Felisse: For your tireless efforts, for your patience, and kindness and unerring judgment, thank you for putting up with me.
Suikun: Ahh, sorry life is so hectic. Symbolism is one of the finest forms of representation. I'm glad you enjoyed the action – and this was, indeed, Natsuki's turning point. Nao has her good qualities – she just needs to find them. As for the Japanese at the end of Reito's section – I try to limit my usage to character defining words or phrases, with the exception of certain curses (the baka line), interjections (umm, hey, etc) and in the final instance, sounds that convey a certain meaning – Reito didn't actually say yes or no. He made a sound of assent. I will try to restrain myself though. ;)
Seravy: I'm a Mogwai at heart; we prefer the darkness, those places where the shadows move with a life of their own. Smiles. I'm glad you liked the prose.
Teresa Kaiju: It makes me happy it captured you, for however long you choose to read. Pain and passion, both beautiful, delicately rend the soul. I think you've been corrupted, but… don't worry, the ends justify the means.
Alida: Nailed Kiyohime in one. ;) Smith always called Natsuki 'princess', even in the anime – makes one wonder why, yes? Good and evil are subjective terms, but, I'd have to say I think District wins the 'evil bastards' award. Mmmm, Searrs has Mikoto. From Smith's point of view, he was using District for his own ends.
Silent Ee: I look to you for inspiration, thus are you blessed. HiME-mon is in full session. Good to catch the honorifics; perhaps, like princess, it has some meaning? It is my greatest failing that I often take the scenic route. Did the deal break? I'm still waiting for the cradle to fall. Grins.
EA Simpson: It is possible I made Natsuki too dense, but that's how I've always perceived her – so focused she was constantly surprised by things she could have noticed, if she'd just been paying attention to the details.
Asthalanthil: The last few paragraphs were a confusion to several, and thanks to b14ck-r053 and Keili, I was able to smooth out the rough parts.
B14ck-r053: Amaryllis Belladonna actually has no relation to other plants sharing this name. The flowers Natsuki threw over the cliff looked to be part of the lily family; I picked the one I thought corresponded best in appearance and intent – Scooby snacks to anyone who can tell me what anime they are from. Thank you sooo much for your assistance in proofing; you are an invaluable benefit. I amended the ending to clarify who was doing what. Giggles. Hanging from cliffs is one of my pastimes.
Interstate 405:I'm glad someone I hold in such high esteem finds our story compelling.
Keili: Duly noted – I did additional research and amended my spelling for mother. There is a strong genetic link between past and present, in who holds power from the blood. The HiME star served a purpose, as did the contract it represented – that constraint was lifted when they disappeared. I hope Nao redeems herself in your eyes.
Kiltmandu: Silly boy – you've never left muse status. Accept the rose, and your journey to the dark side will be complete.
HikkiDesuYo: Hold on to the edge. I've no idea what's at the bottom.
Kyanite: The feast of All Saints continues. Grab my hand; I'll hold you until we fall.
Naked Fish: Would that I be worthy of Sunrise making this fiction into fact. You were right about Akira getting whopped in the face by Mikoto – but I think, in her defense, she wasn't really trying – too concerned about Takumi. Your speculation serves you well, by half. I was giddy about reaching 100. Here's to many more!
Nocturne: Gives you a scalp massage. Scowl not, I clarified. Gomen. The mysteries are coming together gang. All we have to do is make sure the Mystery Machine doesn't run out of gas. Coughs. If affection so benefits you, by all means, lavish away. I'm a cuddly closet monster.
Madness Lettuce and Tobasco: Gah! Out quoted again. Sighs. That's it, I'm hiring you to be on my staff. Only the interesting relationships are built on sand. The rest are soooo… how you say... stable. :oP
Johnny: Yes yes! The bullets! Cry havoc and let slip the bunny slippers of war! We are all of us amazing, readership and writer: artist, dancer, and patron. I am the pane through which we see, but you, all of you, are my vista.
XSojix: Joins you in the cheerleader section. Dawn take you all, and stone be to you.
This chapter is about playing with fire, and how blithely conscience burns those unused to its effects. It catches us up, and opens the path to duality – what's done is done, but is it truly past? The dominos thresh like wheat, gather sound and force, stretching along the unknown into chaos. What follows after is anyone's guess. Tell me your thoughts as we share the bitter brew.
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Chapter 12Nao walked quickly down the deserted hallway. The half formed echoes of her footsteps outpaced her, running far ahead into the labyrinth of doorways. She tugged at the burden over her shoulder, repositioned it so it wasn't sliding off every other minute. This is so going to ruin my shirt. The dark stain from the killing wound had magically multiplied, like an amoeba twinning itself, and smeared a rather sticky replica across the right side of her body.
She hadn't accompanied Kuga, though for a few minutes she had trailed after her, mostly for amusement's sake, waiting to see if the dark haired girl would discover her companion had taken her leave. She hadn't. No one noticed: not Kuga, not the men running towards the far end of the base, not the snipers dotted along the waves of hills, cupping this place in the palm of their hands. At least, she didn't think the snipers noticed. She hadn't really wanted to get close enough to verify, since the action of confirmation itself would have painted a big, neon, OVER HERE, STUPID sign on her back.
Kuga picked up a shadow and didn't notice this either. After seeing that, Nao'd gotten bored with following Kuga around. If her own plans hadn't conflicted, she would've likely smacked Natsuki upside the head with her own oblivious absurdity, called out to the idiot woman and revealed with a lazy wave the man stalking her. But this wasn't her battle, and she left the pair to dance undisturbed.
If Kuga couldn't take care of herself, that was hardly Nao's concern. She needed to make use of the distraction while it lasted – to get through the doorway, down the emergency illuminated stairs, past the heaps of cast off fodder, through the checkpoint. She'd had to crawl through the opening for luggage inspection; it was a damn tight fit, and she'd been sure she was going to be trapped in the machine's innards until she managed to squirm her hand into a position where she wouldn't impale herself when she cut her way free. That aside, finding the body of an officer hadn't been as difficult as she'd imagined. There were dozens of them dotting the offices and anterooms in quaint little piles.
Nao didn't know much about the military, had no idea what the various insignias of office or uniform colors meant, had nothing to base her selection upon, really, other than completeness of corpse. She wasn't sure which anatomical part the various safeguards would require, so, when she'd found a brown haired man laid low from a thrust, and not a swipe, she tossed him over her shoulder and continued on her way. Which was how she came to be where she was now, standing in the junction of corridors, debating which direction to take as she wrestled the lanky man's carcass higher on her shoulder, a particularly stubborn sack of potatoes.
She muttered angrily as she shoved the man's head away from her groin in repulsed irritation, studying the blood-smeared ink on her arm. Even dead, men are pigs. If the blueprints were accurate, it should be located to the left. The first security panel along that course bore the outline of a hand. Nao lifted the matching appendage to the plate, hoping this soldier's rank was sufficient to grant admittance; she wasn't looking forward to retracing her steps to look for another. The machine in the wall hummed, obediently opening the sealed door.
"Welcome, Captain Tyler."
She smirked, jogging forward. The next obstacle was an eye scanner and she held the man's face up to the reader. The security measure after that analyzed blood, followed by a numerical lock. She pulled out a small box, blowing the fine dust across the panel, noting which keys had the most body oil residue, the position the fingers would need to be in to strike them rapidly. After two attempts, the door rolled up, revealing a reception area of sorts. The interior was bland – off white walls with a desk in one corner and a recessed panel set beside the entrance.
"Huh." This room's puzzle required two people, one at the desk to push the button on the inner edge of the table, and another to depress a button on the wall. She used the late captain's head as a paperweight, holding him in place with her foot as she extended to reach its twin. It was a painful stretch, but she finally managed it, slipping through the door before it closed, and looked around in satisfaction.
Except for the mainframe's lights, twinkling like a starry night, the room was dark. Nao pulled out her root kit disk and grinned. Not much of a hacker herself, she had friends for whom breaking into high-security systems was a light before breakfast workout.
She slid the disk into place, nibbled on her lip impatiently as the programs worked, accepted the various prompts as they popped up. "Hmm." Personnel records. It was a start. Apprehension grew as she sifted through the information. It was possible they hadn't bothered to give the blond man a record at all. She grunted, working her way through the S's with quick keystrokes. 'T' flashed on the screen gonna be a waste of time passing a familiar face before she could slow down to figure out who it was. She reversed through the files, more slowly, pulling back in surprise no way when the face reappeared on the screen.
Tate, Yuuichi. "Tate?" She leaned forward, scrutinizing his service records. Joined the army two weeks after the death of his friends, went through basic training, was requested to transfer into District soon after because of his preexisting knowledge of HiMEs. Went through intensive secondary training, along with surgery and physical therapy for a wounded left knee. Tate, huh? Wouldn't Tokiha be proud of you now, you backstabbing little bastard. "I knew I should have killed you, instead of going after Takumi. Oh well, I'll be sure to amend my error when we meet again."She smiled, moving through the menus. Prisoners of war, what District charming labeled as 'satellite interests.' "Where are you… where are you?" She didn't think her mother would be confined here – it would be too grand a stroke of luck, and the powers that be didn't care an iota about her happiness. Another vaguely familiar face stared back at her and she paused. A HiME? Subject, Higurashi Akane – currently enrolled in advanced behavioral conditioning, under the supervision of Tate Yuuichi such a small world.
'Subject is adequately receptive to modified technique, though she has yet to regain control over higher order matter. Theory suggests subject will require a substitute for her affections, or memory alteration concerning the death of her spouse.'
Interesting. The name of the prison was supplied, Valhalla, but other information was either restricted beyond her ability to crack, or hadn't been recorded in the first place. District had been keeping themselves busy. Her mother was also being kept there and Nao excitedly clicked on the various video surveillance links, sorted by time and date, relieved her mother was still alive, and apparently unharmed. The newest relay was only a few hours old. She touched the screen lightly, blinking away the tears as she watched her mother sit on a couch, restlessly flipping through magazines. I'm coming, Momma. I'll get you out, and then… and then I'll make them pay. She diligently searched through the remaining files, but it seemed Akane was the only HiME they'd managed to capture.
The redhead sighed, closing the window. She didn't know how she was going to find this Valhalla place, let alone sneak in solo and remove a high profile detainee, but it was her only option. There was no hope now of convincing dumbass and Fujino the bad guys were wearing white hats. If the two of them survived...
Something Kuga had mentioned during the ride resurfaced. Nao dug deeper, finding an entry for Searrs Foundation, and she chuckled as she read the intelligence First had managed to gather on Searrs. Useless, nothing but dead ends. She wondered if District realized this was a honeypot, a ruse – they were deliberately letting their opposition into the system, feeding them misdirecting scraps.
Still, however limited the access, here was a shared connection. Nao rubbed her hands together, laced her fingers and stretched her arms as she leaned over the keyboard. Whatever leverage she'd had with the pair, Searrs Smith had taken from her. Whoever he was, it was about time he learned he wasn't the only one that could move the pieces around the board. She was more than happy to give him a demonstration.
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The blond girl smoothed the lines of her picture with her thumb, added shade, blended the chalk, trying to capture her memory of the snowy lake, to recreate the expression on her guardian's face. She was torturing herself deliberately, basking in the failures she'd been punished for, perhaps seeking an outlet for her continued quest for redemption. Not Joseph's fault her blood stained his hands; he'd claimed the final restitution for events beyond both of their control. He'd also paid the price for blind loyalty to his new master. I'm glad he's gone.
Alyssa's own agenda remained unchanged; her progenitor's dream blazed vividly, a lantern to light the dismal, dreary days of captivity. It gave her something to cling to as she quietly submitted to the endless gauntlet of tests, the numbingly repetitive questions. Where have you been? What have you been doing? Why did you return? The questions had simple answers – they refused to grasp their significance because of this very lack of guile. She had gone to ground, running from both District and Searrs for over a year. She'd returned because she was homesick and weary from the constant strain of evasion.
And now she was home, in the place of her birth, confined within the section where they stored the rest of their misbehaving science projects. The services she'd rendered meant nothing; she was an embarrassment to be hidden away. Insulting. When she extricated herself, she would demand answers of her own, and heaven save the Foundation if those answers didn't satisfy. She'd burn the entire organization to the ground.
The lights dimmed, brightened, dimmed again. Something was bottlenecking the flow of electricity, or slowly overloading the circuit breaker. Alyssa set aside her wintery scene as she moved to the door. She watched the fluorescents fade to a dull gray, flare into brilliant, blinding life, and burst, showering the room with a dazzling display of dying sparks and splintered glass. The door clicked, and she opened it, noticing a four tenths of a second pause between when the main power feed crashed and the secondary generator system kicked over. Four was two tenths longer than she needed.
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Explosions in the bunker made getting out much more of a chore than getting in; she had to practically dig her way through the collapsed hallway. Nao was hot and sweaty and covered in dirt by the time she pushed into the nighttime air. She coughed, immediately crouching until she had a better clue what was going on. It was quiet. Not a good sign. She peeked out of her hiding spot, wondering if Kuga and Fujino really had died. It could simplify things, or make them that much more complicated.
Nothing was stirring, only Nao quietly creeping between buildings, not sure which way she should be going. Fabric shifted and she froze, turning her head slightly. One of the snipers had his rifle planted squarely against his shoulder, the barrel aimed at her head. Nao summoned her Element, hand twitching as she prepared herself for a contest of speed. The sniper shook his head, lowering the weapon and pointed in the direction Kuga had taken, towards the airstrip. She remained glued to the spot, and he signaled with the hand that was pointing that she should go ahead, and he would follow. Her mouth opened and he is it a he? lifted a finger to his mouth. He drew a circle in the air with the same finger, lifted four fingers, put his hand on his chest, making a fist.
I have no fucking clue what that means. The man pointed to another black clad figure with a rifle, slinking around the corner. Ah. Four snipers were working their way through the buildings, taking care of stragglers, but it wasn't safe to talk yet. He motioned her to move on again, and this time she reluctantly followed his directions. Safety in numbers. Even so, it made her nervous to have someone at her back.
There was a great deal of excitement ahead of them; curious, she picked up her pace. Some part of her wanted to be there to witness Kuga getting her ass handed to her, see the mighty Fujino topple from her ivory throne. She'd pay to see that. The buildings thinned; she darted behind one of the abandoned supply trucks, watching the raven-haired girl take on the universe by herself. Nao grunted, annoyed. Kuga was doing too well, killing the men in a whirl of lead and kinetic energy. But where was Fujino? She blinked in surprise, recognizing the spill of tea-shaded hair at Natsuki's feet.
Shizuru… died? Her body started forward before she realized that she was moving, and a black-gloved hand restrained her, pushing her behind the truck. She shrugged the sniper off, glaring at him. Don't you mother fucking touch me. Nao fought to keep herself stationary as he retreated, not understanding what impetus had prompted her to rush forward. Her fingers gripped the metal along the side of the vehicle hard enough to warp it. Her heart raced, breath accelerating as she tugged against the tether; self-preservation demanded she stay put. Why?
The prone woman opened her eyes, lifted her head slightly. And relief washed through Nao, suffused her with a strengthless warmth. Not dead then. A shadow blocked out the moonlight; releasing her grip, Nao dropped to the ground, covering her head with her arms. She rolled under the truck, catching glimpses of Kuga transformed into a bipedal Cuisinart. Nao winced in spite of herself. She had no idea how Kuga managed to stay upright, roaring with fury as she kept the soldiers at bay, viciously tearing through their ranks. Even monsters have their limits – one of the men swung his rifle like a baseball bat, driving her to her knees; the dark haired girl fell forward, taking Fujino's hand in her own, and Nao's eyes narrowed, hoping the soldiers took their time – she wanted Kuga to suffer die.
A flash of silver, the sound of ripping cloth, the low, undulating cry of the beast come to rescue beauty – too little too late. Nao's eyes widened and she huddled into a smaller ball until the silence returned. The bitch must be dead, if her wolf is gone. Coast clear, she wriggled out from under her hiding place – no men, no snipers, no three-ton mecha gone haywire with grief. She walked over to the felled HiMEs, kicking Kuga's hand. No response, but her chest was still moving. Nao gnashed her teeth, reaching down to check Fujino for a pulse. Weak, but steady. The same sense of relief overflowed, spilling into a sigh and she laughed, wondering what the hell was wrong with her.
Well, beggars can't be choosers. She brushed the hair away from Shizuru's face, staring at her with her head turned to one side, and couldn't muster the sense of satisfaction she should rightfully have; nothing spoiled her tranquil appreciation of those soft, vulnerable features and she realized with growing consternation she was smiling. "Bakana."
Kuga was altogether different; when the redhead turned towards her, she was once again on stable footing – felt more like herself. She loathed this woman with a deep, abiding passion, wanted to punish her for existing, for always shuffling Nao into second place. Tate's words could be interpreted any number of ways: if their path couldn't be altered, if an alliance couldn't be forged, removing them entirely wasn't out of the question. And if it came to a choice between her mother and the thorn in her side… Nao's smile melted into a rapacious sneer, her eyes alight as she flicked her wrist, willed her Element into being, held the barb of her thumb over the closed lid one of those mocking emerald eyes.
She bit her lip with anticipation as her hand lowered, wanting to savor the moment, imagining the pleasure of Kuga's death as she writhed under Nao's glove. Something very large sent her sprawling; she landed on her back, skidded a few feet as the air was crushed out of her lungs in a startled wheeze. She coughed, trying to dislodge the rib collapsing weight atop her, lifted her hand reflexively to swipe at it. She finally managed to focus on the attacker, her pupils expanded in alarm as the metallic muzzle neatly clipped the daggers off the ends of her fingers, moved swiftly to snap that gigantic steel trap so close to her face it felt as though the suction of its motion should have removed the flesh from her skull.
Oil scented breath bathed her skin as the blazing crimson eyes pinned her, the sub-audible rumble emanating from deep within its throat vibrating through her bones. Her jaw clenched, and she bit her tongue, stifling the scream before she had a chance to embarrass herself by releasing it. The pressure increased as the mecha's paw ground her into the pavement, and she wondered if she was going to be squeezed to death, but it moved. She gasped for breath as it sat back on its haunches, eyeing her warily. Ok, how can a modified LCD convey such menace.
Obviously it wasn't going to let her have her revenge. Nao sat up and rubbed her chest. "Nice doggie. Good doggie. I wasn't going to do permanent damage." The growl gained intensity, raising the hairs on her arms and she backed away. Hell with them both. Brushing herself off, she got to her feet and walked away without a backwards glance, trying to remember where the idiot woman had parked her bike. She heard a rasping, scraping sound behind her and turned to see what the Child was up to, wishing she hadn't. It was following her, dragging Kuga and Fujino by their garments.
"Go away. I haven't forgotten what you did to me." The mechanical wolf rumbled, shifting its eyes between the unconscious HiMEs and Nao accusingly, and she crossed her arms over her chest. "It's not my problem, and I'm busy right now. Let District collect their booby prize, if they want them so badly." She turned on her heel and found her way back to the wire perimeter, climbed over the gate, working herself into a very bad mood. Ignoring the Child's antics was becoming increasingly difficult; that thing was still dragging them after her.
The motorcycle gleamed in the darkness just ahead, and she smiled triumphantly. It couldn't possibly continue pursuit once she started driving, not without risking the lives of its charges. Heat blew the hair away from her neck as the lumbering creature nudged her roughly, causing her to stumble. She was tempted to slam her fist into its queerly angular face, but she'd only break her wrist, and probably not even dent the metal.
The wolf bumped her again, pushing her towards the still bodies. She tried to move around it; it moved to counter, interposed itself between her and the promise of escape, braced its feet in a wide stance. An attack stance, she corrected herself. You stupid piece of shit. If I had Julia, I'd kick your tin can ass. She grunted, concentrating on her Child; the presence responded to her thoughts, but not the shape. Obviously there was more to summoning now. Kuga had a doggie treat in her pocket?
"I don't have time to play fetch and carry." The mecha didn't budge, merely lowered its head in a way her mind interpreted as 'hackles raised', and snapped at her every time she tried to worm past. Oh for fuck's sake. "Fine! Fine. I was going to bring them with me anyway," she shouted disgustedly. Duran wasn't going to let her leave without them.
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The sniper watched through his scope as the redhead struggled with the two unconscious HiMEs, ripping the sleeves off the kimono and knotting them together, tying this makeshift rope about their waists and leaning forward to keep everyone upright as she walked the motorcycle into motion, heading into the opposite direction. His finger slipped off the trigger as the trio disappeared into the distance.
His orders were to observe the red headed one's actions and use whatever force necessary to bring all three of them in alive should she decide to leave her fellow maidens behind. To his relief, she followed through, and subduing them became a moot point. He lifted his hand to his ear to open a connection. "They've gone. Yes sir, subject Yuuki took Fujino and Kuga with her when she left. Should we follow?" He was quiet for a moment, listening to the response, and he nodded. "Understood. The package was delivered. We will make sure they aren't disturbed."
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Sweat tried to drip into Nao's eyes and blur her vision as she jabbed the elongated tweezers into the slack form in front of her; she removed the misshapen lump of lead and tossed it into the bathroom sink. It bounced off the growing collection, clattered to the floor. The bowl she'd placed in the sink to catch these remnants held an impressive number when she'd finished with the honey-haired woman; now it was almost overflowing. I should have left them there. Should have waited until I was out of that mechanical menace's range and dumped them in a ditch someplace. She armed the sweat off her forehead with an angry grunt.
"All your fault, you stupid, selfish bitch." It was Natsuki's fault – her and her oversized lapdog. How did she even summon it in the first place? Another pointless mystery to distract herself with, but her thoughts were cunning, retraced their steps. She'd been perfectly content to let them rot, let events unfold as they would, freeing her from her obligations. She was sure she could've used spin to control the fallout, convince District that though it was regrettable to lose their precious weapons, she'd done everything in her power to avoid the situation. It would have been so much simpler, so much cleaner. Literally cleaner in this case – the bathroom looked like the prop room of a slasher film, spattered with drips and swirls of crimson, partially flooded from her attempts to wash Shizuru's injuries, gore sodden towels piled in a heap near the door.
Nao sighed, squinting to read the detailed instructions on how to correctly go about treating bullet wounds, searching the opening with her finger roughly for fragments of cloth or broken off bits of metal. The dark haired girl moaned, and she grimaced, resisting the urge to tear into her midsection, put her out of her misery permanently. This was completely unfair; she hadn't signed up for nursing duties, and caring for two critically wounded HiMEs was definitely not on her to do list.
Fucking Smith. She pulled out another oblong shaped mass and dumped it in the sink, grabbing a handful of raven hair and yanking the girl's head out of her way. Treating me like a three year old. Another clink into the bowl. Like I don't know how to take care of someone. A soft gasp of pain as she dug her finger a bit further into the hole than she needed to. Making this my personal responsibility. She glared at the woman lying across her lap, furiously checking to make sure she'd gotten the last of the shrapnel.
The care package had been waiting for her on the living room floor as she staggered into Fujino's apartment, carrying both women over her shoulder. After setting her benefactor on the couch and dumping Natsuki on the floor, she'd examined the large white box, discovering it contained a supply of medicines, syringes, gauze… a cornucopia of utensils and directions on how to use them in her new assignment – operation princess recovery. At the bottom of the box was a politely worded ultimatum, handwritten, offering both carrot and stick – help the HiMEs and Searrs will be delighted to assist in future endeavors, such as Valhalla, or refuse and they would sadly deliver evidence Nao hadn't been doing her job at all, that she'd been poking around District's restricted files instead. Signed with a flourish, with deepest regards, John Smith.
"So unfair. What the did I do deserve this?" She scoffed, lifting Kuga in her arms and hauled her into the shower, washing off the remainder of the blood caked to her body, pushing the woman's face into the tiles and she double checked her handiwork. "What makes you so special?" Absolutely nothing. She was ordinary in every way, from unattractively pale skin to drab, rumpled hair. Satisfied, Nao smirked, wrapped the greater portion of the limp form in layers of gauze, gave her the second series of shots – some sort of high protein, painkiller cocktail Searrs produced to speed along the knitting of muscle tissue.
She carried her burden into the bedroom, threw Natsuki onto the unoccupied side of the bed, and checked on Shizuru, smoothed the sand-shaded tresses out of her face, carefully slipping them behind an ear. Frowning thoughtfully, she pondered what sort of nourishment the older woman used to sustain her metabolism – each of them had their own personal preference: Nao pretty much ran on junk food and protein bars. Natsuki's was simple; everyone knew she loved mayonnaise, but the only staple of Fujino's diet was tea. Obviously there was nothing beneficial in the beverage itself, so it must be something added to it. Some form of sugar?
The redhead lifted Shizuru's wrist, reassuring herself the woman was indeed recuperating; her pulse was much stronger. She stood silhouetted in the dawn light, holding the smaller hand in her own for a moment before returning it to its previous position. Kuga sprawled across half the bed, slumped into an uncomfortable position and her mouth drew down in displeasure. She could always leave her like that, but, on the off chance the Fujino awakened first, it seemed better to give the appearance of taking care of her pet as well. All she needed was another lecture; she shoved Natsuki under the blanket, arranged it around her, and stretched. Everything would be better after a bath and a meal – she couldn't stand having that woman's blood on her a second longer.
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Walking around the campus was a trip down memory lane. Were she leading someone from one spot to another, she might point to a certain building and say – and this was where I caught two students smoking, and explained the dangers of falling into addiction, or a rooftop and say – and this was where I was unjustly put on probation for the events during the Mixed Junior High Special Summer Cooking Re-exam. That being, it was both nostalgic and depressing, and her expressions suggested such, turned her mouth up at the corners in wistful reflection – a smile that didn't reach her eyes.
She'd tried to reach Youko, but the nurse was away for the day, probably having gone to the beach to enjoy the last few days of sunshine before the rains started in earnest. Hitting the bars without me. She sighed, trailing her hands over the bleached stone of the Director's garden gazebo, the impromptu central meeting spot for the Rangers. When we were still friends. The membership had dwindled towards the end of the Carnival, until there were two, she and Mai. And then there were none.
Midori left right after recovering from Mikoto's attack, wanting to grasp her new future with both hands, hold it inflexibly, unwilling to sacrifice even a moment of this second chance brooding over the past. She'd written post cards, passed letters and a few phone calls with those comfort allowed, but like the Rangers themselves, it had all fallen apart, like a rope fraying under the strain of too heavy a burden, and when she turned her hands over, looking into her palms, all she saw were the shades of a few sickly strands.
Head tilted back, she attempted to cling to the now, let the past flow around her with the scent of the flowering hedges, enfolding this space in its own private cosmos. She launched herself off the pillar she'd been reclining on, making her way back to the Academy as quickly as she could, jogging around the dormitories, skirting the athletic field and the pool.
The entrance to the library was large and imposing, carried an air of guarded secrets and bided, malicious intent. She shook her head and pushed past this invisible barrier, studying the winding staircases, the book lined walls. This place was old, laden with sorrow and futility. Older than Fuuka. Midori couldn't quite seize the sensation, but she'd felt it before. At the shrine, in Mikoto's presence as her Child was destroyed. The inexorable pulsation of fate, permeating and binding her to its will. She walked across the marbled floor, studying the room intently. This was it, the gates to the Land of Fuka, Kokuyouguu, or so she'd been told. Whatever opening may once have existed was long sealed – the only break in the reflective surface of the floor was the face of a giant timepiece.
It was an odd looking thing, faintly molded in the pattern of a collapsible bowl, covered in a thick layer of glass. Symbols were etched in the stone under the hands, but she couldn't make them out. There were several dials of varying shape, which could be moved, or had moved at one time, in concentric rings, as if it were a Chinese puzzle, matching symbol to symbol in some unknown pattern. The clock of destiny. She laughed softly, kneeling to get a better look. It wasn't designed to tell time; there were numbers along the outside edge, as one would expect, but they ascended from one to thirteen instead of stopping at twelve. Curiouser and curiouser.
Both the big and little hands, for want of a better phrase, had stopped on the twelve, and what she supposed was the second hand was frozen a fraction after. I really wish I could get a better look at those pictograms. So thinking, she let her fingertips wander around the edges of the glass, searching for a seam or groove, a depression she could use to lift the crystal, to no avail. The glass was flush with the floor. She brushed her hands against her thighs, preparing to stand up when the heartbeat started anew. The smallest hand jerked forward a tick, the inner wheel sliding to match, and she staggered, gasping for breath.
The concussion of force expanded with a wrenching, bell-like toll, rippling outward from the nexus where she stood – in her mind, she watched this energy swallow the whole of the land, and she stared at the clock wide-eyed and fearful, wondering if she'd been the cause. She scrambled away, taking a seat on the stairs to see if the hands would move again, but after ninety minutes of horrified vigil, it was apparent whatever time it kept, whatever actions it measured, had nothing to do with the hours of man.
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Miyu. The golden flame danced in front of her eyes as her system restarted, bringing with it a wash of memories she had no recall of doing, no log certify these were, in fact, her own. She waited patiently for the upload to complete, settle into their accustomed places in her mind, running a diagnostic routine as she 'd been programmed to when a large influx of data became available.
"Systems check complete. This unit is operating at one hundred fifteen percent optimization." Her voice was distant, devoid of meaning, echoing off the walls of the empty storage facility. Restore the hierarchy of orders. She twitched as her system rebooted a second time, leaving only the logic circuits functional. In this way, she was aware of each program, each directive and process as it came back online; the progression was much slower the second time, and she tilted her head curiously once motor function became available. She had many more utilities than she'd been aware of, prior to this moment, and she meticulously incorporated the new abilities.
Miyu. The voice repeated, and this time recognition accompanied it. "Ojousama." Come find me. I'm on the bottom floor of the medical wing. "Confirmed, Alyssa Searrs call. Emergency. Unlock all high speed memory."
The glass shattered as the android sprang from the fourth floor window, leaping from building to building until she located the laboratories. She punched her fist through the access door, tore it from its hinges and jumped down the stairwell shaft, landing in a crouch, followed the soft, flickering light in a blur of motion, stopping when she came to an air duct. "Ojousama." The grill imbedded itself in the wall as she tossed it away, frantic with worry.
"I'm here, Miyu." The blond girl held out her hands and Miyu gathered her into her arms, cradled her gently as the child burrowed her head under the android's chin. They remained in this pose for the length it took to soothe the fears, reassure they were unharmed and happy to be in one another's company once more. "Do you remember everything? I know they tried to make you forget."
"Yes." Miyu pulled her protectively close. "My memory is restored."
"Do you know who the Director of the company is?" Twin sapphires tilted up to look into her face, and she smiled at the child lovingly, tousling the pale blond hair.
"John Smith, former head of the publicity sector. He removed the man who replaced your father, and took the position of Chairman." So. The serpent was loose in the garden.
"Carry me?" The android nodded, and Alyssa wrapped her arms around Miyu's neck. Regressive and insecure, she preferred not being separated from her guardian again, not even for the distance to Smith's office. "Let's go see him, then. I have something I want to ask."
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Boredom was taking its toll, making her restless and jittery. Nao'd done everything she could think of to keep herself occupied: cleaned and aired out the bathroom, done the laundry, straightened the rest of the house, read, shopped for groceries. Fujino didn't have instant anything; Nao had no idea how the woman survived, had the effort, time or patience to prepare things from scratch, but now the kitchen was properly stocked with Doritos and granola bars, protein shakes and coffee. On a whim, she'd picked up a few cans of sweetened condensed milk, sharing it between Shizuru and herself. It was pretty good, and after the initial blech response, she'd even managed to get a little down Kuga, who, of course, only wanted mayo. Nao wrinkled her nose heathen gagging under the remembered stink. The color and consistency reminded her too closely of other substances, made her nauseous.
Nao burned the clothes she'd been wearing in the backyard, debated wearing some of the honey-haired woman's clothing, but rifled through Kuga's belongings instead. The fit was closer, and even though it was a bit big on her, she was able to cinch a belt around her waist and move around without tripping. I can't believe I'm wearing her shit; it even smells like her.
She paced, watched TV, played java Pac-Man. Too much time to think. She could go home to get her sleeping pills, but it was a long way, and it was getting dark again. What was a second sleepless night looking after people she despised? She sat down and flipped open her cell phone, messaging a dozen or so promising email acquaintances, teasingly hinting at things best left to the imagination. But not even the vivid, mildly erotic thrill of constructing daydreams; what she would do to these men once they were caught helpless in her web, slaves to whatever mercy she felt inclined to bestow as she punished them for their stupidity, their arrogance, could distract her.
What if District decided it wasn't worth the gamble, killed her mother instead of waiting around for Nao? She pulled her knees up to her chest, glancing down the darkened hallway. Her patients were almost fully recovered; it would only be another day at the most, and they'd return to their lives. Where would that leave Nao? Out in the cold, like always, struggling to play catch up and keep up at the same time. Would they help her get her mother? Not fucking likely. Shizuru treated her like an unwanted child, a cur, a servant, and Kuga… didn't even count.
There was still time to fix things – she weighed the consequences. If she delivered their bodies, she could collect her mother. After Fujino's attack on their base, it would be painfully obvious they were too difficult to control, so she'd be doing them a favor. Smith's attempted blackmail wouldn't make a difference. Sure, she'd be losing her gravy boat, but what use was it when her mother was held hostage? 'What does one do with a broken teacup?' She wouldn't get another chance to take them out; once they regained consciousness she had few illusions about her chances of winning a direct confrontation, and something had shifted. Their power was based on the strength of emotion. If Natsuki stopped suffocating her attraction, if she accepted there was a richer bond than friendship…
Nao closed her eyes, trembling. It hurt to think about that. Fuck it. I can't take the risk. She inhaled deeply, walking quickly to the closed bedroom door and turned the handle, wincing at the small creak as it opened. The pair were entwined, demonstrating equal portions of possessiveness towards one another, and Nao's mouth curled sullenly. This is for the best, I'm sure of it. She eyed Kuga warily; the girl had phenomenal healing abilities – she'd taken four times the beating Shizuru had, and was closer to being well. Nao grunted, dismissing the dark haired girl from her thoughts as she moved to stand over Fujino, watching her face as fingers curled over the pillow that had fallen off the bed, clutched it tightly between sweating hands, lowering it towards the sleeping figure.
She could have used her Element, but she didn't want to cause pain. Not this time. She wanted it to be peaceful, just… slipping into a deeper sleep. Nao owed her caregiver that much, a gentle death. The figure shifted and her heart rose, tattooing her fear into the flesh of her neck. Her muscles locked; she couldn't move, couldn't bring the pillow closer to the relaxed, pacific face no matter how much effort she put into the motion, and she ground her teeth, uttering a hurt, betrayed grunt of dissatisfaction. Why can't I? Why why why? Breath hissed between her teeth as she inhaled, kneeling beside the bed, let the pillow drop form her hands.
Something. Her body leaned closer, one hand caressing Shizuru's cheek as she tilted the face in her direction; what am I doing? jade disappeared behind lowered lashes as their lips met. Nao sighed, curling her fingers in the downy hair at the nape of the neck, pulling them closer, tingling with unexpected eagerness as she tasted the sweetness of her breath.
"Natsuki…" The word burned her as it whispered through their joined lips, and the redhead jerked her head back, overflowing with loathing, for herself, for the object of her fascination, for the realization of her weakness. So – this is why. Bitter laughter dissolved into sobs; grabbing the pillow in her hand, she stood as the crimson eyes opened, focusing on her. She shivered, tears spilling down her cheeks, drowning in the eyes of the woman she wanted, and couldn't have always her, always Kuga getting what she wanted, filled with a numb acceptance. Fingers clenched, her arm shaking, Nao needed to deny her own compulsions, to remove the greatest source of her torment, but she was powerless to do so. I hate you. I hate you!
"I can't even kill you. Can't… have…" Teeth closed over the words, and the pillow fell to the floor. Shizuru was silent, staring up at her would be murderer emotionlessly. They're the wrong shade of green. The figure who'd been hovering over her melted back into the shadows, its departure echoing through the room as the door slammed, and she drifted back into fitful slumber, wondering who would try to awaken her with a kiss.