How dare he. How dare he--this cracked, stained, broken thing--use her power, her strength, unannounced. How dare he use Mischa's gift to blunder into another's dream, stinking of his darker half's malignancy.
He walked through Dream Country under the mark of her power and as such it was Sato who bore responsibility for his presence.
For that alone, she wanted to kill him. She wanted to hurt him. Dig her claws under his chin and rip, hit his chest till the bones caved in, wring his neck. It was a primal, ugly urge, red in tooth and claw, and in that moment the Baku wanted to do more than anything.
Which is exactly why Sato didn't.
What she did do was look coolly at the bruised and sore face, at the pain under it, and said: "Do not take my hesitation in pulling your spleen out of your ears as a lack of desire to do so. You have exactly one chance to explain yourself."
Some of the story Sato could figure out on her own. Mischa. Clever, generous, reckless Mischa had given her new "friend" the token. For luck and courage, no doubt. Momentarily, Sato recalled the stab of terror at first sensing the token enter Dream Country, her assistant's face overlaid by horned shadows in her mind. The Baku had thrown herself after the scent, blind with--what? Fear. Guilt. Rage.
The relief upon identifying Asterion as the token's bearer was short-lived.
Tail lashing, she'd tracked the incomplete scent of him through the dreaming. When he finally entered the dream, Sato sank in after him. Her true shape melted and shrank, melting into something more human but no less terrible. No pretty kimono, this time, no cunning suit or fur. She'd wrapped her shape in an ao dai, the flowing lines and close fitting bodice a reminder to keep her temper sewn tight.
The Baku's voice softened into what in another's mouth could be mistaken for pity. "What did you do, pet, to make you retreat so deep into someone else's darkness? Oh, what did you do?"