Hanabishi Miki lowered the empty teacup from her lips and put it down on her platter, and the delicate porcelain made no sound. Not that Miki was handling it with such care because she cared to maintain the silence in the room or out of courtesy for her companion. There was no such need. She could make as much of a ruckus as she wanted to in her own office, and the other girl probably would not mind it, either.
"Hanabishi-san?"
Miki looked up at the other girl, grateful for the diversion but dreading what was coming next. Her assistant was a genuine weirdo. There was no telling what new problem she could come up with.
"The numbers don't add up here, either." The girl pointed at a stack of papers resting on the small round table she was working at. "The discrepancies are within the margin of error for every year, but things don't match up if you look at a longer period."
"Okay. Grab a marker and circle the parts that seem suspicious. Then get working on the next stack."
The girl kept staring at her with a deer-in-the-headlights look. Miki had a growing suspicion where this was all going.
"I-it's the 'cost reduced column on page five…" the girl offered meekly.
"Great. You'll mark that part with a marker, just like we agreed." Miki felt a deep sigh building up within her. "Right, Fumi?"
Fumi's eyes grew watery. She lowered her head, but could not escape Miki's dispassionate gaze. It was only a matter of time before she had to give up.
"I lost it!" Fumi slammed her hands on her knees and lowered her head further, doing her best at displaying her penitence.
"Lost what?"
"The marker!"
"Oh? Which one?"
"The red one!"
"Red?"
"Yes!"
"Where did you get that?"
"I… borrowed it! Borrowed it from your desk!"
"Oh? Why would you do that?"
"Because I needed a marker!"
"Why didn't you have one?"
"Because I broke it!"
"Broke what?"
"The marker!"
"Oh? Which one?
"The blue one!"
Fumi sounded more and more like she would cry with every answer. As much as Miki enjoyed a bit of sadism in her daily routine, she did prioritize getting work done. She opened one of the lock-protected drawers in her desk and took out a single green marker. The drawer was actually half-full with rainbow-colored writing utensils, all for Fumi's use. But the ditzy girl knew nothing about it. Miki made it a point never to give Fumi more than one marker at a time. Fumi would just lose one while breaking the other and swallow up twice the number as a result. The girl had serious concentration issues and a gift for screwing things up.
Miki walked over to Fumi's table and handed her the marker with a stern look. While her terrified assistant wobbled her head up and down in apology, Miki once again wondered at the walking incongruity that the girl was.
Hibino Fumi was, without a shadow of doubt, a genius. She could not operate a marker without breaking it, she often got lost on her way to and from the office, she could hardly remember what she had been doing ten minutes before, she always forgot to pay her monthly bills and hell would sooner freeze over than she would leave any red button labeled "danger" in her sight alone. She also had more computational power in her brain than a state-of-the-art computer did. She made any and all calculations twenty times faster in her head than Miki could with a database program. Fumi spotted repeating numerical patterns hundreds of pages apart. She did away with mountains of documents it took Miki weeks to analyze in a matter of hours.
Fumi was an absolute genius. She was also dim enough not to realize her own worth. The ridiculous amount of work Miki had her do was something a whole department would normally be needed to handle. Except that unlike people Miki could hire, Fumi had no idea what she was doing. She only carried out simple orders and forgot all about the day's work while eating dinner. There was no way Fumi could betray Miki or be tricked into revealing her secrets. Absolute confidentiality was a prerequisite for Miki to entrust her work to anyone but herself.
But even if nobody else knew, Miki did. And deep down, it hurt that someone completely unaware of what was going on could do so much more than her. This was the one thing Miki had to do right in her life, something she was pouring all of her soul and strength into, something she had begun knowing it could cost her her life. But it was also the only way Miki could act as Hinagiku's equal, and keep her from becoming completely alone.
On the way back to her desk, Miki could not help glancing at the calendar hanging on the wall. Every square on it was packed with tiny notes – deadlines, names and other information. Half the numbers were circled with various colors, adding to the general feeling of confusion. It was like a metaphor of the busy days she had been living for the last few years. But right then, Miki only looked at the column of Fridays circled in red.
That was the day reserved for their private meetings. At least in theory. Miki had spent that time the previous week locked up alone in the office, working on the papers Fumi had gone through that had piled up. The week before that had not been much different. Miki understood well that sacrifices had to be made at a crucial time like this, when more pressing matters could crop up at any moment.
It had been over forty days since the upper house had unanimously rejected the Special Internal Investigation Bureau bill, offering no amendments. This left them a bit over two weeks until the bill was presented before the lower house for a second vote. A two-thirds majority was necessary to make it pass – anything less and the bill would get thrown back into a locker, never to be considered again. The first time over the bill passed with fifty-eight percent of the votes. The missing eight percent they needed would not come raining from the sky.
So Miki was happy for the opportunity to get more work done. But she also realized that the burden she was carrying was still light, and that Hinagiku needed their meetings more than Miki did. Impatience and distress grow when unattended, and they lead to foolish decisions.
"Um… Hanabishi-san?" Fumi's nervous voice brought Miki down to earth. "Is everything alright? You've been standing still for a while already…"
Miki turned to hide her face and smiled ruefully. Even a klutz like Fumi could be perceptive at times, eh?
"It's all right." Miki sat behind her desk and returned to the papers waiting for her. "Would you like to hear a fairy-tale, Fumi?"
"Um… a fairy-tale?" Fumi looked at her quizzically.
"Yes," Miki replied without stopping her work "a bizarre fairy-tale I know."
xxx
Chapter 11
Anemone
xxx
Greece – the land of valiant heroes and capricious gods. It was here that the flower of philosophy first bloomed, here that three hundred men took on the wrath of a hundred nations. A place where island shores still echo with Homer's songs.
Yet the great country now paid no heed to the glory and burdens of its history, caught as it was in a spell of laziness cast by the warm mid-summer air. The giant turtles dwelling here positioned themselves atop rocks, ready to sunbathe for the remainder of the day. They needed not fear the locals or tourists disturbing their rest. All the people around preferred to seek shade, some of them allowing themselves a midday nap. Only the rays of sunlight pranced around happily, jumping from one surface to another in a never-ending game of tag.
And if there was anyone who could object to the cheerful and cozy atmosphere, it was one Katsura Hinagiku. The girl gripped the edge of the table before her as if grabbing on for life. The moment she felt the relief of finding a source of support, her unsteady legs buckled under her. Her crash-landing on the flimsy chair waiting for her was only half-successful. She felt her body veering too much to the side, threatening to topple over along with the chair, and she let her upper body fall atop the table in a final desperate bid no to meet with the floor.
The chair and table in question were set out on a café terrace. The furniture was comfortable and clean, the terrace offered a view of the glistening shore, and the parasols placed around the terrace lured customers in with the promise of respite from the blazing sun. The only reason why there were few people present to pay witness to Hinagiku's antics was that most of them were seated indoors and enjoying the air-conditioned room.
Hinagiku would soon calm down enough to enjoy those things. She would take a deep breath, savor the occasional gust of wind cooling down her skin, maybe order a cup of her favorite blend of coffee. But first, she just had to get rid of the feeling of nausea and severe shock that left all her nerves a fried mess.
She would never ever board a plane again. Perhaps it was because her head was still hazy, but she could not remember what made her even approach the flying doom-machine in the first place… No, wait. Miki. Hanabishi Miki.
Hinagiku could forgive Miki almost anything. After the dust settled on the Sanzenin tragedy, Hinagiku would have completely lost sight of herself if it were not for her childhood friend. Wataru, Hayate… and even more painfully, Maria and Yukiji. The shadows cast by the four were heavier than lead, far beyond what a single person could shoulder on their own. If it came from Miki, who helped her carry that burden, Hinagiku could turn a blind eye to most minor offences.
Only tricking Hinagiku into a traumatic, ten hour-long flight in a metal can ready to fall down into the ocean below any second, all talk about statistics be damned, was nothing minor. Hinagiku's mind filled with images of pincers, scalpels and a plethora of other torture devices, both ancient and modern, which could aid her in delivering Miki's punishment in the most painful way possible. Hinagiku's memory was good enough under most circumstances, but she was second to none in remembering her grudges.
To begin with, Hanabishi Miki had the insufferable tendency to be reasonable and calculating only when it least suited Hinagiku's purposes. Miki picked that particular flight for Hinagiku because of their connections – it was the safest way of getting Hinagiku to Greece without answering unnecessary questions or leaving tracks behind. Katsura Hinagiku was just a normal girl. Nobody cared if she got good grades in a prestigious high school or if she happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time when a forest villa filled with flames and blood. But that, Miki had said, would change when Hinagiku moved to seize her place at the top of the world. Hinagiku's past would no longer be her own, but a treasure trove for those looking for a hidden weakness. Hinagiku could not bring up her childish fear of heights when Miki's eyes told her how much effort went into concealing the fact that, two and half a year after the Sanzenin massacre, Katsura Hinagiku had come to Greece.
To Hinagiku, this journey was absolutely necessary. If she wanted to live through the ordeal awaiting her in a few years, this was where a miracle had to be born. She would throw a single pebble amidst the cogwheels of destiny and pray for it to fall into just the right place. And should her prayers be answered, that single pebble would one day stop the infernal machine called fate.
But she also knew, knew that fate would simply laugh at the feeble attempt. It would watch her throw the pebble and spit it right back at her face. Which was why Hinagiku needed a second miracle just so that the first one could take place – she needed for her first miracle to go unnoticed.
Hinagiku felt her anger at Miki disperse like morning mist. In the first place, it was only intended to cover up her true feelings. The terror was always there, right beneath the surface and waiting for a moment of weakness. And now that her body and mind were exhausted from the stress of the flight, the ugly feeling struck at her with full force.
Two miracles. No matter how small a miracle, it was normally something only to be acquired at the cost of a human life. Hinagiku was asking Miki for two of those. And she knew deep down that she would have to ask for even more. Sooner or later, somebody would have to pay the price, and Hinagiku herself could only take up one space on the sacrificial altar.
The post-flight nausea gradually left Hinagiku's body. But she hated the feeling that replaced it. She was supposed to be infallible, reliable, perfect. Hinagiku herself was the harshest judge of her own shortcomings; she would impose upon herself any regime necessary to overcome them. It worked. She had become strong. She was showered with praise and admiration from the people around her. Why, then, was she still so powerless? Why was her life a string of debts she could not pay back?
Hinagiku was supposed to climb the tallest mountain, turn around, and smile at her sister to show her that it had been worth it, all the sacrifice, every day spent with nothing but a guitar, a child Hinagiku on her back and the shadow of their parents' debt. But now Yukiji would never see anything again. Hinagiku was supposed to hold her head high, find the courage to tell her first love of the feelings he taught her. But now Hayate was deaf to any words she might have for him.
What was she doing here, in Greece? What was she dragging Miki into? Was she seeking to repeat the tragedy a third time?
Movement forced Hinagiku out of her thoughts. Right in front of her face, much closer than Hinagiku would have liked, it entered from her blind spot. She did not need to think for her body to move. She had held a sword while still a child. She had taken part in countless battles against humans, robots, demons and anything in-between. And she had once paid a great price for letting a single needle get past her guard. Training, experience and battle paranoia. A combination of the three made her react on reflex even when spacing out.
One of her hands pushed hew away from the table, and her upper body bent backwards in an arc, buying her a couple centimeters' worth of distance, a fraction of a second more to respond. Her free hand shot out to intercept the foreign object.
It all happened in an instant, and yet Hinagiku's trained eyes identified the thing coming at her before her fist could close over it fully. When her mind finally caught up with her body, her reaction was more surprise than alarm. Her chair returned to a balanced position after her sudden lurch backwards, and her muscles relaxed. For a while, she stared blankly at her clenched fist.
Hinagiku stayed frozen in that moment, as if afraid to move and break a delicate balance. A slight breeze ruffled her hair. There was sound of banter and laughter from two men leaving the café and moving away down one of the streets.
Slowly, haltingly, Hinagiku unclenched her fist. She watched as the thing she had grabbed fell limply to the table. It was tiny, paper-thin, resembling a white flower petal. But it moved, trembled, on its own accord. It was a white butterfly, lying flat on the table and trying vainly to flap its broken wings.
Hinagiku stared unblinkingly at the creature's pitiful movement. She took in all the pain, all the broken dreams the tiny insect seemed to represent.
Without averting her gaze, Hinagiku gritted her teeth. She reached into her pocket and took out a disposable tissue, wrapping it around the insect and squeezing it to put it out of its misery.
The butterfly died because of Hinagiku's self-pity, because she was too taken up with fear and regret to keep her attention on what was happening around her. But this, she inwardly swore, was the last sacrifice. A silent anger burned away all the doubt and weakness that had taken root in her heart. She was angry at herself for losing control, for endangering the present by thinking too much about the past and the future. But this was good anger. It would keep her focused and on the right track.
When Hinagiku looked up to scan the veranda for a trash can to dispose of the tissue, she caught sight of a familiar face entering the café.
The woman did not look that much older than Hinagiku, but there was some severe quality to her eyes and expression that suggested the burdens of time and experience. Hinagiku was the only one following the newcomer with her eyes. With her short hair, plain clothes and unobtrusive manner, the woman attracted little to no attention even from people she passed close by on her way to an empty table in the corner of the café. Few would notice how the woman's seemingly natural step had a controlled edge to it, how she stealthily surveyed the room and moved with precise intent. Hinagiku felt the woman's gaze sweep through the veranda outside, and their eyes crossed for the shortest of moments. But the woman did not pause or give any indication she had noticed Hinagiku, proceeding to sit down and take out a folded newspaper from her purse, signaling for the waiter to bring her a coffee.
Hinagiku held no doubts that she had been noticed. And she would not believe the woman had simply forgotten her face. They had met years ago, barely had the chance to exchange more than a few words… but as short as it had been, they had also faced each other in battle. Hinagiku knew how hard it was to truly forget those fleeting moments of life-and-death struggle and adrenaline-heightened awareness. Yes, the woman was sure to remember her.
And so, as Hinagiku observed the woman once known as sister Sonia, she felt the wheel of the first of Miki's miracles spin.
X
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X
Hinagiku's feet came to a halt in the middle of a crossing. She whipped her head left and right, and then peered far ahead once more.
What surrounded her on all sides were empty streets painted gold with the blazing sun. Small houses lined side by side, no sharp turns, no back alleys, no people within sight.
There was absolutely no hiding place to be found there. Granted, Hinagiku was no master of reconnaissance. She would usually approach her foes head on, or else wait for them to come out and take their shot at her. But her eyes were as sharp as they needed to be. She would miss no signs of concealment. And she certainly moved fast enough not to get thrown off her target's tail.
And yet here she was, staring cluelessly around herself for the third time that day. It was a humbling experience, but for once Hinagiku did not entirely resent it. If there was to be any meaning to her coming to Greece, she could expect nothing less from her target.
Hinagiku paused to look around once more and confirm she was not being followed herself. Satisfied, she reached into one of her pockets and took out a small paper decoration. Expertly folded and made of top-quality paper, it was a fine piece of origami work, a crane with its head held high and wings poised to grant it the illusion of rising to flight.
Hinagiku held the paper bird delicately in the palm of her hand, curling her fingers around it slightly to protect it from being blown away by a sudden gust of wind. It was said folding a thousand such cranes could bring about a miraculous recovery. Hinagiku had once fleetingly considered folding them for her sister. But she discarded the though angrily as soon as it had come. There would be no prayer for her as long as there were still things she had to get done with her own hands.
A few seconds passed when, almost imperceptibly, the crane began to shift in her palm. To any onlooker, the movement would have looked like nothing more than wind pushing around a piece of paper. But to Hinagiku's eyes, the movement of the paper bird was purposeful. It stretched its neck as if to follow a dying scent, its wings trembling minutely in anticipation. When it finished turning, its head was pointed at the direction of Hinagiku's back, only slightly to the west from the way Hinagiku had come.
Hinagiku allowed herself a dry smile at how completely she had been mislead. And then she spun on her heel, giving chase once more. She put the paper crane back into her pocket, careful not to damage it in the process. It was, after all, a present personally folded by Saginomiya Isumi – the world's most powerful medium – and Hinagiku's absolute victory condition in this game of cat-and-mouse.
X
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X
At the end of the game of hide and seek, Hinagiku found herself on a beach. The sun was beginning to set and there were neither locals nor tourists in sight. The wind, slowly growing colder, had already driven everyone home.
Hinagiku's eyes passed over the coast, the surrounding shrubbery, and the rocky outcropping overlooking the beach. She paused to look at a small hut standing quietly atop the rocky cliff. It was the only thing which could feasibly act as a hiding place in the near area. Hinagiku pocketed the origami bird which had brought her here, moving at a leisurely pace towards the wooden structure.
At some point, the hut might have acted as a lifesaver station. But now, it showed no signs of recent use, with its walls and windows covered with a thin layer of dust and dirt. The door of the hut was closed from the outside with a slightly rusted lock pad, but it looked flimsy enough that Hinagiku could probably force it open without much trouble if she wanted to.
If Hinagiku were to guess why the hut went abandoned, she would normally bet on the reason being the hut's unfortunate location. Of course, the beach was within sight from where Hinagiku stood next to the hut's entrance. But actually getting down there would require either circling the entire outcropping, or climbing down the steep cliff. The uneven surface of the area made it difficult to walk around, and Hinagiku could imagine the rocks beneath her feet getting unpleasantly hot during the day, only to turn deathly cold at night. The outcropping was a place which naturally invited desolation, a perfect place to hide from the eyes of others.
Hinagiku walked around the hut, confirming there was nothing about it that appeared out of place. She turned back the way she came, making sure there were no watchful eyes keeping track of her. And then, in a single motion, she was on the hut's roof. Like a cat leaping from place to place, she landed softly on all fours. The wooden tiles she descended on did not let out so much as the smallest creak.
Had she come an hour later, it would probably be impossible for her to notice anything off about the roof at first glance. But with the dying sun lending the wooden tiles its glow, it was easy for her to pinpoint a place where the light bent in an irregular way, hinting at the existence of a gap between the tiles. Hinagiku fished out a thin and flat piece of metal out her pocket, inserted it into the gap for leverage and carefully pulled the tiles up. The hidden trapdoor opened easily enough, proving to Hinagiku that it had been used not too long ago, unlike the regular entrance to the hut.
She dropped softly inside. Even in the dim light, she could see from up close that there were places where the dust in the room had been disturbed. The hut was mostly empty, save for one chair, a small desk and a single cupboard. Hinagiku paid the furniture no attention, tapping lightly on the floor and soon discovering another hidden trapdoor.
She opened it like she had the previous one and revealed an entrance hole carved out in the rock. She saw a tunnel stretching out into the darkness deep below, with a ladder installed at the side to make safe descent possible. For a moment, Hinagiku held her breath and listened closely for any sounds which might be coming from within that darkness, but heard only silence. She grabbed onto the ladder and made her way down as quietly as possible.
The bottom was pitch-dark, with nothing to point the way further. As Hinagiku ran her hand over the walls, though, she became certain that this was a passage. There was a widening corridor heading inland, at first only wide enough for Hinagiku to move forward without touching the walls with her shoulders, but soon becoming wide enough so that three people could probably move freely in a row. The rock floor of the cavern was mostly even, but Hinagiku took every step with care lest she trip over any protrusions. Without being able to rely on her eyes even as they adjusted to the darkness, she sharpened her other senses.
When she felt a minute resistance appear under her right foot and disappear almost immediately after, all her muscles tensed, ready for action. The moment a barely discernible swish of air reached her ears, she was already moving her hands to protect her vital spots. She used the thin piece of metal in her hand as a miniature shield to protect her neck. The tiny clink she heard as something collided with her makeshift defense could not have been caused by anything larger than a sewing needle.
But no matter how small the sound was, it echoed far throughout the corridor. It would drown out other sounds in the milliseconds to come. Hinagiku could not bet on whether there were more needles coming. Continuing the half-spin motion she used for defense, she threw herself to the ground. Not a moment later, she could hear more of the miniature objects crashing against the walls. But there was no time for her to pat herself on the back. There were more sounds coming from deeper within the tunnel – movement of shoes on rock, the rustle of cloth – those were more dangerous sounds.
Hinagiku threw the miniature shield in her hand into the darkness ahead, basing her aim on the sounds and instinct alone. The projectile would not do anyone much harm even if it connected. It was not a weapon in the first place. But it would buy Hinagiku time enough to get back on her feet.
Surely enough, it was not half a second later when Hinagiku heard the successive sounds of her makeshift weapon being swatted away and then rebounding of the wall and ground. By that time, Hinagiku was ready for evasive action, waiting for the other's response.
But after that single exchange, the tunnel was plunged into a tense silence, allowing neither sound nor movement. Hinagiku kept her breathing shallow and silent, unwilling to let anything betray her exact position. The moment stretched, putting her nerves to the test. But it ended suddenly, with the soft click of a button being pressed.
Hinagiku reflexively squinted as a burst of light came from far ahead. The owner of the hideout was holding a flashlight pointed at the pink-haired girl, no doubt studying her carefully in an attempt to read her intentions.
But Hinagiku just smiled at the woman. With the darkness of the tunnel partially broken, she too could see the wary face of her target.
X
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X
"I can't say I wanted to see you ever again, Katsura."
Sister Sonia observed Hinagiku with cold and calculating eyes. They had moved deeper into the tunnel before reaching an open cavern more than spacious enough to function as a room. The walls were shaped in their natural, irregular shapes, but there were boards placed over the floor to make moving easier and provide some protection from the cold. Sonia used a single oil lamp for illumination, but its faint light was not enough to give Hinagiku a precise idea of their surroundings. At this stage, Sonia probably decided it was best to keep her unexpected guest's situational awareness as limited as possible.
"We didn't exactly part on the best of terms, I suppose," Hinagiku allowed.
There was a time when Hinagiku's circle of friends and acquaintances was exceedingly wide and varied, including even some rather shady characters like the fake sister. But following the Sanzenin attack several years before, Nagi had made it perfectly clear that people with criminal connections had better stay far away from her or risk eating lead. Hinagiku's last meeting with Sonia before the sister was forced to flee from Japan had been a messy ordeal.
It would be no surprise if their reunion immediately turned into a deathmatch, continuing from where they left off in the tunnel. But the reason they had been able to sit down and see if there was a peaceful way out of this situation was precisely that the two had already met each other in battle once before. They were both aware that there was no telling which one of them would remain standing should it come to a life or death struggle between them. There were things both of them still had to accomplish, and neither was suicidal.
"What did you come here for, Katsura?"
"For information… and guidance."
Sonia's eyes narrowed further.
"You sure you got the right person? You should know what I do for a living."
"That's exactly the reason I'm here."
Hinagiku paused.
"I know what happened a year ago."
The moment the words left Hinagiku's mouth, the temperature in the cavern dropped several degrees.
"I think you've got the wrong idea," Sonia spat out. But that was also an admission she knew exactly what Hinagiku was talking about.
"You've faced the Crow in battle and lived to tell the tale."
"I told you, you've got the wrong idea," Sonia insisted. "I've never told anyone what went down that night. Whatever you've heard are baseless rumors."
Hinagiku remained silent, refusing to let the topic go. Sonia could not miss the stubborn glint in her eyes.
"That time, the Crow and I just happened to get the same assignment from two different clients. The target was a paranoid fool who always walked around with an entourage of guards, but there was one obvious hole in the scheduling of his security. It was inevitable we would pick the same time to strike." Sonia did not bother trying to hide her intentions on that night. There was no way Hinagiku did not already know, anyway. "The Crow wasn't my target, just as I wasn't his. We only became aware of each other's existence at the last moment, when it was time to carry out the job. It was a coincidence we had to fight there."
"And you're the only one to survive a coincidence like this, aren't you?" Hinagiku pressed. "Information is deadly, and the Crow knows how to clean up."
Hinagiku saw the muscles in Sonia's face grow tense and a spark of anger, but also fear, appear in her eyes.
"I take back my words, Katsura. That wasn't a fight. Like I could win against something like that. The Crow wouldn't follow if I got in range of a camera or to a place with other people. The mission was over, and it wouldn't be worth the risk. So I just had to run down a corridor or two and it'd be over. I look back on what happened and I know it couldn't have taken more than thirty seconds. But no matter how many times I try to tell myself that, I still can't believe that hell didn't last for hours."
"Even so-"
Cutting through the air with her hand, Sonia silenced Hinagiku before she could insist further. The fake sister reached for the oil lamp between them and brought it closer to herself. The glow fell on her clothes – a tightly fitting turtleneck and a pair of trousers. Wordlessly, Sonia took off the turtleneck and threw it to the floor. Goose bumps covered her skin, but she showed no other reaction to the cold. With near-mechanical motions, Sonia went on to take off her white shirt. As the garment fell to the floor, revealing more of Sonia's skin, Hinagiku couldn't stop her eyes form widening in surprise.
Considering the local climate, Sonia's skin was unusually pale. Her wiry frame provided no hint of the incredible strength Hinagiku knew she was hiding. With her skin covered in goose bumps, Sonia appeared fragile and weak.
But Hinagiku had lost the presence of mind to dwell on such details. Her eyes were glued to the purplish snake that seemed to stretch the entire length of the woman's upper body – a badly healed scar starting just below Sonia's collarbone and extending downward at an angle between her breasts and towards her abdomen. Although Sonia's bra served to hide this when she was fully clothed, Hinagiku now noticed that the sister's breasts were asymmetric, part of the left breast missing.
Hinagiku felt a shiver pass down her spine. Partly because she imagined why the wound had scarred so badly. Criminals for hire could not waltz into a public hospital and expect to receive treatment without explaining exactly how they sustained their wounds. On the other hand, underground doctors were always willing to sell out their patients if enough money exchanged hands, and offered no refuge from a hit man coming back to finish up his job. Sonia had probably treated the wound herself, or at best received amateur help.
But another thing which had Hinagiku flinching was that it was too easy to see it had been a hair's breadth difference which had determined that Sonia stay alive to this day.
Sonia stared into Hinagiku's eyes, telling the younger woman to stay away from the fire, lest she get burned. Hinagiku shook her head once to compose herself, but did not try to mask the effect the sight had on her.
"Even so," a weak smile appeared on her face, "this is something I must be prepared for."
Sonia snorted at this response and quickly threw her clothes back on.
"Well then," she began, as if finally convinced there was no calling the pink-haired girl back to her senses, "suppose I were to help you, what do I get in return?"
"First, a guarantee I keep quiet about your identity and whereabouts."
Contrary to the vulnerable expression on her face, Hinagiku spoke out in an easy, business-like tone.
"Second, a chance to put all of this," Hinagiku ran her eyes over the interior of Sonia's hideout, "behind you, if the Crow is the one not to survive our encounter."
"The odds are much better you'll lose your head and blurt out my information before they finish you off." It did not take one second for Sonia to shoot Hinagiku's offer down. But this was precisely what Hinagiku had expected, and she took it in stride.
"Third," Hinagiku finished off her count "you can consider this your revenge for the death of Tachibana Wataru."
In the next moment, Sonia was by Hinagiku's side, dagger held closely by the sitting girl's neck.
"Watch out that you do not speak those words too lightly," Sonia hissed out.
Hinagiku's expression did not change one bit from that weak, pained smile.
"I lost too much back there for that," she replied.
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X
"–and so the princess and the dragon trained together for forty days and forty nights to overthrow the evil king," Miki unexpectedly finished her story. Fumi looked at her confusedly, tilting her head to the side.
"But wasn't the dragon evil, too?" the confused girl asked.
Miki chuckled.
"Yes, it was." Seeing the answer did not exactly help Fumi make heads or tails of the story, Miki shook her head. "Don't think about it too much, it's just a fairy tale, after all."
Miki stood up from her seat, walked around her desk and towards Fumi's working place. Seeing that the girl was still mulling over her previous words, Miki slapped a mask of mock-anger on her face. "There's work to be done!" Miki barked, grabbing the several sheets of paper Fumi had already looked over while they were talking and pointing for the girl to continue with her duties, "No time to waste on pointless things!"
"Yes, ma'am!" Fumi yelped and lowered her head over the papers.
Miki returned to her desk, flipping through the papers with Fumi's multicolored highlights on them. Transactions that happened too soon after one another, investments that could not possibly pay off, inexplicable similarities in the money flow of unrelated companies. Nine times out of ten, those things could be easily explained away as simple coincidence or human error. But once in ten times, they could not. That meant Fumi had a one out of ten ratio of stumbling upon lethal secrets. And Miki would have her stumble for twelve hours a day, bringing them ever closer to the descent of her pandemonium.
Soon, Hibino Fumi would destroy a world, and never even realize it.