Chapter 10: Catwalk Teeth

The catwalk wasn't built for a fight.

It was built to move cargo and maintenance crews across a vertical drop without giving them room to get stupid. A narrow strip of grating, rails on both sides, pipe steam rising from below in slow breaths that made the air taste like metal and old coolant. Every step rang faintly under the pump roar, just enough sound to remind you that you were real and visible.

They were not supposed to be fighting on this line yet. But the enemy had moved first, and the city had agreed.

Semireiya measured the geometry in a glance.

No cover. No worker wave. No wide angles — just a line.

The transport platform rolled onto the catwalk without slowing. The cargo rail above hummed steady, tuned and maintained like someone cared about it more than the people walking underneath.

Nullists flanked the platform on foot, boots planted with deliberate confidence. Restraint tools hung at their hips. Not rifles. Not blades. Tools meant to end motion. Tools meant to make surrender feel like the natural choice.

Rikka sat bound at the front of the platform, hood low, wrists locked, ankles secured. The collar ring around her throat pulsed faintly. A seam on the left side caught the light when the platform passed a dim utility lamp.

Semireiya locked onto that seam like it was a target marker.

Usagi pressed close at Semireiya's shoulder, mesh cloak tight, antennae tilted forward. Her face was pale, but her eyes were steady. She'd stopped asking for comfort. She was counting tones in her head, listening for the machine's hesitation the way she listened for people lying.

Short. Short. Short.

Then the longer gap.

Semireiya didn't speak. She didn't want her voice traveling down the catwalk and announcing their intentions. She moved when the gap came, stepping onto the catwalk with controlled speed, matching the platform's pace but staying just outside the escorts' peripheral attention.

Usagi followed perfectly, one step behind, light and precise.

They were close enough now that Semireiya could hear the small movements: the creak of the platform's restraint straps, the faint scrape of a boot heel against grating, Rikka's controlled breathing under her hood.

A speaker box mounted to the catwalk railing clicked on.

[!]Proceed. Do not resist. Mercy will be applied.

The calm tone made Semireiya want to break the box off the railing and throw it into the drop.

She didn't.

That kind of impulse got you killed.

Semireiya's eyes tracked the escorts and found the irregularity Usagi had mentioned earlier. Three boots in matching cadence, and one set that didn't match. Lighter steps. Less weight. Slightly delayed.

A handler.

He didn't walk like a soldier. He walked like someone used to being obeyed.

Semireiya's hand brushed the pocket where Kei's little jammer rested. She could pulse it again. Short. Just enough to blur optics and create a second of confusion.

But the catwalk was clean. Clean lanes. Clean sightlines.

If she pulsed too early, the escorts would lock down, and the platform would keep moving into the next shutter line where they would be sealed out.

Semireiya forced patience into her muscles.

Rikka's head tilted a fraction, as if she sensed them behind. She didn't turn. She stayed still.

Good.

Rikka understood the same rule Semireiya did.

Wait for the window. Then take everything.

Usagi's hand brushed Semireiya's sleeve, a tiny touch, a question without words.

Semireiya answered with a single tap against Usagi's wrist.

Not yet.

They moved two more steps closer.

Now Semireiya could see the collar ring's texture: matte black, no reflective shine, designed to be hard to read in low light. The seam on the left side was real. The indicator pulse was steady.

A port. A lock. A link.

If she could get her fingers on that seam, she could break the pipeline in one clean motion.

The handler's voice rose quietly ahead, speaking into a mic.

"Maintain spacing," he said. "No crowding. No deviation."

His tone wasn't loud, but it carried authority that the escorts followed instantly. They adjusted formation by inches, widening their spacing, creating a clearer lane around the platform.

They were preparing for interference.

Semireiya felt the city's teeth closing around the moment.

The shutter tones rang again behind them, faint but present through the corridor.

Short. Short. Short.

Usagi's antennae twitched.

She leaned in close, lips barely moving.

「次…長い…」Next… long gap…

Semireiya nodded once.

The long gap was their window.

Semireiya's gaze swept the catwalk ahead and found the worst part.

A slight bend where the rail line passed over a deeper drop. The grating there looked newer, but the handrail had a section that had been repaired with mismatched bolts. It would flex if someone slammed into it.

If the escorts forced them toward that bend, one wrong step could become a fall.

Semireiya didn't like variables. But she accepted them. The city didn't care what you liked.

The speaker box clicked again.

[!]Do not resist.

This time the voice was not calm.

It slid into a familiar cadence, soft and dangerously human.

[!]Semireiya. It's okay. Stop. You'll hurt someone.

Semireiya's blood went cold.

It had her name.

It wasn't shouting. It wasn't threatening.

It was trying to make her hesitate for one second.

Usagi's breath caught.

Semireiya didn't look at Usagi. She didn't need to. She could feel the fear spike through Usagi's posture, the reflex that wanted to trust a voice that sounded like care.

"Lie," Semireiya said, voice low — not to the speaker, but to Usagi.

Usagi swallowed hard and nodded, eyes wet but focused. She didn't smile. She didn't flinch again.

The handler turned his head slightly, as if listening for the effect of the voice. His shoulders loosened when he didn't get it.

So he tried another.

The speaker box clicked, and a different voice arrived. Lower, tired, familiar in a way that hit the chest.

[!]Semi. Don't do this.

Semireiya's fingers tightened at her side.

Reiya's cadence.

Not perfect, but close enough to cause damage.

Semireiya forced her breathing to remain steady. She didn't allow her eyes to soften. She didn't allow her mind to drift into the past.

She didn't respond.

Usagi's hand reached for Semireiya's wrist, seeking anchor, and Semireiya gripped it once, firm and reassuring.

Not now.

Not here.

The long gap arrived.

Semireiya moved.

She stepped forward with controlled speed and closed the remaining distance by three steps in one motion, placing herself closer to the platform's flank, just behind the escort line. Usagi followed, matching her pace, keeping the mesh cloak low and tight.

The escort nearest them noticed.

Not with surprise. With practiced response.

He pivoted and raised a compact restraint launcher, the kind designed to fire a band that wrapped around limbs and locked muscle movement. His posture wasn't frantic. It was efficient.

Semireiya didn't wait for the shot.

She lunged.

Not forward into him. Sideways, into his center line, knocking his aim off without giving him room to reset. Her shoulder slammed into his chest. The impact rang through the grating.

The restraint band fired anyway.

It snapped past Semireiya and caught the rail instead, tightening around metal with a harsh whine.

The escort swore under his mask and yanked the launcher back.

Semireiya didn't let him recover. She drove her elbow into his forearm, knocking the launcher downward, then kicked his shin hard enough to make his balance slip.

Not a flashy move.

A practical one.

Usagi moved too.

Not into the fight.

Into the timing.

She raised her hand, palm toward the speaker box, and her voice came out shaking but clear.

「うるさい。」Shut up.

The word didn't stop the speaker, but it stopped something inside Usagi. Semireiya felt it. Usagi wasn't just enduring. She was refusing.

The handler barked, "Hold the line!"

Two escorts shifted toward Semireiya, restraint tools up. Their goal wasn't to kill her. It was to pin her long enough for the platform to move beyond reach.

Semireiya could see it.

This wasn't a duel.

This was a clock.

She needed seconds at the collar seam.

Rikka's head turned slightly under the hood.

Not enough to expose her face, but enough to show awareness. Enough to show she was ready.

Semireiya's mind snapped into a clean plan.

Touch the seam. Break the collar. Get Rikka off. Run.

She didn't have time for anything else.

Semireiya reached into her pocket and palmed Kei's jammer. Her thumb pressed the activation tape once.

A short pulse. The jammer gave what it had left. Not much. Enough.

The corridor's utility lights didn't go out. They flickered. Just enough to make optics and screens stutter. Just enough to make the handler's tablet lag.

The escorts hesitated for a fraction.

Not because they were scared.

Because their tools demanded confirmation and the confirmation stalled.

That fraction was worth more than courage.

Semireiya moved through it.

She stepped onto the platform's edge, boots landing on the cargo deck with a dull thud, and reached for Rikka's collar seam.

An escort grabbed for her shoulder.

Semireiya twisted and snapped her forearm up, knocking the grip away, then leaned in again.

Her fingertips found the seam.

Hard. Cold. Real.

"Rikka," Semireiya said quietly. "When it breaks, move with me."

Rikka didn't answer with words.

Her bound hands flexed once.

Yes.

Semireiya hooked her nail into the seam and pulled.

The collar didn't open.

Of course it didn't.

It wasn't meant to open.

Semireiya's jaw clenched. She needed a tool.

Usagi's hand shot forward from behind her, small and fast, holding the thin metal pick Usagi had taken from the handrail receipt.

Usagi's eyes were wide, but her grip was steady.

Semireiya took the pick without looking away from the seam.

"Good," Semireiya breathed.

She slid the pick into the seam.

A sharp click.

The collar resisted.

Semireiya pushed.

Not with brute force.

With the wrong kind of pressure.

The kind that made her wristband pulse warm against her skin, responding to stress, offering power like a knife offering blood.

Semireiya felt the edge of the system inside her rise, the familiar temptation: push harder, become faster, become stronger, end it now.

She had promised herself she wouldn't.

But the escorts were already moving again. The jammer pulse was ending. The handler's tablet was recovering.

She didn't have another clean window.

Semireiya pushed.

The world tightened around her senses. Sound sharpened, then blurred. The pump roar turned into a thick wall that pressed against her skull. For half a second, her vision tunneled and colors shifted strangely, like the corridor lights were sliding out of their proper range.

Her grip did not slip.

The collar seam gave a second click.

Then a soft mechanical release sound, almost gentle.

The indicator light on the collar blinked rapidly.

Rikka's shoulders dropped half an inch, like a pressure had been removed from her throat.

"Now," Semireiya snapped.

Rikka moved.

Even bound, she used her body weight like a lever, shifting her hips and kicking her feet against the platform's restraint bracket. The bracket bent slightly.

Semireiya grabbed the restraint strap at Rikka's wrists and yanked. The strap didn't tear, but it loosened enough for Rikka to slide her hands out with a practiced twist.

Rikka's hood lifted slightly, exposing one eye. Sharp. Furious. Alive.

Usagi gasped.

Rikka's gaze flicked to Usagi first, then to Semireiya.

"About time," Rikka hissed.

Semireiya didn't answer. She cut the ankle restraints by brute leverage, ripping the locking tab free now that the collar's suppression was gone. The mechanism screamed in protest, but it broke.

An escort lunged onto the platform, restraint tool raised.

Rikka moved like a spring released.

She slammed her shoulder into the escort's chest and drove him backward off the platform edge, not into the drop, but into the catwalk rail. The rail shook, bolts squealing.

Semireiya grabbed Rikka's arm and pulled her toward the platform's side.

"Move," Semireiya said.

Usagi stepped back to create space, eyes bright with tears she didn't have time to wipe. She reached out and grabbed Rikka's sleeve like she needed to prove Rikka was real.

Rikka's hand caught Usagi's wrist for a brief moment.

A squeeze.

Then she released and moved with Semireiya.

The speaker box clicked again, and the voice changed, sharper now, angry that kindness hadn't worked.

[!]You can still stop. Please.

Semireiya's chest tightened.

Not because she believed it.

Because it hurt that the enemy knew that voice could hurt her.

Semireiya didn't look at the speaker box. She didn't respond.

She didn't answer. She moved.

The handler shouted, "Seal the line!"

The shutter tones began again, closer now, louder. The next segmentation point was ahead, and if it closed, they'd be trapped on the catwalk with escorts on both sides.

Rikka stumbled once as her legs remembered freedom too quickly. Semireiya caught her by the elbow without slowing.

"Can you run?" Semireiya asked.

Rikka's laugh was raw. "Try stopping me."

Usagi's antennae twitched wildly. She stared past them toward the next shutter line.

「あと…八秒…！」Eight seconds…!

Semireiya didn't question it. She trusted Usagi's timing the way she trusted gravity.

They ran.

Not blindly.

In rhythm.

Semireiya took the lead, pulling Rikka by the wrist. Usagi stayed tight behind, small steps quick and precise.

Behind them, the escorts recovered and followed. One fired a restraint band again. It snapped across the catwalk and caught Semireiya's calf, tightening with a harsh whine.

Semireiya almost fell.

Rikka reacted instantly, grabbing the band and yanking hard, using her full body weight to pull the strap's anchor point off alignment. The band loosened just enough.

Semireiya kicked free and kept running.

The strain in her head pulsed again, a dull pressure behind her eyes. The earlier push at the collar seam had cost something. She could feel it now in the way the corridor lights seemed too bright for half a second, then too dim.

She didn't stop.

They reached the shutter line as the plates began to descend.

Usagi shouted, voice cracking.

「今！」Now!

Semireiya ducked under the descending plates and dragged Rikka with her. Rikka dipped low, moving faster than her size suggested. Usagi slid under last, mesh cloak scraping the metal edge.

The shutter slammed down behind them with a final heavy clunk.

The escorts on the catwalk side hit the closed plates and cursed.

For the first time tonight, the cage bit the wrong people.

Semireiya didn't allow herself relief.

She kept running.

The corridor beyond the shutter line narrowed into a maintenance throat with handrails and cable bundles, the kind of space that punished speed. They slowed just enough to avoid smashing into pipes, then kept moving in controlled bursts.

Rikka's breathing was harsh, but steady.

Usagi was crying silently, tears tracking down her cheeks without sound.

Semireiya's vision wavered again. The pressure in her head intensified, a headache blooming behind her eye like a bruise spreading. For a moment, she felt a strange disconnection, as if her body was moving one fraction ahead of her awareness.

She grabbed the handrail hard and forced herself back into alignment.

Rikka noticed instantly. "Semi?"

Semireiya shook her head once. "Keep moving."

Usagi looked up, alarmed. "Are you…"

Semireiya didn't answer with words. She pressed her palm against the wall, grounding herself in rough concrete, and forced her breathing into a steady count.

One. Two. Three.

The world steadied.

Not fully.

Enough.

Rikka's voice dropped, rough and serious for once. "You pushed too hard."

Semireiya didn't deny it. Denial was pointless.

"We're alive," she said. "You're free."

Rikka's laugh was small, bitter, and grateful at the same time. "Yeah. Thanks for the rescue, boss."

Usagi's hand reached out and touched Rikka's sleeve again, gently, like checking she wouldn't vanish.

Rikka let her.

They moved deeper into the corridor, away from the sealed shutter line, away from the catwalk, away from the speaker box that kept borrowing voices it didn't deserve.

Behind them, muffled through metal plates, the calm voice returned, softer, almost amused.

[!]Mercy will be applied.

Semireiya kept walking.

She didn't look back.

But in her pocket, her wristband pulsed faintly, warm and warning, and she knew the price of that collar cut would follow her into the next chapter.