Metal on Metal

Sparks erupt as Moses slams into Suraisu Oni, their metal plating grinding together, dragged down together in a tangle of rage and limbs. The Oni is frighteningly strong. Blackrock is still boiling Moses' blood and he rolls with the Oni, trying to avoid the grinding limbs still spinning, the image of them grinding through Mokuzai's helpless body burned into Moses' mind.

He hears Kyoshi coming. The Oni twists in his grasp like a coiled spring, shuddering with effort. Through its metal skin Moses can hear gear-teeth tearing at one another, levers straining and snapping. He grits his teeth and clenches harder, white spots appearing in his vision, straining, until he hears the Oni's body begin to buckle and cave.

Kyoshi is sailing gracefully through the air. The Oni makes a last thrashing effort to get free. Moses feels his grip slipping, trying to avoid Keibatsu's shining blade -

A fragment of Gogajin field-hat floats past lazily, its edge soaked in blood.

Moses chokes back a strangled sob and shifts his weight unexpectedly, twisting the body of the Oni so that it is on top of him, gripped in his straining arms. He slides up his mechanical hand and clenches down on the Oni's neck, ratcheting its head to the side so that it rests on his shoulder, immobilized.

He looks up to catch the ferocious silver gleam in Kyoshi's eyes, light lightening burning in a storm-cloud. A white-hot bar of agony sears through Suraisu Oni's head, shears it apart, continues down through Moses' shoulder, cutting down into the mix of altered flesh and machinery that is beneath it. He feels it grind out through the other side of his body, pinning him to the floor.

Everything goes black.

He sees Mokuzai, seated, his back to him, hunched as if exhausted. He is in a dark room, alone, preparing a cup of tea, singing softly as if to himself in a low, clear voice. The light in the room is fading. Moses tries to call out but there is no breath here. As the light is snuffed out, the last thing is the gleam of the edge of a worn, battered hat, its curve like a slow, grim smile.

Goodbye.