The moon hung low over Rome that night.
A woman sprinted down the narrow backstreets, her boots splashing through puddles of red. Every breath she took sounded like broken glass in her throat. Her white coat was shredded. One arm hung limp, and her waist was clutched by blood-slick fingers.
"Don't… stop…"
The sound of footsteps followed.
"Spread out!" One of the men shouted in Japanese. "She has serious injuries! She can't get far!"
Three shadows moved across the rooftops above her while two more sprinted along the alley below. The woman stumbled but she pressed herself against a brick wall, forcing herself to keep running. She turned sharply into a narrower alley, one that reeked of wet trash and iron. Her vision blurred.
She hissed under her breath and reached her trembling hand toward the blood splatters. The liquid quivered then crawled backward like a reversed film reel, seeping back into her palm. Her fingertips glowed with a faint crimson hue before the light dimmed.
Then she dropped to one knee, panting heavily. Her head throbbed. She couldn't focus.
"Come on… not yet…"
The assassins' footsteps grew louder. They were close now, just around the corner. She gritted her teeth, rolled behind a pair of overturned trash bins, and pressed herself into the shadows.
"Where the hell did she go?"
"Trail's gone cold. Check behind those bins!"
Her hand trembled as she fumbled for her phone. She unlocked it with her bloody thumbprint, scrolling through her contacts until she found one labeled:
"Cheeky Bastard."
The call rang twice.
A lazy, amused, and far too casual voice for the situation, answered.
"You know, it's been a month since you called me. I was starting to think you finally died for good."
She let out a shaky laugh, though it came out half-choked.
"Help… me…"
The voice changed instantly. His humor was gone.
"Where are you?"
She coughed, the phone slipping slightly in her grasp.
"Track… my phone…"
"Hold on."
She could faintly hear him talking to someone. The rain muffled everything. She heard his voice again and sighed.
"Got you. Stay put."
"Not like… I'm going anywhere…"
She whispered before collapsing sideways, her phone slipping from her hand and clattering against the wet pavement. Moments later, the assassins found her. Her body lay half-covered in the shadows with the phone screen still glowing.
"Found her. She's still alive," one of them said in Japanese, kneeling beside her. "We take her back to Japan now. If the Empire's dogs find out she's here, we're screwed."
"Grab her and—"
A wet thunk cut his sentence short.
The man blinked, confused then looked down. A dagger was buried in his chest. His body crumpled before he could make a sound.
The others turned.
"Who—"
Another blur moved through the mist. The second assassin's head spun halfway around before it hit the ground, blood splattering against the alley walls.
"AMBUSH!"
They drew their weapons but they never got the chance to use them.
From above, a shadow dropped. Twin daggers flashed through the rain, slicing through arteries, armor, and flesh. Each movement was fast and efficient. By the time the third assassin swung his blade, the figure was already behind him. She whispered something and twisted her daggers in a cross pattern across his spine.
He fell. Blood pooled beneath their bodies, flowing toward the unconscious woman like a river of red. The final assassin stood frozen, trembling, his blade still raised. The hooded killer stepped closer, rain dripping from her mask. The dark Xana of her daggers reflected in the silver of her eyes.
"What are the orders, master?"
He dropped his sword, falling to his knees.
"W-wait, please—"
"Understood."
A flash of steel ended his plea.
The hooded woman exhaled, lowering her blades. She turned toward the unconscious figure lying among the corpses. Blood streaked her own face under the hood, but she ignored it. She knelt down, brushed a strand of hair from the woman's cheek, and sighed.
"First mission, and they stick me with a cleanup job and a body to carry home."
Her tone was more tired than angry.
She sheathed her daggers, lifted the unconscious woman into her arms effortlessly, and looked up toward the rooftops where faint blue light flickered. The city's surveillance drones were circling, recording nothing but shadows.
"Couldn't they just not tell me I'd have to haul an unconscious body halfway across Rome? Master can literally summon a portal for me! You people really don't pay me enough for this. Not that I actually need it since I'm a Russian fugitive anyway..."
With that, she leapt, her boots landing silently on the nearest roof. Rain followed her as she vanished into the night.
°°°°°°°
She woke to the faint sound of chirping birds and the scent of medicine and antiseptic. Her eyelids felt like lead. She groaned, wincing as she tried to sit up. A dull ache pulsed through her ribs but when she touched them, her fingers brushed over soft linen. Bandages were tightly wrapped and expertly done on her skin.
She blinked at her surroundings. This was… definitely not an alley.
A wide, bedroom stretched before her. The bed she lay in was large enough to fit four people and covered with thick sheets.
"Where the hell…" she murmured in Japanese.
She pushed herself up, letting out a hiss of pain. Her hand brushed against her side again. The last thing she remembered was blood, rain, and... oh, right. She'd been bleeding out in Rome.
Her eyes widened.
"Am I dead?"
"No," a calm voice answered in Japanese. "Though you were close enough."
She flinched. She turned toward the source of the sound and froze. Standing near the window, half-illuminated by the summer sunlight, was a woman unlike anyone she had ever seen. Her skin was a deep, polished bronze. Her dark curly hair was tied in a long ponytail that reached her hips. Her ears were pointed like an elf's. Her hazel eyes studied her. Even sitting injured and bandaged, she had one thought.
'She's beautiful.'
Her first instinct was to check the sheets to make sure she wasn't missing any more clothing than necessary. She wasn't, thankfully.
"You're awake," the woman said softly in English now, setting a book down on the table beside her. "I was wondering if you'd last the night."
She blinked a few times, trying to find her voice. The woman knew Japanese and English? Was she bilingual?
"Uh… yeah. Guess I did. Though I feel like a truck hit me."
"You were stabbed, shot and poisoned. So I'd say you're doing quite well for someone who was half-dead six hours ago."
"Half-dead? Six hours?!"
"Mm. You've been unconscious since you arrived."
"Arrived? Wait how did I get here?"
"You were brought in by one of our maids. Poor girl complained the whole way about carrying you up the stairs, by the way. Considering your weight with all that gear, I'd say she earned the right to complain."
"Rude."
The other woman smiled faintly. It was an elegant smirk that almost made her forget she was annoyed.
"Who… are you?"
The woman stopped beside her bed, crossing her arms.
"My name is Hinesia. Princess Hinesia Ahmose Rameses."
"Princess? You're kidding."
"Wouldn't that be nice. Unfortunately, my titles aren't jokes. Though I wish they were sometimes. It would make paperwork less exhausting."
"Wait—Rameses? As in—"
"The same House," Hinesia interrupted gently. "Yes."
"Okay, hold on. So where am I? Because this doesn't exactly look like a hospital. Or a prison cell."
"You're in a mansion. More specifically, it's Norphie's mansion. You're an Outer, aren't you?"
"You mean... right. Phasnovterich must have told you."
"Exactly. And yes, I know you."
The woman frowned, pressing a hand to her forehead.
"Great. So you know who I am. Do I get to know who you are? You said you're an Outer too?"
"Yup."
"You're joking."
"Not even close."
The silence hung for a moment before she broke it with a small, tired laugh.
"Well, I'll be damned. Princess, huh? Guess they really do hire anyone these days."
"I'll pretend I didn't hear that."
She leaned back against the headboard.
"So… Phaser's here too?"
"Not at the moment. He's dealing with something urgent. He told me to make sure you're alive and comfortable until he returns. And to tell you not sneak out this time, you stubborn idiot.'"
"He said that?"
"He did."
"Sounds like him."
Hinesia's expression softened. "He was worried, which was actually surprising for someone like him. You've got quite a reputation, Haruno Nishikata."
Haruno looked away. "Yeah, well… being a wanted criminal does that to a girl."
"You're still wanted in Japan?"
"Last I checked, yeah. Apparently assassinating your clan and stealing their money doesn't exactly earn you forgiveness."
The two sat in a comfortable silence for a moment. Haruno kept glancing at Hinesia. She knew Hinesia but she didn't expect to actually see her in person since she simply appeared as flashbacks in MoDS. She stretched a little, careful not to reopen any wounds.
"You're a princess, huh? You don't… act like one."
"Good."
Haruno tilted her head. "Why 'good'?"
"Because I hate being called 'Your Highness' more than anything. And, because I stopped acting like royalty when I transmigrated here."
"Guess that's true," Haruno said, studying her. "Still, for someone who hates acting royal, you sure look like you walked out of a painting."
"Thanks."