Yoro Umezawa, after the war with the Greater Oni and the grand skirmishes with the last of the Shogun’s ronin had settled. Unlike many in Akashima, what he settled for was to hold himself to the self-same esteem that had guided the ninja clans to survival. Though he had, reportedly, hung up his blades he fought his own private war in another, new, and exciting battleground: the night clubs of Capitol. He owned the two finest, most reputable, but also most debauchee of establishments. Lilith had it on good authority those blades were not, in fact, on his mantel. They still swung in the moonlight to napes of those who disturbed the peace or brought shame to his house.

Though he seldom made an appearance in person, patrons would spend hours amongst the carnival of lights and sensations in the hopes of catching a glimpse. In truth, Yoro spent most nights on the floors, masquerading as one of the clubs many fantastical creatures that had torn open the boundaries between reality and madness. One night he was a spidery hag, the next a lithe lizard faced brute. Nobody in Capitol had seen his true face for decades.

“Which one are you tonight,” Lilith mused as she crossed the bustling street and came to the front of the Golden Dawn.

Needing no introductions, the bouncer pulled aside the barrier and let the geisha in. The swirling sensations of Capitol’s ever busy entertainment district fell away to echoing bass tones of distant drums. Lilith composed herself as she descended a wooden staircase lined with traditional art. It was a remnant of the okiya once housing the city’s prospective meiko, left as a nod to the old ways.

“Probably in the paintings…” amused, she counted the matrons who had spurned her all those years ago and stopped in front of the last photo. “Good lord.”

Staring back at, the face of Tashiro Umezawa was unforgettable. A stern, cold figure, she had moulded Lilith into the woman she was. The senator had seemingly forgotten the ties that bound the famous and noble of her home.

“That’s why he keeps saying it’s good to have me home.” She had always presumed there was another motive, but now she remembered the shy, aloof boy who had spent the summers with his grandmother the connection was clearer.

Leaving the corridor behind, she pushed against the paper wall that served as a feeble barrier to the wonders beyond. The moment she opened the hidden door music spilled over her, the distant drums sudden and looming and the sound of a hundred voices high on life and darker things excited her.

“Kazumi-sama,” a serving call said seemingly appearing from thin air. “It is good to have you with us.”

Lilith bolted about, and relaxed when she saw an old friend. “I am pleased to you so too, Aki.” They bowed, Aki’s greeting lower to remind Lilith she was long past being able to sneak in unnoticed. “Oh, stop. Titles aside, you are equal in my eyes.”

“Not here, Kazumi-sama. Not with people watching. Shall I see you to a table?” With pleading eyes, Aki returned to tradition and waited for her orders.

“Suit yourself. Yes please, a booth with a view of the stage if one is available.” Lilith looked beyond through the gloom and smoke veil. She could see the booths were full.

“One just became available,” Aki said, scuttling off with a gesture for Lilith to follow. “Your usual table in fact.”

Lilith sighed. She was not used to such treatment. Democracy was supposed to bring equality, but some habits died too slowly. Following, she wove through the crowds of stern housewives and wastrels. She checked each face against her known list of aliases for their patron and her heart sank when she did not see him.

“This table is reserved,” Aki said, a dangerous edge to her voice that Lilith knew was sign she had pledged her heart to the Onobi clan. Their agents held sway over men that defied reason. Others called it magic, but in Akashima, Aki was a Spirit-Warder and held sway over things far beyond the Tap. When the patrons laughed at her, they soon scuttled away abandoning their seats at the site of her eyes burning with umbral fire.

“Aki, a few coins under the table would have sufficed.” Lilith rested her hand on the girl’s shoulder when she finally caught up. “Change may have come, but you’re still vulnerable.”

“I am, Kazumi-sama, but less than last we met.”

Lilith felt for the girl, though knew the allure of the clans had its power over all orphans. A sense of belonging when the world had spurned you was what drew her to the Kazumi clan. Though they were technically rivals, no war had made friends of old enemies.

“I can see that.” Lilith said proudly. “One day you’ll let me address you Aki-sama without running out of the room.”

Aki flinched. “No, Kazumi-sama, I will never be as you are. You are a senator.” Aki edged away, bowing ceremoniously and as Lilith noted, far too low.

“Mark my words, I’ll change your mind one day!” Lilith remembered why she came. “But if it pleases you, I’ll have sake, the house platter, and whatever Yoro has left behind the bar for me.”

Aki made a mental note of the order and disappeared into the crowd. Lilith chuckled behind her mask, wishing she had chosen a less auspicious masquerade. Just as the nightclubs retained semblances of their old ways, she had fallen afoul of her own moniker and now everyone in Akashima knew who the White Fox was. She edged gracefully into the booth then sat with an unceremonious slouch.

“I am so looking forward to this.”

All around her, on plinths and traditional stages dancers performed old and new arrangements from all walks of life. Geisha to the east in golden trimmed dress praised the summer. Spidery tendrilled hags to the south screamed out high opera. Street performers performed magic to the west. Strange magic throughout the bar made sure only those who were close heard the truth, leaving strange pockets of silence and sobriety covering the booths. Business, as well as pleasure, was blossoming in Akashima’s nightclubs.

“Your order, Kazumi-sama.”

Appearing once again out of thin air, Aki set out Lilith’s drink and sashimi before her with grace and dexterity. Another flurry of bows signalled the girl’s departure before Lilith had time to mutter another offence to her stature. The white fox blinked, tried to form words, and gave up.

“Thank you Aki-sama,” she said to no one in particular.

Reaching for the chopsticks, Lilith settled down to her dinner and made short work of the sake. No matter how much she poured, though, the bottle never cooled or emptied. Soon enough, her head was electrified with ideas and markers of diminished responsibility. The geisha wished her newfound divinity did not so expertly combat the mortal inebriation she had, for so many years, relied on to escape the troubles of the day. She was so engrossed in preparing for her first performance in years she did not see she wasn’t the only fox in the Golden Dawn that night.