42
Saturday morning dawned bright and clear and cold, but between a space heater and an oversized wolf, spending nights at the Pawprint Shrine hadn't been at all bad so far. Hard, in some ways-- her own house and her own bed had provided a sense of security Taylor hadn't truly realized before now. And the days held their own challenges, since more than a few reporters and gawkers had stopped by the Shrine looking for her, as word of the Merchants' attack spread. Sunny seemed more than up to the task of keeping people on their best behavior, though. Might have had something to do with the cellphone videos of her dragging Skidmark out of town that were all over now.
The PRT had picked him up later that same day, still on the road, and the Protectorate had clashed with the Merchants' capes and ground forces twice since. Taylor had started the habit of giving her dad a call in the evenings, just to check in, so they'd each know the other was safe. Talk about their days a little, that sort of thing. It was still pretty awkward, to be sure, but it gave Taylor a hopeful feeling. And a guilty feeling, a little. Staying at the Shrine and calling Dad at work felt like she'd gone out and gotten an apartment, and now that they were both out of the house… well, the strained silence and sad memories weren't as tied to their current surroundings. Like they were now moving forward, instead of trying to stay in moments that had already gone.
All in all, despite the hectic goings-on with the rest of the city and even school (Taylor did not appreciate all the looks she was getting these days-- at least the Asian kids were quick to close ranks around her when needed), and even with how much there was to do with the Shrine, it remained an island of calm in a life that was rapidly picking up the pace. So it was probably a karmic balance of some sort that a new crop of masked visitors should arrive.
"Hallooooo, Brushstroke!" Taylor heard a cheery voice call from near the torii, and she abandoned her sweeping of the last of the fallen leaves off the cobblestone path to follow the stones to the source of the voice. Grouped together near the entrance of the Shrine was an addition to Taylor's list of Strange Things Capes Do, because of the three teens only the big guy in motorcycle leathers was even remotely dressed for this weather. Of the others, one was either an effeminate boy or a very flat-chested girl in a Renaissance floofy shirt, and the other was a blonde girl in a near-skintight lavender bodysuit. In November.
"Good morning! Welcome to Pawprint Shrine. I am called Brushstroke, yes, though I tend to prefer either Taylor or Miko. Is there something I can help you with?"
"Giving out your name just like that, huh?" The blonde asked, stepping forward as the apparent spokesperson of the group. "I'd think that'd be a habit you would have dropped by now."
"I don't believe I'll be dropping my name, no. Though this would be a good time to namedrop yours, if you prefer." Making a reference to the Merchants attack right off the bat? Not giving Taylor a very good feeling. Sunny wasn't far away, though, and from the heavy pawpads she heard off near the haiden, Taylor suspected the wolf had overheard.
"Smooth! I'm Tattletale, and with me are Grue and Regent, of the Undersiders. Small-time villains, though with the recent atmosphere small-time might be the only time." Cheerful tone and joking aside, the blonde parahuman had a laser-focused look in her eyes. Still a few decades too untrained to measure up to Baachan. Taylor just smiled.
"Pleased to meet you, Undersiders. As I said, welcome to Pawprint Shrine. Is there something I can assist you with?"
"This all there is?" The floofy-shirted young man (aha, it was a he!) turned his masked face to make a show of looking around, blithely ignoring the irritated hiss from Grue. "I'd expected at least an open bar."
"At present, yes, though I will try to file for a liquor license once I have the hot spring up and running."
"Haha, wow, you're… actually serious. Huh." Tattletale tilted her head a bit, watching Taylor. "Anyway, it's more that we're here to help you, since you haven't gotten a mailbox out here yet. Might want to get on that, if you want to run a business. Not everything's done on email…"
Tattletale trailed off, as Sunny padded up to sit next to Taylor. Taylor gave her a quick rub of the ears as thanks for the solidarity. "Should I assume you're here with a message, then?"
"That's right," Grue nodded, and stepped forward. From somewhere in the smoky recesses of his jacket, he pulled out a notecard and held it out. Taylor took a step forward to accept it. "There's a meeting happening soon, and it concerns you, so you should definitely show up. Sorry we couldn't warn you ahead of time, we just heard of it ourselves."
"Some warning is better than none, thank you. Ah… who is the meeting with?" Taylor eyed the card. What was 'Somer's Rock?'
"City's villains, mostly, though there's a few neutral parties too. Faultline will probably show, for instance."
"Um… okay. I'd protest but meeting with villains is something I just kinda-- three hours?!" Taylor gripped the invitation a bit harder. It said to be at Somer's Rock by noon, and it was just past nine now. She couldn't help the accusatory glare when she raised her head again to look at Grue. The cape just shrugged, unfazed. She heard Regent start laughing, like an asshole.
"These things usually have more notice. Like I said, we just found out too."
"Alright, well-- I'll take any amount of notice, I suppose. Though… can I ask a question?" Grue nodded, his faceless helmet still seeping that black smoke. It was kind of eerie. "If the Undersiders are 'small-time,' as you say, then why are you inviting me? Given my location, I'd think grabbing any member of the ABB and asking them to pass it along would work just as well."
Grue hesitated, the slight motion of his faceplate making Taylor think he was glancing over at Tattletale. "The Undersiders are like Faultline, in a way, since we're open to taking on jobs for pay. We got paid to run an errand, that's all."
"So who hired you?"
"Confidential." Unless there was a lawyer-cape or something similar around, that meant he didn't want to say. She certainly wasn't going to force him, so Taylor nodded her acceptance. Grue nodded back. "Somer's Rock might not look like much, but this is a formal kind of thing. You're gonna want to get a bit more dressed up, if you understand. Anyway-- Tattletale, let's go! ...Tattletale?"
The blonde girl was still staring at Sunny, who was staring back with a particularly smug expression on her canine face. Tattletale blinked when her name was called, looking over at Grue almost on autopilot. She glanced back at Sunny once, then turned to face Grue again, eyes wide and with one finger pointed accusingly at Sunny. "Dog!"
Taylor felt more than saw Grue's attention come back to her. "Sunny has that effect on people. She'll be fine, don't worry about it."
The Undersiders seemed quite keen on leaving as quickly as possible after that, which suited Taylor just fine. Formal attire and only… she ran to the office and checked the clock. Formal attire, and only two hours, forty-five minutes to achieve it? Taylor was very, very tempted to forgive Oni Lee in light of this. Taylor undid the snaps on a small chest sitting on the floor behind her desk, while Sunny--now returning to normal levels of smug--watched over her shoulder. For as well-drilled in formalities as she'd become in a short period of time under the Baachan Collective's guidance, being able to dress herself had unfortunately fallen by the wayside, and there was simply no way she was getting into her kimono properly without help.
* * *
Taylor slid off of Sunny's back a good twenty minutes or so later, once the wolf slowed to a stop in front of the Suzuki apartment. She had the kimono (carefully folded!) stuffed in her book bag. Yuuta answered the door after her second round of knocks, and the teen's eyes bugged a little. "Uh-- Miko? What are you… doing here?"
"Sorry, Yuuta! I really need Baachan's help with something, can I see her?"
Was that sweat breaking out on Yuuta's forehead? "It's not really a good time, Miko, could you come back in an hour--"
"Yuuta, boy, is that the Miko? Don't just block the door, invite her in!" Yuuta went just a degree paler, and made that reluctant sound he always did when going against the Authority of Baachan was not an option. But he stepped aside, and motioned her in. Taylor shot him an apologetic smile as she walked through the door, Sunny close on her heels.
"Sorry, I know I should have called, but I'm on a time limit, and--" and what the hell was Emma doing at Baachan's kitchen table?! "--oh I see you are working with ofuda, maybe Sunny can take a look at them while we're here if you don't mind." There was an open notebook and the pot of ink and brushes at the small table, placed in front of a vacant seat, but it was the deer-in-headlights redhead sitting adjacent that made Taylor feel like a rug had been pulled out from underneath her. What was Emma doing here? Why? Why would Baachan invite her into her home? Why would Yuuta sit next to her, after the things she'd done?
Too-familiar hurts and fears welled up with a hundred explanations, each terrible. Then Baachan caught her attention, the old woman's warm hands on hers as she asked what Taylor needed help with. Taylor felt a tightness in her chest ease. Whatever the reason, it couldn't be what she feared-- neither Yuuta nor Baachan would betray her like that. They had both gone to great lengths to extend their trust to Taylor, she would just have to trust them in turn.
"I got called to a cape meeting on short notice; Lung might even be there, I don't know. Can you help me with my kimono, Baachan?" Taylor saw the old woman start to smile, the expression maybe even a little self-satisfied. Maybe she was glad she'd been the first one Taylor came to?
"You come to the right place, Miko, of course Baachan will help you. When is your meeting, maybe I will be able to do something with that hair of yours."
* * *
Yuuta watched his grandmother lead the Miko off, the Ōkami of hers following behind. Nothing he needed to deal with, so he sat back down and started copying another set of characters on a fresh sheet of paper. Calligraphy might be a bit more girly than he'd prefer, but he was getting pretty good at it, if he said so himself. Crazy Chick sat in stunned silence next to him, her painted nails gripped tightly around a cooling mug of hot cocoa.
He'd heard about the Miko getting attacked at her home, probably everyone had, and while the News was saying Chessman 'had arrived' in time to drive off the stupid, stupid gangers who'd done it, there were videos online saying the hero's soldiers had come out of the house, not to it. Lots of people were getting banned on PHO over speculation, saying that maybe that had been Chessman's house, not just Brushstroke's. The Protectorate had certainly gone apeshit enough over it. At least, those were the rumors Yuuta had been hearing. And from the look on Crazy Chick's face, they were the rumors she'd been hearing, too.
She stayed quiet while Yuuta worked, lost in whatever thoughts rattled around in her head, then froze up again when Taylor and Baachan came back out. The Miko's meeting must have been soon, because Baachan hadn't done much more than shove a pretty comb into her hair, but she had a pretty sweet kimono and some lip gloss to make up for it. Kinda funny to remember Haru calling her a butterface, a few months back. Guess clothes really did make the man. Miko. Whatever.
"Thanks so much, Baachan! Yuuta, I can look over your charms when I get done with the meeting-- oh, right! I talked to Oni Lee, you're off the hook for buying from me. But he's gonna buy from you instead, so-- we'll talk later, can't be late, bye!" Yuuta felt his grandmother's gaze sharpen like knifepoints, even as Taylor sat sidesaddle on the Ōkami and rode off, not a care in the world.
"Yuuta! I thought you were taking up a brush because you were cultured, not to be a hoodlum!"
"I can do both!" That argument sounded better in his head. Grandmother tutted at him, clearly not letting the issue drop for ever, but she left to go busy herself elsewhere in the apartment. Maybe she didn't want to argue in front of a guest. Score one for Emma, he supposed. The girl in question stayed quiet as he got back to work, dipping the brush in the ink and making careful lines upon the paper. Damnit, now he really wanted to know what else Taylor had to say. Because if there wasn't the Oni hanging over him about it, getting wads of cash in exchange for some ink on paper sounded like a pretty sweet gig. The desire to join the gang proper, he'd found, had cooled in proportion with his chance of getting grenaded. It still didn't sound too bad, but if he could make money and reputation without it…
"She… didn't even look at me." Yuuta finished a line, then looked up. Crazy Chick was hugging her arms around herself. "Taylor. It's like she didn't even care."
"So? I did tell you, that feud you got is one-sided."
"She said she was going to a cape meeting." Yuuta nodded. "Said Lung might be there, like she didn't care about him either." Yuuta considered, then nodded again. Rumors were pretty rampant there, as well, but the general consensus was that even Lung worked with or around the shrine cape. Or whatever the Miko was, exactly.
"And I saw the news," Emma continued, "about that dog she had with her, and the Merchants-- and that her dad might be a hero. She's… powerful, isn't she?"
"Well, yeah."
"No, you don't get it! This isn't new, is it? She could have-- at any time, she could have-- I mean, she could even sic Oni Lee on me, couldn't she?" Crazy Chick turned wide eyes on him. And while Yuuta could understand being scared of the Oni, what was she freaking out about now?
"So? She didn't. Why would she?" And there she goes again, staring at him like he's some kind of alien. Yuuta rolled his eyes. "Yeah, the Miko could probably smite you a dozen different ways, but just because she could doesn't give her a reason to."
"But I gave her reason! I gave her plenty of reasons!"
Yuuta cut her off before she could panic harder. "Yeah, but she's not that kind of person."
"Not that kind of person," Emma repeated, her expression falling. "...the whole time?"
"Probably, yeah. Takes a lot of work to stop being a kind of person, y'know?" Yuuta sighed, and finished up another practice charm. "You wanna stay here a bit, or should I take you home 'fore Taylor comes back from her meeting?"
"...just a bit longer."
"Mkay. Hey, pass me that other inkwell? This one's going dry." He saw the redhead nod out of the corner of his eye, then reach behind her to the kitchen counter, where the rest of the supplies he'd been given sat. Emma plucked the full inkpot from its resting place and held it in her hand for a moment, just looking at it. Her grip tightened, and she took a breath-- then set the pot gently on the table.
