Through the Dragon's Eyes

Chapter Three || Correlation

The sky begins to darken with the setting sun, city nightlife beginning to come alive. The industrial structures block the orange glow from the horizon, already making it seem it is way later than reality. Neon lights highlight the perimeter of your person as you lean back against the wall with arms crossed next to a ramen restaurant, a large alien mascot hovering above you, it's LED lights buzzing annoyingly. You need to know if there's truly merit to the wraith's words. Down the street is a large wooden gate, two sets of large wooden doors with a large symbol carved upon the center where they meet. Two dragons swirling in an ouroboros style, mouths open as if they're engulfing the tail of the other in a never ending cycle.

At the sides of each doorway stand guards. The same uniforms you saw last time. They hold pulse rifles that cut through the darkness with an accenting glow. They seem to be talking to each other across the way. You can hear their voices over the city ambiance, but just barely. Your mind snaps back to how you were told these people own this estate now and your chest fills with fire.

Like hell they do.

Turning your head to look straight ahead, your eyes shut for a moment. You take a deep breath. So far, it seems superficial. You have no idea how deep this goes. However, it's your specialty to be able to find out. Your eyes snap open. Making sure you have the crowds to use to your advantage, you slink away from the ramen shop. Slipping behind it, you pull up a mask over your mouth and nose, becoming enveloped in the darkness of the small alley.

Climbing up to a platform at the shops roof, you stay concealed, your actions practically silent. You hop over to the next building, gripping onto the railing and hauling yourself into a wall climb to reach it's top. You get low, feeling the arrows in your quiver shift quietly with your movement. Staying on the high ground, you path your way into the estate via a back wall, finding yourself entering a yard with a pagoda standing center, surrounded by out of season sakura trees.

There's more guards patrolling throughout. Your plan is not to attack them and draw attention to your existence, but just to observe. You expertly sit out of sight and listen to conversation between them, observe the atmosphere and any changes you can catch. They speak of supplies, weapons, more incoming recruits, nothing you haven't heard before.

You hear some speak ill of the city's people, making fun of how they're practically just able to step all over them. How weak they are. This fills you with rage. One of your clans purposes was to protect the very people these motherfuckers insult. If looks could kill, your gaze would have slit their throats wide open.

This infestation has grown. There's more soldiers. Seems your last visit might have rustled them. They've started increasing defense. Though, that can't be all. Your eyes scan about the area. The way some groups carry or drag loads of boxes with large painted numbers, groups of six or more soldiers marching about and commands flying left and right makes it quite clear. The estate has become a base of operations. You mentally curse at yourself, anger continuing to ache in your core. Making sure there's an opening in patrol, you shift your position, quietly flinging yourself across to the roof of a bridge leading to a side entry to the shrine room.

Landing as quietly as possible, you remain on the opposite side of the sloped roof, keeping low and holding on with one hand. Trailing it all the way to the shrine building itself, you press against the wall and listen. There's a patrol passing underneath you. Once their stomping footsteps recede, you shift your sight to the ground below, taking your opportunity to swing down over the short barrier and sneak inside.

You instantly make your way into the rafters, kneeling down on a large wooden support beam and scaling across it to position upon the back wall near the ceiling. The large mural of two dragons, one green, one blue on the opposite wall feel as if they're staring into your soul, despite their gaze not even looking your direction.

You sit in wait, not a single sound nor movement emitting from your person. It's several minutes of silence, sharp gaze cutting over the room like a predator searching for prey. Then, what you were looking for emerged from behind the mural wall followed by a few more lackeys. Someone that looked different from the soldiers that litter your home. In fact, someone familiar.

The Wraith.

Your eyes locking onto him, a metallic clawed hand raises with a finger extended outwards in indication, the deep, gravelly voice easily distinguished as it barks a command to the soldiers tailing him. They acknowledge his direction, splitting to continue walking ahead through the entry beneath you. He turns to his right, walking with his long black coat billowing behind to exit to a large outside balcony. You scale above to follow.

Once you reach outside, still keeping high ground, you see the man stop a few feet from the balcony, raising a hand up to the side of his head to ping his communicator. About a minute later, there's a rumble in the distance. It grows louder and stronger, almost vibrating the very environment around you. From overhead, a dropship cuts into view, turning for the door to face the balcony. The door is painted with the same symbol the armor of the soldiers have. It looks almost like the zodiac symbol of Aries, more formed into the letter T in a blood red color and pointed edges.

The door hisses open slowly. Once the entry is revealed, the wraith swirls into a black cloud, disappearing from sight before reappearing almost out of the ground in the same black haze just inside the ship, striding out of sight as the door pulls up to close behind him, the billowing of the hover jet engines rumbling in your chest as the transport hauls away.

Once the transport leaves your view, you inhale deeply. He was right. Seeing it for yourself all but confirmed that it seems your clan is no more. The realization that you may as well be the very last standing Shimada hits you like a truck and you take a few steps to the side, your back hitting the wall. You remain this way for several minutes until your trance is broken by a crack of light in the sky, a low rumble following it.

A storm is coming.

With a huff, you push yourself off the wall, returning the same way you came to exit back into the city, replacing yourself into the bustle, which now has begun to react accordingly to the incoming weather. Some have retreated inside, others ready umbrellas at their sides or pull up jacket hoods. Wind begins to rush between the skyscrapers, shifting anything loose and light enough to be bothered by it's increasing force.

You return to the alleyway you had your encounter to find the silver disk has not moved from where you left it. You scrape it up, placing it in your hip bag along with the generator fuse. The metals clink together softly as you drop it inside, belting the bag closed once more, then rising your face to the sky as another lightning strike splits it open, this time, a louder boom tailing it by only a few seconds. At this rate, you won't make it back to your shelter on the outskirts of the city. You're stuck in Hanamura until morning. You can't go back to your shelter even if you weren't about to be stormed in, anyways.

You aren't stupid. You're certain this disk is also some sort of tracking device, or at least has the capability, hence why you left it to confirm your suspicions before making this decision. Taking the damn thing means the start of having a beacon on you at all times, effectively pulling you out of hiding. The decision is made to sit at the table and play cards with Talon. You've seen and done it time and time again while your father was still alive, learning to copy his every move. Repeat his every word. Now, it's your turn to truly dance with the devil. It's your turn to draw an arrow to it's face.