Chapter Text
This, Lisa Wilbourne thought to herself in a semi-hysterical moment of humor, was probably the third worst day of her life, which was exceptionally strange since it would also probably be the last day.
How exactly the thugs' master had gotten the streets clear enough that she couldn't yell for help wasn't clear, but it spoke to the level of control whoever it was had. Unfortunately (according to her very well-honed imagination) the thugs wanted her alive, and there were very few good reasons she could think of for that, but it did give her an opportunity to run and dodge fire from their non-standard guns. Tinkertech, obviously, and that made it pretty clear they weren't with the ABB, which was a little odd seeing as there were some very asian elements to this neighborhood. The paper lanterns, the red and green gang signs, the numerous chinese/japanese/korean/indian restaurants, all spoke to the local populace of hopeful refugees from a very rough part of the world.
Lisa reluctantly admitted to herself, as she shoved a trash can down in hopes of slowing her pursuers, that such thoughts were a little reductionist. She wasn't racist--she treated all pricks with equal disrespect, no matter the color of their skin--but certain factors had conspired to make minor prejudices a survival trait in the hellhole of Brockton bay. Those factors were, by name, Kaiser of the Empire Eighty Eight (presumably white, since he ran a nazi gang), Lung of the Asian Bad Boys (definitely japanese, though most people considered his ethnicity to be Asian Dragon), and Skidmark of the Archer's Bridge Merchants (technically african-american, though seemingly devoted to becoming the worst 'black ganger' stereotype since Jim Crow, despite his gang being the least racist of them all). Obviously not all white/asian/druggies belonged to the gangs, but even if nine times out of ten an aryan and an oriental could pass on the street without a fault, everybody remembered the nazi and the yakuza punk pulling guns on each other to bring death and terror. And that was before capes got involved...
As she covered her head and zigzagged to avoid what she desperately hoped was a stunning blast, Lisa reflected on how terrible the whole situation was and asked herself, again, why she'd come to this city. Yes, fine, it was infamous for its lack of PRT effectiveness, which gave her a better chance than most to stay out of her parents' grasp, but... well, that, that was pretty much it. She turned a corner, cursing the stupidity of her past teenage self (and, to be fair, her current teenage self) when she witnessed what, in a flash of brilliance, she hoped would be her salvation.
A red shinto gate.
Now Lisa would be the first to admit she wasn't the most religious of people, and even then she was more familiar with Judeo-Christian matters than any eastern faiths. In fact, her entire sense of relief was based less on the possibility of any spirit or god saving her, and more on the probability of well-known wrath of Lung and the ABB being brought to bear against any group that damaged their holdings. They were an asian gang, this was an asian place, one and one is two, and she could possibly slip away while things happened. Still, in the back of her mind, Lisa recognized it would be disrespectful to beg sanctuary without providing the spirits compensation, and she was at least partially aware that not all spirits were created equal. She'd studied enough asian lore to recognize that just because the fox statues were, well, fox statues, it didn't mean they were friendly kitsune; they could be unfriendly kitsune, or chinese huli jing, or something else. So as she sprinted through the gate, she pulled her wallet out of her pocket, the wallet that contained all the cash and gift cards she owned, and tossed it into the offering bowl with a mental prayer of 'please let this save my ass' before diving toward the main building.
The next three seconds were some of the most involved in the young woman's life, with a sequence of events she was only able to mentally order after she'd calmed down. There was... the flash of fire that consumed her wallet, which she saw out of the corner of her eye. There was a sensation of something both fond and amused looking over her, for half a second, before coming to a decision. The chill of the autumn air was pushed back by an inner warmth that made her joints feel unnaturally relaxed, even as the building in front of her stretched away just a bit. A sudden flap behind her made her ears flick (and a half second later she realized her ears had flicked and felt immensely baffled) followed by an odd bristling along her tail as it was exposed to the air (and then she realized she had a tail, and had an irrational thought about how hard it would be to groom it).
Lisa landed in the shrine on four new paws, and had a momentary burst of confusion that froze her in place. Then the sound of boots pounding on pavement reached her ears and she darted further into the shrine, curling up under a desk until she was absolutely certain the thugs chasing her had moved on.
Then she took a few minutes to review what had happened mentally.
"...Okay."
Lisa blinked, crossing her eyes and looking at her muzzle.
"O...kay. Okay okay. Ahem. She sells sea shells by the seashore... Okay, so I can still talk. That's... yeah, okay, okay." She took a deep breath. "Okay, okay, yeah, okay. This is happening. No need to panic. Actually, yes, there is a need to panic, but calmly. Calmly panic. Yep."
She rose to her paws with trepidation, carefully remastering the art of walking as practiced by a decent portion of animal life forms, and wandered out of the shrine with a dazed expression. She nodded vaguely at the clothes on the pathway--too large for her now, and they'd probably need a refit anyway--before approaching the offering dish and wrinkling her nose at the scent of burnt leather, plastic, and metals coming from the pile of ash.
A dripping sound made Lisa's ears flick back, and she turned around to find an ornamental fountain only a short distance away. Some part of her didn't want to acknowledge what she was doing, even as another part put her paws forward one step in front of the other. And yet, despite her wishes, she found herself putting her forepaws on the rim of the fountain and raising herself up to peer at her own reflection.
"...So," she said, looking at the green-eyed fox in the water, "that's what I look like." She tilted her head thoughtfully, flicking her ears one way and the other. "Still kinda blonde... more an orangy blonde, sure. And I think that I can sort of see my freckles in... my... fur..."
She stared at the reflection for a few seconds more.
With a deep breath, she dropped back down and trotted up to the statuette. "Okay, so... thank you for saving my life, and giving me your blessing I guess. Do you mind if I have a little existential crisis right now?"
The statuette didn't reply in words, but Lisa got the sense it understood her situation and didn't mind. Or maybe she was just attributing something to nothing.
"Kay, thanks."
Lisa took a deep breath, curled up on the cold cobblestones, and began to giggle hysterically.