Unknown [Ayano, Deman]

[pepsi]

-- CHAPTER 6.5 // UNKNOWN

"I'm sorry. They brought reinforcements."

The voice of the beast echoed in the room. On the other side, on the comfortable chair that overlooked the conveyor belts of the production line, stood Garter Mite. He mumbled something, and the expression on the beast's face softened up. He expected disappointment, but he was glad at Garter's clemency.

"No, I won't fail next time they are here... You understand. Thank you."

He took his exit, and descended onto the semi-open space below. That very morning, the Supervisors told him, a few workers caused a big fuss. One of them collapsed during their shift, and as a result, another one couldn't properly screw all the bolts the metal boxes. They couldn't fix the issue until they noticed, of course, and the entire production line stopped for almost an hour. Another group of workers tried to escape the factory during that time.
It was his job to remind the workers that they weren't allowed outside. He took another flight of stairs, those that would lead him to the "dormitories"; cages, effectively. They lacked nothing, he said to himself, strolling across the long corridor joining the dorms: they had food, shelter, and a bed. All things he himself didn't have, all things they should thank Garter for.
Some of the workers were still awake, or perhaps they woke up upon hearing the beast's steps. Out of fear, none of them dared to get even close to the bars that kept them apart from the corridor; the bars would protect them, some of them thought, unless they were the few unlucky ones the beast decided to pay a visit to.
The door of one such unfortunate soul creaked open, after the electrical lock was released.
What followed was a scene that repeated itself the same, every night of every day. They were darn stubborn, all of them; it was in their blood to try and defy authority. A few would try to escape, and nighttime would the beast come and pay them a visit.
Many workers only returned to their shifts after weeks in the infirmary. Some didn't return.

"You wanted a taste of fresh air?"

"Please..."

"I'll make an example of you, dirty Revolutionary."

"Please... It won't happen again!"

"... I know, it won't."

And then, a bone-chilling shriek of pain.

Deman sat down on the boat's little deck, watching the light of the moon reflect and tremble on the surface of the water. He had thanked Natalie and Ayano for their hospitality, and boarded the ship with little hesitation.
It was clear that his forces weren't nearly enough for the assault on the factory. Not as he had planned, anyways; he himself wasn't strong enough, and he wasn't sending Shijin to certain death any time soon. But fate gave him a second chance, and Phoebe gave him like-minded allies. He wasn't going to let the opportunity pass him by.
A lock of white hair moving in his peripheral vision caught his attention. He smirked, remembering the story as Phoebe told him.

"Ghosts are revenants with a purpose to fulfill."

He declared out loud. He wasn't sure the girl understood that the message was directed to her, as staring into the distance typically doesn't give away the recipient. "I'm not one to believe in spirits, and Phoebe might not be the most reliable of sources. But her empathy sometimes hits the mark, and she was very vocal about the ghost she'd seen."
This time, he turned completely to look towards the last position he knew of the swordswoman. "I'm quite sure you didn't die. Perhaps only figuratively. But there is something that propels you in your figurative afterlife, I'm certain. I'm the same."

-- NAME // Deman Reeves

-- CLASS // D

-- TECHS USED // None.

[Vio]

^{Ayano #1}

---

The day had been eventful, to say the least. Meeting Phoebe — the strange girl with the power to mimic the aesthetic of practically anyone she looked like — who had last been sighted falling into the water at L’Estrange Natalie’s agreement, was just one of those odd events. Arguably, it was the catalyst to the meticulously planned chaos that had followed in the wake of that splash. The arrival at the factory under cover of night, the strange clash against the beast and the meeting of the ‘White Tiger’, and their escape.

Kōketsu Ayano had taken it all in her stride. Well, she’d tried to; Natalie’s antics had sometimes gotten dangerously close to wearing her patience thin, but time to temper her resolve had been provided. Once more, she was a stoic woman with silvery white hair and narrow eyes of purple, dressed in the type of garb one would expect of a military officer and holding fast to the hilt of her sword. The gentle bobbing of the boat upon calm, moonlit waters was as rhythmic as her breathing as she turned away from the harbour and out to the ocean beyond.

“Ghosts are revenants with a purpose to fulfil,” he said. A man of decent stature, sat upon the deck of the simple sailboat, his own snowy hair glistering like platinum threads in the lunar radiance. A guest aboard their little vessel, after realising that they shared common ground, though still a mystery. With calm steps she walked to match his position upon the deck, near the bow, but did not sit. Rather, she rested the kojiri of her blade’s saya upon the deck, hands resting upon the kashira of the tsuka, just as he turned to look at her properly.

“I never ‘died’,” she replied. “Not as far as I am aware, at least,” came the addition after a moment of thought — a moment of reminiscence. “But we are not here to discuss the metaphors of our pasts. Rather, that is not our priority, is it?” Ayano let the question linger, answered or otherwise, before turning to face the fellow sword. A better look revealed nothing too conspicuous, save the hue of his hair, to her eyes. For all their similarities, their contrasts were just as pronounced.

“What’s your name? Your actual name? Phoebe compared you to a ‘White Tiger’ in a roundabout way,” Miss Kōketsu stated, referring to the girl’s talk of toys and tigerish preferences. If not for her grounded demeanour, strong presence, and overall manner, she too could have been compared to such a mythical beast — an irony in that she was nothing like it save for colour.

^{“If it helps…,” she raised her chin:
“I am Kōketsu Ayano. Noble.”}

---

SPOILER: Click to show

{Post Synopsis:—}
_{Ayano thinks over recent events before engaging in conversation with the mysterious White Tiger.}

---

Kōketsu Ayano | #fd6c9e
White Tiger | #eeeeee

[pepsi]

-- CHAPTER 6.5 // UNKNOWN

Deman watched the girl approach him calmly. Phoebe wasn't wrong, he said to himself; they really were similar in appearance. But much like one's uniqueness is defined by the whole of their being down to the details, he was certain that he couldn't take on faith that they would share an extensive common ground.
It was all too easy to say they both had white hair. It's a detailed description the one that truly provides insight on one's hue.

This was proven true with her reply; her words made him reconsider his approach to the situation. "Straight to the point." He said in a low voice, perhaps more to himself than to her. The swordslady decided to be very clear about the nature of the discussions she was open to have; it hadn't occurred to her that he wouldn't just throw an unrelated topic on the table. He turned his head again towards the open sea, while his mind collected the arguments he was about to present. "Perhaps it'd be more productive to be bluntly honest, then. Let me discuss it from your perspective."
And having declared so, he let her peer into his mind.

"My business with the facility is unfinished, clearly. You may conclude that sooner or later I will resume it." Deman shifted lightly in his place, making sure that the sword wouldn't leave his side by accident. "After all, retreat is an action one takes to reformulate a plan. This information is available to you too."

Relaxing his expression a bit, he continued: "I am on this boat, willing to open a conversation. This conversation, however, isn't on the pressing matter - just as you noted. What's more, is that I'm not talking to both you and your friend. One would say, instead, that I'm trying to assess you by yourself." He stopped for a moment, feeling the need to clarify on the last word: "Informally," he added.

"Why you, right now? To be frank, it's quite late, and I need to sober up before I talk to your partner, or else I'll die trying." He smirked, and gently shook his head to go with the joke. He had to release the tension in his words, since - as Phoebe would put it - he had a tendency to sound threatening when explaining himself.
To highlight the importance of the last matter, he turned again towards the girl; this time, he firmly locked eyes with her. "My priority is to judge whether or not you'll be allies for a second time. Which also answers your question, for this is exactly the discussion I am supposed to be having."
"Informality is just a way for me to be nice about it," he concluded. "It does not mean I am not firmly focused on my goals."

He listened to the girl inquire about his "true" name. "Deman Reeves. Phoebe routinely gives it away, too, which causes me no end of trouble with keeping a low profile." He wasn't going to mention why he would be called anything other than Deman Reeves, as it would probably be the subject of a different conversation altogether - one that he was willing to have, but only if asked. Shijin was merely a concept haphazardly hacked together by that point, after all.
He didn't regret giving away his status, but he did regret letting the girl in on his plan just a second afterwards. "Noble?" he asked, just barely about to break eye contact. That very word... he felt his right shoulder burn, feeling the hot iron once more against his skin. He resisted the urge to hold the shoulder and give away his distress, and cursed himself. He was never going to stay calm in front of a noble, and he was not ready to be in front of one that night. "Of the kind that hails from Mariejois?"
Deman's lips pursed as he tried to rationalize the situation. What could a noble want with a Revolutionary? No spy would give away their title like that; which left only a handful of options on the table. She could be defecting her own nobility to side with the opposing faction, or they could both be spies and he had just fallen in their trap head to toes.

-- NAME // Deman Reeves

-- CLASS // D

-- TECHS USED // None.

[Vio]

^{Ayano #2}

---

^{“Noble?” he asked:
“From Mary Geoise…?”}

He’s been calm and calculated so far… Why would that unnerve him so as to jump to conclusions? A silent analysis of the newly named Mister Reeves’ response to her introduction heralded something unusual. His speech so far had been certain, though perhaps a tad philosophical, with only a few breaks here and there to help alleviate the tension. And then, though he had barely moved, it was his words that suggested anxiety. Kōketsu Ayano’s eyes narrowed somewhat, drilling into his gaze, though he gave up nothing more.

She exhaled through her nose.

“I suppose I should be more clear,” she uttered, turning away to look out to sea again, gently drumming at the hilt of her blade with her fingertips. “Yes, I was born in the ‘Holy Land’,” Ayano explained, her tone dancing somewhere between scathing and mocking as she called the city by its moniker. “But I have little to no recollection of my time spent there. Much of my life was spent here, in the East Blue, under the care of a man who I have not seen nor heard from in seven years,” she added, purple eyes upon the moon as if challenging it. Poetically so, a thin cloud drifted across, burying the light behind its veil for a short moment, offering pause for contemplation.

“But that’s neither here nor there,” the silvery swordswoman spoke again as moonlight bathed them again, her gaze shifting back to Deman in an attempt to reanalyse his response — his reaction to what she was about to declare, so proudly. “What does it mean to be noble? To be born to a prestigious family, surrounded by wealth and luxuries that most would only dare to dream of? To have your livelihood guaranteed by some ancestral rite because the blood of your forefathers courses through your veins, untainted? To wield power over the masses due to the once great deeds committed in your family’s name?”

A pause — rhetorical.

“Let me answer that for you, Deman Reeves,” Miss Kōketsu stated, preventing the man from getting in another word, simply because she had no need of answers. She had long since found the answer she wanted, and he was about to hear it: “Those who call themselves nobles for any of those reasons have, in fact, never tasted what it means to be nobility — they likely never will. Why? Because they are consumed by their understanding of the pathetic ideologies of the conniving, the cowardly, and the corrupt. Nobility is achieved through action, hard work and sacrifice, not privileges granted by wealth or name. Noble blood is that which is willingly spilt for the sake of the people. That is what makes me a noble, unlike the ‘Celestial Dragons’.”

---

SPOILER: Click to show

{Post Synopsis:—}
_{Ayano explains a little of her background and her stance on nobility to Deman.}

---

Kōketsu Ayano | #fd6c9e
Deman Reeves | #eeeeee

[pepsi]

-- CHAPTER 6.5 // UNKNOWN

Deman listened closely to the woman's speech. As the words flowed and the argumentations followed one from the other, the expression on his face gradually relaxed. When prompted with a rhetorical question, he stood perfectly silent awaiting for the response - he understood, in the broadest sense of the word.
The girl was born in the land of the Celestial Dragons, with no memory of her time there. And then, for a reason unknown, she grew up away from it - and coherently, she was not tainted by the ideals of the Dragons. She was a noble, in her own way.
Her speech raised one very compelling argument. What it truly meant to be a "noble" was not whatever the twisted idea of a superior race touched the Dragons' minds, but something other. Something more fundamental and bound to the individual.

Deman took a few seconds of silence after Ayano's speech. His eyes, motionless and focused for the entirety of it, finally averted; he picked up the sword rested between his hip and the railing of the boat, and looked towards the moon.
"There are two truths, Ayano." He said, taking one more moment to gather the words most exact. "One truth is a fact of nature. The Sun shines with yellow light. Bodies fall freely with a speed that uniformly increases in time. Motion is never lost, but it changes form. These truths are unchanging and our best bet as human beings is comprehend them - and for the few lucky ones that can, harness them." His thumb started pushing the sword in and out of the scabbard, rythmically; Deman frowned, as he always did when the matter of the situation was serious enough.
"Another truth is such by convention. Titles, ranks, and the value of money are all vivid examples. The Celestial Dragons have taken a convention and elevated it to a fact of nature. They believe that they are to be distinguished by their nature, and their nature alone. Others, instead, deserve to live the life of slavery." He turned around again to look at Ayano, the Noble.

"I am a man, and I can tell you I was not born a noble. Do I deserve to be a slave for all my life?"
He paused, sure she would understand his question was rhetorical too.

"A Celestial Dragon would tell you 'yes', based on what you know of me alone." He gently shook his head. "A sensible person would at least be unsure. A person born the same as me would tell you 'no'."
It was at times like these that memories of his past would take over his mind. The whips, the pain, and the rage he felt throughout his childhood - so much so, that he simply didn't have any rage left. They took everything from him - the Nobles - until he took it back. On his island, those who aligned themselves with the slaver donned the golden symbol of the Yellow Dragon; for the longest time, the mere sight of that symbol would be enough to make his entire body tense up.
For the longest time, that symbol meant oppression and falsehood. It was about time, he thought, to let this meaning shift.
"So, this is why you side with the Revolutionaries. My resources are infinitely inferior, but the goal is the same. Why are you two here, Ayano? Does the Revolutionary Army know of the factory too?"

-- NAME // Deman Reeves

-- CLASS // D

-- TECHS USED // None.

[Vio]

^{Ayano #3}

---

Kōketsu Ayano’s little speech was soon reciprocated by one of Deman’s own creation — as if the two were dictating their words for the other to scribble down. Neither had done so; neither needed to. The rhetoric, the truths, and the ideals were all very much comprehensible. If anything, Deman’s talk solidified his position on the proverbial food chain. More specifically, it solidified in Ayano’s mind that he did not belong to said chain — he had already broken his link.

“Hm,” she exhaled, eyes closing for a moment as she pondered. “A relief unit was sent to investigate suspicious activities within the Yotsuba Islands some weeks ago, but periodic communications ended abruptly. Due to the complete lack of public news regarding the situation, foul play was suspected — the actions of a party with ulterior motives suggested,” Ayano explained, to the best of her ability, the more precise reasons for their presence. Eyes opened again, this time focused more upon the sword in her hands as she absently thumbed at the guard.

“Thus, L’Estrange Natalie and I were selected to gather intel and perform reconnaissance within the region more covertly. Thanks to an anonymous contact, we were quickly able to narrow down the potential location to Shells Town and said factory, and the rest you are already aware of,” Miss Kōketsu finalised, shifting her gaze back to Mister Reeves. His words on the Celestial Dragons, slavery, and the like had stirred her thoughts. It only made sense to ask the man yet another question; this time, not a rhetorical one.

^{“For what cause, Deman Reeves,” she recited his name:
“Do you wield your blade? What is that factory to you?”}

---

SPOILER: Click to show

{Post Synopsis:—}
_{Ayano reveals her reasons for being there, then asks Deman for his.}

---

Kōketsu Ayano | #fd6c9e
Deman Reeves | #eeeeee

[pepsi]

-- CHAPTER n // TITLE

Deman listened attentively to the swordslady. The information she was about to share was crucial to understand the current situation, why the two were there, and what could have been the reason for Revolutionaries to investigate. Of course, they didn't know the story on Deman's side.
But Ayano, Ayano didn't let go on her opportunity to ask exactly what his side would be. And so he talked.

"Garter Mite." He said, knowing full well that she most likely had no idea who this name belonged to. "The factory is owned by a certain Garter Mite. But to understand who this person is to me, I have to tell you why I'm not a 'Noble', in the wrong sense of the word."
He let go of the sword, placing it carefully by the gunwhale. It wasn't the first time he had to show his scars to another person, and it wasn't the first time he had to show it to another person; it had become routine, for Deman, because it was the quickest way to prove his point. The snow-haired swordsman unbuttoned his coat, showing the sleveless shirt underneath; he removed the simple hardened leather protection around his shoulder, exposing his right arm in full.
The marks on his skin, easily recognisable as whip scars, covered his limb from the wrist to the shoulder, increasing in frequency as one looked towards Deman's torso. But the most striking mark was a mangled up, unreadable numerical code.

He quickly returned his garments to their former positions. "I come from an island whose sole purpose was to produce slaves. Not all of them were marked like I am. Not all of them broke free from those chains as I did. The whole of it is perhaps a story for another time, but this is enough." His gaze went back to the light of the moon, as he remembered the lost shadows left behind.
"Garter Mite happens to be a buyer. His factory runs on forced labour, and I am here to put an end to it."

He sighed softly, picking up the weapon again and pushing it out of the scabbard with his thumb, letting the light of the moon sparkle against the sharp edge. "And in order to do that, I'll need as much help as possible. Your friend is a fire dancer of extreme agility, but it's hard to evaluate her combat prowess from the point of view of a swordsman. If you want to speak about yours, I might just be able to understand clearly, because you write with the same pen as I do."

-- NAME // Deman Reeves

-- CLASS // D

-- TECHS USED // None.

[Vio]

^{Ayano #4}

---

Garter Mite…? I cannot say that name means anything, Ayano noted, silently, as Deman explained his situation through a mix of simple words and token gestures. Disarming himself, the swordsman unbuttoned his coat, departed sleeve exposing marred flesh and the remnants of some kind of symbol whose meaning had since been lost — information discarded for the betterment of the man who had been branded. Deep purple hues scanned where skin had once been split and wealed, though she held composure.

“I come from an island whose sole purpose was to produce slaves,” Mister Reeves spoke, his words somehow leaving a bitterness on Miss Kōketsu’s tongue. “Garter Mite happens to be a buyer,” he continued, calling out the identity of the factory’s workforce, and Ayano’s eyes sharpened in understanding. The loss of communication, the information garnered; the fate of the Revolution’s agents was certain in her mind’s eye, and that only bolstered her resolve further. Before she could say anything, however, he shifted the topic.

“Natalie’s fighting style is definitely unorthodox, though,” the swordswoman said with a faintest showing of a smirk as she considered previous words spoken by that very same woman. “I’d be a hypocrite to say that my practise was in any way normal,” she added, taking Deman’s cue and sliding her own steel from its scabbard. Moonbeams dancing on steel was already a chilling sight to behold, but the noble warrior’s own edge was far from average, gleaming more intensely as silver veils hovered about the near pure white steel. In its current placement, one could readily see what made such a blade so truly bizarre, as moonlight’s caress caused a subtle technicolour iridescence to show itself within the silvery white steel.

“This sword’s name is ‘Shirajirashī’,” Kōketsu Ayano began. After all Deman had given her, it seemed foolish and almost disrespectful not to speak of what he was enquiring about. “I know nothing more of its origins, save for the fact it was left for me by my guardian when he vanished without trace, with a single request. I’ve so far succeeded in maintaining that ‘promise’ – I don’t intend to break it, and that is the principle of how I choose to fight. But…,” she exhaled, taking a small moment to observe the reflection of her eyes within the steel, then shifting to meet Deman’s gaze.

^{“I must make this entirely clear,” the swordswoman stated:
“Shirajirashī will not spill blood – not of man, nor of beast…”}

---

SPOILER: Click to show

{Post Synopsis:—}
_{Ayano hears Deman’s story, before answering his question with a single rule to which she has stayed true.}

---

Kōketsu Ayano | #fd6c9e
Deman Reeves | #eeeeee

[pepsi]

-- CHAPTER 6.5 // UNINHIBITED

Deman observed the subtle expressions of Ayano while she explained. The reflection of the moonlight on the pristine steel illuminated her face and bounced off her eyes, igniting a purple spark. The blade looked untouched, unadulterated and absolutely spotless. It made perfect sense, given how she described her way of fighting. He frowned for a moment, internalizing the information; how could he factor it in, when coming up with a plan? He had to remember her sword wasn't meant to draw blood, which opened as many possibilities as it impeded.
"So your pen does not write in ink." He concluded, summarising the woman's speech into a tight analogy. "You intend on maintaining the purity of this blade... and I will help in any way I can." He reasoned that if he was going to use the help of Ayano and Natalie most effectively, he needed to play on their strengths and cover up their weaknesses.
So he smirked, and similarly showed his own blade's metal. "Shirajirashi, meet 'Byakko'." The brilliance was much different from Shirajirashi's, and looked rather dull in comparison. It didn't even look like steel, although an untrained or uncaring eye wouldn't notice. "I designed it myself, as I needed a blade capable of withstanding great mechanical stress. Seastone does it consistently."
He let the sword slide back into the scabbard, and further elaborated. "I adhere to a more traditional school, if you would call it that. This blade need not remain pure, and if sullying it with blood serves the purpose of keeping another pure, then so be it."
For the first time since they started talking, Deman stood up. The time for questions was coming to a timely end, at least for him. "I suppose we have found the reason you roam these lands, ghost. The purpose that binds you to this realm, the folktales would say. Or, well, Phoebe would say."

-- NAME // Deman Reeves

-- CLASS // D

-- TECHS USED // None.

[Vio]

^{Ayano #5}

---

Byakko, Ayano confirmed mentally, gracefully sliding Shirajirashī’s steel back into its equally pristine saya. In comparison to a standard swordsman’s, the two blades were both rather unusual in their own unique ways — the purest white of hers versus the dull tint of the so aptly named ‘White Tiger’. In truth, she did not recognise any of the features that truly made Byakko bizarre; not until its wielder stated as such. Kairōseki — ‘Seastone’ — was indeed a material that greatly enhanced a tool’s durability for those who could forge it.

“I suppose we have found the reason you roam these lands, Ghost,” Deman commented, raising himself properly from the deck. Ayano wasn’t entirely sure whether he was saying so in jest or not, but at the same time it felt rather poetic. Phoebe hadn’t been wrong — the woman was a phantom of sorts. Still, she took a moment to contemplate, only speaking once more when she had collected her thoughts and reasonings. Now, the conversation wasn’t about the two of them and their ideals in the matter, but about the reason they were here.

“They will be anticipating another attack,” Miss Kōketsu said, picturing the factory in her mind’s eye, and glimpses of that bestial warrior whom she had clashed with. “Security will be increased where it is available to them for the foreseeable future and, even for a ‘ghost’ like myself, that will cause problems,” she continued, viewing the mission now from a more strategic standpoint. Sure, she wasn’t a tactician, but her assessments were as precise as her blade when it counted.

Moonlight caught her eyes.

“But anyone who studied the blade should know that there are times when hesitation can spell defeat,” the silvery-haired spectre stated, knowing full well that she could speak such things in Mister Reeves’ presence. “If Garter Mite has reinforcements coming, they may take more than a day to get to Shells Town. If we’re to strike twice, then we should strike swiftly,” she confirmed, looking the White Tiger in the eye…

---

SPOILER: Click to show

{Post Synopsis:—}
_{Ayano observes Deman’s own blade before formulating the basics of a strategy.}

---

Kōketsu Ayano | #fd6c9e
Deman Reeves | #eeeeee

[pepsi]

-- CHAPTER 6.5 // UNINHIBITED

The white-haired swordsman listened attentively to the woman's assessment. Finding it complete, he nodded in agreement; the girl was putting her brainpower to work for the cause, and that meant the conversation had hit the mark. He smirked, moonlight reflecting off his deep blue eyes.
It was nice to hear some actual strategy coming from a mouth that wasn't his. Useful as they were, not everyone among the members of Shijin was prone to tactical thinking. "Absolutely. One opportunity not taken, and a slash will miss." His eyes went to the horizon, as if they could scout the reinforcements of the enemy already.
"But I expected some level of security tonight already. It's as if they anticipated the first strike, and this is something we need to discuss with miss L'Estrange and your contact." It was indeed strange. It was far too easy to get close to the factory, and Deman would've managed to infiltrate through the roof with no effort if security really was absent.
A fleeting thought traversed his mind, that the whole setup could have been a trap. They wanted the Revolutionaries to get as close as possible to the factory, perhaps even get inside. But even then, how would they know of Shijin's presence? How would anyone know? Deman Reeves had been extremely careful not to let information about his intentions leak. "I'm afraid someone on the enemy's side has access to the information your contact does. I suggest having a talk with them, first thing tomorrow."
"Until then..." Deman said, his right hand digging into one of his pockets. When his fingers felt something cold, round and metallic, he stopped. A second of hesitation, and the hand came out empty. "... No. This will wait." And having mumbled those words, he turned around and went to find the most comfortable corner where he could lie down and wait for the next day.

-- NAME // Deman Reeves

-- CLASS // D

-- TECHS USED // None.

[Vio]

^{Ayano #6}

---

“I’m afraid someone on the enemy’s side has access to the information your contact does,” were not the words that Kōketsu Ayano really wanted to hear. Alas, the White Tiger was as analytical as she — indubitably more so — and such thoughts had not entirely skipped her mind in the wake of their thwarted mission. Ayano and Natalie were against the clock, yet the pressure failed to faze the fiercely focused woman; much like hesitation, to act with too much haste was detrimental.

^{“No,” Deman muttered:
“This will wait.”}

Ayano said nothing in return; thought nothing of it. She simply allowed his departure to a quieter corner of the small sailboat, and left him to his privacy. A grace that the swordswoman was sure would be welcomed, not least of which due to the presence of her cohort, Miss L’Estrange. The fire dancer’s peculiar and shameless ways were something of a mystery still, despite their camaraderie, but better that Nat left Deman to his own devices. Of that, Ayano would make sure.

I feel I’m missing a very important detail, Miss Kōketsu thought, standing there upon the deck even so and gazing across moonlit waters. Rest was needed, surely, even if only for her mental acuity, but her mind raced with possibilities. Minutes passed, but to no avail. This wasn’t a conundrum she could solve on this night, nor did she see further reason to fret over it. One way or another, they would succeed. They had to. Against all odds, that was the nobility of her design…

---

SPOILER: Click to show

{Post Synopsis:—}
_{Ayano loses herself in thought for a while, but is unable to figure out the problem.}

---

Kōketsu Ayano | #fd6c9e
Deman Reeves | #eeeeee