October
Mitsuru blinked out over the dizzying landscape of manmade structures that stretched to the horizon before settling her head back against her seat. Flying in the main cabin of an airplane with a forged passport was the most recent item on the long list of first time experiences Mitsuru had had in the last several months. However, considering the imperative of laying low, Mitsuru was happy to accept the travel arranged by Perez and his wife.
Her plane was about to land in Mexico City.
Mitsuru pushed her shoulders back and stretched her neck from side to side, her body aching from the virtually nonstop flights.
She had arrived in Paris two evenings ago and had been welcomed at the airport by Josue Perez and his wife Marcella (the saucy cook from Poco Hermasillo). Their niece, Emilia was still at school. After greeting the couple, Mitsuru had asked if they might take her to see an old acquaintance. They seemed puzzled by the request, but happy to oblige.
In fact, before she had left Port Island, Mitsuru had contacted a former professor whom she had bonded with during her university days in Paris. The professor taught business and practiced law, but most importantly, he could be trusted with a secret. Mitsuru explained this to the Perez family gently before asking them to sign documents which would designate Josue Perez the Executor of the Kirijo Estate.
Perez and his wife had exchanged stunned looks at this appeal.
Mitsuru assured the couple that while there would be some kinks to work out in the the event of her death, Mitsuru's Japan-based lawyer as well as her associate in Paris would handle the logistics.
"You may trust that your company will be safely guarded. However. . . is there no one else you can entrust with this duty, my dear?" Josue had pressed.
No one, Mitsuru had answered.
"I know I have no right to ask you for this," Mitsuru had added. "But it is critical that my friends are removed from whatever repercussions follow in the wake of my death. They must not be put in jeopardy."
The couple was silent for a moment as they again exchanged somber glances.
"I sincerely hope to never assume the responsibility that you have honored me with. However, if the circumstance befalls us . . . your loved ones will want to know the truth," Josue Perez had said gravely.
"Whether you protect from the truth," Mitsuru had replied. "Or protect from the consequences of truth, it won't matter. I only ask for your family's goodness and strength to shield those most dear to me. I trust your judgement, Mr. Perez; Mrs. Perez."
Josue had signed the documents presented by Mitsuru's trusted confidante with the solemn oath that he would do all in his power to protect Mitsuru's S.E.E.S. allies. They returned to the Perez's home where Marcella soon filled the walls of their quaint apartment with the aroma of tostadas, chicharron, and churros.
After dinner, Josue Perez had provided Mitsuru with details about Alejandro's activities in Agua Prieta. The two only rested from their information session when Emilia had interrupted to ask if she could braid Mitsuru's hair.
The next morning, under the careful watch of Marcella, Mitsuru savored a breakfast of atole and tamales while Emilia practiced her French. Josue delivered Mitsuru to the airport with misty eyes.
"I am indebted to you, Kirijo-san," he had murmured, clutching her hand firmly.
Mitsuru had affirmed her allegiance to Josue and his family before correcting him. She would never be able to completely absolve the Kirijo Group for its role in the heinous crimes in Mexico and Lebanon, but she could take the first steps to stop the activities of a few rogue members.
At that point, Josue had given her a small, woven bracelet. It was made by Emilia, but she had apparently been too shy to give it to Mitsuru herself.
"You stick out, boss."
Exhausted, Mitsuru had no response to Alejandro's greeting inside the international arrivals gate. She blinked back at him silently as he handed her a plastic bag. Inside she found a baseball cap, a pair of jeans, a plain white shirt, and a pair of tennis shoes.
Mitsuru had the good sense not to argue, but when she emerged from the bathroom stall and faced her reflection in the mirror, she couldn't help but sigh in defeat. The shirt was at least two sizes too big, and the jeans weren't a much better fit.
She just needed a two-handed katana, and she would be a mirror image of Junpei Iori.
Thankfully, Alejandro said nothing about her drastically changed appearance as he led her to a battered sedan in the sun-drenched parking lot.
"Try to rest," Alejandro said to Mitsuru as he opened the backseat door for her. "It's a long drive."
Mitsuru did not have try. As soon as her head touched the backseat, sleep came to her fast and heavy.
"The dead can see the future, you know."
Shinjiro Aragaki stood next to her on the beachfront property of Yakushima Manor in a navy shirt and long pants, his hair loosely gathered in a ponytail. The waves crashed with a dull roar into the sand as they followed the rising sun in mutual silence.
Mitsuru turned to him as he continued to squint his eyes against the steady climb of the sun.
"It's not like looking down from the top of a mountain on a clear day," he explained. "More like driving a car that's suddenly at the top of a hill. Your stomach is filled with this sick, light airy feeling as you drop down, but you get a quick glimpse of what's coming before it folds out in front of you."
Mitsuru turned away from him and began to walk along the beach, hugging herself from the chill and basking in the warm light at the same time.
His footsteps padded along in the sand behind her.
"I have to do this, Shinjiro," she said above the sound of the waves, her eyes cast out over at the ocean. "It's not just about my family's legacy anymore. . . I have to do it because it's the right thing to do."
"I know you, Mitsuru," Shinjiro said. Mitsuru stopped and turned around.
"I know what you're planning to do," he continued. "I know you won't stop until you've done what you think is right. But you need to know there are consequences for every action," Shinjiro concluded, sauntering toward her.
"I'm fully aware of that," Mitsuru responded softly, looking away quickly.
"I'm not talking about your job, moron. I'm talking about your life," Shinjiro balked, fearlessly nudging her shoulder. She simply glowered down at the shore.
"Let me lay this out real simple for you," Shinjiro resumed softly, crossing his arms and meeting Mitsuru face-on.
"If you go there and you die alone in some god forsaken desert, you're going to have face me. Don't get me wrong, you're always welcome here, but on a temporary basis. If I see you here in a more permanent way," Shinjiro took a menacing step toward her.
"You and I are going to have a real problem."
Mitsuru turned away from him and closed her eyes as the ocean breeze combed her hair.
"If by some miracle, you live," Shinjiro continued with a grim smile, his voice no less serious than before. "You're gonna to have to face him. I gotta say, if I were faced with those prospects, death would be looking mighty kind."
"Claiming to be 'nice' now, Shinjiro? This is indeed a strange dream," Mitsuru said mildly, kneeling down to brush the sand away from buried shell. He crouched down next to her and Mitsuru watched as he took his time smoothing his fingers over the shell's every edge and point.
"Oh, Aki's still plenty nice," Shinjiro said finely. "Just until someone he cares about is in danger."
She didn't reply. Instead, Mitsuru stood up and waded into the water, embracing the strength she felt swelling in her heart as she marched toward the sun.
"I'm not afraid," she stated softly, her eyes closed. "Besides, you're exaggerating. Akihiko chose to follow his own path. The path I take is no concern of his."
"How long's it been now?"
The water sloshed as Shinjiro appeared next to her.
"Eleven years," Mitsuru murmured, understanding his question immediately.
"Time flies," Shinjiro whistled, kicking his feet around in the water. "And yet, here we are. Me, still a foul-mouthed asshole and you still a blind, stubborn idiot."
"Your point being?" Mitsuru said impatiently.
"The point being, Mitsuru, is that time is moot when it comes to our ragtag group of misfits. Don't get me wrong, I mean, you've obviously aged horribly. What are you now, fifty? Sixty?"
Mitsuru made a very unladylike scoff and kicked a wave of water in Shinjiro's direction, causing him to snort. Shinjiro looked over to her contemplatively.
"After watching you idiots in the Abyss of Time, I realized. . . we're all of us bound to each other, Mitsuru. Even if someone walks away, it's never long before the gravity of our bond pulls us back. Even death can't really separate us," Shinjiro said, moving a strand of Mitsuru's hair away from her eyes.
"You and Aki always had your own little version of that, except. . ." Shinjiro paused as he laughed vibrantly. Mitsuru squeezed her eyes shut and felt an ache in her heart when she realized how long it had been since she'd heard him laugh.
If she was feeling this way, it wouldn't be long before she woke up.
"It was different. . . Like you two were a pair of damn magnets. Pulling each other in or pushing each other away. It could be a real riot to watch when you guys were in a pushing phase. In the end, no matter how long it took or how far apart you were, you always came back to each other."
Shinjiro slipped further into the ocean until the water reached his thighs. Mitsuru followed him watched as the water lapped against her hips.
"Aki left for his own reasons. Not very good reasons, but the point is . . ."
Shinjiro stopped to lick his lips, his eyes narrowing on Mitsuru.
"When he gets wind of what you're doing, Mitsuru, he's not going to just sit by. He'll be all the fist and fury that he was as an obnoxious teenager. He'll come for you. . . He'll find you. I seriously hope you're ready to handle him when that happens."
Mitsuru looked down and found herself suddenly in the hull of a small boat. Shinjiro was in front of her with one foot on the beach and his other foot on the rim of the boat.
"Time to wake up," Shinjiro said softly, pushing the boat from shore. Mitsuru found herself without a voice and could only look at her friend sadly as he raised his hand to her.
"Remember, Mitsuru," he warned slowly as the boat slowly drifted from the shore. "Live or die - You're in deep shit."
He turned away and began ambling along the beach as Mitsuru felt the tide rip her out to sea.
Mitsuru felt as though she were still swaying on a boat when they arrived in Hermasillo.
Alejandro had driven the whole time and had only stopped for fuel and water. Mitsuru suspected he was just as famished as she was, but neither of them were complaining.
Their safe house was a small apartment unit located above a local bar. Alejandro was on friendly terms with the owner, but said nothing else about it to Mitsuru as he led her through a backdoor and up a narrow staircase.
Alejandro illuminated the room by pulling on a small string. A card table and two folding chairs were set up in the corner and to the left, a leather sofa showing a few tears. The kitchen was stuffed into the back, looking more like a designer's afterthought than a necessity. A flowery apron was hung near the refrigerator and the sparse patch of counter space was occupied with a coffee maker and a few kitchen utensils. Mitsuru spotted doors to a bedroom and bathroom as she focused her eyes back to Alejandro.
"Do you need to rest?" she asked, gently depositing her bag on the ground. "I have some preliminary questions I need to ask you before we start and I'd like to go over a few things-"
"Eat first, boss," Alejandro stated listlessly as he donned the flowery apron in the kitchen. "Business later."
Mitsuru had reached the end of her abilities as polite guest and was not afraid to convey that sentiment to Alejandro through a deep sigh.
Her frustration was instantly dispelled when she took her first bite of Alejandro's freshly made sincronizadas. Mitsuru had two helpings before she sat back in her seat with a faint smile.
"You are a very talented chef."
A slight blush seemed to tinge Alejandro's cheeks as he stared back her.
"Your uncle told me that you believe the cartel will be transporting a number of children across the border soon. Is that correct?"
Alejandro nodded as he began to clear the dishes, still wearing the flowery apron. Mitsuru chose not to comment.
"We will need to get a more precise timeframe, but for now let's establish a list of objectives and deadlines. Now, you obviously have a list of agenda items you need to cover with me," Mitsuru remarked, reaching into her bag and pulling out a notebook and a pen. "But there are a few items I will need to pursue with you as well."
Mitsuru ripped out a piece of paper and began to write as Alejandro took his seat at the table.
"Here are my expectations," Mitsuru said, slipping the piece of paper over to Alejandro. He crossed his arms as his eyes roved over the paper. Alejandro looked back up at Mitsuru and nodded in consent.
"Now, if you could," Mitsuru passed him the notebook and the pen. "Write down your expectations-"
"You gotta shoot a gun and throw a punch, boss."
Mitsuru blinked.
"Is that all?"
"Basically," Alejandro deadpanned.
"Very well then," Mitsuru replied with a serious puff of breath. "Let's begin tomorrow morning. I'd like to start with my items in the morning and then address your . . . curriculum. Is that agreeable?"
Alejandro had no qualms, but their first professional disagreement came shortly after when Mitsuru insisted that Alejandro sleep on the bed.
"That loveseat is half your size," Mitsuru admonished Alejandro as he towered over her nervously. "It is unacceptable for you to sleep there."
It may have been her imagination, but Alejandro seemed to puff out his chest.
"Auntie would kill me if I put you on the couch, boss."
"Your aunt is not here," Mitsuru reminded him, putting her hands on her hips. "You have been driving for twenty four hours with no rest. You need to be in top physical condition tomorrow if you're going to working with me."
Alejandro glowered at her, but Mitsuru could see he was failing to come up with a rebuttal. She drove a hard gaze back at him until he finally let out the tiniest sigh of defeat.
"You're the boss, boss."
Mitsuru nodded sternly.
They set out the next morning to a valley ridge between Hermasillo and Aguas Prieta.
Below them, a straight ribbon of black road went on for miles before disappearing over a hill. Previously, Alejandro and a few of his trusted allies had utilized guerrilla tactics to pick off members of the cartel on this route, which would explain the rather random pattern of targets that had been eliminated.
Mitsuru didn't necessarily disapprove of the strategy, but she wasn't here to target the buyers. She needed to launch an assault that would draw the worrying eye of a seller.
The terrain was concerning, though. The lack of twists and turns in the road and the sparse, open desert meant exposure, so a surprise attack would need to be carefully executed with a few contingencies in place.
"What are you thinking, boss?"
Mitsuru crossed her arms as she squinted at the low rise of the hill at the end of the road.
"Sniper here," she said, digging her heel into the dirt. "Ballistics and drivers on the ground."
Above them, a hawk dove after an invisible prey.
"Got a few people who can do the job," Alejandro murmured with a subtle nod. "Shouldn't be hard to recruit folks once they hear the target's the cartel."
Mitsuru mulled over the barren landscape before crossing her arms.
"Let's get to work."
During the next week, Mitsuru and Alejandro fell into a carefully scheduled routine.
Mitsuru had not been able to negotiate Alejandro into sleeping in the bedroom on a more permanent basis, but she suspected Alejandro preferred the loveseat since it allowed him to start cooking breakfast undisturbed at an early hour. On some days, Mitsuru thought she heard the sounds of a deep soulful voice softly singing, but she had never been able to catch him in the act.
She would emerge from the tiny bedroom every morning and find Alejandro ironing a white button-up shirt. He owned no other pieces of clothing.
Before the sun rose, Alejandro would serve Mitsuru a breakfast of eggs and tortillas. Mitsuru was not allowed to ask questions about the cartel until after she had finished breakfast.
"Eat first," Alejandro would say in his flowery apron. "Business later."
Mitsuru soon stopped trying to fight Alejandro's sole ground rule. After breakfast, they would drive out to the ridge and brainstorm ideas for potential attack routes. They would lay low among the shrubs and rocks to ensure they were not seen by any enemy that might happen to drive by.
"Cartel's cocky," Alejandro informed her as she scanned the road below with a pair of binoculars one morning.
No one stood up to them, so they worried little about being targeted. Their biggest concern were rival drug lords, but Mitsuru wasn't ready to play that angle quite yet. They were only allowed one surprise attack - any subsequent assault would need to be painstakingly undertaken.
After a few hours of carefully mapping the terrain, they would move on to marksmanship and hand-to hand combat. Of the two activities, Mitsuru found the latter to be her least favorite. Sparring with Akihiko had always been enjoyable because he had never held back with her. Even when she was recovering from her motorcycle crash, if she wanted a sparring partner, she always got Akihiko at his best.
Alejandro, on the other hand, was a gentle and immovable giant dead set on making Mitsuru work for every punch. Even when she was trying to throw him to the ground, Mitsuru got the impression she was nothing but a little fly that Alejandro was batting away.
"How am I supposed to get anything from these lessons if you won't commit fully to the exercise?"
"I ain't afraid of anything you're doing, boss," Alejandro explained with a shrug. "Make me feel threatened and I'll commit."
Alejandro, sensing her frustration, would bring in a few weights for her to resume her training with before they moved on to their next exercise.
If Mitsuru wanted a sniper for the job, she had to learn how to use a sniper rifle as well as a short range handgun. This was the point that Josue Perez had made during Mitsuru's initial meeting and was easily driven in by Alejandro.
Mitsuru proved to be an above average marksman and was encouraged by Alejandro's hands-off approach. The sniper rifle was her greatest challenge, but Alejandro reminded her that she just needed to know how to set up, load, and account for changes in wind direction. Once she knew the weapon, she could familiarize herself with the appropriate skill set needed to operate it.
After target practice, they would return back to the safe house where Alejandro would prepare dinner. He always cooked something different, and Mitsuru found herself eagerly anticipating his delectable creations. They would go to bed early, and the next morning, Mitsuru would find Alejandro ironing the same white shirt as the morning before.
One morning, Mitsuru woke to find Alejandro's ironing board unattended.
Mitsuru looked out her window and spotted Alejandro conversing quietly with a short young woman with wild and flowing black hair. When he returned, she looked at him with a questioning glance and a subtle smile.
"Stop smiling, boss," Alejandro said immediately, his large arms held to out his side defensively.
Mitsuru raised her eyebrows.
"I'm not smiling," she said simply, breaking into a grin.
"Picked up some info," Alejandro changed the subject quickly. "Cartel's on the move."
"When?" Mitsuru pressed.
"First week of November. They'll have about sixteen, give or take a few."
Sixteen children. Mitsuru's stomach churned at the thought as she sat down at the freshly cleared card table. Alejandro caused the table to squeak as he braced his arms against the sides.
"Time to shop, boss?"
Mitsuru placed her chin in her hand and frowned thoughtfully.
"Dossiers first," she shook her head. "I'm ready to start vetting applicants. While I'm doing that, I need you to find out whatever you can on their transport. Year, make, model, and any modifications they may have made to the vehicle."
He nodded to her with a determined frown.
Alejandro gently deposited a mound of documents along with a mug of tea in front of Mitsuru before leaving the safe house. When he returned a few hours later, Mitsuru had organized the stacks into two separate piles.
"I've made my selections," she informed Alejandro as he filled the folding chair opposite her. "Though I have a few questions."
Mitsuru laid out two photos on the table.
"Do these two come together or separately?"
Alejandro barely looked down.
"Always together, boss."
"How fast can they ride?"
Alejandro's crinkled forehead furrowed even deeper.
"Fast."
"You've clocked them? Remember, we have a very narrow window of opportunity," Mitsuru emphasized. "They need to be ready to hit a speed of over 100mph on a very short track."
Alejandro nodded and then shrugged.
"Self-report, boss. References are hard to come by in these parts."
"That will suffice for now," she responded, pushing the papers toward Alejandro. "I'll clock them myself."
"As for our sniper," Mitsuru paused as Alejandro stiffened in his chair. She eyed him curiously before reaching for the photo.
"The choice is obvious."
Alejandro groaned when he looked at the picture. Surprised, Mitsuru leaned forward on the table and searched Alejandro's expression.
"She is the best," Mitsuru reasoned, perplexed. "You must agree, otherwise you wouldn't have submitted her profile."
"She's the best," Alejandro muttered, looking away.
Mitsuru glanced down at the photo again, eyebrows knit. A second look was all she needed. Mitsuru leaned back and successfully veiled the smile tickling her lips.
"Alejandro, do you have a conflict of interest with this woman?"
Alejandro's head jerked back to Mitsuru, eyes wide.
"That ain't it, boss-"
"This is the woman you were speaking to this morning, correct?"
"Yeah, but it's not like that."
"Then be clear about your grievance with her," Mitsuru urged. "Articulate yourself."
Alejandro sighed.
"She's a pain. She's got an attitude."
"Does she have difficulty taking direction?"
"Only when it comes from a man," Alejandro grumbled.
Her previously veiled smile surfaced, and Mitsuru had to look away and purse her lips to keep from chuckling. She contained her amusement enough to look Alejandro in the eye.
"Since I will be issuing orders, I don't see the problem. If she takes issue with something you say, kindly remind her that I said it. Am I going to have a problem from her?"
"You won't have a problem, boss," Alejandro relented, and he seemed to struggle crossing his arms over his broad chest. "Just me."
December
Akihiko stifled a shiver as the freezing rain drove against his umbrella. He looked over to Aigis, who was speaking to a young parisienne on the opposite corner of the street. He checked his phone absently, re-reading the message from Fuuka informing him that she had dispatched Yukari and Junpei to one of the Mexican restaurants identified by Aigis.
Aigis had almost immediately relieved Akihiko of his role of questioner after he'd fired off round after round of inquiries on the hapless manager of the previous restaurant. Forget good cop bad cop, Aigis had essentially told him. Akihiko was being too aggressive.
With one lead thoroughly scratched one off their list, they set out to find Poco Hermasillo. It was a bit off the beaten trail, hence Aigis asking for a bit of direction from the locals.
Akihiko's patience was beginning to wane.
With none of his usual resources available, Akihiko was reaching a limit to what he could do with old-fashioned detective work. Lack of time only made Akihiko's lack of resources all the more frustrating.
He'd called Kurosawa just a few moments ago to inform him that he'd be taking some of his vacation time, but from the way his mentor had sighed, Akihiko knew that his half-truth would only work for so long. Soon, the others would need to return to their lives in Japan. Whatever happened next, Akihiko would need to figure it out on his own.
Aigis jogged up to him.
"I apologize. My navigation features do not work well in inclement weather. Our destination is two blocks north."
"Let's go," Akihiko said tersely.
"Perhaps you should leave the initial questioning to me," Aigis suggested brightly, easily keeping pace with Akihiko's long strides.
"Careful, Aigis," Akihiko swallowed a disgruntled noise as it formed in his throat. "You're starting to hurt my feelings."
"I'm sorry, Akihiko-san," Aigis said woefully.
Akihiko almost told Aigis that it was a joke, but decided against it out of annoyance.
"I was simply trying to follow your advice from earlier this morning. Let's play to our strengths," she continued, gently tugging Akihiko to a stop. He looked at her with a weary frown.
"Let's wait to bring out the big guns," she grinned.
Her smile was contagious and Akihiko found himself smiling in spite of himself.
"Yeah. Okay."
Poco Hermasillo was packed.
They crammed themselves into a space at the counter where Aigis struck up a conversation with a few regulars.
Soon, she and Akihiko learned that the restaurant was owned by a family from Mexico. Their pozole was the most authentic in Paris and the Tres Leches was in such high demand that if you didn't order the second the restaurant opened, you weren't likely to get any for the rest of the day.
Akihiko's gaze roamed the crowd as Aigis eagerly listened to the avid patrons list their menu recommendations.
The wait staff were difficult to pick out among the horde of people, but Akihiko's eyes eventually found a little girl in a pink taffeta dress and a white apron zipping from table to table, the tray in her arm laden deep with soups and soft tortillas.
Akihiko nudged Aigis.
"Pink dress, twelve o'clock."
Aigis looked over and nodded before raising her arm to get the girl's attention.
She bounced over as soon as she emptied her tray and began pulling straws and silverware out of her apron.
"Bienvenidos, señorita and señor. Our special today is with pork enchiladas with a side of refried beans and rice. Would you care for some our homemade horchata today?" her carefully rehearsed words caused Aigis to smile warmly and even Akihiko had to look away in order to stay stony-faced.
"We would like two glasses of horchata, please," Aigis said. "But before we order lunch, may I ask you a question?"
The little girl looked up at Aigis and nodded mutely.
Aigis reached into the inside pocket of her rain jacket and retrieved a miniature version of the photo of Fuuka, Aigis, Yukari, and Mitsuru along the Champs-Elysées. Akihiko watched the girl's reaction carefully as Aigis pointed to Mitsuru in the photo.
"La princesa!" The girl exclaimed instantly, looking up at Aigis with fresh eyes.
The girl seemed to sense she was under Akihiko's sudden and severe gaze. She began to shrink back, eyes wide with fright when Aigis abruptly stepped on Akihiko's foot to break his stare. The little girl looked back to Aigis and opened her mouth to speak-
"Emilia! Order up."
A short woman in a white apron appeared suddenly behind the counter. The little girl clutched her tray close to her chest as she scuttled away to the kitchen.
The woman eyed Akihiko and Aigis suspiciously before giving them a thin smile.
"Pardon my niece. She has a very active imagination. Can I help you?"
Aigis nodded cautiously.
"We are looking for a friend of ours. We think she may have been here recently," Aigis said slowly, holding out the picture to the woman.
She took the picture delicately and studied it for a few long moments.
"Sorry," she said tonelessly, handing the photo back to Aigis. "Haven't seen her."
Akihiko pinned her with a disinterested glare. She stared back at him unflinchingly.
"Can I put in an order for you?" She asked him coolly.
"Tres Leches," Akihiko responded evenly. "If there's any left."
She gave him a quick once over before slinging a dish towel over her shoulder.
"Think you got the last one. Lucky you."
The woman delivered their horchatas and dessert to go, and Akihiko didn't bother asking any further questions as he dropped some cash on the counter. He collected the cake from the woman with a cold nod, but left the horchatas on the counter before stomping out of the restaurant and into the rain.
"Akihiko-san, wait," Aigis called after him, running to catch up to his quick stride. She popped an umbrella open over his head before handing him the handle.
"We didn't talk to any of the other-"
"No need," he replied darkly as Aigis opened her own umbrella. "Mitsuru was there. That kid's reaction said it all."
"But the woman-"
"Aigis, how long does it take for a person to identify someone they know?"
She paused, obviously disconcerted by the question.
"A few seconds, maybe longer depending on their recall-" Aigis answered.
"She looked at that photo for ten seconds, Aigis," Akihiko snapped. "She wasn't trying to remember if she knew Mitsuru. She was putting on a show of not knowing Mitsuru."
"Hey! Over here!"
Akihiko and Aigis looked sharply over to their left, where the little girl in the pink taffeta dress was beckoning them from under a nearby awning. They looked at each other before slowly approaching her hiding spot.
"I'll get in trouble if Aunt Marcella finds out I'm here," she whispered, looking around nervously. "So I can't stay here for long."
"You know our friend," Aigis said softly.
The little girl nodded.
"She came here with my big dumb brother."
"Please. . . Emilia, is it?" Aigis said, bending over slightly to meet the girl's wide eyed gaze. "We are worried that she might need our help. When did you see her last?"
The girl hummed in thought.
"We were just starting to serve pozole again, so October I think?"
Akihiko started pacing nearby, unable to reign in the feeling of helplessness that had clouded his mind all morning. What was Mitsuru doing here? Why was she talking to a couple of small time restaurant owners? What was their connection to the school in Mexico?
"She left for a while, but when she came back she stayed at our house," Emilia added.
The thoughts racing through Akihiko's head died quickly. He turned around and met the girl's innocent stare sternly.
"She came back?" he pressed her. Emilia looked back at him distrustfully before nodding slowly.
"A few days after she came here, she stayed with us at our house. She let me braid her hair. Uncle Josue says she's really important where she comes from. Is she really a princess?" Emilia asked, looking entreatingly to Akihiko.
Akihiko turned away, his stomach roiling.
"Did she tell you where she was going?" Aigis asked softly.
Emilia shook her head.
"Uncle Josue took her to the airport. They were talking a lot about Agua Prieta the night before. . ." Emilia trailed off and focused on her shoes.
"Is that where you're from?" Aigis asked.
Emilia nodded.
"I don't go there anymore," she said gravely. "But my brother Alejo goes there, sometimes. I think she's there with him."
"Why do you think that?" Akihiko asked brusquely.
"Princesses always go where they are needed the most," Emilia said exuberantly before reaching up to pat Aigis' shoulder. "Don't worry about la princesa, señorita. I made her a bracelet to protect her from the bad men."
Without another word, she disappeared down an adjacent alleyway and left Akihiko and Aigis alone in the rain.
After having Junpei identify the Tres Leches as the same cake he shared with Mitsuru on their last night in Paris, Akihiko briefed the group on their findings. Then, he informed them that they would be returning to Port Island.
"But. . . you said Mitsuru-senpai is in Mexico," Fuuka said.
Akihiko squared his shoulders.
"You're going back to your lives in Japan," he clarified. "I'm going to Mexico to find Mitsuru and bring her back."
The group was once again, less than amenable.
"You're sending us home?" Yukari hissed, her hair still soaked from the rain. "Who are you, our mother?"
"We did not discuss these terms, Akihiko-san," Aigis chimed in, sounding slightly irritated.
"You're going alone?" Fuuka added with worry. "I really don't think you should go without-"
"Okay, senpai," Junpei nodded at Akihiko with a serious frown.
The room grew still as the group fell into a stunned silence. Once again, all eyes were on Junpei.
"Look, just think about this for a minute, guys," Junpei explained, blushing slightly. "If all five of us in this room head down to Mexico, we're going to turn some heads - and that won't help us find senpai. Let's be smart about it this, okay?"
Akihiko smiled appreciatively at Junpei as the others absorbed his words.
"We need to think about how we can help find Mitsuru-senpai from Port Island," Junpei concluded.
"You're right," Yukari groaned at length, causing Junpei to gasp in surprise.
"We need to keep an eye on things from home," she continued, shooting Junpei a deathly glare. "If the Kirijo Group has something to do with senpai's disappearance, we have to be nearby to step in if the situation calls for it."
"I agree, but," Fuuka protested amicably. "Akihiko-senpai should not be going to the Mexican border alone. It's very dangerous, especially if they find out you're a policeman, senpai."
Akihiko chewed on the insides of his mouth. He hadn't even considered that element. He subconciously looked to Aigis, who was peering at him thoughtfully.
"I will go with you, Akihiko-san," she said calmly, her previous irritation gone. "We make an excellent team."
He sighed, and despite a nagging urge to argue with her and send her back to Port Island with the rest of his friends, his judgement as an officer of the law prevailed.
Every seasoned officer needed a partner to keep them in check.
Akihiko knew that the closer he came to the truth behind Mitsuru's disappearance, the shorter his fuse would become. Aigis leveled him out, forced him to slow down and speak kindly. He hated to admit it, but he needed someone to keep him honest and focused until he found Mitsuru.
"All right, Aigis," Akihiko said, immediately spurring Fuuka to sigh with relief. "We'll catch the next flight out. The rest of you - contact us when you get back to Japan. I need you to keep an eye on Chihiro Fushimi. I'm sure the Kirijo Board has already chained her to her desk."
"What time is it?"
Akihiko's hand froze on the doorknob with a slight grimace. He'd taken care to dress quietly, but he obviously hadn't been quiet enough.
"Don't worry," Mitsuru said, appearing to have heard his thoughts. "I've been awake for a while now."
"It's almost five. You should rest," Akihiko said, twisting the handle. He heard her swing her legs over the bed and watched her silhouette as she stretched.
"Are you going for a run?" She asked.
"Yeah," he said hoarsely "I want to try to beat the sun."
"I'll join you."
Along the coast bordering the Kirijo Family Estate at Yakushima, Akihiko and Mitsuru ran in the darkness of the early morning hour with Koromaru keeping pace for them ahead.
The Ioris were vacationing in Singapore and Mitsuru had told them to leave Koromaru with her while they were away.
The kidnapping attempt had followed shortly after.
Almost a week had passed since Akihiko had taken her home from the hospital, but Mitsuru still wasn't acting quite like herself and Akihiko still wasn't sure how to talk to her without sounding like a cop. In her public life, she was just as strong willed and vociferous as ever.
In the private life she shared with Akihiko, she appeared brittle and vulnerable. He had to wait for her, Akihiko told himself when she would drift off during dinner or request to walk Koromaru alone. If Akihiko pushed her too hard to communicate, it would only satisfy Akihiko's ego at the cost of Mitsuru's pride.
A few days ago, Mitsuru had asked Akihiko if he would join her at Yakushima.
"No staff," she quickly added. "Just the three of us."
He couldn't help but be excited to say yes.
Now, as they moved steadily along the abandoned shoreline together as a unit, Akihiko felt the need to bring up the issue of Mitsuru's safety. She needed to act, he thought to himself. There was obviously something hindering her if she wasn't taking preventative measures to protect herself with a security detail. She could talk to him, Akihiko rehearsed to himself. She could trust him.
Koromaru barked at him sharply.
Akihiko was shaken back to reality. He looked over to find Mitsuru not at his side. He looked back and saw her, dropped to the ground with her head between her knees.
"Mitsuru!" he shouted as he broke into a full on sprint.
"What is it?" Akihiko asked, only a little breathless as he dropped down in front of her and grasped her uninjured shoulder in one hand and the back of her neck with the other.
"Shit, I'm sorry, I was worried you hadn't recovered enough, but I didn't want to say anything-"
She lifted her head and met his gaze. In the dawning light, Akihiko could see the unfallen tears in her eyes.
"I'm sorry, Akihiko," she whispered, shaking her head and biting her lip. "I- I don't know what's wrong with me, I just keep thinking about-"
Her breath hitched with emotion and Mitsuru looked away quickly.
"Mitsuru," Akihiko murmured. The intense anxiety triggered by his helpless position almost caused him to feel anger, but faced with Mitsuru's obvious fear and distress, he only felt the need to hold her.
"I keep thinking about it," she hissed under her breath as the tears finally began to fall. "I was so stupid, so idiotic. I could have reacted better, I could have been faster-"
"Mitsuru, stop it," Akihiko reproached her gently, his hands firm on her shoulder and neck. "None of this is your fault, okay? Someone tried to hurt you. You reacted appropriately and saved your own life. Those men will face the full extent of the law, I promise."
She shook her head, the tears still falling. Akihiko felt himself growing more agitated. He wasn't helping, God, he was only making things worse.
"If I had only turned a second sooner," Mitsuru whispered. "None of this would be happening."
Akihiko cocked his head at her, allowing himself to stroke her arm.
"What? What's happening, Mitsuru? Talk to me," he said gently when she looked away.
Mitsuru took a deep breath.
"The Board. . . The Board wants me to hire a bodyguard. . . Or-"
"You should do that, Mitsuru," Akihiko rushed to interrupt her. "You need someone looking out for you, someone more level-headed than me," he added sardonically.
Mitsuru stared at him, and Akihiko thought he saw a flash of pain in her eyes. Mitsuru shook her head.
"I can't, Akihiko. Think of the message it would send-"
"What? Take another step and I'll execute you and he'll get rid of your body? I can break your face and so can this guy? What sort of message are you worried about here?"
"The message that I'm afraid," Mitsuru said, her voice rising. "The message that I can't live my life without someone watching over me, that I can't move without someone else's consent. I have worked for the last eight years to live independently of watch dogs, to choose who I-"
She fell silent, overwhelmed by another wave of tears.
Akihiko took a deep breath and did something he would have never done in high school.
He said nothing.
Instead, Akihiko pulled Mitsuru into his arms and stroked her hair while she wept. Beside them, Koromaru emitted a soft whine before curling up next to Mitsuru and laying his head in the sand.
"Akihiko-san."
Akihiko gasped as he lurched forward in his seat. The landing caught him off guard, and Aigis braced her arms against his shoulder to steady him.
Shit, he berated himself.
Akihiko covered his face with his hands as the realization hit.
She was going to tell him everything, but he had interrupted her. That morning on the beach, Akihiko had stopped listening after he heard the word 'bodyguard' escape Mitsuru's lips. If he had just kept his mouth shut, she would have told him about the Board's alternative, and he could have proposed right then and there-
"We have arrived in Tuscon, Arizona, USA," Aigis said, eagerly looking out the window of the plane.
Akihiko let out an involuntary sigh, shivering from the cold sweat on his skin.
"What time is it?" he mumbled, gratefully accepting as Aigis passed him a bottle of water.
"11:30 p.m., December 31st," she said with a slight smile. "Tomorrow is a new year."
