of her own dresser. Remembering the rats squealing and flailing in her hands as she pressed them to her flesh. Anything, everything to evoke pity, to soften the hearts she longed to tear still-beating from their chests.
The urge to smash the reflection burned bright in her mind. She stared at her doppelganger, the tiny, broken girl she pretended to be, hands curling into fists.
“You are death,” she whispered. “Cold as winter dawn. Merciless as Lady Sun. Play the role. Play it so well you could fool yourself. But never forget who you are. What you are.”
She pointed at the glass, and her whisper was sharp as knives.
“You are Kagé Michi.”
5
CHRYSALIS
Cold nausea in her belly, bubbling past her lungs to the tip of her tongue.
Blood-red eyes stared at Yukiko from the pit trap’s gloom—polished glass affixed in a bone-smooth, mouthless face. The membrane covering the figure’s body was brown as old leather, glossy and supple, creased at the joints. A transistor-studded mechabacus on its chest and the cables snaking around it body marked it as Guild, the cluster of thin, chromed limbs at its back completing the horrific, arachnoid portrait.
“What the hells is that?” she breathed.
“A False-Lifer.” Kin frowned, pawing at his stubble.
“A what?”
Yukiko glanced at the boy beside her, hand still on her tantō hilt. Buruu loomed near her shoulder, watching the pit with narrowed eyes. The warmth radiating from his fur gave her goosebumps, that now-familiar scent of ozone and musk filling the air, flecked with electricity.
“They create the flesh-automata for the Guild.” Kin shrugged. “The servitors that work in the chapterhouses. The city criers that trundle about calling the hour. They conduct surgical procedures, install implants into newborns, that kind of thing.”
Four sets of eyes looked at him as if he were speaking gaijin.
“They build machines that emulate life.” He waved one hand in the air. “False. Lifer.”
“Gods above,” Atsushi breathed.
“What’s it doing here?” Isao demanded.
“Do I look like a mind reader?” Kin asked.
Isao glanced at Yukiko. “If we were alone, I’d tell you exactly what you look like, Guildsman.”
Kin blinked, opened his mouth to retort when a graveled, sibilant rasp drifted up from the pit. Half statement, half question, retched from the belly of some rusted metal serpent.
“Guildsman?” The thing tilted its head, looking at Kin. “You are Kioshi?”
The name sparked a chill in Yukiko’s gut, slick and oily. An unwelcome reminder of who and what Kin had been in days past. The name of a father long dead, a Lotusman of station and esteem, passed to his only son as Guild custom bid. The name Kin had called himself, encased in that metal skin. The name of the stranger. The enemy. Before she’d discover the boy beneath the brass. Before he’d …
“Shut up!” Isao raised his tetsubo, apparently amazed to hear the thing speak. “Shut your mouth or I’ll cave your skull in, bastard.”
The False-Lifer raised its hands. Seven of its metallic arms lifted up in unison. The eighth spat a shower of blue sparks and twitched, dangling beside the Guildsman’s leg.
“I mean no harm to any of you,” it hissed. “By the First Bloom, I vow it.”
“What the hells is a First Bloom?” Isao spat.
“The leader of the Lotus Guild,” Kin said. “The Second Bloom of every chapterhouse reports to him.”
“And you people swear by him like he’s a god?”
Kin stared at the boy for an empty moment, then turned back to the thing in the pit.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“Looking for you, Kioshi-san.”
Looking for him?
“My name is Kin.”
“You … no longer bear your father’s name?”
“His name is none of your business.” Yukiko spoke through clenched teeth. “I’d stop asking questions and start answering them if I were you.”
The False-Lifer averted its smooth, glass eyes. Yukiko could have
The urge to smash the reflection burned bright in her mind. She stared at her doppelganger, the tiny, broken girl she pretended to be, hands curling into fists.
“You are death,” she whispered. “Cold as winter dawn. Merciless as Lady Sun. Play the role. Play it so well you could fool yourself. But never forget who you are. What you are.”
She pointed at the glass, and her whisper was sharp as knives.
“You are Kagé Michi.”
5
CHRYSALIS
Cold nausea in her belly, bubbling past her lungs to the tip of her tongue.
Blood-red eyes stared at Yukiko from the pit trap’s gloom—polished glass affixed in a bone-smooth, mouthless face. The membrane covering the figure’s body was brown as old leather, glossy and supple, creased at the joints. A transistor-studded mechabacus on its chest and the cables snaking around it body marked it as Guild, the cluster of thin, chromed limbs at its back completing the horrific, arachnoid portrait.
“What the hells is that?” she breathed.
“A False-Lifer.” Kin frowned, pawing at his stubble.
“A what?”
Yukiko glanced at the boy beside her, hand still on her tantō hilt. Buruu loomed near her shoulder, watching the pit with narrowed eyes. The warmth radiating from his fur gave her goosebumps, that now-familiar scent of ozone and musk filling the air, flecked with electricity.
“They create the flesh-automata for the Guild.” Kin shrugged. “The servitors that work in the chapterhouses. The city criers that trundle about calling the hour. They conduct surgical procedures, install implants into newborns, that kind of thing.”
Four sets of eyes looked at him as if he were speaking gaijin.
“They build machines that emulate life.” He waved one hand in the air. “False. Lifer.”
“Gods above,” Atsushi breathed.
“What’s it doing here?” Isao demanded.
“Do I look like a mind reader?” Kin asked.
Isao glanced at Yukiko. “If we were alone, I’d tell you exactly what you look like, Guildsman.”
Kin blinked, opened his mouth to retort when a graveled, sibilant rasp drifted up from the pit. Half statement, half question, retched from the belly of some rusted metal serpent.
“Guildsman?” The thing tilted its head, looking at Kin. “You are Kioshi?”
The name sparked a chill in Yukiko’s gut, slick and oily. An unwelcome reminder of who and what Kin had been in days past. The name of a father long dead, a Lotusman of station and esteem, passed to his only son as Guild custom bid. The name Kin had called himself, encased in that metal skin. The name of the stranger. The enemy. Before she’d discover the boy beneath the brass. Before he’d …
“Shut up!” Isao raised his tetsubo, apparently amazed to hear the thing speak. “Shut your mouth or I’ll cave your skull in, bastard.”
The False-Lifer raised its hands. Seven of its metallic arms lifted up in unison. The eighth spat a shower of blue sparks and twitched, dangling beside the Guildsman’s leg.
“I mean no harm to any of you,” it hissed. “By the First Bloom, I vow it.”
“What the hells is a First Bloom?” Isao spat.
“The leader of the Lotus Guild,” Kin said. “The Second Bloom of every chapterhouse reports to him.”
“And you people swear by him like he’s a god?”
Kin stared at the boy for an empty moment, then turned back to the thing in the pit.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“Looking for you, Kioshi-san.”
Looking for him?
“My name is Kin.”
“You … no longer bear your father’s name?”
“His name is none of your business.” Yukiko spoke through clenched teeth. “I’d stop asking questions and start answering them if I were you.”
The False-Lifer averted its smooth, glass eyes. Yukiko could have
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