Page 24 of Cherry Moon

He’d even gone off to find me some grub.

Bless his cotton socks to the stars and back.

Now awake, I sat on a double bed in the windowless room. A place of bare gray walls, a cold resin floor, and a few books on a single bookshelf. Oh, and a tall lamp beside the bed.

I pulled my knees up to my chin, thinking, the second crayon still intact, resting between my flesh fingers like a cigarette. Trying to keep a level head.

Damn. This felt overly familiar, reminding me of being under SCU lockdown in that hospital in Shinjuku City.

At least there’d been a window there.

Missing the Cherry Moon sucked greasy camel balls. So did hiding, cowering from the demons of this world.

I’d rather be shitting a brick and twirling a sword than hanging around waiting for the next wave of shite to hit.

My katanas are gone…

I chewed my bottom lip, keeping my anger on hold. It wanted out, to rage and burn at the injustice of this shit.

The mazoku wouldn’t have me or my life. Absolutely pissing not. I’d come too far for them to mess this up.

“I won’t stay hidden for long,” I said. “Mark my words.”

But how to fight back? And what the hell was this thing about The Nine? They sounded fun.

Not.

Ugh. My head. There were people on the case, but that didn’t help me in the here and now. I wanted to get out there on my motorbike, Cindy, and go hunting. With new katanas, slicing, dicing, stabbing.

You miss that life…

“It’s my blood,” I vocalized.

Shit. I guess it was. But how hot did it burn? I might have the craving to smash some faces in right now, but what about the tug in the more peaceful direction? That counted for something, a much better fit for the new me.

“I don’t wanna lose anything,” I whispered.

I’m gonna lose him…

I’m gonna lose everything.

Great. I loved being a hot pot for conflicting emotions.

Where the hell were the glacé cherries? A whole tub and a massive mug of coffee would sort my head out. Throw in a cupcake or two, and I’d be right as rain.

For like ten minutes.

I blew out breath, my lips rippling. My pits were a bit pongy, my scalp itchy from sweat.

Shower time. There was bathroom attached to this room with towels, and spare clothes G had packed for us before the SCU whisked us away from the cottage.

“Come on, stinky.” I swung my legs off the bed. Maybe being clean would clear the way for some actual ideas and not this whining bullshit rolling around in my head.

I stripped, getting under the hot spray and lathered up with the minty shower gel, the kind to make your balls get the cold tingle from the eucalyptus.

“Akira…”

I froze, the voice like fingers on the back of my neck.