I slipped the strap over my shoulder and let the guitar settle against me, the weight familiar, grounding.

The black dragon stitched in the leather curled across my chest, gleaming faintly as I tightened the tuning pegs, reminding me of an old friend.

Then I caught Inego's wide-eyed stare as he sat across from me.

"Oi, mate! You can't be serious!"

He nearly dropped his own guitar.

"You're actually going to use that thing? Murasaki's gift? Mate, that's not just reckless, that's… bloody insane."

I rolled my eyes and plucked a string, twisting it until the note rang clean, and I didn't quite understand what the problem was.

I get that he was concerned it smelled like her, but the gift had come from her, so what did he expect?

"I've been using it since she gave it to me."

He froze.

Then his jaw slackened like I'd just told him I'd survived a car crash by shrugging.

"You've been, what? You mean, all this time, and you're not crawling the walls thinking about her? You should be practically obsessed with Murasaki by now."

I shook my head.

"Really? That's crazy because, I assure you. I'm not."

Inego barked a laugh, part disbelief, part admiration.

"I can tell, chap. You're dating Shion. That means something's shielding you, mate. Something's protecting you from her mark. Because succubi don't hand out free samples. They own what they touch."

I didn't know what to say to that, so I tuned another string and let the silence hold the weight.

The dragon strap dug into my shoulder like it was reminding me whose hands had touched it first.

I had to remind myself that it wasn't Murasaki's arm, wrapping itself around me, like she was pulling me in.

Until he strummed a few chords on his guitar.

G major chord. C major chord. Then back to G major again.

"Okay, so, I'm going to take a guess, and say it's either Yuki or the Asuka clan. Since the clan didn't mention it to you, it's probably the former."

I scratched my chin, thinking about it.

"How's Yuki protecting me from Murasaki? Wouldn't the succubus know?"

He pushed his glasses back up on his nose.

"Ryu, mate, I'm as old as you, and I'm guessing my way though this every bit as much as you. To tell you the truth, I fancied dating Shion until I saw the two of you together."

He smiled at me, as though to show he were just being honest.

"Even though she damn near killed you?" I asked.

He nodded.

"Oi, that's the bloody crux of it, isn't it? She did. I'll never forget trying to push her the hell off me as my strength was ebbing away. But…"

He shook his head, trying to clear the image.

"I don't have to tell you she's cute, eh? Not to mention her confidence is just…"

He laughed a little.

"She's sexy, right mate?"

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Then I laughed.

"Yeah, Inego, bud. She's pretty sexy."

He looked from side to side, like he was about to initiate me in on a conspiracy.

"Hey… your flat. It smells a little like old incense."

I nodded.

"Yeah, between that, stale tobacco, dirt and sweat, it's a whole aesthetic."

He snorted another laugh out his nose.

Then, calmly, he reached into the guitar case he pulled out of his pocket and showed me a plastic bag.

Inside, I could see what appeared to be ground up marijuana and a glass bowl.

"Oh dude, I knew there was a reason you and I got along so well," I said.

He chuckled.

"Natsumi's not the only one around here who knows where to find things," he said, doing a terrible impersonation of her voice.

"Inego, where'd you learn to do impressions? You're the worst!" I said, throwing a pillow from my futon at him.

He kicked it away before it could reach him.

"Oi! Careful, ya gobshite! I'm holding a bloody glass instrument."

He packed the glass bowl with a goofy smirk on his face.

"Oh yeah, I forgot you're working with plutonium over there," I said.

He took out a small lighter, lit the bowl, and took a drag. A moment later, he opened the window and blew it out.

"Would you want me to drop some of this onto Shin'yume-sou's famously clean floor?" he asked.

I looked down at the rows of dust on the ancient wooden floor.

Hell, I could plainly make out mine and Inego's footprints.

Not to mention Natsumi's.

And probably Hibana's.

"Okay, that's a good point," I said as he handed me the bowl.

I took a hit, handed it back to him, and he took another.

We sat there in the smoke, both of us staring at nothing for a beat too long.

Then he blinked, frowned, and looked at me like I was speaking Greek.

"What point?" he asked.

I laughed so hard I almost dropped the bowl.

"You forgot already?"

He nodded, grinning dopily.

"Oi… what were we even on about?"

That was when we put his bowl down and we played guitar together.

The sound filled the room, clashing at first, then bending into something almost like harmony.

I tried to keep up, but I had to admit it, grudgingly.

He was better.

His fingers moved like they'd memorized the fretboard a decade ago, a smoothness that made the strings sing like they wanted to be under his command.

While I was no amateur, far from it, I had trouble keeping up.

Mine stumbled and scraped in comparison, sometimes biting sharp when I meant soft.

I hated to admit it, but next to him, I sounded like some kid learning to play in a garage.

"You're ridiculous," I said finally, after missing a chord change he'd breezed through without looking. "You make me feel like a rookie."

He smirked and set his guitar aside, the smugness entirely earned.

"Thanks, but, I can't take credit for it all. I started when I was eight. My dad insisted because he loved to play. Then he hired me a proper tutor by twelve. Professional, strict as hell. If I wasn't good by now, I'd have been a waste of his money."

I snorted, plucking a lazy line that fizzled out halfway.

"Damn, that sounds rough. So… did you actually want to learn?"

He nodded almost immediately.

"I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to learn. Don't get me wrong; my old man's a bastard, but I do appreciate that I learned how to play. It's one of the only things he ever gave me that wasn't just pressure."

The strings still hummed in the air between us, a vibration that seemed to linger in the dust. My window rattled faintly, stirred by the evening wind, and for a second it felt like the whole onsen was listening in.

Then he shook his head, as though changing gears.

"Before I forget, Namazu wants you to come over sometime. You know, train, spar, whatever the hell you two call it. Says he can help toughen you up."

I remembered who he meant.

The thought of wrestling with a kappa wasn't exactly comforting.

"Namazu?" I repeated, trying not to imagine getting suplexed into a pond by a turtle-faced lunatic.

Inego scribbled on a scrap of paper he found beside my desk.

His handwriting looked neat, controlled, like he'd been taught by someone who actually cared about penmanship.

He folded it and handed it over with a little flourish.

"Here, mate. It's his number. Be sharp and don't lose it. He'll be cross if you do."

I tucked it into my pocket, then reached into my bag for the envelope Skuzz had given me.

The paper felt heavier than it had any right to, like the words inside were written in lead.

"I've been thinking," I said, weighing it in my palm. "I want to try sending this through the bus tunnel, like, if we could put it on something and send it though. If it's really filled out and works the way he says, maybe it'll get where it needs to go without us."

Inego's expression sharpened.

His easy grin vanished, replaced by that calculating look he got when the world turned dangerous again.

His eyes flicked from the envelope to me, glasses catching the light.

"Well," he said slowly, "that's one way to test the bloody thing without feeding yourself straight into a trap. Plus, you don't need to walk through the mouth of the tunnel, so I think that's a good idea."

The guitar on my lap hummed against me, the dragon strap biting faintly into my shoulder, and for once, I wasn't sure if that was reassurance or warning.

He stood up, took his guitar and put it back it its case.

"You ready?" he asked, picking the case up.

I shook my head.

"You mean, like, right now?" I asked.

He nodded, then reached out to take my hand.

"No time like the present."

I let him help me to my feet, feeling the lingering effects of his weed.

"Mate, just tell me you've actually got a plan beyond just wishing really hard that the invitation will get through the tunnel."

I tried to look reassuring, and it must have worked because we kept walking.

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