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Welcome to Black Harbor 2
🕑 Added 2024-01-15 18:38:47 +0000 UTCChinatown on a warm, late Summer night smelled like pot stickers, charcoal, and home. It was Friday and the people were out, about, and buzzing with excitement. Plastic tables with chain smoking uncles playing mahjong were out on every block. Men stood outside karaoke bars hocking their specials, eyeing up their rivals from across the street. Live chickens, rabbits, and frogs were being sold from makeshift markets. You could stand still here and catch over a dozen languages being spoken by residents and visitors alike.
Among all this, patrolled very serious men and women in sharp, formal attire, with full sleeves and buttoned collars even in this weather. They were triads, Tigers, Cranes, and Dragons. Crowds parted around them, the many thousands of us following the unspoken rules of the neighborhood without complaint.
I could barely make it through a block before someone stopped me to chat, uncles asking me for opinions on upcoming boxing matches, aunties checking if I was still single, friends inviting me out, and all of them chiding me for moving away. It was good to be back. For the record, I hadn’t been avoiding Chinatown, I’d simply been busy. But my justifications fell on deaf ears.
I even got it from a few of my friends that had joined the Cranes. Like, come on! How was moving somewhere twenty minutes by subway worse than joining the Triads?
The immediate area around my mother’s school was a no-man’s land for the gangs. I don’t know how she managed it, or if my dad had been involved in brokering that deal. Neither had ever felt like elaborating when I’d asked. But it had been that way since I was kid.
The Triads may have imposed order onto the neighborhood, but their absence allowed for a palpable peace. It was calmer here; the air felt lighter when you stepped onto the block. People seemed a bit happier.
My mother lived in the apartment above her gym. The narrow door that let people into the stairway that led up to the residential part of the building’s lock was still broken. It hadn’t worked since I was a teen, and no one had bothered to fix it. The fact that Lily Li lived there was security enough apparently.
I knocked on her door to be let in. She opened it with an annoyed expression, clearly midway through getting dressed for a night out.
“Why did you knock? Just use your key,” she said in Chinese.
I responded in kind. “Just wanted to be polite, Ma.”
She tsked and let me in, heading back into her room to finish getting ready. “Eat something!” she called through the open door. “You look skinny.”
“Want me to make you tea?” I asked. “I’m putting on a pot.”
“Tea? I said eat something. You’re teaching the beginner and advanced classes tonight. That’s two hours, James.”
“I remember.”
“Don’t take that tone with me.”
“I’ll be fine not eating for,” I checked the time, “two and a half hours, Ma.”
I heard some muttered grumbling from her room. “Okay, make me tea.”
The place looked the same as I’d left it, except for a few newer family pictures from our relatives. There were a lot of my sister at school in California. Evidently it was acceptable to move if it was to go to college.
I took a peek around my old room while the tea was steeping. It had been converted into a crafts room, a sewing machine taking up most of the space on my little childhood desk. Boxes of cloth and various pins and buttons were spread out on my old twin bed. Good, I was happy to see some sign that she was beginning to accept my independence.
“We started using a color ranking system,” she called out as I sat down at the kitchen table.
“Had to happen eventually.”
“Mm.”
Kung fu didn’t traditionally have a ranking system, but most schools in the West had adopted one to satisfy market demands. Parents wanted to know their kids were getting better. How could we know if they were getting better if they weren’t getting tested regularly? What if they went to a new gym, how would they prove they knew their stuff? Ridiculous. It was a very American idea. We’d avoided implementing one for a long time, but it really was just leaving money on the table.
“What color should I grab?”
She laughed. “Ho! Last week I would have said black.”
“And I’ve since been demoted?”
There was a long silence. If this was a week ago, I might have bristled at the perceived insult. But I had more to worry about than my mother’s approval these days.
“No,” she said, standing in the doorway of her room. She looked beautiful, like she hadn’t aged a day past thirty. “You will be wearing this.” She threw me a folded cloth still in its plastic.
I opened it, unfolding the sash. It was silk, all black except the edges had been embroidered in gold thread.
“It’s the same that I wear.” She sat down across from me and poured me a cup of tea from the pot I’d prepared.
I rubbed the cloth between my thumb and index finger. How much had this cost? “I don’t understand.”
“You are the master of your own style, are you not?” She took a sip of her tea. “Hm, acceptable.”
I stared at her in response. I didn’t need to verbalize all the reasons why I was confused right now. We’d fought a lot about my decision to pursue my own style, and then even more when she realized how over the top and absurd it was. She’d called it, ‘All flash, no silver.’
“You’re wondering what changed?” she asked. “I am wondering the same. So, my son, what has caused you to pursue the path of strength?”
Oh, holy shit. She was good.
“I am your mother,” she said, as if reading my mind.
God, what was I supposed to say? ‘My friends and I are stuck in this hell world because I replied to a job I should have known was too good to be true,’ Or maybe, ‘I need to find my friends because I don’t fully trust them to not get themselves killed, and in order to do that I need to satisfy the lust of interdimensional perverts’?
“If one is born as a male, as least once in his life, he'll dream of becoming the strongest man alive.”
She threw her head back and laughed. “That may be true. And is that why you’re fighting, to become the strongest man alive?”
“Yes,” I answered without thinking. “No. I don’t know.” If I was going to end up stuck here, then definitely. How else was I supposed to relax in a world of devils and draculas?
My mother sipped her tea, waiting patiently for me to put my thoughts together.
“You…knew? Just from hearing my voice?” I stared at the ceiling fan above us. Its chain jangled a bit with each rotation.
“A woman can sense when a man is burning with resolve, and a mother knows her son.”
I winced. I hadn’t seriously considered the life that Jameswould be leaving behind if Alan decided to go home. My fingers massaged my temples.
“There are people counting on me, and I need to get stronger. That’s…all I can say for certain.” I looked at her, suddenly ten years younger. “Mom, if I need to…” leave, I finished in my head. “If I, If I…” die. My eyes were stinging.
She got up and put her hand on my shoulder. Smiling down at me, she said, “I’ll always be proud of you, my son. You’ve grown into a fine man.”
I cleared my throat. “Thanks.”
She patted me on the cheek. “Now go get dressed and get the school ready for class. I will be back late tonight, but you’re always welcome to sleep here if you want to wait.”
The first hour of class was split between advanced students and beginners, and the last hour was just for beginners. About half of the beginners I didn’t recognize, it having been almost three years since I’d stepped into the school for a class. They were surprised to see me, but not as much as the old timers were, especially with my new sash.
“James!” proclaimed Harry Wen, one of the handful of elderly students who had babysat me and my sister when were younger. “You’re back!”
I laughed. “Not exactly, Mr. Wen. I’m just sitting in today. Matt is too sick to teach.”
“Ah, I see,” he sounded disappointed. “But you’ll be coming by more often?”
I quirked my head. “Certainly more than I have been.”
“Wait, I’m too sick to teach?” asked a confused Mathew Kingsman as he entered the school. The middle aged, short black man was the school’s most senior student, and a frequent instructor when my mother needed a break. “That’s news to me. All I told your mom was that I had some allergies.”
“Matt,” I breathed a sigh of relief seeing the man. “It’s good to see you. I was worried I’d be teaching by myself.”
“Good seeing you too, kid. Wasn’t the same without you.”
Mr. Wen slapped the man on the arm. “Oi, we have to call him shifu, now. See his sash?”
I raised my hands in protest. “That’s not nece—”
“No, he’s right.” Matt bowed, the others doing the same. “It’s good to have you back, shifu. How should we begin.”
I clasped my hand to my fist and returned their bow. “Line up everyone. Let’s stretch a little while we wait for everyone else to get here.”
After a short introduction and asking Matt for an update on where everyone was at in their studies, I launched into a fairly typical class. Most started with some dynamic warm-ups, while the elderly did isometric exercises like balancing on one foot to strengthen the muscles around their joints. After that we all ran through the first form of our family’s Eagle Style Kung Fu. I kept the lesson to the standard curriculum – these students had paid to learn Eagle Style, not my own brand of fighting.
Though, to put my own spin on it, I did have them do some partner drills with the same wrist lock that I had used on the female mugger this morning. As I’d suspected, people were incensed to hear that you could get robbed of your groceries in Harbor Hill. That and the fact I had a real world example seemed to really spur on the students. My mother taught her kung fu in a very slow, deliberate fashion so I was happy to see the atmosphere was a bit lighter when I led the class.
It was about twenty minutes into the class when something went wrong. I was in the back, grabbing the fold-away mats so we could practice some sweeps, when I heard shouting from the practice hall.
“GRAAAH!”
A deep roar and the unmistakable sound of a body hitting the hard wooden floor of the gym spurred me into a sprint. There was a mass of the advanced students at the door, while the beginners huddled behind them, craning their heads to see what was happening. A few of the advanced students had slipped into fighting stances.
“Hey, hey, hey!” I came out waving my hands. “Everyone, calm down! What’s going on?”
“Tiger gang!” “Tiger gang punks attacked Mathew!” “Some crazy kids are challenging us, shifu!”
I waved off my own students. “Get back in line. Class isn’t over.”
The crowd dispersed quickly, finally letting me see what was at the center. Matt was getting up back to his feet, rubbing his chest while wincing. He looked angrier than I’d ever seen him. Standing in front of him was a very smug man with the standard ‘casual uniform’ of the Tiger Gang, a nice button up, slacks, and some element of gold to distinguish themselves as members of the triad, which in his case was the buckle on the belt he wore. He looked to be about my age or younger, while his companions couldn’t have been a year out of school if they were at all, and was built like a linebacker. If I had to guess, he was an inch shorter than me, but easily twenty pounds heavier, all of which had to have been muscle.
“Huh, who the hell is this? I thought the master of this school was a hot woman, not some skinny pretty boy!” shouted the man. His goons, both girls, laughed along.
“Why do people keep calling me skinny?” I muttered to myself.
I clasped my hand to my fist and gave a short bow. “James Li. If you’re looking for my mother, she won’t be in tonight.” I glanced over to my injured compatriot. “You alright, Matt?”
“I’m fine. Punk just caught me off guard. I can handle this one, shifu.”
“Perhaps later,” I said smiling. “This is the beginner class, Matt. No sparring in the beginner class.”
Our challenger scoffed. “Spar? What are you talking about, idiot? This is a dojo challenge! I’m here to kick your ass!”
I tutted. “No, no, I picked up on that. It’s just that I’m not actually the master of this school, so you naturally won’t be able to challenge us tonight.”
“You think I’m dumb? That guy’s wearing a black belt and calling you shifu, and you got that dumbass black and gold one on your waist. You’re just trying to get out of fighting me!”
He began to settle into a fighting stance but paused as I held up a hand. Once more I could hear those dice a clacking in my head as I attempted to Persuade him. I was very persuasive.
“There’s no need to get upset. I have a suggestion that should suit you fine.” He narrowed his eyes at me, but didn’t continue into the stance. “Everyone is allowed a few free classes to see if they want to sign up. Why don’t you three hop into the class today? That way you’ll learn a bit more about the Style you’re challenging before you fight my mother. There’s a reason no other gangs dare step on her territory, you know?”
That last line seemed to do the trick. “Tch! Fine, show me your Eagle Style so I can rend it apart with my claws.”
“Lovely! May I have your names?”
He smirked. “My name is Tanaka Kuze, or Kuze Tanaka in American, make sure to remember it. This is Ami and Ro.”
That was unexpected. “The Tiger Gang is letting Japanese in these days? Doesn’t sound like them.”
The girl spoke up. “Tiger Gang only cares about strength, fool! They’d be crazy to turn down Aniki!”
“Call him shifu, Ami,” said her ‘older brother’, his words dripping venom. “We’re in his class, you know. Got to respect the master.”
“Sorry, shifu,” said the girl, bowing her head. I’d never seen someone bow sarcastically before.
“No problem, Ami! Alright everyone, let’s get back it! A few more beginner drills before we move onto some conditioning!”
Matt gave me a searching look. I just shrugged. Did I have a plan? Not really, but I could feel the start of something forming here, maybe.
The rest of the class was capital-T Tense. The jovial attitude from earlier was gone, replaced by an intense need to show off their competence and strength. For most of the people in the building that is. Me and Kuze were both very visibly relaxed and unbothered. It was performative, obviously. We were both ready to kill each other at the drop of a hat, but some unwritten ‘Dude Law’ was making it important to each of us that we disguise this fact.
Kuze went harder at the conditioning part of the class than anyone else, as if trying to prove that it didn’t matter if I was trying to tire him out. He simply wouldn’t get tired, what did I think of that?
“Okay, everyone! Get a drink of water and cooldown. We’re going to finish the beginner section of class with the first form five times.”
Ro, the boy that had come with Kuze, asked, “You’re going to teach us your forms?”
“It’s a kung fu class, isn’t it?”
I was true to my word. While Matt led the class in the first form, I took the opportunity to walk around correcting mistakes. Since it was the three of theirs first class, the gang members naturally needed the most instruction. Kuze shot me a deadly glare when I lowered his hand to the correct height, but didn’t otherwise complain.
[Hidden Quest Complete]
Teach your first class.
Reward: 5 XP, +1 Leadership
[Recurring Quest Discovered]
You may formally instruct others to gain up to 1 XP each day.
As the beginner class wrapped up, I turned to Kuze. “Normally beginners aren’t allowed to participate in the second half of the class, and I’m going to have to insist that Ro and Ami sit out, but since you have experience with martial arts and have been so patient, I don’t see anything wrong with letting you stay.”
“How gracious of you, shifu.” He nodded his head at the wall where other beginners were awkwardly moving to sit down by. “Wait with the rest of them.”
I shot an inquiring look at one of the beginners. None of them were filtering out of the building.
“Um, shifu, your mother let’s us watch the advanced class if we want to. Is that okay?”
“Of course! That’s very diligent of all of you.”
The advanced class started with the second form of Li Family Eagle Style. One look at Kuze informed me that he wasn’t going to make it through the full advanced class without snapping. While he’d had no problem following along to the first form, he struggled to keep up with the second and was starting to grow frustrated.
I moved us quickly into practicing some takedown escapes, hoping the brutal physicality of the exercises would let him vent, but if anything it had the opposite effect. I suspected he’d realized why I’d made the change, and was angry that he’d carelessly shown me his frustration earlier.
We hit boiling point when it was time for Matt and Kuze to roll together. I probably should have found a way around having them go up against each other, but I’d been holding out hope that a little bit of grappling would open the way for some masculine bonding.
Kuze failed thrice to escape Matt’s takedown. The older man was gentle about it, which only added insult to injury. The third time Kuze hit the ground he immediately performed one of Tiger Style’s distinctive leg sweeps, knocking an unprepared Matt to the floor. I almost leapt in, but thankfully Kuze stopped himself from going further.
He slammed his fist into the ground. “Fuck this! You said the advanced class had sparring? Well I want to spar you!” He pointed at me.
I smirked. “Sure, we can spar.” I nodded at my students, most of whom were frozen, unsure of what was going on. “Make some room, guys. We have a bonus seminar tonight. Mr. Tanaka is going to show us some Tiger Style. And it looks like I’ll be able to show my old peers what I’ve been up to since I stopped coming to class. Is it alright if I use my Black City Style, Mr. Tanaka?”
“Use a fucking knife for all I care.”
Matt whispered into my ear as he passed, “You sure about this?”
“It was going to happen eventually. Make sure none of the students get hurt.”
I stood in the center of the long practice hall. One wall was covered in mirrors, where Matt had thankfully ushered the students to sit under. It would hopefully keep either of us from being thrown into the glass. Apart from the small section that was covered by the fold-away wrestling mats, the floor was hardwood. Above us was a plaster ceiling, supported by heavy timber beams every thirty feet or so. Along the wall opposite the mirrors were punching bags and wooden dummies, as well as display and practice weapons. Hopefully this stayed civil enough to justify them staying where they were at.
Kuze stood ten feet away from me and settled into the telltale, aggressive stance of Tiger Style Kung Fu. I’d seen the same stance in dozens of Tiger Gang members during the odd street fight I’d witnessed growing up in Chinatown. Interesting, Kuze was definitely a member of the Tiger Gang – I saw nothing of the Karate or Judo the Yakuza preferred. And one look at his fingers in his preferred style told me that he’d undergone the Tiger Style’s unique iron hand training, which took years of vicious conditioning. They were spread out in a way that I never saw in other styles; most styles preferred to keep our fingers close together for added strength.
“Notice, students, that Tiger Style is a ‘hard’ kung fu style, meaning that Mr. Tanaka’s body is coiled tight, his entire body a weapon.” I slipped into my modified Eagle Style stance, which I’d designed to pass for someone just standing normally at first glance. “Whereas my stance is based on our ‘soft’ kung fu. My goal is going to be to only tense at the instant of impact.”
“Are we chatting or fighting?!”
I smiled at him and took a deep breath. “Whenever you’re ready, Kuze.”
He shattered my initiative roll, almost appearing to teleport directly in front of me the moment I’d finished saying his name. I’d known it was coming, the Tiger’s Pounce was famous in Chinatown, but that didn’t mean I could react in time.
Kuze tried to spear me in the chest with his Tiger’s Claw, equally as deadly as my Eagle’s Talon – a bit spicy for what was supposed to be a spar.
Damnit! I could feel that I was a little better than him, but his attack still connected, hitting me for two murderous damage. I didn’t let the moment go to waste though. Kuze had fully extended his elbow and had opened the door to me using the Eagle’s Talon. I snapped my hands out and I could instantly feel the difference in our approaches to combat. I used primarily Agility, with Martial Arts to attack and Acrobatics to dodge. Kuze was using his Strength and Athletics to block and parry. He fired an elbow at my wrist, negating my attack and stepping in close for a follow up.
This time I was ready, circle stepping back and to his side to avoid his punches. Okay, motherfucker, time to show off my Black City Style. I grabbed his arm in a typical move from Chin Na, Chinese standing grappling. He tried to pull me for a counter attack, but instead I used his added help to leap up onto his shoulder and then again into a 360 degree spinning kick.
Kuze stumbled back as I landed, shaking off the blow to his cheek. “What the hell was that?”
“That was my Black City Style. How did you like it?”
He laughed. “You’ve got tricks, huh? Well so do I!” He sucked in a large breath, and opened him mouth into a terrifying roar. “GRAAAAH!”
For a second my body tensed, wanting to freeze like a deer before a predator. I brushed off the attack to my Willpower, but that momentary pause still gave Kuze an advantage as he once more dashed towards me. This time he hit for me three Murderous damage, raking my chest with his claws, tearing open my uniform and skin alike.
Okay, it was time to get serious. Instead of dodging back I leapt into the air, clinging onto the beam above us. In a move that imitated a diving eagle, I kicked off the beam with the full force of my recently feat enhanced legs, Talons out in front of me. Kuze panicked for a split second, not having any training for getting attacked by 175 pound man diving at him like a bird of prey.
Kuze screamed in pain. My Talons hit him on his collarbones and my weight sent him crashing down. I focused on twisting and rending the flesh and bone under my hands, even as I jumped off of him. I dealt a horrifying six Murderous damage, leaving a symmetrical red splash on the floor around him like bloody angel wings.
This was technically a spar so I did consider for a split second not seizing on his prone form. But Kuze was the one who’d escalated to lethal force, and I suspected the proud man would have taken it as an insult if I didn’t. As he was beginning to roll up to his feet, I again leapt up and into the plaster ceiling. I dove down again, this time with my feet forward in a stomp, hoping to avoid killing him if possible.
My feet landed on either side of his spine, knocking him chest first into the floor and driving the wind out of him. He took another three damage. I didn’t know what sort of Endurance Kuze was looking at, but that sort of damage would have had me looking for exits. I jumped off him to a spot ten feet away and settled into a defensive stance.
The Japanese triad pushed himself to his feet, his eyes bloodshot, bleeding from his lips, hair matted in sweat. And yet, I could see the fight in him, burning hot.
I decided to make a Read. In game terms, that meant I was preparing for a specific attack or maneuver. If my opponent did what I expected, I would get a massive bonus to my counter; if he didn’t, then he would in turn get the same bonus to his attack. My hand drifted down to my sash.
“Kai!” Kuze pounced once more, but this time I’d leapt at the same time, rolling over him mid-air, pulling my sash free of where it was tied around my waist and lashing out with it. The silk wrapped around his neck, aided by his momentum and my spin.
I landed and tugged on the improvised lasso, pulling Kuze off his feet and slamming him back to the ground. The only thing that kept his neck from snapping from the force was a mechanic that I had available as a Player Character, which allowed me to not deal the final point of damage that would incapacitate someone.
A flick of my wrist untied the sash from his neck. I tied it around me again while I waited for the absolutely savaged man to stand up.
I bowed as he turned to face me. “Good spar. I learned a lot.”
He was wobbling on his feet and could only take short wheezing breaths, but to my surprise he managed to nod his head in respect.
I gestured with my eyes for his two friends to help him walk. They rushed to his side, staring at me with open fear. I watched silently as they guided him out of the school.
[Hidden Quest Complete!]
Made your first rival.
Reward: 15XP, +1 Martial Arts
Bonus, Turned a potential Nemesis into a Rival: 25XP, +1 to Physical Attribute of choice (Agility)
[Encounter Complete]
Defeated Tanaka Kuze in a duel.
Reward: 12XP
The school burst into applause the moment the door shut on the three would be challengers. Matt ran to me, his eyes on the bloody gashes across my chest. “Shifu James!” “That was amazing, shifu!” “You showed them, shifu!”
“Enough, enough. It was just a friendly spar.” I waved them down, but couldn’t help the smile that came to my lips. Giving Matt a tired smile, I asked “Mind taking over for the rest of the class? I need to bandage up.”
“Holy hell, kid, you haven’t been slacking. And yeah, of course. Me and the rest of the students’ll get this place cleaned up. You go take care of yourself. Gauze is where it’s always been.”
“Thanks, Matt.”
Once I was in the bathroom with the gauze, I let the full force of my exhaustion hit me. Jesus Christ, that had been a lot closer than I’d wanted. Kuze was a monster, his physical Attributes all either the same as mine or higher, and he was already capable of using weaponized Fighting Spirit, which meant his Aura Attribute was at least 3 or higher. If he took the time to really bear down on his martial arts, he could easily eclipse me.
Kuze was just some human thug trying to make a name for himself in the Tigers. What could I expect from fighting actual monsters? I stared at my battered form in the mirror. I’d come closer to death today than ever before in either of my lives.
I had 110 Experience points to show for my insane day. That was enough to buy a Master tier feat, if I met the requirements for any of them, which I didn’t. Aura, which represented how much internal mystic might one possessed, was one of the biggest gatekeeping stats for the Master feats that I’d been eyeing up. I also needed to get one of my physical stats to a 6 for most Martial Arts Master feats.
My Aura was seriously lacking, I only had a 1 in it, not having intended to make a character with any feet in the supernatural at the start of the game. That had sounded like a fun idea at the time. I cursed out my past self for being an idiot.
Aura was also guaranteed to go up as soon as I encountered the supernatural underbelly of Black Harbor from the quest reward. It made sense to bump it up as high as I could before that happened in order to maximize the gains. I had also used a combination of Willpower + Aura to defend against Kuze’s Tiger’s Roar, and had only passed my check out of luck.
With that in mind, I spent 90 XP to bump Aura from 1 to 4, each level costing 10 XP times the number of dice I would have total. I’m not sure what I was expecting when jumping from a mortal’s amount of Qi to a journeyman sorcerer’s, but it didn’t happen. I guess I maybe felt a bit more certain of myself? But that could have easily been psychosomatic.
They’d mostly cleaned up the mess when I came back into the practice hall. I had changed into my casual clothes, my blood soaked uniform in plastic bag. I’d drop it off at a cleaner’s on the way home.
Matt approached me with concern. “I’m not sure you noticed, but a few of the students were recording your fight.”
“Shit, really? I don’t want to bring any trouble from the Tigers to my mom.”
He smirked. “James, the Tigers are going to be lucky if that idiot didn’t just bring a ton of trouble from your mom to them. But I can tell them to delete the videos if you want.”
“They don’t need to delete it. Just tell them not to post it online. It can’t hurt to show the Tigers some face.”
“Got it. I’ll send it through the group chat. You sure you going to be alright?” He nodded his head down at the bag of bloody clothing.
“Yeah, I know someone who can clean silk and she’s patched my uniforms before. They should be good as new.”
“Fully not what I was talking about.”
I clapped him on the shoulder. “Heh. I’ll be alright, Matt. Just need a bite to eat and a good night’s sleep.” And maybe some stitches, if I was being honest. But he didn’t need to hear that.
One of the older women approached me as I started to head towards the door. “Ah, James, my granddaughter is in medical school in Philadelphia. Would you like her phone number?”
“Oh, that’s alright, Mrs. Hsu. I’ll just go to an urgent care if it becomes a problem.”
“No, no. She’s single. You want to see a picture?”
“I, uh, that’s okay. I really should get going. I want to drop these off at the cleaners’ before they close.”
After a few more goodbyes and assurances that I was fine, I was back on the streets of Chinatown. I took a circuitous route to my cleaners, cutting through alleyways and the more residential streets to try and avoid people. Every person who stopped me added a few more minutes to the walk back to the comforts of my home.
The air felt stagnant tonight, and I found myself savoring every slight breeze against my sweat slicked skin. You could almost forget that we were a short walk to the ocean. The late summer heat wave had cooked the city for the past few days, likely heralding a coming thunderstorm.
I exited an alleyway onto an entirely empty street. People who didn’t live in cities probably didn’t realize how often you could find yourself completely alone, even in a city of five million like Black Harbor. It was normal even in my last world, especially on streets like this, where most of the buildings were offices or rowhomes. You could walk a few blocks from a crowded Myrtle Avenue in Brooklyn into the near total silence of a residential street in Bedford-Stuyvesant at night. I had always savored the sensation, the simple joy of walking beneath yellow-orange streetlights by myself.
But I had to say, it was a lot more ominous when it happened here in the City of Shadows. In my past world, if you couldn’t see or hear anyone around you in the city, you were statistically as safe as a modern human could be.
I paused, feeling the hair on my neck start to raise, and looked around me. Nothing behind me. I scanned the rooftops, nothing there as well. The moon was low and thin tonight, not that it mattered with the light pollution. Black Harbor painted its sky in a dull red, the smog blending all the colors together into the ugly shade. Four miserable stars were visible through the haze, and one of them may have been a planet.
I picked up my pace, taking my hands out of my pockets and changing my body language to one that made it clear I was ready for a fight. The mental clitter-clatter of an Aura + Perception roll stopped me in my tracks. I spun around, lashing out blindly with my Eagle’s Talon.
Nothing, there was nothing there. Some vapor rose lazily from a subway vent below. I swallowed nervously. There couldn’t have been a worse time for this. I was a single point of damage away from hitting my Injury Threshold, and all five that I had taken were Murderous.
I turned around and started jogging, my bandages shifting painfully against my open wounds, just a few blocks away from the cleaners and a street I knew would have more people on it.
A few steps I away, I dove down and into a roll. My instincts had screamed at me to dodge, but once again, there was nothing around.
“Gigigigigigi…” came a soft laugh from behind me, along with a hot, vomit-smelling breath along the back of head.
I spun and saw – headlights. Thank God. A cab had turned the corner onto the street I was on. It slowed to a stop next to me, rolling down the driver side window.
“Is that you, James?” said a balding man in large, square glasses. I recognized him as my old calligraphy teacher. Ma used to have him come and tutor my sister and I after school.
“Huo Laoshi?” I asked.
He drummed his fingers on the passenger-side headrest. “Hop in.”
I looked around nervously before taking him up on his offer. Had the air grown less stagnant?
He frowned at my chest when I sat down. I was bleeding through my bandages, my shirt growing damp with blood. “Eh? You okay, James?”
“Yeah.” My brow was furrowed as I scanned the area outside through the windows. “Huo Laoshi, you didn’t see anyone around me when you turned onto the street, did you?”
“No, just you. Are you sure you’re okay? You’re bleeding.”
I patted the back of my neck, but felt nothing out of the ordinary. “It’s nothing. Some Tiger Gang guy thought it would be funny to dojo challenge my mom’s school.”
“What! That asshole! Did you beat him?”
“Badly.”
“Ha! Good!” He started driving slowly, just meandering through Chinatown. “I’m glad to hear you’re teaching again. Your mother talks about you all the time, you know? She told me you were in the chicken outfit in that one ad. That was a funny one, my nephew loves it.”
“Oh yeah, that was fun.” I grinned, but I couldn’t shake the haunting sensation from earlier.
“So, where am I taking you? You live in Harbor Hill now, right? Rent’s cheap there, isn’t it.”
“Yeah, I think I need some rest.”
Huo drove me back at a relaxed pace. After a few more minutes of small talk, we fell into a comfortable silence.
“You know,” he said once we were clear of Chinatown, “the girl at the Shinto temple in Little Tokyo asked me to keep an eye out for men walking alone on the street you were on. The one between the ramen place and the Malaysian grocery store, you know it?”
“I think so. Did she say why?”
“No clue. I have her number though. Or, I teach calligraphy there on Tuesdays, I could take you there with me.”
“I didn’t know you spoke Japanese, Laoshi.”
Huo preened. “I read every language that values calligraphy, Arabic, Farsi, Ge’ez, Korean, Armenian – all of them!”
“That’s amazing. But yeah, ask her if she doesn’t mind you giving me her number. Is she the Miko, there?”
“Yes, and she’s pretty too. And good at calligraphy. And she goes to college for a dual major, accounting and something else.” He gave me a sly smile. “Are you still single, James?”
I suppressed my groan. “Not a lot of room in my life for dating right now, Laoshi.”
“There’s always room for love, my boy.”
