Beholding the Daughters of the Firmament
"So, what's next?"
She was not comfortable with this situation, in fact, she could not have imagined a scenario in which she would have been comfortable with the situation, seated around the laminated table in a chain café, a cup of camomile tea gradually losing its warmth in the white ceramic before her.
She lifted her head, regarding the two men on the opposite side of the table, Oogami Ryo, brash and loud, his long coat draped over the back of his chair, his expression bullish.
She squirmed beneath his gaze. Meiou Setsuna was especially displeased with this type of man. It wasn't that she considered such a man as Oogami clearly was to be inherently at fault, but she found communicating with them difficult. In every instance, such men seemed to have reached their 30s through a combination of good luck and bloody-mindedness alone, and she was never sure how whether to admire that or be affrighted by it. There was little consideration for alternatives from such a man, and she found this sort of conversation to be excruciating in its unfolding.
"I don't know," she admitted.
The recent confrontation, the sight of the invaders as they had tested another of their experiments—Porcupine World, they called it, a robot powered by a gear that bestowed upon it the specific attributes of a planet populated almost exclusively by porcupines—and the interference of the four children in their teddy-bear skins had unnerved Setsuna, as absurd as it all seemed.
She turned her attention to the older man sitting next to Oogami, his carefully crafted quiff of hair, his linen jacket. Setsuna knew little of pop music, she knew little of the culture of Earth outside of the realm of peace over which King Endymion and Neo-Queene Serenity reigned, but to her eyes, the older man carried with him something of the ageing pop star; the manner in which he dressed, the linen jacket, the flannel shirt, the white Converse baseball boots, there was something of it that suggested a man who had been popular in prior decades, and now sternly resisted the apparent change required to be a part of the modern tapestry of pop culture.
Amamiya Yusuke, she remembered his name from their confrontation in the hospital; Oogami's mentor.
"We need a plan," he said, "it's pointless if we all keep coming at this from different angles."
She saw instantly what he was doing, his attempts to take control of the situation, and whilst that might have been fine for Oogami, it certainly wasn't for her. She knew this type of man, the kind of man who grew restless unless he was doing something that could occupy his mind, something he considered productive. She considered it a sign of age, a deficiency in older men, something inside of them would not allow them to rest, to just be quiet and think; something that always pushed them forward.
Momentarily, she regretted the absence of her own colleagues, of the warmth of those she strove to protect.
She shook her head, bringing herself back to the present.
"There is no need for a plan. We haven't even agreed to work together."
Oogami eyed her with a look of incredulity.
"Missy, I don't know if you noticed, but out there—"
"Stop calling me that," she said with a fierce frown.
"Look," Amamiya interjected, again seeking to take control of the direction of the conversation, "all of this can wait, we've got a common cause, right? It benefits us to work together."
She leant back in her chair, still frowning. This she could not argue with, but she was unhappy with the situation, unhappy that she kept running into the pair of them—unhappier than she was in regards to the appearance of the four children that had stood in her way before Porcupine World, if she was honest.
Oogami looked across at his mentor and then over to Setsuna, and, deciding seemingly that placation was the best policy, he leant forward over his glass of oolong tea, and said:
"A friend of mine has identified a signal in Hakone, something broadcasting, something that might give us some better understanding of what we're up against."
She knew that she was expected to ask about this signal, about what it could mean, but instead she said:
"Who's your friend?"
Oogami looked flustered, leaning back in his chair, one arm dangling behind him.
"Just a friend."
She raised an eyebrow.
"You trust him?"
"Listen, Daishi—" He stopped, realising he'd almost given the game away. "You wouldn't know him."
It didn't matter, she thought. This wasn't about knowing or not knowing, it was about trying to maintain the upper hand.
"What are you going to do about this signal?"
Oogami looked away, and Setsuna guessed he'd probably be terrible at playing poker.
"I thought I'd go down there and take a look."
Her senses flared in warning and she suddenly became aware of another man, a boy really, standing at the table, having appeared seeming out of nowhere.
"Oh, a road trip? How quaint."
Both Oogami and Amamiya looked up in alarm as the boy scraped a chair over to the table and sat down, his long, flowing purple coat absolutely unfamiliar in style to anything Setsuna had seen before.
"Please don't get up on my account."
He smiled sweetly at the two older men, and she noted his painted nails, each hand decorated in a different colour, and the plastic cup in his right hand with its green straw and deep red liquid, something strawberry flavoured, she imagined.
"So, a road trip, then? You're off to Hakone. That sounds nice."
She observed both men across from her, Oogami barely able to contain his fury.
"You," he growled, his voice low and full of warning.
The boy did not smile in return.
"Me."
Sharply, he turned, casting a critical eye over Setsuna.
"And you I don't recognise. What do you do?"
"I'm a school nurse," she said, although it was only part of the truth.
He narrowed his eyes.
"But not just a nurse, I take it?"
Oogami leant forward again, dangerously close to the young man's face.
"You don't need to worry about the little missy here, she can look after herself."
The boy turned to look at Oogami.
"Is that so?" he asked, failing to disguise his disbelief.
"That's so," Oogami snapped.
"Why are you?" Setsuna asked, cutting through whatever contest was stirring between this 30-odd-year-old man and a boy whom she guessed was only just in his 20s.
Across the table, before the boy could answer, Amamiya's voice cut through the air, bristling with clear antagonism.
"He's the enemy."
Understanding dawned.
"The Tojitendo Dynasty."
All eyes were on her as she said the words, but it was the boy who was first to speak.
"How do you know that name?"
She said nothing, looking at him coldly, gently lifting her knees, feeling her handbag on the shelf beneath the table, preparing to reach for her Lip Rod.
"I don't suppose it matters," the boy said, and then he pushed the chair out, the sound of the wood screeching again upon the floor drawing attention from the other patrons of the café. "This world is already captive; you're just rats in a cage now. Go about your scheming, see what good it will do you."
He turned to look down at Oogami, his lips trembling in a contemptuous smile.
"I guess I'll see you in Hakone."
Placing the straw between his lips, he turned, the hem of his coat swaying about his ankles as he walked away.
Oogami put his hand down firmly on the table, and again leaned across to glower at Setsuna.
"Now you get why we need to work together, missy?" he demanded.
She didn't answer, but she was beginning to think that perhaps he had a point.
Before her, her camomile tea slowly cooled.