You limp over to the first yak, the taller one with the baton, and see right away that he's no longer breathing. Then you take out you cell phone and dial for base security. It rings thrice before you get an answer.

“Security,” says a very, very disgusted voice, already anticipating “thirty puking marines” as the order of the shift.

“Admiral Settle here. I just killed two Yakuza outside of the Administration building. Better send someone to pick them up.” You tap the “end call” button, lock your phone and pocket it again. It starts buzzing almost immediately, but you ignore it, pushing your pantleg aside with the swordtip to check the injury. It's a good gash, but doesn't look too deep - and it's bleeding slow, so it's not life-threatening. You limp over to the discarded other half of your cane - technically the sheath, you figure - and pick it up. You're still trying to slide it back together, the blade tip jittering wildly in your grasp when someone calls out.

“Admiral?”

You turn quickly, pivoting on your bad leg, blade whipping out into a high guard towards the shadows under the trees and bushes that line the lane. Slowly, cautiously, the speaker steps into the pissyellow light of the sodium lamps.

You blink.

You squint at her outfit.

“Orange,” you say. Orange floats away through your brain, looking for something to connect with.

“Admiral Settle..?” The dark-haired girls eyes widen as she takes in the tableau. “I heard a battle - I made best time...”

You lower the sword slowly. “Sendai.”

She nods. “Tis I.”