Author's Notes: So, this is a little story I have been working on for about a month now. I don't think its flawless, but it is sort of made in defense of the time-traveler no one ever has time for, a target for ridicule and mockery from both the smarter writers and less eloquent alike. Though I wouldn't be surprised if someone hadn't made a story like this before.
And I won't deny, a secretly jaded, angry, and constantly annoyed Mikuru just makes me laugh. And cry, poor girl. This may be my headcanon for poor Mikuru now.
Mikuru was trying desperately to study for the history exam later today. Except her Gods-damned *Anachronistic Expletive Redacted* Heads-Up Display and *Anachronistic Expletive Redacted* Censoring System would not shut up.
All she wanted to do was learn about Post- *Incorrect Modern Term Redacted*... about Post-World War 2 Reconstruction period in Japan. After they lost the war to *incorrect nation name*... to the United States, there was a huge upswell in *Future Psychology Term Redacted*- and now Mikuru was about to throw her book against the wall.
Even as she considered the option, her neural implant warned her that violent action may incidentally alter the timeline and should be avoided. Her arms even tingled at the thought, as her mental controls prevented her from acting on her violent urges. Exuding a soft sigh, she closed the history book, riddled with *Anachronistic Expletive Redacted* triggers to her mental conditioning.
She was sitting in class before school started that morning, and she was already expecting to spend most of the History Exam fighting her mental conditioning, and she was already dealing with a weary psuedo-headache.
She saw that one of her classmates, Tsukimura, was about to ask if she was okay. Mikuru prepared herself for the mental onslaught expected from Mikuru's reserves simply to maintain a conversation, but she was saved by the person who just walked into the room, laughing heartily.
"Mikuru? You got here already? Aws man, you didn't need to megas book it like that. I was just joking!"
Mikuru turned her head to look at Tsuruya, her friend in this *Era Name Redacted* time-plane. Mikuru was confused. She hadn't seen Tsuruya yet today, as Mikuru usually came very early to school, just in case she had any *Organization Name Redacted* duties.
Mikuru instead offered a confused, *Slang Term Redacted* "... Oh, good morning. I…" Mikuru vaguely considered Tsuruya's words, realizing it was going to be a long day, if what Tsuruya's *Slang Term Redacted* vague reference meant anything, "I just had some" *Anachronist Expletives Redacted* "studying to do so…".
Tsuruya laughed in her big way, used to Mikuru's oddities, but she looked sympathetic, "History exam today huh? Sorrys Mikuru, I know you hate them." The dark-haired Heiress and eventual *Anachronistic History Redacted* plopped down at her seat next to Mikuru's, slouching against the table, "I feel ya. I have got to work more on my Chemistry grade or my parents will turn me out of a home."
Mikuru restrained her historical laughter at this. This was mostly because her Heads-Up Display warned her that sarcastic reactions based on pre-knowledge were not permitted. These warnings also caused her ribs to tighten against her will to prevent her from laughing.
Biting her lip, but wanting to bang her head against the desk- also not permitted by her neurological implants- she offered instead a kind platitude, "Um, I am sure they wouldn't do that…"
Tsuruya grinned at her, as if Mikuru had said something cute. *Anachronistic Expletive Removed*, she was so damn neutered by these censors. She'd be hard pressed to get out a 'gosh-golly' with the settings this high. Oh, how about that, she could *Anachronistic Expletive Removed* damn well say 'golly-gosh' in her head. She didn't even bother trying it in real life.
The heiress spoke again, "Yeah, probablys, but I don't wanna push it, you knows?"
Mikuru nodded, though she didn't really have anything to say. After a year of this crap, what did Mikuru expect? She'd barely been able to speak the first few weeks, and only slowly got better at working around her mental blocks just to be social enough to fit into society. How was that supposed to be conducive to doing her job here?
Mikuru went back to studying her book, intently ignoring the displayed contentions and warnings that her neural transmitter tried to brighten her day with. The technology was amazing, astounding and utterly, completely frustrating to deal with, because she wasn't given administrative rights to disable features.
Sure, that meant she could pass math easily, the answers solved before she could put pen to paper, but she would rather do the damn calculus than have every single date in her history book pop up with additional information that she would never once be fucking *Anachronistic Expletive Here* tested on in this time-plane.
Mikuru sighed as classes started, closing her history book and instead focusing on English, her first class of the day.
Five minutes before English class ended, she got a new priority message from her superiors. It was an order, one she absolutely must follow, according to the message. Mikuru sighed again and put her head on the desk long enough to let the class bell ring.
She had all but abandoned her attempts to study for the history exam anyway at this point. She never got headaches, due to the automatic hormone and neurotransmitter regulator installed in her spine, but there were days she wished she could get them, just for a physiological response to her frustration.
The message told her to go to her shoe locker and retrieve the object within. It was going to be one of Those days, she could tell. She went to her locker and opened it, trying to at least be a little surreptitious.
Inside the locker was a note, which appeared to be sealed with a heart sticker. Confused, Mikuru opened the note, which said:
"Dear Mikuru,
I know you are beyond my grasp, but I think you are very cute. I'd like to confess my feelings to you before we both graduate. If you could, would you meet me after classes at-"
Mikuru very carefully closed the note before reading anymore. This didn't stop the three alerts from popping up in her vision warning her about violating fraternization laws, about rules against creating too many friends, and about not completing her mission.
She folded the note small enough to hide in one hand so she could later throw it away. It was a cute message, written in almost certainly a woman's handwriting. Mikuru hated disappointing people, so it was her curse to get at least two of these *Anachronistic Expletive Removed* love-letters a week, destined for the rubbish bin. Admittedly, they were usually notes from men, but it wasn't something she kept count of. Not that this message couldn't be from a man either. Mikuru wiped away the alerts filling her vision with a swipe of her mental stylus and looked into her shoebox for anything else.
Beside her left shoe, there was a small silver pen. High quality steel, ball-point, and *Future Terminology Redacted* design, it wasn't anything special according to her scanners. Sure, it was a nice pen, but it wasn't something that couldn't be purchased from any upscale arts and crafts store, even on this time plane.
Knowing that the pen wasn't there before, and it certainly wasn't hers, Mikuru grabbed it. Her mission statement updated, telling her to retain the object until further orders.
Mikuru stifled another sigh. She'd turn into Kyon before she knew it if she kept up her habit of decrying every downturn.
Mikuru went back to class, having disposed of the love letter discretely in an almost empty trashcan.
She kept the pen in her spare hand as she took down notes on the upcoming literature exam, but her heart wasn't into it today. Normally, she liked this topic well enough, but she was worried about history.
Mostly though, she was waiting for *Future Slang Phrase Redacted* and the shit to hit the fan. She got a mission, which mean she no doubt was going to have to deal with more time traveling today.
Mikuru would never admit it to anyone, but she hated time traveling. It was the worst part of her job, and it was technically the only real part of her job. Unfortunately, predestination made no exceptions for people who didn't actually want to participate. It would take someone like Haruhi to be able to defy the fates directly. Mikuru had the defiance excised from her soul until she was done with this job by the damnable censors and conditioning. At least she graduated this year. After that, she'd be done time traveling forever.
Mikuru felt, as the last bell before lunch rang, she might have been a little unfair in her thoughts. She had many good memories from this time-plane, and the Brigade was full of nice enough *Anachronistic Slang Redacted*.
Yuki was, of course, the forebearer of the *Future Historical Note Redacted*, which was terrifying, but she was mostly just quiet and kind right now. Koizumi was full of questions she couldn't answer, but she sort of understood that mindset, as she'd feel the same to him if she hadn't read his book when she was in *Anachronistic Term Redacted* school. Haruhi was kind of nerve wracking to be around in the same way that it would be strange for someone from this era to spend time hanging around the person who invented fire, especially if the inventor of fire was also a huge pervert. Kyon was eminently easy to deal with, unquestioning, friendly, and, most importantly, easy to deal with. Which was convenient since so many of her missions required his-
"Hey Kyon! Hows you?!"
Mikuru had been eating her boxed lunch quietly with Tsuruya, who'd been talking about something to do with her family business that Mikuru hadn't been paying attention to. When Tsuruya suddenly cut off her speech to shout at the front of the room, Mikuru flinched in surprise. The time traveler looked to the front door of the class and, indeed, Kyon was standing there, looking a bit embarrassed.
Mikuru stood, realizing there'd be no reason for him to be here unless she was needed, but Kyon was answering first, "Good. You?" He wasn't shouting so much, but the room, with a bunch of the other students eating and studying for the test next period, had gotten quiet.
Tsuruya laughed, and shook her head. "Test next period, we're screwed." Still speaking loudly, the rest of the class did generally chuckle at her usual antics. "Whatcha need?"
Kyon looked a little embarrassed still to have interrupted. "Ah, sorry, I need to speak to Mikuru really quick, if I can."
Mikuru frowned but nodded, "Sure." She looked at Tsuruya and offered an apologetic, "Sorry, I will be right back." Mikuru wasn't exactly pleased to be breaking from lunch, but she knew this sort of thing was just to be expected with the job. And its not like Kyon wanted to be a hassle. He was almost as unwilling a participant as she was.
Mikuru stepped out of the classroom to join Kyon. There were a few other people walking through the halls but he didn't seem too concerned. Her automatic submissiveness, induced by programmed passivity and meek impressions, turned her more casual 'what's up?' into, "How can I help you?"
*Anachronistic Expletive Removed*, Mikuru couldn't even be casual around other people, how the hell was she supposed to 'fit in' with these ancient peasants of a bygone era? She might as well be mute, for all the impact she could make on a room.
It just pissed her off is all, that she came off as a mere nothing, a weakling that had to be dealt with. Mikuru mentally complained, not for the first time, that this must have been what it was like to deal with sexism in a world that still clung to gender roles. She'd blame her employers if they weren't just trying to make sure she didn't break the future by being too aggressive. Causality had to be sustained, supposedly.
He smiled at her, charmed by her programmed habits,"Here, I was given this by you this morning."
Mikuru was puzzled, and it probably showed on her face as she looked at his hand. He was offering a pen. A particular pen she had left in her desk, but identical all the same. Why did he have the same pen that she already had? Oh, of course.
Programmed-Mikuru opened her mouth in an understanding surprise, "Oh! This must be-"
Kyon nodded, "Yeah, I think this is from Michiru, if you know what I mean."
Mikuru did. His code name for her future self, when she contacted him with stupid tasks like this. "Oh okay. Thanks Kyon." She paused before taking the pen, "What did I tell you this morning?"
Kyon shrugged, "Um, just that you needed me to hold onto this pen for you until lunch, and you asked if I could bring it to you then."
Mikuru nodded eagerly, though she mostly just wanted to bang her head against the wall, if it wasn't against her programming. "Okay, thanks Kyon. I appreciate it." She took the pen and smiled at him, in what was no doubt some sort of endearing manner. "See you after class."
He nodded and said, "Yeah. And good luck on your test."
Mikuru nodded, though her mind was on anything but a silly *Incorrect Future Term Redacted* history test that wouldn't matter but that she was supposed to do well enough on to not stand out. "Thanks!"
Mikuru went back into her classroom, sat down and placed the second pen next to its identical twin. She was just about to start eating again when she got another mission statement. This one, flashing red in the center of her vision, told her to take the object previously obtained and find somewhere isolated. Mikuru restrained a sigh as she put her chopsticks down and grabbed both of the pens and gave her excuses to Tsuruya, "Sorry. I just realized, I need to, ah," Mikuru paused, trying to find the modern word for it, but Tsuruya cut her off.
Laughing, the energetic heiress said, "You don't need to make excuses for me. Go to the bathroom."
Mikuru nodded, getting up and walking back out of the room. She decided to head to one of the further girl's bathrooms in the old building, fortunately just across the way from her class.
Because the old building was generally where clubs were held, it was pretty empty when classes were ongoing. She found a bathroom and took up a stall, checking the time on her watch. She pinged her mission statement, both pens clutched in her right hand. It asked her to activate her pre-programmed Time-Plane Destruction Device. She nodded, if only to herself, and opened her neural interface's menu and activated the time travel button, as she like to call it to herself, using the modern vernacular.
It might have been a little insulting to just call it 'the time travel button', given all the physics and realities it could break and remake, but she liked to think that if she told this joke to Kyon, if she had the permissions, he might laugh at the absurdity too.
The walls melted like wax, and she felt the universe drop from beneath her. An endless void loomed gaping before her, all possibility and nothing actualized. If something went amiss, she'd never exist. Nothingness would be her all, and she might very well be responsible with the un-making of reality as a whole.
Absent of everything, reality returned, and with it, a resounding crash of sensation. Or so Mikuru liked to imagine. Mikuru sometimes felt she had to dramatize some of what she did. Else even she wouldn't deny she was no better than a *Undeveloped Technology Redacted* following orders.
Mikuru took a moment to mentally fume at her neural censor. *Anachronistic Expletive Redacted*, people in this time knew what robots were! She should be able to use the term *Undeveloped Technology Redacted* without breaking time travel rules.
Unwilling to listen to reason, her censor remained on. Mikuru grumbled to herself, in her own head of course, as she read her next mission while checking the clock. She was still in a bathroom, but a different, judging by the different light color and newer looking tile.
The watch said it wasn't but a few hours earlier, the same day, in the morning, about ten minutes before class. Her GPS told her she was inside the main building, first floor, where most people dropped off their shoes for class.
She sighed. Her mission statement told her to give the mission object to Kyon and instruct him to return it to her future self at lunch.
What the hell was the point of that? She had two pens! One of them she got from her shoe locker, presumably the one she needed to give to Kyon. Why did she need to give this one to Kyon at all, if he gives it back?
Mikuru could offer stupid, inane answers, of course. Maybe the pen inspires Haruhi, or someone else in his class, with ideas when they see it. Maybe Kyon uses it to write down some miraculous equation to the universe. Maybe it was a magic pen. Gods-damned *Anachronistic Expletive Redacted* time-travel.
Mikuru put one of the pens in her right and kept the other in her left. She left the bathroom, looking around for Kyon.
Not a few seconds later, she was attacked.
"Heyas, Mikuru! You running late todays? You usually are already in class by nows!" Tsuruya, her excitable friend, had latched onto her before Mikuru could even see her. Mikuru let out an unexpected squeak of surprise. That, she'd admit, was all her. She actually had been surprised, though she shouldn't have been.
"Hahaha, sorry Mikuru. Didn't mean to surprise yas." She unglued herself from Mikuru.
Smiling faintly but somewhat annoyed on the inside, she shook her head amiably, "Oh no… its okay." Mikuru would normally be a little jumpy about meeting up with someone she knew during a mission, but Tsuruya had already said that she saw Mikuru before class, so this was the usual predestination stuff.
Tsuruya smiled at her, warmly, as a friend might, and asked, "So how was your evening? Anythings exciting happen?"
Mikuru shook her head, "Not really…" Mikuru did her work, like she always did, creating records of everything that happened that day, even though her neural link automatically recorded everything she saw or heard during the day, then filed reports and tried to sleep for a few hours. She was supposed to match her local rhythm to the locals, but hells did these people sleep for a long time. When do they discover how to bio-hack human *Future Science Terminology Redacted*? Gods, she prayed her residency ended before then. And how the hell had they accidentally forgotten to mentally censor bio-hack?
Tsuruya laughed, "Haha, well, I had to do more family stuffs, so tiring."
Mikuru nodded, "Oh? You will have to tell me about it sometime…" She glanced towards the lockers, "... But I need to talk to Kyon this morning… Do you, um…"
"Ooooh?" Tsuruya waggled her eyebrows and Mikuru had to suppress a shudder. Mikuru was no prude, but if Tsuruya even knew how much older Mikuru was compared to Kyon, then- but Tsuruya laughed again, "Wahaha, just messing with you Mikuru. You are hilarious. Anyways, I will tell you about my family later. But-" and she leaned close at this point sounding half serious, "I heard our homeroom teacher was going to assign homework to the last person to make it into class, so don't take too long, alrights?"
Mikuru looked at her doubtfully, given that she already went through the first hour of classes, and knew this wasn't true. This must have been one of Tsuruya's jokes, and while Mikuru desperately wanted to display that she was well aware it was just so, her concerned face refused to turn into a smile, and the sarcasm on her mind turned to timidity, "Oh… Okay…"
Tsuruya laughed again, her loud, room filling laugh, mostly at Mikuru's expense, though mostly harmlessly. Mikuru wanted to grind her teeth, but the programming implanted in her *Future Technology Term Redacted* wouldn't let her break character.
Resigning herself, she instead walked over to wait by Kyon's shoe locker.
She was well timed. Perhaps, Mikuru waxed ironically and silently to herself, her arrival could be considered perfectly timed. Kyon was at his locker, halfway through removing his second shoe.
Mikuru walked up to him, and speaking with a mild voice that was barely her own, said, "Um, Kyon?"
Kyon, who'd been focused on his task, looked up and saw her face, smiling pleasantly if surprised, "Miss Asahina, I wasn't expecting you here."
Mikuru wanted to under what circumstances did he ever expect her, except when in the clubroom, but she held her tongue. "Ah, yeah. I was… I was wondering if you might be willing to do something for me?"
He smiled again as he put on the slippers the school required everyone to wear. "Sure, anything at all."
Mikuru smiled back shyly, though she wished she could roll her eyes. His unquestioning loyalty was really easy to deal with some days, like this one, she just wanted to break character and whack him upside the head for being so unquestionably faithful. Not to mention she was more than a little envious of his freedom of thought and action. Still, it suited her purpose now, which was why they programmed her to do this job this way.
She offered the pen in her right hand to him, asking, "Would you mind holding on to this until lunch? I need it back at that time. Its ah, related to classified information."
Growling mentally, she wanted to complain that she couldn't even use simple phrases around Kyon, and he knew exactly what she was talking about!
He raised his eyebrows and nodded, taking the pen gingerly, "Is it anything special?"
Mikuru nodded speaking in a hushed tone, "Not as far as I know. I was just… um... told it had to be this way."
Not that Mikuru ever knew why. Sure sure, causalty needed to be maintained, but it wasn't like she could actually ruin it with her meager permissions. And she was no *Future Science Terminology Redacted* so she didn't know the math behind it all.
Kyon nodded, before putting the pen in his pocket, "Alright, will do. Classes going okay?"
Mikuru nodded and began to walk with him up the stairs until she realized that she couldn't go back to class. She was already in class. Sighing in her head, she instead programmed-squeaked in real life, saying, "Oh, I- um… forgot something. See you later, Kyon! Thanks!"
Mikuru walked away quickly, going back to the same bathroom and the same stall she originally came from.
Expecting another time-travel pass back to the future, Mikuru waited. And waited. And waited. When the bell rang for classes to start, Mikuru was more than a little miffed.
Those Gods-damned, *Anachronistic Expletive Removed*,*Anachronistic Expletive Removed*, fucking asses! They were going to make her wait around until lunch, again! Mikuru was going to have to just fucking putz around until past-Mikuru traveled back to this bathroom. She hungry too, damnit!
Mikuru stomped as hard as her programming would let her, which wasn't very hard, out of the bathroom and towards the clubroom, the only safe place for her to hide while waiting for classes to start. She didn't even have her *Anachronistic Expletive Removed* history book to study while she waited to get ready for the test.
The pen she still had, she wasn't sure if it was the pen she got from her locker or if it was the pen she got from Kyon, was held in her grip tightly as she tried to surreptitiously make her way to the clubroom, which should be empty right now, as Nagato would be in her first hour class.
No one called her out or questioned her, as she made it to the club room safely.
Once there, Mikuru looked around, the door closed behind her.
The room was empty. Mikuru debated closing the window curtains, but she didn't know if Haruhi would see them closed and get suspicious. Mikuru debated making tea, but she worried that she might get spotted through the window. Mikuru considered throwing a chair through the window but her mental sensors almost instantly got onto her for such blasphemous thoughts.
She sighed and stepped to to the left, away from those stupid outfits that Haruhi liked to put her in. Mikuru wasn't so much opposed to the outfits as she was utterly repulsed how bizarre it was to have someone as young as Haruhi so utterly fascinated and flagrantly interested in her, sexually, even if it was more of an aesthetic thing rather than a romantic interest. Mikuru was so much older than Haruhi, but the thought of a sixteen year old being so fascinated with Mikuru's body was really bizarre and off-putting.
Of course, they hadn't developed *Future Terminology Redacted* or *Future Terminology Redacted* or *Future Terminology Redacted*, yet, so it seemed rather natural for the locals, but it still made her skin crawl, or it would, if she weren't programmed to be helpless and spineless and weak when Haruhi tried to force her to do anything.
If anything, she wore the outfits just to keep Haruhi sated, so she wouldn't try to undress the time-traveler more often. It worked, most of the time.
Mikuru, left of the door and next to the bookshelves, leaned against the wall and sunk down to the ground, sitting on the tile. It took a conscious effort not to sigh. Trying not to be noticed for the next four hours while her stomach rumbled would not be pleasant.
Bored, Mikuru picked a book off the nearest shelf and began to page through it idly. The book seemed to be following the adventures of some child soldier trying to fit into the life of everyday Japanese high school while protecting one of his classmates. Her heads up display kept trying to look up terms and phrases in her *Era Name Redacted* time-plane dictionary, but she ignored it with only some avail.
Mikuru wasn't too terribly interested in the story anyway. Books or even most modern entertainment were incredibly boring. The effort it took to read line after line after line, followed by turning a page was just slow going. When the hell would *Future Terminology Redacted* be invented?
Still, eventually the class bell rang, and Nagato appeared again in the clubroom, walking slowly and sparing a glance at Mikuru, not surprised or concerned at her presence. Mikuru nodded to the alien, not feeling up to explain herself, and her nervous programming causing her face to worry. Mikuru knew the alien wouldn't give a *Anachronistic Expletive Removed* about why Mikuru was in the room, so she didn't bother to explain.
Nagato left again shortly after, in order to make it back to class. Mikuru sighed then, and picked up the next novel in the series, having finished the first one in short order.
That's how the morning passed (again) for Mikuru, with Nagato coming and going, until lunch finally started. She stood up, brushing her skirt off carefully, and placing the book back where she found it. Mindful of when she traveled back in time, Mikuru waited patiently for one more minute after her time travel event earlier, before walking out of the clubroom and heading to her lunch with single minded determination, intent on finishing it before the bell rang again.
Mikuru made it back to her classroom nodding with a kind smile she wasn't really in the mood for towards Tsuruya.
It had been a long day, literally, and she was only half over with it. She put the silver pen back in her desk and resumed eating, with a modicum of pronounced vigor, as if she hadn't eaten breakfast.
The history test came and went. Mikuru wondered if it was possible to curse and rage enough to break the mental censors on her neural implant. If so, she'd *Anachronistic Expletive Removed* well try to be the first person to do it.
The rest of classes continued uninterrupted, and Mikuru hauled herself and the pen to the clubroom. She beat Haruhi there, but went ahead and began changing. She really didn't have the energy to deal with handsy Haruhi today.
She did like making the tea for the club. It was easy and timely and didn't trigger any of her conditioning while she made it and her heads up display was mostly quiet and she could set timers in her head without fail. She supposed it was also nice that the others enjoyed her tea as well, but it wasn't being made for them, except when she was supposed to act cute to hand it out.
Club ended without much preamble an hour or so later. They all headed out, leaving so that Mikuru could change back. What a hassle and a waste of time changing in the first place had been.
Kyon lingered long enough, waiting for the others to leave. He paused at the door, asking, "So did everything work out okay with the, ah, pen?"
Mikuru felt herself go nervous, hedging, "Well… I am still working on it." She glanced at her stuff, which included her clothing, bag, and the pen. Her programming forced her to look back at Kyon, puppy dog eyes and all. "But you did your part perfectly. Thanks Kyon!"
She shuddered mentally, disturbed that her job here was essentially to seduce a child, but her outward appearance was nothing but cute.
Kyon smiled back at her, "Good. Good luck with all that, then."
Mikuru nodded eagerly as he left, "Thanks!" As the door closed, she rolled her eyes. She waited another five minutes, before locking the clubroom door and began changing.
She tried to lock the door once before club started, but her programming wouldn't let her. Apparently, it would have broken character to lock the door like any other sensible person. She shook her head as she got back into her school uniform. This job sucked, but at least she could lock the door after club ended. Pen in hand, she finally unlocked the clubroom and headed home.
The train was particularly packed today, she wondered if there was some sports game going on. One man next to her was speaking agitatedly into his phone, while a woman was trying to get her two kids to behave on her other side.
The younger of the two kids, something like five years old, bumped into Mikuru hard, and the mother began apologizing. "No, no, its okay," Mikuru responded.
As this was happening, the man who was speaking into the phone tapped her on the shoulder and asked, "Do you have a pen I could borrow?"
Mikuru offered one to him and was bumped again by the child, apparently delighting in bothering Mikuru, with an impish, belligerent grin on her childish face. Mikuru waved off the mother again as the train came to a stop, and she looked to see the businessman, who'd been writing something on his palm in ink, bolt from the train.
Mikuru squawked, following the man desperately, but she could no more step off the train before seeing he was already across the street, her pen, her mission, long gone.
A sinking feeling in her stomach, she got another mission statement. She reluctantly opened it.
'Mission Complete'
The train door closed behind her.
Mikuru stared at the message, displayed right in the center of her vision, rage and bile rising. Of all the gods-damned *Anachronistic Expletive Removed* fucking pieces of *Anachronistic Expletive Removed* shit kicking assholic *Anachronistic Expletive Removed* bastard *Anachronistic Expletive Removed* *Anachronistic Expletive Removed* things she had to do, this was one of the dumbest.
And she'd gotten off the train three stops early.
And she was still starving and was really tired, having effectively added four hours to her day. And she probably bombed that history test too.
Mikuru would have punched a nearby pole, if she could have. She would have stomped away if she could. Teary eyed, from fury and not from sadness, even though that was probably what she was programmed to show, Mikuru began walking towards her small city apartment. She imagined she was stomping, but she wasn't.
Gods damnit, she hated time travel. Mikuru couldn't wait to be free in just one more year.