A/N: I wanted to also give this one a fancy crime name, but it turns out the name for the crime of eavesdropping is just … eavesdropping.
2036
Chapter 4: Eavesdropping
The week that followed the warehouse meeting felt like ten years. Haruko managed a way to drill a small hole in the corner of the wall of the hotel's largest conference room so that she could listen in on the conversation between the different ambassadors. It wasn't quite invisible, only difficult to discern. Hopefully that would be enough.
That was all Haruko was putting her life on, now—hopefully.
She hadn't reported Michika and Aoi to the SLA. It didn't seem worth the risk of them not believing her and having her killed. And, although, she wasn't usually afraid of the SLA, something about the two resistance fighters struck a chord with her heart. Especially Aoi.
The ambassadors arrived early that morning, jet-lagged and angry. They were the kind of guests that insisted the manager check them in and show them to their rooms. Haruko did this with a smile, repeating Oba-chan's words about positivity like a mantra.
Then, it came time for the meeting, so Haruko crouched down in the dark that would be her space for the next three hours, or longer, depending on if the meeting ran late.
For a long time, the different ambassadors introduced themselves and traded jokes. Wasn't their situation hilarious? Ambassadors to a criminal? Didn't they all remember when Kira was just a serial killer?
Haruko dug her nails into her palm at that last one. If she was still working for the SLA, she would have reported them in a heartbeat. Well, she was still working for the SLA, technically, so she might report them anyway.
Then, they turned to the topic at hand.
"So, what are we going to do to actually appease him?" one of them, a tall man with thin bones and thin glasses said.
"Haven't you heard?" one of the women asked. She was invisible to Haruko, except for the edge of her cascading brownish red hair. "Kira's gone bonkers. Completely lost it."
"Lost it?" one of them scoffed. "You're talking about a man who insists we refer to him as God." He paused. "In all of our official communications—God has done this, God has done that, so-and-so has been struck down by the wrath of God."
"I heard about it, too," a quieter, mousy woman said.
"He's obsessed," the brunette woman said, "with this one girl."
"Oh, come on," another one said. He was taller, with barely any hair left, except for little scraps at the edge of his scalp. "He could have any girl he likes. He's already married a few times, isn't he?"
"Yeah," one of the men said. "A couple of times over. Can't remember the exact number."
"Seven," the mousy woman said. "Four wives, three husbands."
Everyone at the table nodded.
"This is a different kind of obsession, though," the brunette said. "It's not sexual. At least, I don't think so. I hope not. The girl's young enough to be his daughter."
"And how do you know all of this?" the thin man asked.
"I was just in his compound," the brunette said. "Went to the baby shower for one of his kids. He had a whole wall of pictures of her in his office and keeping records on her every movement."
"So, we can't find this girl," one of the men said. "And present her as some kind of trophy. He already knows who she is."
"No," the mousy woman said. "I think it would be best to marry someone to him. One of our people. It's a guaranteed in."
"That's what the United States did," the tall man said. "Way back when. I don't know if it gave them access."
"It did," The brown-haired woman said. "I used to deal with them a lot. They could still communicate with their woman, and she could communicate with him."
"Who would do such a thing?" the mostly-bald man asked.
"I have a niece," the thin man said. "She loves attention and the spotlight. And money and glamor. And she works in international politics."
"How long could we give her to think about it?" the mousy woman asked.
"And him," the brunette woman added. "He'll need time to think about it, too."
They all nodded.
"She's here," he said. "Staying in this hotel, with us. I thought we might want something like this …"
"Like what?" the tall man asked.
"Like marriage," he said. "I already asked her, kind of. And she liked the idea, at least."
"So, is that our plan?" The brunette woman said.
Everyone nodded.
"Altar diplomacy," one of the men scoffed. "How barbaric."
Haruko gritted her teeth and leaned her head against the wall. She couldn't leave until they were done, or they were likely to hear her. Somehow, though, she gotten the feeling that was all she needed.
And, as soon as the meeting was over, Haruko checked the records. Sure enough, one of the rooms the diplomats had reserved was for a single, young girl.
Luckily, as hotel manager, Haruko had all of the keys.
But first, she had to consult Aoi and Michika. She put the piece of paper where their drop point was and found herself counting the days until they met again.
They met back up at the warehouse and discussed their plan. Michika wanted Haruko to go by herself, since she worked at the hotel and everything, but Haruko didn't think that she could actually communicate what they wanted to the young wife-to-be. Aoi volunteered to join her. Michika was against it, but, Haruko reasoned, they were also both young women. And Aoi really believed in what they were doing. It would be easier for someone like that to convince someone else.
Privately, Haruko was also more excited to spend time with the fiery resistance girl.
And so, late at night, Aoi joined Haruko in one of the hotel's beige hallways. It was odd to see her here, a clear part of her new life, in the halls that she'd spent so much time in.
Haruko leaned forward and unlocked the door with a click. They heard a gasp from the inside. Aoi went in first.
The lights were off, so Haruko turned them on.
"Don't panic," Aoi whispered to her.
The wife-to-be was in bed, wearing some kind of white nightgown. Aoi stood over her, holding some of the white sheets over her mouth.
Haruko checked behind all the photo frames and on the bottom side of the furniture. The room wasn't bugged, at least not where the bugs were usually placed. She nodded at Aoi, and Aoi nodded back.
"We're the resistance," Aoi said, taking the sheet of the girl's mouth.
The girl coughed. "Really," she said. "And what do you want to do with me?"
"I think you know," Haruko said.
Aoi added: "We certainly know about your uncle's plan to marry you to Kira."
She nodded furiously.
"Do you want to?" Haruko asked. In another life, she figured, she would be in the girl's position. It would be an easy way to the power and prestige she wanted so badly. But, at the same time, being married to Kira would be a steep cost. And Haruko wanted that power all on her own, without anyone else getting in the way.
The girl shrugged. "It's better than nothing." She paused. "You have to do something, to survive in this world. A little bit of sex now and then …"
"Yeah," Aoi said, sitting down on the bed next to her. "We figured."
"I don't love him," she said.
"No one does," Aoi said. "That's why we're trying to get rid of him."
"Get rid of …" the girl trailed off. "Kira? Is that possible?"
"He's just a man," Aoi said. "Or he was, at some point. And we can reduce him back to that again." Aoi smiled, and Haruko felt her heart flutter. "And, you know, it would be nice to live in a world where you don't have to do stuff like this."
"I don't know," the girl said. "You'll always have to do something, to survive."
"But something else," Haruko said. "Something better."
"There will always be powerful men we have to answer to," the girl said.
"But not ones that can kill us at the drop of a hat," Aoi said. She was breathing quickly, bouncing up an down on the bed. "Can you imagine that? Being able to say what you want, go where you want, at the time you want to go—without fear of getting killed in the middle of the night?"
"Before Kira, there were criminals," she said. "They would stop me—" she made eye contact with Haruko and Aoi. "Us—from going anywhere—everywhere anyway."
Aoi nodded. "But they were something we could fight." She paused. "With martial arts—pepper spray—the police—they were something we could deal with. But a man," she paused again. "A man, who lives in a compound up on a hill—a man like a force of nature, who insists we call him one—we can't."
"So you admit he's like God," the girl said. "And still you want to fight him." She nodded at Haruko. "What do you think of all this, hotel manager?"
Haruko perked up and looked at her. "Just because he's like God doesn't mean he is God."
The girl nodded. "But do you think God would have sent down someone like Kira if we didn't need some punishing, as a human race?"
The different models on the portraits, the holes in the security cameras, the words To Serve and Protect written on the wall of the SLA's office—they were all showing the limits of Kira's power. "I don't think he was sent by God," Haruko said. The servants lying dead, the watchtowers, her mother braiding her hair. "I should know." She said. "I used to live in his house."
The girl shook her head and rubbed her eyes. "What do you guys want me to do, anyway?"
"Get the plans for the compound," Aoi said. "Give them to us. We'll take care of the rest."
The girl sighed. "I will need a position in whatever government you set up."
Haruko nodded. "You're already in with the right people."
"OK," the girl said. "Fine, alright, you've got your girl." She sighed. "Can you let me back to bed now?"
"Don't tell anyone we had this meeting," Haruko said. "Really."
The girl nodded her sleepy head. "OK," she said.
"We can kill you," Aoi said. "And we will if—"
"I get the point," the girl said. "You're acting like our lives aren't being threatened all the time, every day, for as long as we live."
"It won't be as long as we live," Aoi said. "If we can do anything about it."