Author's Note:
Warnings:
Disclaimer: Yami no Matsuei belongs to Matsushita Yoko and RiD belongs to Hasbro/Takara. I have no claim to anything except the plot.
Chapter 3: Zetsubou no Shinen
(trans: Thoughts of Hopelessness)
"Scourge-san. . . ."
"Yes, yes. Rollbar will be here shortly. I'm sure you can wait a few moments longer."
"When you told me thirty minutes, Scourge-san. . . ."
"Rollbar will be here when he gets here, human," Mega-Octane grumbled. But even as he spoke, Movor dropped out of the upper atmosphere, transforming as he landed. He saluted crisply, but the subtle signs said he was dissatisfied with being there.
"Movor? Report."
"The information started changing just as he was about to log off," Movor explained. "Crosswise was supposed to have a patrol this morning, but it was cancelled at the last minute. Next scheduled patrol is tomorrow night. I downloaded the rest of the information to this disk."
"Well done, Movor. All right, doctor, you have the information you wanted. . . ."
"Yes, yes, of course, Scourge-san. Though I do hope you weren't planning on them joining us. . . ."
"And why not?" Scourge growled.
"They aren't part of the agreement, Scourge-san."
"Why you little --!"
"Now listen here, you --!"
"Mega-Octane, Movor, that's enough. You're treading a very fine line, Muraki. . . ."
"It was my understanding that you could handle Ultra Magnus by yourself, Scourge-san. Now you want help?"
"Stay here," Scourge commanded as he transformed. "I'll deal with the mercenary."
"Watch your back," Mega-Octane said quietly.
"You needn't worry yourself," Muraki said dismissively. He stepped up to the black tanker's cab, but rather than climbing behind the wheel, he drew out a thin slip of paper. Suspicious by nature, Mega-Octane didn't trust the doctor's actions for one minute. Hundreds of white feathers seemingly appeared out of nowhere to swirl around human and Decepticon alike. Scourge's form flared bright white and then both he and Muraki were gone.
White light flared around him, bleaching his sensors momentarily. When the afterimage cleared, Muraki was standing in front of him, studying their surroundings. He transformed as alert klaxons screamed to life; they were inside the Autobot's secret base.
"How did you. . . ?"
"What a troublesome boy," Muraki murmured. The doctor snapped his fingers and suddenly Scourge felt . . . disjointed. Worse. All of his sensors were snowed over in static so badly he couldn't even see his hand in front of his face. That traitorous meatsack!
"Fascinating,," the human mused. Scourge was surprised to discover that his audio receptors were the one system unaffected by whatever Muraki had done. He tried to speak, to reach out and squash the human, but his sensors were so muddled he couldn't move. Or perhaps he was moving and didn't realize it?
You'll pay for this, Muraki. No one betrays ME!
An ordinary man would have been intimidated by the sheer size of Ultra Magnus, to say nothing of his forceful presence. But then again, Tatsumi Seiichirou was hardly an ordinary man. Anger bubbled in the pit of his stomach for a brief moment before he pushed it aside. He didn't have time for anger or even concern for his partner and the charge they were protecting.
It was foolishness to protect someone marked for death but even greater foolishness to ignore the presence of Muraki's curse. His own shadow magic could likely kill the boy without activating the curse, but until the exact nature of it had been mapped, there was no way to know what would happen then.
"You seem to know this Muraki pretty well," the giant warrior rumbled as they hurried through the corridors of the Autobot base. "Who could be with him?"
"I don't know," he confessed in irritation. "It's not like him to work with anyone."
As they turned the corner, Ultra Magnus suddenly froze. The black robot Tatsumi recognized as Scourge was standing halfway down the corridor, unmoving. Muraki was standing in front of the robot, studying him speculatively. When the expected outburst from his companion didn't come, he frowned up at the white and blue robot. Like the black warrior opposite, Ultra Magnus appeared frozen in place, his optics dimmed to barely glowing gold. Something was very wrong.
"I do not know what you are planning, Muraki, but I will not allow you to trouble my employees any further!"
"Ah, Tatsumi-san, what an unexpected pleasure."
"Spare me your false pleasantries, Muraki, and leave this place at once!"
"Relentless as ever, I see," Muraki replied with a sick grin. "Very well. There's just one thing I need first. . . ."
"Never!" Tatsumi growled, throwing spears of shadow at the man. Muraki teleported away at the last instant, allowing the shadows to slice into Scourge's legs. The robot howled in pain, immediately drawing his sword, but Tatsumi was already teleporting back to the lab. He had been careless and overconfident, his own pride and honor giving Muraki the opening he had needed to escape.
Muraki was waiting for him, leering, as if mocking Tatsumi's own inability to stop him. Watari was standing firmly between Koji and the doctor, one hand on the teen's arm, poised to teleport away at any time.
"You can't have him!" Watari challenged. Muraki just laughed.
"You really think I'm here for that . . . boy?"
In a flutter of white feathers, Muraki reached out to touch the immobile Crosswise's leg. A flare of white light and both the doctor and the Autobot were gone.
"Shimatta! He played us! That bastard!"
"Wha - what happened? Tatsumi-san? Watari-san? Where's Crosswise?" T-AI asked as her hologram flickered to life.
"Gone," Watari fumed, the picture of impotent fury. "Muraki took him. That bastard played us for fools."
"We will find him, Watari," Tatsumi vowed in icy rage. "And when we do, he will pay dearly for his actions. . . ."
Reality snapped back with a surge of Matrix-energy at Scourge's pained yowl. In less than a millisecond, Ultra Magnus noted the absence of either human and proceeded to grab the black Decepticon around the throat, pulling him forward and off-balance. Scourge's sword clattered against the decking sharply, but the Decepticon ignored it to growl wordlessly at his rival.
"You have some nerve, coming here alone."
"This wasn't part of the plan. . . ."
"Being captured? No, I don't suppose it was," Ultra Magnus replied with a smirk.
"Stop pretending like you have the courage to kill me, Mercenary," Scourge sneered from behind his concealing facemask.
"What makes you think I won't?" he snarled in response, squeezing until the metal began to bend.
"Because . . . in your spark . . . you'll always be . . . a weakling Autobot . . . just like all the others. . . ."
"Keep pushing and you'll see just how wrong you are. . . ."
"Magnus!"
The towering Autobot froze in mid-squeeze, then turned his head ever so slightly to glance at the white samurai who had dared to stop him. Alone of all the Autobots, only Prowl could maintain such a look of cool expectation in the face of Ultra Magnus's obvious fury. The placid self-assurance of one who knew not to fear that rage.
"What do you want?"
"His confession of every crime, every sin, but I can't very well have that if you kill him first."
"As if I would ever tell you anything!" the Decepticon hissed.
"You will," Prowl threatened, "or we'll have T-AI run through every line of code in your core processor!"
"You wouldn't dare," Scourge snapped back. "You Autobots are too noble to sink that low."
"Your friend just played us all for fools and kidnapped Crosswise in the process. You have no idea just how far I will go. . . ."
"That bastard! When I get my hands on that treacherous little meatsack. . . !"
"Help us," Prowl said, his tone suddenly holding a hint of promise, "and you have more word, you'll be free to have that chance."
Even without Bon's empathic abilities, Watari could tell that the robots were upset. Furious would likely be a better word for it Angry growls, guttural hisses, vicious clicks, and sharp gestures all belied the emotion hidden by the expressionless faces of Optimus Prime, Hot Shot, and another blue and white Autobot he hadn't met before as the three argued in what he could only assume was their native language. They were discussing something quite heatedly, but it was impossible for him to tell who was winning the argument. If indeed anyone was winning at all. From what little he could tell of their body language, none of the three looked to be particularly happy with their respective positions.
"They're still at it?" Tatsumi murmured with a hint of disgust. "How can you work with them like that?"
"You might be surprised. Anything from the Gushoshin?"
"Tsuzuki-san and Kurosaki-kun are going to Kyoto to find out what, if anything, Mibu-san might know of these happenings. In the mean time, you are to continue researching Onishi-kun's curse. The curse is our priority; recovering Crosswise-san is their problem."
"And you help no one without some benefit to yourself, yes, I know," Watari mused, tinkering with another transformation filter. Despite what he had told Tatsumi, he had accomplished little while his partner had returned to Meifu. He made no claim to understand why the robots insisted on meeting and arguing within the lab's confines, but the anger was disruptive even without an understanding of the words and he feared he was no closer to unraveling the curse than he had been half an hour earlier.
"And the curse? What progress with that, Watari-san?"
"There you go with your formalities again," he said with a quiet sigh. "It would help if I had some sort of comparative reference, but you know how secretive Bon is about his own curse. At least Koji is still able to sleep. . . ."
"You'll find the answer," Tatsumi replied quietly, momentarily squeezing his shoulder in silent support and apology before leaving him to his work once more. Watari had to admit, he was impressed with the teen's ability to sleep through his friends' arguing. Then again, he was still laying in the cradle of the scanner, surrounded by equipment that was likely muting the sounds of the voices, if not blocking them out entirely.
When yet another filter failed to coax the elusive curse out of Koji's aura, Watari thumped his fists against the tabletop. He enjoyed a challenge, but this was becoming maddening. Some vital key was missing, he just needed to find it. What he really needed was a second pair of eyes. T-AI's speed made processing the filters wonderfully swift, far more so than if he was working with his own equipment, but she had no idea what she was processing. Unable to help him identify the traces he was seeking, she was also unable to offer any suggestion on how to proceed. It was in that capacity that he most missed the assistance of the Gushoshin.
"Excuse me . . . Watari-san?"
An orange and black robot, visored and obviously troubled, had paused to stand beside the terminal Crosswise had adapted for Watari's use. With the appearance of yet another Autobot he hadn't previously met, Watari had to wonder how many of them there were on Earth. And why he'd not heard of them in the human news, if they had been causing as much trouble as Tatsumi had led him to believe. Surely a war between two factions of aliens, particularly alien robots, would have garnered some attention. . . .
"Can I help you. . . ?" he asked, offering the robot a warm smile in spite of his growing exhaustion.
"Ah, my name's Daytonus. If they knew I was even thinking about this, they'd probably have my skid, but. . . . You know a lot of magic, right Watari-san?"
"Ah, well, that depends on what you mean. Theory, yes, and how different magics work. Mechanics, basically. But I don't know nearly as much fuda as Tsuzuki-san."
"But you could tell me what that spawn of the devil did to Cross and how far his magic could have taken him from here, right?"
"Anou . . . maybe to the first. As for the second . . . that this base exists on another plane of reality works against us. The distance becomes meaningless as there is no real distance between this place and any point on Earth. Muraki has previously restricted himself to Japan, but he could as easily go anywere in the world."
"Then . . . if I could get us close enough, could you counter whatever he's doing?"
"I . . . don't think so. Tsuzuki might know . . . if we could figure out what Muraki is doing. . . ."
"But?"
"But Crosswise is not the concern of the Shokan Division," Tatsumi supplied, stepping out of the shadows with a steaming mug of coffee. Hazelnut from the aroma, which only made Watari all the more aware of how long he had been awake already.
"So that's it? You don't care that it's your fault he's even been captured, as long as you get the human?"
"We are not a charity," Tatsumi replied coldly, making a minor adjustment to his glasses to keep from meeting the Autobot's visored gaze. Watari resisted the urge to smack his partner; he knew the man was not nearly as emotionless as he pretended, but the notion of working for nothing when the department was already so strapped for cash was not something the prim secretary of Enmacho could condone. Though, if Tatsumi did not mean for them to assist with Crosswise's rescue, it begged the question of why he had sent Tsuzuki and Hisoka to Kyoto in the first place.
"I'm not looking for charity, shinigami of Enmacho. Just some common decency and responsibility."
Watari watched in frustrated irritation as the orange and black Autobot joined the knot of his fellows at the other end of the lab. Whatever he was saying, and he felt confident he could make a fairly accurate guess, it wasn't being received very well by the other three, particularly Hot Shot.
"Seiichirou, if this is your way of getting back at them for all the trouble they've caused you the last couple of years, I'd say you've more than done it. It's dangerous, this game you play, to rouse them to such anger when you mean to help them in the end anyway."
"You presume too much . . . Yutaka."
He didn't like the pause before his name - it suggested they were going to be discussing this exchange in detail later. And likely in loud voices. Fighting with Tatsumi was a regular part of his life, but it didn't mean he enjoyed it. Particularly when it was as pointless as this.
A sudden increase in the discordant sounds of arguing Autobots drew Watari's attention back to the group at the other end of the room. Yet another robot of a size of the others save Optimus, who towered over the rest, had joined the argument, a vibrant yellow Autobot with an eagle pictogram on his chest. The discussion itself seemed to have shifted to be largely between Hot Shot, Daytonus, and this new robot. When the blue and white Autobot caught him watching, he broke away from the knot to walk over to him. Now that he was in motion, Watari could tell he was a seasoned warrior, stealthy and economical of movement inspite of the strange pinging gait from feet that looked incapable of supporting the robot's considerable weight.
"You shinigami are really something else, you know that?"
Between the glowing blue visor and the stark white faceplate, it was impossible for Watari to read much emotion off of the Autobot before him. Still, the anger in his voice was unmistakable.
"That sounds distinctly like an invitation to leave . . . wouldn't you agree, Watari-san?"
"You human gods . . . waltz into a place, get a 'bot kidnapped, rile up his partner, and then just walk away. . . ."
"If there's something you want. . . ."
"Don't even try that with me," the robot snarled, light glinting off his armor as he leaned closer to Tatsumi. "Daytonus did ask, and you brushed him off. If you're so serious about leaving the living to get on with their own problems, get the smeg out of here!"
Watari watched the shadows quiver a moment before a black snake of darkness slithered into the cradle of the scanner where Koji was sleeping. So much for taking advantage of superior computing power, he thought sourly. Offering a silent prayer that some force would intervene, he turned back to the terminal, preparing to transfer the data he had managed to collect to some portable form.
"That's not going to work," T-AI's voice chirped from behind him, startling him with her sudden appearance.
"What's not going to work?" he asked, his hand hovering over the 'burn disk' control.
"That. Unless I have a disk from your system, I can't gaurentee that the burn will be compatible."
"It's not like we run some exotic operating system, T-AI-chan. I only just coaxed a Linux machine out of Tatsumi last month, the miser. The rest of the department is stuck with Win98."
"Hmm . . . well, I'm not familiar with the Linux software protocols for this sort of analysis. I could translate the data into the Windows-compatible format, but you'd lose a lot of information. Almost be better to just restart the whole process with your own equipment."
"Except that I need the baseline scan in a mutable form so I can apply the filters for comparative analysis. Otherwise I might as well try finding a single grain of rice in a sandpit. And don't look at me like that, Tatsumi. It's not my fault my equipment is older than theirs."
"Are you now telling me you can't do this analysis in your own lab?"
"If Bon were willing to let me study his own curse - and we both know he won't - I might be able to circumvent the curse in a reasonable timeframe. Otherwise . . . without T-AI-chan's help, it could be months. She can process a transform on both scans simultaneously in two minutes; it takes my computer half an hour for each scan. So . . . can I do it on my own? Yes. Would it be practical? Well, I'll leave that to you to decide."
Tatsumi's eyes narrowed and Watari knew he had succeeded in adding another item to their argument agenda. Rescuing the coffee mug from the kagetsukai's grasp before the man could shatter it, he waited for his partner's verdict, even though he already knew what it would be. Time was money and Tatsumi was not one to waste either.
"Very well. I will be sure Tsuzuki-san and Kurosaki-kun join you when they are done in Kyoto."
The shadows quavered again momentarily and then the frigid master of the Shokan Division was gone once more. Letting out a relieved sigh, Watari then turned to T-AI and smiled.
"Thank you, T-AI-chan. You've been such a help already. . . ."
"It's just too bad I can't be a real help to him," the hologirl sighed, looking forlorn as she gazed at the sleeping teen. A strange reaction for a computer, but then T-AI was an altogether unusual computer. In light of everything else, Watari was not about to dismiss the possibility of a sentient computer having emotions.
"Fate works in strange ways," he said quietly, sipping the coffee. It had gotten tepid while Tatsumi had been holding it, but it still possessed enough caffeine to jumpstart his awareness. A poor substitute for a nap, but it would have to do.
"Mm, yes, that it does. Will you really do nothing to help us rescue Crosswise?"
"Oh no. But you might get billed later," he replied, winking at the hologirl.
"Billed?"
"For labor and manpower. Tatsumi rarely does anything for free. It's a circular argument, but . . . if I hadn't stayed here with the boy, as I understand it, Crosswise wouldn't have been captured. And while your power is making this hunt much faster than it would have been otherwise, the truth is, he probably should have ended things hours ago."
"I still don't think I understand . . . but I'm not sure I want to either."
"No, you probably don't. . . ."
Tsuzuki stood across the street from the Ko Kaku Rou with Hisoka, neither of them feeling particularly eager to approach the darkened doorstep. Only five in the morning, far too early for new customers to arrive, too late for any from the night before to yet remain. Tsuzuki had never actually seen the building before and it had been five years since Hisoka's duel with the owner, a duel that had allowed his young partner to save his life.
That was a long time ago, he told himself sternly. Things are different now. We're just following a lead. . . .
"Well . . . do we knock or just let ourselves in?" Hisoka asked quietly, trying not to fidget.
"We're not here for a client; we knock."
Even with such a decisive statement, Tsuzuki didn't feel particularly eager to confront the man who had tried to kill his partner. And that was who they were there to see. Mibu Oriya, owner of the Ko Kaku Rou and companion of Muraki Kazutaka. It was Hisoka who made the first move, hurrying across the rain-dampened street to rap his knuckles against the front door. Tsuzuki couldn't help but wonder if anyone would be able to hear the thin sound, surprised to find someone at the door almost immediately.
"We're closed," a stern-faced man said firmly. He would have closed the door on them had Hisoka not reached out to grab the door with one hand, waving a card of some sort with the other.
"We need to see the owner."
"At this hour? Are you out of your mind?"
"It won't take long, Shinji-kun," Hisoka said with surprising calm. "It's a matter of some urgency. . . ."
The doorman snorted, but opened the door for them, snatching the card out of Hisoka's hand as he led them through the empty restaurant and into the central garden yard. The man said nothing and Tsuzuki couldn't help but wonder not only how Hisoka knew what to do, but how he had known the man's name. And what had been on that card. But his partner was still watching their escort as he walked further down the passageway, presumably to rouse their sleeping host. Hisoka nodded to himself as the man disappeared behind the colorful leaves of a sugar maple.
"Anou . . . Hisoka . . . what was that card?" he asked quietly, his curiosity finally getting the better of him.
"Something Mibu-san gave me, a long time ago," his partner whispered in response, emerald eyes unfocused as his gaze appeared to drift across the yard, from the still waters of a small pond, down the graveled walk, and over to the rain chime, still glistening with water. His curiosity was far from satisfied, but Tsuzuki could tell that pressing Hisoka would get him no where.
"Tell me, bouya, what could be so urgent as to bring you to my door at such an uncivilized hour?"
"Can't you guess?" Hisoka muttered as he turned towards their host, but his usual venom was strangely absent.
"And with the very man who possessed Kazutaka's mind for so many years," the other man sighed, shaking his head in disapproval. Tsuzuki bristled at the implications, forcing himself to at least appear calm. He wouldn't give this man the pleasure of his anger.
"He is my partner. . . ."
"When I saw this," Mibu said, gesturing with a business card of some sort, "I confess to having hoped that this was not a business call, Hisoka. But if you're looking for Kazutaka, I'm afraid you've wasted your time. He hasn't been here in over a year."
"You expect us to just believe that?!" Tsuzuki demanded.
"You will believe what you will, of course, Tsuzuki-san, but your partner knows I am not lying."
"Mibu-san . . . did he ever mention anything about Autobots or Cybertrons? Or alien technology, perhaps?"
"There was a brief time when I thought his search was over . . . but you never came. And I was left to wonder what had happened. No, Bon. Like he did so many times before, he simply stopped coming."
"Did he ever say why?"
"He was hunting something further north, with no time for me anymore. And then with the wedding . . .," their host replied, genuine sadness coloring his expression momentarily as his voice trailed briefly into silence. "Something captured his attention, these aliens you mentioned perhaps. Perhaps not. You know how I disliked inquiring into his affairs, bouya."
"Hai," Hisoka replied, nodding in resignation. "We had to ask."
"Of course. I only wish I had something more to offer," he said demurely, extending the business card to Hisoka. "He is right about one thing, though; Time is a cruel master."
Hisoka snorted but said nothing as he accepted the card, slipping it into his wallet without a word. Tsuzuki could feel a hundred questions dancing around his thoughts, curiosity growing steadily. Hisoka had told him about that night, five years past, and the duel with Mibu-san, but it seemed there had been other meetings between the two as well of which Tsuzuki had known nothing.
"Did he take the blonde? This is his area, is it not?"
"No . . . no, Watari-san is fine. This is . . . a private matter."
"The aliens you mentioned . . . Autobots. They are involved in this? Hmm . . . watch yourself then, bouya. Alien motives are not to be trusted."
"For all their power, they cannot hurt me, Mibu-san. Thank you for your time. Give my regards to Seiya."
Questions threatening to overwhelm him, Tsuzuki silently followed his partner out of the Ko Kaku Rou and back to Meifu. He wanted to talk to Hisoka, have his partner explain what he had just witnessed, but Tatsumi was waiting for them with orders to join Watari in Chijou.
"Tsuzuki! Bon! Good, I was feeling a little outnumbered. What news from Kyoto?"
"Mibu-san had nothing to offer," Hisoka sighed, rubbing his temple absently. "Have things gotten worse lately?"
"Ah, well . . . that Decepticon, Scourge, doesn't know anything either. There seems to be some, ahem, difference of opinion on what they should do next, particularly where the Decepticon is concerned. And whether we should even be involved at all."
"Why are we involved? Alien disputes aren't exactly in our jurisdiction, even if Muraki is at the root of all this."
"Watari-san, the next transform is complete. I wish I knew what it was you were looking for, though."
"Ah, thank you T-AI-chan. I'll take a look in a second. As for why we're involved at all . . . Tsuzuki, Daytonus would like to talk to you, although it would seem his superiors would prefer he didn't."
It wasn't exactly an answer, but Watari had already turned to pour over the latest results of whatever he was doing with the computer and the holographic girl hovering at his side. The huge room hummed with equipment and technology far above anything Tsuzuki could even hope to understand, a gleaming expanse of silver-grey metal interrupted by the black panels of computer screens and blinking lights in an assortment of colors. From where he was standing, he couldn't see anyone else in the room, besides themselves. Which meant Daytonus, whoever that was, was somewhere else in . . . Tsuzuki stopped short as he realized he didn't even know where they were.
"Here! I'm here!" a stocky orange and black robot declared as he ran into the room. "Tsuzuki-san? Will you help me?"
"Help you with what?"
"Finding my partner, Crosswise. If I can take you to him, will you help me overcome whatever that Muraki person is doing to him?"
"How will you ever find him?" Hisoka asked skeptically.
"I have my ways. But that Muraki . . . whatever he wants with Cross, he can neutralize an Autobot's sensors, impacting our systems so badly we're lost without any clear idea of where or even when we are. That's why I need your help, Tsuzuki-san. Please . . . will you help me?"
"I'll do anything I can," he vowed quietly. Maybe Muraki's quest for the Autobot Crosswise had nothing to do with him, but Tsuzuki seriously doubted it. He wasn't about to allow yet another innocent to suffer because of his powers, not if he could help it.
Crosswise was lost in a world without sensation, every sensor array defaulting in a field of static snow. No sense of direction, no way of gleaning any real information about his situation. It was a helplessness beyond anything he had ever felt before, a bitter weakness that gave hopelessness fertile ground. He didn't even know what had happened. One second he had been asking Watari about the intruder and the next . . . this hell of nothingness. Crosswise could only assume that whoever was responsible - and he suspected that someone was their intruder, Muraki Kazutaka - had taken him away somewhere, otherwise he wouldn't still be in this situation.
All right, Cross, stay calm. Panic won't get us anywhere, he told himself sternly. But whatever Muraki had done to him, if it was indeed Muraki, it was impacting every system. He couldn't even use his own body rhythms to measure time, an inherently dangerous situation.
No sensors, no mobility, no communications. So just what's keeping me online?
Perversely enough, the answer was his own mental activity. And though he was apprehensive about shutting down in such uncertain circumstances, stasis would be far safer than remaining active in hostile conditions. Snowed over in static definitely qualified as hostile conditions.
Find me quickly, Day. . . .