.

Rabbit Escape.

Round Deer.

Piercing Ox.

Tiger Funeral.

And last but not least…

Eight-Handled Sword Divergent Sila Divine General Mahoraga.

Just the name itself held power. Taylor had done some research into the names of her shikigami and while a lot of the results didn't give much, the tenth shikigami did.

A race of primordial deities, exalted ones. Devoting themselves to the protection of the Buddhas and their sacred teachings. Esteemed protectors of the Heavens, regarded with such worship they held divinity on par with the highest beings. They shielded the Dharma, the natural harmony of the universe itself. Equilibrium, serenity. Anything that dared disturb the natural order was cut down by these protectors, any danger forced into balance within themselves. Truly, they were heavenly.

Taylor took a bite from her sandwich.

If that all holds true…

“How the hell am I supposed to tame that?”

Deciding to leave that problem to her future self, she flipped the page. Self taught lessons allowed her to read some, but not all, of the things written down.

“Hm.”

‘These ‘Binding Vows’ seem interesting. ’

“Oh, I should visit that store lady.” Taylor thought out loud, taking another bit, leaning back on her hand.

A noise snapped her head to the basement window, a peek into the front garden. For a moment, it sounded like someone had flattened flowers and dirt. But nothing was there.

Nothing but wisps of faint white ashes.

Chapter Text

“He who swings his blade for hate and blood, shall never cease to bleed from the mouth.”

— 5 —

Twilight shrouded the city, vesper hues painting the sky a brilliant blend of deep velvet and dark blue. In between light shrinking and darkness engulfing, there was a sweet spot where the streets were a ghost town. Living in a city crawling with crime in each alley, the average Brocktonite learned to embrace or avoid these openings. Whether out of a fear of getting caught alone or the freedom of being alone.

It wasn’t feasible to put on the mask during daylight hours. An irregular schedule, coupled with her not having any friends, made it difficult to come up with any long-term excuses for extended periods away from home. The night opened up a chance. Her dad thought she was asleep, most of the time. Allowing an opportunity to sneak out, meld into the shadows and take off. The darkness lent itself well to her, part of the reason she devoted some time learning to move without sound.

The effectiveness of which remained in limbo.

The docks held a different air to their desolate streets. A shift between states. The metallic tang of despair and abhorrent static of anxiety were all still present but above the sickening atmosphere was something new. A warmness, goosebumps prickling her skin in response to heat that didn't come from the sun or sea breezes. An unreal heat. A premonition of an event that left itself up to interpretation. Sweat trickling down her forehead, leaving an itch unable to be scratched.

It wasn’t a nice kind of warm, like a perfectly tuned shower.

It was more like standing amongst a forest, with a wildfire in the distance.

Forcing herself through the building unease, Taylor decided to walk instead of dashing and jumping through the ghost district. A sort of arrogant confidence, deciding to walk plain out in the open, putting herself on the same level as experienced heroes and villains. Yes, wards went on patrols but they had the advantage of two things: Backup and the fact that if anyone messes with them, all of this branch of the PRT will fall on their heads with guillotine precision. A balance between posturing and subtle threats. Nobody wants the might of an PRT department coming down like a gavel to a court hearing.

Taylor had nobody. Not a soul who will come to her aid. Nobody knew she was out as a cape. No backup. If she got in trouble, it was entirely up to her to solve it and get out intact. Worse of all? She couldn't even call for help. A phone being the one thing she never got, for budgetary and a personal reason that never held up under scrutiny. If luck finally dealt her the final card, that was it. No shuffling or tricks can save her from the cold touch of the end itself.

That was comforting, in a twisted way.

That all Taylor had was herself. It was one of the few guarantees in life and one she had grown used to.

‘It's for the best.’ Taylor thought, her footsteps the only sound to keep her company. ‘Dragging others in is just stupid.’ It wasn’t like she was going solo either. Her shadow was always with her, and within that inky blackness were four shikigami, ready to be called upon at a moment's notice.

It didn't take long to reach her destination. The same store that witnessed her first patrol.

As Taylor approached, she noted the front window was fixed and finally took in the name. Muramasa & Masamune. A delve into Japanese history told her the names belonged to two famous swordsmiths in the Muromachi era and Kamakura period respectively. The former, a man drifting on the edge of madness and purpose, a delirium and monomania that suffused into every blade the legendary figure created. So great was his influence, that even blades forged by his students carried an edge that matched their forebearer. A man driven by a single purpose, willing to do anything to achieve it, and the blades inherited such a desire. Tales of rivers being dyed red by merely dipping the sword into the river, all fish being sliced in half. A ravenous thirst for blood. An urge that could turn on its wielder if not bathed in enough death.

Masamune, on the other hand, was the antithesis to Muramasa's all-consuming drive. Considered one of the three heavenly swordsmiths, while his counterpart was defamed, cast down as a hell-creature in the flesh of a man.

There was a lesson there.

What exactly? Taylor couldn't say. She never gave much thought to deep spirituality teachings.

Glancing around, there wasn't a soul on the street. A shadow descended on the block, street lights yet to flicker on and chase away the darkness. A dark curtain fell upon the ocean horizon, painting the sky grey. Taylor looked away from the bay, putting it out of her mind. She wasn't one to participate in superstition but storm clouds on the horizon always held an air of forbearance, for a good reason.

Placing a hand on the glass door, she entered the proper way this time. The first thing she noticed now, was the smell. Earthly, with a hint of petrichor and steel. Wisps of trailing smoke lingered all around the store, burned from sticks placed near various displays. Incense. When was the last time she smelled that? Her mother used to burn some, during special occasions, the meaning of which flew over her head. As did her grandma. Her dad couldn't bring himself to do the same. 

The second thing – her spine straightening, instincts sharpening, all without her control – was the heavy presence, engulfing everything in the store. Heavy, that was the only thing she could describe it as. It was as if it took precedence over everything else, not by deeds done or karmic renown, but by force. A fire wall surrounding the area, saying ‘this is my territory. Everything within it is mine. If you cross it, you will be too.’ Taylor was an insect standing next to that bonfire, insignificant.

Something surged past the staggering fear response. Pride, desperation, idealism, there wasn't enough time to internalize the emotions surging through her. She had felt tiny before, insignificant. It was a feeling that followed her for years, being treated with the same respect one would give an annoying bug and ignored as one deserved to be. Never again.

Swallowing the rock clogging her throat, feeling it plummet into her stomach, Taylor used it as fuel as best as she could.

It was hard to tell where the presence came from exactly. A shimmering haze twisting the store's interior but considering the place it was strongest? That was likely the origin point.

Suddenly the pressure retracted, lifting the weight off her shoulders, and the haze dispersed as air returned to normal. Taylor breathed a sigh of relief, only for it to hitch as two eyes turned to pierce her.

They were cold. Glacial. Unfitting for the intangible heat that shimmered around the man even in the pressure's absence. The face they belonged too was an asian man. Clothes clung tightly to his burly form, muscles clearly visible but not grotesquely so like bodybuilders. He looked like a man who could stand admist a hurricane and not be moved an inch. Those eyes looked down on her, scrutinizing everything about her, holding a question she did not know the answer too or what even he was asking.

A scoff left the man, turning back to the store owner. The lady looked up from her chair at the counter, unmoving, unflinching. “[Her?]” The man rumbled, irritated like he just witnessed a bad joke.

The store owner shrugged, a smile creeping up at the man's dissatisfaction. “[Ironic, don't you think?]"

The man's face twitched. "[Does she understand what she inherited.]"

“[She doesn't even speak in her bloodline's mother tongue].”

The man barked out a laugh, but it sounded more like a growl. Scratchy, deep. Each sound passing through a scaly throat and coming out jagged.

The lady laughed. A sardonic chuckle shared.

Taylor frowned. Why did it feel as though they were talking about her? Not knowing what they could potentially be gossiping about left a bad taste in her mouth. No different than the one she always had in school. She planted her feet down, not giving into the urge to shuffle.

Clearing her throat, “Excuse me?” Taylor cut in, voice steady.

The store lady glanced at her, a customer approved smile gracing her lips, pretending to have just only now noticed her. “Ah, it is good to see you, nameless girl. I'll be with you in a moment.” Returning focus to the man, the owner slipped back into her native tongue, free to discuss business. "[Your brats caused some ruckus here. Don't tell me you've gone lazy on the pact?]"

The man scoffed, tilting his head. “[I don't control those fools actions. They may wear my colors, but they are not mine]” The glare was clear through his words alone.

The swordsmith lady remained serene, a placid look almost mocking. "[Has your fire burned to embers? I remember a time where you lived up to your name, but I suppose time wears us all down.]" Her finger glided over the glass counter, as if caressing the blade laying below. "[Remember the pact. Remember why I tolerate your repulsive presence, Chimera.]"

Wisps of orange blinked like fireflies around the man's eyes, small and quick enough it could've been mistaken as a trick of refractive light. “[Know your place, Ronin.]” The man's words were cold and jagged as ice, tempered by fire. "[To think you have any right to threaten me, the coward who ran from the Tidehunter? You abandoned your home, reducing yourself to a wandering, aimless Shura.]"

The lady, for less than a second, froze, finger halting in its path.

Taylor shivered, a sword caressing her spine. She snapped her head around. Nothing was there.

The lady smiled, and it was all edges. Daggers drenched in blood. The smile split her face, a sword cutting apart her cheeks. She tutted, a sound like a dying gasp of a man with a slit throat. A finger tapped, the war drums of a bloodlusted army.

It lasted all but a second.

In the moment it took her to rise from her chair, there was a sword in the shape of a woman, and in the next, a human returned.

“I think, all business is concluded.” She switched to English, her accent coating the language in steel. “Thank you, sir. I am glad to partner with such an esteemed man as yourself. We will do great things together.” A hand was extended.

The man took it.

The handshake was weighty, for appearance only. There was no tightening of grips. Only a simple agreement between two parties.

“We'll see.” The man switched to English, accent lingering but more refined that suggested more familiarity with the lingua franca of the modern world. With his piece said, a nod passed, he turned to walk out.

Attempting to keep a guise of manners, Taylor stepped to the side but paranoia lingered, guiding her eyes to be locked onto the man. Instincts whispered danger. Ingrained ancestral fear of fire despite none being in sight. No rationality involved, only feeling. 

The intelligent side of her brain questioned the animal side, providing logical and clear reasons to its panicked and rabid reaction.

The man tilted his head down in passing. Cold, cold eyes. A fire frozen, awaiting to burst free from its icy prison. The question was asked again through those eyes.

Taylor stared back. Not offering an answer, but not stepping back from the question either.

The man huffed, removing his gaze from hers and exited the store. A soft chime ringing out.

With the man gone, the fiery presence was gone and she could move without it feeling as though smoke was clogging her movements. Attempting to shake it off did nothing, she pushed through. “Sorry for interrupting.” Taylor apologized. “Nobody is around so I thought it would be empty.”

“No trouble, no harm done. That discussion was lasting too long anyway. Once again, you arrived at just the right time to save me trouble.” The lady chuckles, more lively with just them around. “Regardless, I assume you didn't come for a purely social visit?”

“I wanted to see how you were doing.” Taylor said, easing into the conversation. “And you did say to come back after some time. Something about a… gift?” She didn’t want to come off as selfish, only returning for the chance of a reward. “But don't feel pressured to give me anything. I didn't do this for the reward.”

“How considerate. Naive, but considerate.” The lady said, freely speaking her mind. Casual judgment tossed Taylor's way. “You will not be leaving this place without something in your hands. It's simple kindness. You gave me something, I give you something.”

“Really, you don't-”

“I do not like repeating myself, girl.” The woman smiled. A strained sword in its sheath.

“...okay.”

“Good.” The smile lessened, more casual. Getting up from her chair, the lady reached underneath the counter and pulled out a folded blanket. Laying it down, she unraveled it, draping the beautiful fabric across the glass. An ornate and archaic looking rosary was revealed, red gleaming beads intermixed with pure white beads that were so polished she could see a myriad of her own reflections peering back as she leaned down to get a closer look. Ephemera paper curled into a tiny scroll hung attached to the guru bead. It gave off a pleasant warmth, a gentle hum of life and safety.

“Amongst my travels, through the valleys of Mount Kailash,” the lady began, a distant look in her eyes, “I was… broken. Unable to escape the crimson of my past, dreaming of tidal waves and the curses I left in my wake. It was on the edge of the sacred mountain of Samvara, that was to be my final resting place, my place of punishment, that I met a bhikkhuni who helped me understand.”

“Understand what?” Taylor asked. Eyes flickering between the rosary and the lady.

“What it means to forgive.” The lady finished, tapping the guru bead on the rosary. “In my last days with her, I made this rosary. Not with hate, bloodlust, or an urge to destroy as with all my other creations.” A gesture to every weapon displayed. “But with love, with heart, hand-woven and crafted with an intent to help. To only heal, never to harm. I give you this, Karuna. Please treat it well. It will do so in return.”

“I… can't take this.” Taylor blinked, stepping away. From everything this woman said, this was an item that she made in the midst of self-discovery. Something that defined who she was today. “It wouldn't be right.”

“Oh, shush, girl.” The craftswoman laughed, not unkindly. “It may hold importance to me, but I have learned- no, I am still learning to let go. Let go of people who have wronged me, that I have wronged, the mistakes I've made. It is a long road, one I am not sure I will reach the end of by the time it all ends, but to try is its own reward. I want you to have it, nameless girl, because…” 

The woman paused, tilting her head, mouth open slightly, eyes glazed over. A blink and those silver eyes were tranquil. “Because I do not want you to end up like I once was.”

Taylor couldn't keep the warmth from spreading out from her heart at the gesture. When was the last time someone had shown her such kindness? A chuckle broke from her mask, a starved thing. “Am I that special? I don't deserve this.”

“You are special, special in the way you are to your mother, and to your father and…” She reached over to poke her mask. “To yourself, even if you don't realize it. Keep to yourself, stay true to who you are, and if you become lost…” A humorous smirk emerged on the woman's lips. “I can always arrange a trip to Trans Himalaya for you. The place can do wonders for your mind.”

“Sounds nice, but I'm not sure my dad would agree to a trip that far away.” Taylor joked, body slouching.

“Then a trip for two then.” The woman added. Sitting back down, legs crossing. “I'm positive he can use a hike. The mountain ranges there are some of the most beautiful in the world. They give one a new perspective.”

“His back might not agree with that.” Taylor smiled underneath her mask, fingers caressing the beads, attention split. “But anyways, are you sure I can take these?”

“More sure than I have ever been in my life.”

“Thanks.” She lifted the beads and while her eyes weren't keen enough to truly appreciate the craftsmanship that went into the creation of these. She could, however, value the sentimental value of them. “Karuna? That's its name?” She asked, gently placing it around her neck. A pleasant tingle spreading across her power, like a warm hug.

The woman nodded. “It means compassion, to the self and to others.”

“Fitting.” Taylor mumbled, fiddling with the beads. “I won't let it out of my sight. I promise.”

“I'm sure you won't.” The woman turned to the clock. “It is getting late. After you leave, will you patrol or go back to your home? Just curious.”

“I wasn't planning on patrolling tonight but I might. Just a small lap around the docks. Nothing big, then I'll head home.” Taylor said and thought out loud. There weren't any plans to go ‘heroing’ tonight, but at the same time that means no plan to stick too. Freedom to adapt. A little loop around couldn’t hurt.

“Chosen a name yet?” The lady inquired.

“Um, no.”

“Ha, well, I will give one last piece of advice. Best choose a name soon, lest you get one thrust upon you by those who do not understand what you stand for.” The lady advised, almost lectured.

Hiding a sigh, Taylor nodded. It was harder than one would think to choose a name. Dreaming children choose names to be their heroic personas, plucked at random or after heroes that shaped their fantasies. It was easier then, to be blind to the world and the unfairness of it all.

Fairness, that was the biggest lie she was ever told. It was unfair her mother died, over a tragedy she never had control over. Unfair. Unjust. Everything that had happened in her life was dictated by unfairness. There was no such thing as fairness in the natural world.

Which is why…

“I'll make things fair.” Taylor mumbled, thought leaking out. A second later she realized and quickly shifted back on course. “Yeah, yeah. I'll think about it over the weekend. That should be enough time for one to pop up, at least a good one.” A pause. “Have any suggestions? I'm open to suggestions.”

“Hm..” The woman put a hand to her chin, tilting her head in thought. “A name shouldn't just be about your powers, but who you are. There are questions you must ask yourself. Who do you want to be? Who are you? What is it you fight for? What do you want to stand for? When you look at yourself, beyond the opinion of normalcy, what will you see? A mask that inspires hope or a shadow that strikes fear?”

“You make it sound like I'm gonna become a villain.” Taylor frowned, crossing her arms.

“Fear has its uses.”

“And disadvantages. Nobody will want to work with me if I go crazy.” Taylor drawled. Even if the wards were off the table, working with the PRT still sounded like a good deal. Fighting alongside heroes like Armsmaster, Miss Militia, Velocity. Perhaps even the big three themselves one day, but that was a pipe dream.

“The path you are partaking in is one of many different roads. Sometimes, you won't know what roads you've passed, collapsed, or walked on until you look back and can't see where you started.” The lady said. “What matters, is that you don't stop.”

“Of course, stopping isn't in my playbook.” Taylor stated.

She was just given a smile in return.

‘Wait… I never asked her name.’ Taylor thought, an urge to face palm becoming more and more prevalent. ‘Way to go.’

“I never got your name. Kinda awkward, referring to you as just “the woman” inside my head.” Taylor tried to make light of her rudeness.

Luckily, the woman seemed to take it in stride. “You haven't given me your name yet, perhaps I shouldn’t give you mine.”

“I have to earn your name?”

“No, I'm just fooling about.” The woman waved her incredulity off. “I'm Haruko, Haruko Muramasa.”

‘Wait…’

“Muramasa? You mean you're name after that muramasa?” Taylor said. “Explains the store name.”

“It's a matter of family pride. It would reflect poorly on me not to pay respects to my ancestor.” The woman laughed, watching Taylor's form go still as her mind slotted in the pieces.

“Family? You mean-”

“Yes, what you are thinking would be correct.”

“Huh…” Taylor drawled, unsure of what to say to that. It could've very well been a lie but considering all of the weapons displayed, the craftsmanship that even her ignorant eyes could tell the level of artistry that went into making them. It was hard to refute it and besides, what could she do to disprove it? It's not like she could just look Haruko up and expect her entire lineage to be presented in detail. “Why aren't you more popular then? Why set up in the docks? The boardwalk would get you a lot more attention.”

“Personal reasons. I made a promise to someone. Our relationship is loathsome, but built on necessity. I do not break promises, as a rule, even to a man I despise.” Haruko explained, steely.

The loyalty was respectable. An urge to ask about the promise rose but was quickly pushed back down. Taylor didn't want to be asking this woman questions about her personal life. It was strange she was so open to talking about it though.

Seeing capes wasn't that uncommon in stores. Typically, it was on the boardwalk with the heroes stopping by as eye candy to the eager tourists. Less common were the wards walking into your store to buy a snack. Being in the same store as one brought dulled awe and a little trepidation. A cynical or paranoid thought lurking at the back of the mind. What if a fight breaks out? The heroes will protect you, but they can't always save you.

Haruko had opinions on capes, that was for sure. So her ease can't be excused as fan behavior.

Generosity is a powerful thing.

‘Maybe she's just lonely. I can't imagine this place getting many customers out here.’ Taylor thought. ‘You and me. You and me.’

“I gotta run.” Taylor said, not feeling her own words. This was a nice place, with a nice lady who had enough wisdom to spend days listening too. “But, could I visit again? If that's fine with you.”

“Of course.” Haruko said, then wiggled her eyebrows. “Maybe I can get you to spend some money on my works of art, after all.”

“Yeah right, half of the stuff here costs more than my dad makes in a year.” A smile threatened to curve up behind her mask. “Besides, I have no idea how to use any of these weapons. I'm more likely to cut myself than anything.”

“That can be fixed.” Haruko mused, a look in her eyes, an old light bulb glinting. She made a ‘shooing’ motion with her hand, cupping her chin with the other. “Now shoo. I have things to do, unless you want to help me with cleaning.”

“What kind of cleaning?”

“Oh, just the cleaning of every item here. I could use an extra set of hands-”

“Actually, I think I'm good.” Taylor quickly took back her interest, face paling. Everything? That would take all night! “Have a nice night, miss Muramasa!” She swiftly walked out of the store before the lady could drag her into a night shift.

What an odd woman.

— 5 —

‘This wasn’t part of the plan.’ Taylor hissed, to no one but herself. ‘Then again, there was no plan. I don’t know what's worse.’

It had become apparent she had a stalker. Glimpses of white ash, fading flashes of a figure standing on the edges of her vision. Always just out of sight, gone in a blink, mistaken as a mirage.

First, the night she stopped the robbery.

Second, at her own house.

And tonight it was even more apparent. Enough was enough.

A plan was hatched. Made in a second. It wasn’t a good one, in hindsight, or a smart one, but it worked in the moment. Letting herself sink in the shadows, Taylor laid in wait for her stalker to reveal themselves and while she had a good idea on who it was, being proven wrong would've been nice. Just once.

Concealed in darkness, still as a preying wolf, she saw who her secret admirer was. In a haze of bleached ash, Oni Lee teleported onto the building she vanished on. A snarling crimson mask scanned the rooftops for his target and found nothing but shadows. The grinning leer slowly swept over the rooftop corner, pausing for a brief moment – Her heart stopping – before he moved on. A single step, and he was gone. A distant silhouette on a far off rooftop.

That, was where this idea kicked off.

An idea to follow him because he was a villain and up to no good, obviously. Maybe he could lead her to a safe house where, after leaving, she could swoop down and clear it out. Ninja style.

But no good deed goes unpunished.

She hadn't considered the possibility this was all a trap 

 And this was her punishment for such carelessness.

A metal mask evoking the image of an eastern dragon stared at her, lounging on a couch. Another dragon underneath it, tattooed to the chest of its wearer, surrounded by more of its kin, almost bursting from his skin.

Lung.

Taylor gulped, still feeling the phantom sting of Oni Lee's blade on her neck.

The draconic gang leader didn't say a word, letting his presence say everything for him.

Her teeth gritted.

It was just them. Out of arrogance or a show of power or both, Lung had ordered his lieutenant and the two haggard women sitting on his couch to leave them. The latter two had gladly taken the chance.

Anger shook inside the bottle.

“What do you wan-”

“Sit.”

Her mouth clamped down at his interruption.

She looked to the chair. It was a nice red, leather and remarkably clean for a gang. Inviting. Her legs were a bit sore. Yesterday was leg day, though technically it was everyday since cardio.

“No, I'll stand.” Taylor said, cursed energy soaking her body, enough to attempt a burst of speed and summon… whatever was necessary.

A huff of dark amusement reverberated through Lung's mask, taking the disrespect in stride. He was the type of man she thought wouldn't take that, who'd stand up and threaten to peel her flesh off with his flames until she sat.

Maybe he was more than that, or just thought she wasn't a threat worthy enough.

Both things left her with different things. Neither were nice.

“Seven minutes.” Lung started, pits of fire glaring at her. “That is how long you have to convince me not to kill you.”

“Why?” Taylor questioned, sweat pooling at the bottom of her neck. ‘I can't afford to panic. I need a way out. Something to beat him with. Oni Lee is still around, probably, and countless more. I can't get into a direct fight with this guy!’

“I don't like you.” Lung said. “And I do not hold any respect for your family.”

‘Family?! He-!’

“I tolerate one accursed soul in my territory. She is a tool. I am necessary. You hold nothing but a remnant of the past. It would be better off if you killed yourself right now.” Lung declared, scoffing mixed with a laugh. “Your existence is ironic, almost enough for me to let you live on as a mockery, but a woman you may be, you are a Zen'in still.”

‘Huh?’

“Fuck.” Taylor said, death's breath cooling her sweating neck. Hands twitching.

“Six minutes.”

Chapter Text

“Forward momentum. Doesn't matter if it's uphill or downhill, just keep moving. Stopping is where the trouble starts.”

— 6 —

Six minutes.

How could one person, a girl who has not even lived a fraction of her life, make an argument for continued existence?

To make a plea to a callous murderer, who trades lives for simple power and pleasure.

A villain who wouldn't hesitate to kill her.

What could she even say? What could she say that wouldn't place her identity at risk? Did that even matter?

‘I need to buy time- No, I can't even do that.’ Taylor thought in a daze of racing ideas that were discarded in seconds. Lung seemed content to lounge about, watching her silently fumble and panic inside the confines of her mind. Trying to find an escape route, through her words or in the environment, with each flick of the eyes.

One minute was almost up.

She was keeping count.

‘Talk… I need to talk.’

“You know me.” Taylor began with a voice that did not match her shaky thoughts. “You know who I am, where I live. Why don't you just kill me, why waste time letting me talk?”

“It is a simple pleasure.” Lung rumbled. “To see a Zen'in squirm.”

Zen'in. A last name. Not a cape name. It was Japanese. And it had no correlation to her, but Lung thought it did and right now, he decided the rules. It was best not to piss him off any further than she already had, by just existing it seemed.

“I am not a Zen'in.” Taylor affirmed. Steady. Not a single crack in her walls.

“You don't believe you are. I do not care what you believe.” Lung rejected. “Your clan is holding on by threads, fallen from grace after the slaughter wrought on them by one of their own in a time of crisis. They prayed for divine intervention, for their sacred treasure to return and bring them back to the heavens they so proudly boasted from once ago.” Flaming venom was spat out alongside his words. “And here you are. A girl with no knowledge of who she is, of what she holds.” A mocking laugh tickled out from his mask, for once not directed at her but at this clan he was speaking of.

“I do know.” Taylor corrected. Hands clenched, hidden behind her coat.

“Oh?”

‘It doesn't matter if I reveal this. He already knows where I live, who I am. I don’t lose anything from this, but I can gain something.’

Information.

“It's…” She hesitated, for a brief moment. “Cursed energy. A technique. I'm not a parahuman.”

“So you have the very basics learned, but what else?” She almost didn't catch it, may as well just be her imagination, but his tone shifted.

Five minutes.

“I have the Ten Shadows.” Taylor continued, swallowing nothing, not even spit. So dry, enough to start making her voice hoarse. “A technique to summon ten shikigami. I know what I am. I'm not ignorant.” She was bullshiting. There was a lot she still didn't know, but she could work off context clues from what Lung said and what she did know. He just needed to talk more. Maybe he'll even forget about the countdown, as unlikely as that is.

“You know what you wield, but do you know what it means?” Lung asked. “You shake the balance. My balance.”

“Balance? What balance?” Taylor questioned. “You're a…” What was he? He was a villain, that was for sure, but he knew things. Knowledge about cursed energy and all things involving it. Does that mean… “A sorcerer.”

“No.” Like a gust of wind extinguishing a building fire, Lung shot her deduction down.

‘Shit. Then what is he? A mind reader?’ Taylor cursed. The tick tock of her death sentence a steady drumming shaking her skull. New tactic then. “I don't care what you think. You say I'm a part of this ‘Zen'in Clan’? You may be right but that doesn't make it correct. How close are you to your ancestors? Do you care for them? Pause to consider what they may be thinking?”

“I am me.” Like a dragon, only concerned with himself and what is his.

“Then you have my answer.” Taylor declared. “Did the killer of the Zen'in clan consider themselves part of the clan? They did not.” ‘Please be right.’ “I am me. I make my own choices. I don’t care for whatever my ancestors or distant relatives think.”

Four minutes.

“Are you so vain to think,” He leaned forward, looming like a giant even from his couch, “you can escape their wrongdoings? Their wrongdoing against me?”

“What point will there be in killing me?” Taylor argued for her life. “I am so far removed from this clan that whatever vendetta you have against them can't possibly be sated with my death.”

“Do I need a reason to kill you?” Lung merely said. A simple fact.

An ice cold shiver shot down her spine. A stark reminder of who she was dealing with. A ruthless killer, the leader of the second biggest gang in the entire city. How much blood clung to his hands and how much gallons were burnt away to make way for more? There had to be something . Something to convince him.

And if she couldn't, there was only one answer left to give.

“What reason do you not have to spare me?” She tested.

“You are a hero.” Lung insulted. “That, alone, I don't care for but it is what you represent.”

“The Zen'in clan?”

“Change.” He growled. “Change in the balance. You bring horror and death, your very presence fuel for this starved land.”

Just like that, another curveball. It burned away her ideas and hastily made plans on impact.

“You don't have room to talk.” Taylor glared. “You do the same. You cultivate a gang of fear and killing. If you were killed, nothing would change. Actually, things would get better.”

“Until they don't.” Lung countered. “I am a check, for egos that don't hold my patience and restraint. I am a balance, for the things made of true fear and terror. Without me, another monster will take my place.”

“How honorable.” Taylor couldn't help a small jab, even for a temperamental dragon. “You rule with fear. What happens if you meet someone who is fearless?”

“They become mine. They learn.” Lung answered. “If they don't, they die.”

“You can't win every fight.”

“I don't have too.”

Silence.

Three minutes.

“You say I bring horror and death.” Taylor started, changing topics rapidly to keep him distracted. “Care to explain?”

“If you don't know, then you are even more foolish than I thought.” Lung scoffed. “A girl running with an oversized knife, uncaring for who it carves open in her wake. All so she can play hero. Sorcerers are not heroes. Never can be. You are delusional.”

His words struck something inside her. A buried bright light, outshining even her grotesque shadow. A better world, forged by heroes and good people. A world where she didn’t exist. Somewhere a girl like her could be happy, living alongside a childhood friend, eating dinner with a lively family. A home not shrouded in a twice-layered self hatred and the memories of better days. It was a fairyland. Something a child dreamt up to escape the wreckage of reality.

Nirvana.

A liberation from the cycle perpetuated by the hateful and scornful and distrustful.

She wanted to experience that world, even for a moment. To make that child that had her dreams shattered with a single phone call, proud.

‘I want you to live.’

“Then I'll make my delusion into the truth.” Taylor said. “So what if sorcerers can't be heroes? Who decided that? Screw that. You want to tell me what to do? You'll have to kill me if you want me to stop. Kill me, but I won't make it easy for you.”

Lung stared. Silent.

Then his shoulders shook and he laughed. A full belly, throaty, bursting laugh . It was so uncharacteristic, if Taylor had been moving, she would've stumbled from the sheer shock.

“You've convinced me.” Lung said, standing up.

Taylor blinked, then blinked again. She mentally shook her head, not letting herself get distracted. Not around Lung. Cursed energy was still coating her body, but for a moment, the output was plugged. Maybe, a fight wouldn't be necessary.

Lung walked past the lounge area, footsteps matching his physique.

He stopped just a few feet away, head slightly tilted like a curious reptile who just saw a fascinating prey maneuver.

“Am I free to go? Taylor asked.

Lung didn't say anything, only staring. His stance relaxed, hands resting nonchalantly in ripped jeans.

He tutted.

“When did I say you could leave ?”

Surprise stunned Taylor just long enough for the spike in heat to pull her breath from her dry throat.

In the flash ignition of a fire, Lung's stance burst from casual to a roaring dragon. Tattoos shimmering, skin rippling like a sea of scales were crashing against the surface of his body.

It was faster than she could blink.

The distance between them rendered meaningless.

A meteor of a fist impacted Taylor right in the chest.

Fissures of pain, searing and white hot, erupted across her entire being.

Every bone in her body felt broken, every muscle torn, every last nerve twisted and dipped in fire and set to burn.

The world spun, the stars circling in the night sky, lines of pure white left behind.

‘M-Move.’ Even thinking was hard, thoughts burned into embers by the fire engulfing her body. ‘Dull p-pain. C-can't stop. H-Hot. F-Fuck.’

All the pain sparked her cursed energy, output peaking. A flood of fear, terror, anger, electrified the agony into docility. Too many thoughts disconnected, drowning alone, but she didn't need to think. Not right now. A desire was all that was needed. Something more burning than the now dull thrum and throb. Just a simple desire.

Do something.

Still in spasming throes, Taylor lifted herself up. Strength pooled into her aching muscles, awareness pierced hazy senses, swiftness injected into sluggish limbs. Rubble fell off her, dust penetrated her mask and forced a hoarse scratchy cough. She tried to stand, only to stumble and fall on her knees. Crimson warmth trickled past her mask and stained the ruined floor.

Even with cursed energy blunting the stabbing needles in her nerves, her hands shook. Focus slipped between her fingers as she tried to summon a shikigami. Lung had her dead to rights.

Fortunately for her, the man seemed in no hurry.

Out of arrogance, mockery, or sadism, it didn't matter.

Not even the electricity from Nue's taming ritual had knocked her down this badly. A static shock to sticking her hand in a bonfire. ‘I can't fight him directly. That punch knocked me…’ Taylor snapped her eyes around. She was in a different room, a newly formed crumbling entrance-way where her body was blasted through. A large silhouette coming closer and closer, flames creeping out from the edges of the dust cloud. ‘Into a different building.’ She gasped, pointedly avoiding thinking about how her chest felt like it was being stabbed with each breath, shifting focus from piercing ringing in her ears.

Another stomp.

Not even the cold breath of death could cool the heat.

Lung broke through the dust cloud, interlocking scales bursting around his skin, talons bulging underneath his nails.

Her hands stopped shaking.

The ringing ceased.

‘Now!’

“Great Serpent!”

A snake erupted from twisting shadows behind Taylor, crossing the distance and slamming into Lung, the dragon snarling; kicking up even more dust from his skidding feet.

Recalling the shikigami instantly, a gesture in her mind had it slam into a fragile pillar holding up the creaking ceiling before fading back into her shadow. The sorcerer darted to a side room, kicking a door off its hinges in the process. The roof caved in and a building growl broke past the crash. Spotting a window, she decided to do an maneuver every kid daydreamed of. Throwing her fist back, reinforced to steel, it was slammed forward. The window exploded into a shower of razor-sharp shards.

‘I have more of an advantage out in the open!’

“Nue!”

Shadowy wings extended out and coalesced into a thunderbird, her hand reaching up to grab hold of its large talons-

She felt the heat wave before the fire. The same instincts that saved her from being electrocuted tore control away. Letting go of Nue mid-air, she had half a mind to immediately pull it back. A pillar of flame lit up the night sky, brighter than the stars and the city glow. The thunderbird made no sound as it was briefly engulfed in the passing inferno, any agony short-lived as it melted into shadows just as quickly.

Falling back on a not at all trained landing strategy, her legs made contact with the ground. The two story drop reduced to merely missing a step on a staircase, including the heart dropping feeling. Shouts rang out, some in surprise, others in fear.

That fiery presence was getting closer by the second. Lung.

‘I don't have time for you!’ Taylor clasped her hands together, red flashing in her shadow, melding into two sets of glaring eyes.

“Divine dogs!”

‘Deal with them.’

Alone, she stood no chance. Gritting her teeth, the shouts of pain and animalistic growling fell on deaf ears, Taylor had the inklings of a plan. It was reckless, wild, and would likely give her a couple of third degree burns but it would work . Any time spent not fighting was time given to Lung, power granted by time lost.

So, she couldn't afford to give him any time.

Forming a hand sign, her shadow twisted but didn't burst into being. A glob of pure black sloughed off and slithered away, a hiss of anticipation following it.

Miniature cracks shook the air and the room she had jumped through exploded, sending heated shrapnel everywhere. A few struck her mask, sizzled upon contact with her coat. Taylor didn't flinch. She couldn't afford it. If she did, it would shake away a sliver of confidence and she needed every bit for this to work.

Lung cracked concrete as he landed, a few scales sharp as knives overlapping parts his skin, interlocking like plate armor. Flexing metallic muscles.

She didn’t hesitate.

“Great Serpent!”

Lung's fiery eyes narrowed and his hands shot up, talons almost ripping themselves out from his fingers. He had seen this move before not even a minute ago, predicting his opponent's shadow to lunge out as a fanged serpent. Clawed hands ready to grapple it and rip the head from the body.

Taylor grinned.

The snake did lunge out, predatory intent sharpened by the abyss, but not from her shadow. Its jaw dislocated, a gaping maw slamming shut around Lung's torso, cursed fangs puncturing through even scale-flesh. The villain snarled, flames flashing around him, but the snake's own scales provided a layer of protection from the fire. Enough for it to lift him up and fling him into the wall of a nearby compound building, mouth slick with blood. 

Darting forward, Taylor commanded her dogs to attack and recalled the serpent. A hand dipped down into her shadow and pulled out a simple metal bat. Not the most glorious weapon or one that could hurt a monster like Lung, but it was disposable.

Flames rolled out from the new hole in the building, dust flakes incinerated by the burst in heat. Gone was any pretence of an honorable warrior. This was a dragon hiding in the skin of a man. A monster.

“Nue!”

Basic high school physics lesson time.

Nue flew out from behind her and away with a command to build up a charge. Divine Dogs dashed into Lung, fur standing on edge. The villain growled, a fist slamming down on the black wolf that dodged it with a last minute jump. Fire popped into an explosion, catching the wolf mid-jump and sending it flying. Snarling at its twin being hurt, the white wolf ducked underneath a kick and slashed at the man's lower torso, scales breaking to seep crimson.

Clawing at the white wolf, Lung nicked it in the side at the tail end of his slash. Barking angrily, the wolf withdrew in a blink. A scratch for a scratch. A vengeful howl snapped Lung's attention in half, a jet of fire igniting alongside his sweeping hand. It engulfed the howl.

She was close enough. Taylor sped into a blur, a glint of blue trailing behind her mask. Rifts of raw cursed energy broke out on the basement bat, the mundane object unable to contain the flood of negativity. It didn't have too, not for long. High above, Nue tucked in its wings and swooped down, electricity crackling with a keen focus.

Two sides of determination met, one held in darkness and one burning with decades old rage.

Lung gave her his undivided attention.

‘Good.’

A part of her felt a sudden urge to gloat, to ramble about how she is outsmarting him.

That can be done once he's on the ground.

A lightning bolt descended from the heavens, carried by a bird birthed from thunderstorms. The mad electricity bounced between the flames rolling off Lung, arcs of purple forming an inverse faraday cage around the villain and all that charge had to go somewhere. Fire was conducive, not as good as metal but at high enough voltage? The already shaking ions did the rest. With a thunderclap, all that electricity slammed into Lung with enough current to cook a whole chicken.

Crackling lightning seared scales, twisting around cooked organs, muscles spasming in the aftershocks of a couple million volts, blood boiling inside his veins. Brain overloaded by the sheer amount of signals smashing into it. Nerves becoming scorched circuits for her trick. The villain was used to pain, but a part of him was still human and nothing stunned more than agony.

All she needed was a second.

Even as the flames raged wildly in response to Lung's agony, catching fire to her coat, licking her arms with their blistering tongues.

This was nothing compared to the first strike. This, was payback.

Mimicking an MLB pro, Taylor gripped the fissure-lined bat, reeled her arms back, and bashed it into Lung's chest. The rifts of raw cursed energy ruptured upon impact, overloading the meager material for a devastating explosion.

Lung's torso crumbled, the force behind the blow enough to shatter his bones and snap the spine. With a thunderous boom, he was sent flying back further into the building, crashing through multiple rooms and into another building.

Taylor was not exempt from physics. Her body followed the opposite path, kicked back by the shockwave into the open clearing where she had originally landed.

Her head hit the ground with a sickening thud , vision sent swimming for the second time today. Despite the ringing enveloping all sound again, Taylor laid there, letting the seconds tick by. Fighting was exhausting. Movies never got that right and it had been a ice bath in her previous fights, even with cursed energy. Her chest burned with each breath, seeking respite for the marathon she just put it through.

‘Might… be the broken ribs. Do I have broken ribs?’ Taylor mumbled to herself inside her head, letting cursed energy chase away the exhaustion to a later day. The world became still, vision correcting itself. Deciding the answer to that question wasn't important, she stumbled to a stand. Just in time to catch a glint of steel in the corner of her vision. An arm was thrown up bat it away. Turning to the source, a demonic mask leered at her before dropping the oversized knife from his right to his left. Twisting her body, she let it sail past and threw a quick unsteady punch.

Oni Lee scattered into white ash with a clink of metal hitting the ground.

Looking down, Taylor kicked instinctively.

The explosive arced through the air before detonating. White slime shot out, attaching to any surface it touched and clung tightly.

She pursed her lips, stepping back. One after another.

Another flash of movement. No time to think, only act.

“Toad.”

A ribbit announced the arrival of her third shikigami. Throwing her head back to avoid the speeding knife, a tongue shot out with faster speed. It wrapped around Oni Lee and retracted, bringing him with. His hand whipped up to his chest, hooking around a pin and flicked it off. Eyes widening, Taylor commanded Toad to do the same to the suicidal villain. Sweeping its body to the side, the shikigami let Oni Lee go mid-arc.

The silent man broke into a cloud of ash. The grenade exploding twenty feet away, harmlessly.

Snapping her head around, Taylor spotting him on a nearby rooftop and like Lung, gave him no time. Dismissing Toad and cycling through hand signs.

“Nue!”

There had to be a better way of summoning them. A way to subtract from the steps. Something to consider when her life isn't in constant danger.

The thunderbird had served her well. Lightning was something hard to avoid. She would know. It could also lock up limbs.

Oni Lee acted first. When he stepped off the roof, she knew it was a clone and immediately scanned her environments. A sqawk alerted Taylor too late, as arms wrapped around her throat and a knife jabbed into it. Instantly, her elbow rammed violently into his stomach. Another clone, breaking into ash around her.

Before she could find Oni Lee again, fire streaked down from above like punishment by a vengeful deity. Taylor was forced to throw herself to the side or be cooked alive, skidding on her smoking sneakers.

Lung had returned.

And he was pissed.

Having grown taller, bigger, his eyes casted a menacing glow in the night. A corona around his mask. Lethality was the shape of his body, not the otherway around.

One. After. Another.

Taylor groaned.

Lung shared her exasperation, though it manifested in an enraged wave of fire.

Jumping over the infernal wave, Taylor broke into a full sprint the moment she hit the ground. Explosions chased her blurring form. A destination in mind, but she lacked the momentum to reach it. That needed to change, she had to adapt. Faster! Faster! Each plan was more reckless than the next. That was the risk of being a cape.

Though how many would predict a teenage girl to catch the shockwave of an explosion to propel herself up to a rooftop?

Such recklessness was borderline suicidal, but it played to unpredictability.

‘He won't fall for the same trick again.’ Taylor reasoned, reaching the edge the building and dropping off into a thankful empty street. No sirens. That wasn't good. How long had it been since the fight had started? Any sense of time was lost when she smacked her head on the concrete, and in that agonizing punch that ignited this wildfire. ‘If that didn't put him down, what will?’

A lightning bolt contained around three hundred million volts. Take away a couple million given Nue's attack wasn’t a true lightning strike. An average person can survive that, but only because of multiple factors: It was likely raining and water was an amazing conductor, serving as a blanket to absorb the electricity. The lighting rarely strikes the person directly, meaning they will get current flowing through their legs instead of frying their heart.

Lung had none of those advantages. In fact, he had a disadvantage because the fire around him allowed a stronger current to be built up before striking him straight on the head. He hadn't been covered completely in metal – were they metal? – scales yet either, which now would give him more protection against any lightning strike.

Then he was hit with a bomb in the shape of a bat.

And gotten up from it, even stronger. Time was against her. She needed to end this fast or run, but running…

“Since when did I say you could leave?”

Lung knew where she lived. He would hunt her down, surely. The only way to guarantee her safety was to beat him and shove him into prison with the help of the PRT. Or, more unlikely, force a surrender but the gang leader didn't strike her as the type of man to willingly retreat in a fight like this. Maybe if she had the backup of New Wave or some PRT heroes, then it would be a viable strategy.

Above her, she heard the crackle of a rageful inferno and a draconic growl that chased away any other sound it deemed inferior.

Backing away into the middle of the street, illuminated by a dim street light, a long shadow casted behind her. An idea popped into her mind, originating from an old show she used to watch with Emma about a hero who could summon and control various animals. The similarities were not lost on her but his were light based and the show had an air of happiness to it. Hope always won in the end, the villain always defeated in a flash of inspiration from the hero.

Taylor's eyes glinted behind her mask. Hands clasping together, in a new shape.

‘I'm sure he wouldn't mind if I borrowed a trick.’

Fire swept over the rooftop.

Her hands folded into a wolf shape, but her fingers curled, like arcing of electricity. Two images overlapped inside her mindscape, revamping the old designs into a newer but simultaneously lesser version. Aspects traded and exchanged, fused. Taylor breathed and a name came to her, inspired by a discontinued cartoon.

“Storm Chasing Wolves.”

A combination of Nue and Divine Dogs.

Fangs coated in jagged lines of purple electricity tore apart the darkness, revealing two wolves with fur standing permanently on edge, flickers of purple dancing between each strand. Lightning swimming in swift eyes. They twitched madly, as if unable to contain the energy coursing through them. An almost untameble need to move .

Instinctively, she knew the loss they suffered. They weren't as strong, claws blunted by the merging and neither were they as durable, what they lost was made up in one aspect: speed. Hit and run incarnate.

Her reserves took a nasty spill at summoning them, but as long as they served their purpose, it was an acceptable sacrifice.

A smirk pulled at her lips, even as flames pooled over the rooftop and their creator strode into view.

“Round two.” Taylor declared.

Lung's answer to the declaration was to jump off the building, body flaring brightly as missles of fire screamed down at the source of his hatred.

Her wolves became lightning, zipping from their location and appearing away in a flash of purple, bolting forward to meet Lung head on. Their owner kicking back into the darkness, letting it wrap around and hide her away from the infernal missles, becoming another shadow amongst countless.

Lung landed and was instantly besieged by the Storm Chasing Wolves. Each swipe avoided by a hair's length, only striking the afterglow of purple. Like irritating mosquitoes that darted away the moment a hand was raised to smack them. Growling, flames curled up and twirled around him in a tiny fire tornado. Snarling lightning circled him, dodging spears of fires breaking off from the cyclone.

Reptilian eyes locked onto a blur and with keen timing, he pounced. Lightning was restrained in scaled claws. The living figment of the storm bit down but the power sacrificed for speed left its fangs as pinpricks against steel.

Lung narrowed his eyes. Where did their owner go-

Bursting from the shadows, a fist slammed into his mask. Scales dented inwards, head snapping to the side. A sharp kick to the liver, blunt force reverberating through the armor-skin and into traumatized organs.

Flames erupted violently, a limb of fire smacking the sorcerer but only struck empty air.

The wolf in his grip faded into the shadows and sparked back into form in the inky darkness.

Lung huffed hot smoke.

The pattern repeated in nauseating simplicity. Electricity tickled him, split up attention, until an opening emerged, and the shadows would come alive to hammer his skull and crack his skin.

Taylor had the upper hand. She was making progress.

Her fist broke through the darkness, Lung distracted by a Storm Wolf trying its best to tear apart his mask. She needed to knock him out. Easier said than done. ‘Aim for the head! Disoriente him.’

Ramming her fist into his mask, a crack split along the cheek. Not letting up, Taylor let loose another punch. Another crack! ‘Come on! Pass out!’ A third, a fourth! Every punch knocked his head away, like he was a punching bag.

On the fourth hit, something shifted.

A chuckle, predatory and cruel.

Blue overtook his flames for less than a blink and that was all it took.

A claw snapped into motion.

Her arms closed into a block.

Her shoulders, hands, arms. They all felt as though every single bone was broken into tiny pieces and those shards were carving up her nerves.

Taylor stumbled back several feet, dazed. Open.

A burst of movement. Something his size shouldn't move that fast. An arm streaked through the air like a comet, gaining speed as it came up from below.

Her chest almost caved in from the impact this time.

The crack of violently displaced air filled the empty dock streets.

Wind swept past her, chest feeling as though a freight train had rammed into it full speed. She couldn't breathe, any oxygen refused to enter, caught in the rushing wind. Head limpy bouncing around, Taylor caught a glimpse of the city lights. Unobstructed by buildings.

‘Oh… I'm in the air.’

With the sluggish realization came gravity, both physical and figurative.

“G-G-Great Serpent.” Her voice was barely a shout, little more than a whisper.

The snake lunged out from the darkness, fangs retracted, and caught Taylor in its dislocated jaw. Bringing her back to the ground in safety, all the while taking the brunt of blue lined flames. Spitting the sorcerer out, it turned to enact vengeance on the monster who had hurt her.

Taylor spat out blood, barely thinking. A spike of agony scattered any focus built up for pure survival and Great Serpent broke apart into globs of black, thankfully before a lance of azure flame could pierce its head.

Again. She was on the ground. Dead. To. Rights.

“Give up.” Lung growled, dragging her up by hair. “You did your best. It wasn’t enough. Foolish, but you could prove useful.”

This was it?

This was all she had?

Losing to a monster like Lung?

Taylor looked him in the eye, seeing a conviction that disgusted her to the core.

If that's how the dice was rolled, then so be.

She'll flip the table.

“Y-You know what I have.” Taylor coughed out. Sharp pain tightening its hold on her consciousness, suffocating any rationality out. “You know what I u-use.”

“An accursed technique, masquerading as a sacred treasure. Yes. I do. What of it, brat?” Lung said.

“Then you know of i-it .” Taylor glared, a look of a dead girl. “The divine protector.”

Lung paused.

That was enough for her. The twitch of recognition. Now, all she had to was exploit it.

“With… this… scared… treasure…” Taylor chanted, hands unsteadily raising, one behind the other. The words trembled the very air, a weight superseding everything around her. Street lights flickered. “I summon-!”

Lung dropped her.

Her chest hit the ground, knocking what little breath she had left out and cutting the finishing lines short. Running on pure adrenaline, fueled by commitment, she scrambled to her knees, opened her mouth, and let it hang open.

Lung was backing away, flames retreating. A new look in those burning pyres that made up his eyes.

Fear.

He hid it in a tsk .

“Enough, girl.” Lung snarled, more defensively. A sound of an animal who bit off more than he could chew. “You made your point.”

Fuck that.

“Eigh-!”

“I said enough !” Lung roared out.

…

“I'll do it.” Taylor panted, blood wetting her lips, her mouth. The harsh metallic tang was the only thing she could taste. “Don't fucking test me. You want t-to fight? I'll give you a f-fight.”

On trembling legs, she stood.

“One move, a single t-twitch I don't like, and I'll finish the chant.” Taylor vowed. “You can't move fast enough to stop me. Can you afford this fight? How much of your territory will be l-left?”

His silence pushed her to take a step forward.

“Zen'in-”

“Who said you could talk?” Taylor interrupted, shaking her positioned arms as warning for him to stay still . A twinge of mania leaked into her voice. “I certainly didn't. Here's what's gonna happen: You are going to walk away. I'm going to walk away. And we pretend this was all an elaborate dream. If you fuck me on this…”

She let the implication hang.

Every bit of her shook in a symphony of agony. It took everything she had not to pass out, not to let sweet oblivion rescue her from this hell. She could sleep when she's dead.

Sirens echoed at the edge of her hearing.

Lung stared. Specks of caution, lined with something she was too hazy to understand. Anger lingered all around him, tempered by her vow. His head tilted to the side, towards the sirens. “I underestimated you.” He said. “You have the makings of a sorcerer. The delusion included.”

“Uh-huh, and what does that have to do with you leaving exactly?”

Lung tutted. “Prideful too.”

He turned around. Flames extinguishing. “You are a curiosity.”

“A-” She spat blood again. “And you are an annoyance. ”

Lung, at last, walked away, without another word. Taylor watched him go, becoming a silhouette in the darkness, until he vanished. How long she stood there, she didn't know.

Holding up her end of the deal, she turned around and began to walk away.

She only made it a few steps before the walk turned into a stumble. The stumble into a limp. The limp into leaning crawl against a street wall.

Everything was so hazy, the world swirling into a mess of light and darkness. Leaving her in an abyss of pain.

Was she going in the right direction?

Maybe.

‘Dad… will worry. Need to- to make it back home. ’

She giggled at the image of him tearing his hair out at the revelation his daughter fought Lung . He could be such a worrywart. He was the best, really.

Her world spun, foot catching a pothole and she fell.

Her arms sluggishly whipped out to catch the wall she was using as a cane.

Something caught her, chest flaring up in pain.

Her cursed energy reserves sparked from the pain and her fist snapped out to attack whoever touched her.

“There, there.” A soothing accented voice said. “I got you, nameless girl.”

Her fist hit empty air and she tilted her head to get a look at the owner of the voice.

“Ah…” Taylor drawled, arm going limp. “M-Miss Muramasa-”

“Shh, it's okay.” Haruko pulled her close, letting her head rest on the woman's shoulder. A glimpse of a black katana case as she fell even more limp. “You can rest now. Everything will be fine in the morning. Would you like a cup of tea when you wake up?”

‘That… sounds… wonderful…’

“Mhm.” She mumbled, eyelids drooping. “G-Good night, Miss Muramasa.”

A comforting laugh.

“Good night, nameless girl.”

Chapter Text

"Sundays are only off because, during training, you will need a god to pray to.”

— 1 —

Taylor awoke underneath an unfamiliar ceiling. Wooden and smooth, like the smell of home. But it was not home. She could tell, even with her vision hazy with lingering sleep. The waking sight she was familiar with was drywall ceiling, cracked with aged lines and coated in oil that masked the scent. This one had an earthly smell. A newly opened book. How easy was it to get lost in that smell, the only true familiarity in a room stuck between old and new.

She reluctantly tore her sight from it and looked around. Eyes narrowed as residual fatigue faded, hands clenching with the expectation of throbbing pain, but nothing stabbed her nerves. Last night came with a blink. The agony, the desperation, panic. A strange thrill crushed by draconic strength. Taylor lurched up, glancing around faster. Where was she? It wasn’t home. A stranger's place.

Another blink. A half open window to her right, an awakening city buzzing like a bee's hive. Traffic beeping and distant shrieking sirens. Morning's light glimpsed through buildings, not blinding but a comforting glow alongside the gentle breeze that followed it. Taylor almost appreciated it, eyelids trying to drag her back down into the painless oblivion it offered. Maybe she would've. Last night wasn't friendly on the bones but routine demanded her to be a morning person, and there was something more important at stake.

Her mask.

Taylor's hands flew to her face, touching soft skin instead of ceramic infused and hardened by day to day trauma. Breath hitched, then came out in gasps. No mask- Identity! No. Keep calm. Shove it into the bottle. Her breaths slowed as soon as they began to escape in a disruptive rhythm. Consider what happened last night. Who- what did she last remember?

A reckless gambit she didn't know would even work, based on half-formed insights and a whole lot of guess-work. But considering it was a ceiling she awoke too, tucked in with surprisingly pristine and soft white sheets, the gamble worked. Was this Mahoraga ‘divine general’ really that powerful that Lung of all people backed down at the mere threat of summoning it? Just what did she inherit? Something to think on later.

A creak snapped her eyes to the right.

As she was preparing to attack or spring out from bed, the door opened and a lady dressed in flowery sweatpants and dress shirt walked in. Familiar eyes, like she was staring into aged steel.

“Haruko-?” Taylor choked out, shoulders sloughing in surprise. Tension dulled. Wide eyes meeting the older woman's calm eyes.

“Awake, are we? You slept like you fought for your life, though I suppose you did.” Miss Muramasa's lips curled up, a tray held effortlessly in one hand. Balancing a bowl and a cup filled to the brim with water. How she did that without spilling any of it, Taylor never figured out. “Good morning, nameless girl. I hope last night's troubles did not follow you as you rested.”

Her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. She slapped it closed and attempted to regain some sort of composure. “I- good morning.” Taylor lamely returned. Everything seemed to be turned on its head. The final moments of last night were still foggy, hazed by pain and darkness. “You… saved me.” She guessed, hands curled around the sheets, not letting the lady out of sight.

Miss Muramasa shrugged, grabbing a nearby chair and hoisting it over to her bedside. Sitting down, she placed the tray on the nightstand, crossing her legs. “I only did the bare minimum. Can't say it was worth any praise.” The lady leaned forward slightly, eyes glinting with something. “You, however, are a sight to behold.”

Something bubbled in her stomach, like angry butterflies defiant of those words. Taylor swallowed dryly, trying to ignore the scratchy burn in her throat. She looked at the water on the tray. An oasis just a grab away. The need to keep Haruko in sight was lost to the desperate want for relief. A hand shot out to grab the cup, smooth wood caressing her palms, and drank in small gasps. Cool water numbing the scratchy desert that was her throat.

Taylor brought the cup down, and returned it to the tray. Haruko was still watching her, still as a tree. “You took off my mask.” Coming off as rude to the person who saved her wasn't something she would be proud of, but identity was what kept dad safe. Lung already knew and- an ugly thought swirled in her mind. ‘Maybe it would've been better to kill him.’ She shook it away, almost recoiling at the ease in which it came. Everyone had intrusive thoughts and lord knows they came at her enough but killing someone?

“My apologies but I would rather not dirty a bed of mine with blood.” Haruko said, unbothered. “Most of yours were internal however, so there was little clean. On that note, Not bad for a first fight. You're already doing more than most.”

“I fought Lung.” Taylor said. More of an out loud realization than a boast. Lung. She fought the villain who had fought, evaded and beaten the PRT on multiple occasions. Not only did she fight him, but scared him off! Her back straightened and a giggle slipped between closed lips. Pride was a rare emotion for her. There wasn't much to be proud about in life but this, this she wished could be hung up on a wall and displayed.

“Indeed you did.” Haruko nodded, a small tilt to her lips. “Ah, reminds me of the old days. Thrown to the wolves, without a speck of professional training.”

Taylor looked down at herself, getting a feel for the new clothes. Silky white shirt, baggy black pants. Simple things but they felt more comfortable and fine than anything she had worn before. A quick look around gave the room more detail. A dresser across from her, aforementioned nightstand, cracked an inch open window and only those. Sparse, that was how she would describe it. The barest necessities, suitable for a guest room, at least she assumed it was one. Like her own room. A fellow minimalist.

Flexing an arm, Taylor noticed the two wounds Great Serpent had given her before its taming had vanished. Not even scars were left behind. For a wound as deep as it was, she had expected it to become part of her routine. Peel off bandages, clean the wounds, then replace the bandages. But now, it was gone. Free from the constant pulse and ache each time she moved it. As a matter of fact, all the pain was gone. From what had happened last night, every movement should've hammered bruised muscles and stabbed sore nerves.

“Did you… heal me?” She asked. Haruko kept on making questions and too little answers. She had to be parahuman, but who? Not with the ABB considering they attacked her. She was Asian so clearly not the Empire. A lesser known gang maybe? Or even one of those independent. Less likely, she was like her. A ‘sorcerer.’ Lung had all but confirmed something bigger loomed over than simple parahumanity. She was swimming in unknown waters, exposed in the light, lacking her natural advantage.

“In a sense.” Haruko began, and when Taylor waited for a continuation, didn't say anything else. 

“I would highly appreciate some answers.” Taylor half-grumbled, not finding the cryptic answer satisfying at all.

Haruko stared for a moment, leaning on a hand perched atop her crossed legs. She hummed in thought before giving her answer. “Tell me, did that infuriating dragon tell you anything about yourself?” It was not one, just another question tossed at her.

Taylor sucked in breath between thin lips, holding herself back from demanding answers and accepting nothing but them. So infuriating, despite being helpful. That was the only reason she didn't do it. Haruko had been beyond helpful, had done nothing to warrant being exploded at by a girl she took time, risk, out of her night to save and heal.

Dragging up last night, she recalled everything Lung had said with painful precision. Hard not too. Agony made memories sharper. The villain knew what she actually was and vanquished any lingering denial. A name popped into her head, something deeper than blood pulsed like a dying heart. A spark, strange and faintly welcoming.

“He…” Taylor hesitated to share it but decided to continue. “Called me a “Zen'in.” Talked about a clan. It sounded like he had business with them, stuff he vented on me because apparently I'm related to it. You know something, don't you?” She gave the older lady an accusatory stare.

“At least you aren't completely clueless.” Haruko met it with ease. A chuckle followed behind her words. “Yes, I do know something. I know a lot, and many you will be better off not knowing.” She leaned forward, ever-present kind smile straightening into a thin, sharp line. “We can walk away from this. You go back to being a hero, I return back to a peaceful existence, and history remains buried.”

“It's not buried. Lung threw it right at me.” Taylor said as dry as her voice can get. “I have a right to know what's going on.”

Haruko huffed, leaning back in her chair. “So unlike him…” She whispered and swiftly continued. “Fine, but first eat your breakfast. It's best to think on a full stomach.” The tray was dropped on her lap a moment after she finished speaking. Taylor rose her hands to push it away but after an inhale, and an angry rumble down below, reconsidered. She looked at the soup. An aromatic scent of slow-cooked chicken spiced with foreign goods. It was almost intoxicating.

“...okay.” Her shoulders slumped.

Haruko got up, fixed her pants and headed for the door.

“I'll be downstairs. Take all the time you want, nameless girl. A long tale awaits you, and none of it is suited for a bedside telling.”

— 1 —

She must say…

 That soup was the best soup she had ever had. Whether that was because she was hungry enough to request two more bowls or some glorious spice combination, didn’t matter, even if she wanted more. There were more important matters to attend too. Though maybe she could ask Haruko just what she put into that delicious concoction.

Taylor filed those thoughts away for now. She had answers to get.

Sitting across from her, rays of gold peeking through still closed blinds, was the long-awaited source to every unanswered questions she had for two years. All the ones built up in the last two days. So many wanted to burst from her lips, like a flood whose dam no longer could withstand the pressure. Hands tried to fidget, tap on the table, but those were held back with an iron-grip. No more dilly-dallying. All or nothing.

She breathed in and asked her first question. “What am I?” A second later she realized how stupid that sounded. Shaking her head, Taylor quickly rephrased it. “I mean- I’m not a parahuman. I’m a sorcerer but what is that? Is it like… magic?”

Haruko sipped her cup and placed it down on a wooden cup holder, crossing her hands. A gaze of sharp focus that contrasted with the easy smile she gave her. “Many view it as such, and they are not wrong for doing so. It goes, or rather went, by countless names, each unique to the lands cursed by awareness of their own creation. Jujutsu, Shaman, Witchcraft, Hell-touched. It is an old, old way, belonging to an older history. Very few still practice, fewer are the ones who truly know. You ask what you are? You are a sorcerer, an individual who wields this dark aspect.”

“How old?” The book that introduced her to all this sprung into mind.

“As far back as our ancestors evolved to birth negativity.” Haruko said.

It took a moment for that to sink in. Powers had been around for thirty years. Online, she had seen outlandish and out-there theories that they existed for longer, that Scion was just the grand appearance of them to the public. In history's grand scale, they were a blip yet changed the world more than anything else. She wasn't religious or a crazy cultist, but it wasn’t a reach to consider some parahumans gods walking the earth. Despite that, science around parahumanity quickly emerged. Unknown became known. College classes set up for curious minds, careers revolving around study and analysis of what made them tick.

The idea it was magic quickly thrown out in favor of that which was readily understandable.

This however? Taylor's eyes widened as the scale set in. She wasn't as suspicious as she would've thought. What Haruko said defied two decades of study and everything she learned. Likely the book constituted a buffer for shock. Had she not found it, this all would’ve been unbelievable. If Gladly was here, he would’ve burst a blood vessel. The image made her lips twitch up, before they fell back down. “It's related to negativity? I mean I knew that. It's how I produce cursed energy but didn't know it was that old. The book looked ancient so guess I shouldn't be surprised.”

“Book?” Haruko raised an eyebrow. “I assumed someone taught you at the very least.”

“No, I learned that from a book I found. Really old, like yellow pages and all.” Taylor answered. “Nobody taught me. Just me and that book. More like a history book plus manual. Some bits I had to work out for myself though, I don't understand Japanese.”

“You just happened to find a book that taught you how to harness cursed energy and how to use your technique?” Haruko, for the first time since Taylor had met her, blinked as if surprised. It quickly faded but it was there. “Well, you are a Zen'in and they love keeping books about themselves.”

“About that, what's it about?” Taylor asked. “They sound important.”

Haruko's shoulders twitched and she laughed. Calming down, she had a look in her eyes. “Important? Girl, you really know nothing.” Taylor frowned but before she could say anything, the older lady continued. “The Zen'in clan is- was one of the big three families in Japan at the height of sorcery. Having influence to move mountains and end entire families if they slighted them.”

“What happened to them?” Taylor tilted her head. She already had a decent idea from what Lung said.

“Many things.” Haruko stared into her tea, gaze hidden yet in her voice something lurked. “Their crown jewel, the combination of three heavenly treasures, remained lost after a battle with the Gojo's family's own divine blessing. A fight that left the landscape of Japan altered forever. Both rival families killed their weapons and were left defenseless for the coming calamity.”

“Leviathan?” Taylor guessed.

Haruko twitched, grip tightening around the tea cup and a crack sounded out in the room. Taylor flinched at the sound, eyes lowering to the cup. The older lady raised her face and a smile was still plastered on the beautiful frame, but it was like a splash of crimson. In a blink, it vanished and she continued as if nothing happened. “No, this was long before powers turned up. Heian era.”

A thousand years old.

“Left without their weapons, they could do nothing but try against the imaginary demon that slaughtered them. But the thing grew bored, as the tale goes, and left this world for the heavens. A demon ascending for nothing but the whims of its own pleasure. Quite a tale, hm?” Haruko briefly finished, gauging Taylor's reaction.

She shrugged. Sounded like any other myth to her, though considering this whole discussion, it likely wasn't a myth. But it was a thousand years ago so surely it didn't amount to anything. Right?

“Hmph,” Haruko sipped her tea and picked up where she left off. “For centuries after, the two families never stopped their rivalry but as if cursed much like the Kamo Clan, the Zen'in never again was blessed like their beloathed rival. Never again did the Ten Shadows grace them to rise up against the Six Eyes and Infinity. Until… until that day.”

Haruko looked away and became silent. As if lost, drowning in waters of the past.

“Are you okay?” Taylor asked, keeping her voice low.

“It is a tale that will have to wait until another day. I have already regaled you enough with fables.” Haruko gestured away with her personal, quiet musing. That kind, yet stern lady returning. “If you truly wish to know more about your ancestors, bring that book with you next time you come. Now, onto more important matters: your training.”

“My training?” Taylor frowned. She didn't need training. Last night ended with Lung being the one scared off and she had tamed four of her shikigami already, all alone.

“You wish to become a hero.” Haruko explained with all the simplicity of a sword. “Yet you barely know the basics of jujutsu. Tell me, how do you generate cursed energy?”

“Pour my emotions into it. The bad ones.” Taylor answered, as if reading off a text book.

Haruko made a sound similar to a red buzzer on a reality TV show. “Wrong. I don’t know how deep your well goes or output, but keep going like that and it will exhaust itself twice as fast. That's what a reckless, suicidal teenager would do.”

Taylor's eye twitched.

“You have much to learn, nameless girl.” Haruko wagged a finger like a teacher to a disobedient student.

“What do you get out of helping me?” Taylor questioned. Here was this lady she had just met a week ago, offering her an offer of a lifetime. Well, not a lifetime but something close. Real training. It was as if Armsmaster had saved her and then made her his apprentice. One could hope. The gift Haruko gave her could easily be excused as returning a favor and it was-

The necklace.

Taylor looked down at her neck and finally noticed the lack of the red and white jewelry. Eyes whipped around, hands patted her pockets, finding nothing. She raised to ask Haruko only to find the lady twirling it around her finger before, in a swift motion, tossed the jewelry at her. To her credit, she caught it without issue. A bead was missing, one of the pearly white ones.

‘Shit, must've broke.’ She sighed and placed it back on her neck. “Thanks.”

“As for your question, think of it as a passing of knowledge.” Haruko said. “The sorcery world is one ill-suited for a girl your age. There are things lurking just out of sight, horrors you and I are uniquely equipped to deal with. A veil, separating the two worlds. But it is a curse, don't think of it as anything but. Curses are our lives.”

Taylor pressed her lips together. She hated not being in the know about things and right now, she knew little to nothing. Training, however, would allow her to be a better hero. A better savior. It would make the unfair, fair.

It was an offer she couldn't deny.

“Fine. You can be my teacher.” Taylor resolved, crossing her arms. “When do we start?”

Haruko's smile tilted into a grin. “Right now.” The lady got up, pushed her chair in neatly, and carried the tea cup to the sink. Speaking as she walked. “To waste time is to waste lives, don't you agree?”

She couldn't argue with that.

An absent look to the clock showed it was nine in the morning.

Taylor almost swore. Her dad. He must be worried sick. She was stopped from panicking by a raised hand from Haruko.

“Don't worry, I took care of your father.” Taylor's eyes darkened at the words. “I called him last night, at your… lack of consciousness and presented him a story that secures your time with me.”

“You know him.”

“Oh, Taylor, I know many things.” Teeth glinted with a steel's edge as Haruko looked back at her from the sink. “Knowledge, after all, is a weapon itself.”

A blink, she spun around. Eagerness shining in those silver eyes.

“Now, your clothes are back in your room, clean – your welcome. Get dressed. I will teach you all you wish to know, even if you regret it.”

Chapter Text

"There are no risks when failure means nothing.”

— 2 —

Taylor had never been trained before, not like this

P.E. at school had been a breeze ever since she started exercising, insults made it something to trudge through. Her dad had once taught her how to throw a punch in a lesson that lasted about two minutes. Summer camp, she could barely remember what they taught her there. Many of her skills were self taught. It was a vastly preferable method in her opinion. Removing all the nasty interactions that could come from being professionally taught.

Now she was regretting having taken that for granted.

Eyes wide, Taylor's head snapped to the side just in time to dodge an anchor that would've popped it like a sledgehammer to a watermelon. Rusted steel groaned and shrieked as it tore through the derelict ship behind her. Not crushed. Not dented. Tore. Strength required to that, even to a rusted falling apart ship, bordered on brute levels.

She wished it was a brute.

A haunting groan drenched her bones in ice. It echoed throughout the ship graveyard, steel grinding against steel. Rust flaking off. Coming from a thing that maybe resembled a human if one squinted and ignored the shrapnel piercing out from a tilted torso. Muscle stretched out from bloated purple skin, encased inside a metal suit that looked as if it was bombarded by waves against a cliff. Bones clacked together and out from an exposed jaw groaned something intelligible.

“Youuuu're gonna need a better excuse than thaaaat.” An arm slithering with pulsing red fleshly strings winded back. Rotten chains dug into the muscle with almost invisible wisps leaking off it. With a motion much like pulling back a ship lever, the waterlogged ghost wrenched its arm back.

Taylor reacted on a screaming gut, the sound of iron squealing behind her in the ship. Her shadow expanded and the wall behind her rented apart. Her back or spine didn't shatter, a good thing. What wasn't good was the sudden crushing weight on every bit of her body. Legs buckled, breath forced itself out from her lungs and refused to enter, lanky arms trembling from a weight that wasn't physically present. Not even cursed energy flowing all through her body was able to ease the burden.

Surprise shook her body and was lost in the shaking already racking it. Everything felt like a truck had just been placed on her shoulders. Thoughts stuttered to a stop as if weighed down by this invisible force. Move, her brain screamed. Move! Move!

The monster threw its head back, jaw unhinging with each crackle. Baritone, drowning in insanity. “Try and takeeee away my joooob now! Bastard. This city needs u-us!”

Taylor paid no attention to the babbling creature. Her knees gave in and met the gravel crusted sand, pants scraping against the sharp bits. Think. What the fuck just happened? She didn't have time to think though! Not enough to plan anything worth a damn. But something stood out, beyond the manic ghastly laughter and shoulder-crushing weight. Like all the times she placed something in her shadow. Not at all the same feeling but one similar enough to spark connections together.

Taylor learned early on that anything she placed inside her ‘shadow’ carried the same weight it did in the real world, but distributed all across the body instead of one localized area, like arms for a metal bat or back for a backpack. It gave her some room to still move roughly at the same efficiency, and retain the same balance. Had the benefit of being invisible too. She used that to her benefit a year ago, placing her dad's old untouched weights inside the shadow and experimenting with them on.

‘Could it- it be I can absorb attacks too?’ Taylor thought, gasping for breath.

Focusing on her shadow, gazing within that endless abyss, she saw something. A hint of rust and seawater. Taylor didn't waste any time. Darkness twisted and shifted, as if coming alive and puked the anchor to the side. Relief washed over her instantly, muscles groaned and lungs sighed. Breath came in unobstructed. Air didn't have a taste to it, but right now she could swear it tasted like heaven.

But now she had a ghost to pay pack, with interest.

Scowling, Taylor shot up and called upon her newly fused shikigami. “Storm chasing wolves!” Lighting flashed underneath cloudless skies and bolted forward. Bone warped into a snarl and a bulging arm swept to the side. At the corner of vision, the anchor snapped to the command of its wielder, dragged by red wisps. She bent herself back and watched it sail past, her wolves merely side-stepping to avoid it, barely appearing visible.

‘So it follows his gestures.’ Taylor observed. ‘Some sort of telekinetic or is it connected?’

“Okay…” She hopped on the shoes of her shoes and burst forward, inhaling and recalling Haruko's words. Red hair flickered in her mind's eyes, anger rose, and blue energy blossomed around a closed fist. It felt just as the same as before and briefly frustration rose in her throat. Azure pulsed, growing, surrounding her arm now. Mid-way, she had to duck when the anchor stopped on a dime and followed an enraged swipe at her wolves trying their best attempt to gnaw an arm off. An annoyance rather than a proper threat, but that was the point to Storm Casing Wolves.

Lightning dashed and in a twirl of movement swept up a cloud. The ‘cursed spirit’ as Haruko called it snarled, letting out curses, the traditional kind, that only a sailor would've known. Not that bad compared to the ones she's heard, but coming from an entity who embodied negativity itself, Taylor was kind of expecting more… eldritch screaming or unknowable languages spewing out that makes her brain bleed.

Gravel in front of her shattered underneath the force of what must've been a thousand plus pounds, brought to destruction by an anchor. A roar echoed between bygone ships, carrying with it a rage that, despite last night's victory over Lung, still sent her stomach into swirls. Taylor skidded and kicked off to the side, recalling Storm Chasing Wolves, their job finished. “Great Serpent.” A whisper. Hands cast another shadow, darkness hissing behind her, coiled to spring.

Behind the shock at seeing this horror, something brewed. Bare hints of a plan. Not anything concrete but just enough to act in favor for-

“Let go of that morality, just for this moment. Save it for the foes who are like you, not this who represents nothing but ruin. Kill it. Don't hesitate, because it won't.”

Taylor swallowed.

It's death.

This wasn’t a villain, someone she can talk to and expect some sort of human decency. No, it wasn't human at all, but carried with it humanity's shadows. Through the haze, a mangled foot fused to work boots stepped out. Behind, metal dragged a dent into the ground itself. Anchors weighed enough to stop ships in their tracks, unfazed by the fierce sea current, yet it was wielded as though all that didn’t apply to this monster. Air gurgled at the presence.

The ship graveyard did not have a friendly atmosphere and her dad had warned her against going near it but even with that, one could appreciate a weird sense of nostalgia for a time long past. Watch waves crash upon sand and be away from the noisy city.

This cursed spirit took away all of that potential warm fuzzy feelings, consumed and spat out as rage at something lost. Desperation.

“Lightning?! As if the sea scares us!”

Taylor narrowed her eyes. Breathing in focus and letting it infuse. If lightning didn't do anything, then she'd let an abyssal predator take this sailor for a ride. “Hey.” She called out, eyebrow cocking even though it couldn't see it. She didn't even know if it could hold a conversation.

As if only just seeing her, the cursed spirit tilted its head to her, growling.

“On your left.”

It launched its anchor in the direction, striking nothing but a rusted ship. Cocky laughter erupted from it, condescending in an animalistic way. A shark grinning at a prey's attempt to distract.

Taylor didn't smile as Great Serpent lunged from shadows to the right, teeth snapping around and into flesh, but her lips did twitch. In a grey-black blur, they crashed into where the curse spirit had launched its anchor. Fury exploded out as a roar cut short by her shikigami slamming it up and down within the ship. A command rang out between them and Great Serpent retreated back into the stygian pool it sprang from.

Not without taking the cursed spirit along for the ride. Both coming back into Taylor's vision

Its mangled arm shot out, broken hand clenching into a fist that made fingers twist around each other, blood splattering out. Chains rattled and dug tighter into choked flesh.

Taylor's heart rose, the same heat she felt just before slamming that bat into Lung's ugly chest.

Like every time before, the anchor flung out from the ship and back to crush her shikigami. Instead, Great Serpent broke apart into liquid darkness, leaving its prey still airborne. Unfortunately for it, the anchor was faster. Like a car crash, Taylor couldn't look away but this time she caused it. Anchor met cursed flesh and cursed flesh lost. The side of its body denting in with a horrible crack and it didn't stop there. Pulverizing everything in its path. Flesh, bone, organs.

If it had organs, that is. She didn't know ghost biology.

Taylor's face scrunched up at the gory sight, purple splatters coating the ground. Even if it was a ghost who had never truly been alive, watching it struggle in two pieces felt wrong. Better to end its suffering fast. She knew enough needless suffering already.

Raising her hands, the image of lightning faded from mind, and sharpened claws took center stage once again. “Divine Dogs.” Shadows burst and her wolves lunged onto the fallen cursed spirit, tearing it to pieces.

At last, the miasma washed away. The air felt comfortable to breathe in again.

Taylor looked up at the quiet sound of glass shattering, shards raining down from the sky and with their fall, revealed the true world outside. Cloudless and the sun hung high above. Just after twelve, she guessed. Haruko had taken her to the very edge of the ship graveyard and after giving a short lesson on what she will be looking for—too short, about two minutes—sent her off to investigate.

Taylor sighed. ‘Couldn't tell me a bit more?’

“Good job.” A voice said from above and her head shot up. Haruko sat on a ship's edge, nodding. She pushed off and fell without so much as a crunch of gravel. “How was it?” It seemed earnest, not poking fun or teasing. No hidden quiz.

Taylor blended a scoff into her words. “Wonderful. I really appreciate you telling me nothing, thank you.”

“The best lessons are learned amongst uncertainty.” Haruko shrugged her shoulders. “You can study all the behaviors of cursed spirits or every move in an enemy's arsenal, but a classroom will never compare to the battlefield. And while those wicked things are not the smartest bunch, they are cornered animals in a sense.”

“And a cornered animal is most dangerous.” Taylor finished with her own shoulders falling, frustration clouded her voice. “But I could've done better if you told me anything at all."

"Will your enemies tell you what they can do? Will they shout who they are and how they can break you?" Haruko asked.

Taylor grunted in reluctant agreement. "Was that everything?"

"No," Haruko shook her head. A flash of steel was all the warning she got. Instinct screamed in different directions, grabbing her to dodge or throwing her hand up to catch it. She let the first take control, jerking to the right and letting the dagger sail past, clattering against a pile of rust.

"What the fuck?!" Taylor half-screamed at the older woman. An ugly sense of betrayal rising in her chest. Did she just try to kill her?

Haruko's mouth hung open an inch, hand still raised. A grimace crossed her face for a brief second. "Huh, I expected you to catch that."

'Why does she sound disappointed?!'

Haruko raised both her hands in surrender, a sheepish smile replacing her easy one. "Sorry, sorry. I forget where I am at times." She took a step forward and Taylor took one back in return. "That weapon, may I go get it?"

"So you can throw it at me again?"

"It is a gift, like training wheels."

"Sounds childish."

"You are a child."

Taylor scowled behind her mask but withdrew it by sighing. "I'll get it." She said, turning around and walking towards the fallen dagger. Leather wound tightly around aged wood. It glinted underneath the blinding sun, polished to a sharp gleam, far more deadly than anything she had picked up before. Simple and effective, also large. She bounced it slightly in her hand, getting a feel for the weight. 'Looks more like a machete than a knife.' Then again, the only knives she knew were kitchen or in one occasion at school, a butterfly knife.

Taylor half-expected Haruko to be holding another blade when she turned around. Instead, the woman hadn't moved an inch. The ugly feeling faded but still lingered. A part of her knew it wouldn't have killed her, that if she could take a wall shattering punch – twice – to the chest, a simple knife wouldn't leave a scratch. That still didn't ease the bitterness.

But, a look back down at the blade, it didn't feel like any knife she held before. Gloom flowed between steel lines, intent gliding on the tip, ice collecting in the handle. Like the emotions she poured into her mask. Negativity covered her face in the form of a mask, an ever-present reminder. At times, it felt tar-like, as if stuck.

"Is this a…" Taylor paused, lips pursed in thought. Memories of the book and what she learnt flashed by until landing on one. "A cursed tool?"

"A disposal one." Haruko nodded. "Not useless but not anymore special than a exceptionally sharpened blade. What it does excel at is hurting cursed spirits."

"So it does more damage to them?" Taylor asked, walking back.

"No, merely capable of hurting them."

"You mean, normal things can't hurt them?" Taylor questioned. Nothing in the book had mentioned that, but maybe amongst those yellowed pages it did and she never got to it. It was a big book, bigger than a dictionary or the family photobook. Haruko's words earlier this morning echoed. At last, the book wouldn't be such a hassle to translate.

"Strike a weak curse with a car and it will be pulverized. Hit a stronger one and the car will be demolished instead. Both times, the spirit will still lurk." Haruko explained, in her long way. "The weakling will reform eventually, whilst the stronger one flicks away the car. Exorcising is the only way to end a curse permanently."

"So they really are like ghosts." Taylor commented. "Also I thought exorcisms were more… vocal."

"Were its roars not enough for you?" Haruko teased.

"No, I'm pretty sure they'll haunt my dreams for the next nights." Taylor's deadpan was visible past her mask. Taking the opportunity to ask more questions, she continued. "Does the PRT know about these spirits? Feels hard to miss an angry anchor throwing sailor ghost."

"Largely, they remain unaware." Haruko gestured to the distant and hazy PRT base out in the bay. "Perhaps those in power or unfortunate few cursed with sorcery know but think on the implications and why they do not reveal such knowledge to the masses."

Why? If they knew then surely they had a duty to alert the public to the threats lurking behind every shadow, right?

Yet, the more she thought, the less of a good idea it seemed. These things were born from negativity, passively. Monstrous manifestations that were nothing but evil incarnate. Things that wouldn't be out of place in the Slaughterhouse Nine. Add on the fact they could only be killed permanently by energy that was quite literally magical in nature and only usable for the select few.

Yeah.

"But, shouldn't these things be more common? The Bay isn't exactly a utopia of possibility." Taylor remarked, half questioned.

"Over seven-hundred thousand people go missing in the US each year." Haruko began. "Nobody cares to look for them. Some are swept up by villains, some slaughtered, and quite a few are never found again, in one piece. It is oh so easy to blame a disembowel torso, a half-eaten head, and strange piles of fingers on the work of a demented parahuman."

She leaned forward.

"The world is cruel, Taylor, and there are monsters out there who relish in that, but even inhumanity can be severed."

— 2 —

Lead scraped against paper, held by a hand moving on autopilot.

"I thought you said classrooms are useless." Taylor grumbled, eyes flickering back and forth from Haruko's set up white board. Her foot tapping impatiently underneath the table. She became a hero to avoid school, now she was stuck in one regardless.

"Hm? You want another quiz?"

"No, just talking to myself. For memory, y'know." Taylor smiled, taut.

The marker stopped mid circle and Haruko looked back. She eyed Taylor, her paper and words. Behind on the whiteboard, written in black, was 'Barriers'. An expansive diagram drawn to connect all the types. Curtains, she had witnessed firsthand, and apparently were commonplace amongst sorcerers. A veil between worlds, propped up by those who wished to conduct business hidden from prying eyes and to force out cursed spirits for battle. An upgraded version of Simple Barrier.

"Okay, let's move onto something different." Taylor perked up at the change. Hopeful for anything new that wasn't writing endlessly. "What makes a hero?"

Taylor rose an eyebrow. A question she didn't expect. What made a hero?

Well, it was simple.

"Responsibility." She answered. "To do good with what you have. If you can help, you have a responsibility to do it." Despite the hopeful words, bitterness lingered on her tongue. Not at herself but others who had fallen into apathy. "You don't take the easy way if the hard way means saving someone."

Haruko stared. Didn't smile or shake her head. Simply looked at her. It moved on, the teacher coming back. "Mindset, right? Heroes are defined as much by their thoughts as they are their actions. Mentality drives us and actions reveal that. Sorcerers, share that, but it is not responsibility that drives us."

"What is, then?" Taylor asked. Another question unspoken. What drove Haruko?

The lady smiled and turned around, marker finishing the circle. "Now onto what all sorcerers are born with. The mindscape that carries who we truly are-"

Taylor rolled her eyes, half-listening, and picked back up pencil.

— 2 —

With the weight of a cursed blade in her shadow, Taylor stepped inside her home. Soreness burdened her limbs but it wasn’t anything she hadn't experienced and endured before. Closing the door, she kicked off shoes and started up the stairs before pausing. What kind of daughter was she? Going up to her room, after nearly dying and worrying her dad sick. Not even a 'hi' or anything.

Heading back down, she turned and froze mid-step. Her dad standing right there.

"Hi." She began, lamely.

"Hi." He said back. Lines of overtime and stress underneath his eyes but even so, his smile still reached them, for her. Something warm and fuzzy spread across her chest. Rinsing away all the negativity she had been drenched in recent days. "How was your day?"

"Good." She got nearly killed twice in a row, by the strongest villain in the bay and a ghost. Oddly, it didn't feel like a lie. "Sorry about not telling you last night. Got invited to a friend's house and I lost track of time and it got late so I couldn't walk back and-" Taylor rambled off the story told by Haruko, not hiding anything in her tone she didn't need too. Each lie tasted horrible but he was better off not knowing. It would've been something if his daughter was just a parahuman but now she was involved with a history longer than the bays and horrors hidden from the public's eye.

It would just put him in danger, and the very thought of that stopped her heart.

Her dad cut her short with a tired laugh, waving his hand. "It's fine, Taylor, really. I'm just glad you were with a friend. Good call, staying there after it got dark, especially with that whole mess at the docks." He stopped, eyes glancing at something in the room, then back to her, as if he wanted to say more on the topic but decided against it. "Made you some chicken last night, put it in the fridge so you can just warm it up."

That just made her feel worse.

"Thanks." Taylor nodded, yawning in sync with Danny. She giggled after it ended. "You should sleep more."

He lifted his glasses with his fingers and rubbed them on his eyes, rolling them as he stopped. "No need to tell your old man that. Kurt gives me enough of that as it is."

"Well, have you considered he's maybe right?"

"Once in a while." He said with dry amusement. He looked down at her neck and raised an eyebrow. "That's new."

Oh, the necklace. "Yeah. It's a gift."

"Looks nice." He complimented, any more words swallowed by another yawn he tried to fight down to no avail. He briefly turned to the kitchen to stare longingly at something, likely the broken coffee machine. Blinking three times in a row, hand scratching his uncombed hair. "I'm going for a grocery run, things are looking bleak back there. Want anything in specific?"

Taylor shook her head. Dead tired and he wanted to go to the store alone. She sure had a stubborn dad. "I'll go. Gimme a second."

"Two minutes, got it." He joked.

Even in a day full of discoveries, awe-inducing and terrible, in the wake of pride, and secrets she'll never tell, spending time with her dad remained amongst the few things she truly looked forward too.