Phoenix
Book One: Ashes

Bracing herself, she cupped her hands under the faucet, splashing a bit of water onto her face. She kept her palms pressed to her mouth, trying to stifle the involuntary yelp of pain that she knew was coming. She shuddered tensely and gritted her teeth as the scalding liquid burned its way down her neck, finally and mercifully being caught in the collar of her red silk Chinese shirt. To anyone else, the water beginning to fill the steel sink would have been tepid at best – but not to her. Not anymore. Not since…

She shook her head, trying to evict the thought before it finished forming. No use going down that rabbit hole again. She looked in the mirror, brushing a few stray leaves from the flame-red braid that swayed over her right shoulder. That’s as good as it’s gonna get, she thought with a sigh, picking up a beige camping backpack that was way too big for her slender frame and mounting it on her shoulders. Unlocking the restroom door, she pushed her way out into the crowd -- people hustling and bustling to reach their platforms in time to catch the trains to work. The ground rumbled a bit as a silver passenger train rocketed into position and slowed to a stop, its doors opening with a loud hiss.

“Chuo District, boarding now on platform eight,” came a robotic-sounding feminine voice from the tinny speakers overhead. Rather than heading for a train, however, she made for the concrete stairway and ascended into the city above.

Up here, too, people darted every which way, trying to settle into their shops and offices in time to start the day. She noticed a woman in a green business suit and heels, hurriedly trying to finish a pack of vending machine rice balls on a bench near the sidewalk. Her gray leather briefcase was pinned against her body with her left elbow. Like everyone else on the street, she looked absolutely frantic with stress. She wondered if the lady with the rice balls knew how much worse it would be if she had nowhere to go at all. Adjusting the weight of her backpack on her shoulders, she looked for the least crowded street and started walking.

Passing an okonomiyaki cart, she managed the beginnings of a smile, remembering Ukyo and how supportive she had been about this, even though she thought it was a stupid idea. She was right, too. Ukyo had even managed to slip a little money into her backpack unnoticed, after she’d refused to accept it outright. The nascent smile receded as she remembered that the money was almost gone. She needed a plan. Needed one before she left, really, but too late to do anything about that now.

Something had to give, and fast.