I take the opening when it comes, drive forward instead of back, and kill the first with a brutal upward slice that splits collarbone. The second dies a heartbeat later, blade buried under her ribs. The third tries to recover.
She doesn’t get the chance.
I run.
A white banner hangs from the ceiling nearby, impossibly long, heavy fabric meant to impress investors. I jump, catch it in both hands, and don’t slow.
I hit the banister at a run and vault, swinging out into open air.
For half a second, I’m weightless.
Then I let go.
I slam into the opposite walkway feet-first, using the momentum to kick the first Onryo square in the chest. She flies backward over the rail, arms pinwheeling, and hits a table two stories below with a wet, final crack.
Her neck bends at an angle no living thing survives.
I land, turn, and snap the banner around another woman’s throat before she can react. I shove her toward the edge and lean my weight into it, wrapping fabric tight, tighter, until her hands claw uselessly at it.
I push.
She goes over.
The banner jerks violently as she dangles, feet kicking, fingers scrabbling for purchase that isn’t there. I hold until her body goes slack, then let the fabric slide free and watch her fall.
I don’t wait.
Four more rush me.
I meet them head-on.
Blade flashes. Bone breaks. One goes down screaming with her arm nearly severed. Another takes a thrust through the sternum and collapses into her. A third lands a slice across my side as she passes me.
It’s deep.
I feel it immediately. Heat. Wetness. The pull of torn muscle.
Good.
Pain sharpens everything.
I kill her with a backhand slash that takes her throat open, then finish thelast with a pommel strike that drops her to her knees before I drive my sword down through her spine.
Silence crashes down around me.
Bodies litter the walkway. Blood slicks the stone. The banner sways gently above, stained now, heavier than before.
I reach down and pick up the katana that cut me, feeling its balance, its bite.
One sword in each hand.
I turn toward the stairs.
They’re gathered there now, the remaining Onryo, standing at the top step, blades held low, watching me from below like they’re studying an equation they almost understand.
I plant my feet at the edge of the walkway, blood dripping from my side, chest heaving, both swords raised.
“Come on,” I murmur. “Let’s finish this up.”
