xxx

"Do you swear?"

The pleasant warmth of that day seeped into the room through wide open windows. Rays of sunlight danced between polished surfaces and framed the flower vases scattered all around in a refreshing glow.

"Come, come."

The playful wind came to peek at them from outside.

"Come, come," it invited them to join it in its frolicking.

The assembled ignored it resolutely. All dressed in their best suits, lined up perfectly, with expressions like those chiseled in stone, they were in their own world, a world which deemed the wind's whispers of no significance.

Hinagiku stood among those people and wondered if she swore.

"…to represent to the best of your ability the will of the people. To take the wellbeing of the country as your first priority…"

It had been easier back when she was doing these things for the student council of Hakuou. That oath had been similar. The goals had been the same, save for the scale. But it had been easier. Back then, the ones repeating those words by her side were lovable idiots.

Now she had Tsuchimikado Kenji, a newspaper giant with a knack for subtle libel, breathing down her neck from just a few steps behind her and Nakamura Yuuki, three generations of the family currently in the Diet and fingers in every pie ever made, to her left at arm's length. Hinagiku was thankful for her place in the front row and relieved she knew little about the man on her right. Now that she could least afford it, she understood why ignorance could be bliss.

However, she held no delusions about her own image. Were she not elected by popularity vote, the party would have assigned her one of the block seats, as her now-colleagues had assured her. Nobody could be blind to this, not when she had appeared out of nowhere, having gained passive voting right less than half a year earlier. Then again, the point of this game was not how much one knew, but how much one didn't know.

"Do you swear?"

The air filled with a chorus of voices reciting the practiced response. Hinagiku's lips moved on their own, producing her own contribution to the waterfall of words. Did any of them consider that question seriously?

It wasn't that hard to drown out the whispers of the wind.

xxx

Chapter 2

Lily of the Valley

xxx

Murasaki Keiichi felt out of his depth. He tried reminding himself that where he was and what he was doing were two things he had decided for himself and worked hard to achieve. Nevertheless, the pangs of uneasiness continued to trouble him.

Now was one of those times. He took the oath with pride and confidence, but even as he did so, the back of his head was filled with thoughts of the people surrounding him. Faces he knew from TV and heard stories about surrounded him in every direction. He was looking at people and seeing legends.

His own career had begun in earnest only three years ago, and he had little to no connections to speak of. He knew there were some inconvenient truths shared in closed circles only. Those uninitiated, like him, could only base their opinions on gossip and whatever the official version was, both of which were usually little more than an exercise in creativity. Keiichi couldn't shake off the feeling that when he talked to people who should be his colleagues, he captured only a mirage, while they could see right through him.

Case in point, Tsuchimikado, standing to the left and one row behind him. Not that there was no information about the man, the amount of information was overwhelming. Keiichi thought it was as close as it came to totalitarian propaganda in a free and democratic country – every piece of news seemed to glorify the man. At first, he had wanted to believe these reports – Tsuchimikado and he were members of the same party, after all. However, that desire couldn't stand the test of time. When consequent articles implied the man in question had made admirable contributions to architecture, economy, agriculture, forestry and other assorted fields of knowledge with no apparent link between them, Keiichi grew suspicious. When one Sunday issue called the politician a 'fierce defender of the country's cultural heritage', his suspicions turned into certainty. If there was one thing Keiichi couldn't be led astray about, it was his own profession. He remembered quite well how each politician justified the subsidy cut which ultimately killed his museum. For all sound reasons Tsuchimikado had provided to explain the 'sad necessity', the man didn't seem overly concerned about cultural heritage.

A person with a hundred faces, not a single one of them real; that's what Keiichi saw in a politician whose ideas were supposed to be similar to his own. Back in his days as a curator, if Tsuchimikado had been one of the exhibits in his museum, Keiichi would have labeled him 'Shapeshifter'.

If members of his own camp could trouble him so much, though, what could he say about those who actually held opposing ideals?

As the assembled politicians fell silent again, Keiichi glanced to his left. He had ended up standing right next to the youngest member of the Diet. Katsura Hinagiku, he mused, probably didn't know his face. Not that he would have recognized the enigmatic beauty if he hadn't done research on her. But there had been reasons for his interest in her in the first place.

The girl had run a fairly standard election campaign. It seemed she held enough favor with the higher-ops of her party to receive proper funding, and she did not shirk public meetings and debates. Most of her political convictions didn't stray far from her party's official stance on the issues. She had made some bold statements about the criminal justice system and the need to strengthen the country's ability to interfere with individuals and companies. Keiichi considered most of those ideas dangerous, and they weren't exactly popular with the people. Apparently, Katsura's opposition in the region had failed to take advantage of that to oust her from the competition, though.

There were few records of Katsura's previous activities. She had majored in Law and Political Science at a renowned private university, but seemingly didn't make much of a splash there. Keiichi had found mentions of her being student council president in her high school days. The high school had a reputation for only accepting upper class people in, but Keiichi was disappointed to find out that while the Katsuras might have been well-off, they were not notably so.

All of this worried him. Why? This girl, who seemed not to be much different from Keiichi himself, why was her name repeated in whispers by men who could make this country shake on a whim? Why did it enter conversations regarding economy, national security and foreign policy? Why did the elites all know her, when she didn't exist in the minds of everyone else?

No matter how hard he tried, his eyes couldn't see through the girl and to whoever was beneath that practiced calm. He wanted to know how she achieved what he couldn't, but observing her only fed his uneasiness. He couldn't help noticing that her expression at this time, certainly the most important moment in her life, was completely unconcerned. Even her eyes seemed uninterested, already gazing at something beyond the present, something greater than here and now.

Just then, when he was becoming lost in his musings, the girl turned her head to his side, unnoticed by anyone else, and gave him a dazzling smile.

For the first time in years, Keiichi couldn't find the words to label what he saw.

X

XXX

X

They left the room in a half-orderly queue. The slight disorder was all thanks to overeager journalists unwilling to let some of the more popular politicians go without getting something of a scoop. For those short few minutes, Keiichi was actually glad of his lack of notoriety.

Thankfully, a few guards were standing dutifully at the door, allowing party members entrance into the hall beyond and turning away everyone else. Keiichi bowed his head at the men in appreciation, but only got wry smiles in response. You'll get used to it, they seemed to say.

Finally, he left the crowded passage behind him and stepped into the hall. The feeling of inexplicable camaraderie with tinned sardines instantly disappeared as people spread out in all directions. The hall was vast, good enough for a dance ball. However, today the floor was littered with tables offering refreshments, and no music was planned. To tell the truth, there was no official party planned at all. Keiichi could see a few people already moving slowly towards the exit on the other side. After all, the parties themselves had each undoubtedly prepared their own celebrative events. Most would find those more important than sticking around for gossip. This was supposed to be a chance for representatives of different factions to speak on friendly terms before they split up and began making each other's life hard in the Diet. But in the end, it was nothing but an opportunity for the organizers to show off their professionalism and hospitality. And Keiichi wasn't even sure who exactly was responsible for the setup.

"Hey, Murasaki!"

Keiichi paused in his musings at the sound of someone calling him loudly and without an honorific. A quick glance confirmed it was not somebody justified in such familiarity.

"...Nakamura-san?" Keiichi wagered a guess at the man's name. They had talked briefly and exchanged business cards a fortnight earlier, as far as he could remember "It's a pleasure to meet you again."

Nakamura shook his head, either to dismiss the need for such pleasantries or to deny it was a pleasure at all, Keiichi was honestly unsure which.

"You were standing next to that wench too, weren't you?"

Keiichi visibly blanched at Nakamura's use of profanity coupled with an indiscreetly loud voice. Unfortunately for him, his surprise gave Nakamura the chance to go on.

"Tough luck, no? Katsura's filth could have infected us."

Keiichi felt his face freeze in a grimace of embarrassment. He could almost feel the looks directed at them crawling all over his flesh. His tongue was still stupefied, but his eyes did their best to make up for it, darting left and right in a panicked search for a certain girl's characteristically colored hair. Was she somewhere around, listening?

Keiichi's soul left his body when he felt a hand land on his shoulder.

"Sorry, Nakamura," the owner of the hand interrupted firmly "We're meeting up with our friends in five minutes. You'll have to find some other time to talk" the man turned away from Nakamura and faced Keiichi "Isn't that right?"

"Right."

Keiichi was the one most surprised with his own immediate answer. Whether it was simple survival instinct or some deeper message he had read from the firm grip of the hand now dragging him away, he had jumped at the chance to get as far away from the uncomfortable conversation as possible.

But that unexpected decision was a small thing, all things considered. What Keiichi really wanted to know was who his savior was. The man looked to be older than sixty, which would make him some twenty years Keiichi's senior, and a complete stranger.

"All of us were beginners at some point," the man spoke amiably, looking Keiichi straight in the eye "I don't want to tell you how you're supposed to do your job, so I'll just give you one piece of advice. Don't let yourself be dragged into a war for any ideals but your own. You've got a reason for making it this far, right?" he lowered his head to look at his watch "Well, I do have that meeting so I better get going. Best of luck!"

Keiichi never got to articulate a proper response. Seconds later, he saw the man's back disappear behind the exit door. In a delayed reaction, his mind registered the fact that just as he didn't recognize the gentleman, the older politician had never addressed him by his name. What was all that anyway? Keiichi felt as if he had unknowingly undergone the rite of passage of some secret society.

Struggling with his jumbled thoughts, he approached one of the refreshment tables and pretended to be deciding between two different cakes laid out on silver plates. No matter how much he turned it over in his mind, though, he couldn't make head or tails of the situation he had just been in.

"The strawberry one is delicious, I hear," a helpful voice chimed in from the side.

It barely broke through the mist of confusion in Keiichi's mind, but he still greeted it with an absent-minded nod of appreciation. And as he did, he suddenly grew alarmed. His breath left him for the second time that day. His head snapped to the side and he came face to face with Katsura Hinagiku.

Keiichi watched the girl's flower-like smile and felt as if meeting the reaper. So she had indeed overheard and misunderstood? After all he had heard about her rage, he wondered if she would gouge his guts out here and now, or invite him for a talk outside first?

"Actually, Murasaki-san, I've been waiting for a certain person… " Hinagiku began in an eerie tone "Would you mind keeping me company for a few minutes?"

Keiichi gulped soundlessly. Here and now, then.

"It seems it's our first time meeting each other," the girl continued without losing the delighted expression on her face "My name is Katsura Hinagiku. Pleased to meet you."

She bowed easily and handed him her business card, which he accepted mechanically.

"Yes, uh… Murasaki Keiichi. Pleased to meet you."

He fished out his own business card and offered it to Hinagiku. It was obviously redundant, as she had just used his name, but she wordlessly accepted and pocketed it.

"It's a nice place, isn't it?" Hinagiku asked looking around the room "The halls feel like they have stories to tell, but the atmosphere isn't quite as bad as in some very old buildings."

Keiichi had expected her to bring up his half-conversation with Nakamura as soon as they were done with introductions, but now a beacon of hope appeared in his mind – maybe she hadn't overheard them, after all, and approached him out of coincidence. He wished for it to be the case.

"The Diet Building is almost ninety years old, even if it doesn't look like it," he answered automatically "It was quite modern for its times."

At that moment Hinagiku caught his eyes and, as if by magic, her sharp gaze poured into him a feeling of unadulterated terror known best to children caught red-handed in the act of stealing cookies. Feeling he had said something wrong, Keiichi searched desperately for something he could say to fix his mistake.

"The first designs had already been prepared back in 1880, but in the end those plans had to be dropped. The design that actually saw use came from a later contest with more than a hundred different applications."

"Is that so?" Hinagiku asked, and for a moment her gaze left Keiichi and seemed to trail after one of the other guests „You seem very knowledgeable on the subject."

Keiichi breathed in and out, taking advantage of the momentary relief.

"Ah, there is no need for flattery. After all, I've been a devout historian until just recently..." in that instant, the pressure of Hinagiku's eyes was back, as strong as ever and pushing him to elaborate "I'm interested in amending some disadvantageous regulations concerning national heritage. One of the things that made me aim for a seat in the Diet was my museum being closed down..."

What was with the absurd strength behind that girl's gaze? She seemed to swing it around like some sort of lethal weapon. Keiichi scolded himself for losing his composure so easily; this was a mere lass, and over a decade younger!

But in that moment the female in question seemed to notice the discomfort she was imposing upon him and let out something of an apologetic laugh. She didn't openly call it as such or make any other reconciliatory gestures, but the next time she blinked the abnormal pressure was gone.

"Cultural institutions like museums are not enjoying their best moments right now, are they? Everyone is preoccupied with the economic downward spiral and looking for a sacrificial lamb to help patch up the financial gaps. What could be better for this purpose than institutions that do not bring direct profit and therefore have few wealthy supporters?"

Keiichi studied her in silent surprise. While she had used general terms, she had more or less summarized his observations on the topic. Of course, and he made a mental grimace at the thought, she wasn't one of those qualified to complain about the situation...

"And obviously enough, my party is focused on the market situation enough to overlook any amount of damage it does to everything else."

This time, Keiichi had to blink before reassuring himself he had heard her right. She had just freely admitted to her faction's destructive influence on culture. Was this honesty or just self-assured flippancy?

"While admitting that greatly saddens me," Keiichi set the question of Hinagiku's intentions aside for the time being "I also cannot say that preserving our history is my colleagues' top priority. At present, the only thing one can hope to accomplish is to minimize the losses and wait for better times..."

"Was it any better before, then?" Hinagiku prodded.

"It's not that any recent bills worsened the situation," Keiichi ventured "It's more that no effort is being made for them to adapt to the new circumstances."

"Local authorities, then."

Keiichi nodded.

"The number of questionable decisions at that level recently has been so large that it would hardly be enough to explain it with mere carelessness or complacency. I cannot help suspecting that some harmful pressure is being exerted upon the decision-making bodies. But I couldn't find any clues supporting this theory back when I was a curator with no political influence. I still have no idea who could benefit from this... it might all be my imagination."

Instead of answering, Hinagiku directed her gaze at the floor and began drilling holes straight down to the basement. Her prolonged silence gave Keiichi the time to realize he had confided more than he had intended in who was essentially a stranger. But the serious and contemplative expression she now wore convinced him she wasn't taking his words lightly. Keiichi was actually glad to have someone from his new circles hear him out.

Hinagiku's look grew steadily dimmer, as if she was seeing something horrible with increasing clarity. But before Keiichi could guess what was in her heart, her head snapped up and, looking off into space, she delivered her one word response.

"Trophies."

Keiichi hesitated, unsure how he should react.

"Excuse me?"

Almost imperceptibly, Hinagiku nodded as though strengthening some resolution.

"Someone is forcefully trying to close down as many museums as possible," Hinagiku paused to give Keiichi time to contradict her, and took his silence for approval when he didn't answer "In that case, what happens to the exhibits?"

Keiichi's eyes narrowed as he tried to discern what she was getting at.

"Well, most are transferred to other nearby museums, part of them are placed in temporary storage rooms, some may be sold for private collections..."

It clicked. Once the last few words left his mouth, he understood what Hinagiku meant by trophies.

"It's not like just anyone can get their hands on valuable exhibits this way," Keiichi hurried to protest "Such deals are only undertaken with trustworthy art collectors, often people who lent their own collections to the museums at some point!"

He was trying to explain the process, but the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach merely intensified. Hinagiku immediately confirmed his fears.

"Wealthy, influential people. People who, by whatever means, had already procured large collections of antics."

The perfect culprits.

It was left unsaid, that obvious, natural conclusion.

Keiichi swore inwardly. His fists clenched. Why hadn't he noticed before? Why hadn't he seen the enemies shamelessly picking apart what he held dear? Anger boiled within him, the anger of months of frustration and powerlessness suddenly granted a target. It threatened to strip him of his self-control and, for a moment, his body shook.

He met Hinagiku's eyes. That deep, unforgiving gaze was back, trained straight at him, but it no longer made him uneasy. Now he understood its significance.

"We hold conflicting ideals, Murasaki-san, and we are sure to clash in the future," Hinagiku spoke in a low tone "But there are things neither of us can forgive, there are men and women whom we both need to expose and see crawling in the dirt. Support me when the time to strike comes and I swear I will hold nothing back to have them pay."

There was no need for Keiichi to respond verbally.

"Then, Murasaki-san," Hinagiku said with a parting bow "When the time is right, let us meet on the battlefield."

Keiichi returned her bow and watched her retreating back. That was it. She had made him remember his reason for reaching this place, the passion to fight back against invisible, impregnable foes. He was not here to slowly drown in the depths of trade-offs and political correctness, as had had already began to do under pressure from his colleagues.

He moved a portion of the strawberry shortcake recommended to him earlier to a plate and assaulted it with a dessert fork. It tasted exquisite.

When Hinagiku's peculiar hair next flashed in his sight, she was standing at the other end of the room, talking to some older gentleman. Was that the person she had been waiting for? She was nodding her head, bowing politely and that familiar movement... yes, she fished out her business card. A first encounter, then. So maybe that wasn't the person she had been waiting for, but another conversation partner to help her kill the time.

"Actually, Murasaki-san, I've been waiting for a certain person… "

What was it with the eerie tone she used when she said that? Who could Katsura Hinagiku be waiting for? As much as he thought that a bridge of understanding had been created between them during their short exchange, he still didn't know her enough to be able to tell. The only things he knew...

...another conversation partner...

...name spoken in whispers...

...would you mind keeping me company?...

...dangerous ideas...

...there are things neither of us can forgive...

...seemed not much different from him...

"Then, Murasaki san, when the time is right, let us meet on the battlefield."

The plate and fork he had been holding descended onto the table with an undignified clatter. His eyes bore into her face; the distance between them was large but he was certain that smile was still there. His mouth formed an uncertain, twitching grin of its own. Would there really be somebody who could make you of all people wait for them, Katsura-san?

He fumbled in his pocket for a pen and the business card Hinagiku had given him earlier. He twisted the pen in his fingers once, and then set it to paper. He hesitated, spun the pen once more, set it to paper once more. And finally, he labeled the card with a written description of one word only.

Monster

xxx

Lily of the Valley – n. (Bot.)a popular garden plant, grown for its scented flowers and for its ground covering abilities in shady locations; some consider it a weed, as it can spread over a wide area in gardens and can be difficult to contain or remove; according to one legend, Lilies of the Valley sprang from the blood of Saint Leonard of Noblac during his battles with a dragon; all parts of the Lily of the Valley are highly poisonous.

AN: Sorry for the delay in posting this, but I've just finished a period when I worked for up to seventeen hours a day for several consecutive days, obviously leaving me with no time or strength to do anything else. Also, I'll be working on a few Umineko shorts parallel to the next installment of this story, so tell me which one you'd like to see more when you leave a comment.

On a side note, everything regarding the Japanese Diet (i.e. separate candidate and block votes, age for passive voting right, facts about the Japanese Diet building etc.) works as it does in contemporary Japan, except for the factions present and the distribution of power, which does not. The Hayate world has insane families which could fund a world war on their own, which are hopefully not present in real life.

The most common question in reader's reviews so far was about Hayate's current state. I suppose this chapter... didn't answer it (or did it?). Don't give up, though. Persistence is the key to success! Probably.

Hinagiku stretched her arms out clumsily, her frame tottering at the edge of the sofa.

"I looove you..."

She who dares, wins... and all that.