Far East Branch Headquarters - Veteran's Floor

Soma burst through the stairwell doors with so much force that the door slammed into the wall behind it. His eyes burned with fury as he stalked down the hallway toward Hamasaki's room. He had more than a few bones to pick with him, and this time he had no intention of tempering his rage. He more than enough questions to fill a few lists, but the chief among them regarded the New Type.

…Did he know?

The more he contemplated, the angrier he became. His mind drifted to the many times that she would appear on the terminal screen, eyes bloodshot and cheeks stained with tears. Her slowly diminishing light with every meeting. Her hatred of research and all who engaged in it. Small details now shown in a brilliant new light. He had been blind to the extent of her suffering as he often used her as a sounding board to vent his own… But while he was being studied, she was being tortured. While he was being bullied and strained through his endless days of training, she was being mutilated, violated, and abused… and he had done nothing.

Concerned as he was for her, Soma was powerless. Over 6,000 miles across the ocean, he could have done nothing to ease her pain, regardless of whether or not he had known the extent of her mistreatment. But Hamasaki was with her. As childhood companions, he would have been with her. He had to have been. Surely, there was no way that he had spent over a decade by her side, utterly blind to her abuse. Why hadn't he done something? Why had he stood idly by, allowing her to drown in tribulation? His hand clenched as he contemplated punching a wall but decided against it. He would save it for his Squad Leader.

Upon reaching his destination, he opened his sliding door and let himself in, entirely prepared to beat him within an inch of his life… but he wasn't there. Neither of them were. The room was empty save for some female clothes scattered about the room. Where on earth had he gone this time of night? He lost a bit of steam at having lost his target, and instead opted to wander around the room. Hamasaki lived a relatively minimalistic lifestyle with not much more than the essentials in his living space. Most of the items strewn about the area didn't to be his, prompting Soma to wonder if the New Type ever stayed in her own room.

The furniture was casual and simplistic in design. He wasn't one for needless extravagance, which Soma approved of. The bed was a disheveled mess and a simple, yet functional lamp lay on the bedside table. Above both was a simple wall clock that ticked quietly in the silent room. And on the dresser lay a small black book that looked oddly out of place. Hamasaki didn't seem like the type to keep a diary and Reaper kept him so busy, he doubted he found much time to read.

…So what was inside?

Carefully, Soma made his way around the couch, stepping over the clothes on the floor, and stopped before the dresser. It was far beyond appropriate to invade his privacy like this, but he was in far too sour a mood to care. Hooking a finger under the cover, he flipped open the book.

Inside were no words at all, only images. The first was a photograph of a very young version of his friend and Ichiro. They were smiling joyfully in what looked like a bedroom. His arm wrapped around her shoulders and she leaned against him, clutching a stuffed rabbit to her chest. Flipping the page, he found another photograph of the two slightly older with the two lying on the floor. They were clearly working on something, possibly a puzzle, and her eyes fixated determinedly on the pieces.

Quickly recognizing the book as a photo album, he flipped through the pictures, watching as the pair aged. As the book progressed, her expressions became less and less vibrant and the images became less and less frequent until eventually… they stopped entirely. As he gazed at the final photograph, he observed the details of the image. Hamasaki was holding the camera in front of the two of them, linked at the shoulder as they often were. She was trying, and failing miserably, to flash a smile and he was smirking at her terrible attempt. It was the last image taken of them before her disappearance.

As Soma flipped through the book again, he started to notice a recurring pattern. As the two of them changed and matured, there was one element that always remained the same: Ichiro. She often held much of his attention. Sometimes from the corner of his eye, and other times, simply watching. As children, he was always nearby, observing as she got into whatever mischief. Even as they worked on the puzzle, his eye was glancing slightly in her direction.

As he gazed at the final photograph again, he began to realize. There was no way he could have possibly known. Even in their youth, his affection for her had been the same. Their bond ran far deeper than he had ever imagined. He would never have left her to her own devices had he known she was enduring such treatment. He cared far too for her much. So much so that he knew every habit. Her every tendency. Her likes and dislikes. Her strengths and her weaknesses.

Could that be why he was chosen as her guardian…?

Closing the book, Soma's eyes drifted to a dim light in the corner of the room. The NORN terminal was still running. That struck him as odd. Punctual and precise as he was, it wasn't likely that he would simply forget and leave his machine running. In fact, much of the room appeared in some form of disarray. Wherever he had gone, he must have been in a hurry. What could be so important to have him in such a rush? Had he received an order from the higher-ups? It wasn't uncommon for the Director to summon their Squad Leader for 'special assignments.' But why so late into the night?

Soma stared at the machine as he pondered the possibilities. And after only a few moments, he found his curiosity getting the better of him as he slowly made his way toward the light. He stood before the computer, typing a short keystroke. And on the screen he saw… nothing. It was simply an inbox of messages, no different than his own. Hamasaki had apparently been checking his email before he left, which wasn't exactly an unusual practice.

But what caught his attention were the words written within the open message.

The branch would remind you that your objective as her handler has not changed.

We understand your apprehension in this matter and will leave you with a parting gift.

We urge you to reference it as necessary to find your resolve.

The ominous message left him uneasy as he scanned the sender information. It had been sent from the North American branch. His brows furrowed as his eyes lowered to the attachment at the bottom, the audio player still open. Hitting Replay, Soma listened carefully to the audio file. Having watched the video footage mere hours ago, he immediately recognized the file as the transmission from the plane… but it was from the viewpoint of Headquarters rather than the passengers themselves. He had watched Reaper's massacre through the onboard camera as well as the various events leading up to it. To him, her reaction had been justified.

From this perspective however, it almost sounded incriminating.

Closing the audio player, he read over the email again. His mind picked apart every detail, trying to make sense of the cryptic message. As he ran through the words over and over again, he began to examine key words and phrases.

We understand your apprehension.

Your objective as her handler has not changed.

Find your resolve.

The words rattled in his mind as realization dawned on him.

Their countless hours of training and working with one another. The unwavering trust that they held for one another. The bonds that they shared. His knowledge of nearly every facet of her existence. They were her comfort and her security.

But repurposed, they could also be used as a weapon.

Ichiro Hamasaki. Prepare yourself. You must fight as though your life depends on it… because it will.

Hamasaki hadn't only been trained to protect and manage Reaper… he had been trained to eliminate her, should something go wrong. And something had gone very, very wrong a short while ago when she had lost control and attempted to - and likely would have succeeded without intervention - slaughter a fellow member of the Den.

From this new perspective, his behavior over the last few days suddenly seemed obvious. The way that he had been avoiding her, steadily placing distance between them. The way that he had been driving all of them to utter exhaustion, while pushing her the hardest. His mind slowly drifted to their return earlier in the evening when she had nearly collapsed into the lift. And now both of them were nowhere to be found.

Turning, Soma tore from the room without a backward glance.

. . .

Infernal Subway

Reaper followed closely behind her companion, the sweltering heat threatening to melt her into a puddle. Ichiro had summoned her for a mission late into the night, and she had happily complied, looking forward to finally spending some time with him. Lately, she noticed that he had been distancing himself from her. He had been working her to the bone and running her all across the Far East… but she didn't mind the endless hunting. That was her purpose. It was what she had been made and trained to do. It was the effectively the only thing she knew.

What upset her was the fact that Ichiro had been steadily pulling away from her over the past week. He rejected her touch and avoided her company. She had assumed that he was simply stressed, having been thrust so unexpectedly into his new position. She assumed that the pressure was getting to him.

But over time, she had grown increasingly concerned that she had done something to upset him in some way. Was he angry about the training room incident? She hadn't meant to drive him crazy, only to help him.

His footsteps stopped, as he reached an open area of the subway. They were surrounded nearly on all sides by boiling magma. She wondered what fascinating creature they would be hunting on this night. It's affiliation with fire made her nervous, but she had little reason to be afraid. She knew that her companion would protect her, as he always had. He would be by her side, as he always had.

Tilting her head to the side, she watched him carefully. She observed his trembling shoulders and ragged breaths. She observed his tense, rigid stance, his hands clenched tightly around his weapon. She could not see his face, but she could feel his pain. She knew that he was crying.

"Yurushite… kudasai…"

Reaper furrowed her brow in confusion. He had been unkind to her lately, certainly, but she had long since forgiven him. He had done nothing to warrant an apology of such intensity… but as her eye noticed the change in his grip, she understood. She knew him better than anyone in this world and knew what this signal meant. Leaping backward, she narrowly avoided his massive blade and it crashed into the ground in front of her.

He leapt forward swinging his blade again. She took to the air, soaring over the buster as it passed beneath her. He turned toward her and paused, lifting his God Arc once more. In the moment their eyes met, she could see the anguish behind his determined gaze. She knew that look, for she had seen it many a time throughout their career. He was on a mission.

They had gone on countless together, his shield guarding her from any and all who would harm her. But protecting her was no longer his objective. This time, she would need to protect herself. She was no longer his charge…

She was his target.

She wanted to know why he would betray her. What she done wrong? Had she angered him that much…? No. Had someone put him up to it? She could see his hopelessness. She could feel his pain. She could tell that this decision wasn't his own.

Slowly, she lifted her scythe and dropped into an offensive stance. If she wanted answers, she would need to defeat him in combat first.

The two stood eerily still, facing one another, surrounded by a ring a fire. The scene was reminiscent of a time long past. He had faced her like this many times before, in the training room across the sea. He had trembled before her then, having no wish to bring harm to her. He would have never dreamed of hurting one so dear to him… and that fact hadn't changed. He had no more desire to fight her now than he had back then.

She had left him no choice. Were it the two of them, he would stay by her side, even if she lost control. He had little fear of death, not even by her hand. But they were no longer alone. It was no longer his life that was forfeit. It was Sakuya's, and Kota's, and Soma's, and Shun's, and everyone else who resided in the Den.

You must as though your life depends on it… because it will

At the shift of wrist, Reaper spun to the side, avoiding his incoming blow. She turned, raising her scythe, and blocking the second strike. She knew him too well. She knew what movements he would make…

… but he knew her as well. Charging forward he struck again, and again. He pushed her back with consecutive strikes, never slowing his blade even as she twisted and turned and deflected him. He knew her weaknesses and her strengths. Born as Deadeye, Reaper was a sniper at heart. As such, she was strongest at a distance. He had never met an adversary in his life that could avoid her bullets.

But at close range, the tables turned. Reaper's defenses were poor and she relied almost entirely on her speed to evade danger or maintain distance. This meant an aggressive strategy would prove the most effective. By pressing forward, he was locking her in close combat, leaving her little chance to evade and almost no opportunity for a counterstrike.

Her brows furrowed as she backed away under the pressure of his relentless blows. She was getting dangerously close to the edge of their peninsula. Watching his movements, she noticed his hand shift upward. Jumping into the air, she avoided the incoming side swipe and twisted her body to land behind him. But Hamasaki predicted her movements. He followed his momentum and spun full circle, deploying his shield just in time to block her outstretched hand. His augmented shield absorbed the electricity that she would undoubtedly have used to stun him.

Frustrated, Reaper leapt away again from the incoming strikes. On the battlefield she was nearly unmatched in both speed and agility… but she was tired. She had been battered and exhausted by the seemingly endless succession of missions over the past seven days. And she was surrounded by fire, the heat slowly sapping her strength. The injection of bias factor made God Eaters naturally resilient to higher temperatures. But for Reaper, it was the opposite.

She nearly lost her footing as she blocked another blow. Holding her scythe like a staff, she caught his blade with her handle, locking them in a stalemate. She winced as the force of his heavy buster slowly forced her to the ground. When had he gotten so strong…?

If she was to have any chance against, she would have to force the battle into her terms.

Sliding to the side, she released his blade and dropped to the ground, sweeping her legs to trip him. Predicting her movement, he hopped over her sweep and raised his shield to block another incoming stun… but he had predicted incorrectly. She faked him out, tricking him to deploying his shield, which she used as a springboard to launch herself off of to distance herself from him. As she soared through the air, she watched his shield come down. She didn't have time to shift her weapon. He would already be upon her. If he trapped her in close range in sniper form, she would be finished. So instead, she activated her scythe and swung.

Ichiro stopped his charge, narrowly avoiding the tip of her scythe. So this was her new strategy. He allowed her no opportunity to manipulate the battle into a ranged fight. So instead, she used her extended melee weapon to fight at longer range. With her scythe's range function active, her reach was nearly doubled.

Leaping into the air, he flipped over the incoming scythe again. With her advantageous position, Reaper was now on the offensive. Left to avoid her dangerous blade, he could no longer get close to her… but her swings were beginning to slow. She was running out of steam. Following her movements, he shifted his own.

Watching him, she noticed the way his foot pivoted ever so slightly. Twisting her blade in a diagonal strike, she deflected him to stop his advance. But just she had done to him, he had fooled her. With her strike misplaced, he rushed underneath of the elongated handle, closing the distance. She was defenseless. Her eyes narrowed as he approached, lifting his God Arc high above his head. The battle was over. Ichiro had won. Her mistake had allowed him an opening, needing only a single strike to bring her down.

…But he didn't take it.

He paused for just the slightest moment, his willpower wavering as he gazed at her defenseless form.

Do not forget

Forcing the thoughts from his mind, he brought down his blade.

His hesitation cost him. By the time he started his swing, Reaper began stepping back. The blade slashed her, wounding her but not inflicting a killing blow… and behind him was an unseen threat.

His indecision had cost precious time. Reaper lost the last of her strength. No longer capable of maintaining her scythe, the function deactivated. As he saw the weapon glowing red, he leapt to the side to avoid the incoming blade as the scythe snapped back to its original length. He avoided being split in two, but the edge of the blade tore through his side.

As Ichiro fell to his knees, gripping his open wound, Reaper fell to the ground, a large open gash bleeding from her chest. She panted from the exhausted, trying to blink the stars from her eyes. Slowly, she tried to sit up, grunting as she fell back to the ground. Twisting her head to look at her opponent, she realized that she had made a grave mistake. The flames licked the augmented blade as his God Arc lay momentarily forgotten on the ground. She could not heal.

Wobbling to his feet, he gripped the handle of his weapon and started forward. He walked sluggishly towards her, his blade dragging along the ground. He was in a great deal of pain, but he couldn't stop. He had to finish this. Reaching her, he slowly lifted his sword, wincing as the strain agitated his wound… but before he could strike she did the last thing he expected.

She smiled.

The sweet, gentle smile that he hadn't seen for many years. The kind, appreciative expression that she hadn't wore since they were only children. In that smile, he could see her. Not Reaper, nor Deadeye, but his old friend. Even as he stood above her, prepared to end her life, she had forgiven him… or was it something else?

She almost looked… grateful.

Ichiro didn't know. But in the face of her innocent smile, he found himself utterly powerless. He couldn't do it. He couldn't bring himself to end her life. Not like this. Reaching a bloody hand into his pocket, he pulled out her recorder.

It was a sorely inadequate penance for his sin, but the least he could do was offer her mercy. He would play her mother's voice for her one last time… and his give his final command for her to sleep. In her slumber, she would go peacefully. In the molten magma, her passing would be instantaneous. She would feel no suffering nor any pain. Who knew? Perhaps he would follow her…

With trembling hands, he slowly pressed his fingers on the Play button.