Author's Note: some chill "school/studying" music from The Girl Who Leapt Through Time: "Aria" watch?v=Cm69NsLedaU&list=PL6C7AEA31B943B736&index=5

Chapter 25

Answers and Questions

"So you weren't really looking around—you just wanted to enjoy a burger in private?" jeered Riki.

"Yeah," said Mireille absent-mindedly, as they walked to the library.

"Hey, no shame," said Riki, shrugging.

"I wasn't ashamed."

"Why we go to library now?" asked Audriane. "Why not enjoy the rest of our day?"

"Yeah, we have all these shopping bags," huffed Riki, readjusting the strap of three plastic bags over her shoulder, two more in her other hand.

"That is not my fault," said Mireille. "Besides, I thought, why not get the research part over and done with? There's a lot to cover this week. We'll dig into this Sir Asher and what his faction's all about; then, this mysterious faction the Third is part of. And of course the Third Faction that is after us. There's so much we have yet to learn about the Soldats. As always."

Audriane thought about that last statement. How long have Mireille and Kirika been involved with the very people they obviously despise? And in what way?

"But what basis do we have?" mused Kirika. "We only met Asher once. We don't know anything about him or Shirihime. They have been careful as to not reveal anything about themselves to us."

"Well, then, we start from scratch," said Mireille, sighing.

"So far, so good," said Riki sarcastically.

"Kirika, wasn't there was a reason why you researched the Basques?" blurted Audriane. "Someone you knew?"

It was there in the middle of their walking that Kirika stopped in her tracks. They looked at her quizzically, all except Mireille, who didn't even turn around.

"I'm sorry, I hit a nerve?" said Audriane.

"It's fine," said Kirika, who continued to walk. "You're right. That's a good start. Mireille and I will start where I left off in my research. We'll look up about the Basques, their religion, origins, whatever it takes. Considering that Asher placed us in the Etxarren, a central Basque icon, I have come to surmise that he may be Basque. I dunno why, it's just a hunch. As for you two, I think it's about time you learned the ways of trade. You gotta know how to look up blue prints, background info on your target, where to find more ammunition, where to find a secluded place for shooting practice . . ."

"That's right," added Mireille. "Just because you've improved, doesn't mean you slack. Keep up your training. If you don't, it disappears faster than you think."

Just listening to their mentors talk about being assassins sounded so ridiculous to Riki and Audriane; a weird casual conversation during a nice stroll through Laguardia. But at the same time, they have grown used to it. They just didn't think they'd already be talking about business on their first day of relaxation.

"So you expect us to just . . . wing it? Look for shit?" said Riki.

"We'll guide you, but we expect you to be able to do this on your own. After all," said Mireille, "we can't be there for you forever."

It was quiet, save for the mutter from the bars they passed.

"Right," said Audriane. "We'll look up blue prints and background information on our targets—wait, who?" She stared at her mentors. "Shirihime give you the 'list' already? When?"

"When I was eating lunch with her," said Mireille.

"You ate a burger with THAT WOMAN?" yelled Riki.

"Keep your voice down, we're not in the mountains anymore," growled Mireille. "Yes, I did. She gave me our targets, and she expects us to finish it within five days. But it won't be the last time we see her, of course. I'm sure she'll drop in and out, 'grading' us, per usual."

"Well, are you gonna show it to us?" asked Riki.

Kirika looked at Mireille nervously, then back at the kids. "Um, not yet." Mireille was just as startled by her answer.

"Why not?" chorused the girls.

Kirika's reply was earnest. "Why would you want to see it so soon? I thought you wanted to relax a bit."

The suspense—the determination—on the teenagers' faces was gone, fading like light from a room. Kirika was right. They almost jumped into their first assassination as though it were a fun game. That darkness they've stowed away in the dusty corners of their hearts . . . it slowly escaped its chest, slowly spreading. They fought to keep it locked.

Mireille broke the mood. "Look, just remember that we're going to the library not just for a hit list. We're here because Shirihime thinks we're doing her bidding—when really, we're gonna use the little time we have here to look up as much as we can. That includes about her and Asher. Right now, you two focus on the blue prints, the closest ride out of here, and what happened to the Third Sapling the day of the massacre."

The girls hadn't heard that word in a long time. It was a like a stake, digging slowly into their hearts, their guts. Noir knew this, and felt guilty.

"What for?" murmured Riki.

"The Third said she'd been reported 'missing'," said Mireille. "I'm sure the police have been looking for her, and for you. There must be something on the school's security footage that they missed. The trail may be cold, or it may not. We need to trace her disappearance to whoever took her. We need to know who exactly these people are, what their goal is."

"That a lot to think about. A lot of 'what if'," said Audriane.

"It is. So let's simplify things by finding the correct answers. Aren't you just as curious about how the Third Sapling came to be? Aren't you sick of not knowing anything about her?"

"A little . . ." said Riki, thinking about the last time they saw Sakuya.

"Meanwhile, finding out why she 'wasn't supposed to be the Third'," said Kirika.

"So," repeated Mireille, "Look up blue prints of the town, just in case we need to make a run for it, and—."

"We heard that there are underground wine cellars," said Riki.

"Good. Look that up as well. Also, find a train or plane out of here when shit hits the fan. And last, research the Third—."

"Sakuya," growled Riki.

Mireille paused, and sighed. "Sakuya."

"Thank you."

…..

With computers scanty, they separated. Mireille and Kirika hit the bookshelves, ordering the girls to do the online researching once no one was sitting at the computers.

"Just like a research paper for school," said Audriane, stretching and intertwining her hands, cracking them.

"What's this—Audriane boasting?" said Riki, as they sat down at their own separate computers inside cubicles.

"You have to think about the right keywords to use in search engine," said Audriane, typing away as if they had never left school.

"'Slow down, we a team!'" burst Riki, shaking Audriane's chair.

This startled her partner, whose eyes bulged at Riki while looking around frantically to see if anyone was glaring their way.

"What, you don't remember that?" laughed Riki.

Audriane was more focused on Riki's outburst. However, it clicked. She shook her head, trying not to smile. "Of course I do." She swatted her friend away.

Riki looked back at her own screen, clicking and typing. "So which one will you do?"

"What, you not gonna text?" joked Audriane.

Riki snorted, almost in disbelief at how, back then, such scholarly patronizing would have driven her to bitch-slap Audriane across the face. Sort of speak.

"Well, 'We do together', right?" quoted Riki, in such a quiet voice, she was almost embarrassed.

Audriane leaned back in her chair so she could see Riki past the cubicle wall. When Riki saw her looking, she exaggerated a dog-like snarl, baring her teeth in a way that threw off Audriane and yet made her explode with laughter into her hands.

"Anyway, where to begin?" sighed Audriane, tapping her fingers on the table. Finally, she typed and clicked so fast that Riki couldn't concentrate for the next half an hour, wishing she could type that fast, half wishing she could just push Audriane off her chair.

Finally, Riki declared, "Oh my god."

"What!"

"The closest airport is in Bilbao."

"You just found that? What were you doing this whole time?"

"Looking up Sakuya's case."

"Oh! Anything?"

"No, not really." That had been a lie; Riki had been avoiding any words or image related to that tragedy.

"Anyway, the airport is only ninety minutes away!" said Riki distractedly. "That's an hour and half. That's . . . that's amazing. We could get outta here!"

"Not without Mireille and Kirika," reminded Audriane. "Don't tell me you haven't grown attached to them."

"Don't get all Stockholm Syndrome on me. Audriane, this is our chance!"

"Remember back at the monastery?" said Audriane calmly, not wanting to make a scene—even worse, draw Noir's attention. "Mireille practically begged us to help her and Kirika. I know you won't leave them, because you like them, you just won't admit it. They're victims, too, like Sakuya, as you claim."

Riki looked at Audriane, waiting to hear those words that finally admitted Sakuya's innocence.

However, all Audriane said was, "I refuse to leave knowing they will be killed on the spot."

Riki sighed. "It's not that I don't care about them," she reasoned. "It's just . . . hard to trust them. Meaning . . . I don't know anything about them."

"What do you want to know about them?"

Riki leaned back in her chair, catching Audriane's attention. "Mireille's pockewatch."

"Ok . . .?" said Audriane, obviously multi-tasking.

"That picture on it. I've seen it before."

"Really? Where?" Tappa! Tappa! Tappa!

Riki lowered her voice. For some reason, she didn't want anyone to hear, especially their mentors, even though they were probably far across the library.

"In that stone hut behind Etxarren," said Riki. "It's engraved into this stone relief on the wall."

Audriane stopped typing. "Really? Wow. That really strange—that definitely something! Wait, how you . . . when you go into that stone hut?"

"Sakuya showed me."

Audriane's hands flew in the air. "Of course!" she sang, rolling her eyes.

Riki grinned.

"Do Mireille and Kirika know about it?" asked Audriane.

"I don't think so. We were all already leaving Etxarren. I think they decided not to worry about it since we're here in Laguardia now." Riki stared blankly at the screen. "She and Kirika are hiding something. I mean, where did Mireille get all that money? I thought we were past secrets . . ."

Audriane saw how disheartened Riki became. "Maybe they don't want to talk about it. Maybe they plan on telling us at some point."

"I need to know. There's something about that pocketwatch," said Riki, nodding to herself.

"What if it personal? That be rude?"

Riki snorted. "I think, of all the things I've said to Mireille, it's the least rude."

Audriane studied Riki, as if trying to see what Riki saw. "Her father gave it to her. Of course it rude."

Riki thought about that too. "Asher puts us in Etxarren, apparently, a big deal in the Basque culture—if he is Basque. And that stone hut has the same picture as the pocketwatch . . ."

"And Kirika mentioned how 'Chloe' looked like the Basque people," said Audriane, twisting a strand of her hair into a rope.

Riki stood up, absorbing Audriane's words. "Wait . . . Audriane! Can you look up the blue prints instead, while I look up—."

"Did you find anything?"

Kirika had appeared.

Instead of answering, Riki's jaw hung open. Thankfully, Audriane, sitting casually in her seat, could control her movements versus Riki's obvious body language.

"Riki found the airport," said Audriane. "It only an hour and a half away."

"That's good," said Kirika. "Anything else?"

"Still figuring out the Sakuya case," said Riki. "What about you?"

"Like Riki had suggested, Mireille decided to contact old friends," said Kirika; she paused dramatically. "That kind of old friends."

Audriane asked, "You mean . . . underworld—?"

"That kind."

"I dunno why, but hearing that you two had shady friends is kind of . . . badass," said Riki, smirking. "Anyway, find anything in the books?"

"Several books, actually," said Kirika, excited. "About their religion, sports, people, everything." She turned. "I'll leave you alone. Write down the airport address. And find those blue prints, they're really important."

She left.

Audriane turned to Riki. "What were you going to say?"

"I think . . ." Riki trailed off, typing rapidly. She paused. "Dammit."

"What?"

"I tried typing in 'Kirika Yumura'. Too many results under that same name, all seemingly irrelevant."

"What made you think you find them that easily? They assassins—." Audriane zipped her lips, then whispered, "They assassins."

"You're observant, you have good memory. Do you remember where Mireille said she came from?"

Audriane only thought for a second. "Um . . . Corsica."

"Shit, you remembered that fast?"

"Wait, why?"

"Where's Corsica?"

"It's a mountainous land off the western coast of Italy, that forms administrative region with France."

"Damn, Audripedia." Audriane listened to Riki type fast, then click, then pause. "Audriane."

"Hm?"

"Come here."

Audriane got up and looked over Riki's shoulders. The first word she glimpsed on the white screen was "murdered".

She squinted at the search box to see what keywords Riki used, and read, "Mireille . . . Bouquet?" She gasped, skimming through a gold mine of overwhelming words and hints and revelations.

Corsica news. Wealthy family murdered. Underworld crossfire. Reasons unknown. Two survivors. Seven-year-old syndicate daughter. Claude Feyder. Body of George of the Bouquet family . . .

When they finished reading, Audriane sat back down in her chair, paralyzed; Riki, her mind speeding through the immense amount of words she read about Mireille's past. It felt as though a gloomy wall smacked right into them. Their minds went inconceivably blank for a moment. All they thought about was Mireille taking back the pocketwatch from them back at Etxarren.

"Her father gave her that pocketwatch," murmured Riki, filled with a pinch of sorrow.

Audriane looked at her, almost in fear. "You not think . . . he associated with the Soldats? I mean, why else Mireille despise them so?"

"Yeah . . . yeah, I think he was. He was a Soldat. So was she."

"Don't ever let her hear you say that."

They turned around, so caught up in themselves that they must have not heard Kirika. She stood there, looking at the photos of the crime scene on the computer.

The three of them stood there. The room felt like a bomb, ready to explode.

"We're sorry," said Riki.

Kirika said nothing, her face having never been this placid. Never looked them in the eye once.

"Kirika?" asked Audriane.

"Please don't tell Mireille," whispered Riki, ready for ramifications.

Nothing.

"Who . . . was it?" began Riki, only to be slapped in the arm by Audriane.

Minutes later, Kirika looked at them sternly. "The past is the past," she said. "We look to the future."

After she left, they researched in penitent silence.

…

Books were everywhere. They stood up on their binds, piles on top of each other, or separated into their own piles from the rest of the jumble. Kirika was focused on the Basques in general, having been ordered by Mireille to "just look around until it seems relevant".

Meanwhile, Mireille had been at the computer station ever since a library guest abandoned it, using that as a chance to contact her last resorts: Paulette, her hairstylist back in Paris, and Remy Brefford, the Soldat that convinced her to take on Altena.

When she came back to join Kirika among the books, the Japanese told her, "Did you know that it's most likely, although they don't admit to it, that the Basques invented the beret? Txapela?"

"I didn't see Asher wear one, though," said Mireille, sighing as she massaged her own temples.

"How about you?" asked Kirika, putting a book down.

Mireille folded her arms and crossed her legs. She let out a long sigh. "Paulette told me that someone raided our apartment in Paris, some time after we already landed in the Cantabrians. She's asked where I've been—of course, I didn't tell her. Something told me she was being watched. Hell, maybe she was trying to turn us over, maybe to the Third Faction . . ."

"But, as for Brefford," she said rather sing-songy, "he confirmed that Sir Asher had been placed in charge of certain provinces in Spain for more than a decade. That he is indeed from the Basque Country, which helps narrow down everything significantly. However, Brefford couldn't tell where Asher's place was in the Soldats organization. Said that Asher was 'one of the good ones' . . . 'a man of hitza hitz'—I don't know. But Brefford got weird right there. I dunno what to think of it." Mireille grimaced at that, but carried on. "I'll look into that later. Good news is that he emailed me one of the few photos of Asher—so far, seems like Brefford's on our side."

Mireille laid a photo next to Kirika, of Asher in a simple shirt and trousers, face shaved and younger, wearing a beret, holding a cane.

Mireille tapped the photo. "And guess who the little pint is next to him?"

It was a young girl with short dark hair and a very familiar face.

"Shirihime," said Kirika.

"Way to kill two birds with one stone," said Mireille.

Kirika looked at the other faces in the photo. Men in berets, with simple black vests and trousers, and black-cloth hemp-soled shoes laced up around the ankles—the same as Sakuya's stockings. They held walking sticks in front of them, or slung over their shoulders fashionably, bundled in cloth. The men smiled, almost laughing, or hands clamped on each other's back and shoulders.

"And what drives a person to fly all across the world?" said Mireille.

"Family," said Kirika.

"Looks like Asher did just that to adopt Shirihime. Didn't think that strange woman was his daughter. Seems peculiar, if you ask me." Mireille shook her head, as if disappointed. "The way the Soldats take advantage of the lonely child."

"'To ward the darkness from the nursing babe'," said Kirika. She looked up at Mireille. "We should check out the orphanage Shirihime was from."

"What's the point in that? We know who she is now."

"I'd personally like to know what her real name was."

It took a few seconds for Mireille to remember that Kirika had abandonment anxiety and identity crises—so whenever she found someone with a similarly mysterious childhood, she'd find a way to relate to them. First Chloe, now this.

Mireille nodded in understanding, despite her hate for Shirihime.

"Wait," said Kirika, peering closer to the photo. "Makilas."

"Huh?"

"Walking sticks." Kirika pushed her finger across a paragraph in the book in front of her. "The men in this photo each have one, descended from the Basque shepherd's staff. However, Asher's is more like a cane. This kind represents 'authority, justice, and respect'. His has the traditional coin engraved inside, inscribed with hitza hitz—'one's word is one's word'. Isn't that what Brefford said to you just now?"

"Yeah. What's the big deal, though? I haven't seen Asher with one, save for the one in this photo."

"Exactly. What has he done with it? Makilas are ceremonial or bequeathed upon individuals as honorable gifts." Kirika squinted the photo. "So, did he pass it on to anyone?" She perked up. "Did he choose Riki and Audriane to pass on his leadership to them?"

"Kirika . . . that sounds ridiculous."

"Why not? The Soldats have always been about power. Asher seems different. Strange, but different. His culture means the world to him. I feel like his makila is important."

"So he put us all through hell . . . for a stick?" said Mireille.

"Not exactly. I dunno. It sounds ludicrous, even I don't know where I'm going with this." Kirika reconsidered her explanation, examining the photo, showing Mireille the variety of walking sticks in her findings. "Each makila is different. And one of high rank, such as his, has to have meaning. It's special. If we can trace it to its origin, or its current location, maybe we can find Asher."

Mireille learned that hunches were to never be ignored, especially in their experiences. As absurd and random as it sounded, she gathered all her willpower to trust in Kirika's theory, wherever it may lead them.

"So you think finding where that stick landed will lead us to his connections, his people, his family?" Mireille suddenly smiled. "Find his family, find him. And end him."

Kirika's eyes widened. "Wait, I never said that!"

"What? He's the one who started this, remember?" argued Mireille. "Kirika. He's a Soldat."

"Remy Brefford, too. And your uncle. And . . . your parents."

Mireille grew silent; it was cold, but it wasn't hateful toward Kirika.

"I'm just saying," said Kirika. "Maybe not all of them are bad; they originally weren't. But I can't say for sure until we know more about Asher. So for now, let's not make killing him our number one priority. We have that Third Faction to worry about. And also . . ." She looked at little Shirihime in the photo. "The person who'd do anything for family. We need to figure out where she plays in all of this."

"Well," said Mireille, "she told me she planned on mentoring Riki and Audriane on their first commission. I'm sure they'll let us know how that goes."