The Uncommon Fugitive

Criminal Activity

With the harrowing experiences of Yakisoba Yashiki behind them, many of the Hashinara generals chose to return to the arena on the outskirts of town. In truth, Knight Commander Maxim had other things on his mind. He wished to go find the Eerie Tree Ryūzaki Sanosuke had uprooted and thrown into the eastern sky, then return it to its rightful owner. It was, Evaine agreed, the knightly thing to do.   However, Maxim's sometimes-companion Fubuki wanted to join him on the expedition, right after she* tied up some business at the arena. So it was that Maxim wound up here with that cold-eyed oni and Aotsuki Tsukamoto. The latter soon left on his own business and Fubuki made her* way to the Mōri box, apparently intent on speaking with their Daimyō. That was when Maxim saw him.

Just north of where they'd entered, Shōta's lanky form was busy chatting up the head of the Shimazu Clan. That wasn't anything out of the ordinary. The scamp had been trying relentlessly to ingratiate himself with people of power even before some other personality had taken residence in his head. No, what Maxim saw was beyond that. On the other side of the stands, behind the curve of the stone stairwell leading below, a white-masked figure peered around the corner at Shōta and his company. The ineffective stalker would have been much less obvious had he not been wearing that ivory Hannya mask and a bright yellow jacket of unknown make.   Now curious, and a little dismayed to see someone hiding so poorly, Maxim began the short journey over to that side. Making as if to walk past the stairwell and its lurker, he stopped for just a moment to whisper a few words of with advice about color and shadow. Much to Maxim's surprise, the lanky oni boy bolted immediately. Leaping over the rail and down the stairs, he vanished into the tunnels below with a terrified haste. Some switch flipped in Maxim's head. The burly knight followed suit without a moment of hesitation, pounding his way down the stairs in pursuit of his sudden quarry.   When he reached the bottom, Maxim found his fugitive already running down a long tunnel leading east. In his wake, by some hidden mechanism, an iron portcullis slid out from grooves in the ceiling and crashed into the ground, effectively blocking Maxim's path. A fiery urgency burned through Maxim's veins. This boy was not going to get away. Placing one heavy, gauntleted hand on each side of the portcullis' bottom, he heaved upward. With a screech of steel on stone, the ironwork vanished back up above. It fell again with nothing to hold it there, but Maxim was already through the gate and thudding through the tunnel with increasing speed.   His quarry was ahead of him now, yellow jacket clearly visible in the shadowy, torchlit tunnel. He was fast, certainly, long limbs carrying him with loping steps that most humans wouldn't be able to match. Maxim's own speed was bolstered by magic, however, and he was closing the distance with terrifying alacrity. As the boy looked over his shoulder and saw the approaching hulk, he seemed to panic. Reaching into his jacket, he pulled forth a medium glass jar and tossed it backward toward Maxim's feet. A thousand terrible guesses at what might be in the jar flashed through the knight's head, but the reality was worse than any of them. It was wasps.   The furious insects swept up out of the jar's remains like an avenging cloud. They were confused, they were angry, and they desperately wanted something to sting. Maxim's eyes darted among the tiny, terrible creatures as his momentum carried him into the swarm. He could perhaps match their movements, look for an opening... No, there was no time. Raising a muscled arm over his face, Maxim plunged into the buzzing cloud and pushed through. The wasps finally found an outlet for their rage. They fell upon him, stinging as many times as they could with vicious precision. It hurt like hell, and Maxim would know, but he was a trained knight hardened by mercenary service. The piercing and the venom didn't slow him, but instead made him angrier with each prick. Bellowing a fierce roar, he burst through the other side of the swarm and swept the remaining wasps away with a fling of his arm.   Nearing the end of the tunnel, the oni boy's body language conveyed the dismay his masked face could not. He nearly kicked off the final wall, turning quickly and almost tumbling down a darkened stairwell with Maxim right on his heels. The two descended a level, surging from the stairway in a frenzied dash that led them into a new section of tunnels beneath the arena. This place was different, decorated in a peculiarly unsettling way. The walls that Maxim now ran past were painted a deep red. At regular intervals and varying heights, stark white Hannya masks glared at him from every side. These snarling vizards seemed to have a life and a will of their own. Maxim could feel their rage bearing down upon him from every side, screeching their indignation at him for entering this sacred place. His feet slowed and almost stumbled as he suddenly felt very small.   Then, Maxim growled. He snarled right back at the masks, rage building inside him and bubbling over as pure, liquid defiance. These were nothing but masks. Glare as they might, they couldn't stop him. That boy had thrown wasps at him. Wasps! Maxim redoubled his efforts to catch the fugitive, closing the short distance and coming right up behind that fluttering neon jacket. As if sensing that his doom was at hand, the oni boy resorted to one last, desperate trick. He flicked his wrist, dropping a small glass vial into his waiting hand. At the same moment as he tossed it down, he jumped, powerful legs pushing him a few precious feet ahead. Whatever was in the vial, some kind of lubricant, gave the stones below as much traction as ice. Maxim's foot came down, slipped, sped, and nearly took him clear to the ground. With his other boot, he managed to push off and make a clumsy leap to the other side of the spreading puddle. He had managed to avoid embarrassing himself in front of the watching Hannya masks, but the oni boy hadn't stopped running. Taking advantage of the momentary distraction, that fugitive had managed to gain back a bit of distance from his pursuer.   Testing his boots for a moment and finding purchase, Maxim set off once again. He quickly regained his momentum and was soon at the desperate boy's heels. They'd entered some kind of larger chamber, flanked on either side by towering, ancient statues. Their faces were all but eroded away, but small nubs of horns were still visible on their weathered visages. He could reach out now, just a foot or so away, and grab-   With a sudden dodge, then juke to the left, Maxim's quarry jumped in the air and kicked the shin of a nearby statue. That fearsome oni strength, only enhanced by the boy's adrenalin and desperation, cracked the stone at the statue's shin and sent the whole thing tumbling down. With an almighty, thunderous impact and a fountain of dust, the statue landed on its side, interposing itself between Maxim and his prey. The furious knight didn't even stop. He pulled back, gathering ki in his gauntleted fist, and pushed it forward, inevitable as the piston of some mighty, rage-fueled engine. Maxim's punch cut clear through the ancient stone, parting the statue like a prophet parts the sea. On the other side, he found his quarry.   The oni boy hadn't had time to get away, or had been gloating on the other side of the blockade. Either way, the impact of Maxim's almighty strike had sent him tumbling to the ground. He turned his head up now, gazing up at the victorious knight, and heaved a sigh. He was caught.   Maxim reached down and hauled the errant boy up to his feet. They glared at each other, face-to-mask, for a long moment. As his fury drained away, Maxim began to wonder just why he'd been chasing the boy in the first place. Certainly, he'd been acting suspiciously, spying on Shōta from the shadows. Then, without Maxim even confronting him, he'd run. That had been reason enough for him to give chase, but now that he'd caught the scamp, Maxim wasn't quite sure what he was going to do with him.   Despite his many questions, the lanky oni remained silent. He answered in a fashion, with shrugs, hand waves, and a very rude gesture. That last made Maxim put the fear of Wrath in him, after which he was fairly certain that the boy was actually mute. Satisfied that things were now more or less in hand, Maxim made his way back to the surface, new captive trudging along behind him. When he reached the fallen portcullis near the entrance, Maxim found Evaine waiting on the other side. He hadn't even noticed during the chase, but of course the petite swordswoman wouldn't have been able to keep up with him. Maxim apologized and explained the situation to her.   Fortunately, Evaine took what could have been a slight in graceful stride instead. As all three returned to the surface, she did express some distaste with her lacking physique. It wouldn't do for a knight's squire to be unable to keep up with him in action, but at the same time, she couldn't move freely without first drawing her warded weapon. That, in itself, was a decision not made lightly. In the meantime, she suggested, perhaps a mount would suffice?