Through the haze of gray, a lone young woman sailed across the roofs and edges of rail guards, prancing with abnormal agility. In this height where the ground was as sparsely visible as the sky above, any ordinary person would have the jitters set in, while some of the children of the Slum below might feel sweat greasing their palms, but the red-haired person had a relaxed pace instead.

Leaping through the late afternoon wasn’t anything new. In fact, it was a chore that arose a little too often these days. In a sense, she knew it’d have to be pushed to her inevitably; some sense of responsibility was a part of growth, as someone at home would often say.

Well, rather than in “some sense,” she bore the brunt of it now.

The route she took was the usual, where she navigated through a channel of ruined buildings, jumping past rows of window sills, climbing beyond the walls’ cracks with ease, even when a veil of fog eluded her sights. Judging from the track she had memorized, it wouldn’t be long before she would reach her destination. Just a few more hops and turns to the left and she’d soon have her home within reach—

Before she would swoop back to one of the more familiar structures higher up, her ears were perked. Was that a tap? No, taps of feet? This being the area that it was, danger was but a perpetual resident, but this close? A balcony with its rail guard half-torn came into view as her eyes befell a corner on the right; darkness prevailed in the room beyond its opening.

She squinted her eyes, for she felt it—a gaze. Who was it? Whether they could actually see her from their shadowed spot was another question altogether, but if it was a human—they weren’t known for amazing vision to begin with; not the kind of sensibilities she was used to, anyways.

Standing her ground, she stared back at the dark. Not like there was much point in hiding now.

A spy? An assassin? Hostile? No… if that was the case they wouldn’t alert themselves to me. Why me, though? She gasped! A fan of my works perhaps? Wait no, I have to stay focused! First, confront and confirm…

With another hop, she landed on the edge of her structure—just by the rail guards—keeping a barely-safe distance from the balcony on the other end. The stranger’s gaze felt unmoving, unblinking.

“Hello there,” she called out, “may I ask what brings you to this particular side of the Slum?”

She bowed her head slightly like a Japanese would.

There was a muffled whimper of sorts. Was her fan just intimidated by her forwardness?

Just as she was about to add more words to her query, a blitzing red came flying from the shades! She angled her arm back and it missed her flank. Or rather, one of the bags she held? What was that?

She saw it retracting into the obfuscated air. A mechanical hand with a spring?

“Shit!”

A young voice was heard.

“Oh no, it didn’t work!”

Another deeper—but still young—tone sounded.

“Run!”

A pair of figures rushed deeper into the adjacent building, having shouted in unison.

Hm… Not a fan sadly, and they’re aiming for our supplies? She blinked. Perhaps some common thieves, or maybe not…

“Hehe…” Her cheeks were caressed with red locks of hair waving and twirling; she grinned ear to ear, savoring what she’d heard. “…Wait! Don’t run, I thought we were just playing!”

Her sclera were blackened despite these words, and before long, her usual course was forgone as she had leapt into the building of the runaways.

It wasn’t too hazy inside, but the interiors were weathered, as evidenced from the numerous fissures and holes torn along the walls, making it more of a maze for her to track through. This was nothing compared to her home, but it didn’t mean the apparent children weren’t getting away. The taps of their feet were continually heard, growing distant to her right. The only thing she’d glimpsed from a corner was a reddish head? What was that, a helmet, or just hair?

Her eyes had reverted to white, leaving her pupils red; she found herself alone all over again. Like a scarecrow, she spent a moment or two just standing idly.

They were quick on their feet.

“Ah… Perhaps it isn’t the time of harvest.” She smirked. No problem, there’s always next time!

Though they were gone, she made a mental note; should they ever cross paths again, they’d have her coming. A red head, a mechanical hand with a spring, and the voices. Oh, their beautiful young voices! All this information would be engraved in her mind, but for now, she had to hurry back to her task at hand.

Right, the others must be starving already! She turned away. I should go home.

Taking off the tarnished balcony, she was back on her airy journey. Before long, a greater tower sitting amidst these pitiful shells of human dwelling revealed itself and as her figure flew with one last leap, a charm engraved on her black choker radiated a dim green glow. Then, she blurred and vanished from rapid advancement, swallowed in one of its shadowy maws.

Landing on a hallway, she proceeded where no light had awaited. Being so high up from the earth, the clouds had formed a natural barrier, blanketing the broken walls of her entryway. Though they had robbed her view of the world outside, it always felt as if they had her back, and would continue to do so for as long as she’d live here; like being shrouded by a massive motherly embrace. Would that really be “motherly” though? She couldn’t tell, honestly.

“You’re late!” a familiar voice called out. “Really late!”

A small lamp of red was lit by the doors ahead, where a maid in blue stood with her balled hands planted on her hips.

“A-Ahaha… sorry!” The young woman with the bag lowered her head, shying away from meeting her gaze. “There were strangers near here and I went to chase them out, just in case they’d pose a threat to us.”

She presented her bags to the blonde with a bow. “They tried to snatch these supplies off me, but thankfully that didn’t happen. S-So um… can you please spare me, Queller-san?”

She’d been carrying these supplies all over the city, the last thing she needed was getting another scolding from Queller.

“Strangers? …Intruders?” The maid’s tone was of anger no longer. “What were they like?”

“I didn’t get a good look at them… but there were two, very young folks. One had a deeper voice than the other, and um… one of their heads was red; not sure if it’s from hair or something.” One of her own red locks inched up to the side of her view, as if to present an example. “They tried to snatch the bags I was carrying using a mechanical hand with a spring to extend its range, like this!”

She stretched her arms apart and made a whooshing sound, her same lock of hair uncoiling further than her fingertips. “Um,” her expression scrunched, hair retracting, “this won’t be a big problem, right?”

“Guh,” Queller’s frown bore deeper before her jaw fell through, “those slum rats at it again! Grrrr, if they’d have stolen our groceries again… Do not go after them willy-nilly, they are bad for our stomachs!”

“Hah. Just some slum rats, huh? Phew! I was worried they were spies or something. So, what should I do if I run into them again? Should I just evade them?” Ah, but those sweet voices…

“Better to not deal with those lot; humans could never be a threat, much less come past our barrier.” The blonde had then received the two grocery bags from the redhead. “Either way, cleaning’s been done so it’s time to prepare for dinner.” Queller turned to step away but craned her neck back at her. “Oh and Saya-chan? Good job. As promised, you’ll get your extra portion. Look forward to it!”

“Hmm?” Saya quirked her head curtly, when images of the young boys had evaporated. “Oh.” She then threw her arms to the air. “Yay! More food!”

Her mind’s eye wandered, envisioning the savory dinner she’d be feasting on tonight, instead of the flesh she had pursued momentarily. Cheeks clasped, she rubbed them gently. “Hum, hum…!”

“Don’t just stand there,” Queller was heard from ahead, “bring the lamp with you!”

“Hu—eh?! Oh yeah…” Saya shook her head, grabbing the small red lamp from the desk beside a set of double doors, setting astride to follow the maid. “Sorry!”

Going further, the lamp’s lume was faint but in this darkness, it would probably be enough for most ordinary folks to see. That said, if the “slum rats” were to be asked, they’d likely claim the two were far from normal. However, this ghostly red gleam had its own purpose here in their lair.

“Our Ojou-sama will want to have her portion delivered soon…” the maid murmured to herself. “You would think after all these years, she would finally deign to come off her reclusive activities, and sit down to dine with us.” She glanced at her companion walking alongside her. “You hadn’t even got to meet her.”

“Yeah… I’ve only heard about her from the others, but I haven’t been graced to see her with my own eyes.” Saya picked her pace up until she strode by the maid’s side. “Why does she refuse to eat with us, anyway? Is she just super busy?”

“…Something like that? She also just likes to sleep, like, a lot, I feel.” Queller shrugged. “I remember a time when we couldn’t afford any blood pack for her and she just, uhm, ‘slept it off’ for days, I was told? Raver-kun and a few others were around while I was camping out at Martin Hospital.”

“Woah, so she really is a sleepy head! But to be able to stave off hunger by just sleeping is impressive! Saya nodded repeatedly. “Now I grow even more curious! Say, Queller-san, do you have any photo or picture of Ojou-sama?”

“Hm? Hmm.” The maid ceased her pace, staring blankly into the shadows ahead. “No; no, we don’t. It just never occurred to us, has it?” She resumed stepping along the corridor. “Most of us aren’t really good with tech here—now that I think about it—and those who are proficient don’t seem to care about things like taking pictures.”

“That’s true.” Saya giggled. “The only tech I know how to operate is my own Secretary II, but having a picture would allow us to capture a memory about a person or a place.” She placed a hand over her puffed chest. “Besides… we don’t need tech to get a picture—we’ve already got the best artist right here! I’ll paint a portrait for anyone living here for free, if I get their permission, because we are family.” She smiled brightly. “Hm hm!”

Girl brings up tech but puts it down? “I would have to get an appraisal of someone who understands art like yours. The one I know doesn’t live here anymore… If Ojou-sama is offended by the portrait for any reason.” The blonde’s head slanted low. “She may not even join us anymore…” And what if she kicks Saya-chan out? Where’d she go…?

“I do not wish for that, I haven’t even seen her yet!” Saya shook her head. “If you think my art must be appraised first for safety, then I do not mind. Hopefully you’ll find the right person who does understand art.”

“Yeah. Hm, but was it not Raver-kun who taught you how to use that Secretary II, back when you first came in? I’m not really good with things like that…”

“Hm? Why yes. It was Raver-san who helped me. Thanks to him, I’m able to keep up with the trends and fashion of the outsiders.” Saya looked down at her dull red dress. “That’s how I bought this as well.”

“Ah, right. You did buy that online…” I wonder if Ojou-sama prefers things like pockeTRONs too? Has she ever thought about pictures before? Considering… “You know what,” Queller turned to her, “it’s still a good idea, Saya-chan. I don’t know about art but when she finally comes down some day, we should take one—a commemorative picture!”

“Oho! A commemorative picture, that’s a great idea! We can all get immortalized in it, and have it hung somewhere everyone can easily see. What do you think, Queller-san? Do you think that idea could somehow persuade Ojou-sama to come join us soon?”

The maid in blue hummed. “I don’t know. For one who cares so little about socializing, a picture may not strike as something enticing… but we won’t know until I try, yes? Since I am the only one allowed to approach her room and deliver dinner, I may as well persuade her.”

“Yep, no harm in trying!”

They took a left turn, and the corridor here offered several doors leading to various rooms. Saya knew her own to be accessible via one of these doors, but the pair had continued right into the kitchen at the very end of the passage, where Queller had stuffed some of the bags’ contents into the refrigerator.

The red-haired one placed the lamp on a counter, seeing the maid preparing some ingredients. Electricity was a luxury they couldn’t afford to waste here, so the bulb was practically banned; unique people like themselves found too much light to be more of a hindrance than a preference, anyway.

An AR frame was turned up from the blue gem of Queller’s ribbon adorning her heart, revealing a cooking article, which Saya couldn’t see.

“Alright, it’s gonna be… green tea beef yakitori with seasoned rice! Requested by Raver-kun. Guess you’ll have extra rice tonight.” Queller had rolled her sleeves up to her elbows. “It says it’ll take like five and a half hours to prepare though… Just call everyone over when that time comes. You’re free to go!”

“Oho, that sounds yummy! Extra rice is also good for a growing person like me. Though… five and a half hours? That’s so long! Can I help you with preparations? I know I can do some simple stuff like chopping up ingredients.”

“Ah, sure. Can you cut the ginger, coriander and lemongrass for me? Unfortunately, a huge part of the prep here is just the four hours of marination… It cannot be helped as the supplies came in just now.”

“Ahaha… that I can do. If I knew the preparation would’ve needed so much time, I would have doubled my pace.” Saya opened one of the grocery bags and picked the ingredients out. “Oh yeah, what about Raver-san and the others? Are they in their rooms?”

“Let’s see…” Queller had gathered some soy sauce, chili oil sauce, and green tea, “Raver-kun doesn’t like to go out, so he’s probably here somewhere; Yamajiji-san wanders to who knows where in this Tower, so no idea; Guren-kun and Kageya-san are training; Jubo-chan is still out working I think; Sayuri-chan was asleep last I checked; and others, I don’t know but they are around. All are doing their own things I guess—the usual.”

“I see. That’s great then, gathering the rest together for dinner shouldn’t be a problem if they’re still here in this Tower.” The young woman moved the ingredients into the kitchen sink and washed them clean. “Heh, we really don’t go outside a lot, do we? Unless we need a supply run.”

“Mnm, yeah…” The green-eyed maid had fetched beef from the grocery bags, “except a few like Enma-chan—who I believe could perhaps appraise your art?—as she’d left ten years ago. A shame really, she wasn’t just a lively one, but a good friend of Ojou-sama too; she used to even guard the Tower with us.”

“Ah!” It sounded familiar to Saya. “So that’s her name!” Once she had washed the ingredients, she set them aside to dry. “But ten years ago? That’s around the time I came to this place, right? Such a shame I hadn’t met her then. Not to mention she sounds like a nice person… Where did she go, anyways? Was there a reason as to why she left?”

“She’s got something of a public life, so maybe she felt like she didn’t belong here anymore?” And with blood like hers on top of that… Queller felt her shoulders slack. “No one really knows the full story except Ojou-sama though. We just assumed they had an argument.”

“Hm, that’s good for her I suppose. She’s probably chasing her own dreams… Still, it’s sad she’s not living with us anymore.” Saya cast her gaze down. “I did think of paying her a visit—and want to meet her more now that I know she’s an artist—but if she’s on bad terms with us, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Er, not exactly an artist per se.” The maid had stuffed the beef with the variety of sauces she’d mixed in a bowl. “I remembered how she was… really culturally aware? And that she understood Ojou-sama’s tastes and preferences. If I had to put it, Enma-chan was treated almost like an equal by Ojou-sama herself.”

“Nah, she’s not on bad terms with us,” a certain boy strode into the room, opening the refrigerator, “Enma-tan’s just too busy to play around. She never quite belonged here since it wasn’t like she had no other places to be in, really.”

Clad in a black parka, with cloudy tattoos carved across the side of his neck, he was a tad taller than Saya. Streaks of gray highlighted locks traced threads throughout his obsidian mane.

He picked out a pack of blood, drinking deeply from it.

“Guren-kun!” From the corner of her eyes, the blue maid had caught a glimpse of his entry. “Done with the spars for the day?”

“Nah.” He lowered the pack, brashly wiping his lips with the back of his hand. “Kageya-sensei wanted to stream something so we’re on a break for a few.”

“Oh hello there, Guren-kun.” Saya waved at him, before preparing the cutting board on the kitchen counter. “And that sounds pretty rough on her. Hmm, maybe one day I’ll get to meet her.”

Wonder how that’s gonna go? Guren wondered idly, glancing at the red-haired young woman’s back. Will Enma-tan even have time…?

‘Sounds pretty rough,’ huh? Queller’s gaze faltered down to the bowl, her fingertips meandering idly on its sides. Well now, I wonder which of us truly has it bad—in this stupid megaplex?

“…” Seconds passed as her knife did its work on the board before Saya blinked, stopped, and turned. “Um, did I say something bad?”

“Nah.” He shook his head. “Was just thinking how hard it’d be. Wanted to meet her myself, honestly.”

“Come on, I need these chopped!” The maid just went over to her with a second cutting board in hand. She took the washed ginger over it, a knife grazing down. “The other Ayakashi are going to be wide awake, and hungry, by the time this is done.”

“Oh! Yeah-yeah! Sorry!” Saya set over the coriander she’d chopped and took the lemongrass next, slicing it down with her knife. “I’m already starving myself! Can’t imagine how worse it’ll be by the time this is finished.”

“And don’t go out eating kids now. Tower’s got enough trouble as it is!”

Guren grimaced at these words and just excused himself from the place.

“I’m tryinggg! But I can’t help myself after seeing one, it’s like my mind and body sorta goes off on autopilot. It’s not my fault they taste so sweet!” Saya’s chopping had practically accelerated, locks of hair squirming like snakes, visage crimped. “Hmph, maybe I should seek help to hold it in.”

Finished with the lemongrass, she set it aside with the coriander and handed it to the maid. “Here it is! All done!”

“Thanks for the help.” Queller made a small smile. “You can leave the rest to me!”

“No problem! I’m going to head out now, see you at dinner.”

At this time, Guren was out in the corridor, trawling along with a lazy gait, having watched the red-dressed Saya help Queller. Though something the former said on his way out was caught in his mind. “Seek help, huh? Wonder if there’s some kinda Ayakalogist or something for counseling? Can anyone even counsel us?”

“Hmm, I’d like to think there should be at least one person who can do that… the only problem is how to find them. Maybe we can find some leads through the web? But, scammers are a huge problem as well.”

“Huh?” Almost scared me there!

He hadn’t even realized when she got close to him.

Saya pulled out her Secretary II, a relatively small and sleek device, and searched for items related to Ayakashi’s counseling. “What about you, Guren-kun? Do you have a specific problem you’d like to talk to an expert about?”

“…I guess not? Not much to talk about when you’re all about fighting from top to bottom, right?”

She stopped browsing and looked back at him. “What do you mean by ‘fighting from top to bottom?’”

“What do you mean ‘what do you mean?’” He ceased likewise. “I love fighting—perfecting my swordplay is everything I care about—that’s all there is to it, Saya-san.”

“Ah sorry-sorry, my head is not in the right place.” The young woman tapped her temple lightly. “Well, I do understand how hard the road to perfection is. By the way, do you have a rival or someone you’d look up to? Not counting Kageya-san of course.”

“Uhhhh, Kabehime-sama?” Guren blinked. “But I don’t really know her; I was just told she’s worth looking up to.” He hummed, stepping along the corridor aimlessly. “There’s Raver-senpai, actually. But probably no rival I can think of. Haven’t really got to fight with most people here.” If only a lot of the guys here wouldn’t be so scared shitless at the thought of having a duel…

“Hmm… come to think of it. I’ve never seen any of you fight before. The rush of inspiration can keep me inside my own room for months without realizing it!” Despite knowing how he was practically roaming, she kept up with him anyway. “But, judging on how you’re training almost every day, I bet you’re strong already. Have you thought about participating in a fighting tournament outside?”

“Huh? A tournament? No, not really. I haven’t heard of any; I’d go for anything where I could show off my skills, I guess. When I think about it, fighting was all I knew for as long as I was alive… I don’t think I’ve seen you get in the field either, not even a spar.”

“Ahaha…” Saya scratched the side of her head. “Well, I had some basic combat training when I first came to this place, but I thought of it as a bit of a drag. I prefer to draw on paper than swinging a weapon around. Oh, and not to mention I have a condition where I tend to pass out after feeling overwhelmed!”

He looked at her like she said the sky was red or something absurd like that.

She giggled. “That’s another plus as to why I think I’m not cut out for that.” She shrugged. “But if I found out about a fighting competition next time, I’ll let you know for sure. If you can win something out there, I’m sure the others would be proud as well!”

“…What weakling talk is this? And you’re a member of this Tara Clan no less! That’s it, we need to spar, and I need to know whether you’re making excuses or you’re actually an Ayakashi molded in the form of chicken.”

“A-Awawawawawawa!” Saya jumped back, arms crossed in an “X” firmly. “What?! B-B-But I haven’t sparred in years! What if I slip and fall on my bum?!”

“Then that’d mean you really are chicken! Now come on, we’re getting this show on the road!”

She saw Guren’s eyes and its deadset pupils. Another physical activity? Today?! Her muscles twitched beneath her skin, hair coiling. She clutched her cheeks at the mere thought of entering the sparring ring. Crap…! He’s serious. If this is the case, then there’s only one thing I can do…

“Waaaaaaaaaa! Queller-san! Help!” Saya turned on her tail and twisted her ankle. “Guren-kun is forcing me to fight him, WAAAA!”

“Oh no you don’t.” She was caught by the collar of her black jacket, Guren dragging her away. “We’re gonna do this, and prove to Queller-san that you’re a strong and capable member of this clan!”

“Noooooooo!”

As much as she struggled—it didn’t make a difference against the boy’s grip.

The blonde maid meanwhile listened to the noises from the corridor, sighing as she had closed the refrigerator.

At least now I can work in peace and quiet.