An hour passed. Then another. The noise in the Kenshin bar gradually faded, the crowd thinning out, and 1991 never appeared. The holographic map continued to flicker above the table, casting a cold blue light across the faces of the three.
Phobos glanced once more at the clock hanging above the bar door. His face remained unreadable, but the fingers tapping against the hilt of his katana gave away his irritation.
"Enough." Phobos folded the hologram shut with a sharp motion. The blue glow died. "We've waited long enough."
Namkhai looked up.
"What do you suggest?"
"We forget about him," Phobos said flatly. "He's an idiot, but he's an adult. He makes his own choices. Most likely he found himself some kind of entertainment. We have the map, we have a plan, and we have tomorrow's meeting. We can't risk the mission for someone who can't even show up on time."
He thought for a moment, then added:
"Honestly, he's an uncontrollable parasite. Does everything on his own terms. Probably got himself into trouble again, or just ran off. Either way, we'll be better off without him."
"And if he turns up?" Namkhai asked.
"Then good. We move forward with the plan."
"And if he doesn't?"
Phobos gave a slight shrug.
"One less problem."
Delilah sat quietly, fingertips brushing lightly against her split lip. She glanced from Phobos to Namkhai, waiting to see what he would say.
Namkhai thought for a moment, then stood up from the table.
"Then I'll go look for him."
Phobos looked at him, caught off guard.
"Why would you go looking for him?"
"You said it yourself, this place is full of wanted criminals. What if he ran into one of them?"
"I did say that. But he should have been keeping his head down and not drawing attention. We're on a mission he signed up for himself." Phobos narrowed his eyes. "What I want to know is why you suddenly care."
"Honestly, I'm not even sure I fully understand it myself. I still think he's a sick bastard. Someone who has no business being around normal people. But…" Namkhai paused for a second, "that doesn't change the fact that he's a person who just got a bad hand."
"We all got a bad hand," Phobos replied coldly. "That's not an excuse for being selfish and stupid."
"I'm still going. I remember yesterday, when he was talking about his family."
Phobos raised a skeptical eyebrow.
"What, he was just yelling."
"Not only that. His eyes changed," Namkhai continued. "You could see it he was genuinely...happy. Even though he's never seen them and doesn't even know who they are."
Phobos let out a quiet scoff.
"Seriously? That's why you're going to look for him?"
"Yes."
Phobos laughed softly, shaking his head.
"You're such an idiot. Getting worked up over something like that."
Delilah looked at Phobos, then back at Namkhai.
Namkhai held his gaze.
"If I'd seen the same thing in your eyes, I'd have done the same for you."
Phobos stopped laughing.
"What?"
"Even factoring in that I hate you and could put you through the floor at any given moment," Namkhai added, calmly.
A brief silence settled.
Phobos smiled slowly.
"Don't talk nonsense."
"I'm serious."
"I'm not. You and I aren't friends, if anything, we're enemies who happen to have to work together. Don't confuse that."
"I'm not confusing anything. I'm just saying it how it is."
Phobos smirked, but the amusement was gone.
"Do what you want. Just don't get yourself killed on the way. I need you tomorrow."
Delilah had been watching them in silence the whole time. When Namkhai turned to leave, he caught her gaze for a moment.
She was looking at him differently than usual, and smiled - barely, but it was there.
Namkhai was already heading for the door when he felt a light touch on his robe. He turned around. Delilah was standing right behind him. She said nothing, only raised an eyebrow and gestured toward the door, then to herself.
"You want to come with me?" Namkhai asked quietly.
Delilah nodded. She glanced briefly toward Phobos, who had pointedly turned away and gone back to studying the map, pretending not to care.
"Alright," the monk exhaled. "Your instincts will be more than useful. The curtain-hair one is right about one thing - 1991 really does attract trouble."
They stepped out of the Kenshin. The night air of the Wanderers' Village was cool and thick. Delilah stopped, closed her eyes, and breathed in slowly. The world felt different to her, not as streets and buildings, but as a network of pulsing energies. She knew 1991, had sensed him before, which meant she could try to find him even from a distance.
Namkhai watched her, waiting.
"Anything?"
She slowly shook her head.
"Right." He scratched the back of his head. "Then we head south, to his territory. We start there."
They had taken only a few steps when the bar door opened again. Both of them turned. Phobos stepped out onto the street.
"So you changed your mind?" Namkhai said with a grin.
"Don't flatter yourself," Phobos replied dryly. "I need you tomorrow. And if I let the two of you go off alone, you'll end up disappearing right along with that idiot. I don't need extra complications."
He turned his gaze to Delilah.
"If you sense anything at all, point the way immediately. We can't afford to waste time."
She gave a short nod.
"Then what are we standing around for," Namkhai said. "Let's go find the fool."
"Stay close, don't draw attention, and keep quiet," Phobos added.
The three of them moved off toward the southern part of the village - toward where 1991 had last been seen.
______
Several hours passed with no trace of him. The three moved in silence - Delilah ahead, Namkhai behind her, and Phobos bringing up the rear. Only occasionally did the monk break the quiet, asking Dalila whether she had sensed anything, and it was beginning to wear on her.
"Strange, I really thought he'd be the easy one to find," Namkhai muttered at last. "Did he just vanish?"
Phobos said nothing. He walked behind them, scanning their surroundings carefully. An unpleasant feeling was growing something was off.
Namkhai stopped and looked around.
"Alright, this is getting us nowhere. Wait here, I'll try asking around." He headed toward a group of passersby.
He stopped one of the locals.
"Hey you seen a white-haired kid around? Small, loud."
The man frowned, trying to remember.
"There was one yesterday. Strange type," he said. "Was shouting across the whole market that he was looking for his family."
"Yeah, that's him. Where did he go after?"
The man shrugged. "No idea. A friend told me about it, I didn't see him myself."
Namkhai exhaled quietly and walked back to the others.
"He was seen at the center of the market. Shouting, as usual. Asking about family."
Phobos frowned.
"The center. So the bastard was out in the open, in full view of everyone."
Delilah turned her head slightly, catching the implication.
"You think someone noticed him?" Namkhai asked.
"I think if he was shouting in the middle of a market about his family and the leader, he might have been more than just noticed."
Namkhai scratched the back of his head. "Well. That makes things even more fun."
Phobos looked ahead. "We go to the center. Check the market."
Delilah had already taken a step forward, not waiting for the others.
"Hey, hold on." Namkhai said, and hurried after her.
Phobos followed last, eyes moving steadily across the dark streets around them.
Walking behind Dalila, Namkhai found himself watching her. Her abilities were clearly beyond anything ordinary. The force with which she killed with a touch, the way she navigated the world around her - all of it felt far too powerful, far too dangerous.
"Your abilities are something else, I'll give you that." he said quietly. "Especially your main one."
He even lifted a finger and mimed touching his own face, imitating her motion.
Delilah glanced sideways at him without stopping. Then, still walking, she pulled a notebook from her pocket and quickly wrote something down.
When she finished, she held it out to him.
"My 'main ability,' as you call it, is a curse. Not an ability."
Namkhai read it aloud:
"'....it's a curse, not an ability.'"
Phobos, walking behind them, reacted immediately. He turned his head toward them.
"A curse? Someone cursed you? Who? And why would anyone put something like that on a person?"
Delilah didn't answer. Didn't even look at him. She simply closed the notebook and tucked it away, continuing forward.
Namkhai glanced at her, thrown.
"Then why bring it up at all if you don't want to talk about it?" He hesitated. "Or write about it, I mean. Sorry."
Delilah gave no reaction.
"Was it witches?" Phobos cut in.
Delilah turned her gaze toward him for just a moment, then looked away.
Namkhai blinked. "Witches?! Witches can do something like that? Because I have--"
He didn't get to finish. Delilah stopped sharply.
Namkhai braked hard to avoid walking into her and stepped back, bumping into Phobos.
She wrote quickly in the notebook.
"I sensed his residual energy. He was here."
"Residual energy? What does that even mean?" Namkhai asked.
"Sounds like tracks," Phobos said evenly. "Like a hunter following prey."
Delilah nodded.
"Nice. I'm liking your abilities more and more."
She wrote again.
"The trail splits. Two directions."
"Which ones?" Phobos tensed immediately.
Delilah pointed both ways - right toward the central market, left toward the dump.
Namkhai pointed toward the market without thinking.
"I'll take that one."
"Then I'll go with you, and Delilah takes the other," Phobos said.
"What? You want to send her to the dump alone?"
"I want to make sure you don't do something stupid. I'm already pushing my luck that you're the one meeting the leader tomorrow. And simultaneously not, because it's you."
"Relax, I'll be fine."
"I don't care about you," Phobos replied coldly. "I need that information by tomorrow. After that, do whatever you want. You can even drop dead."
"Harsh… but fair," Namkhai said with a grin.
Phobos pressed a hand over his eyes in irritation. At that moment Namkhai broke into a run toward the market.
"Where are you going?!" Phobos snapped.
"Watch Delilah! Two hours, meet back here!" came the reply, already fading.
"Idiot..." Phobos muttered.
He glanced briefly at Delilah. She only nodded.
______
The dump greeted them with mountains of refuse and the smell of rot. Heaps of junk loomed on all sides, with narrow passages winding between them.
Phobos was visibly unimpressed.
"What a jerk. He deliberately picked the market so we'd have to dig around here."
Delilah smiled quietly.
"What's funny?"
She opened the notebook and wrote:
"The way you grumble and complain about everything we do, but come along anyway - it's kind of sweet."
Phobos grimaced.
"What? What choice do I have? The three of you have no sense of responsibility whatsoever. No experience, no plan - all you want to do is break things and kill people. You never stop to think about consequences, let alone the squad or the mission."
Delilah stopped and wrote again:
"Then teach us."
Phobos went quiet. His gaze lingered on her a moment longer than usual.
Delilah crouched down and ran her hand along the dirt, studying the ground.
"Does the trail go cold here?" Phobos asked.
A second later she drove her foot into his stomach.
Phobos reacted instantly, he threw his arm out and absorbed the blow, stumbling back.
A trident slammed into the exact spot where he had been standing, the impact muffled by the filth beneath it.
Phobos stepped aside sharply. Dalila rose to her feet.
They both looked up.
Two figures stood at the top of a mound of garbage.
The first was a tall demon with wings and two horns jutting from the sides of his head. Dark violet skin, his body covered in markings, his gaze calm and cold - Jeremiel.
The second was shorter, with dark red feathered wings and long hair the same color. He held a sword resting on his shoulder, his face relaxed, but his eyes carried a hunger for blood - Abaddiel.
"Jeremiel, how did you miss?" Abaddiel asked, irritated.
"The girl saved him," the other replied evenly.
"Did she."
Abaddiel shifted his gaze to Delilah.
"Hey, you!" he called out. "Are you stupid? We were going to kill the man and take you. Now we'll have to fight. One of you dies, the other comes with us."
"Don't insult her, Abaddiel," Jeremiel added calmly. "She's just a young girl."
Phobos had already settled into a fighting stance, katana drawn.
"Who are you?"
No answer.
Abaddiel only narrowed his eyes and asked:
"Where's your monk?"