“Silly assassin.”
They finish assembling.
Forty-nine white-clad figures. Blades gleaming. Formation perfect.
I stand alone in the center of the atrium, katana in hand, my bag abandoned behind me, a body cooling at my feet.
“Well,” I say, watching them settle, feeling the space close in. “Looks like all forty-nine of you came.”
I draw a slow breath, flick the blood from the blade, and settle into a two-handed grip.
“All right,” I murmur. “Let’s get started.”
They move as one.
And the ninety-second floor becomes a killing ground.
My… killing ground.
They surround me.
Not sloppy. Not frantic. A perfect ring of white and steel, blades catching the light as they angle inward. I turn slowly, deliberately, taking them in one by one. Faces calm. Focused. Reflected back at me in the polished curve of the katana I stole from their dead sister.
Then they move.
From everywhere.
Katanas stab and slash in controlled arcs, steel whispering past my throat, my ribs, my spine. I stay light on my feet, cutting as I dodge, dodging as I cut, never letting myself be still long enough to be pinned. An arm comes off at the elbow. A wrist follows. Someone screams as their sword clatters uselessly to the floor.
I keep them moving. Keep the circle unstable.
A blade whistles toward my head from behind.
I drop into a deep backbend, spine arcing impossibly as the katana sweeps through empty air inches above my face. From that position, I swing blind, trusting muscle memory.
Three women behind me open up at once, red blooming across their torsos.
I snap upright and drive my blade forward, burying it in the chest of the woman directly in front of me. She gasps. Falls.
I don’t follow her down.
I pivot, grab a silver fork off a nearby table, and turn just as another Onryo rushes me.
I ram the fork straight into her eye.
Wet resistance. Then give.
She screams, high and raw, staggering back as I yank the fork free. Her eyeball comes with it, stretching obscenely before snapping loose.
I don’t give her time to process it.
I sweep her ankles out from under her and chase her to the ground. Her head cracks against the marble hard enough to echo through the atrium.
She tries to scream again.
I drive the fork into her mouth as hard as I can, pinning her jaw open, forcing the ruined eye back into her throat.
She chokes.
