"Oii, Sougo, could ya go patrol Kabuki-cho?"

"Haa? Hijikata-san, the crime rate's been lower than ever recently, why-"

"That's precisely why you need to go check. What even was the last 'major' crime around these parts? Shoplifting a parfait? Harassing an idol?"

"To be exact, he claimed that he was 'protecting' her from crazy fans but, well, can't this wait until tomorrow, Hijikata-san? It's already dusk…"

"I'm almost certain that someone is out hunting down criminals and something like that would be done at night. I need you to find that person or persons and bring them in for interrogation."

"Ugh, but One Park's being aired soon-"

"Sougo if you don't go, I'll burn all those VCRs of One Park."

Although he figured he could fight, both Okita and Hijikata knew quite well that it would be much more of a hassle to fight than to just patrol. After all, it was a long day. Okita grumbled but slid out of the Shinsengumi building. Of course, not before emptying all the mayonnaise into the trash.

Night was approaching on its ebony stallions until they were whipped back for being underage in the red-light district. Kabuki-cho, the blinking owl or the student studying for exams the next day, came to life the moment the sun set. Courtesans cooed and beckoned with slender, snaky arms. Brawls began to roll out into the dusty streets, cheering and gambling occurring side by side. Rowdy roars of laughter spilled through the windows as the drunk became drunker and wine poured and poured. It was chaotic and the nightlife was flourishing and yet something, something, seemed off.

Okita rolled his eyes as courtesans began shrilly calling for him. As a legal adult, he had met a decidedly painful annoyance in reaching twenty-three. Sure, he could understand full well that he was attractive and all, but they were all the same anyway. Only Justaways with more make-up but with the same alarm-clock shriek.

He ducked into the cool alleys, where the heat and neon blazing like the summer sun was shadowed. He sighed in relief until he stiffened. He closed his eyes. Although faint, he could clearly smell the trace of exactly what was missing in Kabuki-cho for the past few months.

The cloy of decaying flesh and metallic blood.

His eyes snapped open, and he slithered through the damp alleyway. His crimson eyes flickered darkly as the scent became stronger and stronger, until it was like the breath of a sated vulture.

He sharply turned a corner and ended up at a dead end. He took a breath sharply. Upon piles and piles of carcasses stood one silhouette. The dead bodies beneath it squish-squashed, the latest one still spurting blood from its ears, the one at the bottom open-mouthed with stark white maggots writhing within. It was nauseating, even for Okita.

The shadow, or rather, the woman, staggered from her hellish altar. She had a glassy expression as she stared at him. Guts were splattered across her clothes and her hair, a hair so red it was a river of glossy blood. She stared down at her umbrella with a confused expression, unsure of the humans it just impaled. Unsure of the justice she just wielded.

She was beautiful in the way a lion leaps on the back of a screaming gazelle. She was beautiful in the way a shark paints its fangs red. She was beautiful in the way that she was forbidden and surreal. To live to die, a life short-lived, a handmaiden to what creeps in the shadows.

The umbrella dropped with a clatter on the slick cement.

Justice.

Mercy.

Beauty.

Hideous.

Life.

...