Gekijo decided it was time to go back to Japan. Freeing his daughter was a Shinto problem and he would find a Shinto solution. The torso section of the armor was back with the metalworker, the craftsman who had made the other modifications and was now adding the hinging back features. When it was finished, Gekijo would pack it all up and get on the next flight. He and Carlos tussled a small drug ring and Gekijo had money again.

He did not tell the others he was leaving. His mind drifted to Quinn, but he decided to pay him the mind of a pesky fly - he would swat him if he came too near, but would not bother to hunt him down. Soon he would not be there any longer, and he was not even sure he would find Quinn if he looked. Gekijo received a text message from Sweet Atlanta which asked simply, "Have you seen Quinn?" If she did not know where he was then who would?

"No. Not for a few days," was what Gekijo texted back. Sweet Atlanta called him instantly.

"That's about how long he's been gone for. I'm worried about him. When did you last see him?" Sweet Atlanta did not at that moment sound overly concerned, but her voice was always cool and calm, and when she said "worried" it was possible she actually was.

"Why do you care, really?" Gekijo asked. "Quinn is millennia old but acts like a child. Honestly I would be fine to never see him again."

"Oh, that bad, huh? What did you say to him?" Sweet Atlanta asked.

"The truth," Gekijo said.

There was silence on the other end. After a moment Gekijo said, "Atlanta?" He wasn't sure she was still there. He checked his phone and it said the call had ended.

A few days later the armor was finished. The back plates functioned exactly as Gekijo wanted them. Practicing with the wings was painful but so were many things Gekijo had done in his life.

He had been doing much training with the kitsune. It was a powerful and living being, and a treacherous one too, inside that blade, an element that was both a challenge and an advantage. He had made it clear to the kitsune that the goal was to utilize its power within the blade, to work in tandem with his swordsmanship, to become two parts of a weapon without rival. The kitsune demonstrated that such an arrangement was tenuous, and on many occasions played with Gekijo, by swaying away from the intended arc, pushing against him, or attempting to leap from his hands. Gekijo used this to train himself further still. He knew he would not get perfect obedience from the kitsune, even if he told it that was what he expected.

The armor was the final element. He had been training with the incomplete set, but now that it was all ready he did more training sessions in full gear. The armor moved perfectly, the work of the finest craftsmanship. The kitsune even stopped fooling with him so much. Gekijo admitted to himself that he was quite a sight, and the fox demon it seemed had found something like respect, or at least appreciation.

He had a crate prepared and was packing in the various pieces when he got another phone call from Sweet Atlanta. He had a plane ticket purchased for the next day. He was going. He looked at his phone for a moment. It was still ringing. He picked it up.

"Hello," he said.

"Um, hi, Gekijo, so I am out shopping right now and I think I'm being followed."

Gekijo stood up. "Do you have an idea who it might be?"

"No, I don't recognize anything about him. We have so many enemies, it could be anyone, really. He's still there, probably eighty feet away right now."

"Don't hang up, tell me where you are exactly, I'm coming."

Sweet Atlanta kept talking as Gekijo made his way to her location. She confessed to him that she felt strange now with Quinn gone for over a week. "Sure he's a twerp but he's my twerp," was what she said. Gekijo did not understand but kept this to himself. She went on, she had been out on her own for a while when she first met him, at a seedy uptown club, and they instantly recognized each other for what they were. It was an angel and a demon, finding each other in Earth's version of hell. There were many times after that when he would leave for a day or two, but he always came home. Sick or high or exhausted, like a sad little puppy.

"I just don't know where he could have gone. You know, maybe something finally happened to him?"

Gekijo thought this was a wasteful thing to be worried about, but didn't express this. He asked instead that Sweet Atlanta focus on the stalker.

"I'm watching him," she said. "I could probably even just take him out. Something about it feels weird, though. I wonder what he's waiting for."

"He's waiting until you're alone," said Gekijo, "Which you will make sure not to be until I get there."

Sweet Atlanta was walking down a fairly busy street now. Gekijo could see the man following behind her - there were a number of people on the sidewalk to pick him out from, but his behavior was so blatant that he stuck out, staring rigidly at her the whole time, hands tucked in the pockets of his dark blue hoodie.

"Alright, I see you," said Gekijo.

"Where are you?" she asked.

"Nearby. There's an alley ahead to your left. Stop near the entrance, look around like you're looking for the right place and then head down the alley."

"Right," she said, and did exactly as he had directed.

Gekijo slid down the end of a fire escape behind the guy as he followed Sweet Atlanta into the alley, but then the guy was running at her. Gekijo realized too late that his timing was off somehow - this guy was too fast. He ran after him and Sweet Atlanta turned around, stone-faced. The guy grabbed at her and she ducked. Gekijo felt a pang of emotion. He was - offended, mostly, but the tinge of apprehension was there. He dropped the sheath and held out the katana, the kitsune yipped and Gekijo measured distance expertly, but then Sweet Atlanta dumped the guy over on his side, her right hand and the knife she was holding covered in blood.

Gekijo stopped. He realized that in his rush and, yes, the apprehension, and the heat of vengeance for this unknown actor, the wings had released from his shoulders, spread out fully in front of Sweet Atlanta.

She stared at Gekijo, with a man bleeding out at her feet. "Well, that's new," she said.

Gekijo felt embarrassed, for the lack of self-control, and other reasons he could not name. This wasn't like him, and embarrassment was not a feeling he was accustomed to. He pulled the wings back in to his back.

"Not a word to Quinn," he said. Sweet Atlanta mimed locking her lips and throwing away the key. "Or Carlos either," he continued. She nodded.

Gekijo checked the body but found nothing. It was odd. Who walked around without a cell phone or wallet? They were far in the alley, and decided just to leave the dead man there.

"I wonder what that was all about," Sweet Atlanta said as they walked on.

"Possibly just a strung-out creep," said Gekijo. There were plenty of those in New York; and Sweet Atlanta was... more than a man could ask for.

He leaned in close to her. "So, do you have wings?"

"Every time a bell rings," she said with a smile. He didn't ask her what she meant.

Gekijo fucked Sweet Atlanta that afternoon. She was sweaty and clung to him. It was a cold November day and the windows were closed, the bed coverings bundled around them. Sweet Atlanta had tossed aside her silver visor, it was the last thing she took off. For the first time Gekijo was staring into her eyes, and what he saw there was not what he expected. Sweet Atlanta was tough, she was hard, she was a killer, but in her pale blue eyes there was a lostness, a weakness - she was adrift at sea, alone even in company, afraid of something she couldn't put a name on. Maybe it was just herself. He understood now why she always wore the visor. In her face she could hold the firmest expression or the deepest ennui, but her eyes gave everything away. She was, under it all, a lost and broken girl.

It had started quickly. They had walked back to Gekijo's apartment building, and then out on the sidewalk she grabbed his hand. Suddenly they were pulling each other up the fire escape, and in through the window to the hall outside his door; her lips were already on his before they got inside. Outside his bedroom, she had put her hand to her mouth - she was bleeding slightly, from Gekijo's jagged teeth. He realized his lips and tongue were bleeding as well. They didn't stop.

Gekijo could not have said he'd ever felt love for a woman before, not really, but holding Sweet Atlanta then was finding himself, finding her. She was a deep cool pond he dipped his fevered body into. The changes, could he say he was even human anymore? She was not, certainly, and in this consummation more things were completed for him than one.

Gekijo got up and stood by the side of the bed. She put her hand out and he held it in his, her soft skin against the thick horn of his claws. She did have wings, after all, which she displayed for him with the soft wryness of her smile. They were glistening things, pearlescent ethereal shimmers extending out from both sides of her, not like the fleshy bestial ones he had. He was jealous of the elegance - they achieved the analogous, albeit opposite, effect of his without the physical obtrusiveness. Then she tugged on his hand and they did it again.

Sweet Atlanta took a shower, while Gekijo sat on the edge of the bed, wrapped in a sheet. He thought of the plane ticket. 3pm tomorrow, out of JFK, stopping in Atlanta, then LA, and then Tokyo.

Maybe he should postpone the flight.

Maybe she would come with him.

Maybe he really needed to deal with Quinn, once and for all. Quinn was not really gone. He would return, this was a certain thing.

When they had pushed into the bedroom, in the rush and urgency of the moment, he had not thought to leave the katana outside, and the kitsune was now blatantly and graphically critiquing Gekijo's performance, while Tamashi gasped and giggled. He was about to chide them both, but his thoughts were suddenly and inexplicably swept to the lamppost. A pain flared up in his left arm, lancing through every spot he had ever cut to gain entrance. Something was wrong.

Sweet Atlanta emerged from the shower, wrapped in a towel, rubbing her arm, where hot red marks were showing. "Something's wrong," she said.

Her phone on the floor buzzed once. Gekijo picked it up and handed it to her. It was a text message from Quinn. It said only "something's wrong", and then another buzz: "it's the lamppost".

"Have you gotten other messages from him?" Gekijo asked.

"No, this is the first since he left," she said. She called but it went to voicemail. A moment later her phone rang. It was Quinn calling her back. She picked it up.

"Where have you been?" she said. She listened for a moment. "You are in such big trouble." Couple's banter. Gekijo darkened dangerously. Sweet Atlanta gave him an apologetic look and then turned around.

"Doctor and Bones would still be down there," she said. Gekijo was only hearing her side of the conversation. "I haven’t seen Gekijo today but I spoke to him yesterday, he didn't go anywhere. I'll call him. And Carlos." Another pause as she listened. "Well you're the one who just disappeared!"

Gekijo's phone buzzed as well. A message from Carlos. He ignored it for now.

"You don't know that." Sweet Atlanta's voice was raised. "Well if he figured it out-" she waited. "If Gekijo did that we'll find out pretty fast won't we."

Another message came from Carlos. He wanted to know what was happening. Gekijo quickly typed "hold on I'll call" and sent it.

Sweet Atlanta was in the living room. "Well that's definitely your fault," she said. Gekijo followed her. She was twirling her hair with one hand in agitation. "No, don't say that. I'm coming right now." Another pause. "Yes!" And then, "Ok, see you soon." She hung up.

"If I did what?" Gekijo asked.

"I don't know," Sweet Atlanta sighed. "He's probably just high." She was prevaricating. Gekijo was unsettled.

"So are you going to play Quinn and I off each other, then?" he asked.

She slumped down onto his sofa. "No. I mean, you guys already hate each other," she said lamely.

The red marks were still showing brightly on both her arm and his. "What does this mean? What do we do?" he asked.

"It means... I think the lamppost broke. I don't know, we need to go there and find out what's happening. It's bad, whatever it is. We need to get Bones and Doctor out of the Den."

"If it broke, how could it have happened?"

"I don't know, Gekijo. I'm just speculating." Sweet Atlanta was rubbing her face, deeply distraught. She was lying to him.

Gekijo thought of the man from earlier. How fast he ran, how easily he died, and his anonymity. He thought of Sweet Atlanta tossing off her visor, and the stories her eyes told. He thought of the taste of her blood intermingling with his own. He thought of Quinn's disappearance, and his promise of vengeance.

He called Carlos. "What's going on, man?" Carlos asked hectically. "I was sleeping on the couch and then I had this crazy nightmare with the lamppost looming over me, and I woke up and my arm was on fire and all my cuts are blowing up!"

"I think we are being led into a trap," said Gekijo, "the nature of which I do not know. Sweet Atlanta and I are going to the lamppost to investigate. I need you to come as well but keep a distance. Stay about one or two blocks away, but be ready, and keep a sharp watch. If Quinn arrives assume him to be hostile first, even if he acts friendly. Stay away, do not engage him unless he is threatening."

"Ok, man, I'll be there," and Carlos hung up.

Sweet Atlanta was getting dressed. Gekijo looked to his suit of armor. This was the time. He put it on piece by piece.

"I don't think Quinn did this. He's freaking out, too," Sweet Atlanta said.

"I will have to take your words at face value, since you seem to be unwilling to disclose all that you know." He was looking right at her. She had the visor back on. She was all business.

"That armor is not very stealthy," she said.

"It is not for stealth. It is for commanding. It is for commanding in every situation." Gekijo stood up to his full height, then placed a hand on the katana hilt. Sweet Atlanta flinched, taking just the slightest step back.

"Let's go," he said.

It was already dark out. Sweet Atlanta found a cab idling on the side of the street and climbed in. Without a word Gekijo got in after her.

"Hey, uh, buddy," the cab driver said, turning around to look at him. "There some kinda comic book party in town?"

"Yes," Gekijo said. He stared the cabbie down, who looked away quickly. "Sheesh," he said. Sweet Atlanta gave him an address; it was an address about a block away from her apartment, near the lamppost's current location.

"It's a pretty impressive rig, what you got there, is all I'm saying," the cabbie said as they made their way. "Like you just stepped outta a movie. Is there a contest, you gonna win a prize?"

"I plan to win tonight, yes," said Gekijo.

"Well best of luck," the cabbie said. "And who are you supposed to be?" he asked Sweet Atlanta. "An X-Men? Or someone from the Matrix, maybe?"

Sweet Atlanta was dressed like Sweet Atlanta. She had on her silver visor, and the tight white leather jacket she had been wearing that morning, with a matching pair of white leather gloves. Gekijo remembered blood stains from the stalker, but noted that the garments were all impeccably clean again.

"I'm an angel," she said.

"Heh, you sure are," said the cabbie, huffing a quick laugh, but he quickly went serious again, staring straight ahead, just driving. "You got any wings for that angel costume? You don't mind me saying, you look more like you're ready for a fight than blessing anybody."

"Some angels are hunters," Sweet Atlanta said.

"Oh sure, I saw a movie like that. Constantine, right? Yeah, that's the one. Well, this is where you want to get out." He pulled over to the curb. The area had a number of tall apartment buildings and high-class hotels. There was probably a party happening somewhere around there.

Sweet Atlanta paid and they got out.

"You guys have a nice night. Don't kill nobody," the cabbie said, then he drove away.

They walked the rest of the way, taking a shortcut through an alley. Someone on a balcony saw Gekijo and videoed him walking by on his phone. Only in New York, right? Gekijo noted the idle attention but continued - it was only a distraction, not a malevolence.

Quinn had gotten sick of crawling through the subway back corridors and had moved the lamppost back to an above-ground location. It was now just outside of a utilitarian facility less than a block from his apartment. Didn't Quinn realize a place like this would surely have cameras? What a fool. They were not yet near its location, where it was situated was behind a bend; they wouldn't be able to see it until they were right on it.

Gekijo scanned the environment. He was checking the shadows, looking out for eyes, any kind of set-up. Sweet Atlanta might be the set-up. She was silent, moving with him, looking around. The lamppost was just ahead. It felt - dreadful, like a dark heavy weight in the air as they approached. What had happened to it?

Sweet Atlanta's gun was drawn. Gekijo had his hand on the hilt of the kitsune blade. He could see that she was shaking slightly. He realized also that the two cameras nearby were dead. Well, maybe Quinn knew something at least. He signaled to her how he wanted to round the corner. It involved a sweep of all angles, but he made sure his back would not be turned to her. He wanted to trust her but survival wouldn't let him. She hadn't answered any of his questions.

He motioned with his finger and they moved. Sweet Atlanta was supposed to cover the angles of the walkway with her pistol but she didn't. The moment they turned the corner she stopped, and lowered her gun.

"Oh God," she said.

The lamppost was dark. It hadn't been dark once since Gekijo had first seen it, day or night.

"Fuck!" she exclaimed.

"What is it, what does this mean?" Gekijo asked. He was once again exasperated when she didn't answer his question despite obviously knowing. Sweet Atlanta leaned against the nearest wall.

"Motherfucker," she said softly.

"Sweet Atlanta, are you going to explain to me what this is all about?"

But Sweet Atlanta said nothing. She was rubbing her face. Then she took off her visor and put her hands to her eyes. She was crying. It was a hard and ugly cry. Something pent up in her, something she had been holding down all this time was coming out. The kitsune voice was in his ear, telling him softly to bear sympathy for this love. Love for Sweet Atlanta or the cry was love? The kitsune only tutted in response.

"No, Quinn didn't do this," she said finally. Gekijo didn't say anything. He had a dozen more questions but stayed silent, just looking to her. If she was going to talk then let her talk.

"Nobody get's kicked out of Heaven," she said. She was looking not at him but straight ahead. "There's... retraining. But everybody <i>loves</i> you. It's horrible. I am not going back, I <i>can't</i> go back."

"Sweet Atlanta, can you tell me what this thing is?"

"It's a war office," she said. "But a corrupted one. A lot of times they're trees, or mailboxes. I'm not sure how this one got this way. We did a lot of bad things."

"We?" Gekijo asked. "Mr. Sports Angel?"

Sweet Atlanta nodded, wiping her eyes. "Oh that motherfucker!" she yelled, pounding her fist on the concrete.

Gekijo looked the lamppost over, thinking of how many times he had fed his own blood to it. "So how did he turn it off? Does this mean he's her - is he watching right now?"

"Um..." Sweet Atlanta looked up with her bleary eyes. "In a way, I guess. Not physically." She stood up. "Bones and Doctor are down there. We have to get them out."

"That's what he's waiting for," said Gekijo.

"Oh, like an act of mercy. I'm supposed to sacrifice myself for the sake of a demon and a heretic," she made a mocking face while saying the last part. "Yeah that sounds about right."

She pulled out a knife. "No," Gekijo said. "You don't walk such an obvious road."

"Oh, you wanna do it?" she asked, offering the knife to him. The kitsune chuckled lowly in his ears. It was always a test.

"Sweet Atlanta, look at me," he commanded. She did so. Her eyes were wet, but the visor was on the ground, and she looked at him dead on. She wasn't tricking him. This angel she was so afraid of was coming for her, and would get her at any cost. She was valuable, she was rogue, she was lost, but even in her desperation she wouldn't leave her friends behind. That's what he was counting on.

Gekijo took the knife from her. He made a small cut and smeared his blood on the lamppost's dentils.

"Wrong answer, right question," the kitsune whispered.

The lamppost flickered, the light came back on, and the stairway opened up. Then the light died, but the stairs were still there.

Gekijo looked to Sweet Atlanta. She had her gun out. He went first down the steps, with her covering behind him. It was completely pitch black down there, but they didn't have to go far before they met Bones coming the other way, carrying Doctor. They quickly made their way up through the opening again. The lamppost was still dark, the stairway was still open. Gekijo didn't want to touch the thing again, and didn't want to waste any time. They left it as it was. Sweet Atlanta didn't even pick her silver visor up off the ground.

They made their way quickly through the back ways behind the apartment building, Gekijo with all attention out for adversaries, but he had a feeling Sweet Atlanta would see it coming first. He was also wondering where Quinn would show up, and what part if any he played in the scheme of things. Carlos joined them by the back service elevator, and now the five of them were taking the ride up to Sweet Atlanta's floor. They moved quickly through the hallways, there were things that she had to get from her room. The way she put it, there was going to be a fight, there was no avoiding him; she was surprised he wasn't there already. It was clear to Gekijo that she was in abject awe of this being, but decided to defer to her requirements. It was possible she was entirely correct.

She fumbled with the keys to her door, shaking, hasty. Gekijo was braced for anything. This is where the ambush could be, though Sweet Atlanta seemed to think they were still in the clear for now.

There was no angel waiting for them inside Sweet Atlanta's apartment. There was, however, a demon there.

"Quinn!" she exclaimed. He was sitting in an armchair facing the door, a shotgun in his hands. He had changed since Gekijo had last seen him. This was truly a sick being; the illness was perceivable at a distance, coiled in his guts. There were flies hovering around him, and a wash of contempt in his face. He wielded the firearm, its double barrels pointed at Gekijo.

"Knock it off, Quinn," said Sweet Atlanta, standing in the way. "If you guys want to fight to the death afterwards then go ahead, but right now we have to deal with Donnis." She grabbed Quinn by the arm and led him out of the room.

Donnis. Mr. Sports Angel. Gekijo mused at the timing, the distance. Either the angel's influence was coming in from far away, as he moved towards them, or there was indeed going to be an ambush. Or something else entirely was going on. They certainly had been given full opportunity to prepare.

Sweet Atlanta came back out with a small gilded box. "I handcuffed Quinn to the bed," she said. "I'll unlock it in a second, when he promises not to shoot you."

Gekijo didn't have anything to say to that. He nodded to the box. "Is that what you came to get?"

She pursed her lips. "Yes. This box contains something... very important to me. Something I need you to take."

She opened the box. Inside was a lustrous white cushion, and in the center of the cushion was a large pearl with an obvious crack in it. It was an emanating thing - the moment she opened the box that distinguishable feeling that was Sweet Atlanta's presence multiplied.

"It's my halo," she said. Carlos crossed himself. Bones shifted hugely, his attention riveted.

"Your halo?" Gekijo asked without roughness. It felt like a halo, but he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do with it.

"They're not floating rings, that's an idea human artists came up with in the last few decades," she said, looking down at it in its box. "I use to wear it all the time." She looked to Gekijo again. "It's what I was born out of."

Gekijo had only recent familiarity with Catholicism, but he understood kami. The weight of the halo's significance was undeniable. "What am I to do with it? You want me to take it with me?"

"Actually I think you should eat it." She rode over Gekijo's shock. "I know that's more of a Shinto idea, not really a Catholic one. That's why I think it will work. He won't be expecting that."

A dozen important questions came into Gekijo's mind, but he was cut off by Carlos suddenly.

"Hey, guys, I gotta tell you something important. I've done a lot of bad things in my life, but I'm not gonna fight any angels. Some things are just too important, right."

Gekijo and Sweet Atlanta looked at him. It was a significant decision. Gekijo respected that. "Of course," he said. "Do as you must."

"I'll stay another moment, but I'm gonna bounce - whatever way you guys go, I'll go the other."

Gekijo nodded. But he needed Sweet Atlanta to convince him on her suggested course. "What will that do to you, if I eat it? And what to me?"

"I will be fine without it, trust me. There's been a few times I almost chucked it in a river, but I held on to it. It always seemed like I'd need it someday. As for you, why, you'll turn into a perfect little angel, just like me."

"Very funny. What advantage does your plan give us?"

"Donnis and I were very close," said Sweet Atlanta. "<i>Way</i> too close. I've been hiding from him for a long time, but the gig is up. He knows I'm here and I know where he is, too. He's somewhere right above us, I think in the air over the apartment building. I think he's waiting until I come out in the open again. He knows I know and can't just sit here forever. If you... eat this halo, make a part of me a part of you, it'll be like putting two blips on his radar. Then you go to the roof. Engage him. You're stronger than me, stronger than Bones, too. You could actually take him."

"And once I've distracted him..."

"Hopefully you can do a lot more than distract him," Sweet Atlanta said. But that wasn't it. He wanted her to say it.

"And then I take the others, except Bones, and we run. Bones should help you fight. Then we rendezvous when it's over."

It made sense, strategically, hate it as Gekijo might. But with Carlos out, that meant it would be just Sweet Atlanta, Quinn and Doctor trying to sneak out. Doctor would only be a hindrance in a fast escape, and Quinn was an abject liability; Gekijo still wasn't convinced that Quinn hadn't tipped Donnis off, though really he had no idea.

"Can you tell if he is alone, or does he have friends?" Gekijo asked.

"I know for certain, the same way I knew he was with the Red Sox, that he came by himself. Part of him wants to catch me alone."

That settled it. Gekijo would face him man to man. There was no other option. And Bones had a better use. "I want Bones to go with you," he said. "I don't trust Quinn to be helpful, and as you said, there will be two blips on the radar. He might still come after you."

"But..." she uttered just the word, then nodded. It was not to be a matter of debate. She held up the halo in her fingers. "Shall we?"

"Is this like mixing water and fire, or thunder and lightning?" he asked.

"I think analogies fail in this case," she said. "But it's not going to fuck you up worse than you are already."

The kitsune was laughing in Gekijo's ear. Wrong answers, right questions. Gekijo bade it hold its fur-rimmed mouth shut. He was treading a path chosen and would take it to its ultimate destination. He nodded to Sweet Atlanta.

She placed the halo between her lips and then walked slowly, lightly, passing him on the left and then on the right. Gekijo was surprised. She was improvising her own ceremony. Shinto indeed.

"I take your halo and make you a part of me," Gekijo said to her, in Japanese. Sweet Atlanta must have known that this made her his wife. With her mouth she pressed the halo to his lips and he embraced her. This was the deep clear pool, cooling to his overwrought and battered senses, fathoms of the stillest water. He swallowed the halo, and felt then a roiling in his guts; the high-strung lambent energies within him twanged apart, loosed and churned in the halo's spreading radiance. He shuddered, held his head low, found Sweet Atlanta's shoulder and she held him. His knees buckled and he was too heavy for her; she lowered him to his knees but didn't let go, whispering soothingly to him. It was not a foreign obtrusion or untoward agency, it was Sweet Atlanta inside him, and she loved him. He embraced this, made it part of him, aligned, rewound, absorbed and accepted it. Tendered it again. It was a gift, one that radiated, and to own it was to radiate it.

He opened his eyes. The unbalance was gone. He stood then and Sweet Atlanta unwound from him. Gekijo had been kami for some time now, when his path had wound among them and begotten his transformation, but it was in this moment it became a reality as certain as the setting and rising sun. He became something else then, something new. He was Gekijo, he was kami, he was demon and he was angel.

It was time for work.

"Bones," he said, turning to the demon. "I task you with getting Sweet Atlanta to safety. She will give the signal when the time is right, and then it is up to you."

Bones was not one to make any elaborate display of outward expression, or barely any expression at all. But he pulled his shoulders back, reared to his full height and ready to move, and his eyes showed that he understood.

Sweet Atlanta said nothing else to Gekijo. He had the armor, his helmet, the katana and his wakazashi. He and Carlos nodded to each other and then he was gone.

His senses had been sharp, tight and precisely honed before this, but he found them now to be slightly more pervasive and nuanced. There was indeed something up above him, in the sky over the apartment building, and he knew this would be Donnis when he found it.

He made his way to the roof access door, at the top of the staircase. He carefully pushed through it, into the shadow cast from lights nearby on the rooftop. Donnis's presence was clearly perceivable now, the angel he had seen at Fenway Park was nearby. He was sure Donnis would feel him there too, and so it was. From the moment Gekijo stepped out onto the roof, Donnis made his way down onto its surface.

"Alanna?" Donnis called out. His voice was strong. He was not subtle. Was he looking for traps or tricks? Did he think Sweet Atlanta would just offer herself like that? Gekijo continued moving as the shadows, to get a clearer view of him.

Around a corner, he found the angel. Donnis was not dressed in an expensive business suit. He was wearing something like an armored tunic, white cloth and polished steel, with white leggings in the same style, metal plates sparingly guarding the length of his legs, and most importantly, a sword and scabbard cinched at his waist. Gekijo accepted these terms. Right answer, right question, kitsune. The kitsune responded with its high growl. Gekijo knew it was hungry, Gekijo knew this was the sort of feast it was waiting for.

"Who's there?" Donnis asked. "Alanna, is that you?"

"Yes, Donnis, I am here," Gekijo said, making himself visible beyond the shadows.

Donnis recoiled. "What? Who are you? Where's Alanna?" Donnis's sword was in his hand then, with flames rising steadily from its edge. Gekijo had his wielded also, but the flames were not yet dancing.

"I ate her," said Gekijo. "She is inside me. You may join her, if you wish."

"Ridiculous," Donnis spat, "She is alive somewhere, I can feel it."

"You may lie to yourself if you wish, but you see it, you know what I'm saying is true," said Gekijo. The problem he was facing was that Donnis had a distinct advantage in this situation - he could fly. He could and might just take to the air and seek Alanna, or Atlanta, bypassing Gekijo. He would have to catch up with them at great effort, and there was no knowing if Quinn was in league with this angel or not, though Gekijo felt looking at Donnis now that the idea was farfetched. In either case, he wanted to do this here, now.

Donnis was sizing up the situation. Sweet Atlanta had been right about the halo, from the moment Gekijo came out of the stairwell and possible even before that, it's assimilation in Gekijo was throwing him off.

"What do you want?" Donnis asked him. "Why did you come to meet me?"

"To reunite lovers, of course." Donnis flinched, holding his blade in a fighting stance. Gekijo continued, "She was quite sad, to be consumed, but knew it was the only way."

"Shut up!" Donnis yelled. "You're lying."

"I think you are unaware of the eastern way. The consumption is union. Absorption is to ascend and become something greater. That is what she wished for you. It's the only way to avoid the... retraining, is how she put it."

Gekijo was of course bluffing, reading into what little Sweet Atlanta had told him, but with the halo inside him, that was become him, the feeling it gave him, the greater intimacy of the knowing of Sweet Atlanta through it, he knew he was on the right track - pressing buttons to keep Donnis on edge.

A strong grimace was ruining Donnis's handsomeness. He was gripping the sword blade tightly as Gekijo continued, "Were you planning to take her back for retraining or did you hope to spirit her away?"

"Stand down, demon," said Donnis through gritted teeth. "If you won't stop talking in ridiculous riddles then get out of the way."

"It's why you came alone, isn't it? You say to yourself you were going to bring her back, you would turn her in, and be the hero. But part of you wanted her to convince you otherwise."

"I'm not alone. Seven of my brothers are hovering around the building right now, waiting on my word." Now Donnis was bluffing. The sky around them was clear of anything but cloud. He was uneasy, too. Gekijo knew too much about him.

"Everything you are looking for is inside me, Donnis. If you want her you will have to come and get her." With that Gekijo made his move. He dashed quickly to the side, a straight feint with the katana edge out. The only object of the maneuver was to throw Donnis off, and it worked, the Angel taking a sudden step back, off balance. Gekijo came in hard with the katana, which Donnis barely parried. Gekijo was fast, but Donnis was fast, too.

Gekijo came in with more measured blows, swift and calculated, pushing Donnis back, trying to unsettle him, but Donnis had a strong and sturdy style, and rather than fall off balance again he gained a steady stance. Gekijo saw the offensive coming and dashed sideways again, swift cutting through the air to avoid the burning angel sword, with the katana slicing out at Donnis's forearm, but again Gekijo was parried. Donnis was quite a swordsman - he maneuvered his broadsword like it was a smaller blade.

It is time, kitsune. The fox demon knew this, was ready. The flick of fox tail flame lit the edges of the katana as Gekijo moved back in, blade edge out, down, swiping up to Donnis's torso, blocked, fire against fire. They jumped apart. Donnis came in heavily at Gekijo's side and he danced, whipping the fox fire blade about against the ringing blows - one, two, three. Donnis was good, but not flawless - Gekijo saw an opening on the third blow, where both of Donnis's arms carried over past his center of gravity. He used the force of the broadsword against his and carried it around to sweep an arc into Donnis's belly, but-

A solid kick into Gekijo and he skidded away, landing on his backside. Damn! He rolled quickly, avoiding the burning broadsword as it clobbered a gash in the roofing where he had just been. It was not just himself or Sweet Atlanta he was doing this for - Tamashi's fate was what was at stake. If Gekijo fell, there would be no one else who would free her; her damnation as the ribbon around the damned kitsune's neck would be final and forever.

Gekijo jumped to his feet, narrowly avoiding the powerful arc of Donnis's blade as it swiped the air he leapt from. Tamashi spoke to him. She trusted him, loved him, but to win this fight he could not just use the kitsune, he had to accept it, he had to love the kitsune. Gekijo had the blade of dancing flames up, parrying strong attacks, working his footing. Donnis was pushing him back, his face was dead-set, not grinning or grimacing but solid and determined.

Love the kitsune? Gekijo could not even begin to muster such a sentiment. How could he? Tamashi said that she loved the kitsune without reason. What or why was without import, they all were and all would be without end. They could hold nothing but love for each other. Ah, what surprising words come from the mouths of children. But to refer to Tamashi as merely a child was to speak without accuracy.

What say you, kitsune? What reason do you have that I should love you? The kitsune had no reason. You can't and won't, till the stars fall from the sky. The only thing I possess that you could care for is your daughter's life.

Gekijo hated those words, true as they were. He thought of Tamashi hanging on as a trailing ribbon in the fox flames; he thought of Tamashi's mother, and the dying light in her eyes as Tamashi cried new life; he thought of Sweet Atlanta, and the halo she pressed into him without misgiving; he thought of the kitsune, and the bane and power of each of its nine tails.

Not love, but there was a sentiment Gekijo could bring himself to bear. Come kitsune, if you can find to accept me as an equal, I can do the same for you. The kitsune cry was long and loud. Let's fuck this pretty boy up.

Whose thought that last one had been did not matter. The fire was leaping from the blade with each swish and clang. It was the kitsune, Tamashi, the part of Tamashi that was her mother, Gekijo himself, Sweet Atlanta as well, the forces of each thing, love, family, hate, pain, betrayal, tragedy, hunger, fealty and desire - and the longing to be free - all of these things dancing as the flicking fox flames on the ancient blade. The fire raged, the fire that was the kitsune and was Gekijo, and together they pushed and swung and danced against Donnis. The angel gritted his teeth - something had changed, he had been successfully maneuvering Gekijo towards the roof's edge but now he was losing ground. Each attack and parry and blow happened too quickly to see, each attempt at offense was met with stronger and faster retaliation. The steady righteous burning of his fire was battling against the flowing raking living whipping treacherous fire of nine-tails. Faster and faster, bigger and bigger, until the kitsune was manifest full body on the sword steel, claws and teeth reaching, searching, burning at the angel. Donnis was backpedalling now, getting away from the fireball threatening to take him.

With a surge of energy, Donnis kicked off against the ground, taking to the air ten feet above Gekijo's head. Donnis's wings were out full span, large, magnificent, glowing brilliance - he did not even need to flap them, he just hung in the air with the image of wings spread out to either side.

This moment was critical; Gekijo could not follow him and could not let him leave. He did not bother with his own wings, in a fight like this they would only get in the way. But Donnis had a distinct advantage now. Would he dive in? Or fly off in pursuit of Sweet Atlanta? Donnis was perhaps asking himself these same questions. For an entire awful second he just hung there, meeting Gekijo's gaze. Then there was a click, and the door to the roof-access stairwell opened.

Donnis turned. Sweet Atlanta was silhouetted against the opening, alone, looking like she had just been sprinting, breathing hard and holding to the door frame. He uttered, "Alanna," something lifting in him.

Time is not an absolute thing. It is malleable, it can be bent, compressed and shifted, to those who know the way. When Donnis turned to the doorway, Gekijo was already spinning, one foot out, one foot pivoting. He loosed the kitsune blade, streaking like a comet. Donnis turned back to face Gekijo just in time to receive the sword fully in the chest.

There was an explosion, enough that Gekijo was forced back, knocked off his feet. The entire angel was engulfed in flame, arcing over the rooftop and then plummeting down into the alley. Gekijo forgot that Sweet Atlanta was even there. He realized he had just launched his daughter off the edge of a tall building. He sprinted over to the roof's edge, seeing the fireball land far below. It had carved a great gouge down the wall of the adjacent building and ignited all of the dumpsters and everything else in the alley. Gekijo looked around - there was a fire escape nearby. He did not bother with the stair steps, he grabbed the outside and slid-leapt down the stories as fast as he could, whipping through the cold November air towards the heavy updraft below. When he neared the bottom, Gekijo did push his wings out through the swiveling armor plates, and leapt from the fire escape, catching the heated air and braking his descent.

He landed fists down on a patch of concrete just on the perimeter of the violent blaze. He looked into it - what could he do? Would the fire burn him? Probably. He would not panic. There must be some course of action he could take. But then he saw movement. A figure was walking toward him, stepping lightly through the raging flames, calm and certain. She emerged from the fire, naked, a baby in her arms.

It was the kitsune, of course, but she looked so much like Tamashi's mother had, at her most beautiful, when Gekijo had first seen her, when he had teased her about her looks and pulled her from the festival. But this was not a dream, or a vision; the kitsune was there before Gekijo, in the flesh, and in her arms - Tamashi's eyes were shut tight, her tiny limbs squirming, as a newborn. Gekijo might have cried if- no, he was crying, tears streaking down each side of his face.

The kitsune walked right up to Gekijo, until she was inches away. He held his arms out, accepting his baby daughter from her. Tamashi thrashed out, reaching as the kitsune pulled away, but then nestled in Gekijo's arms.

"Would you believe me if I told you Tamashi consumed that angel all on her own?" the kitsune asked him. Gekijo shook his head gently.

"No, I wouldn't either. But I did save some for her, just enough." Then the kitsune leaned in close and kissed Gekijo on the cheek, the sharpness of her canine grazing his skin, just enough to break it. Then she pulled off and moved away, back towards the fire. Was he just going to let her walk? What else could he do, with Tamashi in his arms. He wasn't going to set her down to detain a thousands year-old fox demon with just a wakazashi and his claws.

That was when, as if on its own, Tamashi's mother's name came into Gekijo's mind, a thread streaming in from all those years ago.

"Kiruka," Gekijo said.

She stopped, turning just enough to look at him over her shoulder.

"That's your name. Kiruka," Gekijo said. She looked at him for a moment, then smiled just the barest smile. She turned and kept walking.

"I'm watching you," Gekijo said.

"Of course, Gekijo," she called back to him, "I'm sure we'll be seeing plenty of each other." And then she was back in the fire, and out of sight.