Gamer4 in. I am currently in talks with an artist to create a cover for this story- updates as developments continue. Until then, let's press onward.
Disclaimer: Valentine is done- here, but now they're gone.
Chapter V
Unforeseen Consequences
Mahiru Koizumi could feel the hair on the back of her neck standing on end as she walked through the abandoned parking garage. All her senses were on high alert, her eyes raking around the shadows in search of her contact. Loathe as she was to resort to this, Shido's machinations had left her with little choice.
"Nyee-hee-hee! It's about time we met up again, Mahiru-nee! It's been, what, eight months?"
Mahiru closed her eyes and took a deep breath as she turned to find her contact stepping out from behind a pillar. He was on the shorter side, shorter than Mahiru herself. His hair was dark, tipped with purple- he wore a white military-style outfit and a scarf patterned with black and white checks. At the moment, he looked absolutely at ease, leaning back into his own hands without a care in his purple eyes.
"Hello, Kokichi," Mahiru greeted cautiously.
Kokichi Ouma was Mahiru's secret informant- after a fashion. He lived in Shibuya's underground, where he led a group known as DICE. If one were to ask Kokichi what DICE did, exactly, the answer would likely vary depending on his mood at the time. Sometimes, they were an evil organization dedicated to the destruction of mankind- others, they were a harmless group of pranksters.
Kokichi's status allowed him to hear a great many things that Mahiru never would have, but his information came at the heavy cost of him being a compulsive liar. Mahiru never put anything he told her directly into print without doing some legwork of her own to verify it, rendering him more of a starting place than a true source. That said, more than once, there had been some significant truths wrapped up in the lies.
Kokichi maintained his grin as he stepped forward. "So, how have things been with you? Everything eventual, I hope?"
Eventual. He always used that word- eventual. The way he used that word was unlike anyone Mahiru had ever met. It was his catch-all term for anything positive- things were never 'cool' or 'sweet' or any other slang, nor was anything 'going alright' or 'according to plan.' No, everything was always 'eventual.'
"You already have an idea why I'm here, don't you?" Mahiru asked.
"Something to do with Trips, I'm guessing," Kokichi rolled his eyes. "That's all anyone's talking about right now. I tell ya, so uneventual."
"This is serious, Kokichi," Mahiru scolded, for all the good it would do.
"Well, of course I'm taking this seriously!" Kokichi proclaimed, taking an exaggerated step back and raising his hands to his chest in mock offense. "When have I ever treated our work together with anything other than the utmost seriousness?"
Mahiru glowered at him.
"Okay, fine." He gave in, raising his hands in surrender. "Geez, tough crowd."
"People are dying, Ouma!" Mahiru emphasized. "If you'd seen the things I've seen, even you wouldn't be laughing about it!"
"So, I'm to presume that there's a little more to this than the news is letting on?" Kokichi gasped- exaggeratedly, once more. "Oh, my, I had no idea the news was capable of misleading the public!"
Mahiru narrowed her eyes- such digs were hardly uncommon coming from the Checkered Gremlin, as she often thought of him. "I can still turn around, you know-"
"Sorry, sorry!" Kokichi raised his hands again, looking anything but. "Okay, what is it you want from little old me, then? I don't have any special information about Trips, if that's what you're after- all I know is what I've heard on the news, which, as we established-"
"Isn't telling the whole story," Mahiru cut him off. She took a deep breath as she reached into her bag. This was the moment of truth- the one thing she'd come down here to do, and the one thing she truly, truly did not want to. "I'm not here to get information from you- I'm here to give it to you." At last, she produced a hard drive, holding it where the Checkered Gremlin could see it. "I told you, I've seen things- horrible things... things the news is refusing to report on. But it needs to get out there- I can't do it, but maybe you can."
Kokichi tilted his head at the drive, not immediately reaching out for it. She wished he would- the longer she held it out, the more her desire to pull back grew. If there was anybody else she could offer this information to, she would, in a heartbeat. As things stood, only the young man before her likely had the resources and cunning to get this out without being caught and summarily punished.
*It's for the truth... it's all for the truth... people have to know...*
"Why me?" he asked. "You are the news, after all- if this is so important-"
"I don't know the exact reasons," she admitted heavily. "All I know is that once this story really started picking up steam, this man came in, demanding that we run only certain information, only in a certain way- I can't go against him! He... he threatened my father..."
She winced when she realized just what she had admitted to somebody she held such caution towards- she met his eyes to find the mirth gone, replaced by a surprising seriousness- or, at the very least, what he wanted her to believe was seriousness. "What's this guy's name?"
Mahiru paused, then answered. "Masayoshi Shido."
Kokichi nodded. "Alright... hand it over. I'll make sure it sees the light of day."
Suspicion gnawed at Mahiru. "You know him, don't you? You know Shido."
Kokichi reached out and took the drive from her hands, turning it over in his own. "I know that he might just be the least eventual guy in Japan," he muttered, almost to himself.
Then, just as abruptly as it had disappeared, the mirth reappeared in his eyes. "Well, good talk, Mahiru-nee!" he beamed, reaching out and forcefully shaking her hand. "Don't you worry about a thing! Just leave it all to your little bro!"
Funny, that- hearing his assurances only made her worry even more. Nevertheless, she did nothing but watch as he turned and skipped his way out of the garage, whistling merrily to himself.
*What are the consequences of what I've just done?*
XXXX
Chiaki was starting to notice something wrong with the news herself.
The room beneath the Office serving as her temporary workplace came equipped with several holding cells, currently containing three women- one quiet, one playing a harmonica, and one continually screaming obscenities she couldn't hear. On the other end was a flat-screen television bolted to the wall.
Chiaki wasn't usually one to follow the news, but given the turn that events were taking, she couldn't keep her eyes away from it- and what she was seeing chilled her to the bone.
This disease- Captain Trips, they called it, or occasionally Tube-Neck, after the horrific deformations it caused, was still spreading. Even one such as her, deaf to the noises of the outside world, could sense the tension on the streets outside- everybody was nervous, whether they'd say it aloud or not.
The news was going out of its way to assure its viewership that, while this was a crisis, it was a passing thing- it would be over in a couple of weeks. While this outbreak may have occurred under the careless nose of Prime Minister Toranosuke Yoshida (whom many news stations had taken to derisively sneering at as 'No-Good Tora,) an endeavor was underway, led by the fearless Diet member, Masayoshi Shido- under his supervision, a vaccine would be developed within weeks. Chiaki doubted this for several reasons- whenever Shido himself appeared, she couldn't help but distrust everything that came out of his mouth.
She thought her own deafness had something to do with her distrust of the news at the moment- because she wasn't bogged down by their voices, she was noticing several things a more casual viewer might have missed- several little tells indicating most newscasters were far more frightened than they wanted their audience to know. Even more telling than this, however, was what she wasn't seeing.
Over and over, they insisted that under Shido's supervision, many public events previously set to be cancelled were being reinstated- baseball games, movie theaters, the upcoming Risette concert that had been all the talk of the idol world... everything was going to keep moving as scheduled. So they said, but never showed.
Every news broadcast, start to finish, took place entirely within the confines of the studio- not a single glance was shown outside that building, no matter what the casters said. Again, a casual observer may not have noticed, simply taking comfort from their words without realizing just how hollow they may ring.
Chiaki glanced back at her prisoners. Ibuki remained in her bench, blowing into her harmonica, glancing at the television with nervous eyes of her own every so often. Even she was nervous- the woman who had been so jovial even as she was placed into confinement. Natsumi didn't seem to care overly much about the news, focusing her red-faced rage on her captor instead- she'd long since given up on writing obscenities out on the wall. And Sato Edogawa... Edogawa...
Chiaki's heart sank. The third woman in the cell had laid herself down on her bed, white-faced, sweating, shivering. Chiaki had a hunch that her deaf ears were missing a lot of hacking coughs and sneezes, perhaps even the occasional trip to the toilet to vomit.
Panic took her- she couldn't very well leave Natsumi and Ibuki in the same cell as their sick friend, not when there was a very high chance of it spreading. Cold though it may seem, Sato would have to be given a cell of her own until Fuyuhiko saw fit to release them. But Chiaki had no illusions that she could open that cell door without Natsumi immediately attacking- she would need help for this endeavor.
She produced her cell phone, and her heart sank. Ten minutes ago, she had received a message from Peko Pekoyama- it was brief and to-the-point as ever.
*Come. The Young Master wishes to speak with you.*
She stood, and glanced at the prisoners once more. She tried to mime that she was leaving, but would be back momentarily. Ibuki nodded solemnly. Natsumi gave her the bird. Sato didn't seem to see at all.
XXXX
Chiaki knew exactly where to find Fuyuhiko and his watchful protector- packed though the hospitals were, being the heir to such a prominent organization as the Kuzuryuu Clan came with its benefits. Peko waited for her in the lobby- her red eyes flashed behind her glasses when she saw Chiaki approaching. *You're late.*
Chiaki tried miming an apology, but Peko seemed to shake it off. *It hardly matters now- chastising you would take more time than it's worth. The Young Master must speak with us.*
She turned, and without paying any heed to the nurses, doctors, or other workers they passed by- who seemed uncomfortably aware of who they were, or, at least, who Peko was, she led Chiaki down the halls towards the room where her Young Master lay.
He looked terrible, far worse than Sato. Not even his smattering of freckles were visible. He was looking up at the ceiling with his good eye- it took a full minute before Peko finally got his attention. He turned towards them, his eye out of focus, and showing off the swelling that had gone through his neck. Chiaki couldn't hear him speak, but had a hunch that if she could, he would sound just as bad as he looked.
*'Bout time you two got here. Listen... I don't like beating around the bush, so I'll cut to the chase... I'm dyin', and I want to see my sister before I do.*
Peko started, showing more surprise and horror in her face in that moment than Chiaki suspected she'd shown in her entire life before. *Young Master-*
*No point bitchin' about it, we both know it's true,* he rasped. *People are dyin' every day from this thing. I know they're sayin' that Shido bastard's got a cure on the way, but if half of what I've heard about that guy is true, that's a crock of shit.*
*But, Young Master-*
*Quit it, I said,* he cut Peko off, before his speech collapsed into a fit of coughs. *Look, I've had a good run, I don't regret anything... all I want before I kick off is to say goodbye to the people I care about. That means you, Peko, and that means my sister. I don't care what you have to do to get me out of here, I want you to do it, and take me to the office- take me to Natsumi.*
Peko's eyes were welling with tears. *No... Young Master...*
Fuyuhiko started rolling his eye, but started coughing again, and lost the motion halfway through. *This is why I called you, Nanami. I need you to talk her into it- she'll never let me go on her own.*
Chiaki felt rather lost herself- gods alone knew what damage removing a clearly fragile Fuyuhiko from the hospital would cause, but just looking at him, his words rang true- he wasn't long for this world regardless. And if his last wish was, indeed, to see his sister one last time, it wasn't one she could bring herself to deny.
Peko was, for the first time in her life, weeping openly, albeit softly as Chiaki turned to her, placing a silent hand on her shoulder. *No... I can't... I won't do this, Young Master... make me do anything else, but don't ask me to...*
Chiaki looked back to Fuyuhiko- she thought she might spy some tears leaking from his eye as well. Slowly, she moved to his bedside and removed his blanket, revealing a much diminished body- he clearly hadn't been eating all that well. Peko watched but did not intervene as she assisted the young yakuza to his feet, detaching any machines he'd been hooked up to and allowing him to lean on her shoulder as he lurched his way to the door. At last, seeing there was truly nothing she could do to stop him, Peko stepped forward, allowing him to lean on her shoulder instead. Chiaki transferred the weight with grace.
They experienced no more resistance on the march out than on the march in- they earned several odd looks, but nobody attempted to impede their progress. In the parking lot outside, Peko took it upon herself to lift Fuyuhiko into the back of a car, ushering Chiaki in to the other side before taking the wheel herself.
Fuyuhiko collapsed into Chiaki's shoulder before they'd even left the parking lot- she could feel his breathing growing more and more shallow. *Fuck... this is one... helluva cold...*
She allowed him to collapse into her lap, eye closed, breathing growing raspier and raspier as Peko moved as fast as she dared. Even for all of her speed, Chiaki had a sinking feeling that it was already too late.
Her fears proved correct- at a stoplight intersecting Pink Street and Showa Avenue, Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu stopped breathing, and did not start again.
Chiaki looked up to see Peko looking back in the rearview mirror. Her eyes seemed to be pleading with Chiaki to tell her anything other than the truth- she could only shake her head as despair crept in. She looked away, giving Peko privacy as she began sobbing into the wheel.
XXXX
If there was anything worse than Peko's reaction, it was that of Natsumi Kuzuryu. She looked up, ready to start her usual verbal assaults the second the door opened and the two women stepped in- she faltered when she saw the looks on their faces- especially Peko's. She first gingerly asked, then furiously demanded to know what happened- by then, Chiaki thought, she had already figured it out, only seeking to be proven wrong.
Peko's continued grieving silence served as more than enough answer.
*YOU BITCH!* she screamed at Chiaki, fury and despair mingling into a horrifying combination, creating a red-eyed madness. *YOU FUCKING BITCH! THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT- EVERYTHING WAS FINE UNTIL YOU SHOWED UP! YOU BROUGHT THIS ON US! YOU DID! YOU DID!*
A clumsy argument, but of course, in the depths of despair, a person is often not at their most rational. Natsumi, learning in this roundabout way that she would never see her brother again, was quite deep in despair. Chiaki returned to her seat on the sofa, and allowed Natsumi to continue screaming. At this point, it may well be all she had left.
XXXX
It was on April 23rd, roughly three weeks after the outbreak began, that Japan came to know the truest facts regarding the case. The facts came to them, not through the common news, but through a hijacking operated by an unknown sect from Shibuya. At 4:37 in the afternoon, every Japanese citizen watching the news (the grand majority, as so many were on tenterhooks for any news regarding Captain Trips,) when the broadcast began to fizzle out- it was replaced by a black-and-white checked screen. Superimposed above this in bright blue letters were the words
WE PRESENT
A SPECIAL
PRESENTATION
A voice spoke over the image, distorted in a clear effort to disguise the speaker. Many viewers weren't even certain as to whether it was a man or a woman, though in this case, the details didn't matter overly much- it was what was said that caused the greatest concern.
"Goooooooooooood afteroon, Sunrise Land!" the voice called. "I hope you're all doing well today- or so I wish I could say, but I know for a fact that most of you aren't!
"How 'bout these newsboys, huh? Sure, they're talkin' 'Captain Trips' this, 'Find a cure' that, but have you ever stopped to wonder if they're telling you the full truth? I know I have, so I did some digging, and what I found was... unsettling, to say the least."
The screen began to shift, showing several grotesque images. What seemed like the feed from a security camera flashed up, showing off a building full of dead scientists. "Over here, we have the people most responsible for the outbreak of this dreadful, dreadful disease," the voice announced, in a tone suggesting the speaker was shaking their head in disbelief. "What you are looking at, my friends, are the sad remains of the Future Foundation's Location 99, moments after a certain strain of flu broke out of their labs. Why were they developing it? Hell if I know, but I guess that doesn't really matter anymore, does it? What matters is, it's out now, and this is what it did within seconds of its first breakout."
The screen shifted again- images flashed by of what seemed like soldiers marching on a small town. "And here we see members of the Future Foundation marching on the small town of Iwakuni, forcing everyone under quarantine and forcefully kidnaping anyone who looked like they dodged a bullet. I get wanting to find a cure and all, but geez, they didn't even give this guy a chance!"
He spoke, of course, of Makoto Naegi- it seemed someone had managed to break out their cell phone in time to capture the brown-haired boy being tackled and forced into the back of a large van.
"But at the end of the day," the voice reflected, "they were at least trying to clean up this mess they made- if you want a real villain in this story, look away from the Future Foundation, and to the man who wanted to really turn a profit on all this- Masayoshi Shido!"
A picture of Shido flashed. It lingered for a few secondes before reappearing with a crude moustache, pointed beard, monocle, and top hat markered onto his features.
"You all could have known the truth way ahead of time, if it weren't for this guy!" the voice proclaimed scathingly. "Where there's a disaster, there's always someone looking to capitalize on it! You all know him as the guy working day and night to find a cure for the disease, but do you really think he knows anything more about this than the scientists who invented the damn thing in the first place?"
To drive the point home, the screen again cut to the scientists of the Future Foundation, struck dead before they'd realized anything was wrong.
"No, he fills your hearts with false hope, false promises, just so he can reap the rewards of your loyalty. He doesn't know how to stop this, and we have the proof."
The pictures that followed were the most grotesque yet- trucks driving through towns entirely wiped out, picking up corpses by the dozens. Dead bodies being dumped into the ocean, far away from the public eye, all done by men and women in hazard suits.
"This thing isn't stopping," the voice noted coldly as the screen finally returned to its original status- black and white checks, letters in bright blue. "Shido may only care about smearing his opponents and winning himself some brownie points, but we all care about the truth, don't we? And the truth is, things are far worse than anyone wants you to think. Shido doesn't care about us as anything other than stepping stones. If we want anything done... it's up to us-"
The voice barely finished that final line before the screens descended into static again, finally returning to the original broadcasting stations, run by casters that were suddenly looking rather horrified themselves, though they struggled to hide it behind faux smiles. "Well, um... we certainly apologize for that breach, we're not sure how-"
It was far too late for damage control. The worst week in Japanese history had already been set in motion.
XXXX
Throughout the announcement, Makoto sat in his bed, staring, slack-jawed at his television screen. He'd known things were getting bad, Kyosuke had revealed that much to him, but things were so, so much worse than he'd imagined. And the news was trying to cover it up?
A dark feeling rose in his chest. As bad as things were... they were no doubt about to get much worse.
XXXX
Sayaka had been on the verge of leaving her house to go to Leon's when the hijacking began. He had been growing steadily worse, and she had decided to take him over to her house so she could look over him and her father alike until they got better- he had agreed with minimal complaint, after being cut off by his own hacking coughs.
Needless to say, her ears pricked when she heard the television suddenly change so drastically, especially when her father gave a nervous laugh. "Why... Sayaka, come in, look at this... you ever seen anything like this?"
Sayaka came, and her eyes widened as the speech continued, her heart racing as she exchanged horrified looks with her father. When it came to an end, she was shaking, on the verge of weeping. "No... no, this can't be... it can't be true..."
XXXX
Kaito had been watching the news from the beginning with his grandmother, and as the segment came to a close, he attempted to brush it aside with a brave laugh. "That's one heck of a bad joke, isn't it?" he forced himself to chuckle.
His grandmother's eyes told him she didn't find it that funny, either.
"That... that is a joke, right? It has to be!"
Her eyes remained fixed on the television as her hand unconsciously reached up towards her puffy throat, just beginning to swell.
XXXX
The next day, rioting began. Nothing is more dangerous than a fearful animal, and for all mankind's conceits, at the end of the day, we, too, are simply animals that learned to use tools.
Chiaki had watched the hijacking with no small amount of distress. She couldn't hear the voice, but the imagery told the story well enough for her to piece together the rest- she had rushed out of the Office to Peko's apartment building, where she'd found the woman refusing to eat. She attempted to tell her everything she'd seen, but Peko no longer seemed interested in much of anything, only eating or drinking when Chiaki practically forced her.
It had started off as a simple depression, with a very clear source, but over the next couple of days (during which the visits became more and more difficult,) Chiaki began to develop another fear, one that was eventually proven true when she found Peko flat on her back, staring deliriously at the ceiling. Nevertheless, she smiled brilliantly when she saw Chiaki entering the apartment. *Ah... Young Master, you've returned!*
There was no longer any doubt in Chiaki's mind- Peko, too, had fallen ill.
She had considered dragging Peko to the hospital, but she had a hunch the privileges that had earned Fuyuhiko a spot in the emergency ward wouldn't extend to Peko, especially with the city in as much disarray as it currently was. If anything, the Office and the nearby apartment building Peko was staying in were relatively safe compared to the area where the hospital was- though Chiaki had her doubts about how long it would remain so.
It became her custom to leave the Office three times a day, head to Peko's apartment, and make sure she got something down. She was struggling to keep an eye on all of her charges at once, but was determined to do it nonetheless. She couldn't move Peko, nor could she exactly let Natsumi and the others go- not with Natsumi in the state she was- she'd likely try to kill Chiaki the moment the door was open, and Peko wasn't exactly capable of protecting her anymore.
When the food in Peko's apartment ran out, she began sneaking into abandoned stores and restaurants, taking what food she could and leaving what payment she could for owners who may or may not ever return. She felt guilty, but given the circumstances around her, felt that she had little other choice.
It was on the fourth day that Peko produced Fuyuhiko's eyepatch. *Your patch, Young Master... you don't want your eye getting infected.*
Chiaki had never asked exactly what had happened to Fuyuhiko's eye- from the looks of things, she'd never know now. She had no idea if it was the type of injury that could get infected, or if that was, indeed, the reason for the patch- nor did she much care. Peko believed that was the reason, and that was good enough for her. She took the offered patch and placed it over her right eye, which earned a smile from her charge.
*You look like a true yakuza with that on... your father would be proud...*
Chiaki gave a very wan smile and, more than at any other time in her life, cursed her inability to respond.
She was sure to take the patch off again before returning to the cell block below the office. The second she stepped in, Natsumi began shouting at her, and though she couldn't hear it, she thought Natsumi seemed even more hysterical than before. She was making frantic motions towards Sato, drawing Chiaki's eyes to her.
Her heart sank. Sato was dead.
Natsumi's lips told the whole story. *THERE! SHE'S DEAD! IS THAT WHAT YOU WANTED?! OUR LIVES?! IS THAT YOUR GAME, YOU SICK FUCK?!* She paused, slumping against the bars, coughing and wheezing, suddenly very white-faced. Ibuki nearly dropped her harmonica, which she had finally ceased to play, simply turning it over in her hands. She knelt in an effort to lift Natsumi off the ground, but was quickly slapped away. *DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME, YOU IDIOT! YOU WANNA CATCH THIS YOURSELF? THIS BITCH WANTS US ALL DEAD! YOU WANNA JUST GIVE THAT TO HER?!"
Ibuki slowly backed away as Natsumi retreated to the back of the cell and slumped over, clearly losing the energy for her verbal barrage. Anything that remained was a disconnected stream of *bitch*es and *get her*s. Chiaki looked from her to Ibuki, silently apologizing as she returned to her seat. Just like the past week, she didn't touch her game girl. She really hadn't felt like gaming lately.
XXXX
Mukuro Ikusaba did not have a television in or anywhere near her cell- she did not witness the hijacking to any extent. However, she did have a window through which she could peer, and a great deal of experience most young women her age did not. She recognized a battlefield when she heard it. It was hardly organized armies out there, with tactical precision and know-how, but in some ways, that likely made it worse.
"Hello?" she spoke into the hallway past her bars.
For a long moment, there was no answer.
"Hello! What's going on out there?"
Finally, a guard answered- not looking angry, as the past several had been, and as he'd no doubt like her to believe, but frightened. "Shut up! What is it?"
"What's happening out there?" she repeated.
"Why should it matter to you? You... you're not going out there for... for..." For all his effort to sound severe, his voice quaked, and he was unable to finish his sentence.
Mukuro glanced from side to side. "...I haven't been fed yet today."
The guard looked, seeing that it was true, nodded curtly before shuffling off.
Mukuro lifted her bunk, gauging the space beneath it. She knew warfare better than many men twice her age, let alone women her same age. She'd even been taken prisoner before, and if there was anything she knew, it was that during wartime, food tended to get very scarce, very quickly. It was time to start rationing.
XXXX
The riots in the streets were the perfect compliment to the disease that had caused them in the first place, allowing it to spread even more rapidly. Any efforts to bring them under control only brought more inevitable chaos. The most peculiar of all were those- sick and healthy alike- that almost seemed to want the chaos to continue- odd people with what seemed almost like spirals in their eyes, behaving almost like a cult, calling out in service of some entity they referred to as The Dark Woman, The Walking Gal, or The Queen of Despair. Their message seemed simple- for all its sins, humanity deserved to die- and so their Queen of Despair had descended from on high to deliver them rapture.
Even such a crazy idea as this proved infectious to the many people clamoring for some reason, any reason behind the terrible things that were happening- and if the answer was this Dark Woman, this Lady Flagg, as some seemed to call her, then they would cling even to that, whether it was to praise her or condemn her- whether or not she existed at all was ultimately irrelevant.
On the fifth day of the riots, Masayoshi Shido was finally able to organize an event in Shibuya, calling for an end to the riots. "I can assure you, these rumors of body gathering and dumping are simply not true. These are lies spread by a group of deplorables in an effort to undermine our-"
These were the last words he ever spoke. From the crowd came a resounding *BANG!* There were news crews there, recording his speech- over the following two frames of footage, a black spot appears in front of Shido's face- then in his forehead, before he keeled backwards, dead before he hit the ground.
Even in Japan, a country known for its strict gun laws, there were ways to find them if one looked hard enough. At the height of its stability, it might be nigh-impossible but for the most organized of crime, but with chaos descending upon the country as it was, certain things once restricted were becoming more freely available. It took the assassination of Masayoshi Shido for many to realize this, but once it had happened, it could not be undone. Within 24 hours, the fearful masses were killing each other more easily than ever.
XXXX
Mahiru breathed deeply as she was forced behind the newscaster desk herself for the first time in her life. The station's plan was simple- they would have her claim to be the woman who found the footage leaked during that fateful hijacking, and, more to the point, claim to have faked it all. It was a last-ditch attempt to quell the rioting going on outside, one she doubted would work, but as they say, a dying man will grasp at straw. She very much doubted they actually knew the footage actually had come from her, but at this point, they likely didn't care. She was a very trusted name in news, and that was enough for them.
As they prepared to roll, she stared at her hands, wondering how things could possibly have gone so wrong. Part of her wanted to foist all the blame onto Kokichi, to believe that everything that had transpired over this awful week was his fault, but in her heart, she couldn't bring herself to truly believe this. Some of the rioting might be due to the way he'd delivered the information, but the grand majority of it had to do with the awful truth being revealed itself- and that lay squarely on her shoulders. The thought haunted her. In this case... had telling the truth been the wrong thing? Would she have been better suited to go along with Shido's lies, and the comfort it brought to the public, no matter how false?"
At the same time, she couldn't bring herself to truly believe that either. She thought it was very much a lose-lose situation truth or no truth, it was only a small adjustment to the cart the masses were dying in.
"And we are live in three... two... one..."
The cameras were rolling. She looked at them directly, unable to force herself to smile. "Hello. My name is... Mahiru Koizumi. If you just watch the news, you might not know me- I do more writing and photography than anything. About a week ago, you likely witnessed a hijacking of this channel by an anonymous group who made several... several claims about the superflu."
XXXX
Makoto perked up when he heard these words. He had been watching the world descend into madness through his small screen all week, feeling himself fall towards madness, unable to do anything about it. He sensed something about this woman, something like what the dream-woman Ryoko Otonashi had referred to as 'shining.' He watched with baited breath, certain that, whatever she said next, it would deeply affect the days to come.
XXXX
Leon coughed as he called to Sayaka and her father. "Hey! Hey, come look at this- this sounds important!"
Within moments, the Maizonos had arrived, waiting with baited breath for Mahiru Koizumi's next words. Sayaka wanted so badly for her to explain that everything that had happened so far was some horrible mistake, a mean joke perpetrated by the news, anything other than it being actual, tangible reality. Deep down, she felt certain that was not what was about to happen.
XXXX
And if Sayaka could recognize it, then Kaito, who had known Mahiru for several years, definitely saw it. "Mahiru..." he whispered to himself. "What the..."
He kept quiet- his grandmother was asleep upstairs. He'd gone to the attic to retrieve his father's guitar, which had gotten him into music in the first place. He'd been a little rusty, but was eventually able to play well enough to put his grandmother into a somewhat restful sleep. The guitar currently sat at the other end of the sofa as he raptly watched the television, where his ex-girlfriend delivered a shaky speech. He could tell she was being coerced- it was written all over her face, and he found himself unconsciously clenching her fists. "Mahiru... what the hell is going on?"
XXXX
"Whether you call it Captain Trips, Tube Neck, or something else altogether, it's clear that we're all frightened of it, and understandably so," she continued, fighting off the sweat as well as she could. "However, I would like to make some clarifications about the footage shown during that hijacking. The footage... the images..."
They swam before her as she spoke- the trucks collecting bodies, the ships dumping them... she fought not to break into tears. "Those images came from me," she continued. "The images came from me, and they were..."
The moment of truth. She looked at the people before her, practically holding her at gunpoint, silently threatening her to tell that comforting lie in a last-ditch effort to bring the nation under control.
She couldn't do it.
"The images were absolutely real," she said quickly. "I retrieved them from various sources. The hijacking was correct in stating that Masayoshi Shido was working to repress these images and the true extend of-"
Before she could get any further, everything descended into hell. The doors at the opposite end of the studio burst open. There was screaming, the sound of gunfire.
The camera fell over and smashed.
The broadcast ended, not with a hijacking, but simple colored bars.
XXXX
"What the-" Makoto gasped, gaping, open-mouthed, at what he'd just seen.
XXXX
"What the fuck?!" Leon completed the thought. He stared in open-mouthed horror at the screen.
Mr. Maizono didn't look much better than he did, but it was Sayaka that took the cake, breaking into tears and falling back into the sofa. The men made to comfort her, but ill as they both were, there wasn't much they could do that didn't ring hollow.
XXXX
"MAHIRU!" Kaito leapt towards his television as if he could pass through it and join his old flame on the other side, defending her from whatever dangers had suddenly befallen her. "No, Mahiru! MAHIRU!"
Of course, he could do no such thing, instead resorting to gripping either side of the TV and screaming. "You leave her alone, you bastards, you leave her alone!"
For all his screaming and shaking, the television did not return to its original broadcast- not on that day, nor on any other.
XXXX
On the dawn of the eighth day following the hijacking, Chiaki found the streets between her temporary residence and the Office quite empty. She turned on the television, but found nothing on any station, not that she'd expected to. She tossed the remote onto the floor carelessly and made her way through the empty streets.
She descended through the Office to where her charges were kept, and her heart nearly stopped beating. Natsumi was laying on the ground face-down near the cell's back, unmoving. She moved slowly to the door, looking primarily at Ibuki, who was tapping her fingers together nervously.
*I... Ibuki woke up this morning, and Natsumi was dead, too,* she related, looking sadly from her fallen comrades to Chiaki. *Can you... will you let Ibuki go now? She promises not to attack you... she never wanted you hurt in the first place. Ibuki... really doesn't want to be here anymore.*
Chiaki glanced listlessly from the dead bodies to the sole survivor. She headed to the nearby desk, fumbled for the drawer, and returned with the key. She slid it into the lock, and a second later, the door swung open. At long last, Ibuki stepped out, looking gratefully at Chiaki.
*Thank you. Ibuki will find a way to pay you back one day, she promises.*
Without further adieu, she was out the door and up the stairs on the other side. Chiaki watched her go, slowly coming to the realization that there wasn't exactly anything left for her here either. All there was left was Peko.
She was back on the streets within minutes- not a soul in sight as she entered the nearest shopping center and picked up some basic food for her final charge.
She was careful to don Fuyuhiko's patch before entering the apartment, where she found Peko exactly where she'd spent the previous week- which is to say, laying on the sofa, staring into space. She looked horrible, every bit as bad as Fuyuhiko had, sending shivers down Chiaki's spine.
*Oh, Young Master, you've returned,* she greeted when she spied Chiaki. A pained smile spread across her face. *Thank you so much... you've been so... so good to me.*
Chiaki wished beyond all other things that she could speak, respond to Peko's words with kind words of her own.
*Young Master, I... I fear I may be going away soon... I don't know when I'll be back again... if you could... come closer...*
Chiaki considered for a moment, then did as she was asked.
Peko looked horrible, but her smile as the one she perceived to be her Young Master drew near was among the most beautiful sights Chiaki had ever seen. She struggled to raise her hands, wrapping one around Chiaki's cheek. *You've grown... into such a fine man... Young Master... I just wish I could... I could...*
Her hands dropped, and her eyes raised towards the ceiling. Chiaki found herself plopping onto the table behind her, staring at the shell that had once been retainer to a yakuza. Her shoulders began to bob- she lifted the patch up and wiped at the tears she could feel forming.
For a solid five minutes, she allowed herself to weep, freely and silently into the empty apartment. After a while, she realized that while letting her emotions out would make her feel better in the short run, it would do little good in the long term. She needed to decide what to do, and she needed to decide quick.
The first thing to do was make sure she had her things together. She needed to be ready to move at the drop of a hat. She looked through her backpack- she had some food she'd filched from the empty convenience store, her gamegirl, her notebook-
No. No, she didn't have her notebook. Vaguely, she recalled leaving it in a drawer back in the Office. It was the last thing she really wanted to do, but she had no desire to leave that notebook behind, not when it contained so much of herself already in its first few brief pages.
She reached forward and closed Peko's eyes. She wished she could give her a proper burial- that she could give them all a proper burial, even Natsumi- but there was simply no time.
She hoisted her backpack onto her back and left the apartment for the final time. She headed down the stairs, no longer trusting elevators, and exited back onto those silent streets.
On the way back to the Office, she passed a monument. She must have passed it hundreds of times during her time in the city without giving it much thought- it was a simple statue depicting the Buddha in his famous pose, offering peace to all those that took his teachings to heart.
That was not what caught her eye. What caught her eye was the message spray-painted on the pedestal below in gentle blue letters.
ARE YOU THERE, GOD? WE'LL BE COMING TO YOU SOON.
LOVE, JAPAN.
Beneath, a more cynical addition in harsh red.
PS: I HOPE YOU STILL HAVE SOME VACANCIES BY THE END OF THE WEEK.
XXXX
Please R&R, Gamer4 out.