Midnight reigned as I found the strength to wake up, its sky black as tar with a few defects of gray negative clouds. The stars hid their shy faces underneath ethereal blankets, and the massive white satellite rose to its nightly apex. The hue of my room took a stale, neutral gray, not an ounce of saturation to be had.

The restless balance was irritating to sit through. The absolute stillness of the air and stagnation of temperature are what drives the sleepless to insanity. I bolted upright and started to take a walk through the ship, agitated legs yearning for movement.

Silence allowed for me to plan and sort out some loose ends. One of those being the Stars of Lupus. I had talked to Varg about them back at the warren, but not even he had any knowledge what they were. I decided to put that thought on the back burner for the moment. The more pressing one was locating Ubi's mother.

Again, no immediate leads sprung to mind, so I went over the details. According to Ubi, his mother was last seen at their former home, a hole in the ground that had an entire trove of diamonds. Both gone without a trace. God knows what Ubi must be feeling.

I went out onto the deck of the ship, the skinny crescent still slouching over the horizon. Off in the distance I could see the Oblong Tomb, still carrying its eerie shroud.

Eol mentioned that Ubi liked to hang about in the crow's nest. Sure enough, that's where I found him, perched a top the rounded platform with arms hung over the banister. It took me a bit more effort to climb up, but got there all the same.

“Hey Ubi.” He turned to notice me, then went back to staring at the clouds. “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions about when you last saw your mother?”

“Sure,” he murmured. A forlorn expression held a bit of guilt within his voice.

“I know it might be hard for you to think back, but do you think you could tell me a bit about what exactly happened when... you know.”

He twitched his ears and replied. “It was all sudden, but I remember enough. I remember the dragon that fought mom, but...”

“But...”

“I shouldn't have left her, I should have protected her. At the very least I could have-”

“Done something.” His words plucked an all too familiar tune. “Just like I could have. It's funny really, how just one thing you could have done leads up to something that could have been.” The dream I had came back to me, and I questioned its specious notion.

“There's just too many choices, and no idea which one leads to which. When everything has been said and done though, there's somethings that you don't want to change.”

“Really?”

I nodded. “For example, I would never want to change the people I've met, like you and Eol. I'd be a damn liar if I said that I didn't want to change anything, but after having some time to talk about it, I find it better to think of things that I wouldn't change, not for the whole world.”

“Hmm.” Something was clouding his mind, preoccupying his thoughts. I looked down at the sword he always kept. It looked like an elongated cleaver with a strange glyph near the base and a spike jutting from the back end of the blade.

“Is that the sword you've kept with you all this time?” I asked. “The one that belonged to Oles?”

He nodded, his paw ran across the hilt. “The mark on was the symbol for my clan.”

“And what clan was that?” I pressed.

“Doesn't matter.” He turned to me. “I'm part of a much better clan now.” He reminded me of the fact that we never really came up with a name for ourselves. Varg's clan was the clan of McGruff, but other clans still had even stranger names. I knew Eol's was known as the Inura, but they gave it up when I became their alpha.

“So, what do you think we should be called?” I asked.

“I don't really care.”

“To be honest, not many names really come to mind at the moment, so how about for now we'll be clan Nanashi?”

“Nanashi?”

“It means 'Nameless'. It's just a placeholder for now. So... about that sword...”

He drew it slowly, the straight edge gleaming in what little moonlight there was. “We used swords for training back at the warrens. We didn't have a dragon protector or anything like that, but with our alpha, we didn't need one.”

I scoffed. “This the same alpha that condemned you to death?”

“No, his son: Arian. When our alpha went to attend to some business, Arian got his chance and branded me an abomination of the clan. He was weak, but more slick than oil.”

I thought about my next question. “Have you ever met your father?” Ubi shook his head.

“What about you? Did you have a clan?” He asked me.

“No, but in the world I come from, there used to be a whole bunch of clans, but they weren't like a pack. They were like armies, all vying for control over a spot of land no bigger than... well I'm still not sure how big some of these places are.”

“Mom used to tell me about when dragon's fought over the land of Gem Fido. She said for about a century the skies were a battleground.” Ubi pointed at the sky. “Every night, you wouldn't be able to see the stars because of the fire.”

“When you think about it, very little really differentiates the worlds we live in. This world's just a few steps behind technologically. Everything I've seen here I've seen back on Earth: slavery, crime, hierarchy, corruption, and desperation. Broken families and fragile dreams.” I leaned over the banister and sighed, same scene as the last, just a different conversation. I looked across the frail yet harsh landscape of Gem Fido.

“Maybe we could fix it...”

“Fix what?”

“Research magic to help bring back the old Gem Fido.”

Ubi scoffed in disbelief. “You can't raise the dead, not when they're right over Tartarus. Your friend was right about the whole geo...”

“Geothermal energy.”

“The land is just too hot. All we can do is pick through the underground, and hope we don't burn.” When he mentioned it, somethings didn't really make sense. The Oblong Tomb was potentially a mile deep, and yet we haven't even felt a rise in temperature. Why was it that the Oblong Tomb was unaffected by the geothermal energy?

I started to grow weary and finally decided to go back to bed.

“Goodnight, Ubi. I hope we can make headway on finding your mom.” Ubi looked back and smiled slightly.

As I traveled back downstairs, the air felt a bit calmer, as if something had finally been laid to rest. The cabin was quiet, save for a few snores and sniffles coming from bunkers. I made it to my own room soon enough and dropped onto the bed.

It was then that I heard a loud ripping noise and something slammed down onto my face. I scrambled to my feet and grabbed what had landed on me. To my surprise, it was a scroll wrapped tightly. I sat down at the edge of my bed and opened the seal on the scroll, unfurling it. It read as such:

Dear person who gets this letter whom I shall dub as 'Ben',

I have just written this to inform you of your imminent demise... Wait, wrong message. What I meant to write was that I've written this to add a bit of interest to this thing-a-ma-whazit. As I have actually no idea what will result in my doing this, just know that I will be watching you very closely for the hilarity that will ensue.

Hugs and Kisses,

An Agent of Chaos

P.S. Follow me on Twitter @DatFluffyPup

A few motes of dust fell into my nose from the letter. After a fit of sneezing, I sniffled and crumpled up the scroll, tossing it into the trashcan. Keith told me about spam mail a while ago, but I never expected it to appear here of all places. I rolled over in my bed and went to sleep.

The rest of the night was dreamless, subconscious flickering in and out of a sleeping state, my body felt like it was changing as it got lighter and heavier at alternating intervals, like someone had moved my body into an elevator, and then suddenly morning came.

My eyelids slowly slid open as the morrow salutations woke me from an unstable slumber. I yawned and stretched, flinging off the covers and heading towards the latrine to relieve myself. I pulled up my hakama and let loose the pressure that had built up overnight and sighed, the trickling of urine against the porcelain bowl somewhat mundane but soothing nonetheless.

It wasn't until I reached a paw down to shake that I realized...

… there was nothing there to shake.

Where my manhood should have been was replaced by two fleshy vertical flaps that led to an opening resembling an... Oh God...

I dashed to the mirror and stared at my reflection, completely altered. My muzzle was shorter, long black lashes fanned out from my eyelids, and I looked down towards my chest...

=Eol=

I had stayed up last night, thinking of all the warnings that Aoi and Ubi gave me before we got to Bitsburg.

'Why didn't I listen?' I asked myself. 'Why? Did I think I could help?' The question turned over and over in my head.

'Aoi's hurt because of me, it's all my fault.' If only I had stayed behind, I wouldn't be in bed, and Aoi wouldn't have gotten injured trying to save me.

'I didn't even apologize for disobeying orders, I was too busy trying to make myself look good.' Maybe Ubi was right, maybe I am just a bur-

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!” My ears turned to the point of the screaming; the voice was muffled, but undeniably female.

“Doctor!” I shouted. The surgeon woke up with a snort. “Get help! Someone's in trouble!” The doctor pulled down a call horn to his muzzle.

“Keith, you there?”

“Yeah, you hear that screaming too?” Keef garbled.

“It sounded like it came from the wing where Aoi's in,” I added. “Can you send someone down there?”

=Keith=

“I'll go see what's going on.” I got up and took a shot of double espresso. As I was about to leave my room, something came to my mind.

'The wing Aoi's in didn't even have any women in there, most were moved to the other side of the ship. So who-'

My train of thought crashed as I head a rapid pounding of steps headed towards my door.

“Oh God in heaven, please just let that be the bass about to drop...”

=Aoi=

“Kono yarou!!! (You SHIT!)” I screamed, bringing my paw back.

My fist smashed through the door to Keith's room, shattering the frail barrier and colliding cleanly with Keith's face. I felt part of the cartilage in his nose give, as well as a few teeth dislodge themselves from his gums under my fist. The air around my fist warped and expanded outward, followed by a screeching whistle as the impact sent Keith flying back into the far wall, his body making a clean indentation in it.

Steam hissed from Keith's unconscious body. Part of his face was caved in as the broken teeth slowly dropped out of his mouth.

I tied him up and waited until he regained consciousness before beginning my interrogation. He groaned, a busted lip sealed with dried blood.

“Alright, Keith, now, I'm going to give you two minutes to explain to me what the hell you did to me.”

He regained a bit of cognitive focus before answering. “Ah... Aoi? Is that you?”

“Of course it's me, shithead! Now what the fuck did you do?!” He coughed meekly and returned my searing gaze with a weak, glazed expression.

“Man, I didn't do shit.” I pulled out the letter from last night.

“Then what the hell is this...” I held it up to his face, his head turned slowly, reading the words.

“What the hell? Dude, you must have gotten some weird pills or something, because one that's not my damn handwriting, and two the Twitter name is DatFluffehPup, do I look fluffy to you?”

“Then who sent it?”

“The hell should I know? Listen man, either apologize or get me a bottle of jack, cause right now, it seems you're in the wrong for punching me almost as hard as Chuck Norris's chin fist.” Rather unsatisfied with his reasoning, I untied him and grabbed a bottle of hard liquor to hand to him. He uncorked the bottle and splashed his face with it, then got a good look at me.

“HOLY SHIT!” He dropped the bottle, pointing a shaking hoof at me. “Are you... I mean... did you... I mean... YOU HAVE TITS!” He flinched when I raised a fist. Ubi and Eol came in shortly after, drawing their weapons.

“Who are you?” I turned around to face them. Their jaws and weapons dropped to the floor immediately as they saw my changed appearance.

I pulled up a chair and sat down, rubbing my temples with now slender digits. My clothes barely fit, and the bandages on my arm hung loose. I had to constantly shrug to keep my haori over my shoulders. I got a glance at Eol, having rolled in here on a wheelchair. It was nice to know they cared.

“It's me, guys.”

We all sat down to breakfast. Stitch gave the courtesy of redoing my bandages and fixing Keith's face.

“I'll try and fit you in to get you some replacement teeth, Keith,” Stitch commented before leaving us.

I briefed everyone on the matter of my sudden change in anatomy.

“So, the letter is the only clue you have?” Eol asked.

“That's right. I don't know what it was, but when I opened it, some dust or something fell into my nose. I thought it was just old parchment at first, but the dust seemed packaged in here.”

“Do you mind if we see the letter?”

“You can look but don't touch, it might still contain traces, and I don't want anyone else getting... you know.”

“Rule 63'd?” Keith blurted.

“What?” We all asked.

“Rule 63 of the internet, for every character in a world, there will be either the genderbent version of that same character, or an instance of that character becoming genderbent. Apparently, you got the latter case.”

“Oh.” I folded up the letter. “In any case, we need someone who can analyze this, and find out what exactly happened.”

Keith covered his mouth with a hoof, stifling a giggle. “Hey, not to be 'inconsiderate' but do you think it's perma-”

“IT'S NOT PERMANENT!” I shouted. A snicker escaped Eol's lips before he slapped his maw shut with his paw. Ubi remained composed, but a bit uncomfortable. One of the cooks brought in our breakfast: eggs, hash browns, and a strange pastry.

We ate our breakfast in silence, Eol and Keith exchanging some looks as if making unspoken jokes at my expense. I didn't see what was funny about me completely changing into the opposite sex. Right when I was about to finish the last of my breakfast, Keith opened his mouth to ask:

“So *ahem* Aoi, it seems you're now a mmmmbeyetch that likes mmmbana-OW! GODDAMMIT!” I stabbed his forehead with a fork before leaving in a huff.

I confined myself to my quarters for the rest of the flight back to Gem Fido. Ubi brought over some clothes to fit me, a traditional robe that looked like a blue silk kimono, as well as a finely ornate sash.

“Where did you get these?” I asked.

“There was a couple on board who heard about your... problem, and donated some souvenirs that they had brought with them. The clothes are straight from a land from the east, across the ocean.” The stitching and patterns were too precise and too similar to just be a mere export.

“Did you happen to catch the name of where they vacationed?”

“Didn't ask.” With that he left, ever blunt, ever silent.

For hours I scanned the letter sent, trying to pick up little nuances and the like within the seemingly haphazard text, but found nothing. Reasoning led me to believe that another human wrote it from the way Keith mentioned something about Twitter, what I learned later was a social networking website.

There were the few hours that I also spent coping with the new situation, sorting past frantic panicking of negative hypotheticals, reaffirming reality with checks to make sure this wasn't some cruel nightmare, and cradling myself to a tiring rest after a breakdown after the reality checks passed.

The Oblong Tomb was in an absolute uproar when we arrived. One part because of the capture of the Mare in the Iron Mask, 99 parts because of my new status. My new anatomy was rather awkward to get used to: I had less muscle, more “hip”, and a strange gait to my usual pattern of walking.

We met with Varg, who unsympathetically roared with laughter. “Well, I can certainly say you've taken me by surprise, Aoi. You look a lot more... 'feisty'.”

“Insult me again and I'll neuter you in a heartbeat,” I growled.

“Relax a bit, after all we're here to celebrate. You've done a good thing for the clan, Aoi. As promised, you can have a pick of some of my finest men to join your clan.”

“Keep your men, the way you put it sounds like you're trafficking slaves.”

“Oh? Well in that case, allow me the courtesy of officially housing you and your clan until you decide to finally found a warren of your very own, without any fear of overstaying your welcome.”

“Very well then.”

“Oh yes, and I'd be happy to provide some more useful information, as well. Such as this.” He tossed me a rolled up newspaper. The newsprint was black with white text, and in one of the pages was something that was in fact priceless information.

Wanting to see the Spectacle of the Century? Come to Fowl Weather Cove for the money match of a lifetime. Place some bets as the legendary dragon slayer 'Griffin the Griffin' takes on this month's victim. A vicious white dragon from the volatile lands of Gem Fido...

A grin of excitement filed across my lips. I looked up at him.

“You're not the only one who can get information, after all, our clan's of the very earth of Gem Fido, we hear every sound that breaches our land,” he proclaimed with a smug look. “I must be heading off now, we still have a criminal to judge. I'd appreciate it if you were to be part of the tribunal, after all, you were injured by those mules, too.”

“I'll think about it, and thanks for this.”

“Think nothing of it.”

I met with Ubi in his room. He was polishing his sword, a crestfallen expression on his face. He looked up for a brief moment before training his eyes back onto his blade.

“What's with the smile?” He asked in his graven tone.

“What's not to smile about? The sun's nice, everything's going well-” I walked past his bed to the window “-and we just found your mother.”

He paused right then and there, whetting stone dropped to the floor. He looked at me with a face of half excited and half doubtful. I pulled out the newspaper, turning to the article.

“This is her right?” It must have been painful for him to see the picture of his mother, bound in chains, wounds adorning her captured form. He clutched it with shaking paws, slowly going over the article word by word, his face—once impassive and cold at times—now evolved to one of rage and irrationality.

“That... that... slack-beaked piece of dog shit was behind all this the entire TIME?!”

“I don't think so, the date on this newspaper was quite recently, and this paper right here-” I took out the newsprint I had read over the night before my grand transformation “-says that Captain Griffin has been in a mental hospital for the past few months now. Now unless a bird can be in two places at once, we have an imposter.” I turned to him, his pupils now in livid slits, his paws threatening to tear the article into pieces. “After we get settled, I reload, and my arm gets back to functional level—should be another day or so—we go immediately.”

His arms stopped, his rage was slightly quelled, and he looked up at me with tears in his eyes. “Aoi, thank yo-”

I held up my hand. “You can thank me when we've rescued her, but now we have some planning to do. After all, with my wounded arm, and Eol out of commission for the next few weeks, we need a more coordinated effort. We can't have anymore loose variables.” I stared out of his window, to the now familiar landscape of Gem Fido. “I'm seeing this through. After all, I promised, didn't I?”

I turned and was met with a soft hug from Ubi, who wrapped his arms around me like a lonely child does his mother. Small tears dropped from his eyes onto my fur, as he buried his face into my chest. Even with the dramatic change in anatomy, I still towered over Ubi by about a foot. After a few seconds, he broke away as if somewhat ashamed.

“I-I'm sorry.”

“Don't worry about it.” I left both newspapers on the bed and left.

No matter how violent or cruel the world may seem to someone, there remains the subtle, delicate miracle of a random act of kindness. Be it charity, compassion, or simply good news shared, that miracle can be felt long after the moment passes. Even with ten thousand sorrowful memories, with that single, seemingly infinitesimal miracle of a smile, the world seems less cruel, less violent, and less desperate.

=Ubi=

I couldn't believe I just did that. I-I just didn't know what got into me when I-

He didn't seem offended by it or anything, but- I'm not even sure I should still call her 'he' now or what. She seemed okay with it, but I shouldn't have done that. She sounded just like mother. Whenever she would talk in that soft voice, it seemed everything was alright, that nothing bad could ever happen.

It was shameful of me to even do that. We were taught never to approach an alpha so casually like that. What was I thinking?

It shouldn't matter anymore. What matters is that she kept her promise.

I picked up the piece of newspaper off of the bed and looked at her picture. They had her in chains, in iron. Those griffins in the picture were taking advantage of her. She would never hurt a fly if she didn't have to. But they hurt her, she didn't do anything to them. Nothing. Why were they hurting her?

Stop them.

They were hurting mother. They were hurting her. They're trying to kill her.

Slaughter them all.

=Aoi=

I went to visit Eol at the medical wing of the warren. He was in bed number nine. I sat down next to him to talk.

I sighed, wanting to clear the air. “Listen, I'm so-”

“No... don't... It was my fault,” he confessed. “Ubi was right, even though he's a bit of a flea itch sometimes. I should've just stayed at the ship, like you said. If I'd done that, you wouldn't have almost lost your arm trying to save me, and I wouldn't have gotten hurt. If anyone needs to be sorry, it's me... So, I'm sorry.”

I smiled lightly. “Actually, had you stayed behind, I would've died. If you didn't see the razor wire on the second floor, I would've gone right through.” I paused before continuing. “We could go through a whole lists of apologies and 'what-ifs', but it it wouldn't equate to anything. What's done is done, and what matters is now. So how are you feeling?”

“Well, leg still hurts like a parasprite chewing on it, but at least it's not getting worse,” he chuckled. “You're not looking too bad yourself. In fact, you look better than when you were a male.” I punched him lightly for that remark.

“Bark! That reminds me.” He opened his mouth to speak but then closed it. “Ah, biscuits, I lost it again. It'll come to me sooner or later. It's something important, although I can't remember what.” I shook my head and retired to my chambers.

Evening came, morning followed, and I had gotten a decent rest. When I had woken up, I had a blanket tucked over me. I was wondering who performed the gesture and why before I remembered that winter was almost here. With another day having passed, Stitch finally cleared me to remove the bandages. There was a sizable scab that had clotted over the wound. He redressed the wound with a smaller set of bandages that fit tight around my arm. I could finally move it, but was limited to basic functions, lest I open up the wound again.

During breakfast, Ubi, Keith and I discussed how exactly we were going to find Ubi's mother.

“Okay, so from what I've heard from some of the ponies and griffins from the Dominion is that Fowl Weather Cove is suppose to be—and you're not gonna like this—the largest criminal outpost in the Dominion, so out of control that not even diplomacy, much less law enforcement even reaches there,” Keith briefed.

“So, we're going into the lion's den then? Easy enough.” Ubi looked at me in disbelief.

“Easy?”

“No different than yakuza. But just because it looks easy doesn't mean we're not going to need help. Keith.”

“Yeah?”

“Load up, you're coming with.”

At this he smiled with an proud air. “What happened to me not being able to handle you guys?”

I paused to consider it. “That was before you finally got into the mindset that this is a lot bigger than just you. Consider this your time to shine. We move out after breakfast.” As I finished my food and left the table, I could almost catch a glimpse of a smile curling Ubi's lips.

Back in my room, I was debating amongst myself on how I was going to bring my equipment. Kokuryu would be the easiest as well as the Corvat, but the rope dart and the gun would be difficult. I couldn't really keep the pistol in place with a silk obi.

“Why not just fit it into your- *THWACK* HOLY SHIT!” Keith shouted as I threw a dagger at him, missing his face by a millimeter. His knees were shaking and he had just wet himself all over the floor.

“How many times do I have to tell you?” I scold. “If you don't knock, I think you're an assassin.”

“Right. Gulp. I-I-I think I'll just... leave this here.” he placed a leather belt on my dresser and left with a waddle. The belt was actually a holster, two pockets for two spare clips and a sleeve for the main gun. I was starting to wonder where everyone gets all these things, first a kimono from a couple, then a holster when I need it the most. It felt too convenient. For now, though, I slipped on the belt, tucked in the gun inside the holster, and redid the obi over it.

The thought however, remained plastered in my mind, bringing back a small conversation.

=2 years ago=

“Hey man, do you ever believe in karma?” Keith asked while tinkering through a few lines of coding.

“What?” I was doing morning exercises.

“You know, do good things and good things happen to you?”

“Complete bullshit,” I rebuked. “If Karma existed, you and I would be six feet under.”

“Hmm, still as pessimistic as ever, I see. Let me pitch something, what about universal karma?”

“I'm not following.”

“Like for example, the universe has a way with balancing itself out, for every tragedy that happens, a miracle takes place. For every period of good fortune, there's a crisis just around the corner.”

I looked at him dubiously. “So, for example, me losing my parents—according to karma—made someone super rich?... you've been working too long. Take a break, get some rest, I'll call you when I need you.”

“Hear me out here. Have you ever felt the feeling that the world was somewhat making up for bad things that have happened...” He paused to think over the events I told him about my life.

“Right, your life has only gone from bad to worse.”

“Is this one of your excuses to try and make me think things get better or some shit like that? Because if it is, you're doing a piss poor job of it.”

“Gotta hold on to something.”

=Present=

At first, I had the notion that things were looking up for me, that this world was somewhat rooting for me, cheering me on as a fan does for his favorite football team. I waved it away though, consistent to the reality that karma wasn't real.

After loading up, I took a towel and wiped off Keith's piss and tossed it into what seemed familiar as a laundry basket. From there, Keith, Ubi and I assembled at the dock of the airship.

“Leaving so soon?” Varg asked.

“Of course, we're off to the Dominion. I don't like to leave promises long standing, lest I renege them.”

“Fair enough, happy trails.” We boarded the HMS Rolling Thunder and met once again with a now somber looking Captain Valve. I had heard the news from Eol that someone murdered his brother on the ship, essentially saving the crew.

“Are you feeling okay?”

“Hmm, what? Oh Um... yes... I'm fine,” he lied. The emotion that's hardest to hide is sadness, because even when you think you've stolen your heart from the world, as long as sadness is there, it still manages to show.

“If you need to talk to someone, feel free to let me know. I'm no therapist in the sense of the word, but I do know what it's like to lose family, and so do Ubi and Eol. Better to talk with people who know what you're going through than to those who only think they do.”

I left him as he headed towards the bridge. He trotted along the starboard side of the ship, running a hoof along the brazen banisters. It made me remember that Valve played a major part in building this ship, most likely along with his brother. I could see it in his crestfallen visage, hours spent with a brother who treated him dejectedly, building a war machine that would soon become the younger's grave.

Keith told me that they took Steam's body and cremated it in the engine room. The idea of cremation was crass, yet somewhat fair. A life, that had its own personality, its own soul, its own thoughts and ideas that from them would be chosen to become actions that affected the world in a miniscule and monumental scale, was rendered to ashes. When I had conferred this to Keith, he quoted a verse from Genesis: “Remember that you are dust, and to dust thou shalt return.” He was right in a sense: at the microscopic level, we're just made of base elements.

“It's the soul that's important,” he said. “Bodies live, grow and decay, but a soul lives forever. We burn the body, return it to nature, but it's the soul we mourn for. When a person dies, we can no longer hear it, no longer speak with it, and in a sense, it becomes isolated, cut off from the world it has spent so much time in becoming what it is. It shouldn't really matter whether we burn it, eat it, or throw it off the edge of a fucking cliff; a body's a body. We don't remember a body—unless you're a secular ass-hole—we remember the soul.”

So it goes.

On the terms of the politics of invasion of the Dominion, there were no politics. The Dominion had fallen into a state of complete anarchy, Princess Celestia having dissolved their government long ago. It was a feudal country: various criminals sects vying for power, and no shortage of criminal activity to fund the illegitimate campaigns. Since the Griffin came along, it now became more mainstream for pirates to raid villages, most headed by none other than-

“We're under attack!”

My head whipped towards bow of the ship. Ten bogeys headed towards us at top speed. The first of the group touched down on deck, drawing a bow.

“NOPONY MOVE!” I reached down for my rope dart before an arrow arched over my head and skewered the griffin's head straight through.

“What the-” A flash of silver bounded over my head as Ubi came to the front, bow drawn back with three arrows notched at once. He sent all three into three more bandits just as they landed.

He bought the crew enough time to regain their senses and spring into action. Soldiers sprang up from the galley, wielding bows of their own to return fire, but the arrows fell short as the remainder of the group broke formation and banked from the line of fire. I brought out my rope dart and wound it tight around my shoulder.

“Aoi! Under the ship, left side!” Increasing the tension on the wire, I sent it flying across the deck as one of the bandits rose just above the banister, nailing him in the eye. A brief memory flashed in my mind, back to those silly 'memes' Keith was going on about.

“Aoi, if you ever find yourself in a position where you're able to drag someone towards you, please, just once, say-”

“GET OVER HERE!” I shouted as I yanked on the wire, making the griffin barrel over the banister as he screamed. Ubi vaulted over the wire and brought back his drawn blade with a battle cry. The hooked end of his blade ran through the bottom of the griffin's chin, yanking the entire head from his spine.

I pulled back the rope dart and whirled it around my elbow, and with a twist sent it in a wide arc as another tried to blindside me, the sharpened edge slicing through his throat. I grabbed his leg as he grasped for his bleeding neck and twisted the furry limb, slamming him down on the deck.

“Aoi MOVE!” I sidestepped just as Ubi sent an arrow grazing past my ear to take out another just behind the one I brought to the floor. Three remained.

The air grew quite, I held my paw up to halt all the motion on the ship. I loosened the wire on the rope dart and spun it slowly in a loose cradle between my digits. A flap! I released the cradle into the air as three arrows headed straight towards me. I pulled forward on the end of the wire, drawing the airborne cradle tight as a noose. Arrows shattered before they reached me. The crew retaliated with a barrage of arrows that killed two and injured the third.

I nodded my head to one of our griffins on board to retrieve the falling survivor. Within a minute, we had our prisoner.

We dropped him down on deck, arrow protruding from his wing near the base. I pinned him down with my foot. It was then that I had gotten a good look at him.

“Griffin?” On closer inspection, he just had dyed feathers. The markings on his chest and face were completely different. Ubi dragged one of the bodies to me.

“They all look like that puffy idiot,” he stated. Every single one of them had done their feathers in the same hairstyle as Griffin, with feathers died the same shade of red.

“This'll be the story to tell the captain. He's got a fan club now, the bad kind.” I pressed down hard on the griffin's chest. “Now, what to do with you?”

“You might as well just kill me,” he coughed. “Heheh, We've got the real Captain Griffin on our side.”

I blinked, then laughed. “I know for a damn fact that that's complete SHIT! But I'll humor you, where's your captain?”

“Up yours, BITCH!” The diamond dog portion of the crew gasped, many wanted to slit the griffin's throat right then and there. Ubi in particular had a fiery anger within his eyes. With a bitter silence he squatted down close next to the griffin, pulled of his comrade's head from his blade, and let the spinal fluid drip into the griffin's eyes. Immediately, cries of intense pain rang out across the ship: a shrieking mix between a caw and the cry of a banshee. Everyone grit their teeth and plugged their ears from the screeching sound, save for Ubi, who seemed unphased even though he was closest to the source.

“Where... *drip* is... *drip* Griffin...” he whispered in a rasping tone. The griffin continued to scream and writhe underneath my foot. “Answer... *drip* me... *drip* now...”

“KILL ME!!! KILL ME!!! PLEEEAAAAASE, JUST KILL ME NOW!!!” At this Ubi turned the head in his paw and jammed the beak into the griffin's eye, blood spurting everywhere. After a few seconds of wriggling, the bandit's movement slowed to a twitch and screaming quieted to gurgling. Then... silence. Many of the crew members nearly vomited from the spectacle, some succeeded in doing so.

Stitch came up on deck with a bucket and a large wooden box. He signaled to me that he wanted the deck clear.

“Alright, everyone, nothing to see here, just... head on down to the galley, I think it's almost lunch time.” Those who didn't already throw up did so now over the banister. It seems the only ones that kept their mettle were those from Varg's clan.

We cleared out the main deck in ten minutes, and Stitch pulled his untold duty of being the undertaker. He dissected the corpses on the ship for organs, placing them in a box filled with ice. Ubi and I spent this time wiping the blood off of ourselves. After harvesting salvageable parts, Stitch tossed the bodies overboard and started mopping the deck. Adopting a 'don't ask, don't tell' policy, we left him alone for the clean up.

Keith rushed down towards where we were and intercepted us as we headed down towards our quarters.

“Dude! That was... that was...” he had trouble finishing it.

“What, just like one of your video games?”

“No... BRUTAL! I mean, you just... and Ubi just... How the fuck do you even DO Shit like that?”

“You've experienced violence before haven't you? In those realistic fantasy games you always play, couped up in your room, shouting random shit whenever you decapitate an elf or something.”

“Yeah, but those are VIDEO GAMES! They're not real!” That's right... Keith never really did see me on a job before, he was just on the sidelines, all the way. The most he's ever scene of violence was on the news, from a distance. “But you... I mean... those niggas-”

“-Were trying to kill us, rob us blind. THIS was why I didn't want you coming with me.” I sighed. “You thought that all you'd ever see of war was honorable shoot outs and shaking hands, and you were lucky enough that all you tasted was an honorable shoot out... but it's never just that. Once you've gotten blood on your hands, not metaphorically, but actual blood on your hands, and you really see how cruel the world can be in war.” I placed a paw on his shoulder.

“Consider this lesson one of traveling with killers: we're monsters that think.” I walked passed him.

That's right... that's right... poor Keith didn't know what he was getting into. All these years, he thought I was the secret agent from a movie, that he was a sidekick helping, and that no one really dies who doesn't deserve it. He thought he wouldn't have to see the bloodbath outside, that he could simply just work from a room behind the scenes, or take little action in the field that would make him a badass. Even when he died, he thought he died like a hero, defending himself like a champion, and eliminating targets. The trauma of war is one part killing, and nine parts the reality of it. Not all deaths are meant to be nice and involving the least amount of blood possible. Sometimes they look cruel, sometimes they make the victim as unrecognizable as possible, and sometimes they cause you to get blood on your hands.

People have often asked me how I could live with killing so heartlessly and so cruelly, with the many skulls that have lined my wall, the many casualties that I can hardly call trophies. I reply to them: why don't animals hold funerals? Speculation taught me that they've already given the respect the victims deserve by making their death mean something. A soldier's death is given meaning by his cause, an animal's death is given meaning by the nourishment its corpse provides, and an innocent's death is given meaning by the warning and reminder it leaves behind, so that it never happens again. Why don't animals hold funerals? Because there's no point in burying dust...

So it goes.

I write a letter to the captain, explaining about the recent development of things in the Dominion, how he's managed to indirectly bring up radicals that idolize him so. I roll up the scroll, seal it with wax, and give the scroll to a young unicorn to send to him. She sends the letter with a twinkle of her horn, and off it goes with a flash. The unicorn's name was Aftermath, and she said her special talent was tying up loose ends.

“Loose ends in what?” I asked her once.

“Well, anything really. When somethings not quite finished, I can finish it. I was the one who made sure the everyone in Ponyville had their stuff replaced when the parasprites attacked.”

I spent the rest of the day, contemplating on the fact that I was a female. Many things were rather foreign to me, such as the thin build my arms possessed, the extra “fluff” that adorned my chest, and the psychologically daunting emptiness of not having all of my “equipment”. Besides the obvious differences, I had a shorter length of hair, by about two and a half feet, my tail had become extremely bushy, like having a plume that followed you as it swished back and forth.

The brisk evening led to a cold night as the sun dipped below the horizon. Keith had informed us that we would be arriving near Fowl Weather Cove in the morning.

“Wait, near?” I asked earlier.

“Yeah, it's a cove not a dock. The area's a sort of an abandoned infrastructure, with places to hide out in, part of the 'city' is in-laden into the nearby mountains, so it's kind of like a warren, except each cave houses one person. Outside the mountain side, there's a whole web of rope bridges, and entire terraces stationed on poles like watch towers. TL;DR, there's nowhere to park the damn thing. You and whoever you're bringing with will have to walk.”

“You're not coming with?”

He shook his head. “I thought about what you said earlier, Aoi. I think it would be best for me to stay out of the fighting. Here.” He gave me another flare gun “Just like last time, you need evac stat, send it high, I'll come faster than you can ship your pants at K-mart.”

“O...kay?” Most of the time, I had no idea what Keith was talking about. Regardless, him staying was a double edge: no heavy fire support, but he's less of a liability this way. At the very least though, he's starting to get it into his head that following me ISN'T worth it.

I went over the plans in my head. From the intel we had gathered, someone was impersonating the captain. This Griffin would most likely be the leader behind this whole thing. I had a hunch where to go to first for information, maybe even lead me to the source.

For every den of sin, therein lies at least three of its roots: greed, a gambling joint of some sorts, where money changes hands constantly; envy, the homes of those living in it, buried in wealth, yet having want of more; and lust, a brothel, where love is for the highest bidder, and plenty of it to go around. The gambling joint would most likely be the Colosseum, where Ubi's mother is held, however, we have no idea where it is, which leaves the other two. Individual nests of envy, or cesspools of lust and money?

Little did I know, I had cried myself to sleep last night, but from what I could not remember. All I knew was I had red stains on my pillow the next morning. I performed my morning routine, went to the mess hall, and dined with Ubi, Keith, and Captain Valve.

“Before we land, Aoi, would you allow me a brief word with you?” He asked courteously.

“Sure.” After breakfast, Valve and I talked in the Captain's quarters.

He was straightforward with his approach. “Pardon me for asking, but who did you lose?”

“My parents.” The question was so commonplace for me that I could answer it now without batting an eye, it still stung though.

He sighed a guilty air. “Can I be honest with you? I'm... somewhat glad that whoever killed Steam did so. I KNOW I shouldn't, but seeing him like that, seeing him act the way he did, I felt that I had lost him long before he died.” He pulled out a photograph of him and Steam together; the picture taken was a haphazard one arm camera shot of the two. Both of them were smiling.

“I should have seen the signs: shutting himself out from the world, the way he stopped smiling. I had... inklings but never full conviction. I thought it was just a phase, like all colts sometimes go through. I didn't know that he had been tormented by those lies that that iron pony or whatever her name is fed him.”

He started to crumple the photograph with his hooves.

“Don't...” I said. “You're going to need a happy memory.”

“Please... Aoi... When we get back to the warren, could you do me a favor?”

“What is it?”

“If the iron mare gets the death penalty, would you be the one to carry it out?”

“What?”

“Your friend told me that you're quite the avenger. Please, it would mean a lot to me if I knew someone like you-”

“No,” I interrupted. “Don't take it personally, but asking me to carry out your vengeance is complete cowardice. Besides, wouldn't it be more satisfying to run her through yourself?”

He tapped his hooves together nervously. “Well, you see...”

“Hahaha! Don't tell me, you think that by getting me to do it, you don't get blood on your hands? Pheh, bourgeoisie never change,” I sneered. “Tell you what, take this knife. You're coming with us.”

“M-Me?”

“You bet your frilly ass, you're coming with us. Don't worry about a thing, we've got you covered. Now, if you can manage to finish off just one person with this knife by the time we get this mission over, then I swear on pain of death, I will carry out the execution of the Mare in the Iron Mask myself.” I spit on my paw and offer it in a pawshake. “Do we have a deal?”

Long minutes passed before Valve finally made a decision. He place the knife back in my paw with a regretful look.

“No deal.” I smile warmly in response.

“So you get it now?” I put away the dagger and crossed my arms.

“Fairly so, it's not what mother and father would have wanted anyway.” What he said struck a sour chord with me.

“I guess they taught you to be kind?”

He nodded. “Even if they burned your entire house down, you should always courteously greet them with a smile. Sadly, Steam wasn't born yet to hear their dictum. Heh, how foolish of me to even suggest something so atrocious to you.” He started to laugh uneasily before he sat down.

“They gave you a precious gift, Captain,” I snickered. “I'm glad you decided not to lose it.”

“Indeed. I never expected to hear such wise words from someone such as-” He stopped himself. “Erm, sorry.”

“I'm used to it.” A bird flew by the window before disappearing behind the turbulence. With a land full of mythical creatures, I wondered if they could understand what we were saying. “I should probably go and prep for the landing. I trust you'll be able to get us down smoothly?”

He perked up when he heard my challenge. “Why of course! After all, I built this ship, didn't I?”

“Then I'll let you get to it,” I said before taking my leave.

Our landing zone was a small brush of wood that would clear out into the cove and the beach it resided on. The rising night time gave us enough cover to move in unnoticed. Soon we entered into the Dominion's underworld, blending in with the locals participating in every manner of frivolity, debauchery, and depravity.

I lowered my voice to a whisper, “Remember Ubi, we're not locals here, DON'T ask for directions, else you're going to draw all kinds of suspicion.” I messed up his hair for good measure, giving him a rugged look. A drunken zebra came up and slapped a pamphlet into our chest, advertising the coming fight taking place at the Colosseum. I could feel Ubi tense up beside me.

The populace of the nightlife consisted of over what seemed like hundreds of griffins, some posers of the captain, a lesser part of diamond dogs, and what seemed like a few trashy gangs of zebra rouges. One of them was waving a fan around while telling a dirty joke. I snatched the fan from him and brought it up to my face.

“Ubi, you must never speak of this again, but for this night only...” The next words I would never live down. “Act like you own me.”

“What?”

“Like I'm a geisha.”

“What's a geisha?”

“A... prostitute.”

“What's a prostitute.” I stopped in my tracks. It hit me that Ubi knew nothing of the underworld.

“Just follow my lead.” Right then a slurry diamond dog came up to me, breath reeking of alcohol.

“Hey there, bitch, feel like howling tonight.”

I threw on a seductive timbre and replied. “Sorry, puppy, I don't do handouts.” I winked at Ubi.

“Oh um, yeah, you want her, you go through me.” Ubi poked the dog as an intimidation tactic. I slapped my paw against my forehead.

“Oh yeah? Barking Gamma!” The drunk dog pulled his fist back. Ubi dodged effortlessly and grabbed his leg, flipping him over onto his face. The crowd roared with laughter. Amidst the laughter was a single set of hooves clapping. It belonged to a griffin, clad in a dressy outfit and top hat.

“That's some handler you got, miss.” He scanned my body up and down with a lecherous gaze. “How'd you like a gig?” he asked, wrapping his arm around my neck.

“First off, talons OFF!” I lowered my voice, adding a viciousness to my tone. “Or would you like your beak broken?” He backed off at once. “Second, is it worth my time?”

“Of course! I'm a connoisseur of sorts, Captain Griffin himself hired me to find the most exotic women to entertain him.”

I passed a warning glance at Ubi as he started to lunge for the griffin.

'Keep calm, this is our chance.'

“How much?”

“Hmm, I've never seen a dog like you before, how about 600,000 bits?”

“Please, I've had kings fawn over me with gems worth ten times that.” I needed to sound convincing, and the best way to do that is speak the only words of reason the underworld denizens speak: haggling.

“Hmm, you drive a hard bargain.” he sniffed me. “Hmm, flowery scent, not too strong.” My eye twitched as he was sizing me up. I wanted to kill him right there. “Excellent posture, and form as well. No hint of anise. You like to keep clean don't you?”

“A fragrant scent just makes the experience much more enjoyable.” I spread out the fan and flapped it a few times. A few others caught scent of it, namely other diamond dogs and started tapping their feet on the ground. I looked at Ubi, who also seemed a bit embarrassed actually.

“Very well. I think I can cut a deal. One million up front, and two million after you've 'entertained' Captain Griffin.”

“Captain Griffin? Is that the Griffin who's been causing such a ruckus across Equestria?”

“The same.”

“Very well then, as meager a sum it is, at least I'll get to have some fun. I've never had the company of a griffin before. Where is he?” He was our main person of interrogation, the sooner we got to him the better.

“Oh, don't think you're getting off that easily. He's a very picky griffin. You've gotta pass a screening test.”

“Screening test?”

'If I ever see that griffin again, I will dunk him in tar and wring him out, then tear his feathers out one by-'

“Aoi, you don't have to do this,” Ubi begged.

The screening test was a dance on the runway with many more “candidates”. The more the crowd went wild with each of their performances, the better the chance they got at the “big prize”. It sickened me to no end.

I've known the events that occurred behind rosey red curtains, and the shameful acts of those involved...

=3 years ago=

It was a job working with the police. The incident was of course 'off-the-record' for the obvious reason that I was in fact a civilian. The job was in Japan's most yakuza heavy neighborhood: Kabukicho.

I was set and ready for this job, dealing with dragon-heads was my forte at this point, as the underworld was well aware of me. It was because of this that the police picked me specifically. They offered me a hefty sum of some 12 million yen, enough to pad my expenses for a while.

Ever since the crackdown of Kabukicho, there had been a lull in yakuza activity. However, that didn't stop crime, as somehow drugs managed to get into the country, and the police believed that little old Kabukicho was behind it all, apparently by a man they suspected as one of the most dangerous ringleaders, known as “Big Daddy”.

The investigation was easy, not that difficult for crime leaders to reveal themselves when everyone on the darker side of the streets wants you dead. All it took was me to walk into the right bar at the wrong time of night.

“Tanoshi desu ka? (Having fun?)” I greet in a nightclub containing suited mooks, scantily clad women, and the overwhelming stench of bad sake. And here I was, little old me in nothing more than a black dobuku and white hakama, on the wrong side of town. Sure enough, everyone inside drew their guns pointed right at my head. But all it took was a press of a button and the police force came storming in. The place was cleared out in less than a minute.

What shocked me though was the back room that was just behind the bar table, leading to what was the most-

=Present=

“Aoi, are you alright?”

“Huh? Yes, I'm just fine.” My turn was coming up, right after a female griffin that looked a bit like Gilda, down to the markings. She seemed scared, afraid even. The griffin in the tophat, known as “The Showgriff”, tapped me on the shoulder.

“You're on in two minutes, darling,” He said in a tone that could be described as lusty.

“Remember, Look Sexy!”

Two minutes was actually ten seconds as I was suddenly pushed by a few stage hands through the curtains onto a runway, floodlights almost blinding me immediately. I whipped out the fan I had to shield my eyes.

I had the immeasurable displeasure of having Keith bringing home smut magazines that had things such as swimsuit models and the like. The only pleasure being that I burned them every week to make rich fertilizer for the plants I kept in the apartment.

“HEY! You could learn a lot from these magazines!” Keith protested once.

“Like what?” I pressed, a Victoria Secret magazine bursting like kindling above my lighter.

“Posture for one, real women glide across the floor, they don't walk.”

“I'M NOT A WOMAN, YOU ASSHAT!”

“Yeesh don't get so defensive. So I like to look at girls, don't tell me you haven't peeped at panties before.”

“As a matter of fact, Keith, I haven't, and I don't want to start now.” My mind went back to the present as eager faces were staring at me to make an impression.

'Glide, don't walk.' After a few steps, it was all getting into the mentality of what men liked. I slowly lowered the fan as my eyes got used to the sudden brightness of the stage, each step a tip that Keith always ran on about came across my mind, adding to the list of instructions.

'Men love a good tease.' I brush back the lower part of my kimono to reveal a brief flash of my thighs. The crowd went absolutely mad: howling, barking, wolf-whistling. After looking at the audience, the griffin portion was only mildly impressed.

'Nothing says, 'take me I'm yours' like some loose clothing.' I tightened my shoulders close to my torso to let the left part of my sleeve slide down just below the shoulder. THAT got the griffin's attention. I could hear a loud harmony of panting as the dogs caught sight the display, and suddenly everyone in the room was at the edge of their seat. However, the griffins weren't fully impressed, that much I could tell.

I meanwhile scanned the audience for the “real” Griffin. Right there, back center, sitting in the house seat. At once I could tell he wasn't the real one. He had a more bulkier build, the only real defining difference was the markings on his face and chest; where Captain Griffin had a V shape, the imposter's was more of a curled goats horns at the ends.

My sleeve was coming a bit to far now, so I pulled it back up over the shoulder. That was the clincher. Every single person in the room suddenly went in a huge, massive, lust filled uproar. The scent of hormones hit me dead in the face. It almost scared me for a second.

After frantic wondering on what the hell was going on that suddenly made me a lot more attractive, it hit me.

'Is it more attractive to put clothes ON?” I tested this by tightening my kimono over my chest. The roaring applause grew to deafening levels, and I saw what I was looking for: the fake captain was impressed. This was my chance.

At the very middle of the room was a single pole for the contestant to give a two scene dance for the audience. At once a somewhat strange bit that flashed across my mind was a line that Keith shouted at the top of his lungs one night when I was trying to sleep.

“GET ON THE FUCKING POLE!”

I straddled the pole with one leg, slowly sliding down it with a sultry expression on my face. I spun around it like I had seen a girl do once in a night club and ended with one arm reaching out to the audience, a lone finger beckoning right at the “captain”. The floodlights were designed to make the contestants sweat, and the lap dance to give the audience a bit of a pheromone high. Little did I know, many diamond dogs had their vests held up high to catch even the slightest drop, then bring it to their nose and huff the scent like a bong hit. Think a couple even fainted. I spun back around and was about to make my way back stage when all of a sudden everyone shouted simultaneously:

“MORE! MORE!” Hook. Line. Sinker.

I paused at the curtain before turning around and announcing in my best regretful impression, “I'm afraid that's all for tonight, boys. However, It'd be a shame if I didn't get to have fun with at least ONE person tonight. I can think of a certain Captain that's in need of a bit of some pleasurable company. Am I right, Captain Griffin?”

He stood up, holding his arms out to silence the crowd.

“I could use a bed warmer for the night before I take on a dragon,” the imposter said with a tone a pitch lower than the actual Griffin.

“Shall I meet you backstage then?”

“Let's skip the pleasantries, I'll see you in my personal abode in say, an hour?”

I give him a wink behind my fan. “Count on it.”

Back behind the curtain, I almost wretched at having done the spectacle. The rest of the girls had gone with other mates as second hand choices. Ubi was busy taking a drink of water from a dish they kept out as refreshments. He looked up and saw me, wiping his muzzle.

“So how'd it go?” I responded by grabbing a nearby trashcan and throwing up into it. After emptying what little I had in my stomach, I grabbed a towel and wiped my face.

“We got him,” I groaned. The griffin with the top hat came.

“Excellent show, I must say. I never saw the crowd this riled up before.”

“Good.” I nodded to Ubi, who grabbed the griffin in a choke hold. “Cause you're never going to see it again.” Ubi took his sword and slit the griffin's throat cleanly. I sidestepped to avoid the blood and shoved the towel into the griffin's neck.

“Connoisseur my ass,” I say, leaving the griffin to choke on his own blood. Ubi and I make our way to the supposed love-nest.

We found the place: an oak door with lavish decoration etched on the post. The place was a large cabin like structure with a porch. Ubi and I take breach positions on either side of the door. I take out my pistol and knock on the door. The door opens slowly. The imposter walks out. I hit him with the butt of my pistol...

...he doesn't flinch,

Immediately I'm hit with a fist to the abdomen, winding me. He twists my arm and brings me to my knees, wrenching the pistol out of my paw, the gun slides just out of reach.

“Well well well, look what we have here?” Ubi comes from behind with a punch, but it lacks in power and barely causes any damage. The griffin turns around and grabs Ubi by the neck and lifts him up into the air, slamming his head on the low ceiling and knocking him out. I turn my neck a bite savagely into his wrists, he lets go of my arm in pain and grabs Ubi's sword from it's sheath. I roll pull out my rope dart, wrapping the wire around his legs and trip him. He manages to graze the sword across my chest. I snarl from the pain. I scramble away with the gun in hand.

All of a sudden, he stretches his legs apart, snapping through the wire like it's cheap string. He grabs me and lifts me up against the post, talons tight against my throat. He stares at me with eyes permeated with rage and triumph.

“Heheheh, you think I'm an idiot, don't you? You don't think I know the dozen something clans that have have it in for Griffin the Griffin? But you did have me surprised though, I didn't expect the to send a female after me.” He leans in close and sniffs my hair. “And such a fine one at that.” I send a kick into his abdomen with a large fraction of my slowly draining strength, he doesn't even break eye contact.

“Sorry, bitch, but I've got abs of steel, A beam could break on me and I would think it was a mosquito bite. Such a feisty one though.” He starts to run his free hand over my shoulder.

“Let's take this off, shall we?” With a single stroke, he tears off the left half of my kimono. “Mmm, some fine haunches.” Ubi groans as he lapses in an out of consciousness. He turns to look at him.

“Huh, still awake? Well then you can just sit there and watch.” He turns back to me, licking his beak. “Since I'm a nice birdy, I'll start off slow.” He presses up against me, I can smell the hormones fuming off of him. “Where do you like it?”

Sensing full desperation, my neural system kicks into overdrive, adrenaline floods my veins, my arms surge with lightning. At once, my claws extend and I dig them into his wrists in reverse. Bracing my hind legs against the post, I push forward, the claws ripping off feathers and flesh off of his forearms. I pull back my legs and deliver a thunderous kick to his chest, pushing him back into the wall of the cabin. I reach behind my back and draw Kokuryu, the blade glistening blood red.

He slowly gets back up, seething in pain.

“Where the cluck did that come from?”

“RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!” I bring my blade down, wind screeching around me, and cleave it without mercy, the resulting glaive of air slicing the house, and the griffin's uninjured arm, cleanly in two.

I grab the gun off of the ground and take no time in aiming, sending the entire clip into each of his remaining limbs, effectively severing them from his body. I drop the magazine and load a fresh one, and aim it at his head now. The griffin was crying now, in absolute pain. The section of the house that I had slashed caved in, kicking up dust everywhere. I heard Ubi get back up.

“A-Aoi?” I paid him no mind, but his voice was enough to bring me back somewhat to my senses.

“Where's the dragon held?” I ask the griffin.

“I... you... what?” I aim low and shoot off one of his testicles, sending a new wave of torture through his body.

“WHERE IS SHE!!!” He coughs through his tears before whimpering his response.

“She... She's underground... cave... behind the hut... That... that's where the Colosseum is.” I let loose another round into his other testicle. He screams in excruciation for mercy, which I gladly provide by sending a round into his eye. And yet he still survives. I decide to leave his bloody, scrotum-less shell on the porch.

“Finish him off, Ubi,” I order. Without hesitation, he takes his sword of the ground and drives it through the griffin's skull. “This show's over.”

We're long gone by the time the crowd comes to investigate the body, down into the depths towards the Colosseum. Ubi and I marched through the cold cavern. Ubi didn't ask about my kimono. At this point, I didn't care. I had taken out the Corvat from the remaining half of my kimono and stuck it between my teeth. Tears were streaming down my face in torrents now. My lips were drawn back into a feral snarl.

Ubi walked along side me, his blade in one paw, a few daggers at the ready in the other. He had enough sense and respect to not speak. Occasionally, he would take a glimpse at me for a few moments, but turned his attention back to the direction we were walking in. The air seemed to die down in front of us, like the calm before a storm, forming a warpath for us to take.

We came to two guards protecting the entrance to the Colosseum.

“Stop right where you- *BANG*!” Dead. The other drew his sword, but was perforated in two before he could make a stance. Dead.

We broke down the door to an empty Colosseum. Audience members a day early, we had no match to spectate. The sand of the arena was still, neatly paved. The area had a heavy pressure, an emptiness that intimidated simply by existing. The pit was modeled just like the Roman Colosseum. But today, no lions would be tamed, no gladiators would be fought, no naval battles reenacted. Today, a family would be reunited.

There she was, chained up in a pitiful state, curled up in a sleeping ball, scales having slowly lost their brightness, her figure ebbing down to near skeleton proportions. Ubi ran as fast as he could towards her, dropping his sword and bringing out his bag of diamonds that he kept with him.

“MAMAAAAA!!!” he shouted. “MAMAAAAAAAAA!!!” The dragon slowly opened her eyes, almost having lost all hope.

“U... U-bi?” she hissed weakly. Ubi squeezed through the bars and went up to her.

“It's me, Mama! It's me!” He untied the bag and held up a diamond the size of his massive palm. Unlike the other diamonds he usually carried, this one had a slight luminescence to it. “I brought food!”

She could barely open her mouth to speak. At once, Ubi went up to her muzzle and desperately pulled up her scaly lips. He managed to lift up her mouth enough to stick the gem gently onto her tongue.

“Swallow!” She was so weak, she could barely move the muscles in her neck to swallow. So Ubi massaged her neck to force the gem bit by bit down her throat. At once, she seemed to slowly regain her strength. At this, Ubi did what I had never seen him do.

For as long as I had known him, his expression almost never fluctuated, barely revealing sadness, anger, or even joy. Now, with his family again, his face was wet with tears of joy, lips curled upward in a smile ripe with jubilation. I made my way over to the wall next to the bars that contained her—picking up Ubi's sword along the way—and pulled the lever to release her.

The wall behind her slowly shifted and moved in layers, first brick then entire stone carapaces, until after what was about 70 meters deep of solid rock peeled back, moonlight shined in from the exit cave. I walked with them to the outside world, beyond the barriers of the cove, past the mountains, and pulled out the flare cartridge from my holster, firing it into the air.

The relief crew had brought a large amount of diamonds from the warren, donated from Varg's personal stash. After tending to Ubi's mother for a few hours, we were able to nurse her back to flying capabilities. Keith and Stitch met us down by the beach where we were holding off.

“Hot damn, you made-” He looked at my torn clothes and bleeding chest. “...it.”

“Just... in... time...” I gasped before blacking out.

=Ubi=

“It... it's been so long...” I cried. “I missed you.” I hugged her, tighter and tighter.

She really did keep her promise

It was just like old times, I remembered every single detail, the cave, the diamonds, just me and her. We had so much to catch up on. Thanks to everyone who brought diamonds for us, mom got better in no time, and we were able to go back to the warren.

“Ready to go?” Keef asked. I nodded.

“Ubi, why don't you ride with me.” My eyes widened. I had never really ridden anything before.

“Um... a-are you sure?”

“Don't worry, I won't let you fall.” Her voice was all the convincing I needed. It was back to that voice, always back to that voice. It was a voice that made you feel like you were floating on air, that nothing could ever go wrong. She leaner her head low and I climbed on top, the scales on her neck becoming soft.

“Now hold on tight.” And she took off, into the air. She hovered in place for a bit. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine.” Really, I was scared out of my mind. But somehow, in the air, it just felt right. Not on an airship, where it just feels like wind, but actually moving with it. It's not like old times, not like the past at all. Instead, it's something new. Something new and strange and scary and exciting.

“Alright, We've got Aoi on board, let's take off.” I got a look at Aoi when they carried her on board. She looked happy, lying there on the stretcher. Her clothes were torn, and she was still bleeding, but she looked happy.

I felt kinda bad, seeing her like that. She went through all that for me and mom. I could have done better. I could have. Why didn't I? I let myself get caught by that overgrown feather head and left Aoi completely defenseless.

“Is there something wrong Ubi?” Her voice didn't force it from me, but I couldn't bear to hide it from her.

“Yeah. See that wolf down there on that weird carry bed?”

“Yes?”

“She was the one that helped save you.”

“Oh? We should thank her later.”

“It's not that,” I muttered. “She did almost everything: found where you were, got rid of the bad people, everything. Even when I tried to help... all I managed to do was screw up. At least Eol did something.”

“Is this 'Eol' your friend too?”

I nodded. “Yeah, he was with her from the very beginning.”

“I see.” The air became nice and soft, like a pillow, or maybe even those little marshmallow snacks at the castle. I wondered if mom made the air soft like this. “Don't worry, we all have our chance to shine, sooner or later.”

“It's not that either. It's... ever since we met, she's been nothing by nice to us, teaching us how to be stronger and better, and even talking with us whenever we were sad or angry. I didn't even have the courage to trust her, at first.”

“You felt guilty?”

I nodded. “Even though I never really say Aoi as one, she's always thought of me as a brother.”

Mom thought about it for a second, then came up with an idea.

“How about this,” she started. “Since she talks to you sometimes, maybe you should try talking to her.”

“Like what?”

“Things you've told me over the years.” It was worth a try. I could thank her, if nothing else.

I thought about it more and more. More memories swimming in my head. When Aoi and I first fought, when we saved the Gala, when Eol got Aoi drunk at the Gala, when Aoi tested my loyalty. A memory came back, one where Aoi told me something.

'She's your mother, and by extension, mine as well... I see you as family... I'd rather die than see any of you hurt under my arm, or to see you abandon me when I need you the most.'

I finally saw it. I finally saw it. Why Aoi went to go to such lengths just to help mom, even after going through all that. I felt even more guilty. All this time, I was afraid that Aoi would end up like Oles, when he's been the exact opposite this entire time. He really did put himself in danger for us, going so far as to keep us away from danger whenever he could.

It's about time I trusted him. This time, as family.

=Aoi=

My eyes flickered as I woke up once again in a hospital bed.

“Is this going to become a regular thing?” I croaked. I slowly lifted my head up, but could not find the strength to keep it up for more than two seconds. I've found myself in hospital beds often, some for stays of less than an hour, some for entire months at a time. Even then, I've never gotten truly used to the smell of a completely sterile environment. The artificial cleanliness just smells wrong, like something was sacrificed to achieve such close-to-godliness of a single room.

It was unsettling, but not unfamiliar, to have no one at your bedside when you wake up. The moment feels like you've woken up to the end of the world where no one survived but you, and because you're bed-ridden and hospital-bound, you can do nothing except wait for either fate to commence or you to recover, whichever comes first.

I had lost track of time, my body ached for nutrients to repair itself. As for the cut on my chest, the wound was shallow, but still hurt like all hell. I could feel its length, from below the 5th rib to right above my liver. I couldn't move, my arms felt like pudding, bones rattling in place.

With what little energy stores I had left, I slightly increased my production of blood platelets, just enough to scab the wound a bit more. It felt like I was still bleeding out, every breath was painful, amplified by my exhaustion. What relief I could draw was the fact that we were able to save Ubi's mother. Mission Successful.

Back to my memories I went, delving into its warm familiarity. The memory rebuilt China from the ground up, starting with the airport. It was there where I had finished my overseas studies, as well acquiring a taste for the local cuisine. Two chefs had set up their cooking stations near the gate, creating artful displays of skill with wielding knives, searing ingredients, boiling broths, everything that wowed the crowd with delicious scents and sights.

Out of kindness, one of the chefs offered me a bowl. The broth smelled of rich fat and lovely herbs. Steam rose into twirling wisps of vapor. I took the pair of chopsticks the chef gave me and lifted a large wad of noodles high above the bowl, the yellow strands dangling helpless about the soup. I lifted the noodles towards my mouth, hungry from a long day of traveling through customs when suddenly-

“Hey AOOOOOOOIIIIIII!” Goddammit. “We got you get-well gifts and stuff.” Keith and a large portion of the crew came in with presents wrapped in cheap paper. Any sense of rest was soon thrown out the window with the arrival of a man who could not bear to keep his mouth shut long enough for me to have a good night's sleep.

“Well, technically they're not from us, they're actually from someone else. Mister Ram Stein or whatever the hell this guy's called. Aftermath, do you mind?” The pony I had met a while ago lifted the letter above my face and unfurled it, allowing me to read its contents.

“Dear Sir Myoujin,

One of our agents heard your voice at the Gala and thought that you'd be the perfect member of our band and-”

“Toss it out.” I groaned weakly. “I'm not dealing with this shit today.” They took my impatience as their cue to leave as they left the boxes at the foot of my bed and left. Only Aftermath stayed.

“So what do you want?”

“Just tying up a loose end. Here, another letter came in for you.” This letter I opened myself and read it, from Griffin:

"Dammit... I do NOT need some crazy wannabe's going around and ruining my good name. I do things MY way. If they wanna join, tell em to head to Signal. If not... I trust you'll use proper judgment. Meaning, if they're just misguided, 'guide' them to a correctional facility, and if they're assholes looking to cause trouble, exterminate with extreme prejudice."

“A bit late, don't you think, captain?”

=Rainbow Dash=

When I got to Bitsburg, there was so much going on I couldn't even tell who's who. It seemed everyone was waiting in line for the same train, but didn't know which train was coming. I tried to look over the crowd but got swept up in it. I didn't want to do it, but right now, Bitsburg wasn't leaving me any choice.

I went up to what looked like a ticket booth and asked the pony inside for... help. “Have you seen a tall wolf anywhere?”

“Came and went, friend of yours?”

My ears drooped down. “Yeah.” I turned around and slowly made my way back to Ponyville, the few times I EVER go slow.

=Aoi=

I thought of Rainbow Dash, wondering when she would write back. It had been about a month and a half since I had last sent the letter. Had it gotten backlogged or lost in the mail, I didn't know. But what I did know that now that we had a few alliances to both of our clans, Varg and I could rest easy for a while. At the very least I could recover.

Once I had gotten better, I could write her to schedule a visit to her in Ponyville. Unfortunately though, I've had no time at all to analyze the letter that turned me into a female. I'd hate to wonder what would happen if she saw me like this.

Eol visited me sometimes in his wheelchair. Another week, he said, and he'd be out of the hospital wing and onto the training grounds.

“I'm not gonna let what happened last time happen again,” he resolved. “Only way to do that is to get even stronger.”

“Strength isn't everything, Eol, just keep that in mind,” I warned. He had overwhelming strength at his command, and skill as well, but he poorly lacked judgment. But I couldn't fault him for wanting to be better.

It seemed like every day, I see a bit more of my younger self in Eol: wanting to better myself, wanting to know all about the world through books. But now, with Ensin gone, what dreams lie in that adolescent mind of his? What fantasies and goals motivate him to keep on living? What does he seek to achieve by staying with me?

Maybe... just maybe... he's striving for the same thing I am.

An attendant was able to provide me with an ink brush and some parchment. With a lot of force feeding—much to my chagrin of having Keith shove an entire cake down my throat at one point—I had regained a bit of movement in my arms. Stitch told me that I'd have to take it easy for a few more weeks, that I'd be up by the middle of winter. I took this time to recuperate and build back a bit of muscle movement by painting some small, sumi-e paintings.

I was not a very good artist, but it did help me with focusing on small details, making sure each contour was perfect, balancing symmetry and asymmetry, and picturing in my mind landscapes to prevent dead space within the painting. It was a form of active meditation that I had learned training with Master Mitsuru, one part to build a conscious level of precision and care, the other part to culture a sense of beauty within yourself. Some of the students did this with painting; others, poetry.

The first ink piece I painted was a small zen garden, populated with Sakura trees and some various blossoms. Contours done in black ink while the color overlaid the lines with transparent watercolors, the blotting effects slowly traveling out in capillary waves to form flowering blossoms. I was somewhat proud of this effect that I achieved with the paint. It stood to highlight the reaction of a single disturbance, the chaining consequences of a minute event, and the change of an overall whole over time from a defiance of an individualistic piece.

Another of my visitors was Ubi, who visited me almost every day. Sometimes to talk, other times to thank me again and again.

“Ubi, you've already thanked me enough, I think the count's nearing a hundred now.”

“Because this meant the world to me,” Ubi admitted. I had to admit, having his mother back did wonders for his personality.

The clan had been overjoyed with having a new dragon protector, one with benevolence rather than greed. Ubi had apparently inherited his taste from his mother, who would eat only diamonds. This was somewhat beneficial, since this left the rest to go to every other diamond dogs. Ubi would spend long days with his mother in the construction bay where the airship used to be.

Ubi filled me in on the details.

“At first, we had no idea how we were going to fit mom through the caves, but when she heard that, she said it was no problem. All of a sudden, she... well... shrank just enough to fit inside. Then grew back again when we got to the docking bay.”

“Shrank?” I asked dubiously.

“Yes, shrank, some of her scales came off and she just got smaller. No one had any idea how she did that. All she said was magic.”

It made sense, except for a vital detail. “Didn't you say they all lost the ability to use magic except for fire breath?”

“Yeah, but some managed to keep something called 'inherent' magic, something unique that they could do with what little control of it they had. Every dragon can breathe fire, but every dragon has a small thing that they can do extra, something not taught.”

“Instinctive magic?”

“I think so.” He lifted up his paw and breathed on it. “Do you think I'd be able to breathe fire someday?” He had a hopeful look like that of a child.

“We're in a world of multicolored talking ponies, dragons, griffins, and everything else mythological on the west side, after experiencing all this, I've come to believe anything is possible.” It was starting to come a sort of meme of mine. But his question did bring about the feeling of wanting to see how deep the rabbit hole really goes, to see what is possible now with magic and the skewed disregard for actual physics.

He was like a new person, Ubi. At first, it was a cold exterior filled with occasional contempt for everyone but himself, but after the rescue, he was more open, more trusting, and above all else, happy. I fulfilled my promise, and I didn't want to see it broken.

“You're really happy that you've got your mother back, don't you?” I asked with a gentle smile to my face.

He nodded gleefully.

“You know, you could stay here you know. Varg gave us a permanent guest room here. Here, you're safe, you could catch up on a lot of memories with your mother, and make many more.”

“Aoi, what are you saying?” He started to catch on, but his voice crept with distress.

“Like I said before, you never had to come with me at all, but you did, I'm guessing most likely to find your mother, am I right?”

“Well, yeah, but-”

“And now you've got her back. You don't have to follow me anymore if you don 't want to. What matters to me is that you're safe.” I wanted to get Ubi and Eol out of this. Eol would leave whenever he was done with following me, if he ever did get tired. But Ubi, he hated killing anyway, what made his paw not hesitate was the sheer fact that he would let nothing stand in his way. I didn't want to expose him to that anymore.

I could see it from when we first met. He was two years my senior, yet he had the innocence of a child, and the tragedy of being uncared for. Deep inside, he never really grew up. Something else was growing up for him, what made him cold, what made him mechanical. What it was, I do not know, but it was slowly trying to shut him out, or make him face reality. What he needed, all this time, was nurturing. I could never provide that for him. Only a parent could. Now that he's gotten his innocence back and shed that automaton that had been living his life, I don't have anything left to do for him.

He's a child again, gone back in time to those days when he was back in the cave with his mother, except me and Eol are with him now. He could forget about us, and we would have no hard feelings if he left. He could do what he wanted until he chose to face reality on his own terms, and then maybe grow up to be a hero one day, maybe find us once more.

For now though, I wanted for him what I wanted for Eol, to play in the backyards of the world, have his knees scraped from falling down, have his mother comfort him, have his entire childhood experienced from square one when it was yanked from him by those bastards who wanted him dead.

Eol has already tasted reality, tasted its cruelty and chose to finally play its game. For that, all I can provide for him is the open door to walk away whenever he felt like it, but Ubi, Ubi can still cloister himself back into what he calls the old times with his real family: a mother who can teach him the ways of the world, its rights and wrongs, its cruelties and beauties and then finally, when the time is right, release him into the world armed an prepared to take it head on.

Yes... in Ubi, I saw myself when I was young, when I had the cruelty of the world forced upon me, and how I had neither savior nor guardian angel to lead me back home. When I was unable to take back my childhood and instead skipped the milestone of adolescence and was forced to become a man at an age where children were suppose to be learning their very first kanji's in school.

In my contemplation, I didn't realize that Ubi had started to cry.

“Aoi, what are you saying?”

“I'm saying ask yourself if you really want to stay with me. You don't have any reason to anymore, do you?” At this he lunged at me and squeezed me tight.

“I DO,” he sniffled. “You mean as much to me as mom does. You're my family too! I'm not leaving either of you!”

At that point I realized the one thing about innocence is it's naivety. It's the truth that children listen to emotion rather than reason, and that there's no use talking sense to them. It was also at that point where I could no longer breathe.

“U-Ubi. C-could you let go? I... can't... breathe!” He realized it too and let go. I gasped and inhaled two lungs full of air once more.

“I guess it can't be helped then.”

More and more I painted, each piece I asked the nurse to hang up and dry, then squirrel them away in a case for safe keeping in a small portfolio of leather, bound together with string. More and more, Ubi visited, as Eol stayed in the training rooms going through a rehab program. I, meanwhile, was still recuperating in the hospital. By this point, I had regained some limited movement in my legs again, but the movement was slow and nonsupporting.

When he visited, we usually talked for long whiles, but sometimes we didn't talk at all. I would paint, he would sit there watching me paint. One day, when I was painting a small seaside, I asked him.

“What's your mother's name?” The question came suddenly, vaguely from a sense of nostalgia.

“White Dust,” he answered. “What about your mom?”

“Midori.” She had lovely green eyes, a shade slightly paler than Elena's. My mind wandered to the realm of what could have been, imagining what it would be like had Elena and I married, with mom and dad at our wedding. I placed down the finished seaside piece to dry and started on another. “Do you remember the cave where you and your mother used to live in?”

“It was small, just tall enough for mom and me, we had a small hoard packed as a bed, and the rest against the wall in a ring around us. The mountain it was in was a bit larger, more like a small hill really.” Unbeknownst to him, I had started painting in his home, skipping the ink and going straight to color.

“Go on.”

“I remember the area around it kind of like the grass around the Oblong Tomb, except more of a light blue than green. I always wondered why it as like that though. I used to pick flowers down by the stream and plant them back in the cave. They didn't last though.” I kept on painting, the detailing on flowers were hard to replicate, but I made do with a few brush blots. “You?”

Without skipping a beat, I picked up the drying painting of the seaside and handed to him. “I still remember the address. The number, but not the exact street. 2412. The beach there had a nice, loamy sand that felt good between your toes, like grainy carpeting. It felt amazing when the sun would heat up the beach during the day and in the evening, my parents and I would take a small stroll along the shoreline.”

After a bit of silence, another question came to my head. “Tell me, why were you so embarrassed when you hugged me before we left for Fowl Weather Cove?”

“Well,” he mumbled, “We were taught never to approach a superior in indecent ways.”

“Heh, Well for one, I'm not your superior, and two, hugging's not indecent.” I paused to carefully fill in the lines for the entrance to the cave. “In fact, a hug's the most special form of contact I know, borderline a kiss. It shows that you truly care about someone.” I handed him the painting when I was finished. “Does this look right to you?”

He held it in his paws, a tear started to come to his eye. “Can I.. keep it?”

“All yours,” I granted with a smile.

The recovery had taken several months or so, with keith warning me never to overuse the rush again.

"Aoi, you barely had enough energy to even wake up, we had to pump you with full of glucose just to make you wake up, that's basically injecting cake into your bloodstream."

"Relax, it's only been a few months right?" Keith rubbed his head. "Right?"

"Actually, you'be been sleeping in increments of weeks or more." My eyes widened. "I'm dead fucking serious, in a single day you used about close to 500,000 calories. You don't just recover from that."

"So you're saying, every 'day' that I've been in this hospital-"

"Has been every week, to be exact, every week for the past 6 months," Keith admitted solemnly. To think, I had spent most of my recovery actually sleeping for days on end. However, Instead of lashing out on why they didn't tell me before, I just went silent, and dismissed them.

What the hell had happened in those days where I had been asleep? It took a stern glare at both Ubi and Eol to spill the game. Varg had actually been pulling some strings in my stead, what with Ubi's mother agreeing to be the warren's dragon protector, he still owed me. So whenever someone was wanting to see me, Varg just gave the old "away on business excuse". No one was going to challenge an undead wolf, unless another dragon showed up. Thankfully there wasn't. They also revealed the over 50 letters that Rainbow Dash had sent, and me, being thought comatose, was unable to answer them. So...

"YOU DID WHAT?!" I yelled.

"We... kinda answered them for you?" GOD FUCKING DAMMIT!

"Just bring me the letters..." I snarled, visibly steaming under the hospital bed sheets.

For those that had been already answered, I forwarded a reply to explain their shenanigans, but for those yet left unanswered, I decided to write back new ones, to make up for lost time.

It took a lot of effort, as well as about 2 more months of rehabilitation--including learning how to walk on my own legs again--but soon I was able to move on my own again. Stitch finally discharged me from the hospital with the green light. At once, I started to make my way through the warren to its entrance into the glistening landscape. It had started to snow on the Oblong Tomb. I had forgotten that winter had come, hadn't even noticed that my winter coat had come in, once again giving my appearance an acute tint of light blue. The sky took its traditional shade of gray, the air contained a chilled breeze that nudged the falling snow aside at a steep angle. I closed my eyes, breathed in the nostalgic scent of crisp vapor and felt the cold bite of packed snow beneath my paws. Just like the winters in Asakusa.

But with that nostalgic scent came a new feeling, a feeling unlike anything I've ever felt before. I burning heat that warmed me from the inside despite the cold.

At first, I thought it to be a fever. But then I started to become... irritable. This was coupled by strange longing that I knew nothing about. After a few more moments in the snow, I retreated back to my room. Along the way, I walked past many diamond dogs who suddenly started to take more of an interest in me, their eyes trailing my every movement. I started to become uneasy. Was it just paranoia, or were those diamond dogs ogling me?

A few weeks in a bed makes you stagnant, sluggish, and lazy. I went down to the local training room, as I had heard from Keith that Eol was using the range, and started sparring staves with some of the locals to rebuild a bit of my muscle. Many were somewhat hesitant, I took no mind though as I started to trounce competitors left and right. But something felt off about my movements. I felt more aggressive, more dominant, and more violent.

“Alright, who's next?” I challenged, but none of the males would step forward. Odd. I breathed a sigh of light exhaustion and replaced the staff on the weapons rack. Little did I know, Varg was waiting outside, with a snickering grin.

“You have no idea what's going on do you?”

“Should I?” I growled.

“For your health, I hope so. But here's too public.” And so we moved to a rather quint little cavern. With no one in earshot, he burst into laughter.

“What... the... fuck?” he wiped away a tear of enjoyment.

“I don't know what happened to you, but I'm actually even more astonished by how little you really know of our kind.” I didn't find it funny at all.

“Ahem. Considering you're not familiar with our customs, allow me to explain, and bluntly while I'm at it: You're in heat.” It hit like a bombshell. I was utterly confused.

“What?”

“The reason everyone's so afraid to go near you is because you are... we call it bold. You've got so much stuff, you could pick any single one of the dogs here to be your mate and all we could say is, 'Sirius guide you'.”

“Mate?! Oh no, you have got to be kidding me. You're saying that I'm ready to mate?” This had to be some kind of a prank.

“If you don't believe me, check with the doctor,” he chuckled. “Also, be careful who you pick, because right now, being a female wolf, it's how you would say... 'Ladies Choice'. Once day two or three rolls around, every single Alpha, Beta, and Gamma in this warren—maybe even in some of the others nearby—are going to go crazy trying to impress or please you, or even just to get a good whiff of you.”

Sadly enough, a check in with Stitch confirmed it.

“By the swollen vulva you have, it's clear that you're in estrus,” he stated bluntly. Keith and Eol were nearby when he said this.

“BWAHAHAHAHAH! You? In heat? It's just.. no... I'm not gonna say it...” Keith was rolling on the floor, laughing.

“THAT'S what I've been meaning to tell you!” Eol remembered. “I needed to tell you that wolves have their estrus cycle a few months before our season so that you could prepar-OW!”

“WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME THIS BEFORE?!”

“I tried to, but then I forgot.”

“Moreover, why aren't you affected by the pheromones or whatever?”

“I'm eighteen,” he deadpanned.

“And?” It took me a few seconds before I realized. “Wait, what age do diamond dogs mature exactly?”

“Around twenty,” Eol answered. No wonder.

“So how exactly would we have prepared for this?” I ask.

“We could've stocked on Aniseed.”

“What's that?”

Keith spat out in a fit of laughter. “It's opium for dogs.”

“HOW THE FUCK IS OPIUM SUPPOSE TO HELP?” I yell.

Keith explained, “Well, think of it this way, you know how many people take drugs on occasion to help 'take the edge' off of something? It's kind of the same way with urges. Tension builds up in that 'edginess' and drugs help relieve it... somewhat.”

“I think I have some stores of Aniseed somewhere.”

“Don't bother. I'm not about to get addicted to something just to stave an urge.” At the moment it didn't seem that bad, just a few tingling sensations here and there. “How long does it last anyway?”

Everyone answered, “About two weeks.”

Two weeks, I could handle that.

“Where's Ubi?” I ask. He was absent for my examination.

“Well he's right outside, but we couldn't let him in,” Eol replied. “He's twenty-six you know.” I wondered if he heard everything that was going on in this room.

Keith added one little aside. “Hey, little advice, if it does happen to get a little to much for you, you know you can always... you know.”

“What?”

“*coughclopcough*”

“What are you...” I looked down as he was doing a stroking motion with his left hoof.

“NO! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU!”

“Hey, I'm just saying, as long as you cry afterward, it's perfectly alright.” I had no idea what moral standards Keith went by, and I don't even want to know. In the meantime, I had my own anatomy to cope with.

At first, it was manageable, twitches ignored or forgotten, heat easily subsided with an extra cold shower or two. But the week soon dragged on, and the estrus exponentially grew to unbearable levels. I started to take notice of the others, those leering eyes wanting me, directed right at me as I made my rounds through the warren. Dogs started to go at odds with each other, sometimes picking fights for my attention, sometimes working harder, some even going to far as to discreetly flex to make themselves seem stronger and more attractive. The other end of the warren's attention was also directed at me, but this end was more composed of the looks of jealousy and contempt.

It hadn't even been past three days, and I was starting to feel the drive clouding my judgment. Hints of lewd thoughts often flashed across my mind. By the fourth I stopped making the rounds and exercising and was simply content with keeping to my quarters, fanning myself or opening the window to let in a breeze to cool me down.

But that didn't stop it, by the end of the fourth, there had been over a thousand gifts to me of gems of every kind, etched with various names that I couldn't even read. Thankfully, I had Eol, Ubi and Keith to keep me company. During the visits though, I could see Ubi blush whenever he set eyes upon me, but didn't speak about his feelings or even trying to make advances on me. I wondered if he was aware of the predicament.

“Listen Aoi, you're going to drive yourself nuts over this whole thing, just get down with a session of Play-colt or Play-wolf or whatever the hell passes for a porn mag these days and let loose.” Sadly enough, though, most of the conversations revolved around my current drama.

“I don't 'let loose', Keith. If you had any sense of discipline, you'd quit suggesting that I 'let loose'.”

“Hey, I've got discipline, but I also know that there's no Commandment that says 'Thou shalt not fap.”

“I think we should stop talking about this.”

“Alright, Jeez, you're wound up tighter than DNA.” Both Eol and Keith started to leave, leaving Ubi to ask:

“Is there anything I can do to help? Can I get you anything?”

“Some soup or something and a big towel.” In my delusional state, I had just asked for remedies to cure the cold. Might as well have been a cold.

He came up later in a few minutes with hot soup and an extra large towel, just as ordered. “Anything else?” I shook my head 'no' and he closed the door.

The soup only helped in settling my empty stomach, while trying to wet sauna myself with the towel only drove the tingling to be more sporadic. I kept telling myself that if I could just hold out for a few more days, then the worst would be over.

=Ubi=

I went back to Sanctuary—Air Dock Zero Keef called it—and sat down with mom on the hoarde. It seemed like Aoi was hurting, bad. I had no idea what was happening to him. I decided to ask mom.

“Hey mom?”

“Yes dear?”

“Did you ever have a friend, who looked like she was sick, but you didn't know what was happening to her?”

“Depends on what the symptoms were.”

“Well, she's been kind of moody lately, and it looks like she has a fever, and I don't know why, but she smells... really nice.”

“Oooh, I see. Well you have nothing to worry about. After all, I went through the same thing when I met your father.”

“Really?”

“Yes. It's just a little thing that all females go through once a year. It's called estrus.”

“Estrus? How do you cure it?”

She chuckled. “You don't cure it, but it does take a special someone to help take care of it. For me, that special someone was your father.”

“Really? Do you think if I do what he did, it'll help A-I mean my friend?” I didn't want her to know.

“Of course it will. Tell me Ubi, is this someone you truly care about?”

I thought it was a strange question to ask. “Of course I do.”

“And does she care about you?”

I nodded. “Otherwise she wouldn't of done all the things she did.”

“Then here's what you do.” She whispered in my ear every single detail, and I remembered every single word. Although, some words were strange, like 'mating'.

“What's that?”

“Mating comes after all that I told you, but only when both of you think you're ready for it.”

“And dad did this too?”

“Of course. One of the reasons why I fell in love with him was that he did it so well.”

“And this will help my friend with her Estrus?” Mom nodded. I got up and thanked her, then made my way back to Aoi's room.

=Aoi=

Another day, another sunset, and another rise to my already high-strung irritability. Ubi came in to my room with a slow creak of my door, slightly blushing, clasping his paws together. I was busy sharpening the Corvat with a whetting stone. I glared at him with half angst but half relief.

“Are you feeling alright?” he asked warily.

“Like I said before, it's nothing I can't handle,” I fibbed. In reality, it was only day five and I had become at odds with my own anatomy, my psyche pushed to the limit with this Estrus. My legs were tingling, my paws were clenching air, my tail was flagging back and forth wildly. It hadn't even been a single week yet and my body seemed to be at its breaking point.

I could tell Ubi was a bit nervous as well. At first, he tried avoiding eye contact with me. I knew full well, though, that even though his mind didn't know what he was feeling, his body sure did: excitement and intimidation all at once. I could sense it from his cautious approach.

“A-Are you sure you're okay?” he questioned. The pressure I exuded was almost enough to make him leave... almost.

“I just need a cold shower, nothing to worry about,” I chuckled wryly. No length of shower, no matter how cold, could even provide the tiniest bit of relief now. The insides of my legs were burning furiously. I breathed out a harsh air, the whetting stone was failing to do its job of sharpening the blade. Keith must have made it out of some memory metal or something.

“If you want me to help with your *gulp* Estrus, I could try something that might work. It's the least I can do.”

I almost yelled at him for even thinking of such a thing, and I knew what exactly he was suggesting to try, but I stopped with an exasperated expression and a gaping mouth. I couldn't bring myself to raise my voice at him. It was only natural for him to want to care about my well-being, considering how strangely I had acted this week. Nevertheless, I tried to send him away.

“I can handle this on my own, but-” I was too late to stop myself. “-maybe you could keep me company?” He quietly took a window seat near where I was.

My lungs felt heavier with each passing hour, the deprivation was getting worse, my muscles felt like turning to jelly. I started to pant.

He stayed silent at first, alternating from watching me work to staring out the window, but as the hours grew longer and longer into the night, he could see me growing more and more desperate. I tried my best to keep my composure, but the bombardment of aches and spasms deteriorated my posture. Gradually, a new scent emerged in the room, tense but inviting. I inhaled this new fragrance, my eyes aflutter. I shuddered slightly, feeling a brief relief wash over me before the desperation came back a hundred fold.

I gave a skirting glance up at Ubi, who was now looking out onto the panorama that the window view provided, his muzzle imbued with a light but noticeable flush of pink. He darted his eyes towards me for but a moment, prompting mine back to the whetting stone. Although the metallic grinding of the stone did absolutely nothing to improve the condition of the Corvat, it did help distract me from the smoldering urge building within the pit of my stomach.

Butterflies turned within, the muscles in my abdomen contracted, and the tingling feeling throughout my entire body became more vigorous, seconds ticking by slowly. The foreign scent in the room soon grew into a powerful, invigorating aroma.

I stopped sharpening to rub my eyes from the sweat pouring down my face.

“Is something wrong?” Ubi asked, worried.

“Just something in my eye.” A clear look at him was enough for me to put two-and-two together. It did relax me somewhat to have him with me, but inadvertently I had transferred my instinctive urges along to him. His fur had turned to flamingo pink, and he had a pleading look in his eyes as if to say, “Let me help you.”

I focused more and more on working with the Corvat. I moved from slouching over the edge of my bed to propping my leg on the bed in an arch and posting the back of the blade on the bedpost. I heard a long sniff and a bit of a low squeak. I looked over to see Ubi covering his muzzle with his paws. It dawned on me that lifting my leg had released an assaulting wave of my own scent into the room. I lowered my leg and continued working.

The hours grew late, towards midnight. The atmosphere became thick and heavy. I was grateful for Ubi having thought of opening the window to vent out the scorching air. Bit by bit, the air became cleaner and more crisp. It eased my tension to have the temperature drop slightly. For the moment, the cooling air seemed like a godsend.

Until a winter breeze came in. That was the breaking point. The sudden wind skirted across my lap, lifting up my kimono, gaseous ice gently kissing between my legs.

*CRACK*

With unimaginable vigor, my fist closed tight around the whetting stone, pulverizing it to mere pebbles. Ubi took this cue and shut the window immediately. I let out heated gasps from a breath I had unknowingly held.

“I'm sorry!” Ubi said meekly. I dropped the ruins of the whetting stone. My heart was thudding inside my chest. I could take no more torment. I got up, folded the Corvat, and locked the door. My arms trembled as they moved.

“Ubi... do you really think you can help me?” I creaked.

He nodded. Blood all of a sudden rushed to my thighs, warming them to a temperature exceeding that of my pelvis. I approached him, instinct firing all manners of driving chemicals through my system, a second mind grew to clash with my weakening resolve, thoughts spewing forth to reason with my increasingly yielding will.

'You need this,' the second voice seduced. 'Let him take you.'

My will brought forth an equal argument, 'No, you're strong, you can get through this, don't debase yourself like this.'

'It's not like a stranger's handing this to you,' the voice cooed. 'It's Ubi, you trust him. It's only a love tap, something to take the edge off, nothing more... Unless you want it to me more...'

I started to lose control, my paws moved on their own and gently pulled Ubi to a standing position. I could feel his heat next to mine. I felt myself melting as he embraced me.

Every neuron fired off endorphins on a massive scale, my lower body shivered with anticipation.

'Yes,' the voice whispered, 'let him set you free.'

He held me for what felt like hours, standing there, his chest pressed firmly to mine. He placed his nose to my neck, inhaling deeply.

I could imagine what he was thinking, but only as a faint whisper that I could not hear, though it rang loud and clear when he drew his long, black tongue across my neck, sliding upwards tenderly along the bottom of my muzzle until finally snapping at the end with a flick. Inside, the voice was cheering. I shuddered intensely, warm with excitement, yet cold at his touch. His heart beat at a slightly faster pace, responding to my pulse. I looked down into his eyes, their friendly irises swimming with euphoria, their color of a liquid sky.

He reached up and began to slide my kimono off of my shoulders, my arms able to feel his restraint.

'Look at him, so shy, so... innocent...'

I turned around, letting my sleeves fall to my wrists. He undid my silk obi, the red fabric gliding at his command out of its knot and cascading onto the floor. He took another drag of the pheromones residing in my hair, holding it in, my odour seemingly intoxicating him. He grasped one arm across my waist and let the other arm skate down my thigh.

I reached an arm back, cradling his head next to mine, and gave him a soft, loving lick. He held me tighter at this, securing me in place. I eased a digit down the length of his face, his fur feeling like chaste satin on my paw pads. With my other paw, I reached down and lifted the bottom part of my kimono to the side. I felt something prod into my backside, but I dispatched it to the back of my mind. I waited, anxiously for this moment. Every strand of fur on my neck stood on end. I bit my lower lip as he ran a large digit across my thigh, the cold touch inching closer and closer before it caressed the full length of my-

'DO YOU WANT TO TAKE THAT INNOCENCE AWAY?!' My will shot through me, and at that moment I cried:

“I CAN'T DO IT!” I pushed out of his embrace. He fell to the floor, surprised and worried.

“Did I do something wrong?” I scrambled to put on my clothes. My morality regained the advantage against my instincts. I rushed to widen the distance between me and Ubi. I hugged myself as tears and shame overwhelmed me, blotting out instinct, barely holding up the fragile wall that kept it out of my conscious for the time being.

“Did I hurt you?” He asked, curled up in a ball on the floor, tail held between his pars in fear.

“N-No, I, you, this...” I sobbed. “Please... just leave me alone...”

“Please, tell me what's wrong?” He got up, reaching a paw towards me. I swerved right and left him to grasp air.

“Was it something I did?” He whimpered, now shamed himself. He tucked his tail between his legs ad lowered his ears. “You're not mad at me are you?”

“N-No...” I cried, averting my eyes. “I need to be alone...” I didn't want to tell him... I couldn't. I slid under the sheets of my bed, curled up facing away from him. All the while, I was patronizing myself. It was wrong of my to ask Ubi to do such a thing.

He refused to leave, and in silent protest sat at my bedside. He ran his claws through my hair while I lay there, guilt and shame and self-loathing amplifying the weight of the blankets. I couldn't help but cry and cry, holding pillows up to my eyes to sop up the blood. All the while, Ubi stroked my hair, once or twice scratching me behind the ears, soothing me.

After a while, the crying stopped, leaving only the tears. It was then that Ubi had worked up the courage to ask:

“Aoi, are you... afraid of mating?” He had hit it dead on the nail, and I was still for several seconds before regretfully nodding, holding my eyes shut.

“Why?”

“Please... please don't ask me why,” I whimpered under the blankets.

“If you tell me, maybe I can help...” He couldn't leave it at that.

“No... No one can help,” I sniffled.

“Just maybe-”

“I SAID NO ONE!” I screamed.

“Why not?” There was a long silence in the room, one that I refused to break. I couldn't bear to expose him to any more of it, any more of the unclean actions of my past. But I felt it, those liquid sky eyes beaming an expression of pleading and worry. I tried to steel myself, shut out his gaze with the rest of the world. I held the pillow even tighter. I was curled up into a small, vulnerable ball of fur, wanting nothing more than to be alone again. But he would not cease that pure expression of simply wanting to help, and so I yielded.

“Because it happened when I was little..." I murmured. "… because it happened when I was raped.”

Author's Notes:

I know that you guys think this might be coming out of left field, I blame myself for not writing it to have seemed more apparent before. However, think of this as a whole rather than a singular isolation. Ask yourself: why does Aoi acts the way he does, why has he reacted to certain things that people did or said concerning this, and what sort of mentality led him up to this moment. I'm not introducing this just to add cheap drama or to ring up sympathy, I'm introducing this because it is and always will be part of what defines Aoi's character.