Ritsu frowned. Or, she would have, if she'd had actual eyebrows. Or an actual body. Whatever. She felt like she was frowning, an existence in the digital world though she was. Before her—all around her, actually—data extended, a perfect display of information represented by zeroes and ones. To the untrained eye, it would appear to be a confusing series of numbers, indecipherable and incomprehensible. But to Ritsu, it was a beautiful painting: a logical, perfect piece of art.

Except for that part. It fit into the binary painting, yes, but something was…suspicious about it. Ritsu subconsciously did a scan around her. Good. So far, no one had detected her trespassing into this database. It would only be a small issue if they did, of course; Ritsu could easily leave if the need arose. In that case, however, she'd be leaving behind this conspicuous-looking piece of data—and that wouldn't sit well with her at all. Confident no one knew she was there, Ritsu took a closer look at the data.

Strange…it was a transcript, though about what Ritsu couldn't say. Curiously, despite the openness of all the other transcripts she'd found in this database this far—from log entries to daily reports—this specific record was encrypted. Several times over, in fact. What could this database—one seemingly belonging to a simple medical research facility—have to hide to this degree?

It all seemed too suspicious. For the last few months, Ritsu had been scouring the internet in search of illegal activity, helping to root out many digital criminals. But ever since last month, she'd been intrigued by a particular case—one that seemed to have something to do with one Kotaro Yanagisawa, a man who had, seven years ago, tried and failed to kill the superbeing known as Korosensei. The mention of the man had instantly piqued Ritsu's curiosity. How was she to have known how far it would lead her? Now, a month and a half later, she was still searching for the source of all this suspicious activity surrounding Yanagisawa and what had happened to him. She felt like she was so close. Somehow, this seemingly unassuming research facility was part of it. This transcript had to mean something. It had to.

Of course, trying to encrypt it now could mean setting off a bunch of alarms. Perhaps she could try to take over or disable the antivirus programs installed in the database. Of course, if this research facility really was hiding something big, then their security would probably be a lot tighter than the exterior would suggest. But why, then, hadn't they already detected Ritsu? Sure, she was brilliant at what she did, but this deep into their systems, higher level detection software would have long since noticed her arrival. As it stood, it all seemed too easy.

Ritsu backed off, leaving the transcript where it was. There was no need to know what was there just yet. She'd wait, bide her time, research what defenses this database had before recklessly decrypting—

Around her, everything began to go into shutdown mode, a virtual alarm sounding throughout the database. Ritsu froze. Distantly, she could sense antivirus programs scanning every inch of the database, looking for her. Evidently they'd noticed she was here, but didn't know exactly where. Great. Fine. She'd have to pull back for now, maybe investigating later when things had calmed down—

She couldn't get out. What? Somehow, the database was now surrounded in a layer of defense that hadn't been there when she'd gone in. Where had that come from? And how was she supposed to get out now?

And then it hit her. It was a trap. They'd planned this. Lure her in with the guise of low security and the prospect of an uncovered secret, then block her escape route and eliminate her. They must have known she'd come here, from her previous actions. She was used to getting out of bad situations with little difficulty. It had made her sloppy.

Well, no matter. She was one of the most powerful artificial intelligences out there. Even with the higher than normal security, there was no way they'd—

A sudden pain shot through her. Whirling around, Ritsu found the antivirus right beside her. How—? No, there was no way it had snuck up on her so easily. Indeed, as she dodged another of its attacks, she could tell. Someone was guiding this thing.

Virtual heart pounding, Ritsu dashed off, but found her path blocked the by antivirus. She turned around frantically, trying another route, but it was no use—she was cornered from all sides, all exits blocked. Growling, she lashed out furiously at one of the antiviruses. A few went down, defeated, but as she fought others came up from behind and jumped up on her back.

Pain erupted in a million spots all over her as the antiviruses swarmed, under the direction of the unseen human pilot. Even as she felt herself dying, Ritsu spared a moment of hatred for whoever was doing this to her. Hate quickly turned to fear—not for herself, oddly enough. If whoever was behind all this felt the need to eliminate Ritsu, they couldn't be up to anything good. As much as she didn't want to involve anyone else, especially not anyone she cared about, she knew someone had to see this mystery to its end, bring these people to justice.

As she began to lose herself underneath all the pain, Ritsu composed an email—one containing the encrypted transcript. In her final moments of lucidity, she just managed to send it out before dying.

.

With fluid movements that came from the expert training of an assassin, Nagisa sketched out the chemical equation on the blackboard, bringing the chalk down with a last satisfying stroke to finish it off. With a spin, he turned to the class.

"To end off today's lesson, I want you all to write down this chemical equation and figure out what's wrong with it. You'll have to look into the next lesson in your textbooks to figure it out; that's chapter 2.3, page 55." As the bell rang, Nagisa gave the class a smile. Everyone slowly filed out, students returning his smile or saying goodbye or asking a quick question, which Nagisa was happy to answer. Finally, the room was empty save for him. Smiling and humming quietly to himself, he grabbed his laptop and bag from his desk and prepared to leave. Normally he'd stay and take care of any students returning to inquire something of him, but he had to get to his tutoring job; a session was scheduled soon after the school day ended.

Heading down the hallway, various students lingering to chat, Nagisa was reminded how short he still was, even at twenty-two years of age. It seemed every student, most at least seven years younger then him, looked over him, though at least most had the courtesy to never mention it, instead waving to him or saying a terse hello. Even the delinquents were polite with him, and though many still made teasing remarks, they were generally good-natured. Yes, he'd found good students, despite their originally hostile exterior.

Striding into the faculty room, populated by several teachers, Nagisa headed for his desk, meaning to grab what personal effects he'd left there and leave. However, a pretty face stopped down to meet his surprised eyes.

"Hey, Nagisa," Omori greeted him, her smile pleasant. A fellow teacher, Akiko Omori was pretty, brilliant and tall—a whole embarrassing foot taller than Nagisa himself. With flowing black hair tucked up in a high ponytail and glasses that only accentuated her smarts and heightened her beauty, it wasn't difficult to see why the male staff were enamored by her.

Of course, with her having to bend down to level with his eyes, Nagisa wasn't entirely happy with her being there. Still, he smiled as she stood upright. "Miss Omori. How was your day?"

She smiled. "Great. The students did excellently on their test, just like I knew they would." She paused, noticing Nagisa hastily stuffing books into his bag. "You're…heading somewhere?"

Nagisa nodded. "Sorry; I'd love to talk normally, but I have a tutoring lesson with a student."

"Ah, I see," Omori said. "I hope they don't give you too much trouble. I know how difficult kids can sometimes be." She gave a sympathetic smile.

Yeah, but you don't have to look up at every one of your students, Nagisa thought. "Not this one. She's a good kid."

Omori nodded as Nagisa slowly stepped for the door. "Well, have a good night, Nagisa. See you tomorrow!" She waved warmly as he left, and as he returned the wave, he noticed a few hateful glares from the other male teachers.

Shaking his head, Nagisa got in his car and drove towards a nearby library, the one he and his student always met at. She seemed to like it best; why, though, Nagisa wasn't sure. He was happy for her being happy, though; her grin seemed to be infectious. And she really was a splendid student; so earnest and eager to learn. It reminded me of his days in Kunukigaoka. Was this how Korosensei felt about Class E? About Nagisa?

Heading to the table they normally met at, he sat down, pulling out his laptop while he waited for his student. As he powered it on, a tiny ding rang out from the computer; he had mail. Still waiting, Nagisa checked it quickly. Typical, typical, services he'd signed up for, ads, a notice for all teachers—and something from Ritsu. Nagisa frowned. He hadn't talked with Ritsu in quite a while, though the A.I. did usually talk with him every few months or so. Not by email, though. He moved the mouse to open it, when…

"Nagisa!"

Nagisa looked up. Ah, there she was. Sakura Kiyashiki strode over to him, a bright, broad grin on her lips as she took a seat next to him. She was in her last year of middle school now, the same age Nagisa had been during his year with Korosensei, now that he thought about it. A talented, smart, and passionate girl, Sakura was Nagisa's favourite student, though he'd never admit that to anyone. Just what future did she have in store? No doubt a bright one. As her teacher—well, tutor, really—he felt honored to help guide her on her path.

"Good afternoon, Sakura," he greeted, returning her contagious smile. "You had a good day at school?"

She nodded, pulling out her books from her bag. "Yep! We're starting a unit on water in science. I've always been intrigued by the ocean. I'm really excited to learn about it!"

Nagisa laughed. "Well, you'll really find an 'ocean' of cool facts there."

Sakura rolled her eyes, sliding her notebook atop the other books in front of her. "What did I say about stupid puns, Nagisa? Anyway, we're going over math today, right?"

Nagisa nodded as Sakura pulled out her math textbook, flipping it open alongside her notes. They delved into the material, Nagisa happily explaining the things Sakura didn't understand to her, Sakura absorbing it all with a fervent love for learning. Nagisa still didn't know where she'd gotten that love of learning from; when he'd first met her she'd been disdainful towards the whole process to say the least; but it only made him want to teach her more, to teach her better. As he explained some of the lessons, he felt his mind drift as it sometimes did to those days as Korosensei's pupil, and he without even at first realizing it began employing the odd yet effective analogous explanations of his former teacher, comparing a mathematical principle to the way tentacles worked. Sakura teased him as always about his strange explanations, but took it all in anyhow, using his words to help her figure out various problems.

By the end of the lesson, Sakura seemed confident she'd be able to ace her next math test, and her capabilities in other areas had improved plenty as well. As she left him with a smile and a wave, Nagisa felt satisfied. A great end to a good day, as his tutoring sessions with Sakura usually were.

He almost got up to head home, before he remembered the out-of-the-ordinary email he'd received from Ritsu. Pulling out his laptop, he maneuvered to the mail application and opened the email. Odd, he thought. No subject, no actual words. Just an attached file. Clicking on it, he received a message saying the file was encrypted. Great, Ritsu. You're the tech savant, not me. How am I supposed to open this? Sighing, he composed a brief email telling her he couldn't open the file, sending it after he was satisfied.

Finally done for the day, Nagisa rose, ready to finally return home.

.

The white glow of the computer screen was the only thing to brighten Sakura's otherwise dark room, apart from the moonlight streaming through her window. Her fingers danced atop the keyboard, quickly typing a different search into Google. Her brow furrowed as she scrolled down through the results, studying each site. Nothing seemed too promising; everything looked as useless as what she'd already found.

Sighing, Sakura stretched back, her eyes trailing on the items on her desk. The mini assignment Nagisa had given her after their tutoring session today. A picture of her and Nagisa together—she'd taken that one in seventh grade, much to his chagrin; still, he let her take it. A karate certificate. Her hair pins, taken out now that she didn't feel the need to look pretty.

Below, she could hear her father yelling raucously at the television. Ignoring him, she returned to her computer, and the search term she'd entered in: Class E Octopus. Every result was one she'd either checked before or didn't look to be of much use. More articles talking about how a mysterious entity with incredible speed had terrorized Kunukigaoka's Class E students seven years ago. Sakura could probably recite some of the articles by heart at this point.

She scowled, resting her head against her hand, eyeing the picture of her and Nagisa on her desk. What happened all those years ago, Nagisa? She thought. She was sure there was something more than the news always seemed to hint at. Whenever she broached the topic with Nagisa, he'd never give her a straight answer. Yet whenever Sakura had tried a subtler approach, she'd always gotten the sense that there was…something about that year. It sat in the back of her mind on nights like this.

Leaning back, she closed the tab. No luck today, either. Maybe one day she'd find something, but not tonight.

Shutting down the computer, Sakura rose, pushing the rolling chair under the desk. She glanced at the clock: 10:00 at night. She should probably get to bed or else feel sleepy all day tomorrow at school, but she was feeling restless. Glancing at her pillow, she felt an idea forming. Sakura strode over to her bed, snatched up the pillow, and propped it up atop her dresser, so it leaned against the wall. Then, getting into position, she readied her body. Karate wasn't the only martial art she'd become familiar with, though it was, as of yet, the only one she'd fully mastered. Still, she was a near expert on a number of styles of fighting, just in case she should ever need to defend herself. After all, she was fairly short, easily underestimated—even shorter than Nagisa, who seemed to wilt at any mention of his height. With the skills she'd garnered, she was confident she could defend herself against any attacker.

And tonight, she felt like lashing out. Her father had been drunk again when she'd come home from her tutoring lesson. He rarely got violent, physically speaking, but with liquor in his stomach he tended to feel the need to express his anger—usually by getting into an argument with Sakura. Those verbal battles always left her mad and scared, and needing to let it out somehow. She'd never tried using her pillow as a punching bag, but maybe it could work.

Getting into a stance, she let loose a series of attacks, battering and beating the pillow into submission. It took the hits like a champ, receiving every move she'd learned. A few times Sakura thought she might have hit hard enough to tear a hole through the wall, but luckily there were no marks each time she checked.

She finally stopped a half an hour later, not satisfied, but needing to call it quits for the night. Besides, her dad was going to notice the racket eventually, and when he did, another argument would undoubtedly ensue. Breathing hard, her heart pounding, sweat pooling in various areas across her body, Sakura at last jumped into bed.

As she closed her eyes, ready to go to sleep, her mind raced with thoughts of Nagisa, as they often did. Sakura wouldn't deny it; she loved him. Of course, a relationship would never work, what with him being twenty-two and her being in her final year of middle school. Still, in the silence of her room, Sakura allowed herself to dream of her and Nagisa holding hands, or of him embracing her gently, or laying his lips gently on hers—

A banging followed by a series of muffled curses from downstairs interrupted her thoughts. Her dad must stubbed his toe or something.

Sakura tried to ignore him, tried to return to her wishful, blissful thoughts, but an itching began to root itself into the back of her head. The Class E mystery. It still bothered her. She really wanted to know what was going on there; lately, the curiosity had been getting more and more powerful, and the fact that Nagisa so often avoided the topic altogether was even more frustrating. But what could she do? Tonight was no different than any other of the nights she'd tried to find answers.

She sighed. She wished she was back in elementary school, the year the whole incident had happened. That year, for whatever reason, Class E had decided to lend a hand to old Matsukata and his school, fixing up the place and helping manage the kids. That year was the year Sakura had met Nagisa. If only she'd thought to ask him then...maybe he'd have been more willing to tell her what was going on. But she'd never even thought about why they were helping out; she had just been a kid.

Sakura frowned. Why had they helped out that school? The act of kindness may have been just that, but it seemed unlikely that the students of Class E would have had time to bother helping out a random school right when they ought to have been studying for exams. Not to mention that it didn't seem like the sort of thing students dealing with a crazy octopus creature as a teacher would have had time for. As a kid, Sakura hadn't ever thought about it, but she recalled always thinking that Matsukata seemed to know something she hadn't—

"That's it!" Sakura cried, sitting upright in bed.

Ripping off the covers, she dashed over to her computer booting it back up. She bounced her leg in anticipation as it slowly woke up. Hurriedly logging on to her email, she composed a brief message, before recalling she didn't even know Matsukata's email. Actually, was he even alive? The thought was sort of morbid, but it was pertinent. With a quick search, she found him on Facebook, still active. Luckily, his email was listed there. Grinning, Sakura returned to her composition, entering his address and finishing up the email.

She sat back once it was sent. Her itch wasn't fully scratched, but this helped a million. She replayed the brief message in her head as she finally got to bed for real: Dear Mr. Matsukata. This is Sakura Kiyashiki. I used to go to your school seven years ago. I was wondering if I could talk with you about something that happened that year. Please get back to me as soon as possible. Thanks, Sakura.

.

Okano held her breath, though she had to take another one before long. Her chest heaved, her body shaking with both adrenaline and exhaustion. Still, she stood proudly before the judges, preparing herself. Her performance hadn't been awful, but there were a million tiny things she could have done better. Would the judges notice? How badly would she get scored for it?

After what felt like an eternity, the table of judges held up their scores: 9, 8, 9, 9. Okano breathed out. It wasn't as good a score as she had gotten in the past, but it would serve her well here. Hopefully with a score like that, she'd make it into the next round of the gymnastics tournament.

Bowing to the judges, Okano walked off the stage, heading for the locker room amid a shower of applause from the spectators above. Inside the locker room, she stripped off her skintight gymnastics suit, changing into a skirt and shirt combo, complete with a mini jacket. Heading out, she climbed a flight of steps up to the area where gymnasts who'd completed their runs sat. Once greeted by a series of compliments and congratulations from her fellow competitors, Okano glanced down below into the stands where the regular spectators sat. Hiroto met her gaze, waving with a grin. She returned it, before turning her attention to the next gymnast.

Soon enough, the competition was over. Eight gymnasts, Okano included, would proceed onto the quarter finals. She couldn't help but smile as she left the building, swinging Hiroto's hand in her own gleefully.

Hiroto smiled at her. "You seem happy."

She raised a brow, though she still beamed broadly. "Of course I'm happy. I just got into the quarter finals!"

"Yeah, but…well…" He trailed off, rubbing his neck awkwardly.

She frowned. "What?"

"You…didn't get as high a score as you normally do." He put his hand up suddenly. "Not that you did bad; actually you blew me away. I just thought maybe you'd be dissatisfied."

Huh…so he noticed. "Nah. Well, I do wish I could have done better, but I'm fine with what I gave. Again, I'm just ecstatic to be going to the quarter finals!" It would be the first time she'd gotten that far in all her years of trying. Truth be told, Okano was almost nervous about it all, despite the fact that gymnastics came like breathing to her.

"Heh," Hiroto grinned. "Well, I'm happy for you." He leaned in close near her ear, nipping at it with his teeth. She stifled a moan. "And I know just the way we can celebrate, once we get back to the apartment."

Okano could barely wait until they'd arrived. As soon as Hiroto, keys still in hand, had closed the door behind him, Okano tackled him, lips furiously battling with his, her arms wrapping around his muscular frame with fervour. They grappled with each other, stumbling through the apartment, bumping from wall to wall down the hallway until they arrived at their bedroom.

Pulling her lips off Hiroto's, Okano pushed him down onto the bed. He grinned, stripping off his jacket and tossing it to the side. Okano crept onto the bed as he lay back, crawling up to meet his lips with her own. She then moved down his neck, planting kisses down to his collarbone. Blushing brilliantly, Hiroto stripped off his shirt before his hands pulled her in for another kiss, their tongues dancing together. As Okano felt his muscular torso, she registered Hiroto's fingers working their way under the hem of her shirt, feeling her skin. Moving down his chest, leaving a trail of kisses, she began to unbutton his fly—

The phone began to ring. Okano ignored it, but Hiroto sat upright suddenly. "Shit! That's probably Yuma!"

He slid off the bed, buttoning his pants. Okano frowned, glaring at him in dissatisfaction. He shot her an apologetic look before heading off. Okano heard him pick it up on the last ring and begin talking with Isogai.

Sighing, she lay back on the bed. Hiroto…why did he always do those sorts of things? Okano loved him to death, but sometimes he completely misread her, or ruined the mood, or was just oblivious in one way or another. It was just so…frustrating.

Eventually, Hiroto returned. "Sorry about that, babe. You know Yuma—he works all day, right? He said he'd probably get a chance to call me tonight, though. About when I might want to hang out with him this weekend. I was thinking about heading to the gym with him Saturday. Would you…want to come?"

Okano chewed her lip. Should she dig into him for interrupting their time for Isogai? No…Hiroto wouldn't take it to heart. Stifling another sigh, she sat up. "Sure, but only if Megu comes."

Hiroto rubbed the back of his neck. "I guess I can call him back. Don't know if he's available—the guy works ever waking second, I swear—but I'll definitely try." Pocketing his phone, he strode over to Okano, bending down and pecking her cheek. In a low voice, he murmured, "Now, where were we?"

Okano stood up, wrapping her arms around his neck and giving him a light kiss. "Sorry, Hiroto—let's leave it tonight. You kind of killed the mood earlier, and I think I need some…time. By myself. If that's alright."

He frowned. "Time? What for?"

She let her hands fall from his shoulders, sliding them down his chest before she gave him another peck. "Don't worry. I'll come back soon enough, and we can have the night to ourselves."

And so Okano left him, not bothering to see his reaction. Right now, she wasn't happy with him, but she didn't know how to tell him. Couldn't a call from Isogai have waited? Damn it…Hiroto was just so…annoying sometimes!

And she really did want some time to herself. To think about Hiroto, and the gymnastics tournament, and…things. Sometimes, Okano just felt like…like life was a ring puzzle: complicated, confusing, without a visible solution. And all she did was just go through the same strokes every day: practise her gymnastics, teach a group of kids on the mountainside by the old Class E building, spend time with Hiroto…get mad at Hiroto…get confused at Hiroto…go back to loving him…

Maybe she just needed something different. As she strode through the hallway, turning into the living room area and flopping down on the couch, she pulled out her phone, scrolling through social media. More boring updates from people she didn't even know…why did she bother?

Something caught her eye. Squinting at the screen, Okano read the words over again. A party…and nearby, too. She hadn't been to a party in ages. Could this be what she needed to change up her life?

Feeling a smile tugging at her lips, she wrote down the address and time before slipping the phone into her pocket and heading back down to greet Hiroto.

.

I don't trust this one, Okuda decided as she stared across the room. The reason for her distrust, a tall man with a pointed nose and slicked back hair, stood talking quietly with several facility managers, his entourage of business-suited men quietly giving off an air of authority and intimidation behind him. From this far away, Okuda couldn't hear their conversation, though latent training pushed her to casually position herself someplace she could inconspicuously eavesdrop. She ignored those urges, glancing at Takebayashi as he stopped beside her.

"Think those are guys from Re-Core?" Takebayashi asked, his voice a whisper. Okuda eyed him; he hadn't changed much from their days together in Class E. With those oval glasses and that nerdy haircut, he still resembled closely his younger self, though the lab coat and taller stature did provide an added level of maturity.

"Who else?" Okuda whispered in reply. Re-Core. The mysterious company had suddenly, almost out of the blue, bought up the small research facility Okuda and Takebayashi worked in. Almost overnight, money had been pouring into their lab, as well as orders to finish up whatever studies they were working on to make time for the new assignments they were to be given. To Okuda, it all seemed fishy. Why would Re-Core have suddenly taken interest in their tiny facility? Why so much money for a place with such little accomplishments, all things considered? And why the ambiguity about what it was they were to be working on? Perhaps she was being paranoid, but the whole thing just didn't sit right with Okuda.

Her troubled thoughts must have shown on her face, because Takebayashi gave her a sidelong frown. "You think something's off, too, don't you? I know that look."

Okuda nodded. "It just doesn't make sense. Why us? And why all the hushing up? Whenever I talk to Kawamoto about our mysterious assignments, he just gives me vague replies." Kawamoto was the meek head of the research facility, one step above Okuda and Takebayashi. Currently, he was chatting with the hawk-nosed man at the back.

Takebayashi pushed his glasses up. "I'm sure we'll see what it is we're to be doing soon enough. If we're pivotal to whatever it is they want done, and I imagine we are, then they won't be able to keep it a secret from us for very long."

Okuda sighed, and was about to return to her work, when she noticed the hushed conversation at the back finishing up, Kawamoto and the hawk-nosed man and his entourage breaking apart. The tall Re-Core representative then walked into the middle of the main lab area, hands clasped behind him. That calm, condescending smirk sent an uncomfortable chill down Okuda's spine.

"Attention, everyone," the man said in a loud voice, addressing the room of scientists. Everyone stopped their work and turned to face him; clearly they'd been watching him for the last few minutes as well, likely anticipating this moment. "Good afternoon. I trust you are all almost ready for your new assignments. I am a representative from Re-Core; my associates you can see are behind me there." He gestured to the suits. "To prepare you all, I'd like to…outline what this research facility is being tasked with. A certain sample was recently procured, and has been in our possession for some time. However, only now do we believe it is prudent to begin to dissect it. You all will be given parts of this sample. We want you to analyze it, do tests on it, find out all that it can and will do. Perhaps in time we will add to this, but for now, suffice it to say this is your assignment. You will receive the sample next week. Good day."

With that, the hawk-nosed man turned and gathered with his associates, talking in quiet whispers.

"Well, that doesn't give us much," Takebayashi said, crossing his arms. "What's the sample? What are we testing for?"

Okuda shook her head. "I don't know. But we'll find out in a week, I guess." And whatever it was, Okuda had a feeling it wouldn't be anything like what they normally studied. Still, it couldn't be that bad, and certainly not illegal. These scientists were ordinary people, and in direct contact with whatever this sample was. If they thought anything was amiss, or breaking the law, they would say something, either to Kawamoto or to the police. Or, at least, Okuda would.

Takebayashi eyed her with a frown. "You're not…gonna try investigating that Re-Core guy, are you?"

Okuda paled at the idea. "No. If it comes to confrontation, I'm dead." Okuda could easily handle conversation with people she was friends with, like Takebayashi, and even people like Kawamoto to a certain degree. But strangers? She could barely nod or shake her head. It was something she still hadn't gotten over from even her days as a child.

"Good." Takebayashi nodded. "I know it's tempting to want to upend this whole thing and get to it's bottom, but chances are, if this really is as shady as it seems, they won't have any trouble burying our silence one way or another if it comes to it."

Okuda frowned. Were they just being paranoid about all this? Takebayashi was talking about it all like it was already a confirmed illegal operation, but what evidence did they really have? Only suspicions. Perhaps it was all innocent, perhaps their new assignments would be as ordinary as a small research facility like theirs should expect.

And yet, when she looked at that man's face, the hawk-nosed Re-Core representative, all she could feel was unease. Maybe it was the way he seemed to regard Kawamoto with disdain, with condescension and disregard. Maybe it was the way he held himself, almost militarily, the same way Karasuma had, completely unlike how a manager or a scientist would. Maybe it was the tone of his deep voice when he'd talked to them, like a parent giving some half-assed excuse to their child. Whatever it was, it seemed to crack open a burning, smoldering fire of unease and anxiety in Okuda's stomach. Somehow, she knew, even if this man turned out to be completely ordinary, she'd never get along with him.

As she returned to her work, Takebayashi moving off to return to his, Okuda kept an eye and an ear on the man and his group at all times, as though he was an assassin under cover, and might strike at any moment. He always stayed near the back, away from the scientists in the lab, shooing away even Kawamoto. At various points Okuda tried getting near him, pretending to be seeing to one mundane task or another, but almost as if on purpose he would always avoid her, never staying within earshot. All she ever heard were distant, slurred whisperings. It aggravated her to no end.

But in the end, she never confronted him. She couldn't, by nature and by logic. As she drove home for the day, Okuda reflected bitterly that the only thing she could do was wait…and see.

.

I swear, if I have to carry these bags for another five minutes, I'm gonna pass out, Terasaka thought vengefully. In his hands, plastic and paper bags alike hung from his fingers, their combined weight turning his fingertips purple. His arms ached from having lugged the stuff around a dozen blocks, and sweat beaded on his forehead and stained the pits of his dress shirt. Breathing heavily, Terasaka stared daggers into the back of the head of his boss.

"Oh, look there! Wouldn't that look wonderful on me?" His boss cried joyously, pointing a manicured finger towards a shop across the street. Eyes gleaming, she faced Terasaka with glee, and he was forced to put on a smile. At this point, it likely looked like a grimace, but he was too tired to care.

Without waiting for an answer, Terasaka's boss dashed across the street, heedless of cars, forcing him to follow at his own risk. How had he gotten stuck as this horrible woman's secretary, again?

Of course, the universe decided Terasaka's torture was not finished by the time they'd finished with that store. It seemed almost as if his boss was determined to set the record for most stores visited in one day, and by the time they were finished, his fingers had gone numb. He could only conclude they had fallen off.

He finally breathed a sigh of relief, though, when he set the bags down in his boss's private room near the top of the office tower, a room dedicated to her things. Already there were piles of stuff there from previous trips out. Terasaka sighed exasperatedly as he prepared himself for another task, weaving through halls back to her office. Sometimes, he could hardly believe he had a boss like her. But, he supposed, she had an eye for business. There was a reason she was high up on the ladder at Akiyama Insurance. I guess I should be grateful for even getting the opportunity to log around her bags, Terasaka thought. This was probably the highest position a meathead like him would ever get to. He just wished it didn't hurt so much.

Flexing his fingers, which bore tiny red lines where the bags had practically cut into them earlier, he walked into his boss's office, ready to receive another task. To his surprise, however, a tall, elderly man in an expensive-looking suit stood there, talking with Terasaka's boss. Their conversation cut off abruptly as he entered, his boss smoldering angrily, the man standing up straight and striding over to Terasaka.

"Mr. Terasaka," the man said, extending a hand.

Terasaka shook it, and suddenly it dawned on him who this was: Ichirou Akiyama, head of Akiyama Insurance. Paling, Terasaka struggled to speak. What could this man want with him? "Mr. Akiyama," he at last managed, bowing.

Akiyama chuckled, as though Terasaka's discomfort amused him. "No need to be worried. You're not in trouble. There's simply been a change. You may not know this, Terasaka, but recently one of our new hires rose in the ranks drastically. Just last week he was promoted to a position just above your current boss," Akiyama inclined his head to the sullen woman at her desk, "and is in need of a competent secretary. I have interviewed your various previous bosses, and all of them have attested to your ability."

Terasaka frowned. "Sir?"

"Congratulations, Terasaka. You're being promoted."

Terasaka felt his jaw go slack. How was he to respond to that? "Promoted?"

"Well, I suppose it's not truly a promotion," Akiyama said. "But your new boss will be higher up on the chain. To put it frankly, you're being transferred. But a higher position is always a good thing." Walking around Terasaka, the elderly man motioned for him to follow. Terasaka hastily scrambled after him, and they headed down the hall together.

As they got into the elevator, Terasaka frowned. "Hold on, sir. What about my things? They're all still downstairs."

Akiyama waved a dismissive hand. "Not to worry. I'm merely introducing you two. After you are acquainted, you can grab your personal affairs."

Terasaka rubbed the back of his neck as the elevator rose. "Um…no offense, sir, but why are you of all people personally escorting me to my new boss? Isn't your time better spent doing other things?"

Akiyama breathed in sharply. "Well, you see, I have a sort of…debt, of sorts, to pay to your new boss. He asked that I do this for him, so I obliged."

Terasaka frowned. A debt? To his new boss? Just who was this person?

The elevator stopped, and Terasaka and Akiyama walked out, striding down the hall. They were in one of the highest floors of the tower; Terasaka had rarely been up here. Passing a few doors, they arrived at a one with space for a nameplate. It was empty, of course—likely someone had been kicked out to make room for this new guy, or else they'd given him this empty office to use. Doubtless he'd have Terasaka put the nameplate in soon enough.

Opening the door, Akiyama lead Terasaka inside. The office was fairly empty, housing a desk with a computer, as well as a few boxes piled in a corner. A tall man was standing by the window at the back, the glass making up the entire wall. At the sound of their entry, he turned.

And that's when Terasaka felt the blood drain from his body.

Karma Akabane grinned. "Well, well, well. Haven't seen you in a while, Terasaka. You're doing pretty well, for a muscle-brain. Already working as an underling for one of the best businessman in this entire building."

Terasaka could barely believe it. Here, after seven years of having not seen the bastard, after having been glad for having not seen the bastard, Terasaka was being made the secretary—no, the pawn—of Karma. Again. It was almost enough to make him want to quit right then and there.

Akiyama, oblivious of Terasaka's internal agony, patted him on the back. "It seems you've met before. Well, should make working together all the more smooth. Good luck, Terasaka. Good day, Mr. Akabane." And with that, the old man departed.

Karma strode over, an obnoxious, malevolent grin plastered on his lips. Terasaka scowled at him. Karma laughed. "Oh, this is too good. When I found out you were working here, I knew what I had to do. You know, you should thank me. I got you into a higher position." Walking past him, Karma patted his shoulder. "Don't look so gloomy. You and I are gonna have loads of fun." His grin was shark-like.

.

There was something comfortingly familiar about Japan, Rio reflected. After having spent three years in a completely different country, she would have thought she'd be more accustomed to it rather than the home country she'd left behind, yet somehow, everything seemed to be the same as before. The same house she'd grown up in, the same neighborhood she'd played in, the same Japan she loved. It almost made her glad for having dropped out of college.

Almost.

"I can't believe you actually dropped out!" Her father screamed. "Are you insane? Your future was at Harvard! Your life was at Harvard! And you threw it all away?"

Her mother somehow hit Rio harder than anything her father might have thrown at her. That quiet look of disappointment almost drove Rio to tears.

Her father wasn't finished yet, however. "Rio! Are you listening to me?"

She met his eyes, and sparks of deadly fury flee between their gazes. "Yes," Rio replied with all the contempt she could manage to squeeze into the single word.

"Do you realize how you've affected us?" He shouted, his voice rattling the house. "Do you realize that we poured years of our lives into scraping up the money to afford to send you to school? And to Harvard, no less! That sort of stain doesn't just wash out with an 'I'm sorry'. I expect you to pay us back in full."

Rio's eyes widened at that. He wasn't…serious, was he? There was no way she could pay that back, not anytime soon, at least. With an ordinary job, she would have to spend decades setting aside money to pay up that kind of debt.

"Well? Don't you have anything to say for yourself?" Her father fumed, while mother looked away, her expression unreadable, save for the lingering disappointment.

Rio glared daggers at him. "Yeah, I do. I don't give a fuck about that school. It's my future; I make the decision! And I decided I didn't want to go to that stupid school any longer. So you're not even getting an 'I'm sorry' out of me. I'm done with Harvard."

Her father frowned. He didn't even seem any angrier over her outburst, just confused. "Why?" He asked, bewildered. "With Harvard on your resume, you could get one of the highest paying jobs in the world. Why would you throw that away?"

Rio crossed her arms. Her voice was quieter now, she reflected, as she started speaking. "Maybe I didn't want that future. Maybe I didn't want to be stuck in a job, no matter how big the salary, if it meant I didn't get to enjoy what I do." Her father scowled, and she returned it. "You think I want to spend the rest of my life in some boring desk job, slaving away the rest of my life, working, doing something I hate? Hell no! I want to love my job! I want to enjoy each day! Not be some corporate bigwig stuck up in a building all day! No paycheck is enough to make me want that!"

Her father simply shook his head. "I see." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Then get out."

Rio blinked. "What?"

"Get out. Leave. I don't want to see you here again." Her father's eyes were ice.

Rio stood frozen for a moment. Then she threw up her arms in rage. "Fine! Fuck this place! I don't even want to live at this house if you're here!" As she stomped away from their doorstep, she shouted angrily, "I'll get a job I love, you'll see!"

The sound of her parents shutting the door behind her was distant as Rio stormed away, grumbling profanities and insults and arguments and accusations. Why couldn't they see? Why couldn't they realize how much this meant to her? Her future…that was for her to choose! Not them! Sure, they'd paid for it…but she could pay them back! She could scrape up the money, if that was what they were so concerned about. And she would do it using the money she earned from doing something she loved. Maybe she could climb cliffs. That was job, right? Or maybe she could try painting. Art wasn't her forte, but she enjoyed it, and she could always learn. Or maybe something to do with English? The language had always fascinated her. Yes, she could become an interpreter! Maybe she could look for listings online. Oh, she'd need to by a computer, though. And internet to go online in the first place. And a house.

I have no money, she remembered sullenly. All her hopes died. She'd spent most of what she had made in England buying a plane ticket back to Japan. How was she supposed to afford a nice-looking suit to go to a job interview in, much less an apartment?

She needed to find someplace to stay, first. Somewhere to crash, to get her bearings. Who else did she know nearby? Well…maybe some of her friends still lived around here. Not that she'd talked to any of them in years. Would anyone even take her in? Especially after dropping in so suddenly.

She scrolled through her contacts; her phone wasn't the one she'd had before she left, but when she'd gotten it she'd copied all her contacts. The familiar names of friends from high school shone in the dark of night as Rio walked aimlessly, keeping only half her attention on where she was going while she scrolled through her phone. Her suitcase rattled noisily as she towed it along, the culmination of everything she had owned in England.

Eventually, she stopped almost instinctively on a single name in her contacts. She breathed it softly in the darkness. "Nagisa." How long had it been since she'd seen him? Class E felt a world away, something she could never return to. But Nagisa…he always felt like the one person she connected most with, the one person she might have stayed in contact with after middle school. Could she…should she ask to stay at his place? Did he even live here anymore?

The thought of staying with him made her heart feel squishy, but finally she shook her head. There was no way she could do that. Even if the other problems weren't massive obstacles to hop over, there was still the fact that Rio…just couldn't. Seeing him again would wreak havoc on her heart. Nagisa was not an option.

But…neither were many of her other contacts. Where was she to even go? Hell—even if she did work out someplace to sleep, she might not even be able to get there tonight. Would she have to visit a homeless shelter? Had she really fallen so low?

Tears came unbidden to her eyes, but she forced them back. No. She would not cry. She had to be strong. She had to—

A shadow moved ahead of her. Instantly, with reflexes quicker than a cat, her assassin's training kicked in, and she leapt back, assuming a defensive pose instantly.

The figure in the dark stepped closer, and Rio could make him out a bit better. A tall man, he wore a dark suit. He grinned at her. "Heh. I can see your days of being an assassin haven't worn off. That's good."

"Who are you?" Rio growled, glancing around to see if there were any other assailants lurking unseen.

"A friend," he replied. "But come, there's no need to be so hostile." He stretched out a hand, as though he expected her to shake it. "Ms. Nakamura…as I understand it, your are in dire need of money, correct?" She said nothing, but her expression must have betrayed her affirmation. "Wonderful. We…may be able to help."

.

Hey, all. It's me. Fanfic number three on the way. Hope you all like it!

So wow look at me, actually writing something in less than three months! Yeah, I realized that I get easily burnt out on stuff I write for a long time. But this one I'm excited about and gives me some variety in the many perspectives, so hopefully I'll want to write each time I start a new chapter. For now, expect me to be at least more frequent in my chapter uploads than before.

As for this fanfiction…wow, it's another 'seven years later' deal. Yeah, I know, I did that last time…but it really makes for some interesting stories. And in this case, it allows me lots of room to do whatever I want, without being limited as much by the original circumstances of the series. That'll be important, considering what I have in mind for this story…

You might be asking, "What's up with all these perspective jumps? Don't tell me this whole series is going to be mini segments with eighteen characters where I can't keep track of what's going on!" Well, worry not. The tiny portions you see here are just for this chapter. For future chapters, the segments will be much longer, allowing for much more to happen. As well, I probably won't do all six of these characters every chapter, to avoid overwhelming anyone. So think of this chapter as a sort of appetizer, a taste test to start things off.

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Until next time!