a/n: so it's been six months since lexa's death, but i didn't really have any inspiration for a clexa fic (that is to say i wasn't as filled with spite as i usually am while writing for that pairing, 90% of my clexa writing is fueled by a hatred of jason rothenberg but aNYWAY) so i figured i'd post the first chapter of this. idk how long it'll be but it's definitely going to be multichapter. enjoy

The walk down the alleyway was one wrought with fear, as always, as the young woman breathed out puffs of crystalline air. Every step, every look, could mean life or death. The woman pulled her ratty jacket closer, shuddering, and she looked to the stars peeking out from above the clouds like curious children playing a game of hide-and-seek. Finally, after the usual millennia it took to get there, she approached a rusted, crooked door, nearly hanging from its hinges.

"Password?" a voice croaked from the other side. The woman flinched - they still hadn't fixed the intercom, despite everyone's complaints, and every breath in the direction of the damn thing sounded like the very world was tumbling around their ears.

"Whiplash," she replied easily. The door creaked open, and the woman scurried inside. "Y'know, we've had the same password for years now. I, uh, think that someone might get suspicious if we keep it up for much longer."

"Ah, well, what'd you suggest instead, Oumae?" the same person from the intercom sighed - Asuka Tanaka, lounging in a corner with an old hat clutched in her hands.

"W-well, what about . . . uh . . ." The woman looked to her bag. "Tuba-kun?"

"The instrument thing?" Yuuko Yoshikawa yelled from the other side of the room.

"Yeah. That."

"Genius!" Asuka yelled, flinging the hat aside. "Nobody will ever suspect it! You're promoted, Oumae!"

"We don't have an actual hierarchy here," Yuuko muttered. Asuka silenced her with a glare.

"I suppose you're right about that. It's just you, me, Kaori, Oumae, and . . . oh, speak of the devil! Taki, you've arrived just on time!" An older man, suit always perfectly pressed despite the dinginess of the room, stepped through the door with none of the precaution the others needed to take, and the woman's skin crawled.

"Yes," Taki simply replied. He rarely talked, instead orchestrating things from the background, and the woman hated it with every fiber of her being. "Kumiko? You've left your bag on the floor. Pick it up." Kumiko muttered a curse and picked up the bag, letting it rest on her lap as she protectively covered it with her hands. "Now, I'm sure you're all aware of the . . . risks, that this next job will take." There was a menacing glow in Asuka's eyes as she leaned against the rickety table, face set alight by the single bulb dangling precariously from the ceiling. Kumiko often wondered when - when, not if, because it certainly would - it would fall.

"Of course I'm aware, Taki! What kind of supervillain would I be if I wasn't?"

"You throw that word around quite a bit, Asuka," Kaori murmured. "Are you sure it's one to be used so lightly? After all, it's hardly something we can call ourselves." Asuka adjusted her glasses.

"Would you prefer hero, then? Because they're two sides of the same coin, you know. If we're being entirely honest, I don't consider us to be supervillains at all! It just sounds more badass than superhero. What do you think of when you hear superhero, Oumae?" Kumiko blinked. She wasn't used to being included in the meetings - if any of them were actually paid, she would have been considered an unpaid intern, and her presence was mostly there for security. Nobody would kidnap an innocent shop worker.

"Uh, m-maybe Captain America or s-something?" Asuka let out a triumphant snort, and the air turned a deep greenish-purple for a moment before returning to normal.

"See? Captain America is boring. Could Captain America do this?" She picked up a lizard skittering across the cement floor and held it until it lay limp in her palm. Yuuko flicked her ribbon in discomfort.

"You don't have to show it off every chance you get," she huffed. "Ooh, I can poison things! I'm super great! Sometimes I hum songs that came out over a decade ago to be cool! Why don't you be the leader, if you're so amazing?" Asuka's expression darkened.

"I used to be the vice president," she muttered. "I used to, until Haruka decided that she couldn't do this anymore, and I let her go."

"Do you regret it?" Kaori murmured softly. Kumiko had heard this exchange a hundred times before, it seemed almost scripted, now. Both women knew just what to say, just what notes to hit, until everything returned to normal. The other three would just sit back and let it happen as the lizard fell to the floor.

"I've said it before, Kaori, I couldn't give less of a damn about her. That goes for all of you, too." This, Kumiko knew, was the part where they were all meant to be threatened, to know that this small gathering could disband at any moment like a thread that finally snapped after years and years of being pulled apart. It was too common of an occurrence nowadays for anyone to actually hear the weight behind her words, but Kumiko still felt her hands sweat and tremble. Asuka would sell them all out for a fair price, she knew that, and it had taken her far too long to accept that. Still, she wanted to protect her. She wanted to protect all of them, even if she was as good as dead in the eyes of Taki. It was through sheer luck and connections that Kumiko had remained a trusted part of the small group.

"So you say, Asuka, so you've always said," Kaori tucked a lock of hair behind her ear as she relaxed further back into her chair. "I'm not one to call you a liar, of course, but deep down I know that you must care."

"I care about you," Yuuko whispered reverently. Kaori didn't hear her. Kumiko sometimes wanted to yell the obvious truth at both of them - Asuka didn't care, would never care, and Kaori would never know that. It was frustrating enough to make Kumiko consider leaving altogether.

"We're getting off the subject," Asuka sighed, drumming her fingers on the table. Taki breathed a sigh of relief, having remained silent throughout the entire exchange. "The point, as you were saying, Taki, is . . ."

"This is not an easy job," the man said, wearing his usual placid smile. "We are, as you know, planning to steal several priceless instruments for-"

"Question?" Yuuko piped up.

"Yes?"

"By instruments, do you mean actual instruments, or, like, instruments of murder?" Taki let out a chuckle.

"Now, why would we do that? Didn't you hear Tanaka's talk of heroes and villains? We are not killers. We are not bad people. We are, to be very simple about it, the most mysterious Robin Hood this city has known. In this day and age, it's simply impossible to remain out in the open without the police, or someone else, finding us. That is why we don't say anything. That is why we do all of this."

That's why we do this, Kumiko thought. You hide in the shadows while a group of twenty-something nobodies steal moderately priced art from local museums and send the money to people we'll never meet.

"So . . . real instruments, then?"

"Yes." Asuka loudly clapped, sending a puff of navy-green smoke into the air.

"Wonderful, wonderful! Now, I'm not sure if this is just me, but all that talk of morality has me simply longing for a drink! Anyone else? C'mon, it's pathetic to head to the Euph alone! Oumae? You're an adult, right?"

"Isn't the Euph an antiques shop?" Yuuko interjected. "I mean, if you want to go and get drunk at an antiques shop, I'm not stopping you, but . . ."

"It's the street," Asuka sighed, exasperated. "Everyone's just too lazy to put up a sign, so everything down there is called the Euph. I've always thought it ridiculous, but you know. Isn't that such a wonderful metaphor for life?"

"We go tomorrow night," Taki said, ignoring Asuka's chatter. "Kaori, stay behind here at the usual meeting time. All of the others, you head to the instrument exhibition with your alibis at the ready. We'll enter once the place has closed."

"Uh, w-well, actually, I sorta have something I need to, uh, do tomorrow, it's really important and I c-can't miss it, not for anything, I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can do." Kumiko hated the way her words shook, how they echoed around the room, mocking her.

"And what is this event?" Taki inquired. Kumiko gulped.

"It's, uh, my cousin's wedding!" she lied. "I'm her closest bridesmaid, it'd b-break her heart if I wasn't there!" Taki narrowed his eyes.

"It'll only take a day, correct?" Kumiko nodded with such vigor that she felt as if her head might fall off. "Very well. Return the day after next. This meeting is dismissed." Taki picked up his suitcase and trotted out the door. Yuuko quickly followed. Asuka raised an eyebrow when Kumiko hesitated.

"Oumae. It's time to head out. Some of you actually have houses, you know. Wouldn't it be such a shame if one more of our merry little band of misfits was left without a home to sleep in? Ah, it'd be such a tragedy!"

"Asuka, you don't need to pretend that we don't have a place to live," Kaori murmured softly. "We have the apartment, I think it's enough." Kumiko had gleaned, from vague context clues, that Asuka and Kaori shared a living space directly above the room she was currently standing in, but she had never once seen an actual flight of stairs that led to the higher levels, nor had she seen the supposed home itself. Yet, it would have been dangerous to ask, so she didn't, and left the room soon afterwards with her bag held to her chest. A small, shadowy figure darted by as she walked down the cracked pathway, but it left so quickly that Kumiko dismissed it as a figment of her imagination.

Aoi was, as usual, holed up in her office when Kumiko found her way back to the floor-level apartment, dropping her things on the ground with a sigh of relief. The lights had all been turned off, save for the one glowing in the closed-off corner, and she didn't even hesitate before falling onto her bed. There were times when Kumiko wished that she didn't live in a world so filled with mystery and intrigue, when she wasn't caught between things she couldn't care less about, and her old friend becoming a hermit in all but name didn't help much, either. Still, she forced herself into a space of mind that wasn't quite as cluttered with such thoughts, and soon she found herself falling fast asleep.

There wasn't much of a point in thinking back over whatever her dreams had been, Kumiko thought as she wearily poured herself a bowl of cereal. Her day job, surreal and borderline magical as it was, demanded complete attention. Aoi had left a note on the table.

Kumiko-

My apologies, but something came up with the paper and I need to head out into the field to do some research, I've attached a few pages of the fourth draft should you wonder what it is that I'm doing. I left some instant noodles in the fridge.

-Aoi

Kumiko set down the neatly written note with a sigh, slinging her bag over her shoulder as she left it behind. She couldn't remember for the life of her when the last time she had actually had a face-to-face conversation with Aoi, but she was fairly certain that it had been at least several months. Kumiko hesitated over the papers clipped to the note, wondering if it would be wise to take them, but ultimately decided against it. Risks, she had often found, weren't worth much.

The light jingling of windchimes alerted the other employees to Kumiko's entrance as she stepped into the warm haven of the antiques shop, old televisions haphazardly stacked atop each other while boxes of unsorted files threatened to take over the store.

"Hey, Kumiko!" Natsuki greeted her with a lopsided grin, holding up a grandfather clock with one hand while pulling off her flannel jacket with the other. "Could ya help me out here? The boss isn't gonna be happy if we - oof - break something expensive like this." Kumiko dropped her bag and hurried to Natsuki's side, propping up the grandfather clock until it stood safely along the edge of the store. "It's so hot in here, geez. Couldn't they afford to turn down the heating?" She had a point. While the air outside was crisp and cold, the interior of the shop felt akin to an oven. Kumiko hung her sweater on an intricately carved coat hanger that had probably belonged to someone with more money than the entire population of the block before she was born.

"I'll tell Mizore and Nozomi to leave the door open," she said, slipping behind the counter.

"Yeah, well, knowing those two, they'll probably leave the thing open just because they were too busy snogging or something." Kumiko snorted.

"Snogging?"

"It was in the crossword the other day. Informal, British, a word for kissing or caressing amorously. Figured that it worked well enough for them."

"It's kinda nice, though."

"What, a pair of nerds making out all the time?" Natsuki twirled a vintage thimble around in her fingers.

"Yeah. I don't know, I g-guess it just sorta gives me a little bit of hope." It was Natsuki's turn to snort.

"You're a hopeless romantic, ya know that?"

"How could I forget?" Kumiko dramatically held a tattered novel to her forehead, her worries forgotten for the moment.

"Alright, how about this- the two of us head to the Euph - the bar, not this antiques shop - and try to see if there're any cute girls? It might be fun." Kumiko was about to say yes when she remembered the stack of papers back at the apartment, the hasty lies about a cousin's wedding.

"I'm s-sorry, but I can't." Natsuki's expression drooped.

"Why not?"

"Well, uh-"

"Sorry we're late!" Nozomi called. Kumiko had never believed in the saying saved by the bell until this very moment, but now she was ready to hold it close to her heart and whisper sweet nothings to it, for how grateful she was towards the pair that made their way through the shop.

"Keep the door open, will ya?" Natsuki yelled from the other side of the room, wrangling the grandfather clock again. "It's practically suffocating in here!"

"Is it my turn to stand at the desk today?" Mizore inquired. Natsuki shook her head.

"Nope, that'd be good old Kumiko here. You two are on record duty." Nozomi nodded dutifully.

"Yes, ma'am!" The duo walked down to the basement as Kumiko watched the door for any incoming customers.

"Y'know, we won't go out of business for a while," Natsuki said, leaning against the counter with a bracelet in her hands. "People love old crap like this. It just takes 'em a little while to get here."

"Are you sure?"

"I don't know if you've noticed, Kumiko, but I'm not really an optimistic person. At all. If I think that this place'll be fine, then it probably will be. Now, I need to check on those two and make sure that they aren't playing a seductive song in the basement or something." Kumiko nodded as Natsuki headed down the stairs, and Kumiko was left alone.

Customers came and went, as they often did, sometimes trying on a hat or looking at a painting only to set it down and leave without another word. Business was slow, but Kumiko didn't mind it. There was a certain quality to the antiques shop that made it seem almost unreal, like she had unknowingly stepped into another dimension, and she relished that feeling. It was nice, to feel the magic in a place so mundane when her bitter reality was grounded in such fantastical things. Still, there was never enough time spent in her day job, and Kumiko soon ducked out of the antiques shop as the pink sky and the setting sun beckoned.

Kumiko would be lying if she said that she had never considered buying a bulletproof vest. Despite her position as a relatively unimportant person on both sides, an intern, an errand-runner, she was always in danger, and she hated every second of it. The antiques shop was her in-between, her safe space, and she'd punch Asuka in the face before letting anything take her away from it. Still, she was needed tonight, and so she trudged along the cobblestone road until she reached the brightly lit house at the end of the road. She knocked on the door three times before stepping back. Hazuki flung the door open, nearly sending it off of its hinges, as Kumiko stepped inside.

"Kumiko! You should've told us that you'd be late, I would've waited! As things are, though . . ." Hazuki looked down as Midori blew past her, carrying a rather large suitcase above her head. "We were just about to get going. Can't miss something as important as this, you know!" Kumiko felt as if someone had just dropped a rather large boulder into the pit of her stomach.

"W-what're you going to do?" Midori set down the suitcase and clenched her fists.

"They're about to commit an unforgivable act," she murmured.

"What is it?" Kumiko asked, knowing full well what Midori would say next.

"They're going to take the very souls of music from the masses."

"A group of criminals is going to steal some instruments," Haruka clarified, walking down the steps in her usual calm, motherly fashion. "More importantly, however, they'll be prepared for a fight."

"But so will we!" Hazuki piped up, hoisting her spear. Kumiko tried her best to pretend her stomach wasn't flipping around into knots. "This'll be the day, Kumiko. This'll be the day we bring them to justice."

"We've been tracking this specific group for quite a while, now," Haruka added. "They're a group of self-proclaimed Robin Hoods, working in the shadows and stealing whatever they can without much care for what follows in their wake."

"More importantly, one of them has a power unlike the ones we've seen before. It's horrible, the way they're stealing music like this." Midori had gone back to lifting the oversized suitcase.

"I know who they are," Kumiko sighed. "I'm a part of this team too, remember?"

"Yeah, but there're things we talk about without you!" Hazuki chirped. Midori stamped on her foot, hard.

"We've talked for long enough, now, haven't we?" Haruka interjected. "If we don't leave soon, they'll get away with it, and then we wouldn't be very good superheroes, now would we?"

"W-wait!" Everyone turned to look at Kumiko. "I, uh, h-have reasons to believe that . . . er, that is, all logic points to the fact that . . . uh, they won't be there tonight!"

"We can't risk this, Kumiko!" Midori squeaked indignantly as Hazuki clutched her foot in pain.

"Let her finish, Midori." Haruka spoke calmly, with all the gentleness of a matriarch that the group had grown to expect, and yet Midori quieted down immediately.

"W-well, what if this is just a big trap?" Kumiko felt like a mouse trapped by the tail, writhing and struggling, and she couldn't stand it. "It's almost too easy, right? They could try and, uh, kill you or something! And then there wouldn't be any heroes at all. Sometimes it's better to pick your battles, y'know?" Haruka tensed.

"Yes . . . a decoy . . . that is quite a bit like Asuka, isn't it?" Kumiko nodded vigorously.

"Y-yeah, it is!" She hoped dearly that Haruka wouldn't ask her how she knew the name so well. "Right, guys? Hazuki?"

"I'm with Kumiko on this one."

"Midori?"

"I still don't like it," the smaller girl admitted, "-but, if it means I can continue to live another day, then I guess we have to, right?"

"You're all so brave," Haruka murmured. "You're all so brave, and smart, and incredible. You're better than I was at your age, you know."

"You're only a few years older than us!" Hazuki yelped. "Don't get all old lady on us now!"

"Well, if we've reached this agreement, then Kumiko should be on her way, right?" Haruka turned back to head inside, white robes billowing in the wind. "Hazuki, Midori, it's getting cold. You two should probably get back into your rooms." Midori, still somewhat sullen over the travesty of music being stolen, and Hazuki, still hopping on one foot, went back into the house with varied mutters.

"You're not their mother, you know that, r-right?" Kumiko muttered, once Hazuki and Midori were out of earshot.

"I know. Still, I have to be something close. An older sister, maybe, or a mentor figure. They deserve that much."

"You gave them a home, right? Isn't that enough?" Haruka lightly chuckled.

"You have a good soul, Kumiko. Don't waste it." With that, she turned back inside and shut the door, and Kumiko was left in the dark with nothing but the lanterns along the pathway to guide her back home.

The lights were off, Aoi slumped over her desk with a half-full mug of coffee by her side, and despite herself, Kumiko picked up the papers and began to read the words she had seen revised so many times, in so many ways.

A Study of the Possibility of Superhuman Abilities (Introduction - page 4)

-one should note that, evidently, the powers aren't much like the ones we see in comic books. No, in fact, they're much more subtle - sources who prefer to remain anonymous talk of people with strength only slightly surpassing that of a bodybuilder, speed only slightly surpassing that of an Olympic runner, and so on and so forth. There is no flight, no laser vision or strength enough to overturn a building. Truly, it is not the powers themselves that have caused interest in certain circles - it is their source. Where did they come from? What is their purpose? Why do the people who possess them remain so stubbornly away from the limelight? To these questions, there are only the limpest traces of answers.