Ah, sorry for being a bit late. Arait and Kateracks were concerned with really transitioning properly in this chapter and having the right ending. Hope you like it.
As a forewarning, this chapter does contain references and mention of MATURE content from Azami's past (such as drugs, rape, and prostitution). Nothing is described graphically. Just be advised allusions are made. If you do not feel comfortable with it, please skip to the next chapter.
As the boys were collecting themselves and making their way into the room, Azami gimped herself back to her bed and climbed aboard with a wince. There was a beat of silence once she was settled as she looked the two males over with a scrutinizing eye and then told them to come closer via a beckoning finger. Yata stepped obligingly to her side, thinking she may need some sort of assistance.
"That's a nice shiner you got growing there," she grumbled to him. Yata opened his mouth to place blame, but quicker than he could get the words out, the Green Girl grabbed the ice pack she had been using for her hip from the bedside tray and slapped it roughly against the swollen side of his face. Yata cried out when a shock of pain raced from the top of his head to the base of his neck, but she ignored him and growled, "What the hell are you two doing? This is a hospital! There are sick and injured people here trying to rest!"
The boys pointed at each other and stated simultaneously, "It's his fault."
"I don't care!" she hissed in return. "Do you have any idea—" Abruptly thinking better of following that line of thought because it would put her back to that afternoon when she was pinned in the car, she threw up her hands instead. "Will you two just chill out and be quiet so I can get some sleep?"
Deciding he liked the cold it provided despite the harsh way it was presented to him, Yata pressed the ice pack against his bruised skin and slumped into the chair at her side, inquiring, "Are you really gonna be able to sleep? I'm still wired."
She slid down under the covers and folded her arms. The bed was still at a gentle sitting position so she certainly didn't appear ready for slumber. "I dunno. Probably not. But I could try if you two could be in the same room without trying to start a fire." She shot Fushimi a pointed look.
The Blue Clansman clicked his tongue quietly and looked out the window into the hallway, muttering, "None of us would be here if not for you. Why don't you tell us what happened?"
"I don't remember all of it," she began when the door unexpectedly swung open and the on-call doctor for the night entered.
She looked in surprise at the new additions to the room and then zoned in on the bruising on Yata's face. Her lips parted in confusion and then formed the question, "Are any of you immediate family?" There was a unanimous shaking of heads in reply and then the medical professional's cool demeanor took an abrupt turn; she immediately ushered the boys toward the exit with, "You two need to leave right now."
"It's okay, doc, it was just a misunderstanding," Azami piped up, but the physician wouldn't have it.
She motioned two nurses in to escort the boys out and announced, "We aren't going to let any outsiders in this room for the moment."
"Hey, wait…!" the patient voiced.
The doctor gestured to Anna. "You, too, sweetheart. Just for a little while."
Though they complied, the three still protested in their own ways once in the hall, Yata being the loudest when he demanded "What's the big idea?!" right before the door closed once more.
Baffled, Azami stared at them out the window until one of the nurses drew the curtain, shutting out the light of the hall. The girl felt suddenly trapped among them and her muscles coiled in preparation for if she should need to escape. She met the doctor's eyes.
"Why did they have to leave?" she asked in a low tone.
"Can you remember what happened to you before the car wreck today?" the physician queried.
Azami sighed. "Not any more than the last time you asked me. Why?"
"We got your lab results back. We did some extra analysis to be sure, but the results are positive—you were drugged Hayashi-san."
The patient's mouth dropped open. "I—huh?"
"That explains your amnesia and why you are so lethargic."
"Are you sure it's not just a concussion?" Azami asked incredulously.
"That also is still a possibility, but the lab results are conclusive. Do you know anyone who would have wanted to do this to you?"
"No!"
The doctor nodded her head decisively. "That is why we are not allowing anyone to visit you right now."
"But they wouldn't drug me!" the girl insisted, gesturing to the window where she knew her friends were still waiting on the other side of the curtain.
"Do you know that for sure?" asked one nurse.
"Yes!"
"Unfortunately, we see this all too commonly, Hayashi-san. These cases happen most often between the victim and someone they're familiar with," the second nurse explained. She appeared older than the first and therefore more seasoned which led Azami to believe she knew exactly what she was talking about; a sick feeling started to develop in her stomach.
To steel herself, she replied with certainty, "They wouldn't do that."
The hospital personnel still looked unsure and Azami grew more nervous with each passing second that they debated through looks shared with each other without ever saying a word. Clearly, they had worked a lot of these cases together, saw the denial of the victims, and revealed the cold, hard truth to far too many innocent people. The girl in the bed no longer wanted to be alone with these women; she wanted a familiar face to be at her side after all the overwhelming—probably partially criminal—events of the day. Then something occurred to her.
"Look, at least let Fushimi come back in. He's a police officer." The orderlies looked to the doctor for her opinion, and Azami pressed, "Seriously, ask him. I'm sure he's got his ID."
The doctor pursed her lips as she mused over the words and then inquired, "Are you consenting for us to share your medical information? This is confidential, after all."
Azami nodded without giving the question too much thought as a feeling of moderate desperation began to grow within her. Her legs were twitching restlessly, eager to run and put as much distance between herself and the hospital as possible. In that moment, she'd do whatever it took to be on her way to making that happen.
The doctor spoke to the older nurse, "We'll have her sign the release of information," and then gave the go-ahead to the young nurse who was closest to the door. She went out into the hall, returning a second later with a perplexed Fushimi in tow.
"Hayashi-san tells us you're on the police force," the physician prompted once the door was closed again.
Fushimi gave the Green Girl a look of questioning, but seeing that her face had gone pale, he withdrew his PDA from his pocket and held it out for the staff to see the Scepter 4 badge. "Special Duty Corp, fourth annex."
The doctor inspected the insignia and nodded her approval. "We have a situation, officer. Hayashi-san has requested your presence in this matter."
Fushimi passed her another look, trying his best to hide the majority of his surprise. She had requested him, called for his aid for the second time in the span of not even 24 hours. It was beyond was he had anticipated; he preferred not to think of it as being more than simple necessity. Nonetheless, he nodded for the physician to continue.
"Given Hayashi-san's incomplete recall and bruises on her body reminiscent of grab marks, I ordered some lab tests in addition to our usual panel. Upon reading the results, it was confirmed that she has traces of Flunitrazepam, or what is commonly referred to on the streets as a 'roofie', in her system. We believe this is a large contributor to her amnesia over last night's events. It is our protocol in these situations to offer to inform the authorities and do a rape kit if the patient gives their permission. If the kit comes back negative—"
"And it will," Azami interjected.
Both the physician and Fushimi gave her a look of surprise, and then the provider continued, "If that's the case, it is up to the police to conduct a further investigation." There was a pause to allow this information to soak in and then, "If everyone is in agreement, I suggest we begin now as it is quite late."
The older nurse approached the girl's bed with a clipboard. "This top form is to obtain your consent for the testing. The second is the release of information so we can share what we acquire today with the authorities. We need your signature on both."
Azami hesitated a moment, pretending to read the fine print and twirling the pen around between her fingers. Already she was beginning to regret her impetuous mouth; she really didn't want to get prodded anymore today—not this way, not in front of Fushimi. She hated these places and she just wanted them to be cleared to take her home. But the hospital staff were going to make her stay anyway, at least until they were sure her condition was satisfactory for discharge, so maybe her cooperation would put them all at ease.
She signed her name.
Already the tension lessened just a fraction since she didn't put up a fuss, and the doctor's demeanor again changed, her squared shoulders relaxing just a bit and her tone taking on a kinder quality. She looked over the instructions in the kit and decided, "We're going to change the process a little. We've already collected most of your past medical history when you were brought into the emergency room. We also bagged your clothes at that time so we'll just have to make sure they are tested for evidence."
Azami looked begrudgingly at the hospital gown they had given her to wear as an alternative while the nurse scribbled notes. She had insisted from the time she had arrived that the design of the outfits were stupid and that they give her a second gown to cover up her backside. She had lost enough of her dignity for one day.
To Fushimi the physician said, "There was also a record made of the incident surrounding the car accident, but nothing before that. Let's start there, Hayashi-san."
"Not much to add," Azami replied. "The last thing I remember was climbing into bed. Next thing I know, I'm waking up with my face in the dirt at the bottom of a ravine."
"The clothes we collected are not your pajamas, I assume."
Azami shook her head. "No."
"Then at some point you must have gotten up and changed or someone changed them for you."
Azami shrugged and supplied, "I don't know why anyone would bother to change a girl into something as under-dressed as black jeans if they were just going to rape her and dump her over a cliff. Sweatpants would do."
A faint "hmph," an expression of amusement, escaped Fushimi. He ducked his head toward his PDA more when the girl's eyes turned to him, acting like he was taking detailed notes. Hayashi's witty persona was making a quick recovery; that was a good sign.
The doctor somewhat ignored the comment but figured if she was being snappy then she was up for some more trying topics. "I don't want to sound callous, but considering the circumstances, I believe this to be a valid question: Before the events of today, were you sexually active?"
That wiped the faint smirk off of Azami's face and she looked to her lap, hair curtaining her expression as she answered, "Yes…I was." Maybe it wasn't a good idea to involve Fushimi in this after all.
Fushimi, for his part, felt the same way. With all of the muscle control he possessed in his neck, he kept his head from popping up out of shock. Misaki's crush—his former friend, Yata, Misaki, the boy who could hardly speak to girls and crashed his skateboard over lingerie ads—his female counterpart was not a virgin? This news would probably make the poor boy's head explode. Fushimi himself was rather proud that there was no falter in his typing on his PDA. It almost appeared as if he hadn't heard her at all.
The hospital staff went about their business. "Contraception?"
"No." The girl's answer was short and clipped. There was no way she could afford anything like birth control with no medical insurance, not that she needed any right now anyway.
That answer was a little more perturbing for the other women in the room, and they met each other's eyes, exchanging silent words once more. The doctor was the first to clear her throat and get back on track with a different angle. "How many partners have you had in the past six months?"
Azami felt a little relieved when she could abruptly change her hesitant response of "I don't know" to the first half of the question to a definite "None" by the end. Fushimi hadn't realized he had stopped typing at that point, but he quickly covered his interest with the physician's next inquisition.
"Do you have anyone you suspect who might have done this then? Anyone whose DNA we might find?"
"Still no. Hasn't changed in the past ten minutes," the patient responded in exasperation.
"Who was driving the car?" Fushimi spoke up.
Azami shrugged her good shoulder. "A guy passing by."
"Just one passenger other than you?" he clarified.
She nodded. "Figured it would be better that way if I needed to make an escape."
"What happened to him?"
"Hell if I know. He went to go get help while the car was still on solid ground. Never saw him again."
"This is in the medical report?" Fushimi affirmed with the young orderly who gave the affirmative. "I will need a copy of those notes."
"We'll have those prepared for you before you leave. We're going to do the physical evidence collection so we'll need you to step behind the curtain."
As if a well-trained gentleman, Fushimi moved out of the way with a slight bow of his head and put more intense focus on his PDA as the privacy curtain was drawn with the words, "Hayashi-san, we'll have you remove your gowns now."
Once out of sight, though, he leaned against the wall and glared death through his normally dead-fish-like eyes, no longer seeing the screen. Fushimi, Saruhiko was roiling inside. It wasn't a common occurrence, by any means, and it would have been quite unnerving if he had had an audience.
The various facts raced around his mind trying to find where they each fit into place, but he still couldn't make sense of much of Azami's tale. How honest was she truly being? Obviously, at least, she never would have gotten into the car with an unknown passerby. She was too wary of strangers to believe that statement. Then, was she protecting that person, or afraid of him? He had abandoned her, severely injured, and for what? To go get help, she had said. Why hadn't he called for help? She had.
What about her injuries that were older than the crash itself? As much as she insisted that none of the people she knew would do such horrible things to her, they had beaten the crap out of her, changed her clothes, and dumped her far outside the city. If they had used that drug, why wouldn't they have done what it was used for?
How did she know they hadn't? Did she have some memory of the event that she was deliberately withholding just like the identity of the driver? Was she in panicked denial? That didn't seem quite right. She actually knew somehow that she hadn't been assaulted in that way.
Fushimi's mind remained baffled by this puzzle he was unable to solve, but there was a different feeling in his chest. Something boiled like a fire, spreading outward with a deep voice that scowled, "Forget about the details, just burn them." He thought his feet might storm out the door right then and grab Misaki to declare war on the world. If at the end, only the three of them had survived, he wouldn't be upset in the least to stand in the remains.
Logic prevailed, though, and he reminded himself that he didn't even know who "they" were. He couldn't go after anyone until he had at least that much information. All he knew was there had been two incidents. Two of her "friends" had become enemies. While a jaded, damaged side of him scoffed, "Figures. Betrayal is inevitable," a well hidden, sincere side always got heated over these situations.
As it was, he was playing the role of Police Officer here, and it seemed Azami had only used that fact because she was too unsettled to handle this by herself. He had to be the one to maintain his calm. Shoving the easily excitable red aura back into the deepest part of his gut, therefore, he replaced it with a more recognizable layer of indifference as the older nurse pulled back the curtain, revealing the battered Green Girl resettled anxiously in her bed. Only in his eyes did a flicker of flame remain.
"We have all we require for now," the doctor informed him. "I will turn it in right away and we'll have the results as soon as possible so we can know how to proceed, though it may not be until later in the morning considering the hour."
Fushimi dipped his chin in understanding, and the staff left the room in a much calmer manner than they had entered, even informing the two in the corridor, "It's alright for you to go in now."
The new Red King and her skater clansman returned to the room, Yata so flummoxed by the situation that he really had no vocalizations to make other than "Damn doctors…" and he took a seat on a cushioned bench running along the wall parallel to the bed. Anna climbed up to sit next to him where she'd feel safe and comforted, given the vibes in the air. Once the noise of the hallway was again shut out by Fushimi, he turned and fixed Azami with a glare.
"What really happened?"
She straightened a little in the bed. Why was he looking at her that way? Wasn't she the victim?
"What are you talking about? I told you, and I told them what happened!"
"Situations like this happen most of the time with people you know. So who has a grudge?"
"I told you guys more than once that I don't know!"
Fushimi eyed her in wordless suspicion, calculating his next words.
"Grudge? Situations like what?" Yata blurted into the tense silence between them.
Azami looked at him with a mask pulled over her expression. Any mention of what they had suspected actually happened to her would probably make him throw up right before he stormed out of the hospital to burn anyone in sight. She settled for a less revealing, "Nothing."
Fushimi, however, was not so concerned with using tact against Yata's feelings. He replied with a blunt, "She was drugged."
Yata's eyes went to the size of saucers. "WHAT? By who?"
Azami face-palmed. "For shit's sake…"
"She knows, but she refuses to admit it."
"Oh please…" the girl groaned in mock pleading. "If you know my secret answer, please enlighten me so we can all know."
"Consider the facts: the last thing you remember is getting into your bed at your clan's base. You woke up in a forest with sedative drugs in your system and wearing clothes that could only be found in your own bedroom."
Azami seemed to begin to catch his drift. "So what? The Green Clan has a lot of people who aren't fond of what we do. It could have been remnants from the Black Clan bent on revenge or a random yakuza member!"
Speaking of her past, Yata inquired, "Really, Hayashi? You'd just follow a random yakuza member into the forest?"
They all knew she wasn't that stupid, but Azami didn't look ready to admit that Fushimi may have had a point so the Blue Clansman went on, "There are no defensive wounds, just those from the crash. That suggests you knew the person."
"That doesn't mean it was another Green Clansman! It could have been you—or him—for all I know!"
Yata sputtered in disgust for a second and then blurted, "Hell no, it wasn't me! I don't even know where to get that stuff!"
Fushimi saw an opportunity and seized it. "That's probably why you've never been with a woman."
The skater glared death and stabbed an accusing finger at the tech. "Maybe, but I bet you use it all the time!"
"Are you serious? You're going to try to keep score right now?" Azami interrupted them, indicating her current position, and Anna curled up next to Yata. "I know it wasn't you two, stop being such guys! I'm just saying your speculation has no solid ground."
"Doesn't it?" Fushimi retorted.
"No! The Green Clan are informants for the public! We don't try to kill people!"
Fushimi shared a look with the boy he had insulted only moments before that was far too obvious for the Green Girl to miss.
"You got something to say?" she demanded.
Yata glanced to his newfound King and then stared down at his hands when he admitted to her, "Hayashi, the Green Clan kidnapped Anna and tried to kill her after she became king."
A scoff passed Azami's lips and she jabbed, "You're losing it."
"It's true! Kusanagi-san and I went there to save her! We all were almost dead, right, Anna?"
The small girl nodded her head at the unpleasant memory, watching Azami's response to the new information very carefully.
"That's crazy!" she insisted stubbornly. "Souma-san would never—!"
Her words froze in her throat then. No, Souma-san wouldn't do something like that, but he wasn't the King, was he?
Azami burst through the doors to her King's office with a grinning Kazuki in tow and a quiet Shun trailing behind. Before either of her partners could steal her thunder, she announced, "We're home, Souma-san! Have we got a story for—"
She cut herself off and shut her mouth tightly. With wide eyes, the three clansmen noticed that their King had company—a young boy wearing a school uniform and a middle-aged gentleman in a long robe stood alongside a man in a strange wheelchair. The amount of green aura pulsing inside the room was energizing; causing her to tingle from toes to scalp, it was enough to make Azami giddy and unnerved all at the same time. Either these were high-ranking clansmen or Souma-san was having a very heated discussion with three offenders. She should not have been so informal.
All three of the new arrivals fell into hasty, awkward bows and the female apologetically voiced, "I-I—We're sorry, Your Highness, we didn't know you were in a meeting."
"It's quite alright," both Souma-san and the man in the wheelchair answered simultaneously.
There was a look exchanged between them and then Souma-san faced the confused clansmen. "It was somewhat unplanned. However, as you're here now, you might as well know…" He spoke to the man in the flashy wheelchair for a moment, "These are a few of the top informants from my division: Nakahara, Kazuki, Hayashi, Azami, and Shun. They do a good amount of gathering intel from street work." To the trio he gestured at the stranger and introduced, "This is the Green King, Nagare, Hisui."
Dumbfounded, Azami stood silent, her brows knitted and lips parted slightly in confusion; behind her, Kazuki whispered to Shun, "He's taking over for Souma-san? Can Kings retire?"
Souma-san smiled a little to himself, used to their behavior. "No, King's don't exactly retire. They can voluntarily step down from their throne. In this case, though, that is not needed. Narage-san has always been the King of the Green Clan."
All three reflected seriously on this revelation for a long silent minute while they studied their apparent king. His hair was a color very similar to Souma-san's, although it was more dark green than black and, whereas the older man's was long but styled, this twenty-something-year-old wore his in a haphazard mess directed off over his left eye, making him appear somewhat wild. That wasn't the only thing, however, as the more eye-catching aspect of his appearance was a long ashy green straightjacket that was tattered at the hems hanging near his bare feet. Nevertheless, despite his arms being bound, there was a glossy, high-tech control panel built into the chair around him. Maybe it was possible that he could have more control over them than they originally thought…
"If you have any thoughts, I would encourage you to speak them now," Souma-san prompted.
"So what you're saying is…" Azami spoke up slowly, a tiny sense of betrayal and dreaded realization starting to grow in her gut. "…that all this time I thought I was serving you as my King, I've been lied to."
"No, Azami," the man in question replied resolutely. "You have been serving under me. I am the head of the intelligence division and I have been standing in all this time as Nagare-san made me Acting King in his absence while he was away tending to other matters. I promise you, nothing will change between you and I."
That was a reassuring statement, but as Hisui's one visible, dusty blue eye turned back to her, her unease did not lessen as she was sure she saw a malicious glint flicker across it.
"Hey, yeah, what happened to that guy?" Yata asked, bringing her from her reverie.
"He's still there…but he's not the King…"
She took a cup of ice from the tray near the bed and sipped the cool runoff from the melting cubes, hiding that lost feeling she had developed behind the rim of the receptacle. Even though she spent most of the day getting waterlogged by rain and nearly drown in the ocean, she found she was suddenly very dry-mouthed.
"No, he never was," Fushimi confirmed. "For an informant, your lack of knowledge about your own clan is unsettling."
Yata sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. "How would any of those Greens even know that? The way they're set up, it's hard to tell who's a clansman, who's not, who's at the top, or who's even in charge. It's one big crap shoot."
Azami gave them dirty looks. "Yeah, I guess we're a bunch of scatterbrained mice in a maze just because we don't all wear the same stiff uniform or react in the same irrational violent manner like our leader, Suoh, Mikoto."
One could easily see Yata's face morph into an angry expression, ready to defend his former idol, but a small yet firm voice beat him to the punch.
"Don't insult Mikoto."
Azami felt a miniature heat wave wash over her hospital bed as the new Red King gave her a stern rebuke. She raised her hands defensively, not that it would have done much. "Sorry. That was uncalled for. My point is, even if you can't readily identify us, our operations are still organized." She looked to the Scepter 4 member present. "How do you know so damn much about the Green Clan anyway?"
Yata provided, "We've been dealing with JUNGLE for a long time. They've always been up to no good."
"JUNGLE?" Azami repeated in confusion. "You mean the online social gaming network?"
"Didn't you play it?"
Azami shook her head. "It was big in my middle school, and I watched some kids play it, but I never did. I…had a lot going on, remember?"
"How did you get your powers then?" Fushimi inquired.
The female frowned. "What do you mean? I passed a simulation from Souma-san with flying colors, and he gave them to me."
"That's…inconsistent," the tech responded thoughtfully.
"Huh?"
"People play JUNGLE to earn points and get higher ranks," said Yata.
"Sounds like a video game," the girl inputted sarcastically.
The skater ignored her and went on, "Once they get a certain number of points, they get powers."
"From a game?" Azami stated in amusement. "You guys really need to do some more research on us 'Greens'. Every one of the clansmen I've met have been real people, not avatars."
"Haven't you ever wondered who developed that game? It was your clan," Fushimi snapped, growing tired of her stubbornness.
"All of the missions in the game are designed so your King can get his nose into everyone's business," Yata added.
Fushimi scoffed. "How did you think they collected all their information? As if the knowledge base they have could have been due only to people like you investigating the city."
Unexpectedly, he was showered with ice chunks, and Azami gave him a glare. "Why didn't you think to say something, huh, smart guy? Maybe 'Hey, Azami, you're being used and lied to'?"
"As if you'd listen…" Fushimi muttered, shooting her a dirty look of his own and dusting the ice particles from his uniform.
"Maybe not—I'm still not convinced—but then I'd at least have food for thought when all this happened—" She spread her arms widely at the hospital room around them. "—instead of you just dumping on me."
"That's what you get for trusting in 'friends'," the sulky boy retorted.
The familiar fire at long last lit in Azami's eyes and she quipped, "I trusted you, didn't I?"
No amount of self-control could have hid the surprise that flitted across his face and the startled "mm" that passed his lips. That's right. She had trusted him with her life when she called him, and she had trusted him to be in charge of the current sensitive situation. But it was one thing for her actions to convey that; it was entirely another for her to say the words aloud so bluntly—and in front of his rival, Misaki, no less! He could do no more than stare at the pillow propped long-ways behind her shoulders, unable to look at the sincerity in her eyes another time.
With no further rebuttal vocalized by the tech, Azami felt that ended the current argument for now, and she slumped heavily against the bed. She rubbed her eyes tiredly, knowing that she had ultimately dragged them all into this mess, and it was stressful for people other than her. She glanced at Fushimi between her fingers and watched him stare into space for a moment, probably trying to decide what he wanted to do with the rest of his night—morning?—that she had disturbed, among other things…
"Hey," she drew his attention and gestured to the armchair near the bedside that Yata had occupied earlier. "Come over here and sit down. I haven't thanked you for what you did yet. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't be here to argue with right now."
Yata smiled a little at that. "I guess that means I owe you two of them now, huh?"
Azami looked between the half-scoff Fushimi gave and the smile that now played on the skater's face, grateful that the topic was drifting away from centering on her. "Two what?"
"Proper thank you's," said the vanguard. "I still haven't said it for the time he helped us when Anna was taken by—" He saw the frown form on the Green Girl's face and swallowed the rest of his sentence. "Um, well…Too bad you didn't know about the second time so it wouldn't have taken us so long to get to her."
The Scepter 4 member raised a brow that Azami voiced the question for: "Second time?"
"Yeah, the whole neighborhood was trying to drive HOMRA out and these dumbass gangsters…"
Hopefully this will suffice throughout November. As was mentioned before, we may be MIA for the duration of NaNoWriMo and its aftermath. Look for us again sometime in December!
