Chapter 8: A Look Outside
(AN: A big thank you to Siatru for beta reading this chapter.)
"-And so, I propose we focus on public improvement projects. Not only will this have an immediately positive impact on our neighborhood, but it will both endear our organization to the locals and differentiate us from the gangs as a source of constructive employment." I looked up from my page of notes, densely covered in a scrawl of mixed kanji and Germanian, and met Naoto's gaze from across the table. And now, to conclude. "As such, we should prioritize importing staple foods in bulk, multi-vitamins, and portable water purifiers. While this will have a less immediate impact then handing out weapons to anybody who can use them, it will likely produce more long-term support without attracting immediate retaliation from the gangs." Not to mention that untrained fools running around with guns would be more likely to shoot each other than the Britannians.
"Of course," I continued, "the question of funding presents a potential stumbling block." As always, the hardest part of any pitch was convincing the client to part with their cash. And unfortunately, there really was no way around it. "At the moment, we lack the necessary revenue streams to initiate a true revitalization project – not to mention that any sign of sudden prosperity in the Ghetto runs the risk of attracting interest from the Britannians or the gangs." Shifting the focus from the lack of organizational liquidity to other concerns would help the medicine go down. "However, I believe that a pilot program funded by the income from the raid two days ago will demonstrate the potential benefits this program has to offer."
The morning after I'd met with Ohgi and Inoue, I had woken even earlier than normal and begun to assemble a new strategic pitch based on what I'd learned and seen. I'd worked through the day, weighing ideas and trying to suss out all points of failure, and had ended up burning through several plans before settling on my current concept.
At present, the Kozuki cell in Shinjuku was weak, and wouldn't be able to attack either the gangs or the Britannians head-on. We'd only achieved our first minor victory through ambush, and I couldn't count on my luck holding, not with Being X no doubt still laughing at me from his timeless moments. After some war-gaming, I decided that attempting to subtly escalate hostilities between the gangs would be a bad move – even if we weren't caught in the inevitable crossfire, lots of ordinary civilians would be, which would go against the stated aim of the organization with minimal benefit. Besides, Japanese civilians wouldn't be the only ones potentially caught in the crossfire, considering the number of Britannians who attended various unsavory entertainments hosted by the gangs, and nothing would stir up official interest in Shinjuku faster than dead Britannian nobles.
My next thought was trying to take the fight to the Britannian Concession, specifically the newly dubbed "Tokyo Settlement". Unfortunately, the difficulty of smuggling things into the Concession, as well as our lack of the necessary expertise and material, forced me to shelve this plan for the foreseeable future.
Similarly, my plan to begin generating funding for the rebellion by smuggling amphetamines and other drugs into the Concession had to be shelved for the same reasons. We lacked the expertise and material to really establish a profitably large supply of drugs to distribute in the Britannian sectors, as well as the means to smuggle the product from Shinjuku to the Tokyo Settlement.
But while smuggling items from Shinjuku into the Tokyo Settlement was difficult, the inverse wasn't necessarily true. If Inoue and Ohgi were correct, large numbers of Britannian nobles, soldiers, and commoners were coming to the Shinjuku Ghetto on a routine basis, and were greasing the palms of the guards to take no official notice of them or their activities. This meant that not only were significant numbers of the local garrison willing to be bribed, they were also unconcerned about items being smuggled into Shinjuku.
Ultimately, the best plan I could come up with was to adopt a more constructive approach towards our dealings with the people of Shinjuku. The people here had virtually nothing beyond the clothes on their backs – starvation and disease were constant facts of life, and the squalid living conditions did nothing to improve either the health or the long-term prospects of the people. Giving them anything would help us secure both their loyalty and the bone fides as true defenders of the Japanese man in the street.
I figured that the best place to start would be addressing the ever mounting food shortage. Importing bulk amounts of staple grains into the Ghetto would at least keep bellies full, while bringing in multivitamins would hopefully offset the results of nutritional deficiencies, like scurvy and rickets. Water purifiers would help reduce the negative health factors of life in Shinjuku, and would hopefully reduce the high post-Conquest rate of child mortality as well, preserving the labor force of tomorrow.
Naoto looked thoughtful as I shuffled my notes. I hoped at least some of what I'd said had gotten through to him. I knew he was the hot-blooded sort, and this sort of non-confrontational strategy probably hadn't been what he'd been hoping for since he'd promoted me after my strike on the gang members, but I'd made sure to frame my plan as merely preparatory, building up our base of public support and personnel before we struck out against the parasitic gangs and the hated invaders.
Finally, he stirred. "Well, Tanya, this is certainly... ambitious. You've got some really great ideas here. But..." He paused, looking unsure of what to say next, and leaving me full of anxiety as the momentary pause stretched on. But? But what?! What's your objection? Just spit it out already.
Before Naoto could express his reservations, someone knocked on the apartment door. With an expression of clear relief, Naoto lept to his feet and looked into the peephole. I quickly spun up my enhancements, ready to hurl myself towards the pistol concealed behind a pot on the counter, but relaxed as Naoto let Kallen into the room.
The younger Kozuki looked incongruously out of place in the dingy apartment, sparkling clean in clothes that, while not flashy, were a significant step above the shabby hand-me-downs worn by practically everyone else in Shinjuku. In a peculiar way, her blatantly Britannian appearance probably kept her safer than any attempt at blending in would have, considering the typical punishment meted out for any Britannian death. I could only imagine that the standard one hundred punitive executions would likely be far more enthusiastic than normal if the Britannian in question was the pretty young daughter of a powerful lord, instead of some random worker or soldier.
"Kallen! Good to see you! How was school?" Naoto enthusiastically greeted his sister as she walked over to the table and took the seat he'd just occupied. I nodded at her, and she smiled and nodded back at me before turning back to her brother.
"It's got way too many Britannians in it – just like the rest of Japan." Kallen quipped, a sharp smile that didn't reach her eyes on her face. "That said, it's gotten pretty interesting lately." She turned back to me and dropped the smile. "So, I met someone who might be a useful source of info, but she keeps dropping hints that she knows something about me."
Behind her, I saw Naoto's eyes widen in alarm, and I did my best to avoid following suit. I can't lose my cool in front of the troops, but this could be bad – if Kallen's been found out, she could have just led the whole Britannian army to our door!
I took a deep, calming breath, and put aside my worry. If we were already doomed, we were doomed, and there was no use panicking about it. "Kallen, are you in danger? More to the point, are we about to get our door kicked down by the Britannians?"
She looked puzzled, then laughed. "No, no. I was thinking the same thing when I first met her, but she said she knew a secret of mine in the middle of a hallway at school, and has been hanging out with me ever since." Naoto and I relaxed, releasing our breaths in sync. "It's starting to piss me off," Kallen continued, looking increasingly frustrated. "That damned Milly Ashford just isn't leaving me alone – any time I'm outside of class, she's practically hanging off my shoulder! She even follows me into the bathroom!"
Now Naoto looked concerned for a different reason, but I set aside his brotherly worries and focused on the name Kallen had just dropped. "Milly Ashford? Any relation to the Ashford who started the academy?"
"Yeah, she's old Ruben Ashford's granddaughter. He's still running Ashford Academy, by the way." Kallen took back the notebook, and turned to a page near the back before pushing it back across the table. "Anyway, here's what I know about her so far."
Apparently, the Ashfords weren't actually nobility, at least not anymore. They'd backed the wrong horse during one of the royal family's internal squabbles, and been stripped of their titles as a result, but apparently not their wealth or much of their property. They had chosen to exile themselves in Area 11 after the Conquest, and had opened the doors of Ashford Academy a year after arriving. Why would a disgraced noble family move to Japan and start an educational institution? It made no sense, as far as a strategy to reclaim their standing as aristocrats went. No matter how valuable they are for the administration, nor how many contacts they make with the local movers and shakers, Area 11 is pretty provincial as far as Imperial Areas go. The only truly important thing about Area 11 is its strategic Sakuradite reserve, but that was almost certainly locked down under the personal supervision of the royal family.
I set my curiosity about the Ashford family's status aside for the moment, and quickly read the profile Kallen had drawn up for Milly. It sounded like the girl was every inch a noble, official status notwithstanding, a consummate socialite and completely unable to separate business and pleasure. She certainly wasn't a fool, though – based on Kallen's notes, Milly was frighteningly good at uncovering secrets and deploying them to devastating social effect, and had essentially unquestioned control over the student body beyond what the cachet of being the principal's granddaughter could explain. Combined with her apparent at-will access to student records, I could understand why Kallen was attempting to cultivate Milly as a source.
That said, a knife that sharp can cut both ways. "Be very careful with her, Kallen." I advised as I closed the notebook and handed it back. "She's a master of intrigue, and you're just a novice. Don't let her get in your head – remember your objective, and don't let her endanger you or the cause." Kallen gave a determined nod, and I smiled. She's so dutiful... And those were pretty thorough notes for an amateur, and very well organized... If she knows how to brew coffee, she might make a good adjunct...
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, and ignored the phantom scent of ersatz yet delicious coffee, mixed with cordite and mud. That was long ago, and far away.
Naoto and Kallen were both looking at me, and both looked worried about something. For lack of a better response, I gave my usual dimple smile and shrug combination, hoping the cutesy act would distract from whatever it was that had made them look at me with the same pity you show a crippled relative stuck in a hospital bed, the same contempt veiled in compassion that way.
"Oh, I've got an idea!" Naoto's blatantly fake cheeriness was as welcome as it was forced, moving the conversation along. "Kallen, Tanya wants to look into buying some good food outside of Shinjuku – why don't you help her with that?"
And suddenly I felt like I was back in the middle of that damned photoshoot, the photographer and... the photographer ooh'ing and aah'ing over me, and forcing me into the most ridiculous outfits. Kallen's eyes seemed to change, shifting from her typically intense glare to a more coldly analytical focus.
"We're going to have to get her in some better clothes first." Kallen's voice had changed too, and I felt my heart drop into my stomach at the note of eagerness under the detached tone. "I've got some old clothes that might just be a bit too big for her back at the Manor."
Naoto smiled with apparent sincerity at this idea, and I felt the jaws of inescapable fate close around me. I'm not some kind of doll, dammit! Why do people get so enthusiastic about dressing me up?! Apparently, my consternation was not as well hidden as I thought, as Naoto's smile slipped momentarily when he looked back at me, but he recovered immediately.
"C'mon, Tanya, it's a great idea! You'll get some new clothes, some good food... What's not to like?" Naoto's damned charisma made my initial objections about being subjected to this errand catch in my throat, and I felt myself beginning to slip down the path to meek acquiescence. Gah! No, I need to come up with something! The last thing I need is to show up looking even more Britannian than I already do! Tamaki will never take me seriously! I cast around, trying to find something to object about.
Fortunately, Kallen threw me a lifeline. "Well, she does look pretty Britannian with those blue eyes, but she doesn't speak English. It's going to be a problem getting through the checkpoint, especially if the damned guards actually feel like doing their jobs."
Naoto nodded at that, before adopting a thoughtful expression. "Maybe she could just pretend to be very shy and quiet? You can do the talking, and translate for Tanya once you reach the grocery store?"
And now I had a different problem. I did know some English from my first life and from the first years of schooling I'd had in this life, but I was certainly rusty at best; the problem was that my value as a potential infiltrator into Britannian society would drop like a stone if Naoto thought I couldn't speak the language.
And so, for the first time in over five years, I decided to take a stab at speaking the tongue of perfidious Albion. "I 'ave... zum English." My voice was slow and halting, the unfamiliar consonants catching in my mouth. "I vas... top student... in shool, before."
On one hand, I hated how childish I sounded. My clunky sentence structure, the halting gaps as I grasped for words, the way my already high voice piped at the end of sentences, all of it was embarrassing. On the other hand, the surprise on the Kozuki siblings' faces was delicious, particularly Kallen's open mouthed gape as I forced the sentences out.
"Ze teacher... said I vas... quick study." I continued, trying to remember how to make the th sound and trying to figure out why my enunciation was so clearly Germanian. I hadn't learned English from a German in my first life or a Germanian in the second, but clearly years of speaking one western language had impacted my accent in another. "But I only... remember... ze basic vocabulary... I fear."
Naoto was grinning like a fool, the bastard, and clapped me on the back. "You're already speaking better than half the hooligans in our old neighborhood!" He said in English, taking care to speak slowly and deliberately before switching back to Japanese. "Don't worry, you can just reply to everybody who asks you a question with 'whatever' – you're almost a teenager, they'll expect you to be a passive aggressive little brat at your age! Kallen sure was!"
As the ensuing sibling squabble played out in the background, I surrendered to the inevitable and began to pull on my shoes. My hand itched to snag my pistol, to not enter enemy territory unarmed, but I knew that a shabbily dressed apparent Britannian would be one thing for the soldiers manning the checkpoint to overlook – an armed vagrant would be something entirely different. And so, sadly unarmed, I followed Kallen out of the apartment and down into the street.
As we walked towards the checkpoint, the familiar anxiety of walking into a major meeting unprepared began to grow within me. There were so many points of failure in this little excursion alone, and I lacked information I needed to ensure my safe return to Shinjuku. Will anyone recognize my accent and think I'm a European spy? How am I going to carry my purchases back into Shinjuku without getting stopped? Will the soldiers manning the checkpoint ask for my papers?
Fortunately, that last concern proved almost completely unwarranted.
"Ah, Lady Stadtfeld! You're back already, huh?" All of the soldiers looked identical in their body armor and full-face helmets, but I saw a chevron on the shoulder of the one who greeted Kallen as she presented her ID. "I don't blame you for hurrying – the whole place is just full of the stench of Elevens, huh?"
I tensed slightly, remembering the fire in Kallen's eyes back on that lonely street. Fortunately, she demonstrated an admirable degree of professional detachment; somewhere between Naoto's apartment and here, Kallen's persona had changed completely. Instead of her typical intense stare, full of passion and vigor, her eyes were meek and soft, as was her voice as she replied. "Thank you for your concern, Sergeant. I managed to complete Mother's errand unexpectedly quickly today." She stepped through the checkpoint and waved at me, beckoning me to join her. I quickly reviewed how Kallen had she'd carried herself, squared my shoulders, and walked up to the checkpoint.
"And who's this?" The Sergeant was unsurprisingly unimpressed by my diminutive form, and I did my best to not shrink back. I'd killed men like him by the hundred over the Rhine Front, and I'd killed two more with just a knife and the element of surprise only days ago. I was unarmed, but I was far from helpless. "Where's your papers, girl?"
Kallen walked to my side, and put a hand on my shoulder. "Mother sent me to retrieve her. It's not something I'm at liberty to discuss, Sergeant. I thank you for you discretion in this matter." She reached out towards the soldier, and I saw a quick flash of a small bundle of bills changing hands. Surprisingly, he didn't even count it, just hastily made it disappear into a pouch on his belt.
"Well, far be it to get in the way of your mother's errands, Lady Stadtfeld." He stepped back, and waved us through. "But if you want my advice, you should probably give the poor girl a meal and a bath – she stinks almost as bad as one of those monkeys if I can smell her through this helmet!"
Kallen dutifully thanked the sergeant and bade him a good day, as I quietly stood slightly behind her, doing my best to ignore the squad of armed soldiers idling about the checkpoint. I didn't know if they would have been as willing to accept a bribe in the broad daylight if I had looked even the slightest bit like an Eleven, or if the person facilitating my exit from Shinjuku wasn't the heir of a noble house, but either way it had proved immaterial. Locating a source of ID cards, papers, and cover identities is going to be a priority.
After passing through the checkpoint, Kallen and I moved off down the road at an unhurried pace, doing our best to look as natural as possible. At least, I had to try to look natural and uninterested in the world around me – this was the first time I had left Shinjuku Ghetto since my mother and I had been forced into the district after the Conquest. For years, my world had been constrained by the Britannian checkpoints and the walls that cordoned off most of the Ghetto from the outside world. While the northwestern side of the Ghetto, the furthest area from the Tokyo Settlement, didn't have a wall, it was also far enough away by foot that I'd never ranged that far from my old apartment when looking for work.
It felt like I'd once again traveled to a different world. The handful of people out on the street around me reminded me of American television shows I'd occasionally watched in my first life, more than anything else. Predominantly Caucasian, the people around me dressed in a wide variety of clothes, and all of them seemed to practically glow with health and cleanliness. Thinking rationally, I knew they were just people, no different than the standard Japanese crowds that had occupied the Tokyo of my first life, and in some ways less remarkable than the magical Imperials of my second life's Berun, but... After so long in the slums, they looked almost like a different species. They even carried themselves differently – in the slums, most people carried the burdens of their life under occupation on their backs, but here all the Britannians walked upright with pride.
Suddenly, I realized just how out of place I looked. It had been easy to understand that intellectually back in Shinjuku, especially after meeting Kallen for the first time and being reminded what people with food security looked like, but the emotional weight hadn't quite hit. In Shinjuku, Kallen looked ridiculously out of place, and it was easy to dismiss my own qualms about my appearance due to both the sheer incongruity of her appearance in the slum and her family's excellent genes. Outside of the Ghetto, the novelty of her appearance had worn off, but the differences were just as profound. The weight of how wretched I looked sank into my bones as I thought about the heavily worn and mended clothes I was wearing, and how the bones stood out in my hands.
The momentary shame quickly sublimated into an internal rage, and I found myself sympathizing with Tamaki's reaction to an apparent 'Brit' in his safehouse. The simple knowledge of how wide the gulf was between how our two populations lived was infuriating, and I wanted nothing more than to see everything around me burn. These happy people weren't better than me; they'd had the freedom to go to school, the freedom to eat their fill, and the freedom to enjoy life and to pursue their enjoyments. For them, the prospect of a middle-management job at a good company or in the Administration's bureaucracy wasn't a grand ambition, but a solid career goal. I'm sure if any of them knew my secret ambition, they'd think it terribly small and pedestrian. One day, I swore as Kallen and I arrived at a bus stop, one day I'll collect every bit of backpay and every reimbursement the world, the Holy Britannian Empire, and Being X owe me.
The bus was on time, and as clean and pleasant as the streets it trundled down. The walls and seats were free of graffiti, no haunting smell of urine lingered, and the bus driver smiled and greeted us as Kallen swept her card through the reader twice, paying our fare. I noticed the driver was Eleven, and thus an Honorary Britannian, and I couldn't find it in me to hate him or his choice to collaborate. His eyes were downcast, but his cheeks were full and rounded – clearly, his decision to participate in the new order when given the choice had yielded a degree of material benefit. I can't say that I wouldn't have made the same choice, if it had ever been offered to me, and if I felt for an instant that all the propaganda about Honorary Britannians having a path to successful integration in the Empire was true. I doubted this man or his children would ever rise above being bus drivers or other menial jobs, but that also implied that he would live long enough to have children, a victory in itself.
Kallen and I found our way to seats, and sat quietly as the bus continued along its route. Kallen pulled out her phone, and appeared to be texting somebody, but I didn't want to ask her about it here – speaking in Japanese would have immediately revealed our personal loyalties, and my atrocious English would be almost equally suspicious. Instead, I looked out the window as the Tokyo Settlement went past, and discovered what our conquerors had built atop the land they had stolen from us.
I had never had much interest in architecture, beyond marveling at the sprawling heap that was the Imperial Army's General Headquarters, but even I could see that the entire Concession was full of new construction. Everything was very Western, of course, and I couldn't see any hint of Japanese accents or flavors in any of the immaculate structures. Strangely enough, it didn't look particularly American either, which I would have expected considering the geographic location of the Britannian Homeland. Instead, it felt more like the Gothic style of the Renaissance, crossed with some author's view of a 'city of tomorrow', all expressed in ultra-modern materials. Like most things Britannian, the city that they had built was gaudy, inefficient, and egotistical in the extreme. This was the full expression of the ancient tradition of absolute monarchism, unbridled by even a fig leaf of constitutional government and reliant upon the divine right of kings and naked force. Between the communists and the monarchists, it's hard to decide which is the more illogical and inefficient system of governance.
Eventually, we ended up at a stop in a very nice neighborhood, full of gigantic houses that practically dripped with ostentation. I noticed Kallen slip a bill into the small tip box hanging by the driver's station as we made our way off, which was interesting. I had pegged the Kozuki siblings as being driven into taking up arms against Britannia by a combination of ideological and mercenary factors. While they definitely had beefs against the Britannian racial caste system, they were also using the resistance to install a rival faction into power. Neither motivation explained Kallen's apparent sympathy for Honorary Britannians, though, and I was somewhat surprised by her tenderheartedness. Surely an anti-Britannian zealot would have held collaborators and traitors to the cause in contempt, and a mercenary fighting for their family's glory and power would not care about the well-being of a lowly, honest worker.
As I tried to decipher what Kallen was signalling with this small act, we began to walk down the spacious boulevard, past gated house after gated house. Although, 'house' didn't really encompass the mini-Versailles set back from the road by at least a few hundred meters, each surrounded with gardens and lawns. Pocket-sized or not, they were shockingly huge and luxuriously decadent for being only a half hour away from Shinjuku by public transport.
"Okay, so... Before we get to my family's manor, there's a few things you need to know." Kallen spoke in Japanese, low and fast, as we proceeded. Her face had begun to redden along her cheekbones, but her expression displayed angry resentment rather than any embarrassment. "After my father returned to Japan after the Conquest, he looked up his old family again. My mother," Kallen's usually attractive face twisted in disdain, "was of course all too happy to pick back up again with him. To be a family again."
The redhead sneered at the idea, and I kept silent, nodding along attentively to show I was listening. I knew that Naoto and Kallen had come into contact with their noble father again after a separation during the Conquest, and for some reason their father had picked Kallen to be his heir. Judging by the sheer vitriol in the girl's voice, she had strong, unresolved feelings about the matter.
"Anyway, Naoto was pretty happy to see him again too. They'd been really close, back before he left us, and he'd sent enough money to keep us housed and fed, so I could understand that." Kallen's face relaxed, the sneer falling away and leaving an expression of weary acceptance behind. "I mean, he wasn't as bad as he could've been. I know that he took care of us, gave us money and stuff, but..." She kicked at a trash can as we passed. "He wasn't there, dammit! Naoto had to constantly fight every damned Britannian piece of shit in the neighborhood after Father decided to start paying for our housing again, and somehow Naoto did a better job helping me and Mom out than he did!"
We walked a bit further as Kallen took some deep breaths and tried to calm down. I felt entirely at a loss about what to say to any of this. I'd felt the same way before, when Kallen had been trying to deal with the aftermath of her first kill, but that was something I understood, and something I could help with. At least my mother never left me. I had sometimes wondered, back at the orphanage, what it would have been like to meet my second life's biological parents, assuming Being X hadn't just created my body from thin air and stuffed my soul into it. Would I have had the same feelings of angry betrayal that Kallen had, if I'd ever met the woman who'd abandoned her baby with the nuns?
"I'm pretty sure he wanted to adopt Naoto as his legitimate heir and son, but I guess Naoto just looked too Japanese to pass as a full Britannian." It was interesting that Kallen and Naoto didn't exhibit any sibling rivalry. It sounded like Naoto had done the hard work of keeping Kallen and their mother alive during the initial post-Conquest years, but when the boss had come back, his little sister had gotten the job as official heir and the cushy lifestyle attached. Maybe he was just too interested in fighting, and didn't want the political and social burdens? "He basically gave Naoto whatever he wanted in terms of money and his blessing, and sent him on his way."
Was that when the plan for Lord Stadtfeld's gambit had begun? She didn't mention anything like the father and son working on a plan or a project... Did neither of them actually tell her the plan? That would explain why she didn't understand the implications of her schooling... Or is she just doing her job and maintaining information security? I felt like I was missing some key aspect to the whole plan, and it made me uneasy, but I decided I could consider that later and re-focused on Kallen's continuing briefing on her family.
"Of course, he didn't marry my mother – she's a common Eleven, and she started going a bit crazy after Father abandoned us for years. Definitely not marriage material for a noble. But, he did feel sorry for her, so he graciously gave her a job as a maid." Kallen's words dripped with a level of sarcasm reserved for teenagers, and she clearly didn't understand how thoroughly she'd misunderstood the situation. Her father had given her mother a job where he could easily carry on an affair with her at any given moment, where she had an excuse to be around her daughter all day, and where he could make sure nothing too consequential happened to her. My mother had been a common prostitute, and she'd slept with a bastard of a landlord in exchange for a single small room. It sounded like Kallen's mother had negotiated a far better deal from her client.
"But, being a noble, he had to marry someone, because otherwise he'd look weak. Thing was, nobody really wanted to marry their daughters to him, since he already had an heir, so they wouldn't have a chance to get their hands on the Stadtfeld estate." That made sense to me. The main point of aristocratic marriage was forming alliances, and if no heirs were expected out of the union, the prospect of a multi-generational alliance was unlikely. "So he found a barren old bitch to marry instead. She's sterile, so her family was happy to marry her off to him, which is good and all for him, but she absolutely hates me."
Not particularly surprising. It must be frustrating to be unable to do the sole task you were brought up and trained to perform. "Does she hate you because you're not her child, or does she hate you because of your heritage?" I wondered aloud, mostly to just keep the conversation moving as we walked. I doubted Kallen was interested in rapprochement, but I was somewhat curious about the source of the stepmother's dislike. Was she a simple racist, and thus likely not involved in Lord Stadtfeld's plan? Or was she resentful that the heir to the hidden kingdom he was setting up in the Area 11 Administration wouldn't be her child?
Kallen merely grunted and shrugged. "Dunno. Probably both. She's not exactly a fan of Japanese, but the only non-Britannian servant we've got is my mother. She might just hate her because, well..." She kind of waved at herself, before shrugging again. "It's not really important. What is important is that we get in, get you changed, and get out as fast as possible. I've never..." She started to blush, and sped up slightly for some reason, and I had to rely on my enhanced strength to keep up with her pace. "I've never brought a friend home before, and I don't want her asking who you are or anything like that."
Finally, we were moving back to something I could understand. Tactical objectives and planning were, of course, second nature to me after my acceptable performance at the Imperial War Academy. I was certain I'd be able to throw a plan together to get me to Kallen's room, secure the objective, and escape out the door without being detected.
However, my planning acumen went unused, as Kallen simply greeted the man at the front gate of her manor's property and strode in like she had every right to be there, which I suppose she did, sweeping me along in her wake. As we approached the house, she began to slow down, eventually coming to the door at a sedate and ladylike walk. The doorman bowed as she entered, and didn't so much as raise an eyebrow as I followed her inside. I tried to emulate the dainty, almost mincing gait Kallen adopted as we crossed the foyer, but after nearly tripping myself I simply resumed my typical walk instead, keeping behind her as we climbed up a sprawling flight of stairs and crept down a hallway. The floor was covered with a plush carpet with thick pile, which muffled the sounds of our feet, and we went some distance into the manor before we encountered anybody else.
She was dressed in a traditional Victorian maid's uniform, complete with white apron and long sweeping skirt, but her eyes and facial shape betrayed her Japanese ethnicity. As we approached, she turned and looked at us, and before she bowed I could tell she was Naoto's mother. She had the same nose and cheekbones as her son, and strangely for a Japanese woman, the same blue eyes as both of her children. Beyond her eyes, she looked nothing like her daughter. It's strange that both of her children are redheads when she's a brunette. Is the red hair allele not recessive in this world? Unlike her children, Ms. Kozuki's eyes looked almost blank in their placidity. Her expression reminded me of many of my neighbors in Shinjuku, and I internally revised my estimation of Lord Stadtfeld's actions in regards to his paramour. If he had tried to keep her close to protect her and his daughter, he'd clearly failed; she had the same despairing cast to her features that many Japanese had, the look of people caught in terrible situations without any hope of a better life.
"Oh, Mistress Kallen. Good morning to you. I see you've brought a friend home with you today."
Ms. Kozuki's voice was quiet and deferential, and she bobbed her head as she addressed her daughter. It was heartening to see that, for all the burden on the woman's shoulders, she was still able to act with professionalism, even when in private with only her daughter and her daughter's friend. It's such a pity that more people can't remain professional while on the clock when they've got friends or family hanging around. It was part of the reason I'd never pursued any work friendships in my first or second lives – it was too easy to get distracted from the job at hand if you focused on your social life instead.
Kallen's response was decidely less professional, and entirely unbecoming for a superior speaking to a valued employee, much less a family member.
"Shut up. It's none of your business. We're going to my room." Without any further explanation, Kallen swept on down the hall, leaving her mother behind. The maid didn't seem angry, or even offended – she simply let out a slight sigh, smiled briefly at me, and then returned to scrubbing the windowsill she'd been cleaning. I was tempted to offer a word of solidarity, as one Eleven to another, but instead I straightened my shoulders and followed Kallen. As far as Ms. Kozuki knew, I was a Britannian friend of Kallen's, if a shabbily dressed and unwashed one, and nothing worth particular note. Any expression of sympathy could endanger my cover, and so I moved on.
Plus, the last thing I wanted to do was insert myself into the Stadtfeld family's drama. Nobles walk the path of daggers, and the last thing I needed was to earn the personal displeasure of an aristocrat.
As soon as Kallen closed the door behind us, she returned to her normal speed and darted across the room to a walk in closet, directing me towards the ensuite bathroom with its shower before disappearing inside. Within minutes, I forced myself to step out of the luxuriously hot shower, using the ridiculously soft and plush towel to dry my hair. How long has it been, I wondered to myself, since I was last this clean? I'd occasionally had the opportunity to use one of the small shower cubicles in the communal bathroom in Naoto's apartment building, but if the water pressure high enough for the showers to function the spray was ice cold. Using quality soap was amazing too – the only soap available in Shinjuku was rough and homemade, and using it on my hair always made it feel rough and scratchy afterwards. Using scented shampoo and conditioner was... was a luxury I hadn't known I'd missed.
Leaving the bathroom in my underwear and holding my Shinjuku clothes and how had I not noticed how badly they smelled? Blood, and sweat, and filth... How long have I been wearing them? I found a small pile of clothing accumulating as Kallen shuttled back and forth from the closet, dropping off shorts, jeans, blouses, and t-shirts with each trip. Fortunately, her tastes apparently weren't towards the overly feminine, and the majority of her second hand clothes were free of the frills that most of the Britannian women I'd seen so far seemed to favor. Doubly fortunate, Kallen's appetite for dressing me up had clearly been ruined by her encounter with her mother, and so she helped me sort through her clothes with only a minimum of glee.
After a bit of work, we'd sorted out three outfits acceptable to both of us, and Kallen gave me an old backpack of hers to pack the two extra outfits, my Shinjuku clothes, a discarded jacket, and some of my future grocery purchases in. I managed to dodge all skirts and dresses, and wound up in a pair of grey capri pants and a loose white peasant-style blouse. These admittedly clashed badly with the battered and stained sneakers I wore, but Kallen hadn't retained any of the shoes she'd worn before her pubescent growth had begun. While my new clothes were decidedly baggy on me, hanging off my hips and shoulders, I now looked like a skinny anorexic Britannian adolescent, a step in the right direction.
We left Kallen's room and began retracing our footsteps, heading back towards the door and, assuming Being X didn't screw with me again, groceries, but as Kallen closed the door behind her I heard a raised voice coming from around the bend in the hallway ahead of us. Instantly, I was sure the lady of the house had learned that an intruder had infiltrated her family's home, and began to bitterly regret giving in to Naoto and Kallen when they'd stopped me from bringing my gun.
I crept forward, towards the junction, thanking Lord Stadtfeld for investing in such luxurious carpeting. As I approached the corner, I began to pick out words from the ongoing harangue. "-wrong with you?! Can't you do anything right?! I don't know why we bother to keep you around!"
Thankfully, my initial worst-case assumption was wrong this time. Instead of sounding the alarm about a thief or rebel here to murder her in her bed, the elder Lady Stadtfeld was simply berating a hapless servant. Hopefully, she'd leave the poor fool alone sooner rather than later. I felt Kallen move up behind me, and held up a hand to halt her. There was no need for Lady Stadtfeld to see her and start up a conversation, and if we just waited for her to go away, our objective would be complete.
I peeked out, just slightly to see if the aristocrat was heading our way, which would mean we'd likely have to climb out a second story window to avoid detection. Fortunately, the back of a richly dressed blonde whom I could only assume was Kallen's barren stepmother was turned towards me, alliviating that particular worry. As I started to pull my head back to bunker down and wait for the roving irritation to leave us, I tuned back into her ranting in time to catch "Well, you are just a filthy Eleven – I suppose the blood always outs, eh? The only thing you know how to do is sell your body, you wretched whore!"
Admittedly, I knew I should stay quiet and stick with my mission plan. I knew I should consider the situation rationally, and realize that nothing I did here would improve the situation. I knew that, but... A memory of Mother, wincing from the bruises on her arms and thighs, spoon feeding me broth. A memory of Mother weeping in the other room, the sound mixed with rhythmic grunting that my thin pillow couldn't quite keep out. A memory of Ohgi and Naoto talking when they thought I was asleep, "Just another Eleven whore, beaten to death in the slum. Nobody's going to care, Naoto, especially since she usually worked near the barracks. Probably ran into a crowd of drunk soldiers, you know how that story goes."
Before I knew it, I was halfway down the hall and picking up speed, my hands clasped and raised over my head. The blood hammered in my ears, and I could see the bitch starting to turn at the sound of rushing feet but by then I was already leaping through the air and bringing down a hammerblow at the base of her neck, slamming my full almost a hundred pounds into her spine and knocking her to the floor. She landed face down, head bouncing off the soft carpet, and before I could think about it I followed my training, and guaranteed that she was out of the fight by kicking her in the side of the head. I pulled it slightly, so I didn't break her neck, but I was confident that the target was down.
I looked up from the crumpled woman on the ground, and met the eyes of Ms. Kozuki, stock still with her cleaning rag still in her hands. Behind me, Kallen rushed up, and quietly cursed in Japanese at the sight of her stepmother. For a moment, time seemed to hang still, before I snapped out of... whatever idiocy I'd just experienced, and started trying to fix the situation.
"You two! Get her into her bed, get some ice on her neck to reduce the swelling and pour some of whatever she drinks on her. We need to get her out of sight before anyone else comes up. Move!" Kallen immediately grabbed her stepmother's legs, but Ms. Kozuki didn't move, although her eyes were wide with shock.
"You... You speak Japanese..." Her voice was just as quiet as before, but the deference had been replaced by shock.
With my luck, she'd faint and then Kallen and I would have two bodies to move. Best not to give her any time to think. "Yes, Ms Kozuki, I speak Japanese. I'll tell you more once we're not standing over a body."
Thankfully, the voice of authority worked its magic once more, and soon the Lady Statdfeld was ensconced in her bed, a shot's worth of vodka sprinkled over her discarded clothes. Ms Kozuki assured us that she'd get some ice "for the Mistress's neck" once we left, but was still hanging around, looking from me to Kallen with increasing concern. For a moment, I hoped Kallen would say something, before deciding that I should do the talking. It was my screw-up, and I need to take responsibility for it. What a stupid thing to do...
"Ms Kozuki, I am a friend of your son." A promising start – short, to the point, and establishing my credentials, as if coming in with Kallen hadn't been enough. "Don't worry about anything. You are doing good work – keep it up." Vague compliments aren't as effective as targeted remarks, but everybody likes a bit of flattery. "Keep serving Lord Stadtfeld, and watch Kallen's back. She could be in danger at any time, and you know what Britannians are like." Just keep doing what you're doing, and take care of your daughter in case your employer decided to blame her for this mess. "You too are serving Japan in your own way – listen to your son, and be ready to support him when the time comes. Long live Japan!" Nationalistic propaganda appeals to everybody specifically because it's general, but fosters a sense of exclusivity simultaneously. Plus, what mother doesn't like to hear praise about their children?
Something in my scattergun approach seemed to have hit the mark. Ms. Kozuki's mouth firmed into a determined line, and her eyes filled with resolve. She nodded, and disappeared down the hallway, and I breathed a sigh of relief, and turned to Kallen. She looked flabbergasted, but visibly bit down her first response, instead muttering "We gotta go." before grabbing my hand and pulling me down the hallway after her mother.
As we approached the stairs, Kallen released my hand and resumed her careful, mincing pace. Together, the two of us slowly made our way across the foyer, nodded to the Britannian butler who held the front door opened, and crossed the miniature manor's grounds. As soon as we crossed the threshold of the gate, Kallen hustled me a block down the road, back the way we'd come.
"What the fuck was that about?!" Kallen didn't yell, but instead let out an angry hiss of a whisper. "Are you crazy?!"
"You should have done something yourself." I replied, keeping my tone coolly professional. "It's one thing to maintain your cover, Kallen, but it's another thing to participate in oppression." I turned towards the road and kept walking, feeling Kallen fall into step with me this time. "I saw you give money to that bus driver on the way here – if your cover identity as a Britannian noblewoman doesn't care about Japanese, that was a mistake. Since I can only assume that is not a part of your cover, you must have treated your mother like an Eleven because of your personal animosity towards that woman."
I stopped, and looked at Kallen, catching her eyes. "Kallen, don't you realize she's your most valuable ally in that house? Your stepmother would be only too happy to steal your secrets and sell you and your brother out to the Britannian authorities. Besides, I'm sure she'd be happy to poison your tea someday as well, since you are, after all, just another Eleven in her eyes, correct? None of the other servants can be trusted, especially if your father's new wife had a hand in hiring them." I could tell from the stubbornness in her eyes that I wasn't getting through on that front, and changed tact. "How do you think your father is getting messages and supplies to your brother? Did you really think a man who can survive and thrive in the political waters of Britannia just kept his socially unacceptable former lover around out of the pity of his heart? There's always a reason. No skilled businessman makes an investment without a goal in mind."
That got through. Kallen's eyes widened in shock, just like her mother's, and she took a step back. "You... You think that Father is supporting Naoto's actions? And... And Mom's helping them?!" Either she'd already achieved a masterful level of espionage skills, or Lord Stadtfeld had never bothered to inform his daughter, a key agent, about his plan. What colossal foolishness.
"Clearly." I resumed walking back towards the bus stop, hitching my backpack up on my shoulders. "Did you think he just tripped and fell into a pile of guns and cash? Rebellions, like any endeavor, require seed money. Where else would Naoto get that money, or get military surplus transported across the Pacific? Besides..." I paused, wondering if this might be going a bit over the top, but then pressed on. "Besides, how is her infiltration of a noble's staff to watch over her daughter and assist her son in his actions different from your infiltration of Ashford Academy? We're all playing our roles in a greater plan, Kallen, and we're all making sacrifices for Japan."
After a few steps, I heard Kallen start walking after me, but she didn't say anything. We walked back to the bus stop in silence, and waited for the next bus. Ten quiet minutes later, the bus pulled up and we got on, Kallen absentmindedly swiping her card through the scanner twice to pay our way. After an uncomfortable twenty minute ride, we got off in front of a SamWay grocery store without speaking, though I noticed Kallen drop a sizable bill into the bus driver's tip box as we left.
"I'm sorry." The words were out of my mouth before I knew it, but I just couldn't take the oppressive silence any longer. It felt like a social sword of Damocles was dangling over my neck, and I didn't know how to gracefully resolve the matter. "I forgot about the plan, and I probably added unneeded complications to your home life. I apologize for my hasty overreaction."
Kallen inexplicably blushed, and stuttered out a "N-no...!" before taking a calming breath and continuing. "No, that's not it. I'm... Well, I am kinda upset that you hit that bitch before I got the chance to do it myself! But, I'm not angry... I'm just..." She looked at me, and squinted just a bit as if she were trying to peer through my eyes and into my skull. "Do you really think she's here to help me? She's not just trying to hang on to Father like an idiot?"
I felt my anxiety lift away. Excellent! She's not mad – I won't need to try and find my way back to Shinjuku by myself! "I can't guarantee anything; I'm not a mind reader, nor a liar." I tried to figure out how to phrase what I wanted to say as innocently as possible, considering we were standing on a public sidewalk with lots of people moving around. "Your mother doesn't seem like the kind of woman who'd let herself be pushed around unless it was for a greater cause. Just like you, Kallen – after all, she is your and your brother's mother – she's not helpless, and I doubt she's a fool." If she is your and your brother's mother, she's definitely a romantic, but not a total fool at least.
After that last bit of drama, we finally got to the highlight of my whole day, and my main reason for risking my life by leaving Shinjuku – shopping for groceries. Britannian currency liberated from drug traffickers in hand, I followed Kallen into the SamWay. It was, even more than the rest of my trip, a culture shock. Every shelf was filled with every kind of packaged food and ingredient imaginable, and I could smell delicious fresh bread from the store's bakery, and the rich, greasy scent of rotisserie roasted chicken wafted over me from the nearby lunch counter. Despite all of my scorn for Being X and its claims of godhood, for a moment I thought I had been whisked straight to heaven.
After a heroic exercise of will, I managed to escape the SamWay with my backpack and two sacks of groceries in hand, plus one of the whole chickens that had so tempted me. Chicken aside, I'd been strict with myself, and only purchased goods I knew to be dense in fats and proteins, and could be stored without a refrigerator. I had plenty of beans and nuts, two bags of oranges, several summer sausages, and as many onions and potatoes as I could cram into my backpack. I'd also purchased several large bottles of complex multivitamins, which would hopefully begin to offset some of the damages my earlier deprivation had done to my body. Of course, I'd also broken down and purchased several bars of chocolate and two small tins of coffee and a package of filters. Visha had once shown me how to make an impromptu coffee maker using only a standard Imperial mess kit and a helmet, and I was sure I could replicate the feat, though I doubted it would be half as delicious as her brew had been.
Am I doing the right thing, Visha? For once, thinking about my subordinate didn't make me hurt, and as we boarded the bus back to the stop near the Shinjuku checkpoint I let my mind wander back to her. I remembered how eager she'd been to help me with the paperwork I'd generated to try getting out of creating the 203rd , foiling my plans with an eager smile and helpful hands. I'm sure you'd want me to fight, battle maniac that you were, but should I have tried to cozy up to Lady Stadtfeld instead? Gotten into the Britannians good graces somehow? Idly, I wondered if she would have supported me in my sudden and unprovoked assault, or if she would have been as incredulous as Kallen. Guess I'll never know... Damn the war, damn Being X, and damn me.
Kallen waved goodbye as I passed through the checkpoint. The sergeant on duty had shook her hand again and let me pass through unimpeded, and I waved back as I juggled the grocery bags and the chicken. A few streets down, I found an out of the way corner and changed back into my Shinjuku clothes, hiding the fresh outfit Kallen had given me away in my backpack. It had only been a few hours since I'd last worn it, but somehow the filthy clothes made my skin crawl as I put them back on. Embarrassing! I scoffed at myself as I pulled Ohgi's hoodie back on. Just a few hours of luxury and you've gone soft. Still, it had been nice to see people who didn't look two meals from death at any time, even if they were murderous bastards who'd kill me given half a chance.
I wonder what it would have been like if Being X had left me with my father instead of my mother this time around? I'd never really thought much about my father – as best I knew, he'd been a sailor who's condom had torn one night long ago in Tokyo. I certainly had no clue about his status, his personality, or anything else about the man, except that he'd had blonde hair and blue eyes like me. Still, after getting a brief taste of what it was like to live as Britannian, or at least a half-breed pretending to be a full Britannian, I wondered what my life would have been like. Neither Kallen nor Naoto seemed particularly happy with the Britannian system, since both had taken up arms, but they were also nobles. Maybe the bias against half-breeds in the lower social orders wasn't as bad? That lazy bastard would never do me a favor. Peace was never really in the cards.
Chicken in hand, I left the dismal corner and my weak thoughts of what could have been, and returned to my temporary home. I hoped Naoto would enjoy hearing about how I'd protected his mother's honor more than Kallen had enjoyed watching it happen.