Alright, second to last chapter of this part!
As always, thanks to kokodoru for the beta-reading!
This is taking a while.
Luka quickly penned a reply. They already knew how she had decided to proceed, but boy, none of them had anticipated Miku's stubbornness. The woman sighed as she wrote, realizing how tired she felt. How long would it go on? The easy habit had far too quickly evolved into a harrowing task.
That didn't stop her from trying again and again, though. But she started having her doubts. Even as the money poured in, it lost its value. The reward seemed duller and duller still, and the job more and more herculean. She even considered quitting, at one point. After all, it was already mid-summer. If Miku continued to be so persistent, then she had no idea how much longer it would last. Till fall, winter? Would it go on for a full year? No, she couldn't imagine it.
At least, not until the next letter came in. It felt particularly fat and heavy, making Luka wonder how much money was stuffed inside. It went so far as to warrant an extra stamp, which was absurd.
But there was no money in there. Countless photos of her parents. Photos of Lily, and of her parents. Then photos of her own cousins, aunts, uncles. A horrifying reminder of the first stakes laid out before her. A horrifying realization that they knew everybody in her family. They knew where they lived, what they did.
Luka remembered the leash that was tied around her neck.
...She could do this, she immediately thought. If everybody she knew was at risk, then Miku was worth nothing in comparison. She would continue as long as it would take. She would do whatever needed to be done. She would succeed.
She made sure to let them know that immediately. She worked ruthlessly, day in, day out. But that didn't mean that sometimes, it didn't get a little difficult. When she watched Miku celebrate her birthday, sit with her mother, and be happy for once, she swore that she could almost feel that leash. As time went on and on, it withered, both losing its significance, and chafing her. Her doubt started to grow along with her guilt. Christmas rolled by, money continued to roll in, and the leash started to become suffocating. When Miku got scared and threw the entire home upside down, when she became nomadic when Luka watched her have nightmare after nightmare, quietly loathing herself. The book which contained all of her original notes, she burned it, hating the knowledge she possessed. In her letters, she realized that she had started to omit details. They never learned that her mother came to visit for Christmas. They never learned that Miku hardly browsed the internet, that she loved books, that she preferred bitter over sweet.
That didn't help much, though. Sometimes, she wished that the leash was real so that she could hang herself from it.
Luka was suddenly sleepless again. She lay on her pillows in vain, tossing and turning. It was silly, really. The past few days had gone so, so well: she and Miku got along wonderfully, singing for hours on end, cheering in triumph and their success, and laughing at their mistakes. It was all so wonderful. She wouldn't be surprised if she wasn't the only one who sometimes forgot the fact that they were in legitimate danger. Of course, they never let their guard down; the drawn curtains and the dimmed light served as an everlasting reminder. But they could make sure a door was locked as they locked it, instead of checking again mere minutes later.
That didn't mean that all was ideal quite yet. Luka still compulsively bit at her cheeks, and most of the time she didn't even realize it. It would only be when Miku pinched her when she would notice that she was doing it again. And two days weren't enough to cure her of her tiny diet, despite the better mood and Miku's best efforts. Finally, Luka's paranoia would inevitably return when the tealette fell asleep.
Even the best of days couldn't make her forget that Miku's father would return anytime the following day.
She could already imagine the scene, that fateful night at one in the morning. The inspectors, the black light, some special dust and who knew what else they used to find the slightest to clue to where the hell Miku had gone. She saw the photographer take pictures of everything. The bed. The scattered dirt in the basement. The broken lock, the boltless grate.
Miku's mother was probably already on her way home, on a plane, mid-air, over the Pacific. Chewing on her lip, frantically looking at her phone, doing anything to just get there earlier because her daughter was gone.
Gone.
Briefly, she wondered if she would be able to watch the news at all. And Miku...how would she react? 'til then, she had been handling everything amazingly well, and she got more and more joyful with every passing day. But...how would she react before her parents on TV, after hearing that everyone on the planet was looking for her?
She worried, obsessively, in silence, about it all. All her fears and thoughts were endlessly recycled, repeated. She thought about the detectives, the missed clues, the parents, the fear. She thought about everything she was doing to them.
"Luka?"
The pinkette sat up. Miku was looking at her with tired eyes.
"Can't sleep?" she asked.
"No," Luka admitted.
"Want to talk about it?"
She hesitated. But finally, she whispered, "Sure."
Luka stood and sat next to Miku. The tealette seemed drowsy, but it didn't look like she had been sleeping either.
That was another concern that nagged at the back of Luka's mind. The tealette had promised to let her know of her 'demons', as she'd put it, but she had yet to talk about them. She trusted that Miku would open up about it in time, though: all she could do was wait for her to be ready for that.
"What's up?" mumbled the younger woman, stifling a yawn.
"I'm just thinking a lot," answered Luka. "A bit too much, maybe."
"What're you thinking about?"
"Your dad is coming home."
Miku stayed quiet for a few moments, before sighing, and muttering, "Already?"
"Yeah."
"He usually comes home super early in the morning," revealed the tealette. "So, yeah, anytime soon."
Luka nodded. They bathed in a comfortable silence, for Luka felt like Miku understood what she had meant. Even with how sleepy the younger woman was, the dots were easy to connect.
Miku yawned again and leaned against Luka's shoulder.
"You think I'll be in the news, tomorrow?" she asked.
"Probably."
"Hmm..." the beginning of the tealette's sentence was cut off by yet another yawn. "I... I want to see what that will be like."
"Ok."
"You were worried?"
"A bit."
"That they might find something?"
"They'll probably find something; I can't stop that anymore. I suppose I'm mostly afraid of how you'll react."
Miku stayed silent, even yawns unable to coax a sound from her. Suddenly, she seemed a bit more awake.
"I don't know, either," she confessed. "But don't worry. I'll stay right here. I'm not gonna run away or something."
"Oh."
"You didn't think I might run away, did you?"
"No. I thought you might be...sad."
The tealette giggled, "I've been sad before," topped with a yawn.
"True. But you've seemed quite happy, lately."
Miku inhaled deeply, and relaxed. "Yeah. I've been real happy. Happiest I've been in..." she trailed off.
Luka frowned, concerned. Miku, however, just seemed to be dozing off. She sat up, and let the tealette sink back into her bed. Before she could step away, however, Miku managed to usher one last question.
"Hey... You've been happy lately too, right?"
"Yeah."
The happiest she'd been in...
Could she even remember?
Neither woman woke up early the next day. Luka rose from the floor at one point and went on the prepare for the day, and found herself surprisingly calm for their given situation. Of course, there was some strange feeling, something akin to stage fright, that she couldn't seem to shake off. She knew it was due to the fact that they were probably the headlines at that very moment, and couldn't settle with the knowledge that from that point on, she could only watch. There was no point anymore in worrying what else she could do; all that was left to do was hide. But the jittery, antsy feeling clung to her nonetheless.
Miku woke up a little bit before noon. At first, Luka thought that she had forgotten about her father being back home because the younger woman didn't seem concerned at all. They had breakfast, Luka's portion still small, exchanged a few words about some of the songs they had sung the previous day, and the like. The pinkette almost forgot about everything herself, until Miku said: "I'd like to see the news, now."
Luka could only nod, the return of the stage fright enough to make her hesitate. Nonetheless, she made her way to her computer, Miku close behind. Luka didn't know much about the national, or even the local, news channels or networks, and had no idea where to start looking. She ended up typing in the name of their country and 'news' in her search engine, and sure enough, a few sites popped up. She clicked the first link, recognizing the name and guessing that it was probably the online site of the national news broadcast.
She didn't have to look much further: the first video had Miku's portrait in the thumbnail, and the title was everything she could expect. Without wasting a second she clicked it, and both women waited with baited breath for the live footage to load.
The news anchor appeared mid-sentence, Miku's portrait plastered on the right side of the screen. The woman obviously was very grim, delivering the information with a balance of professional neutrality and appropriate shock at the situation. Meanwhile, words slid across the bottom of the screen, quickly summing up all the information they knew about literally anything that needed to be known.
Luka immediately wanted to hone in on the words. All of them. The printed ones, the spoken ones. But it was too late; she already recognized the picture as one taken at Miku's previous birthday, the last time her mother had ever seen her. She could see the kitchen in the background, her father's hand on her shoulder.
It struck her so hard it made her numb. She could only come back to reality when the picture faded, replaced by a video of a man being interviewed. A tag identified him as one of the officers on-site.
"We're still trying to determine a lot of things, really," the man started. He was young, but his smile never quite reached his eyes. "When she disappeared is the big one. Her father was gone for a full week, and that's a pretty large window to work with. We're going to go over seven days of traffic surveillance and interview all of the neighbors. Of course, that's just two things on the list."
"That's terrible, that the time of the disappearance will be so difficult to pinpoint. Do you have any information that's more telling?"
A small, almost timid smile, before the officer answered, "Well, we've already figured out how they managed to get in and out of the building."
He refused to say more on that subject, so the interviewer continued, "Could you figure out if the girl was taken against her will?"
The officer smiled again, politely, and shook his head. "I'm afraid that certain details will have to remain classified for the time being, sorry."
"Do you have a suspect?"
"Unfortunately, no."
The interview cut away and returned to the news anchor who briefly thanked the officer for his time. She added another comment on the terrible nature of the entire situation before listing the facts they already knew.
The victim: a nineteen-year-old girl, daughter of two of the most influential economic figures. No suspect. No determined time of abduction. No hints of struggle, but it's possible that the victim had been under the influence of some substance.
No clue if the victim was still alive at all.
Luka froze at that. She's alive, she told herself. She's alive, she's safe. She's ok. They just didn't know. It was knowledge only two people in the entire world could use as comfort. As for everyone else? They would have to suffer the uncertainty.
Miku sniffled, pulling the pinkette from her thoughts.
"I've never been in the news, before," she said with a thin smile. "Not that many people get to, right? It's- It's kind of cool I guess."
Luka looked at her carefully. She suddenly seemed so weak. She was shaking slightly, and her smile was as frail as a tower of cards. And then it hit her: Miku was about to cry.
The sounds from her computer were immediately drowned away, turned into nothing more than bland background noise. Before Luka could say anything, Miku continued as the first tears welled up in her eyes, "My parents, they never let me go outside. I thought they didn't want to see me go out. Or-or that they didn't want my face to be seen," she sniffed again, and Luka put her computer down, never taking her eyes off of the young woman. "For a long time, I actually thought something was wrong with me. I asked why I couldn't go to school. They said I would be safe, or that the world was dangerous. Only later, I was told that it was because of the, the...apparently violent competition. Economy and monopolies, and all that. I thou-I thought that because of all that, not a person, not a soul, that the world, the entire world, would never see my face. And, hey, would you look at that...! There I am..."
At that point, tears were running down her cheeks. Luka hesitantly put a hand on her shoulder.
"Yet, now that I'm finally free- I'm finally out... They want me back, Luka. They want to put me back in my tower and keep me away from all of the dragons and demons. They want me alone again."
Miku then turned towards her, her smile shaking, but her eyebrows slightly furrowed. "What dragons? For all I know, there's just that one guy, and you, protecting me from him." Then, voice wrung by emotion, she asked, "Luka... I-is something wrong with me? Am I... Not like other people?"
The first emotion that hit the pinkette was anger. How could she think that? She thought of the books and movies Miku could have soaked up, all these stories about people, evidence of what humanity is like. All of the documentation on the Internet she could access within seconds. Yet, that didn't truly say much of real people, right? She never spoke with anyone outside of her family. She never got to look anybody in the eye.
She probably hadn't ever had anybody smile with her.
To live a life trapped with books and movies, cut off from the outside world, she could witness nothing 'normal'. With no experience, no reference point whatsoever, even autobiographies and non-fiction would fall under fantasy and sci-fi. Her only periscope to the outside was in the form of her parents, those who had ordered her containment in the first place. She probably had just enough knowledge from her books to know of bad guys and heroes, about manipulation, to know that the only people she ever spoke to could very well be lying to her.
Miku had absolutely no real reason to think that nothing was wrong with her.
That single realization made Luka's heart shatter and sink to her stomach. Forgetting about her self-consciousness, forgetting about it all, in a single mindless movement, she enveloped the tealette in a hug, a gesture which was welcomed with open arms. Miku sank into the embrace, and the pinkette could feel how she was holding back tears.
"Nothing's wrong with you, Miku," she mumbled, urgently. "Absolutely nothing."
"Really...?" the younger woman managed to ask with an isolated sob. Her voice was muffled by Luka's shirt.
"Really! You have your quirks, but everyone does, honest."
"Quirks?" she whispered, almost afraid to ask.
"Yeah." Luka thought about it for a while, before saying with a grin, "People, they usually don't tend to like vegetables much."
Miku laughed, which made Luka's smile grow a bit.
"And, frankly, you're entirely too trusting," she softly chided.
The tealette laughed again but shook her head. "You keep your promises," she answered, voice still muffled but much happier than before. "And you're a great cook." Luka's smiled faltered as she just barely managed to stop herself from adding that she also attempted murder. Luckily, Miku kept speaking, not letting the pinkette get a single word in, almost as if she knew what the older woman was thinking. "You know, with how much you do your best to fix your own mistakes, with how much you worry, do your best, everything..." Miku hesitated, briefly. "I've never felt safer."
That single statement was enough to make Luka pause. Suddenly, holding the tealette felt like something she shouldn't be doing at all. She felt like a child caught with a hand in the cookie jar, trying to take something she hadn't asked for and couldn't have. Simultaneously, all of her discomfort returned: she remembered everything from her own bony frame, to how she had held the pillow against Miku's face.
The tealette swiftly pulled out of the embrace. Either she must have felt her get tense at the remark, or the expressed sentiment wasn't as solid as Luka had thought.
"Rapunzel always was my favorite princess," Miku muttered absent-mindedly as she looked at the screen. "I suppose that isn't so strange."
"It's not," Luka answered, focusing on the news as well, hoping to forget what had just happened. From then on, she would have to make sure that she wouldn't let herself get so carried away, she told herself.
The news proved to be devoid of information. Luka's worries evaporated somewhat, comforted that she had left few enough leads for them to be lost for the moment. Of course, the omnipotent power that had hired her remained a threat, one she couldn't ever forget. Still, knowing that the police weren't going to be knocking at her door was a comfort.
Eventually, the segment ended, and they promised to keep the public posted, should any new information be found. However, none of the other stories caught Luka's interest, so she simply got up and planned to go grocery shopping. Before she could leave, the phone rang. The tealette perked up at the never-before-heard sound.
"What-?"
Luka sat up and walked over to the telephone, surprised and apprehensive.
"Oh, it's my parents," she said, a little relieved.
But then she froze.
"Your parents?" inquired Miku, putting the computer away. "Why don't you answer?"
"I'm supposed to be working right now," answered Luka, stepping back from the phone. "They think I have a job."
"Then why are they calling?"
Luka looked over at the computer. "They might be worried," she mumbled. "Because of the news."
Miku nodded slowly, putting two and two together. The ringing stopped. A handful of quiet seconds later, the phone rang again.
"I can't answer," stated Luka, half-angry.
"I understand," Miku replied, sounding sad. "Still, for them to call like that, they seem really concerned."
Luka nodded, stopping herself from telling stories of twelve missed calls and fifteen text messages from a worried mother to a late-partying teen.
"I'll call them back this evening," she said, returning to the couch, letting the ringing stop and start again. "When I'm 'home'."
They let the phone ring. When it stopped for the third time, Luka almost believed that it would be the end. But no, they called a fourth time, their number displayed on the caller ID.
That was their final try.
When the silence lasted long enough, Luka sighed and fell back onto the couch, thoughts of chores all but gone.
Miku shyly rolled over to face her. "Do you keep in touch with your parents often?" she asked.
"Every now and then." Luka hesitated before adding, "When I first moved here, I called them every evening. But, with time, that changed to about once per two weeks."
"Ah. When did you move here?"
"About three years ago, I think? I was nineteen." The information seemed to astonish the tealette somewhat, and Luka felt bad for sharing it. At nineteen, she could go to another city, independent. But Miku was still kept at home. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have..." Luka trailed off, feeling stupid.
"No, it's ok," Miku mumbled. "I suppose I'm just curious about how family works with other people."
"It's different for everyone, really. Every family works differently; every family has their demons. It's never perfect. But, because it's family, we work it out. Or at least, we try to. We're supposed to, if we can."
Miku thought about it for a moment but didn't add anything. Eventually, she picked the computer back up, and Luka stood to buy some groceries.
When she came back, Miku was exactly where she left her: in front of the computer. The only difference was that her bed was made, and she had gotten dressed. She asked if anything new had come up, and Miku answered no. Luka quickly put away all of the food items and sat next to the tealette. The younger woman was browsing various news sites, some more or less local, some foreign, but nobody had anything new to say. There were simply dozens of articles about various other incidents, the economy, real estate, sports, natural disasters and worldwide politics, and suddenly, she understood why Miku was still looking around, even though she was not the world's headline. With a sad smile, and let the younger woman watch the outside world.
Only later would the tealette be satisfied with what she had seen, and they'd spend time together once again. They talked a lot, sang, and talked some more. After dinner, they looked at the news again, and Luka called her parents, lying through her teeth.
The next days would assume that pattern: in the morning and evening, they would watch the news, but the bulk of their day was spent together, away from everything else. At first, it had surprised the pinkette to see the younger woman so interested in the outside world all of a sudden: back home, she had avoided the internet, and Luka had blamed envy. But suddenly, Miku was all eyes and ears for the outside world. Maybe it was the fact that finally, she had a conversation partner. She could already imagine young Miku, sitting at the dinner table with her dad, trying to be interested in what happens out in the wild world, but tired daddy couldn't find the energy to contribute. Even if that was the reason, Miku had yet to actually discuss what they saw and read, and Luka was a little relieved: looking for a headline, an update, continued to make her nervous. Luckily, every time Miku would catch her biting and gnawing at her lips, pinching her or starting conversation. In any case, she thought that, should the tealette ask a question, she would do her best to answer, no matter how little she might know or how it would make her feel.
A week rolled by. A week spent in the semi-dark atmosphere of drawn curtains, spent waiting for the police to knock on their door, spent singing and laughing. Yes, despite the looming fear and terror, Luka couldn't help but get better and feel better. Her portions at mealtimes started growing again, and hours could go by without Miku catching her eating the inside of her own mouth. The biggest contributor was mere conversation: they talked about worries, fears, and at the end of the day, there would be nothing else haunting her. In parallel, Miku had finally revealed her own fears and worries, much to Luka's delight. Her main concern was that because of Luka's haunting, the tealette was constantly unsure of what to expect when she entered a new room. Even in Luka's three-room studio for one, walking from one room to the next was always accompanied by a terrifyingly gripping apprehension. Neither knew if it was paranoia or something like it, but Miku would inevitably be thinking about what was happening in other rooms. She felt compelled to go check, she admitted. In the studio, her fear was easy to hide: she simply had to look through the doorframe and she'd see all three rooms. But it didn't let her go, and even worsened when a door was closed.
Finding a solution, or any way to help beyond keeping all doors (except the front door) open, proved to be a challenge. Luka couldn't possibly pretend she wasn't there, or systematically put everything back exactly where she found it. They decided to do something similar to how Miku would help Luka with her biting, except it required total transparency on Miku's behalf: she had to voice every single time she was concerned about the other rooms. And like that, they kept each other in check.
A harmony of sorts managed to settle between the two. Luka would go outside and provide for them, while Miku stayed at home and kept an eye on the outside world. Where they met, they would help each other in unison. Small details continued to change: Miku's new sneakers eventually lost their new sheen and stopped squeaking, so they found their new place right beside Luka's shoes. At one point, they decided to share a moment with a mug of hot milk, or hot chocolate, before bed, and that habit stuck, too.
One morning, mid-September, while Miku was once again browsing the various online news channels and newspapers, Luka found nothing better to do than lie down on her couch and simply look at the ceiling. Inhale. Exhale. Repeat. Suddenly, Miku pushed against her leg, and Luka realized that she had been biting again. Other than that, nothing else happened. Nothing else was to be done at the moment. They had food, their clothes were clean, the doors locked, the curtains drawn.
It was in those quiet moments that it became painfully obvious to her that they were simply waiting. Waiting for confirmation from her 'boss' that they believed Miku was dead. And then what? Wait for a way out? For a miracle? This would all end someday, right? When? How?
"Oh, Luka! An update!"
The pinkette immediately sat up and joined Miku's side. 'Breaking News' was plastered across the screen. The anchor announced somewhat excitedly that the police had picked up a trail on the victim's location. Luka was sure she could taste her heart in the back of her throat. No matter how calm she had just been, she was already panicking. Miku wrapped an arm around hers', in silent support. The video cut to another policeman, who was standing in a park. The banner said that he was investigation officer, Hiyama Kiyoteru.
"We have reason to believe that she was brought here," he explained, before turning towards his left. "Right over there's the river that flows through, and under, this city, and the victim's right shoe was found right there, caught on a branch. Unfortunately, the implications aren't very good."
"Oh, that's why we went there," mumbled Miku.
Luka still didn't let herself relax quite yet, so she just nodded, her breath stuck in her throat.
"But there's hope," he continued. "We still haven't found the other shoe, so she might have been brought to the other side of the river, and lost it in a struggle. We have officers scattered over the entire area."
"What brought you here?" inquired the interviewer.
"Well, we went through the nights of street security footage and noticed that nobody fitting the victim's description ever appeared on camera around her home. So we looked at all places a kidnapper might want to bring their victim, away from cameras, and that isn't too far from the starting point. This was one of...I think four, five locations? Finding her shoe was incredibly fortunate."
"And what if she was pushed into the water?" was the next question.
"Of course, that's a possibility," he replied, sounding less enthusiastic. "The river is relatively safe: from here on, it doesn't feed into any systems, and simply goes to the ocean. It's shallow, and is rife with curves where someone can easily get out of the stream. Just in case, we've sent people downstream, of course. The only real issue is the part where the river flows under the city. Back in the day, they covered it up, because the constant humidity brought diseases. Now, it's not an easily accessible place, so we can't exactly search it. But as I said: there's hope."
"Any clues as to when the kidnapping occurred?"
"Not really. Of course, it must have happened while the father was away. Other than that, we can't pinpoint anything much more precise: just two days into his absence, there was a storm and numerous flash floods, and even after his return, but before we located the shoes, it's rained some more. So, there were no footprints around here, and any DNA left behind must have been swept away in a flash flood. We still have that one week window to work with."
From there, the news station thanked the officer before listing all the details, old and new.
"...they think I might have drowned in a river," mumbled Miku. "And if I didn't, that I'm in the woods somewhere."
Luka couldn't answer, too focused on feeling her heart slowly calm down. They knew she was avoiding cameras, and that made her a bit nervous. But Miku was right: they were all around the river, and nowhere near their actual location.
"That was smart," complimented the tealette. "They all think I'm over in that park. That's far from here, isn't it?"
"I suppose. About fifty minutes of walking."
"Oh. I didn't think we had walked that long."
"We walked much more than that," replied Luka. "You were a bit out of it, I remember."
Miku nodded. "That night is just a foggy memory, now. I can barely remember anything... But hey! The people who are after me are probably happy. So, that's two birds with one stone, right?"
"Yeah."
"Nice." Miku trailed off, suddenly sounding uncertain. "So, we're safe now?"
Luka shook her head and stood, walked around, thinking. They weren't safe, she thought. Frankly, she had hoped that the police would never even find the shoe. The fact that they found a single shoe at all worried her. And sure, they had only followed her red herring, but they found it...
And who knew if her employer would ever take their eye off of her. Who knew if they would forget about her.
She suddenly realized that, with the police one step closer, they were probably less safe than before. Even if that wasn't the case...they probably wouldn't ever be safe.
"Luka, you're eating yourself again," scolded Miku as she stopped the pinkette from pacing anymore. The pinkette felt the hands on her shoulders, tried to draw strength from them. "Talk to me."
Luka did just that, told her all of her new worries, and felt slightly better after sharing. But she still felt nervous.
"I just...don't know."
"We'll see how it goes," assured the tealette. "Eventually, the police will come to a dead end. And if they find my other shoe, the guy who wants me dead will be really happy. If they don't, I'll be missing for so long, they'll have to think that I had drowned! Don't worry so much."
Luka eyed her for a moment.
"You don't think they'll find you, don't you?" she questioned.
Miku frowned. "No, I don't."
"Why?" the pinkette insisted.
"Well, you did such a good job, with this distraction. Plus, you pulled another trick right as we arrived here, didn't you? You entered through the bathroom window."
"True. All streets leading to my front door are filmed at one point or another. The only way I could truly escape them is by taking a detour. But-"
"So we never were on camera together!" exclaimed Miku. "They'll never have any reason to suspect you, or to even come here at all!"
"Miku..." Luka sighed, before continuing, "Miku, you were on camera. Sure, you were wearing my jacket, but surely, if they look at all of the footage long enough, they'll notice that suddenly I'm a bit shorter than usual."
The tealette rolled her eyes, so uncharacteristic, it made the older woman pause.
"Miku," she spoke slowly. "We cannot, ever, dismiss the possibility that you can be found here. Ever."
"Well, I think it's unlikely enough," she huffed.
"It may not be probable, but damn it, Miku, it's possible!" Luka barked. "It doesn't matter how much you don't want to be found, the fact that it's possible just doesn't care!"
Miku shrank back, and Luka realized exactly how she had been talking to the tealette. She groaned, hands on her face.
"I'm sorry, Miku. It's just-"
"It's not about them finding me," mumbled the tealette.
"What?"
"I don't want them to find you."
Luka blurted, caught off guard, "Miku, I-"
"I know, you'll end up in prison no matter what. But that's not what worries me. If they find you, and me, then all of your efforts would have been in vain, right?" Miku carefully inquired. Luka slowly nodded. "They'll get you, or your family, because you didn't kill me. That's why I don't want us to be found."
"...Here I was thinking that you were scared that they'll try to kill you a second time."
"That's true too." Luka could only laugh breathlessly at Miku's dry confession. "But really, there's really nothing to be worried about. So please, stop worrying."
"...I'll do my best."
"And, if I may, I'd just like to mention that you're not the only person who ever walks around here. So they'll never notice if the me on camera is supposed to be you. I could be anyone. That's another worry gone."
Another chuckle. "You couldn't help but just give one more little counter argument, couldn't you?"
"Nope," Miku confessed with a grin. "Especially if it makes you feel better."
"Well, it worked," admitted the pinkette.
"Wonderful," Miku was positively beaming. She turned around and turned the computer off, announcing without words that she wouldn't let them stress Luka out so much. The older woman grinned before sitting down, exactly where she was before the breaking news erupted. Miku joined her, and together, they stared at the ceiling for a few quiet moments.
Suddenly, Miku giggled, turned on her side to whisper, "You know, I was almost afraid that I had just gotten in my first fight."
Luka raised a brow. "Never fought with your parents?"
Miku shook her head.
Luka shrugged, not totally sure of what exactly Miku wanted to hear, "Well...I guess it was a little fight. I got a bit angry, sorry."
"No, it's fine. I just thought that fights didn't end well."
"They don't when people don't agree. But you're too good at making a point to let that happen," teased the pinkette.
Miku stuck out her tongue, declaring, "I've never fought in my life and yet I won!"
Luka blew a raspberry. "Only because you had so much free time to practice made up fights in your head!"
"Ouch!" Miku laughed. "Ok, I got nothing against that."
Luka smiled, relieved that her jab hadn't been misinterpreted. She was ready to blame the friendly burn on the pleasant mood. "Besides, a real argument usually gets more mean. They usually don't revolve around the idea of who wants who to stay safe."
"Huh. I suppose I can imagine that."
"Really?"
"Well, people want things. If two people want different things, then I'm sure that sometimes the confrontation doesn't go so well."
"Yeah. Especially when emotions get involved. Then reason doesn't work anymore."
"Uh-oh. I guess I should avoid emotionally-driven debates, then." Luka laughed, so sincerely it almost ached, which made the tealette smile. "Is this what people do?" she asked. "Just...lie down and talk and laugh?"
"Yeah. It's been a while since I could do this with anyone. I've missed this."
They shared the silence again, before Miku quietly asked, "Is there something your family did that made you mad sometimes? ...Fights?"
The last word made Luka realize that Miku wasn't asking a casual 'how do families work' question. She remembered how Miku had dropped the subject earlier that week and thought that maybe, she was searching for something akin to her own situation. Luka paused, weighing the possible answers she could give. She couldn't lie and pretend that she had gone through a similar hell. Comparing to the tealette, she was a free bird, scratch that, a god. She could travel, act, influence, share. But with the way that Miku had worried and wondered if she was different, if there was something wrong with her, she felt she had to answer. Miku probably wanted nothing more than to feel less alien. But Luka wasn't sure she could be able to deliver that: she didn't have any nightmares to tell. There was only a story of slight heartbreak.
In the end, she supposed it would suffice.
"When I was little, I always wanted to sing," Luka offered, "My dad never said anything about that, but my mom, hm, 'recommended' I should take a different path."
Despite the small scale of the story, Miku seemed surprised. At first, Luka didn't think the small confession would touch her that much, although when she thought about it, it was more of an inspirational caging, over a physical one. Perhaps it was still relatable in a way.
"But you sing so well!"
"Thanks. But I had to admit that the chances of making a living from singing are...slim."
"She didn't want to let you try?"
"She didn't want to see me heartbroken, I guess."
Miku thought about it for a long time, before asking, "What do you like to do now?"
"History is cool."
"Hm. My dad tried to teach me a little when I was young. But it didn't really stick, and I don't think he cared enough about it to make it fun for me."
"What did he teach you?"
"Economy. Politics. Math. My mom taught me how to read, write. Language stuff."
"No chemistry, physics, philosophy...?"
Miku shook her head. "You learned about all that?"
"Yeah. School tries to teach us about a bunch of things."
"That's nice."
"Well, it's alright. But with your dad, if neither of you cared, you can just quit. In school, though, you have to learn, or you won't be able to get to what you really want to focus on."
"Ah."
Both stayed quiet for a while, until Miku finally asked, "What's school like, actually?"
They spent the day talking about the outside world. As Luka expected, eventually the questions went towards what she could have seen on the news. She inquired about important figures, international relationships. Often, Luka confessed to knowing only very little about many things, though the tealette didn't seem to mind. In fact, with every question asked, she seemed more and more overjoyed to have someone to talk to about such varied topics.
Time ticked on. Eventually, Miku wanted to actually learn about subjects she'd never gotten a chance to look at but realized quickly that none of them entertained her. "I didn't miss out on much, in the end," she declared as she closed a physics book. "Good thing I actually like economy as much as my dad does."
Then, the police found Miku's second shoe, stranded on the river bank about fifty kilometers outside of the city borders. The day thereafter, a letter appeared in Luka's mailbox. It read:
We have seen the news. Due to your past record, we trust that you have disposed of the body in an efficient manner. As you can see, there is no return address included in this letter; from here on out, our business is over. Here is your last payment, plus a bonus, for making sure that the parents will never have anything to fill a grave.
Thank you for your cooperation.
Luka scoffed, then handed the letter to Miku. Inside the envelope, she found triple her typical 'salary'. The wad of cash was probably barely under the weight limit for a single stamp. She felt it in her hand, the comforting weight of a packet of money.
It disgusted her.
"Wow..." Miku mumbled, observing the letter sharply. "These- these guys..."
"Yeah." Luka couldn't find anything else to say. She threw the money on the table and sat on the couch. She didn't want to put it away and seal the deal. She didn't want to look at it.
"I guess it never really hit me how much they hated me," admitted the tealette. "Nothing to fill a grave...?"
Luka nodded, grim. Miku sat beside her and looked at the money on the table. The mood was lower than it had been in days.
"Well, we have one thing at least. We're winning, and they don't know it."
The comfort couldn't reach Luka. She shrugged, unable to find something to say. The letter reminded her how exactly the two of them had met: in the past few merry weeks, she'd practically forgotten. Miku must have sensed it because she gently nudged the older woman.
"Do you think they'll let us be, now?" she asked.
"Maybe they won't watch as sharply. But..."
Miku nodded. Both knew that even with this final letter, they had to stay hidden. No matter if they waited ten hours, days or years, the moment Miku would step outside, everything would go down the drain.
Miku put the letter down. They sat there in silence, staring into the void. Somehow, they knew that they were sharing the same thoughts. Both wondered how it would all end. If it would ever end at all.