Chapter 32 - The no-good witch

The old lady was barely as tall as the earthenware jar she was carrying across the village, but however slowly, she trudged on with that casual toughness that only women like her, tempered by decades of the labours and pains of farm life, could display. Young men with their bravado might go to battle or hunt the strongest prey, but when it came to dragging loads, and weeding fields, and tending to beasts of all sizes and temperaments, nothing beat a country granny. She might not have been as strong as her foolish brother, who was now hailed by some even as the strongest man in the world - imagine that! - but what strength she had, she put to good use. The water wouldn't pull itself from the river, after all.

Still, she put down the jar at one point, because it was really hot, and her breath was short. Age was no joke on its own, but lately she often felt there was something more to it. Her body wasn't up to snuff, her joints aching a bit too much and her lungs and heart often playing tricks on her. So she waited for a while, and waiting, she started thinking about something she thought about a lot, lately.

She started thinking about death.

She knew death very well, of course. She'd seen it take beasts and babies alike, so many times, especially in the harsh winters, when it was cold and the food ran scarce. And she'd seen it take her own parents, because while her brother was out there gallivanting and learning to punch people really good, or so she heard, she'd stayed behind, and taken care of them during their last moments, when sickness or age had claimed their due. And she'd been around for Piccolo's short and brutal reign, it was decades ago now - and she'd seen almost nothing of it, really, but even that little was enough for her to remember some deaths she wished she had never seen, even among all the others. So, death she knew. That didn't mean she was happy to meet it face to face. Who could possibly be? But, it was a thing, and she'd face it eventually, as stoic and tough as she would face any other of the many little hardships the world threw her way. Complaining about it felt like something her brother would have done. And she most definitely was not like her brother.

"How are you, sister? You seem a bit out of wind!"

Of all things. The old lady turned around, incredulous, to see just him. That deadbeat, lecher, buffoon of a brother. Smiling like an idiot, trying to give himself the air of a wise old master with that long beard, and his ridiculous turtle shell always strapped on his back. She'd sooner have faced the grim reaper himself.

"I'm as fresh as a rose," she cawed in a raspy voice, and immediately picked up the jar again. "What are you here for? Have you run out of money again?"

"An old man can't want to see his beloved sister?," said Muten, with a smile. "And bring a gift, even!"

He raised a hand towards her. Between index and thumb he held the thin neck of a small, elongated crystal bottle, finely faceted in a way that made it refract the sunlight in a thousand shattered rainbows. Inside one could barely seem a few traces of a murky liquid, amidst all the glare. The old lady, Baba, perked up, and raised an eyebrow at the sight.

"Looks valuable," she judged, after a careful assessment. "Where did you steal it?"

"From the top of Phoenix Mount- I mean, I did not steal it! How rude! I retrieved it as my well-deserved prize for a most heroic quest."

His sister laughed. "Heroic, yes. One could buy one of those from any merchant in the city."

"This is not about the bottle, you dumb old thing!," scoffed Muten. "It's about the contents. You would not believe it."

He uncorked the bottle, which immediately released a small cloud of fumes in the surrounding air, and a smell that wasn't exactly pleasant.

"The Elixir of Immortality," he said, triumphantly.

Baba sniffed the air, slightly disgusted. "Smells like the Elixir of Shit to me," she concluded.

"It might have spoiled in the heat," admitted the man, scratching his cheek. "But it's been a lot of work carrying it down the mountain as is. The Crane Hermit and his brother-"

"I don't care about your childish squabbles with that man! I don't hear anything else every time a traveller brings news of you - the great Turtle Master and his sworn enemy. Idiots, the both of you," grumbled Baba. "How did you even study together for so many years without killing each other?"

"Sometimes I wonder too," mused Muten. "But the thing is, I managed to drink some. I can already feel the vigour in my bones! You won't go back to being young - but you will not age any more either, and you will feel well like never before."

"And you offer this portent to me," said Baba, sending her brother an oblique stare. "Why?"

The other scratched his bald head. "You have this funny notion that I hate you, but believe me, I don't. That's all you. But if it makes you feel better thinking that this is just some underhanded scheme on my part, take it as payment for that loan that I still-"

"A few drops of stinky liquid for that loan?"

"Immortality for that loan." corrected her Muten. "I think that's a fair deal."

She considered it. Surprising herself beyond all that she'd believed possible, she considered it, and more than that - she actually started entertaining the idea. Her brother had strange friendships; it was not so impossible he would come upon something that outrageous. Once he'd shown up with a magic stick that stretched and shrunk at his command. Another, with a yellow cloud that followed him and - he claimed - would only let the pure of heart ride it. Of course, no one could do it, and him less than anyone. But the cloud still followed him, obedient like a puppy, which was a portent in its own right.

But that was the fancy, strange world of him and his friends and rivals, always looking for trouble around, fighting and getting into ridiculous adventures. It was not her own, nor did she really want to enter it.

And yet, all considered, she did not enjoy too much the thought of dying either.

She didn't agree or thank him in any way. All she did was snatch the bottle from his brother's fingers, bring it to her lips, and gulp the contents down in a single go, doing her best to ignore their foul, disgusting taste.

Baba looked at the two visitors that had just entered her room. It was, obviously, the only two people she'd seen since entering this base. The black-haired girl she'd met at the Tenkaichi Tournament and with whom she had escaped the grounds - not even realising that she was in cahoots with the same people who had caused all that ruckus to begin with - and her commander, that cunning old lizard of whom she didn't even know the real name. They went by codenames in this place, which she found all kinds of ridiculous and try-hard.

Then again, having lived as long as she had, she found almost everyone to be trying too hard by this point. She had a theory that you get past the point of giving a fuck around age seventy, and she was several times that. No, there was only one thing that really mattered in life for her at this point, and that was the reason why she was here.

"So, what is it this time?," she asked, curtly.

The ptero didn't take any offence to her brusque manners, and remained courteous as ever. "We require your assistance, lady Baba. And in fact, your own safety might depend on it. You see, this base is under attack."

Her eyes widened. "Tell me that sooner, you idiot!," she shrieked. Instantly, with an agility that hardly befit her body seemingly curved and shriveled by age, she jumped down and in front of her crystal ball, raising her hands. "Where are they?"

"There is no danger to us here at the moment, do not worry," reassured her Piano. "But it might not last. See, one of our operations closest to this base has gone less well than we hoped. One of the enemies in particular has proven especially resilient and powerful. He's allowed the Red Ribbon forces to push back and even returned some of our own attacks blow by blow. The outskirts of the base have been bombed. We're trying to figure out his next move, and so-"

"Cut it short," snapped the witch. "What is his name? Can you show me something of his, or a picture?"

"No need. You know him well enough," replied the other. "He was at the Tenkaichi Tournament, and fought your champion in the finals. His name is Goku."

Mai blurted out a curse at that name, but she was quickly brought to order by a curt gesture on Piano's part. Baba frowned, focusing on her memories.

"I think I remember him," she decided. "Scruffy haired, pint-sized kid. I saw him up close before the fights started. Ok, let me work this out."

She looked at the crystal ball, started waving her hands around, and looked deep into the glass. To everyone else, it would still look just like that. To her, it didn't, but that was because it was more of a catalyst for her own abilities than an object of power in and of itself. Images formed, at first vague, like random diffractions in the glass that took on curious shapes, and then more and more definite ones. The result of her soul reaching out of her body, in the vaster tangle of the world, where all minds and spirits were, to some degree, connected. Without an image, she would have been lost, but she knew quite well what thread to follow, what mind to go after. As she gained attuning to it, and fell deeper into her trance, her thoughts became his thoughts, and beyond the crystal ball itself, her eyes started seeing what his eyes did.

-he was gearing up, replacing gloves and other parts of his clothing that had been burned or damaged during the previous fighting. He secured his pole to his back with a new strap, and adjusted his visor. With a click, the screen in front of his eyes was flooded with geographical data of the area, including a map of the nearby Muscle Tower installation, and the vast expanse of fortifications, minefields and weapon nests that surrounded it on all sides.

He turned to a tall, muscular man with silver eyes in a Red Ribbon uniform and with shoulder marks that suggested a high rank - Baba didn't know it, but a quick search in the surface mind of her target revealed it was a Colonel - and extended his hand, expecting something from him.

"I am not supposed to give this to you," said the other, hesitant. He held a backpack under his right arm. He was alert, but did not seem on the edge of hostility.

"You are not giving it to me," replied Goku, flatly. "I am taking it."

There was only a moment of tension before the man sighed, gestured at his men to stand down, and handed the backpack. Goku simply slung it on his back and secured it with an additional strap, making sure it was tightly tied to his body.

"You know, she's not necessarily dead," said the Colonel. "We didn't see the scene play out in full."

"You're right. I don't think she necessarily is," replied Goku. "But it's not just that. It's that... I don't think I trust you guys with this any more."

The other didn't say anything, just pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Not you, Colonel. Sorry," added the boy. "But everyone seems suspicious of everyone else, and they're not all wrong, for what they know. But it doesn't change the fact that it's only wasting time and effort on our part, and in the meantime, the enemy is advancing, and we risk them bringing Piccolo back."

"Yeah. And my men fought and died to stop that too," replied Silver, bitterly. "Don't act like you're the only one who cares."

"I'm not. But you have obligations to your leaders, and your leaders have obligations of their own. And this matters to you too."

"So what? You have no obligations, so you go and defeat everyone on your own?," asked the man. "An entire army? I mean, you're strong, but-"

"I've fought them and got a sense of what they can do," replied Goku, thoughtful. "I wouldn't have to worry about defeating everyone, or protecting you, and the Kintoun is much faster than any of your planes. I think infiltrating the base doesn't sound too hard."

He looked at his hand, closing and opening it a few times.

"Yes, I think I can do it," he said, finally.

The Colonel gaped for a while, as if looking for the precise words to use to answer such a crazy statement. He ended up throwing his hands in the air.

"You do whatever the hell you want," he concluded. "I wish you the best of luck. It's not like we can stop you."

"Thanks."

Goku opened the hatch of the vehicle he was inside, which had come to a stop in the middle of the snow. He looked to the north-east, where Muscle Tower was.

"Just don't let that Ball fall into their hands," shouted Silver from behind him, "or I swear I'll wring your neck myself!"

The boy nodded and started flexing his arms and legs, warming them up in the chilling cold, readying them for action. Then he called, "Kintoun!," and his mind slid in a singular state of perfect, focused purpose-

Baba snapped back to reality, almost kicked out from Goku's viewpoint. This was the first time she experienced something similar - a limit of her power unknown to her. Clairvoyancy always required, to some degree, to skim the surface thoughts of the target, ride those small, parasitic eddie currents of the river of the mind that allowed the seer to infiltrate someone's consciousness undetected. It made its own kind of sense that a completely focused mind would be impermeable to such invasions. Still, it was the first time anyone adopted such a state on purpose. Surely, this couldn't be because Goku had realised he was being spied upon, though. And after all, the thought he had focused himself on was in and of itself a last useful bit of information.

"So?," asked Piano, restrained but expectant. "What did you see?"

"He wants to recover the Dragon Balls," explained Baba, climbing back on top of her ball. "All of them. He's coming here right now. He plans to smash through any and all defences and grab the Ball that you have here."

"What?," Violin, the girl, shouted suddenly, barging into the discussion. "But the Ball is shielded! He shouldn't be able to detect it!"

The old woman shrugged. "He isn't. He just thinks he can ransack this place for long enough, and thoroughly enough, that he'll find it eventually."

"He sounds confident," said Piano. "Can he?"

"I can't say as much," replied Baba. "But I am sure he thinks it's no big deal. If anything, he felt... relieved. Like knowing he could do this alone lifted a weight from his soul. In fact, his biggest worry was just how to avoid making any victims in the process."

"The cheeky bastard!," screamed Violin, furious. "Piano, sir, may I-"

The ptero cut her off with a sharp gesture. He took a hand to his beak, massaging its underside, thoughtful. The woman reined her anger in - barely.

Baba raised an eyebrow at that, but said nothing, keeping to herself, arms crossed, perched on her crystal sphere. She had come to feel a certain distaste for the woman. Violin was a no-nonsense, brutally honest type, and that much the old witch could appreciate, but she was also far too easy to ire and violence. And her master was of a completely opposite, but even more distasteful sort - slimy, calculating and silver-tongued. It was odd how much Violin seemed to venerate him, considering how different they were. By comparison, the mind of the boy she'd just touched had a refreshing straightforwardness to it. Not a quality Baba herself had ever possessed, but she found it pleasant to encounter it, now and then. Still, the ways of the world were seldom so straightforward. Had they been, she wouldn't have been on this side of the barricade, and his enemy.

Not that she didn't have a very good reason for it. Still, in a corner of her heart, she pitied the poor boy. He certainly meant good.

"Very well," said Piano, suddenly snapping out of his thoughts. "I have decided a plan of action. First, let's get out of harm's way. We need to move to the east of Muscle Tower. Violin, come with me. And lady Baba...?"

He extended a claw, with a slimy grin that looked more like a mockery of gallantry than the real thing. Baba scoffed and simply floated steadily next to him.

"This will cost you extra," she said, refusing to grab his hand. "And it better be safe."

"As safe as can be," confirmed the Ptero. "And you will be well rewarded."

The witch nodded. "I sure hope so."

The first time it happened, she thought it a dream, because it happened during her sleep. She woke up and simply found herself elsewhere. In a room that looked on all accounts like the office of some petty bureaucrat or government clerk, except for its gargantuan proportions. Ceiling so tall that it would have fit a whole palace, scrolls as large as a courtyard, and pens as thick as tree logs.

Lots of people - or not quite people - of her own size was spread all around the office, running and carrying documents, or standing still in a queue that seemed to proceed endlessly out of the door. In the entire room, only one figure seemed approportioned to everything else. The red giant that had just stopped, his pen lifted in midair, and was staring at her with a mix of incredulity and annoyance.

"A live mortal?," he asked, turning to one of the figures who obviously served as his underlings, given their deference towards him. "What's she doing here?"

A little salaryman with red skin and small pointed horns on his forehead ran up to Baba, staring at her up and down in slight bafflement.

"I don't know, Lord Enma. Must be a mistake," he concluded.

"Well, FIX IT!," roared the giant demon. "Kick her out!"

The old woman reacted in shrieking indignation. Dream or not, she would not have it. "I would show myself out gladly!," she blurted out. "If I only knew where I am!"

"These are the gates of the kingdom of the dead," said Enma. "And you're not dead yet, for all the good it must do you, old hag. So, scramble."

Baba squeezed her eyes and pinched her nose. She had the strangest sensation that this did not feel like a dream at all - in fact, in a bizarre sense, it felt like the exact opposite. Like she'd never been more awake.

"How?," she asked, finally.

"Great, she's one of those," grumbled the other. He tossed a glance at a cowering soul that had come under his desk, then at the folder in his hand. He made a disgusted grimace. "HELL!," he roared, and pushed a button on his desk. A trapdoor opened, and the screaming soul fell down, swallowed by what looked like endless, perfect darkness. The trapdoor closed immediately after, and only a faint burning smell was left to prove anything had happened at all.

Baba checked the floor at her feet, uneasy, then took a few steps back to a carpet on the side of the office.

Enma was back browsing his documents with a wetted fingertip. "Where was I? Right, getting rid of the mortal. Look, annoying as it is, I need you to figure out how to go back on your own; I can't help you there. You're one of those, what's the word. A medium."

"...a what?," asked the old woman.

"A medium! A mortal who has a connection to the world of the dead. Let's see, did something happen to you in the last days? Did you interact with some supernatural phenomenon? Magic, demons, summonings? Any strange potions?"

"I drank an Elixir of Immortality," she replied. "It was rotten."

"And there you go!," Enma slammed his hand on the desk. "That's exactly what I'm talking about. I don't know what that thing was made of, but it must have put your soul out of tune with your body. Now go in a corner, and figure out how to get back into it."

"...how do I do that?"

"Not my problem. Think of how you did come here, and do the opposite, I guess. Can't help you. ...you, congratulations, HEAVEN! As you can see we're quite busy here."

Baba glared at the demon, annoyed, but eventually gave up trying to say anything. He was already immersed back in his job, condemning and rewarding souls for their sins and merits. She still was not sure any of this was real, of course, which was why it felt so distant. Learning such ultimate truths about life after death should have been a little more shocking, but the reality was, the entire setting was both so outlandish and so mundane, she couldn't think of it as anything but some elaborate joke her mind was playing on her.

She sat down on the floor in an unused corner of the office, right at the rim of the dish of a potted plant as tall as a redwood tree. The problem with thinking back at whatever she'd been doing when she'd come here was, she'd been sleeping back then, and that made it hard to remember what exactly had triggered her out of body experience, if she had to believe that was what this was. She tried getting sleepy again, but honestly, that wasn't very easy. With all the hubbub in the office, sleeping would have been a tall order in general, but also, there was something about her current condition that made it feel like she didn't need to sleep, and like she never would again. Must have come with not having a body, she decided - or with it being all a dream.

"Still there?"

Enma was looking at her with disapproving eyes. She got up from the floor and walked towards him.

"I can't do it," she said. "If I knew what I was thinking about when I first came here..."

She paused a moment. An idea came to her mind. It was just as crazy as the logic of that entire experience.

"Can't you tell me?," she asked.

Enma looked surprised. "Me? Why would I know? Or bother telling you?"

"Because you should have one of those on me too," she replied, pointing at the folder he was holding and reading through. "A file. On my life, on all I did and do. Am I wrong?"

The king of the afterlife grinned. "So I do, so I do!," he said, laughing. "You got me all right. But I'm still not telling you. It would be irregular."

"More irregular than a human like me hanging around your office for who knows how long?"

Enma groaned. "You're a handful, you know that? But as long as you're alive, I can't touch you, so you've got a point. Very well. I can bend the rules a little and tell you - but let's make a deal first."

Baba straightened up. "A deal, Lord Enma?," she asked. "What could I possibly offer to the King of the Dead?"

She wasn't entirely sarcastic, either.

"One hand washes another, so to speak," said the demon. "You are now able to travel back and forth from the realm of the living. That's a useful skill. I want you to bring me stuff. Offerings. Things from the mortal world I wouldn't get here."

"Like... what? Food?," asked Baba, a bit taken aback.

"Yes, food too. We get really sloppy about that here, since no one really needs to eat, but I still like a good treat now and then," he replied. "And other stuff."

"And how long would I have to do this? Honour this deal?"

"Until you come back for your last time, of course," he said, matter of factly. "Then you're no use any more."

"But there will be no last time," replied Baba. "Didn't you hear me before? I drank an elixir of immortality. I won't die."

Enma's laughter was cavernous and scary. It shook the old woman to her bones. "Oh, if I had a coin for every time I heard those words!," he said. "And then they all ended up here. You all end up here. Just because old age and disease can't get you doesn't mean nothing can, human. Everything dies. In time, worlds crumble to dust, stars explode, and the universe itself unravels into nothing. And that's if no one kills you first. But tell you what, suppose you really had broken out of the cycle. Then I'd have no folder on you, because you wouldn't be my problem any more. You'd be a mortal who became a god. And if that happened, you'd earn yourself the attention of-"

And here he said a name - a name that Baba couldn't really understand as if it was made of letters, but that sounded like worlds crumbling to dust, like stars exploding, like the universe itself unravelling into nothing.

"-and you really don't want to have him on your case. By comparison, I'm the nicest guy in the universe," concluded Emma. Then he punctuated that by pushing his red button again, and casually tossing another soul into the fiery abyss below. Baba swallowed.

"And let me be clear, I'm also a professional. This is all off the books. Any good will you earn from me will count for nothing when it's your turn to be judged."

"What will I be judged on, then?," she asked, still glancing at the place in the floor where the trapdoor had opened. It looked perfectly seamless, now.

"Same as everyone else. Mostly, your dealings with other mortals, among mortals. I can't tell you the rules."

Baba squinted, annoyed. This felt like a scam. She would pledge to a lifetime - a much longer than usual lifetime - acting as a gopher for this guy, and for what? An eternity of suffering afterwards anyway, if she failed to obey laws that she did not even know. She'd struck deals with the King's officials in time, it was the way of the world. This felt remarkably similar, except that usually to those favours corresponded a trade-off of leniency when it came to collecting taxes or enforcing edicts. Some may have called that corruption, but she'd call it just fair. This felt much worse.

"What would the 'other stuff' be?," she asked. Might as well know what she was being roped into.

"The kind of things mediums do," he answered, massaging his beard. "There's some dealings between the dead and the living. Sometimes a soul needs a message to be sent, or has unfinished business. Sometimes they can be allowed to go back, and need someone to carry them over."

She perked up at that. "Go back?"

"For one day only, and it's just in special cases," explained Enma. "But yes. I can't exactly leave my desk and carry them down, you know? I need people like you to do the job for me."

Baba's thoughts were sent in a flurry by that. People who'd already died would know much more about how things worked up there. If you wanted to earn the favour of an official, the second best method after bribing them was always to know what those who already had their favour had done.

"Very well," she said, with a deferential curtsy, "I accept your deal, o King of the Dead."

"Hah! A mortal that knows her place! I like that! I'll get your file right away, then." The demon bent under his desk and started rummaging through what sounded like way more folders than ought to fit in that space.

"Now, where is it? I never keep the ones from the living at hand. Oh, here. Let me check."

He opened the folder, browsing quickly a series of blank pages from the end. When he hit the first written ones he quickly moved through while looking as little as possible - muttered something about recursion giving him headaches - and finally he stopped.

"So here it is... falls asleep on a spring morning... oh, you should wake up, you're right under the sun apparently," he said, then turned one page, "and, here, dreams, dreams..."

Baba waited eagerly for the answer. Enma seemed immersed in the read, avidly going through the lines. Then he snapped the notebook shut with a laugh.

"Oh, you're a naughty one! Such dreams even at your age! Now, listen to this, because it'll be fun..."

"Can you see him? Update me on his position?"

"One moment."

They were walking fast - fast enough that Baba couldn't possibly keep up, either with her short legs or her uncertain floating, so she'd been gracelessly slung across Violin's shoulder and was being carried that way. Piano was holding her crystal ball, and he raised it up to her so she could gaze inside and answer his question. The whole setup was horribly undignified, but she'd worry about that after she avoided being caught in the crossfire of the Instruments fighting the most powerful teenager in the world.

She had learned to avoid trying too hard to peer into Goku's mind - as he fought, and jumped up and down from his flying cloud, it was unreliable at best. Instead, the minds of random Instrument soldiers were far easier to infiltrate, and provided a variety of viewpoints that gave her a better sense of the situation. She jumped between a dozen of them in quick succession, scanning various sectors of the base. Some of them were only dominated by the tense feeling of readiness that came before the battle - ranging from determination and bloodlust to plain fear. Others were far more chaotic, as they were already involved in combat. In those cases, determination and bloodlust didn't seem to survive prolonged contact with the enemy. Goku was tearing through the bases' best defences like a hot knife through butter. He knew better than focusing on a single spot and let himself be surrounded, of course - his mobility was his greatest advantage, and he used it masterfully. He would hit and run repeatedly, striking where he wasn't expected, then jumping or flying away. He would look like he was attacking in one direction, then use his elongating baton to smash something completely unrelated. The soldiers couldn't get a read on him, being hopelessly outmatched and outwitted at every turn, and no coordination from above could be fast enough to keep up with the onslaught. It was amazing to Baba how the kid could be so relatively pacifistic - there were plenty of wounded and disabled, but no one so critically that they were dying, though of course she couldn't identify any who were dead already - and at the same time, such a ruthlessly efficient war machine. It was like he was built for this.

"He's still in the western sector," she summed up the situation for Piano's benefit. "A bit closer, but zig zags a lot, so his advance is pretty slow. He's being cautious and methodic."

Piano nodded. "How far from Muscle Tower?"

"I'd say, a couple kilometres or so," she replied, remembering how tall the tower seemed from the viewpoints that allowed her to see it.

"Very well. One minute," said the ptero, and he pulled out a cellphone. "Cymbal? Yes, it's me. My informant says we're under attack by one kid. Yes, one kid, but the one who laid waste to our entire force fighting in the nearby mountain valley, so I'd rather not make light of the situation. No need to panic. Send the mecha armored brigade to fight him - yes, everyone you can muster. Have them form up and then attack together, it's important that they cover each other and sweep a whole area. He's highly mobile. Yes. Yes, I'll trust you on that. I'll be there in a few minutes."

He closed. Baba was giving him a frowning look.

"There in a few minutes?," she asked. "I thought we were going in the opposite direction."

"We are," confirmed Piano, smiling.

"And your armored brigade?"

"A distraction, at best," he said, shrugging. "But since the kid is so keen to keep his enemies alive, one that will slow him down for a while. Enough to give us time to get away and put the next phase of my plan in motion."

He turned to his phone again and started another call. The old witch turned away, trying to shift in a slightly more comfortable position.

"Can you get me...," here Piano paused for a moment and let out a short sigh, "...Shimasen?"

There was a pause.

"You know who I mean," he continued, irritated. "Murasaki, whatever name he likes to go by these days. Just send him to me. Training field MT45, in the eastern sector. Twenty minutes. Ok, perfect. I'll be there to meet him."

They reached a car whose Red Ribbon logo had been slashed out with a single streak of spray paint. Violin unceremoniously tossed Baba on the back seat, Piano dropped her ball next to her, then they both climbed in. The young woman took the wheel, her artificial hand deftly operating the gear stick as if it were her own.

"You heard me," said Piano, "to the MT45 training field. And hurry. We need to be in time."

"Let me get this straight... your sister met King Enma?"

Baba generally liked cats well enough - they kept pests at bay and weren't as sticky or needy as dogs. There was an old cat who used to always spend entire afternoons in her lap while she threshed wheat or wove baskets back in the village. However, the big white cat who stood in front of her, managing a perfectly bipedal stance (though, granted, aided by a walking stick), his eyes so thin they seemed closed, his face looking like it was sporting a perpetual derisive smile, that cat she didn't much like. Maybe because she'd been introduced to it by her brother, whose acquaintances she expected to be just as unreliable as him; or because she had to be carried by Roshi up that ridiculous obelisk for hours before she got here; or because she'd just learned it was, apparently, a god, and her experiences with those up to this point had not been brilliant. But she just didn't trust it.

"Sister...," whispered Roshi, elbowing her in the side. She glared at him.

"Yes, I have met him," she said. "And made a deal with him, apparently."

The cat seemed only amused by this. "Now that's really something to be proud of!," he exclaimed, with a chuckle. "I haven't heard of a living human meeting His Deathly Majesty since, well... I don't think I've ever heard of it, actually."

"So what should she do, Master Korin?," asked Roshi. "I'm worried."

"Oh, honour her side of the deal, of course," replied the cat, grooming his head and ears with a paw. "You really don't want to displease Lord Enma, from what I've heard. I wouldn't worry; he will not ask for anything more than he said, and that's easy enough to do. It's a great fortune, in fact. And if you really are a medium, you should have acquired other abilities too."

"Like what?," Baba asked.

"Well, the boundaries between souls aren't as sharp as one might think," explained Korin. "And being able to tear the barrier between the world of the living and that of the dead should make them even more permeable to you. If I can only give you a little aid... here."

He walked to one of the jars that were propped up against the wall all around the edge of the circular chamber they were talking in. Lifting the wooden lid, the cat dipped inside a glass bottle, then handled it full to Baba.

"Here," he said. "This holy water is what I use to focus my own divination abilities, which gives me an eye on the world below. You should be able to do the same by gazing into it, or in an object that has been forged by bathing in it. You'll learn how to use that skill, in time."

"Thank you," said the old woman, grabbing the bottle carefully. Last time she'd accepted a magic fluid, this whole madness had happened - but at least this one, she wasn't supposed to drink.

"Forget about that for now - isn't this deal risky?," interrupted master Roshi, who had gotten more and more impatient as the discussion drifted away from the main topic. "What if she does something wrong, King Enma gets annoyed at her, and then, when she... you know."

Baba glared at him again, though she couldn't say the question didn't worry her too. The cat, however, seemed much less concerned.

"When he says he's a professional, he means it," he said. "There are a few dangers when interacting with gods, of course. He will send you to Hell for something he deems a grave sin - and offending or disrespecting a god is one such thing. So, you have to mind your manners. But if you do that, it's quite safe. And as I said, it can be a blessing."

Despite her distrust of the cat, Baba got the drift. She bowed deeply. "I will abide by your advice, of course."

Korin laughed harder than before. "It's quite all right, quite all right, get up! I am but a minor god, and not one of the most conceited ones. You don't have to be too formal with me. As a rule, the higher you go, the more you should do that sort of thing, though."

Baba got up again, without needing to be told twice. "But as a god," she asked, "how do I know what would one want? Could I offend him by mistake?"

"Gods can be obscure in their lines of thought, if I say so, that much is true," replied the cat, thoughtful. "But you will find out that they're not necessarily hard to predict once you get them. We all follow some rules; but most of our rules are each our own's. Some gods are forever; others are more like positions, roles, which may be filled in by mortals who ascend to godhood - and in doing thus submit themselves to those rules."

"Like the one you once said lives above this obelisk, master?," asked Roshi.

Baba looked questioningly at her brother.

"All I know of him, I know from master Korin," he simply said. "You should ask him if you want to know more."

"She shouldn't, and he's not someone she should worry about," replied the cat, brusquely. "The important thing to know if you're dealing with a God is, as I said, mind your manners. Know your place. Don't try to second guess them. Gods are generally fair - they won't expect from you something they didn't ask for explicitly. But even though their demands might sound strange, you should not question the reasons behind them, or try doing things in what you believe is a better way, even if with good intentions. Just do as you're told."

"Just that?," asked Baba, hiding well any hint of the sarcasm that put those words in her mouth.

"Just that," confirmed the cat, licking his paw. "Simple enough, isn't it?"

"So what are you going to do?," asked Roshi, when the climb down was finally over, and when he'd finally caught his breath again after the effort - it still caused him quite a bit of wheezing, though he claimed in his youth it had been much better.

"Get this baked into something, I suppose," said Baba, lifting the bottle that Korin had given her. "I didn't want to be dragged into this trouble, but now that I have been, I'd better take every advantage I get."

"Grateful as always, little sister. But that wasn't what I asked. I meant, what will you do, about Enma? I am still worried."

"You should not be. Unlike you, I'm not some lazy moron," she snapped back. "I am a practical person, and I will be practical about this."

"That is exactly what worries me," he replied.

She scoffed and turned her back to the foolish old man. Her plan was simple enough, really. She just needed to do enough good. She'd have enough time and leisure to do that, and by asking the souls she could get down from Heaven, she could also get an idea of what counted more towards that goal.

Of course, doing anything that mattered would also require loads of money, and that was where her new gift would come in.

"For example, knowing you," continued Roshi, "you may already have concocted a plan in which you make loads of money as your first step."

"Because unlike you, I understand how this world works," she replied. "You lazy broken bum don't get to lecture me about that. And don't you think I know how you leer at any girl who breathes?"

"Fine, so I have my flaws too," sighed the other. "And Baba, I know you've always been the breadwinner in the family, but this is a bit more complicated than that. You shouldn't take any big risks. Why can't you just live a normal life? Do normal good things, help normal people now and then. Maybe that's all it takes."

She didn't answer, but crossed her arms in distaste. That was her brother alright - lacking in any ambition, rationalising his laziness at all turns, unless it involved martial arts.

"Maybe it really is like Korin said," continued Roshi. "Maybe it really is just that simple."

"Simple my ass," mumbled Baba, with a half mouth.

Piano raised an eyebrow. "What was that?"

"Nothing," she replied. "Can't she drive the car in a way that's not more likely to kill us than Goku?"

In response, at the next junction Mai steered right so hard, Baba and her crystal ball tumbled down from the back seat. The little old woman, splayed against the window, tried to collect herself with as much of a semblance of dignity as she could muster.

"I'm afraid time is of the essence," said Piano. "We do have seatbelts."

"They're too large," grunted the witch. "And ever tried securing a sphere with a belt? This thing's heavy, you know."

"All the same. Please withstand a bit of discomfort. We'll be there soon. Violin is a phenomenal driver; while it may feel otherwise, with her at the wheel we're in absolutely nooooo-"

His voice was drawn out into a graceless croak as the car literally jumped in the air, then bounced back on the ground, by taking a bump at full speed.

"-danger," he concluded, as if nothing had happened.

"So who's it that we're going to meet?"

"You're unusually talkative, Lady Baba. And I can not help but appreciate the irony of a seer asking me something about the future."

"Just humour me and keep my mind off this ride. Or would you rather have me puke all over your car?"

The ptero smiled. "You should be able to guess even without your crystal ball, Lady Baba. After all, just a few weeks ago, you helped me find him."

Baba's gaze darkened. "That man? He agreed to come see you?"

"Indeed he did."

"He's never agreed to come see anyone."

Piano laughed. "I may have had to strike a special deal with him."

"He's bad news," she grumbled. "I told you so then and I'll tell you again. I don't like the idea of being any close to him. His brother is a buffoon - like mine - but him, he's just scary."

"Lady Baba, I find that objection to be quite amusing," said Piano, smiling. "He is bad news. I am bad news. My dear subordinate, here at the wheel, is certainly bad news. Why, now that you've been associating with ourselves for so long, and with your abilities, surely you must be aware you've become bad news too?"

"Don't lump me in with you," she spat. "I'm here because I'm being paid."

"So is he," replied the ptero. "But I wonder. You're right, you don't seem the kind of woman who ends up helping people like us. So one has to ask themselves, what drove you so far? I do not believe it could be just money. And no matter how much you seem to despise your brother, I don't think you would do such a thing only to spite him. No, there must be more. Great acts are driven by great vision."

"I asked you to help me take my mind off this awful trip, not to psychoanalyse me," replied scathingly Baba. "You can have me peek into other people's minds, but I'm not putting a price on my own."

Piano smiled. "Somewhat hypocritical, perhaps, but aren't we all, just a bit? Fair's fair. Your secrets are your own, Lady Baba. I guess I was wondering - my master has granted me one such vision. Maybe he could have shared that gift with someone else, too. It makes me proud, to bear the weight of that vision alone, but it is also somewhat lonely."

Baba scoffed. "I don't know your master. What does he even look like?"

"I can tell you how he feels like. Ancient. Powerful. Absolute," replied the other, in a soft voice. "But he has not granted me the gift to see his face."

The witch paused. She flinched for a moment, and in that moment, through the car's mirror, her eyes met the ptero's. She averted them quickly.

"Sounds like he doesn't like you that much, then," she snapped. "And now, if you'll excuse me, since the conversation has turned out worse than the driving, I'll make use of my abilities to enter a prophetic trance and spare myself the torture. Wake me up when we're there."

The ptero laughed out loud. "Well, that's surely a good way to make use of your gifts. I'll be sure to call you back to the world of the living when it's time."

The scenario was one she knew very well by now, having seen it a hundred times for a hundred nights, always the same. The garden of raging flames, the King of Hell laughing cruelly at her damnation, the road out, the woman, whose name now she knew well, with dark hair, missing an arm, and a floaty robe flapping up and down in the warm air currents.

Come with me, said the woman, salvation-

"Oh, do shut up," groaned Baba. "You wouldn't talk that way if you were the real Violin. Nor wear that ridiculous thing."

The woman looked puzzled, confused. Then, in a single beat, she was remade. She was now wearing her modified Red Ribbon uniform with the Instrument symbols patched on top of the old logo. She had weapons strapped at her belt and a cyborg arm. Her stare lost all its inspired, mystical appearance, and resembled more her usual, perpetually angry frown.

Come this way, you old hag, said the woman, if you don't want to be burn-

"This isn't going anywhere. I don't want to talk to you." Baba was at the end of her patience. She squinted as she focused her mind, trying to retrieve a well known feeling. One she'd long grown beyond being embarrassed by - it had just become automatic for her.

For an instant, amidst the flames, she was her younger self again, and she was naked. In front of her was a certain boy she remembered from a certain barn she'd spent quite a fun day in, so long ago it seemed centuries - and in fact, it was.

"Well, look who's here again. Bring anything good this time?"

Baba sighed and turned around. Violin's dream version might have been inaccurate, but King Enma was bang on. She could absolutely picture him laughing at her demise as she fell into the flames of Hell.

Which was why she'd spent her last centuries trying to find ways to make sure that did not happen.

"Sorry for bringing no offers, Lord Enma," she said, with a small bow. "I don't come to trade, today, just to talk."

"Talk? I'm busy, here, if you don't know it. Can't really have a chat."

The office was indeed abuzz as usual, with other demon bureaucrats and a constant stream of souls. With all the sentient life in the universe coming here after death, it was no surprise. Yet time also flowed very differently in this place, Baba had learned, so that was all very relative. From her best guess, time simply flowed at such a rate that it would allow every soul exactly the time it needed to be judged while keeping the flow of those which came from the mortal world steady. So talking about "being busy" didn't really make much sense for Enma; he would always have exactly as much time he needed to do his job, and not one second more.

"I think this might interest you, though," she said. "I believe I have been given a task by one of the gods of Earth."

That did indeed earn Enma's attention. He put down his paperwork. "A task." he said, slowly. "And how does that concern me instead?"

"Well, the task is somewhat... vague," she replied. "I did my best to interpret what I was told. I thought it would be a good thing for my record. That it would please you."

"Your record isn't about pleasing me, old hag," he grumbled. "It's about your dealings with other mortals, among mortals, remember? Those were my exact words."

"I understand, Lord Enma. But I thought it better not to disrespect the will of a god, that they would know best, even when their suggestions seemed counter-intuitive. I was told once not to second guess gods."

"That's not bad advice, but try not to stretch it - or my patience. Your point?"

"Well, I am having doubts about my course of action," admitted Baba, with a sigh. "I was wondering if you could take a look at my record, and let me know if-"

"I did that one time, woman!," roared Enma. "And that was one time too many! Do you really think you can just waltz in here and ask me to break the rules every damn time you have a question to answer? I thought you were the damn seer here!"

Baba prostrated herself, showing as much respect and contrition as possible. "I deeply apologise, Lord Enma, you are right. But I find myself unwilling to disrespect the wishes of a god, while also wondering if I am doing wrong in my dealings with mortals; and so, you see my dilemma-"

"The wishes of some local god of the boonies compared to my rules, pah!," spat the demon, displeased. "I'll check just to see what exactly is the big deal, but don't expect me to tell you anything."

He grabbed a folder from under the desk and started reading. His gaze changed from indifferent, to surprised, to something much scarier.

He was amused.

"Wait, this is what you meant by-?"

He flipped through the pages. Seemed to read some of the lines multiple times, even following along with his finger. He massaged his beard, and all the time, a grin spread ever broader on his face.

"Well, I'll be damned-"

He started roaring with laughter. He kept reading one page after the other like it was a gag manga, laughing his ass off at every page and slapping his own thigh.

"Oh, so you were told - and you believed - oh, this is amazing!"

Baba gulped. She'd suspected something was off, but this reaction was way beyond what she imagined.

"That was hilarious!," said Enma, finally slapping the folder close. "Didn't have such a good laugh in a few hundred years. And you guessed, didn't you? You're pretty cunning, for a mortal. You just wanted to see how I would react, gives enough away."

"I did not mean-" started Baba, but was interrupted. "No matter," replied the demon, wiping away a tear with his thumb. "It doesn't change a damn thing if you know, really. Oh, the things you've been roped into - this is too funny. I don't even know if you've got enough time left in you to compensate, elixir and all."

The old witch tried not to flinch. "I understand, your Majesty. I apologise for wasting your time."

"Oh, no problem at all! It's your time you should worry about... and in company of those two, now! Oh, this is the best..."

"Welcome back among us, lady Baba."

The old witch came to her senses into a car that had now stopped. They were at the edge of a vast courtyard fenced with barbed wire, the surface of it slightly uneven dirt mixed with snow for half of it, and a blasted mess of craters and shrapnel for the other. The area was eerily silent for a military base under attack - but after all, it was a large compound, and Goku was rampaging kilometres away from there. If anything, the attack must have diverted the attention of the soldiers who had not already left as part of one of the many Instrument forces that were fighting throughout the world.

Baba barely managed to wake up that she was tugged out of the vehicle by her arm, which Violin had safely tucked under her own.

"Keep your hands to yourself, I can walk!," she shouted, but all she got from the woman who was manhandling her was a cold stare. Piano didn't seem too concerned about rebuffing his subordinate either.

"Now, Violin, be more polite with your guest," he said simply, smiling, and it was clear he didn't mean it.

The young woman dragged Baba forward, still arm in arm, like an excessively considerate niece. The witch really had a bad feeling about the situation. After her conversation with Enma she knew she had to find a way to get away from these two, though she still wasn't sure what had happened to begin with, but it seemed like while she was out, something had changed for them as well.

"Are you comfortable, lady Baba?," asked Piano, courteously. "I apologise for my subordinate's roughness, but the terrain is quite uneven, and I wouldn't want you to risk a fall."

"I wouldn't risk it if I could use my ball to float," she replied. "Where is it?"

Violin raised a spherical bundle that she kept tugged under her other arm. "You mean this?"

"Sure I do! Give it to me!"

"Lady Baba, you shouldn't risk using something so precious in such a trivial manner," said the ptero. "What if it broke? Please, let Violin take care of you."

He exchanged a glance with the other woman, and Baba decided, that was it. If she pushed the issue once more, he might just decide she was not to be trusted, and then things might get more straight up ugly for her. And that would destroy every chance of escape.

"Very well," she said, and put one foot before the other on the rough terrain, letting Violin lead and if necessary support her. Which the soldier kept doing, with an absolutely stony face, like a damn robot.

Someone else was in the field, the witch saw now. A man dressed in a somewhat gaudy way - a purple gi, netting on his arms, and hair tied in double knots. It looked not much like a historical ninja, one of those agents that in the past were said to act as spies among the warlords of the eastern regions, but rather like some kind of cheap costume party ripoff. The man ran towards Piano, put himself on attention and saluted.

"Ninja Murasaki at your service, sir!," he shouted, then drew his sword and started waving it around in pointless flourishes.

Piano sighed. "Of course. Thank you for coming, you'll be of great use to me today."

The ninja puffed up his chest. "My arts are ready to strike at the heart of the enemy! What do you need me to do? Infiltrate them and steal intelligence? Or a plain good old assassination?"

"Something like that," replied the ptero. "See, I already hired a famous assassin, but he wouldn't come and meet me unless I could point him to a target."

"Sir!," Murasaki sounded outraged. "Why go look for another assassin when you already have me?"

"Oh, don't worry, there will be a role for you too," reassured him Piano. "See, this is a complex mission, and as I said, the other assassin would not come just to see me, he needed a designated victim, so..."

He took the measure of the field, checked his watch.

"...if you wouldn't mind stepping a bit back," he said, gesturing with his claw. "Right, there, two or three meters away from me."

"Here?," asked the ninja, puzzled, after moving as requested. "Sir, I don't understand, what does this have to do with-"

"I'm getting there," replied the ptero. "Just stand there for a few more seconds... three... two... one..."

The pillar plunged out of the sky unannounced if not by a faint hissing sound. It crashed, almost vertically, into the precise spot where Murasaki had stood until a moment before, making a bloody pulp of him. Baba couldn't avoid letting out a croak of horror and disgust as the gore sprayed the ground at her feet. Piano observed the scene with satisfaction, arms crossed behind his back.

From the pillar jumped down a man with a moustache and a ponytail. He didn't look any older than fifty, but Baba knew better - this was one of the only other three people in the world who were still alive from her time, albeit the youngest of the four. The brother of her brother's arch-rival, one of the most feared assassins in the world, and one of the strongest martial artists she'd ever heard of. A blade honed by centuries of experience. The infamous Tao Pai Pai.

"I hope your next target is going to be a better challenge," said the assassin, looking at Piano. "Because this one wasn't much."