Miho ate her lunch on the park bench in silence, completely alone and lost in her thoughts. Every time someone entered the area, she scanned that one's face for a split second, making sure that it wasn't someone that organization sent with murderous intent. Even if it was for a split second, she knew stranger from enemy right then and there, as she had trained herself to tell who from who in a similar timeframe. And even if they weren't, she would instinctively tell if they were actually strangers, or those assassins who were camouflaged as strangers. Thing is, she wasn't taking any chances.
Not that one, she thought. Finishing her lunch, she returned the trays, and walked out into the sunshine. Almost immediately, she caught sight of someone approaching her.
Looking up, she noticed a trio. Putting her hand next to her Colt, she scanned their faces.
Of the three, one had black hair with a weird hybrid between a monocle and a set of glasses, and the second was rather normal, if not for her ungodly chest size. The third looked like a middle schooler with brown hair tied into pigtails on either end versus her auburn jaw-length.
"We need to talk," the brown middle schooler said.
Miho immediately registered the situation as "possible to escalate into direct confrontation".
"Then, what? We ain't got all day." she said with obvious combat-readiness.
The brown haired midget then proceeded to place her arm on Miho's shoulder. Miho wasn't amused by that, rather, it irritated her.
"Listen here, I don't know exactly what you picked up for your mandatory elective, but pick Sensha-do. It'll be great, I guarantee." she said with an annoying voice.
"I was aware that a Sensha-do team dosen't even exist in Oarai." At this point the little one was acting like a kindergartener, draping her arm across Miho's shoulder and talking in a very annoying tone. Miho wasn't at the least entertained by this. On the other hand, it irritated her.
"We didn't, but we're starting it back up this year," said the black haired buttercup.
Miho shook the midget's arm off her shoulder, and leaned back in her bench with her hand close to her weapon.
"No here, ladies, I transferred here primarily and definitely to avoid Sensha-do."
The pipsqueak then placed her arm back on Miho's shoulder.
"Pick Sensha-do, would you. Trust me, it'll be fun." she said with her annoying tone.
Miho had definitely hit the limit. She stood up from her bench, and stared down at the fools in front of her.
"And I said: no, tin-head."
"What did you just dare call the president?" The black-haired buttercup asked, anger clear in her voice.
"Momo-chan, calm down, I'm sure she didn't mean anything by that," the midget said as she tried her best to hold her friend back from attacking Miho.
"What? And don't call me Momo-chan!" the black hair said, her face red from anger or embarrassment Miho didn't know which.
If one left out the circumstances, the scene would look almost comical.
"Oh, don't need to worry about it. I like her style," the midget said to her companions and patted Miho on the back in an extremely annoying fashion, as if they were merely old friends at the history club debating on what country was better. Miho's irritation finally got the better of her.
"If you idiots would be actually half competent, tin-head, I suggest that you leave. Next period comes in, say, ten minutes, and we're gonna have better things to do then;" she placed herself into a fighting stance, her hand close to her weapon,
"You already know what."
The (damn fucking waay too incompetent) student council then exchanged a look, before the tin-head spoke up.
"Well, I guess you're right," she said.
"But we're not done yet. Maybe we'll meet again, but sooner or later it's gonna happen."
Miho's eyes glared at them both with sheer coldness.
"Yes, and if that happens, then you'll know who to blame for one bloody nose each."
The black haired monocle then spoke up.
"And we'll meet again. Sooner or later."
Miho glared at the black monocle.
"And my response is; No. So suck it up buttercup."
And with that, Miho turned round and headed towards the classroom.
—
As Makoto woke up, the alarm clock on her side was ringing. Turning it off, she stood up, and looked out the window.
Just like it was in Chicago.
After a quick shower, she dressed in the olive green military uniform of Kawasaki, as she stared down at the black necktie.
Reminds me of my time back in Virginia.
That was the CIA headquarters, after all. Heading towards the kitchen, she noticed a set of bacon and eggs, set up neatly on the table, with some buttered toast and milk. A note written on the table in neat handwriting was visible.
Well...
...
Shiro sat in her chair in the classroom, completely lost to her train of thought, alone. Alone.
She was completely alone to herself, which was exactly what she had desired.
Right? Even if I had friends in this place, they would've sooner or later sent assassins after us, she mused.
Guess it's better to be alone.
Chewing the end of her pen, she stared out the window. Normally, the classroom would be full of teachers and students. The blackboard would have something written on it. But now there was none. There was nothing written on the blackboard. There were no schoolmates to distract her. There were no teachers to teach about concepts that she had already knew—but enjoyed. But now, there was nothing. Nothing. Nothing at all. She was alone. Alone. Alone, with nothing but the dark mist as a companion.
She sighed.
While on the outside she rejected relationships and the like, deep down, she wished that she had a companion to be with her. She wanted someone to talk with, to cry on. Someone whom she could confide in on all of her troubles and yet still remain with her in times when she needed them most. But there was none. None understood her. And whoever did, would be killed by assassins sent by that organization, that dark shadow that always hung over her. That darkness of the abyss that shadowed her. She knew, that in the end, the deeper the relationship, the worse it hurt in the end. Always.
She knew. And it always hurt worse then ever.
She sighed.
At least nobody knows about that organization. she thought.
Save for whoever's already dead.
...
"Shiro? Shiro? You listening?"
Shiro's mind left the darkness of Chicago behind as she found herself in the familiar classroom. Beside her, a girl with flowing brown hair with a pink hairband was shaking her back into reality.
She barely heard the teacher's voice, full of concern.
"You ok? You look... sick."
Shiro didn't respond.
"You ok? Maybe you should go to the nurse's office, if you need."
"Maybe. I should." Shiro said walking out to the door.
...
She had barely left the hallway when she was caught up by her two classmates Fusae and Shiho.
"What are you doing?" Shiro sighed. "Get back to class. We ain't got all day."
"We couldn't do that," Shiho said, cheerful as ever.
"Not when it's that obvious something's bothering you," Fusae continued, worry apparent in her voice.
"For a long time."
"Was it someone bullying you? Or whoever trying to?" Shiho asked with obvious worry.
"Nothing much," Shiro replied.
"At least, of your concern. It's from a different country and all."
But Shiho was completely undeterred by that.
"If so, then—"
"None of your business. Why would you go out of your way to do that?"
Fusae spoke up.
"We're friends, re—"
"We're not friends, and Fusae, You're my roommate. Nothing else. It's not like you've got sniped at literally once every week, remember that." Shiro spoke, trying her best to keep her emotions under check.
"B—but we're still—" Shiho didn't get to finish as Shiro slammed her fist into the wall, cracking it inward, silencing them both.
"Don't you speak to me like that," she hissed.
"It's not like we're friends, and before you pry my locker open I say, I've got more incidents in my life then you have fingers on your hands, so suck it up buttercup and just fucking SHUT UP!" Shiro said practically screaming the last part.
"You don't even know how it feels to be on the fucking recieving end of a sniper filled with HATE shooting at you every time you go outside you—"
Shiro didn't finish, as she turned round and headed out towards the door, already near tears as she tried to wipe them away.
...
In the end, Shiro never went back go school. She just ran all the way home. To the apartment. So disturbed was she that she didn't even bother to do her usal round of the apartment, which was her usal habits.
Then she noticed the box she had placed in the hallway.
Opening it, she rummaged through it to reveal a single tattered paperback, covered carefully in plastic. It's title was written clearly; The Fall of Reach.
Setting it down gently, she removed a single envelope, inside which was half of a letter, the other half burned to a crisp. The remaining lines were written in pencil, which read, simply;
Seek the truth
Reveal the truth
Behold the truth
Setting it aside, she removed a single plastic model of a fictional starship, which had distinctive geometric and angular lines. On its upper mandible the letters FFG-142 can be seen.
A tear dripped down to the model, as another came, and another as Shiro's mind brought her to her past, her memories, America, and others, as she eventually completely broke down in tears, everything seemingly like a stab through her very heart, and she felt like she deserved it.
Deserved it...
As the casade of pain and hurt came down hard on her, the darkness took the form of her, as a little child in New York... and then...
Her mind slowly wandered back into the past, out of Japan, and back to where it all began.
The nightmare. The terror.
The history. The helplessness.
She would be standing in the alleyway, unable to move. She would watch helplessly as her father shot down from multiple rifle bullets.
She would try to move, and her limbs would be completely numb. Numb enough that she would collapse, fall to the ground.
Then she would be again the helpless bystander, as the car crashed itself into the pillar, the accident that took her mother's life. She would try to move, but again, her limbs would be numb as ever.
Then she would see her younger sister die to a sniper bullet to the heart.
Again she would be helpless.
Her youngest of the three sisters would be in the car, and then the car would explode from a bomb set underneath it, again helpless from the numbness.
Then she would see Akatsuki, her only friend she knew after coming to Japan get her life taken from her from one of the many assassins sent to kill her—and whoever knew about the existence of the society.
The story would then continue.
Her father would be murdered
Her mother would die in a car accident
Her sister would be murdered
Her youngest sister would assasiniated
Akatsuki would then leave her
Father...
Mother...
Marie...
Sakura...
Akatsuki...
And of all of them, she knew that she was to blame. It was all her fault.
And she knew.
And it hurt.
Worse then ever.
Ever.
A/N:
I would like to wrap up this chapter in saying that I included a few references to Halo and the number 7 in chapter 1 onwards. Anyone who has seen them, then well... let's just say that post a review saying what references and where. Yeah. Also, can anyone interpret Shiro's and Miho's nightmare? If yes, then tell me. Also, has anyone deduced the true nature of their pursuers?
PS: If you review, write it properly. I'm sick of hearing you all ask "a cult?" like Tuesday. The reasons why Shiro and Miho always go armed will be explained later.