A/N: A lot of people asked for Fushimi in pain and/or distress, so here it is - Fushimi so incapacitated he couldn't even get his hackles up for half the chapter. Sorry, Fushimi.

CHAPTER XXI

The Art of Provocation

'… He must hurry on, but the path was bad, worse than he had believed it.

He dared not canter on such a slippery surface. …'

('South Riding' - Winifred Holtby)

†

'I can't see why I got landed with this job,' Fushimi mumbled. He and Lieutenant Awashima - who was called in shortly after him - were putting fresh hay into the three empty stalls while the three new horses waited outside, tethered to a post.

Apparently Fushimi assumed his voice was low enough not to carry across the wall, but it did, partly because he wasn't paying attention, and partly because Awashima happened to be at the fence nearby. Awashima looked in Fushimi's direction, 'Since you called it a "job", I should expect more commitment and less complaint from you.'

Fushimi clicked his tongue and didn't argue. Awashima finished her share and went outside to get the horses. She knew where they came from. All three horses were purchased from the same club and had participated in numerous competitions. What Awashima didn't understand, however, was why the Captain chose such pricey racing horses over ordinary plough horses.

Another hour passed before they finished. Two of the new horses seemed to have a grudge against each other and didn't want to live next door, which took Awashima a painfully long while to sort out. When she came out of the stables, she spotted Fushimi sitting by the post where they had tethered the horses.

'You could have helped a bit,' her tone was icy.

'You didn't tell me you needed help,' Fushimi stood up with a weariness that Awashima didn't remember seeing in anyone else at Scepter 4. At least, not in anyone his age. She eyed him critically.

'I heard from the Captain that you have been working fairly hard recently.'

'So?'

'There may be two reasons behind this,' said Awashima. 'One is that you have a strong sense of commitment, and the other is that you are not as efficient as you used to be because of stress.' She didn't miss the way Fushimi snorted at the word 'commitment', 'Which of these, do you think, applies to you?'

'If you can't stand the sight of me, just spit it out and I'll leave straight away.'

'I never said that.'

'Fine.'

Awashima tried a different tactic. 'You should take care of yourself a bit.'

For a moment, Fushimi peered at her as though he genuinely didn't understand what she meant. They hadn't been in much contact recently, but Awashima, being second-in-command, was aware of what Fushimi had been up to. Impressed she might be with what Fushimi had achieved, she wasn't impressed with the lengths he went to get things done. She turned to look at Fushimi again, but he was no longer with her. He had stopped by the heaters in the cafeteria.

'It's late. Go back to your room.'

'In a minute. I have stuff to do here,' Fushimi's evasive voice was enough to arouse Awashima's suspicions.

'What sort of "stuff"?'

'Some… follow-up on the Strain-irrelevant incidents from last month - I mean January.'

Awashima didn't need her two year experience as second-in-command of a police organisation to recognise that Fushimi made a terrible liar. Fushimi was eyeing her as if she was an apex predator; it was the same when he had tried to sneak out on his own before that Orange infiltration mission. The evidence was clear: no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't lie to her.

†

Awashima barely suppressed a shudder as Fushimi opened the door to his room. It was like stepping into a freezer. Immediately she noticed the window was open, and there was a thin sheen of moisture on the floor by the wall - snow had drifted in from the open window.

'You can try sleeping in here for one night if you want to,' Fushimi mumbled.

'Close the window.'

Fushimi obeyed. Awashima couldn't help but suspect that Fushimi was merely humouring her until she arrived at the same conclusion that this room was inhabitable at this time of the year. If so, he was winning - closing the window didn't help one bit: as the air stagnated, the chill began to seep into her bones.

'I will inspect a few other rooms to see if they are the same,' Awashima said, returning to the corridor outside.

'I'm not sure if that's a good idea. Some retards would go berserk if a female boss visits at such an hour,' Fushimi's voice was very dry.

'You should not call your work colleague a retard.'

'I'm calling them what they are.'

'Fushimi!'

Fushimi threw in the towel under Awashima's glare. She watched him leave the corridor, before turning to the room next to his.

It was close to midnight when Awashima finished her rounds of inspection. Most of the rooms had poor insulation, but the inhabitants had invariably done one thing or another to remedy the situation as best as they could. Some wore extra jumpers, some had electric blankets, and some took to having a long hot bath before going to bed. Fushimi was the only one who simply let the situation overwhelm him. Either that, or he didn't understand he was perfectly capable of doing something - anything - to make himself feel better. Awashima remembered the bemusement on Fushimi's face when she mentioned he should take care of himself a bit. She went down to the cafeteria.

Fushimi sat huddled by the heaters, not moving. He had practically folded himself up so that he could fit into the crevice between the heaters and the corner of the wall, where he could hide in the shadows and melt into the background. As she looked at him, it dawned on Awashima that she wouldn't have noticed Fushimi at all if she hadn't known he was somewhere near the heaters. Apart from the warmth, she couldn't think of anywhere less comfortable to spend a night. But somehow she couldn't bring herself to make a sound, or do anything to wake Fushimi so she could lecture him on what he should do to make his room a bit more inhabitable. She went back to her own room with a sigh.

†

Benzai stood at the mirror and studied his reflection. The weeks after the New Year Operations (their codename for what happened in January) had seen him working long hours indoors, catching up on the huge amount of training sessions he - and sometimes Akiyama - was in charge of. Benzai was not surprised at what he saw in the mirror: the need for sun was top of the list. He returned to his desk and checked his schedule. He had the morning off, followed by a tailored fencing session in the afternoon. He had to spend the morning somewhere off the premises, or risk exhibiting signs of acute cabin fever during his fencing session when he should have been at his best.

It was barely seven o'clock. Benzai left a note at Akiyama's pillow and left the room. As he went downstairs to the cafeteria, he thought about what he could do for the next few hours. He could get a car, and drive to the seaside or the country. In either case, he had to be off somewhere so he could get fresh air and a bit of sun exposure.

There was apparently no one in the cafeteria, and for some reason it felt hotter than the night before. Benzai examined the wall-mounted heaters: they had been left on all night. He switched them off one by one. The control panel beeped twice, the sound uncomfortably loud in the deserted room.

A shuffling sound from the other side of the heaters caught Benzai's attention. A rat? A stray cat? Benzai had been living here for two years and had never seen any. Perhaps this was why Lieutenant Awashima came to inspect the dorm rooms the previous night.

He bent over the crevice between the heaters and the corner of the wall. The shuffling grew louder, and something much larger than a cat shifted in the shadows. Before Benzai could make a move, it lost balance and fell ungainly to the floor at his feet, sporting mussed-up hair, lopsided glasses and a look of groggy disorientation.

'Fushimi?'

Fushimi's eyes fell on Benzai and widened for a fraction of a second. Then he moved so fast that all Benzai could see was a blur of colours. But Fushimi didn't get to his feet - the movement terminated with a loud gasp and Fushimi reappeared, lying on his side and curled into a ball. He seemed trapped, unable to move.

'Are you all right?'

Benzai's voice spurred Fushimi into further struggle. With an enormous effort, he heaved himself onto his back and attempted to sit up. But he appeared to have lost control of his limbs, and instead of sitting up, he toppled to his side again, reminding Benzai of an upturned turtle that tried yet failed to right itself. Benzai took a step forward and stretched out a hand to pull Fushimi up, who sensed his motive and reacted by shrinking from him so fast that he hit his head against the wall.

'What were you doing here by the heaters?'

Benzai knew how hard it was to get a reply out of Fushimi about anything, but ask he did, unable to help himself. Fushimi sat with his back to the wall, panting, eyeing Benzai like a wild animal, trapped and worn out, yet biding its time for another counterattack.

'Why are you here?' Fushimi's voice was icy cold.

Benzai was stumped. 'I was just passing by.'

'Then resume passing by and get out of my sight.'

Benzai was offended. He didn't have the patience of a saint like his roommate, and he didn't appreciate rudeness as an exchange for his desire to help. He stood up, towering over Fushimi who sat and was now eyeing him with more unease than anger.

'Fine. Shouldn't have intruded.'

'What's going on here?'

Both Benzai and Fushimi turned their heads to find Lieutenant Awashima by the foot of the stairs. At the sight of her, Fushimi let out a frustrated hiss, and Benzai stood still, unrepentant. 'Just saying hello to Fushimi here,' he said with a tone that suggested otherwise. Awashima sensed it, and her brow knitted.

'It sounds like you two were arguing.'

'No,' said Benzai without bothering to make his voice less argumentative. He was a bit take aback at this uncontrolled display of temper. He really needed to spend his morning off work before his stress could get the better of him. 'I was just coming downstairs and saw Fushimi by the heaters,' he amended, wondering if his voice sounded as matter-of-fact to Awashima as it did to him.

Apparently, it didn't. Awashima gave him a stern look, 'I expected better of you,' then turned to Fushimi. 'And you should sit still until you regain your motor skills. Given the fact that you sat holed up in that corner all night, I'm surprised you are able to move at all.'

Fushimi ceased struggling, and sat slumped against the wall with a mixed expression of pain and frustration. Suddenly, it dawned on Benzai why Fushimi had behaved the way he did. He was having cramps in every part of his body. Benzai had memories of sleeping hunched over his desk and waking up feeling his arms were about to fall off. He couldn't imagine experiencing that in every nook and cranny of his body.

'Sorry,' he said to Fushimi, who merely glanced in his general direction, looking defeated.

'Don't you have the morning off?' Awashima interjected. 'Make sure to keep your stress level in check while you are at it.'

Benzai left the cafeteria, feeling, as he rarely did, a tad mortified. He was glad it was only Awashima and Fushimi who were involved. Awashima might be strict, but Benzai could trust her to keep confidences. And Fushimi - Benzai's stomach churned with a mixture of guilt and relief at the thought - was simply too antisocial to find the whole affair worth retelling. Benzai wished he had caught on quicker about Fushimi's condition and kept his temper. The image of him standing over a defenceless Fushimi resembled bullying too much for his peace of mind.

He wondered what his roommate Akiyama would say about the matter, but wasn't mentally prepared to let him know. Not yet. Perhaps not ever.

Awashima leant against the wall and crossed her arms. 'Well?'

Fushimi clicked his tongue, 'Well what?'

'Are you planning to sleep cramped up here for another night?'

'I could go to a hostel, or a night cafe, but I don't think I'm allowed to.'

'So you admit the fact that you can't sleep in this little corner.'

'Why should I?'

Awashima rubbed between her eyebrows, where a headache was forming and beginning to nibble at her train of thought. 'Get to your feet.'

'You said to stay still.'

'Just do as I say.'

Fushimi obeyed, albeit a little wobbly. The moment he pushed himself away from the wall, however, his knees gave out and he fell in a heap at Awashima's feet. Awashima moved aside, giving Fushimi some space to rally.

'Do you still think you can pull off sleeping here for another night?'

'No,' Fushimi's voice was a strange mixture of resigned and vindictive.

'I have heard stories of people becoming semi-paralysed from sleeping in an awkward posture' said Awashima. 'If the damage is severe, the local nervous system may never recover. Do you want to end up like that?'

'No.' This time, Fushimi's voice was devoid of emotion.

Awashima sighed. When she next spoke, her voice was softer, 'I will think of something about the condition of your room. Before I get back to you, you may go to a hostel if it gets too cold at night.'

'It's a lot colder this year.'

'I'm glad you noticed.'

Fushimi didn't get a chance to reply. His PDA was beeping. He took it out and pulled a face. When he answered, he didn't sound annoyed, just reluctant. And from that, Awashima was able to figure out whose call it was.

'It looks like you have to move on, literally,' she observed as Fushimi ended the call.

'I'm not falling on my face when that person is watching.'

'Well, it appears that you are not in any condition to decline when that person wants you in his office,' said Awashima. 'I'm on my way there, anyway. I can explain if you want me to.'

'Don't bother.'

'What does the Captain want?'

'A spectacle.'

'Excuse me?'

Fushimi let out a huff of frustration. 'Nothing.'

†

Fushimi couldn't think of anything worse than what he was going through at the moment. He felt wrong. His whole body felt wrong, all misaligned bones and rusty joints grinding into sockets where they weren't supposed to be. The only time he felt his body was actually his was when he made the attempt to stand up, because then his bones would creak and cramp and take revenge by not responding to his brain, a situation he was well used to when he was tired, or ill.

He stared at the pair of boots at his eye level. They didn't belong to Awashima. They belonged to the one and only person in front of whom he would never, ever slip up. And then, as if guessing his thoughts and determined to make him feel worse, the boots dipped, retreating behind the knees as the person lowered himself to catch Fushimi's eye. And Fushimi was forced to look into the smiling, bespectacled face of his boss.

Instinctively, Fushimi tensed, and the tension failed to trigger its usual fight-or-flight response in him because his limbs were still held captive by an army of pins and needles.

'Lieutenant Awashima informed me of your situation,' Munakata began, his tone so pleasant Fushimi wanted to punch him in the face.

'I'm alright. Leave me alone.'

'If my memory is correct, you said the same thing last time this happened to you,' Munakata smiled. 'I never got to tell you on the spot, but you did destroy my half-finished puzzle board when you chose to stand up and then collapse at the most inopportune moment.'

Fushimi understood what Munakata was talking about, and remembered it himself vividly. He didn't merely fall 'at the most inopportune moment'; he fell face-first in front of the man who would end up his future boss, before almost killing one of his subordinates without meaning to. He wished Munakata wouldn't looked at him at eye level like he was some sort of rare and interesting species in a bio lab.

'What do you want me to do?' he asked, hoping the topic of work would diffuse Munakata's attention.

'Legwork, unfortunately.'

Fushimi flushed with frustration. He couldn't help it, and the fact that he realised it made it worse. The teasing in Munakata's smile grew more pronounced. 'Would you like a cup of tea?'

'What?'

'I heard that the minerals in tea help restore the electrolytes in the body to their natural equilibrium. That numbness you are experiencing is caused by the unbalanced electrolytes in your bloodstream. Or so I think.'

Fushimi knew there was only one way to stop Munakata's nonsensical lectures, and that was to accept whatever he wanted to offer. When Munakata returned with the tea, Fushimi was relieved that he chose to stand nearby, rather than lower himself in front of Fushimi and watch him at eye level like he did before.

'How long have you been like this?' Munakata asked.

'Since Benzai woke me up.'

'Mr Benzai?'

'He came down and switched off the heaters. That woke me.'

'Were you sleeping next to the heaters?'

'Yes.'

Munakata shifted to look at the little crevice between the heaters and the corner of the wall. 'It amazes me that you could fit in here at all.'

Fushimi's eyes followed Munakata's. Now that he was out of it, he couldn't help but wonder the same thing.

'This looks worse than sitting on your legs and putting too much tension on them.'

'Can't you stop mentioning that time in the van?' Fushimi was getting annoyed. Munakata was still in the mood for winding him up, and was, to Fushimi's dismay, succeeding at an alarming rate.

'Still, looks can be deceiving. You are likely to have regained control of your legs without realising it. Have a go.'

'No.'

'There is no half-finished puzzle board to fall onto and destroy this time.'

Something at the back of Fushimi's mind snapped. A rush of anger and humiliation coursed through him. He reared up, his back against the wall, his knees tingling, protesting at the sudden motion, but didn't buckle. The fact that he was now able to stay upright escaped his notice as he glared at Munakata.

'I said, stop bringing up what happened in that van!'

'Keep your voice down and drink your tea.'

'Did you not - '

'You heard me.'

Fushimi eyed Munakata, who raised his eyebrows in a wordless command. Fushimi was aware that under normal circumstances, Munakata tolerated his behaviours to a certain extent. This, however, was different. Whether Munakata felt the need to rein him in, or for some reason refused to humour him further, Fushimi didn't know, but he had been given the signal to stay down, and having vented his feelings, he was now calm enough to visualise the consequence of disobeying. He didn't want that.

The confrontation lasted no longer than the blink of an eye. Fushimi backed off, leaning against the wall, and Munakata's expression relaxed into a polite, if slightly distant, smile.

'How are you feeling?'

It took Fushimi a moment to realise Munakata was referring to his leg cramps. They were still present, but had subsided enough to become manageable. Fushimi sipped his tea, 'What do you want me to do?'

'As I said, legwork,' Munakata resumed. 'I have a list of places that I would like you to visit. You know that I purchased three horses from a racing club?'

'So?'

'Lieutenant Awashima asked me why I spent a considerable amount of budget on racing horses.'

'Because you can,' Fushimi snorted.

'I did it for a good reason,' Munakata said cryptically. 'It is my way of earning the trust of certain people, so you will have the permission to visit certain places for a snoop.'

'I gather these places are on your list?'

'Yes, among many others.'

'Is this one of your unofficial secret missions?'

'You know I would enlist your help for none other than that.'

Fushimi pondered this. 'When's the deadline?'

'Take it slowly. Swift actions on your behalf may attract unwanted attention.'

'You haven't given me a scenario. I wouldn't know what I had to visit those places for.'

'You will receive instructions by and by,' said Munakata. 'Promise me one thing: never tell anyone about this, especially Lieutenant Awashima. There are aspects to it that she may find… disagreeable.'

†

Fushimi never realised he would be right in predicting that the weather this year was much colder than the previous year. His room remained freezing at night until it was well into mid-spring, although for most of the time he remained oblivious to it. If there was one benefit about his new snoop mission, it was that it required him to travel extensively and sometimes spend the night away from the headquarters, in a hostel or pretty much any place of his liking. Those places had built-in central heating and air conditioning, which meant he actually got to sleep in a proper bed without freezing his toes off or ending up having cramps.

As per the mission itself, it was cryptic as usual. Like the Mogura investigation, Munakata sent Fushimi instructions over the PDA, and instead of letting him have the whole picture, left him in the dark where it didn't concern him or his progress. However, Fushimi wasn't stupid. From what he had been doing, he could gather what Munakata wanted him to do. So far, the investigations centred around the club where Munakata bought the horses, but Fushimi could see that to go deeper, he would have to approach the breeders that supplied the horses. Munakata seemed to suspect Strain involvement in how the horses were raised and traded, and that in itself was enough to complicate matters.

Munakata was also right in maintaining that Fushimi take his time. Wheedling information out of people wasn't something that could be done on the spur of the moment. An instruction as simple as 'track down a top racer's vaccination record' could take days to carry out, partly because racing horses were highly sought after, and partly because some 'customers' were actually tax inspectors in disguise, whom the dealers avoided like the plague.

According to Munakata, Strain criminals had become increasingly active since the New Year mayhem. Many conspired with ordinary criminals and specialised in stirring things up undercover. During the course of his 'snoop', Fushimi had heard news of the Metropolitan Police CID being caught up in a child abduction case that was actually a Strain incident. He didn't know whether Scepter 4 was still on collaborating terms with the Metropolitan Police, but he did know that Munakata was aware of everything that happened on both sides, and tweaked his actions accordingly. For his current investigation, Fushimi played the role of a horse dealer who was interested in purchasing the club where Munakata got his three racers.

One afternoon in May, Fushimi returned to the headquarters from his week-long stint in the country for a briefing session with Munakata. He had spent the week at a farm owned by two breeders he bad been dogging, and had to arrange endless appointments with them just to show he was genuinely interested in the mares that were about to foal. He was able to return to Tokyo because he had managed to strike a deal with the breeders so that the foals wouldn't be sold to another dealer (whom Munakata suspected). It cost him somewhat: he had to leave the car as a form of security deposit and return to Tokyo by train. But since the car was registered under Munakata's name, Fushimi didn't suffer too much financially.

The weather was getting warm. When Fushimi entered the headquarters, he was greeted by the sound of Swords members training in the open field. There were also cherry petals on the tarmac, late in season by almost two months compared to the previous year.

Fushimi trailed the trodden petals to the backdoor of the office building so he didn't have to face the mass of Swords members. From the training ground, he heard the sound of a whistle, then muffled voices, followed by a clearer voice that was distinctly female - Awashima's. She seemed to be scolding someone.

The briefing was short. There wasn't a lot to talk about, as Fushimi usually exchanged intel with Munakata via the PDA. The main aim was to renew Fushimi's premium membership as a trusted racing horse dealer. Fushimi had no idea how much money Munakata forked out just to set him up like that. He decided he didn't really want to know, either.

Half an hour later, Fushimi left the office building, armed with his membership certificate and another car key. He had to drive back to the country and spend the night there. As he headed towards the garage, he passed the training field. It was almost deserted, save for a lone figure in some sort of dojo or karate uniform. It was doing laps, a white dot against the crimson-gold background of the setting sun. Inexorably, Fushimi's mind drifted back half an hour earlier when he heard Awashima scolding someone mid-training. Something told him that this person was the one Awashima had scolded, and the laps were his punishment. Fushimi squinted his eyes as the figure came closer: it caught a glimpse of him but didn't pay attention, and was soon turning in the other direction back towards the other side of the training field. It was a man Fushimi had never met before, and there was a certain springiness in his footsteps that reminded Fushimi of a restless, energetic puppy.

†

Hidaka left the cafeteria and made a beeline for the outdoor training field. The sight of Kusuhara sprawled on the ground and soaked in sweat didn't surprise him. He nudged Kusuhara with a foot, 'Get up.'

Kusuhara made a valiant effort to obey, but failed. Hidaka flopped to the ground beside him and began taking out sandwich after sandwich from the paper bag he was holding.

'Did you get the rice balls?' Kusuhara asked.

'Nope. They are sold out.'

'I thought I smelled something nice.'

'That'd be the tuna sarnies. Want one?'

Kusuhara heaved himself up with a sigh, 'I'm not getting anywhere here, am I?'

'What do you mean?'

Kusuhara took a bite of the sandwich in his hand; then, 'I've been here for ages, and I'm always the one that gets punished for not catching up, or not doing things properly because I just can't seem to get it right. And it doesn't matter what type of training I'm in for. It happens all the time.'

Something in Kusuhara's voice caused Hidaka to turn and look at him. To Hidaka, Kusuhara was the sort of person who always kept a positive outlook on everything. It never occurred to Hidaka that Kusuhara would admit to 'not getting anywhere' with an expression of genuine defeat.

'You'll get better,' said Hidaka, stuffing another sandwich into Kusuhara's hand. 'You need food to cheer you up. How many laps did you do today?'

'A hundred.'

'It's not a bad thing. Imagine you do a hundred laps each day. The rest of us never get to do that, so one day you will end up the king of laps and we'd have to form a league to beat you on stamina.'

'But doing well in laps isn't what I'm here for,' Kusuhara's voice was very low.

'What are you here for, then?'

'That wasn't what I wanted to say. Forget it. I - '

'Doesn't matter. What do you think you're here for?'

Kusuhara looked trapped, but Hidaka prompted him, prompted again. Kusuhara sighed, 'I - well, when I first joined, I thought it would mean that I'd get to use the Blue Power like the rest of you. Then I'd be able to fight the Strain criminals. But I never thought it'd be this hard to learn the ropes. I've been training hard for months now, and still I can't wield my Blue Power like the rest of you.'

Hidaka frowned, 'It takes a while to get used to it. Why are you in such a hurry?'

'I didn't say I was.'

'You did.'

'I didn't.'

'Did too.'

Kusuhara hung his head. 'Fine. I wrote to my old boss from the riot squad the other day.'

'You're changing the subject.'

'I'm not. I thought Mr Kimura - that's my old boss - was back on duty because his leg wound from that Strain incident last summer had long healed. But he wasn't at work.'

Hidaka failed to see where this was going, but Kusuhara resumed before Hidaka could interrupt him, 'My email got forwarded to another riot squad officer, who told me Mr Kimura left the riot squad earlier this year because his leg never healed and he's got a permanent limp. But he never told me. When I emailed him after new year, he said everything was fine, and that he believed I'm doing well here, but I'm not.'

Hidaka sat back and pondered this. Finally he said, 'I'm sorry about your old boss, but I still don't see why it's got anything to do with you having to speed up your training. I used to do a lot of laps too. I guess you just have to plough through. Just try get around that block you're facing.'

Kusuhara was silent for a long time. Then very slowly, he got to his feet, wincing a little as he did.

'Where are you going?' Hidaka asked.

'The training room.'

Hidaka sprang up, 'You're not training at night?'

Kusuhara turned to look at him, 'If I'm not getting anywhere, it might be because I'm not doing it right. Maybe I'll fare better when I'm alone.'

Hidaka stared. Then, as if realising something, his face split into a huge grin. 'I get it. You are nervous around the lieutenant.'

'What? No!'

'You are. She happens to supervise most of your training and you always mess it up because you are nervous around her. That's why you think you might get better when she's not around. Do you fancy her?'

Even in the dark, Hidaka could see Kusuhara blushing scarlet. 'I don't!'

'Do so.'

'Do not!'

Hidaka laughed and grabbed Kusuhara into a headlock. 'Deny however you like. If you take to night training and get better, it'd be the solid proof that you do fancy her. But you'll have to be careful. I heard you should never enter one of the training rooms over in that back building at night.'

'Why not?'

Hidaka scrunched up his face to recall what he had heard from Goto earlier in the month. 'People say a ghost lurks there and preys on newbies like you,' he said slowly. 'A huge ghost, like a behemoth. If you fight it we'll probably end up having to pick scraps of you from between its fangs.'

'And you believe that?'

'I don't, but it'd be a shame to deny it only to have you snatched away. You know we've got several training rooms in pretty much every building. If you stay away from that particular building you should be fine.'

Kusuhara wrestled out of Hidaka's grasp, 'I don't believe in ghost stories.'

'Well, who knows? You are the king of laps, and you have power boost at night when the lieutenant isn't around. The odds could well be that you run into this ghost and end up beating it. Then Lieutenant Awashima would be hugely impressed and you'd win her heart. Now that's what I call a grand scheme.'

'I do not fancy Lieutenant Awashima!'

Hidaka laughed, 'I'll see you in the morning. Good luck.'

†