Dance of Two Colors (Genji x Reader)

Chapter Twenty Seven

It took a measly fifteen minutes to get from Hanamura to Kyoto by train. Genji and I caught the last train heading there today.

I hadn't been out of Hanamura in a long time. Being aboard a train gave me time to look out the window and see what the rest of Japan looked like. 

Hanamura was a traditional kind of place that honored the way things were before, but outside, it was nothing like it. There were tons of high rise buildings and futuristic cars that I wasn't really exposed to at home.

It was a bustling gray city that was always in motion. 

I tightened the sweater I was wearing around my torso, thinking about the kid, about what she must've felt being taken out of Hanamura. God, she must've been so scared.

I was suddenly aware of the knives strapped to my body by my belt, how heavy they felt, and I knew I was itching to kick their asses and get her back. 

Genji, who was sitting right next to me, reached over and patted the top of my head, putting me at ease. His eyes met mine, and I blinked rapidly, trying to seem completely normal. He squeezed my hand. "They wouldn't hurt her. That's just... inhumane."

"But the look in their eyes as they beat the omnic... Genji, I just don't know if they actually feel," I remarked darkly.

He intertwined his fingers with mine, and I looked up, letting him see my worried gaze. I could tell he was just as worried, but for my sake, was trying to be the one to provide us with some kind of reassurance.

The train hissed as it came to a stop, a bright sign above the exit doors flashing "Kyoto" in bright red font. The two of us shot up out of our seats almost too hastily, and rushed out the doors as soon as they opened up. 

In a matter of a few seconds, we were engulfed by crowds of people hurrying to both board and get off the train. We were like rocks in a stream of water; everyone seemed to divide and pass us by as we stood in the center.

Genji was squinting at the contract paper that his father had given him, trying to pinpoint the information that would point us in the right direction.

I peeked over his shoulder, and almost as if I was gifted with magic sight, locked on to the address. I jabbed my finger at it. "1879 Irasha Street," we said in unison, before glancing up at each other warily.

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Genji's father hadn't been lying when he said the storage facility they were holding her in was abandoned. For about five minutes prior to finding it, civilization thinned out steadily until there was really nothing but the howling wind to pass on the streets.

It was eerily silent, something straight out of a horror movie. The sun was just beginning to set, so it would be completely dark soon. That wasn't good if we were going to fight. Less visibility.

The buildings we passed along the way were rotting and noticeably older than what we had started off seeing upon leaving the train station. Irasha Street was a ghost town.

I kept looking around us, half expecting to get jumped at any moment by Los Muertos in their vibrant skeleton face paint, but it never happened. Which only drew out the suspense. 

I already had one knife out, resting in my palm. My thumb stroked it idly to keep reminding myself that I had practiced for weeks now and should be able to hold my ground.

I eyed the storage facility from top to bottom, seeing several entrances, but no lights from the inside. Moss grew on the faded bricks and the smell of rust blew in the wind to accompany the atmosphere.