Page 105 of Dragon 7

I searched around for the Fangs and Claws and caught a flash of pink hair through the smoke.

Okay. Kaoru is still alive. Thank you.

Then, I captured a gleam of white and swinging hooked braids taking men out through the dust.

Rin.

But Toma. I could not see Toma. The all-red assassin had been on the right side of the field where the first explosion went off.

A shudder of fear ran through me.

Where is he? Come on.

I had lost Daisuke too and had no way to find him in this smoke.

Please be okay. If you two turn into ghosts. . .then. . .that might be the end of me. . .

Kaede was near the plane’s stairs, battling with Mr. White. The staircase had just warped from the blast.

Yoichi was a streak of gold in the center, tearing men apart with his bare hands. Blood coated his fingers and arms. His silver fang charm glowed bright in the moonlight, something I’d never seen happen to him before.

Where is Satoshi?

For some odd reason, thinking of him made me wonder about the gifts that he’d gotten Nyomi’s grandmother.

I should have asked what he got? Just. . .in case. . .

I shook my head.

No. Don’t think that way. He’ll live and then I’ll find out.

The most fucked up thing about war was death, and the fact that war always left scars that outlasted the battles.

I looked again for Toma, Daisuke, and Satoshi, and then a memory rose before I could stop it—the Claws Cocktail Party. The whole ballroom lit up with that beautiful massive dragon’s claw hovering over us.

The music and food.

The enticing smells.

And we had danced.

My Claws and me.

The six of us.

Orphans of madness.

With fathers who brutally beat us, mothers who did not want to protect us, houses where unsurvivable trauma lived in the walls.

We became each other's family because our actual families were broken in ways that could not be repaired.

We did our best to love each other, even though we didn’t know how. We turned into men that. . .were ruthless. . .vicious. . .wrong. . .but still yearning for. . .warmth in the coldness of life.

And I thought of the way Nyomi loved us so much. She didn’t have to do all of that. I’d asked for a party, not a celebration of us that rang down to our bones and shook our souls.

Not a true undeniable symbol that we were so loved.

So cherished.