In this moment, there is no other word to describe her but hot. 

                       Although, that might be the burning warehouse behind us. 

                      (Well . . . okay, fine, who am I kidding? She's hot in both ways.)

                       "Let me down," I protest weakly into Veah's shoulder. "I can walk."

                       Actually, I can barely even breathe.

                       And if I'm not mistaken . . . there is something alive on Veah's face. Something in her eyes that reminds me of the fire behind us. There is an almost-grin on her mouth, and a kind of delirium in the shine of her gaze.

                       Crazy, I think. She is crazy.

                       Every time we've been in a life-threatening situation―that high-speed car chase, the airport, the truck driver―she has seemed . . . no, it's not happy. 

                       She thrives, I realize. She thrives in chaos. 

                       What did it mean, when Imai mentioned Project Basilisk? Why did he want me to hack the Wyvern? 

                        "Kaya!" Tommy cries. "You're alright!"

                        I push Veah's shoulder―I doubt she barely feels it―and say, "Let me down. I'm fine." 

                       I don't think I've ever been this close to her―besides the time we kissed. Wrapped in her embrace, my head against her chest. Her fingertips curl protectively over my shoulder. 

                       She―she smells like cherries.

                       "Where is everyone? Are they okay?" I ask, as Veah follows Tommy into the Underground. By the time we get to the medical ward, everyone has been taken care of―including Cassie.

                       "Kaya!" she sobs. There is a bandage on her temple and one secured over her hand. Covering what must be . . . what must be . . .

                        "Are you okay?"

                        "I thought you were dead!"

                        Finally, Veah lets me down. When my feet touch the floor, I stumble forwards, right into Kaya. Collapsing against her. She holds me as I weep, stroking her pink hair. "Cassie . . . Cassie . . . this was all my fault."

                      "Don't you dare say that," Cassie murmurs into my neck. "We're alive. We're both alive."

                     "Thanks to Veah," I mumble.

                     "I'm going to miss you," Cassie says, and when I pull back slightly to look at her face, I feel the dampness her tears have left behind.

                      "Why are you going to miss me? I'm not going anywhere."

                      Cassie shakes her head. "Kaya, you still have to leave. To fake your death."

                      At that, I see the green-eyed girl's head snap up. Jude. Interest―silhouetting her gaunt, weary features. There are two girls cocooned tightly in her grip.

                      Finally, I begin to notice our surroundings. The medical floor of the Underground is crowded with family and friends of everyone here.

                       "You guys gave me a fucking heart attack," I hear Jude say.

                       "Sorry, Mama," says the older one―Lacy.

                       "Sorry we got kidnapped by the Yakuza and held hostage, Mama," says the younger one.

                       Jude groans and exchanges a glare with Hunter. "Were we ever teenagers? I don't think I ever had this much of an attitude as a teenager."

                       "You've always had this much of an attitude," Hunter teases. That sharp exterior fading to reveal a hint of something soft for Jude―only for Jude and their daughters. She presses a light kiss to her wife's lips and adds, "Where do you think they learned it from?"

                       "I don't have a fucking attitude," Jude snaps.

                       Over Kaya's shoulder, I notice the couple from earlier: the Japanese girl who called herself Mikayla, and her fiancée, Gianina, with the full red mouth and the lovely brown skin.

                      "I thought I was going to lose you."

                      Mikayla places a hand over Gianina's heart, and Gianina curls her fingers over it. "Never," Mikayla whispers. "You can't get rid of me."

                     Gianina sniffles. "We do have a wedding, don't we?"

                     "I wouldn't miss it for the world," Mikayla promises. 

                     Gianina gives her a ferocious look. "Well, you'd better hope not, Miss Nakamura, or I'd whoop your ass!"

                     "I'm counting on it," Mikayla says with a sly grin.

                      I don't even realize I'm smiling, just faintly, before Cassie waves her hand in front of my face. "Are you even listening to me, Kaya? You have to go through with it." 

                     "After what just happened? Absolutely not!"

                     "You have to go to Tokyo," Cassie insists. "Veah will protect you. You'll make a new identity, and you'll be safe from them."

                     "You were just kidnapped. Like hell I'm going to just leave you behind."

                     "You have to. Kaya, they want you. As soon as you they think you're dead, they'll leave you alone, won't they? We'll all be safe."

                     Stricken, I look at her. "You want me to go? You're okay with staying?"

                     "If it means you're safe," Cassie whispers, "then go." 

                     "But―I'm leaving you here with an entire Mafia. It's not safe."

                     Cassie shakes her head. "You have all of these rules. Just let them go for once, okay? Damn your laws―and society's laws―to hell. The Mafia here are like overbearing, overprotective family. Probably a little suffocating, but they . . . they mean well."

                      Out of instinct, it seems Cassie glances somewhere behind me with a faint trace of adoration in her voice. That doesn't make sense, though. Tommy is the only one behind me.

                      "I'll see you soon," Cassie says. "And give my thanks to Veah, alright?"

                      "Veah?" I stammer out. Veah―who saved Cassie's life. Who saved my life by coming back for me. Right. Her. 

                      "She's a badass," Cassie says, and I become aware of her presence instantly. For a moment, Cassie leans in towards me and whispers, "Please jump her bones soon or the tension between you two is going to be responsible for the suffocation of everybody in a thirty-mile radius."

                      Before I can respond to that, Cassie is dragged away by the medic. My last glimpse of her: laughing eyes, a sliver of a smile, and shiny pink hair.

                     I swear she's her own person and that . . .

                     It's kind of scary. When she was a kid, she was mine. But now she's sixteen, and she's figuring out who she is.

                     I don't have time to think of it. Veah is suddenly in front of me, her voice gentle.

                    "I wish we had time to get you cleaned up," she says, "but . . ."

                    "But the Yakuza might send backup and we need to leave soon?"

                    "The airplane is already waiting for us," she says softly. "Are you good to go?"

                    "Yeah," I say. "Just―one last thing."

                    I search out Tommy's curly hair and piercing blue eyes in the crowd. At six foot four, he stands a head taller than anyone, and it's not hard to find him.

                   "Kaya?"

                   Before he has a chance to stop me―although I know he wouldn't, Tommy is a sucker for hugs―I throw my arms around him tightly and breathe in his pine scent.

                   He must know about me leaving, because he says, "You know, the way she looked when you didn't come back and everyone else did . . . she was willing to do anything for you. She'll take care of you . . . and you―" He lets out a laugh. "Your idiot ass definitely needs that."

                  "I'm adding another cinnamon bun to your apology list."

                  "I'm looking forward to it, and in the meantime?"

                   "Yeah?"

                   "Do me a favour and just make out with her in the back of some car. As soon as possible. You've got something going on."

                    The younger of Jude and Hunter's daughter―Kiara―is passing by, and just close enough to hear.

                    She grins devilishly. "Make out? You better fuck that girl, and hard. She's hot."

                    Like a devil summoned, Hunter appears with blazing eyes. "You did not just say what I think you did, young lady! You're fourteen!"

                    Before I can witness Hunter's terrifying rampage, Veah whisks me away―and I take one last look at the Underground.

                    There was no way I could know I'd never see it again.

                    When we get to the private landing strip, Veah opens the car door for me. Wincing when she sees my face.

                   "What? That bad?" I say, laying my fingertips over the sensitive skin of my forehead.

                    Veah just shakes her head wordlessly, helping me out of the taxi. She closes the door behind me, and the sky is bright with distant thunder. The storm that has been brewing for close to a week.

                    "Tokyo, huh?" I say weakly, as we board the plane.

                    "Tokyo," the pilot agrees. He looks vaguely familiar―

                    Veah leads me towards the back before I can take a closer look.

                    I've never been on an airplane before, and I think this is a bad time to mention it.

                    "I think I'm just going to sleep," I say weakly. "Maybe lay down a little . . ."

                    Veah's eyes widen. A reflection of the rain outside. "No!" she says sharply. "Your head injury. And . . . you're bleeding."

                    I am suddenly reminded of her bullet wound.

                    "Hey, that gunshot," I say. The world is spinning. "Did I sew it up okay?"

                   "You did perfect," she says, reclining me back. I hear the clatter of bandages and medicine bottles. "Swallow these."

                    I down the Tylenol in one shot. "You know, my sister said a funny thing . . ."

                    Why is my mouth still moving? Why am I still talking?

                    Don't you dare, Kaya. Don't you dare bring up that funny thing―

                    "Oh, yeah?" Veah murmurs, patting my wounds with a alcohol. "What's that?"

                    I hiss between my teeth at the sting.

                    "She said . . . that the tension between us . . . could suffocate anyone in a thirty-mile radius . . ."

                    Veah chuckles softly. Is the airplane moving? It might be.

                    Suddenly, I'm terrified. I clutch Veah's hand, focusing her attention there―and slowly, her eyes drift up to mine. Grey and lashed with ink black.

                    She is so, so beautiful.

                    I am attracted to her.

                    Fuck. I'm attracted her.

                    "She said I should jump your bones," I blurt out.

                    Veah blinks once, betraying none of the surprise she must feel. "Okay," she says, humming, and she bandages my stinging flesh.

                    "Okay?" Is this . . . is that . . . disappointment burrowing in my bones?

                    Is that all she has to say?

                    "Well," she continues, making a noncommittal voice in her throat. "Usually I wait until the fifth date to jump a girl's bones."

                    "The . . . fifth date?"

                    Get it together, Kaya. 

                     "You know, after we both get hunted down by the most dangerous crime syndicate in the world."

                     "Kiara said I should fuck you hard."

                     What is coming out of my mouth? 

                     I can't even muster the conscience to blush. Her fingertips graze lightly over my skin, eliciting a soft gasp. Her touch on me . . . it's strangely intimate.

                     "Really?" Veah murmurs. "She said that?"

                     "And that you were hot."

                     This time, she laughs softly.

                      Pressure begins to build, and for a moment I imagine it really is the tension between us. But then the seats begin to vibrate, and I feel―a sudden sickness, clutching my stomach.

                       "The plane," I breathe. "Is it taking off?"

                       Her eyes search mine. "Are you alright?"

                       "I've never been on a plane before," I admit. "I . . . I'm scared."

                       For a moment, I can't read her face. 

                       The sky outside the window begins to blur, and raindrops stream sideways across the glass. The gravel beneath the plane's wheels becomes a rocky sensation, rattling my teeth together.

                        I clutch both armrests. "We're going to die."

                       "Kaya," she says―and the way my name sounds on her tongue, I almost dissolve. I can't dissolve in front of a cute girl, that would be humiliating.

                        Humiliating―as if I've never embarrassed myself in front of her.

                        I squeeze my eyes shut. "I'm really not mentally prepared to die a second time today."

                       "What if I take you on a date when we get to the city?"

                        One eye cracks open. Is this a distraction? "A real date?"

                        "A real date," she assures me. "You can try makizushi and we can walk around the city. I'll show you my favourite places . . . we can explore Tokyo together."

                        I can already feel myself fading. The medicine is lulling me to sleep, but I hold on. 

                        I hold on because . . . because . . .

                        Because she's really fucking beautiful, and she saved my life―she has saved my life twice. Because we've spent the past week running from the rest of the world, chased by gun-toting hooligans and I think . . . I think I might understand her. I think I might really like her. And I think I might really, really want to jump her bones.

                        "We can visit the Imperial Palace," Veah continues, and my finger dig into the velvet harder. "And we can go see the Meiji shrine. There's a dessert called yukimi daifuku, and it's a mochi rice dumpling filled with ice cream. I think you'll love the city . . . you should see Tokyo at night. All the colours . . . the music, the people . . ."

                       "You really love it, don't you?" I manage to whisper.

                       I feel it when the pressure in the airplane reaches a climax. We are just about to take off into the sky―the plane is going to rise―my breath escapes me in a rush, my heart beating so fast I'm afraid it's going to grow its own wings and take off into the clouds, too―

                        I'm going to die. I'm going to die. I'm going to―

                       Veah reaches out. Cupping my face with her hand.

                       Every thought empties out of my head.

                       She tucks back a lock of my hair and says, "Let me tell you a story about the Mirror of Matsuyama."

                       Her voice is like a quiet caress, floating over me. And I let myself dissolve into her arms.

                      Once upon a time, there was a girl.

                      With only a touch of her fingers, this girl could find anything in the world. She could break any wall and defeat any dragon. She was a warrior, in her own way, and people from all over the universe came to find her.

                      For a long time, this girl was invisible. Until the day she snuck inside the palace, and she discovered the Kingdom. 

                      The king sent his army after her, afraid of what she had discovered. One soldier, a general of his army, was supposed to track her down. But when the general found the girl, it became obvious that she . . . she didn't know what she had found.

                       The girl had no idea what she had done.

                       She wasn't a rebel. She wasn't a spy. She was just a girl―a girl who hated running, a girl who loved breadsticks.

                       The general couldn't do what was asked of her. And now the king, and his secret Kingdom, were after both of them―

                       "Is that how it ends?" I whisper.

                       Veah hesitates. "I don't know how it ends."

                       "How about they escape the Kingdom and fly away on dragons, and live happily ever after?"

                       My eyes are closed, but I feel Veah's smile the same way I would feel sunlight, soaking into my veins. "That would be nice," she breathes. "If only the dragons were really dragons . . ."

                       What?  I try to say, but the word doesn't come out. 

                      Only as I begin descending into the dream do I realize the story had nothing to do with mirrors.

                       It's too late. I am already asleep.

                      I wake up to flashing red lights.

                      This is probably never a good sign. Even my common sense recognizes that.

                       Before I can ask what is going on, the plane shudders violently.

                       "It's just turbulence," the pilot assures us from the front, but he has to shout over the crash of metal and the shaking, grating sound of what will probably be my imminent death.

                        I realize why he looks so familiar.

                        Veah whispers, "I should have known."

                        "Everything is all good!" shouts the pilot from the front.

                        The lights shatter.

                         "Nothing to worry about!"

                         "Take this," Veah breathes, and she tosses me a heap of fabric. Clothes? Am I supposed to look good when I go to heaven?

                          "What's happening?" I say, that terrible fear seizing me.

                          Don't look outside. Don't look outside.

                          I look outside.

                          The windows are smeared with swirling rain. The sky brightens with thunder. Clouds wind tightly over the airplane, and I have the sudden feeling that we are all going to die. 

                          This doesn't feel like an I told you so moment.

                         Still, I can't bring myself to connect my thoughts.

                         To think of what this means.

                         Until Veah says, "This plane is going to crash."

                          Oh, I think. I might be about to faint. The first time I ever go on an airplane, and it's going to crash. This is lovely. 

                          "Put on your parachute," she orders, nodding to the heap of fabric. "We're going to jump."

                         "Now, don't be alarmed, ladies and gents. This is just some minor turbulence."

                         "Jump?"

                         "It's like skydiving. Have you ever wanted to try skydiving?"

                         "No!"  I scream.

                          "That's the spirit. Now, let's go!"

>>>

Hey hey hey, how is everybody doing on this lovely morning?

I am currently in religion class, and I should probably be listening to this documentary on martyrdom. But there's nothing quite like writing a lesbian Mafia story to make up for it, right?

From the moon and back,
Sarai