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The elevator doors opened.
The roof was nothing like the foyer the two had last met in. It was dimly lit. There was no perfectly spaced, sophisticated furniture. No rows of expensive swords. No wasps of pure gold adorning the walls.
Perhaps the roof was more honest to who the woman on the platform was.
“Thank you, Ruri-Ruri.” The woman purred. “I do appreciate the invitation.”
She began her descent.
“Feel like returning to the Organization?”
Ruriko matched her movements, moving towards the center of the roof.
“No. I feel like a fight.”
“Oh dear.” The other woman chuckled. “That’s a shame.”
She stopped at the bottom of the platform, not moving any closer to Ruriko.
“Up here on the roof, your bodyguard can’t pop in on his bike to save you.”
Six of the woman’s drones were arranged around her, forming a V to encompass Ruriko. The man in yellow stood behind them all.
“Doesn't it scare you? Going solo?”
“Of course I’m scared. But I’m always fully prepared. You should know, I believe in the man called Kamen Rider.”
For a brief moment, the woman’s face twisted into something ugly. Then the honey-sweet veneer was back.
“You can’t believe in people. In the end, they will betray you. That’s why we need people like me to keep them in line.” The woman gestured with one gloved hand, sweeping it over her entourage of drones.
Ruriko was silent.
The woman smiled.
“Of course, I’m sure you know that well. You are a traitor, after all.”
“I didn’t come here to talk.”
The woman cocked her head.
“Of course.” She straightened and smoothed out her kimono. “I apologize for my rudeness.”
She summoned the man in yellow to her side. Handed off her haori.
“I would be quite the poor host if I left you wanting.”
The man in yellow knelt, holding out a sleek katana. The woman freed one arm and drew it from its sheath. The man in yellow returned to his place. The drones stepped back. A straight line, a wall, behind her, standing perfectly still.
“You aren’t like me, Ruriko. Not anymore.” Hachi-Aug said. “I’m better than you. You can’t win.”
Ruriko’s hand slid into her coat.
“I’m going to make you cry. Make you beg for your life. And after that, I’ll take your toy and make you beg for his, too.”
BANG. BANG. BANG.
Hachi-Aug spun, the thin blade of her katana arcing around her in a perfect crescent as she leant backwards. It glinted as it caught the light of the moon above them. Six halves of three bullets clinked to the ground around her.
“Oh dear. You should know, guns don’t work on me.”
“They don’t need to work.”
Ruriko drew another pistol. She held one in each hand.
BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG.
The shots were swift yet careful, mindful of the civilians behind Hiromi. If any of the bullets hit their mark, they had no effect.
Hachi-Aug lunged forward. The first swing was diagonal, seamlessly cutting through the barrels of both of Ruriko’s guns. Ruriko dropped the guns the instant before the katana touched them, stumbling backwards with the wind that Hiromi’s unnaturally fast movement brought in its wake.
The second swing was aiming for Ruriko’s neck.
Hachi-Aug’s vision was blanketed in brown. She didn’t falter, carrying out the intended swing. It sliced through Ruriko’s coat, torn off and thrown into the air as a distraction. It fell to the ground gracelessly, crumpling onto itself in an ugly little pile.
Cold metal pressed against Hachi-Aug’s neck, recognizable even through the layers of fabric. A third gun.
Hachi-Aug’s katana slipped from her fingers. It fell, uncontrolled, clattering against the concrete.
“It’s over, Hiromi.”
“It’s barely begun.”
Hachi-Aug moved with speed unmatchable by a mere computational organism. Her right elbow slammed into Ruriko’s fingers with a crack, knocking the gun away. Her left foot slammed into Ruriko’s stomach, sending her flying. She slammed into the wall beside the elevator. Ruriko was left in only a black turtleneck and tight, black pants. She had more ammunition. She did not have more guns.
“That coat was disgusting. Brown isn’t your color, Ruri-Ruri. Yellow would suit you much better.”
She didn’t bother retrieving her sword. She advanced, predatory. She knelt in front of Ruriko’s battered form.
“We’re even now, “ she cooed. “Both of us without weapons.”
She grabbed Ruriko’s hair and yanked , pulling her face close. Blood dripped down Ruriko’s forehead.
“Have you had enough? This rebellion of yours is vulgar.” Her lips were so red and so falsely kind as she smiled.
“A world where people can’t make their own choices is just as vulgar.”
“You would think that, Ruri-Ruri. You just want to see people running around crazy, their emotions bare for all to see. Since you don’t have any of your own.”
The Habitat Realm, where one could tell no lies.
Hachi-Aug punched her. Blood spattered onto her glove. She didn’t let go of Ruriko's hair. Her head snapped, chunks of hair torn loose by the whiplash.
Ruriko licked the blood from her lips. Her eyes were dark.
Without warning she threw herself forward, forehead cracking into Hiromi’s, the weight of her body careening them backwards.
Hachi-Aug’s grip carried Ruriko down with her. Her other hand was pinned beneath her back. Ruriko snatched at her wrist with broken fingers, grip unerring. She pinned her hand above her head, knees tightening around Hiromi’s hips to keep her still. Hiromi’s pigtails were splayed around her on the concrete, the black strands frizzy and damp with sweat.
“That’s not what I want. You don’t know what I want.”
“Of course I don’t!” Hiromi spat. She was breathing heavily. “You won’t tell me. Wouldn’t tell me. You didn’t even tell me you were leaving.”
She managed to get one leg free, tearing at the seams of her kimono. She flipped them, pressing Ruriko into the ground.
“You would have stopped me.”
“You could have asked me to come with you.”
Her hands went for Ruriko’s neck.
“I just did.” She wheezed.
“You didn’t ask then .”
“You would have said no.”
Ruriko’s elbows and knees were relentless as she writhed beneath her. It was enough to bruise her in this form.
“You don’t know that.”
“I know.” Ruriko’s eyes met hers. Her face was smeared with blood and grime, but her expression was nonchalant. As if she wasn’t moments away from being choked to death.
Hiromi had no retort to that, because Ruriko was right.
“You still could have asked.” She knew her voice was wobbly now. “Then maybe I would have known you cared.”
She tightened her grip. Ruriko’s attempts at escape weakened.
“If you had stayed they could have helped you. Enhanced you, too. You wouldn’t be so weak right now.”
“I am not weak. I wanted to find my own answers. To find the meaning of real happiness. That is not weak.” Her voice was barely a whisper now. Her face was still blank, pale now, white as a ghost.
“I’m going to kill you. You’re going to die.” Hiromi said it like it was a command, leaning in so close she could feel Ruriko’s shallow breath on her face, tickling her lips. “How about some tears? You still have time to beg.”
Hiromi squeezed, squeezed so tight it felt like her fingers would break skin, would touch Ruriko’s blood and flesh and bones in a tantalizing intimate way. Ruriko would bend to her will.
“I won’t die.” Ruriko’s voice was so faint. “Not here. Not yet.”
“Your bodyguard isn’t going to save you. Nobody except me is going to save you.” Her pigtails dangled, framed Ruriko’s face, the strands against her cheek moving as Hiromi spoke, a facsimile of a caress. “You just have to ask. Tell me you want to serve me. To obey me. Tell me you won’t leave me alone again. Tell me, Ruri-Ruri! ”
There was no answer. Ruriko was still. The world slowed down, froze for a staggering moment. A moment where Ruriko was gone, truly gone, and Hiromi was truly alone.
Hiromi tore herself away from Ruriko like she was on fire, like the very feel of her scorched through her layers of clothing and her inhuman skin and right to her soul. She was panting, eyes darting around wildly. She was glad her drones could only see her back.
The world unfroze.
Ruriko took in a long, rattling breath. Her eyes found Hiromi’s as she pulled herself to her feet, one halting movement at a time, until she was braced against the wall, barely standing.
“I won’t die here.” She said, “Because you won’t kill me.”
And then there was an explosion, and her drones were gone, and that Kamen Rider that Ruriko had chosen to believe in was between them.
“Surrender. For Ruriko-san’s sake, too.’” He said.
The woman sneered.
“That angle is going to backfire. I just want to make Ruriko cry.”