Disclaimer: I do not own the characters involved.
A shadowy figure glanced through a set of binoculars into the room – at the slight girl writhing on the floor, an unwilling victim of nightmares. What are you thinking about, little mouse? What are your thoughts? He glanced at the M82 sniper rifle at his feet and carefully stood it up on its stand. An American weapon. America – an excellent land. Excellent weapons and excellent politicians who were willing to make deals. He glanced through the telescopic sight and zeroed in on his quarry. So ignorant, my little mouse. His eyes traced her delicate shoulders and her subtle features, barely illuminated by the light of the moon. She was a beautiful creature. It is always more diverting to have attractive prey. He placed his hand on the trigger. He had finished his calculations. He had considered the arc that the bullet would move in before entering the torso of the target. He was not so arrogant as to aim for the head. Besides, I would not wish to spoil that angelic face. The chance of hitting the target was one hundred percent. He would not miss. You can run, but you can't hide. The game of cat and mouse is over now, little mouse.
He was, after all, the most competent sniper in his brethren. Competent because he took his time and acted sensibly and rationally. It is time to bid farewell to this world.
He felt a slight vibration in his pocket and felt for his transmitter. Or not. A voice crackled out, but he did not hear. He glanced remorsefully at his quarry, then smiled broadly. That was diverting. We shall continue this another day, little angel. Farewell.
XXX
She was in a brightly lit courtyard surrounded by balconies on all four sides. The doors were locked and barred from the outside. She knew the sniper was there, but she could not see him. At one moment, a shadow flickered across the right balcony. The next, there was a light sound from her left. She saw a glimmering object straight ahead.
"What are you thinking about, little mouse?" A wintry and ruthless sound.
From behind. She turned, and gazed down the barrel of a rifle. She glanced up at the man. She could not see any features other than a smiling mouth. Incessantly smiling.
"It is always more diverting to have attractive prey."
She stood, paralyzed with fear. A pillar of ice. Frozen.
The man smirked, and placed his hand on the trigger.
She looked down. Hopeless. She was already dead.
A shroud of silence engulfed prey and predator.
"We shall continue this another day, little angel. Farewell."
Her eyes flew open. Her heart was hammering, her breath was fast and unsteady. Sweat rolled down her face. Her throat was constricted. A nightmare, she realized.
"We shall continue this another day, little angel. Farewell."
Soft laughter reverberated in her head as she sat up.
XXX
She froze as the doorbell rang. The Professor had requested that she answer the door and telephone while he attended a lecture about particle physics at the university. The usually unruffled child was currently incapable of not palpitating at each sound. Her slight body quivered like a leaf in the wind, but she managed to steady herself. She could not allow a simple disturbance in her brain at night disrupt her daily actions.
She opened the door to a man with a sizeable package. He appeared startled.
"Good morning, little girl." His voice had a deep lull that calmed her.
It is the postman. Only the postman. Time to give him the little girl façade.
"I have a package for a certain Mr. Komaki that I would like to deliver."
"Mr. Komaki does not live here. Perhaps you have come to the wrong address."
The postman inspected the address on the package. His face lit up in realization.
"Well, yes. I must have come to the wrong place." A sheepish chuckle.
She looked down at the package in curiosity, and then looked back up.
Something within her body leapt and she almost slammed the door. For upon the amicable face of the postman was plastered an incessant smile, turned up at cruel angles.
"Little girl, I must bid thee farewell … are you alone right now?"
He did not deign to wait for her reply, but continued with his smile.
"If you are, you may wish to check that all your doors are locked. Who knows what might lurk in the back yards of Tokyo, ne?" A chuckle. He turned and walked away. He entered the postal car, turned on the engine, and departed from the Agasa residence.
Another person who entered and exited her life without much consequence.
"He is only a postman." Yes, one of a breed of vile mail-delivering persons armed with a most malevolent smile. "Do not judge a man by his smile." Why not? "Don't. He is only a postman. A simple postman who seems incapable of finding his way around."
So why could she not cease the roiling torrent of uncertainty in her mind?
XXX
She decided to go outside for a walk – a walk in a public place with many people. The presence of the public was ultimately the best protection against danger from human sources. Should she call Kudo-kun or one of the Detective Boys? No. I am independent.
She walked out the front door and locked the door. She checked the lock three times. What is wrong with you? Her inner voice mocked. Are we reverting back to the old days, the days of insecurity and suspicion? All this from a dream and a postman?"
She walked down the street in the direction of the park. When she saw an elderly businessman who lived on the street, she spoke up, wincing as she noticed that her voice was quivering. "Sir, have you received your mail today yet?" Why do you need to know?
The man looked at her strangely, before responding.
"Little girl, the postman does not work on Sundays."
XXX
She sat on the park bench, her muscles quaking. Why are you so weak?
"He could have been a postman working for express delivery."
But can you risk it? Do not deceive yourself. You must stay on guard.
Yes. Stay on guard. Her eyes traveled around her and taking in all the information around her. She glanced at any moderate sized persons, analyzing the possibility that any one of them could possibly be a threat to her well-being. All seemed to be clear.
She looked back at a movement behind her. There was something hiding behind the bin. Her blood froze. Adrenaline ran through her bloodstream, and she prepared to run. Seconds later, there was a rustle and a pant. A canine. She tried to smirk.
She returned to her original position, her eyes passing by the rubbish bin.
Suddenly, she stiffened. The rubbish bin. There was something white inside.
She stood up and walked to the rubbish bin. She saw the package.
Did you say he was a postman working for express delivery?
She inspected the package and picked it up. It was surprisingly light.
Her eyes scanned across the package. No address was anywhere in sight.
Why had the postman come with an empty package without an address?
Why had he thrown away the package as soon as he had left? Why?
You know why. He was not a postman. This was not a real package.
When she opened the package, a rectangular slip of paper flew out and drifted slowly to the ground. There was a short note, stamped on using a typewriter.
As she read, a frosty feeling overtook her. She gasped and sank to the ground.
She released the paper as she crumpled. The paper spun precariously and landed.
"Accidents happen to everyone, even the best of us ... Miyano-san."
