Being dead was a total rush.

That seemed contradictory, naturally, and only a month ago Kyoutani would've disagreed with you. However, now that he had settled into his afterlife a little more, the rush of a painless existence and the unrestrained possibilities were freeing, exhilarating. The poor thug didn't stand a chance and he quickly knocked him out with an excellent punch to the face.

He dived through the window and fired four shots into the vampire before him. It howled and dropped to the ground, writhing about until a Guardian scooped it up and left all in one smooth motion. Kyoutani turned and dodged a swipe from some brainless brute, returning it with a punch of his own to the guy's stomach. The attacker doubled over and Kyoutani elbowed him in the back of his head without remorse. He went down, out cold, and Kyoutani moved on.

Yahaba had a high vantage point, having managed to get onto a balcony of one of the apartment buildings, about four floors up. His carnamancy was ineffective at such a distance but well-placed crossbow bolts soared through the air, connecting with the torsos and limbs of anyone trying to flee retribution in the form of Kyoutani Kentarou and the miniature army of Guardians.

Something was living in the way he punched someone who got too close. Something breathed when he reloaded his guns after emptying the barrel into a man's chest. Something's heart pounded when he fired those bullets and when he punched a new person. He would laugh if that wouldn't make him look incredibly psychopathic in front of all these thugs.

Although they didn't have much leg to stand on in the respect: they were kidnapping children to feed to their vampire allies after all. The fight was awkwardly both inside and outside, half taking place in an alleyway hidden in the depths of Fukushima and half taking place in the collection of shady and filthy buildings that lined it. Kyoutani had glass shards sticking out of his flesh or splinters from the doors he'd busted down threading through his clothes that he hadn't had time to take out yet. At least there were no bullet holes ruining his hoodie this time. He had never been able to recover the last one.

One after the other, opponents fell before him, and a Guardian would sweep in to collect the thug or vampire and clear the field. Kyoutani dodged one brute swinging a sword at him and kicked a vampire in the leg as it come for him. It wasn't quite night yet, but it was late evening and the skies were clouded over and raining, blocking out any threat from sunlight.

He was caught off guard by a kick to the chest and crashed through an open doorway onto the smooth wooden planks. The zombie rolled backwards with the momentum, struggling to get to his feet again since the floor was so polished. He could hear kids sobbing in the background but they'd be safe for as long as he held these criminal's attention. There was a vampire in here, much taller than Kyoutani, but scrawny. She held a large knife in her hands and didn't hesitate to leap at the abile, fangs flashing in the half-light.

Kyoutani stepped aside, catching her wrist with one hand and hurriedly defending his middle with the other from her lashing hand. She had a feral gleam in her eyes and tried to rush him again, only for him to flip her over his shoulder and kick her head while she was down until there was a resounding snap. He grabbed her by the arm and threw her out of the building, where a Guardian seemed to just materialise to catch and restrain her. One day, Kyoutani would stop to ask a Guardian how they always knew what to do and where to be: today was not that day.

Deeming the rest of the building empty of threat, he scanned the room until he spotted where the sobbing was coming from. Cages were lined up at the back of the room, iron-barred and thick enough to contain rabid wolves safely, and inside were children, crying and pressed against the far wall. Large plates full of food sat before them, half-eaten. The kids were a mix of half-starved and half-fattened, a strange array of those who gave into their fate as food and those who tried to fight it. The zombie knelt down before them.

"Shh," he hushed gently. "You'll be free soon, I promise. But, for now, I'm going to need you to stay put, okay?"

Not a single child responded or even seemed to listen through the midst of their hysteria and Kyoutani sighed and shrugged to himself. He was infamously bad at comforting people, anyway, so maybe getting ignored was the best in this situation. Leaving the children where they were to be rescued later, Kyoutani put his hood back on his head and stepped out, back into the alleyway as he spun his pistols round on a finger from each hand.

He shot a vampire thrice in the head as he ran out of a building and then elbowed someone in the shoulder and shot her in the hip as she went down. The alley was pulsing with people: a whirling, uncontrollable heave of everyone fighting this way and that, Guardians breezing past in their white armour, katanas swinging through the haze. Kyoutani kicked someone in the crotch, turned and headbutted another. He used Ironbone to break someone's arm and didn't flinch when the thug stabbed his knife through his arm.

The crossbow barrage seemed to have stopped for a second and he looked up just in time to see Yahaba pushing a vampire from the balcony – the creature's skin was covered in boils and her hands were missing their taloned, yellow-ish fingers.

Kyoutani dived and slid between a sprinting Guardian's legs, standing up and breaking someone's nose. He dodged, evaded and ducked; he shot, punched and kicked; he fought his way through the screaming, hectic crowd until he got to the steps of a fire escape connected to the building Yahaba was sheltering in. He scrambled up, firing into the crowd routinely until one of his glocks clicked and jammed. People were shrieking, the panic of survival in their eyes. Thugs were trying to escape only to be caught by Guardians; vampires broke their resolve and turned on the nearest brute.

His eyes fell on one particular scene as he reached the balcony Yahaba was upon, where a vampire – too caught up in the smell of blood and the haze of the battle – pounced on an unsuspecting woman trying to fend off a Guardian, biting at her neck.

"Guess they put their neck on the line for nothing, huh?" He tried to quip.

Yahaba didn't look up, firing another bolt into the crowd and taking out a vampire easily. "Sorry, what was that?" He asked.

"I said that they put their neck on the line for nothing," repeated Kyoutani.

The carnamancer blanked him. "No. They put their necks on the line to help vampires feast on lost children."

"I'm making a joke."

"Are you?"

"Yeah. Because, y'know, vampires and necks. It's kind of a theme."

"Oh. It was a really bad joke. I didn't get it."

"Dickhead," grunted Kyoutani.

Yahaba smirked, reloading and aiming his crossbow. "Leave the clever quotes to me, okay? We all know your brain isn't up for the job."

"You fixed my brain, didn't you?" Kyoutani huffed, sitting down as he began to examine the jammed pistol.

"Sadly, no amount of magic will fix your lack of intelligence," Yahaba shot another bolt, hitting someone in the shoulder. "It is a curse you shall bear until the end of time."

Kyoutani glared. "Dickhead," he repeated.

"You need more insults that aren't just variants of 'dick', y'know."

"Hark, says the guy who insists on using 'fuckface'. Besides, I use 'bastard' when the occasion calls for it." He pulled out the chamber, and took out the misfired bullet, reloaded more carefully, and then put it back in. He aimed and fired, successfully, this time. "Didn't expect so many people."

"It seems like they were having some kind of meeting," Yahaba commented lightly. "It's a new moon tonight – maybe there was going to be a ritual happening."

Kyoutani sighed loudly, shooting his glock aimlessly into the crowd and narrowly missing a Guardian, which turned to look up at him briefly before moving on. "What is it with weird cults that keep hosting rituals around here? You'd think these guys would get bored of the repetitiveness of these crimes."

The potente shrugged, aiming again. "Well, the yakuzas are kept pretty in check thanks to Detective allyship, so the troublemakers need different ways to lash out."

"Still, they could at least be creative with their crime." Kyoutani watched idly as the hectic crowd was beginning to disperse. More and more criminals were being dragged off by Guardians into the grey vans that blocked either end of the alleyway, and more and more vampires were being subdued and pressed to the floor in shackles.

The zombie took the hood off his head and brushed as much rainwater as he could from his clothes. Even if it wasn't going to kill him – again – the thought of too much water made him uncomfortable nowadays. He saw what it had done to that Frankenstein, and it was no stretch to picture it happening to him. Yahaba had confirmed too much water and melting would be his fate too. One could make an Oz reference: if it were someone else, Kyoutani probably would. Yahaba certainly had.

"I think that's most of them," Yahaba said, lowering his crossbow and peering into the crowd. "The Guardians can handle the rest. We should find the children."

"I found a few," answered Kyoutani, slotting his glocks away. "They were in the building across from us but I'm pretty sure I heard more in other places."

"Let's rescue them, then," Yahaba put his crossbow in his holster. Pulling his gloves on first, he offered a hand to Kyoutani. "C'mon. We gotta do the non-violent part of our jobs."

"Ugh, so boring," Grunted Kyoutani, taking Yahaba's hand and allowing himself to be dragged to his feet. "Oh, I got stabbed by the way."

"Where?"

"In the arm."

Yahaba huffed, pulling off a glove and grabbing Kyoutani's hand. A sense of warmth fled up his body till it reached his bicep and the gap in his flesh closed with a tingling sensation. "Was that the only thing?"

"Mhm." The carnamancer dropped his hand and Kyoutani missed the heat of magic but continued casually with, "No major casualties today, huh?"

"Nope," Yahaba grinned. "And the traffic wasn't bad on the way here, either!"

Kyoutani put his hands in his pockets as they descended the stairs. "All in all, a good day!"

"Things have been pretty good recently," Agreed Yahaba.

"Aside from Hirohisa still on the loose, though," Kyoutani reminded promptly.

Yahaba made a comical face, but his eyes were dark. "Ugh, why would you remind me?"

"It's okay," The abile nudged him gently. "He's not going to get away for long."

"He's got away for too long already."

"It's only been two weeks," Kyoutani said. "He's not going to be able to run forever."

"He shouldn't have got away in the first place."

"Sheer dumb luck, I'd say," grunted Kyoutani. "He was lucky that the other Detectives were putting his followers in shackles when he made his escape."

Yahaba scowled and Kyoutani could sense his skin was prickling. "He's still in the country at least. We'll get our hands on him in the end."

"And you'll still kill him on sight?"

"Aw, Kyouken, have more faith in me than that!" Yahaba scoffed and smirked up at Kyoutani as they reached the bottom of the stairs. "I'll kill him after gloating about it, of course!"

Kyoutani wasn't sure if he was joking or not.

They were now standing together in an alleyway that had almost fully cleared up. It was hard to imagine that only a minute ago it had been a place full of gunfire and blood feasting. A few Guardians were injured but it was nothing major. Vans were being fully loaded and driven away, with only a few remaining to escort the kidnapped children home. The Bentley wasn't in sight as Yahaba had insisted on parking it a few blocks down despite the rain and Kyoutani's protests: apparently, he wasn't going to risk anything that might scratch up the paint job.

"Guardian," Kyoutani called out to one that was standing motionlessly, awaiting orders, "there are children in that building there." He pointed to the one he had been in earlier, "Go free them."

The Guardian nodded and left. Yahaba led Kyoutani to the fire exit near the stairs, that had been thrown open a while ago, and let himself inside. Although there weren't any cages in the immediate vicinity, it didn't take either of them long to find the room they were being stored in – four girls and two boys were shackled together in a bathroom far too small for them, tears staining their faces and hands covering their ears.

Yahaba sighed, having to take off his gloves again and he gently approached them, fingers flexed. Kyoutani watched as their muscles relaxed and their breathing slowed, their eyes opening to stare at Yahaba.

"Hiya," he said gently, "You're safe now, okay? The bad guys are gone." The words, but it was probably the carnamancy, had a magical effect on them as the children all seemed to calm down and nod obediently. "This is Kyouken," Yahaba informed them softly. "He's going to get you out of those shackles, okay? Can you let him?"

The children ambled cautiously into a clump, one closer to Kyoutani than the rest, and the zombie got to work without hesitation. He took the chains of the shackles in his fist and the Ironbone symbol flashed - his grip tightened instantly, and the metal links shattered in his hand. He moved down the line calmly, snapping up the chains until the children were mostly all free.

"Head outside," he said, voice gruffer than he intended. "There are people outside, in red. They'll direct you to a safe place."

The kids ran past, one of the boys beginning to cry - he looked to be younger than the rest of them. Kyoutani watched them go, before turning his gaze back to Yahaba, who was examining the bathroom intently.

"I feel like we're missing something," huffed the potente, sensing Kyoutani's eyes on him. "We're not seeing something, I swear."

"Hirohisa doesn't have anything to do with this," Kyoutani frowned.

Yahaba shook his head, kneeling down to peer inside the cabinet under the sink. "No, not Hirohisa, this isn't his style. This is far too... I don't know, Hirohisa would have his name plastered everywhere. This is a subtler thing."

The abile crouched down next to him, looking inside the most definitely empty sink cabinet that Yahaba was glaring at. "I don't think the evidence is going to be under a sink of all things."

"Evidence is everywhere, Kyouken," insisted Yahaba, putting his gloves back onto his hands as he reached behind the pipe. He pulled out a feather and turned to Kyoutani with a grin that his friend did not share.

"A feather isn't evidence."

"It might be evidence."

"How on earth could it be evidence?"

"Maybe it's a yakuza calling card."

"You just did a whole thing about yakuza crime being in check due to partnerships."

"I never said anything about it being a calling card from a big yakuza. It might be a calling card from a small yakuza."

"It's a dusty feather. Not a calling card."

"You have no imagination."

"At least I have common sense."

Yahaba rolled his eyes, placing the feather in his pocket. "I bet you it's a calling card."

"If you're wrong, I'll never let you live it down."

"I'm never wrong, Kyouken."

Kyoutani sighed, following Yahaba out of the bathroom and soon out of the building. "You're so annoying."

"Didn't deny that I'm never wrong!"

"You need to keep your ego in check."

Yahaba snorted, sliding open a door that had a human-sized hole through it. "Come on, Kyouken, back to the task at hand."

The zombie smirked, rolling his eyes lightly, but continued to search the building as instructed. The routine was more of the same. They find crying children, Yahaba uses carnamancy to calm them down, Kyoutani breaks the chains, they let them run away, and they find more crying children. Kyoutani wondered what it must be like to be one of those kids: emotionally preparing - or panicking - over your imminent, gruesome fate only to be rescued by a pale, silver-haired man too tall for his own good and a bleach-blonde with eyes of a corpse. Not to mention, dealing with the wordless Guardians afterwards. After something like that, even the nastiest piece of homework would seem mundane.

Or at least, it would if the kids were allowed to remember this. They had carvers trained for this exact situation, to create and carve symbols that block the knowledge of magic from their minds, to erase the memories of the poor people who really didn't need such things. Speaking of which, one such carver should be arriving now. The pair left the fourth building they had investigated and looked around at the sea of kids that flocked around the pointing and carrying Guardians.

Yahaba frowned. "Where's the carver? Whoever it is should've arrived by now."

"Did they send Yukie?" Asked Kyoutani. "She's always late, somehow."

"No clue," Answered the potente, staring vaguely at a van that drove away quietly. "Whoever's coming, it'll be fine if it's anyone but-"

An obnoxious blare of music started fading in, along with the sound of a revving engine. A motorbike whipped around the corner, swerving dramatically: it was painted the most unignorable yellow, neon and emotionally scarring; the paint job was scratched up and patches were replaced with a shade of yellow ever so slightly off from the rest of it.

Yahaba and Kyoutani sagged. "Terushima..." They chorused bleakly.

The motorcycle whizzed past them, turned with the uncomfortable hiss of rubber tires on the tarmac, and started zooming back towards them. It braked, shuddering down the path before coming to a noisy halt in front of the two National Detectives. The driver took off his yellow helmet, a different shade from both the paints on the bike and even his own hair, flashing the two a toothy grin.

"Ayup, you guys!" Terushima Yuji greeted brightly. "Where are the kids?"

Kyoutani pointed at the gaggle of wide-eyed children, all staring at the new arrival. "They're kinda hard to miss, y'know."

"Oh, right!" Terushima turned off his blaring radio, blessing them all with brief tranquillity, and clambered off his motorbike. "Kyoutani-san, it's been ages! Like, it's been years! I bet a whole decade has passed!"

"Uhm. No, it's only been three years." Kyoutani blinked awkwardly. God, this guy was strange... "How, uh, how've you been?"

Terushima nodded enthusiastically. "I've been good, I've been good. Anything cool happen to you in all these years apart?"

"Well, I, uh..." He frowned. "I died."

"Huh! Oh, yeah, I heard about that!" Terushima looked him up and down enthusiastically. "Well, you're looking good for a guy who's just been freshly buried."

The abile shrugged. "Not too fresh - it was a month ago."

"Aw, neat. Hey, you got murdered, right?" Kyoutani nodded stiffly in response and Terushima's grin widened. "Good thing you've got your necromancer boyfriend with you, huh?"

"Terushima, just do your job," Instructed Yahaba sharply, arms crossed.

The carver straightened up immediately, saluting lightly. "You got it, boss! Time to un-traumatise some kids!" He climbed over his motorcycle instead of walking around it, approaching the children with hands outspread and a big beam on his face.

Kyoutani sighed loudly as he watched him go. "He really hasn't changed, has he?"

"Not one bit," replied Yahaba, "but he has improved, I'll give him that. Although I'd prefer Yukie over him any day."

The zombie nodded. "Don't we all? At least she's mostly professional."

Yahaba nodded, pushing his hand through his hair to knock loose strands back into place. "Either way, that's our stuff done for the day. The rest is up to Terushima and the Guardians."

"Shall we head back to Sendai?" prompted Kyoutani lightly.

"Might as well," replied Yahaba and he looked up at the sky. "The rain's fizzling out. That's good for you."

The abile nodded and hesitantly pulled off his hood. "The sooner we start driving, the sooner we're home."

"That is typically how time goes, yes." Yahaba began to lead them calmly from the alleyway. "Oh, and when we get back home, I'm going to use the TV. The latest season of my show came out yesterday and I'm watching it."

Kyoutani rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine. If you must."

The road was empty, aside from Sanctuary-issue vans driving to and fro from the alley. The buildings that lined the street were just as dirty and unwelcoming as those that had been occupied by the vampires. A shady place for shady business: what Kyoutani wouldn't give to get a search warrant for all these buildings, to investigate and discover whatever villainy no matter how big or small lurked behind these doors. Nowhere was perfect, after all.

"Do you think it's wise to leave those kids under the protection of Terushima of all people?" Asked Kyoutani as they turned a corner.

"Hey, he hasn't been fired yet, has he?"

"That's really not filling me with confidence."

Yahaba snorted. "Fair enough. I'll text Watari to send him some more backup in a bit."

"I think he might be in a meeting," Kyoutani hummed as they crossed the road. "I sent him a message earlier and it didn't go through."

"Well," the potente shrugged airily, "guess the kids will just have to suffer, then."

He nodded half-heartedly in response and they turned a corner to see the Bentley, sitting proudly on the side of the road, completely untouched and perfect. Yahaba grinned widely, just like he always did, patting the car on the bonnet as he made his way to the driver's side. "In you get, Kyouken."

Kyoutani swung open the passenger door and climbed inside, closing it carefully behind him – Yahaba would've started a row if he had slammed it. Clipping his seatbelt in, he turned to his friend, "So straight back to Sendai?"

"Like we have anywhere else to be right now," Yahaba grunted, turning the key in the ignition and starting up the engine that purred into life. "Is there anywhere you need to stop off at?"

"No," Kyoutani replied, "Let's just head back to yours."

"Good, because I need a nap." The carnamancer grinned and Kyoutani returned it lightly. "Although," he began, "we could stop off at a shop somewhere, I'm out of coffee." Yahaba turned the wheel around and then pulled out onto the empty road, the car sailing smoothly. Kyoutani turned on the radio and Yahaba hummed along with the music. They drove in silence for no less than a minute until Yahaba pulled his phone from the pocket of his bomber jacket and handed it to Kyoutani.

"Text Watari for me," he said. "About sending back-up for Terushima."

"On it," replied Kyoutani, taking the phone and unlocking it. He opened Yahaba's email and, as he went to draft new, he saw an unread message that was... concerning, to say the least. "Hey, dude, you've got an unread email from Washijou-san."

"From Washijou?" Yahaba frowned as he flicked on the indicator. "Is it about my 'behaviour problems' and 'lack of respect', again? If it is, bin it. My behaviour is brilliant and I respect everybody."

"No, it doesn't look like it's about your attitude. It's called 'Incident in Sendai'."

The carnamancer tried to glance at the phone, brow knitted together. "That certainly doesn't sound good. Read it for me."

"Uh, okay." Kyoutani cleared his throat unnecessarily. "Yahaba-san, return to Sendai as soon as you possibly can after reading this email. There was an attack in the graveyard, involving an active sniper and grenades, the victim of the attack being Sanctuary employee W- oh, gods."

"What? What is it?" Yahaba's eyes gleamed with worry at Kyoutani's slack face. "Who got hurt?"

"Watari," Kyoutani breathed. "Yahaba, Watari's been attacked."