Chapter 370 CH 355: HANEKAWA



[Thursday — 5th December 2030 — 00:30 am]

Stepping along a long stairway, in the wee hours of the night, a green-haired woman was walking with her hands tucked in the pockets of her pristine white lab coat.The source of this content no/v(el)bi((n))

The hall seemed to go on without end and for every few steps she took, the air seemed to change drastically— as if the air itself was changing to that of another world, different from the normal world that people were aware of.

It didn't take long for her to know that they had finally entered the bounded field that was protecting the house or rather— the field that was protecting the exterior world from the things that roamed in this house.

"Allow us to accompany you."

Out of nowhere, surrounding her from all sides, four men appeared and started to walk in a square formation, making sure to keep her always in the center of their formation.

They were wearing red and white traditional priest clothes and had their faces covered with what looked like a giant yellow talisman with the word 'Forbidden' written on top of it in Kanji characters.

She knew that they were the death–sworn of the Hanekawa family, a group of crazy fanatics who worshiped the members of this family and saw them as the emissaries of the gods on earth.

The fact that they technically weren't wrong irked Medusa to no end.

"I forgot how uncomfortable this place could make me. This is why I don't like coming to Los Angeles."

Not all places in America had clear order and powerful families where humans really thrived.

In fact, one could say that in the vast majority of states, humans were not as proactive and the earthly supernatural creatures thrived instead. The best example was Las Vegas where werewolves were the leaders of the city or a place like Florida where absolute anarchy reigned and even the high and lofty Directors refused to be stationed.

"So. How does it feel like to work for that family of crazy bastards?"

The four continued to ignore her and walked while perfectly synching with her steps and keeping her always in the center of their square formation.

"Your four-yang barrier can't really stop me, don't you know? To block my Yin energy you would need many, many more of you guys and even then it wouldn't be enough."

To her provocation, one of the men answered in an impassive tone,

"We do not need to stop you. We simply need to slow you down and make you lose even 1% of your strength. That is all we need to do and that is the sole purpose of our existence— weakening the enemy. Our sacrifice will help the Miko fight you should you pause a danger."

"Tsk... Fucking crazy bastards."

She clicked her tongue and lost all interest in further discussion with the group of maniacs. Fanatic bastards like them were the most irksome to deal with as there was absolutely no limit to what they were willing to do and how far they were willing to go.

Though they knew that they stood no chance against her, they would slit their own throat with a smile if it was necessary for them to even block her for a fraction of a second.

'In the end, this is no different from a cult.'

She closed her eyes to calm herself down and continued walking with measured steps.

Medusa loved heroes.

Some heroes were extremely selfish while some were willing to sacrifice themselves for the greater good.

Extremely so. To a degree that was so otherworldly that it was basically undefinable in words alone.

Sitting on the patio, clad in a loosely tied red kimono, a body with explosive curves that fully accentuated her mature charms, and a small pipe in her mouth showing a trail of smoke leaking out of it at a gentle pace.

Her long blond hair danced with the wind and she had a small mischievous smile planted on her ravishing face.

No matter how one looked at her, she was not someone of this world. She gave the impression that all her surroundings were in fact a beautiful painting and she was the most beautiful ever drawn.

Gazing at her, Medusa smirked before starting to recite a poem in Japanese,

"In scarlet silk, a geisha glides,

A crimson phoenix, her spirit rides,

In the elegance of a red kimono,

She weaves her tale, a dance in flow.

Her painted lips, a cherry hue,

With grace, she charms, her gaze so true,

In geisha's art, a world apart,

A masterpiece, a living work of art.

A Geisha of grace, an enchanting spell,

A masterful art, her secrets she'll tell,

With every fan flutter, and delicate hand,

A symphony of beauty, she'll command.

With every step, a tale unfolds,

A Geisha's Story, the night beholds,

In crimson silk, her essence bright,

A woman's soul, a guiding light..."

It was truly a beautiful poem at first, full of grace and savor. But the more the poem continued the more strained the expression on the woman facing her became.

Truly, sometimes words were far worse than knives.

———

(AN: First time doing something like writing a poem. The one with Jabberwock doesn't count since I didn't write. I wonder what you guys think? It won't be something that happens regularly. But it can be training before the Japan Visit arc. Welp.)