9: Continued Pursuit

7:30 PM

"I'll see you later, Tomoya,"

I offer Tomoya a warm, awkward smile as we head to the ground floor. After almost three hours straight of studying, I'm a bit tired out.
Normally, I wouldn't be. Despite his difficulty in learning some new concepts, Tomoya has usually participated readily in study sessions, particularly in the last year or so.

Today, however, he was mostly silent. To prevent the tense atmosphere from getting any worse, I found myself chattering on about our homework assignments non-stop.

Our trek down the stairs was the first time he began to emote. An uneasy sideways glance defined his facial movements as I lead him to the front door. Once we got there, he wrapped his hand wearily around the door knob.

"Yeah," he lets out, no tone or emotion obvious in his voice. "Listen, Kotomi . . . I won't lie and say I'd be any more composed than you are. But . . . I still think you're going out of line."

He narrows his eyes. "If your assumptions are correct, than Dr. Hiromu knows a lot more about you than you know about him. There's no evidence to convict him on; how can you possibly stay safe with all of these invariables?"

I pause for a moment. Taking in his legitimate complaints, I inhaled a short burst of air. "Scientists always have to work with a certain amount of invariables, Tomoya."

"Yeah, but they aren't usually in a life and death circumstance when they do it."

"Like I said, I knew Dr. Tomohiro. He never would have said something like that unless he meant it,"

"But even if that's so—"

"I'll find a way," I place a finger to his lips. "Good-bye, Tomoya-kun."

Tomoya tugs hap-hazarded at the edges of his coat collar as the song of cicadas buzz in our ears. Sighing, he takes a few steps back, leaving only one comment before leaving.

"Good luck,"

He stalks away into the night without another word. A cold breeze from the April air brushes against my cheeks.

Don't hesitate. I sweep my arm across my body.

I shut the door and jog up the stairs to my room. Closing the door, I shuffle through the plethora of research materials I'd accumulated years ago.

It may be insignificant . . . But there has to be something I can get from it.

I force open one of the drawers and dig through the resulting pile. At the bottom, coated in dust, is the web page I printed.

"'Hope it's still legible," I murmur as I brush the signs of age from the artifact. After whisking air across the surface, I peer once more at the text.

"The Ichinoses never had a chance. Now, they're dead. And why are they dead? Simple, because of me."

I brace my heart against my hand, taking three seconds to catch my breath. Recovered, I look once more at the page.

Nothing to indicate the author . . . The grammar is a bit simplistic, lacking in style or grace. I'd be shocked if one of the scientists in the lab came up with something as lazy as this . . .

I scratch my head. Maybe Tomoya was right; it's stretching it to attribute this to someone at the lab. It's so classless. So-

Wait!

I scan the top of the page and nod to myself. I snatch a pen from my burrow and scribble down the URL on the paper.

How could I have not seen this before?

The steps echo with my footsteps as I hurry to the phone.

Surely, there's someone who'd be able to find a way to find a host from this info.

"Kotomi-chan,"

My guardian's distinctive gravel sends a sharp "stop" signal through my nerves. As I rest my hand on the countertop, I turn to face him.

"Ojii-san," I bow, "what can I do for you?"

"Who are you calling?"

I gulp, surprised at how set his tone is. "I was going to contact Dr. Ishihara about a dead web page I'd found."

He quirks his eyebrow. "Even if your suspicions are well-founded, it's far too early to start investigating. Besides, how do you know he's not with them as well?"

I bite my lip.

"Such a poorly worded statement is uncharacteristic of the scientists at the lab; I'm sure that thought crossed your mind already."

"It did," reluctantly, I tilt my head, "but I don't see why he'd want to betray my parents; you've heard how passionate he is about their work."

He stays silent for a minute, pondering his next words with careful deliberation. "My job is to keep you safe at all costs. It would be foolish of me to let you recklessly pursue this."

"It's just a weakly-formatted hate-message that anyone could have written; I doubt there's much harm it could do."

"What if Dr. Hiromu finds out and has him killed like Dr. Tomohiro? What if he's working with them and reveals the post exists? What if someone else dies when he leaks his co-worker's story?"

Gradually, my eyes start to squint.

"Kotomi-chan, understand this recent turn of events puts a suspicious glint on everyone in the lab, even someone like me who you've known for years. You can't gamble with peoples' lives just because you're desperate for answers."

My eyes drift out the window, meeting with a firefly landing on to various portions of the glass in a set pattern. " . . . You're right."

He wipes perspiration from his forehead. "However, just because entrusting this information to Dr. Ishihara would be foolish doesn't mean you can't trust anyone."

"What do you mean?" I ask as he flips through the address book.

"A friend of mine named Matsumoto Yukihiro. He's a bit of an oddball, but he's just as intelligent as Dr. Ishihara, if not more-so. He's an expert computer programmer; the owner of a local computer technical support business. He should be able to devise additional information about the site with the resources he has at hand."

"What do you think he'll be able to find?" I'm familiar with computers but not enough to find out complex information from a dead website's domain.

"I'm not sure," he grimaces as he dials the number. "Whatever's the case, he won't be able to solve this over a single phone call; he's going to want to see the page you printed out."