August 6, 2016
The tsuya of one of the Fukushin was always a private affair. While the rest of the country renewed their vow for peace, the Kaijin Fukushin gathered at a the Sengaku-ji Temple and erected black curtains marked with a small kamon; a white circle with a red 心 character. The curtains not only maintained privacy, but also prevented anyone from wondering "why were a bunch of teenagers holding a wake instead of going to school?" and being a headache.
Among the seventeen brothers and sisters clad in somber black, one wore a red silk sash about her neck, hanging down in two lengths.
Fumiko Ichiwa, who's brown hair was lighter than most, had attempted to bawl her eyes out the nights prior to this, as she did not want to cry during her brother's funeral. After all, she was supposed to take his place, albeit temporarily, and could not be seen as weak.
Unfortunately, all the night-crying was for naught.
She felt the water in her eyes threatening to break. She shut her eyes. She shuddered.
No, stay strong! Stay strong! Stay strong!
A gentle hand found her shoulder.
"Ichiwa-sama," it was Shigeo, her brother's close friend, "you should sit down."
"No," she said as clearly as possible, "I won't."
"Fumiko-san, you're shaking, you need to sit down."
"I need to stand."
"Fumiko." This time it was her good friend, Himari Suzuki. Her legs felt weak. "Please Fumi," her friend urged, "sit down." But she needed to stand. She sighed. She couldn't.
Fumiko reluctantly took a seat near the front, with Shigeo and Himari sitting down on either side of her, Himari rubbing her shoulder in concern. Fumiko looked up at the portrait of her brother enshrined at the front of the room.
Brother, help me, I can't!
She began to weep. There's no way she could do this. They needed someone else.
That evening, Fumiko, Shigeo (full name: Shigeo Sumiyoshi), Seijo Inagawa, his brother Kakuji and Itsuki Ishii gathered together in the top floor of the Chin-Rojji ("Our Lodge").
Four of them sat at a table, three of them opened soft drinks, and Itsuki, as usual, began shuffling his deck of tarot cards.
"So," Kakuji started, propping his feet on the table, "what now?" Seijo gave his twin a subtle glare. Despite their upbringing, the brothers did not get along.
"What do you mean?" Shigeo asked, opening a can of 1Up. He actually got along well with Kakuji, more than Seijo at least.
"What do we do now, now that Harukichi has passed on?"
Itsuki finished shuffling the "Book of Thoth" and drew the first card. The Hermit, reversed.
"We do what we always do," said Shigeo. "We live."
Itsuki drew a second card. The Five of Disks. He laid it down on top of the inverted Hermit.
"Well of course!" Kakuji snapped back. "But what do we do? We cleaned up the last of Kaneshiro's gang, as our former boss ordered. But now what do we do?"
Third card. The Universe. Itsuki placed this card south, below the first two cards.
"We do what the current capo says," Seijo said sullenly in between sips of Tap Soda.
Fourth card. Death set in the west. No surprise there.
"Relax you two," Shigeo cut in, pouring himself a draft of Dr. Salt. "All we need to do is maintain what we have. With everything else that's going on in other realms, we can't afford to make waves."
"But is that what our current capo says?" Seijo inquired cooly.
"Seijo," Shigeo almost growled in warning. Itsuki drew and placed the fifth card north.
"We need to free Kojima."
All the guys looked round and stared. Fumiko was standing by the window, still wearing her somber outwear and the sash.
"That's what we're going to do," she said, turning to face them. "We need to free Kojima."
Shigeo, Seijo and Kakuji all looked at each other. Itsuki looked down at the card he just set down. Six of Wands.
"Wait, really?" Kakuji asked, genuinely surprised, as were the rest of them. Fumiko crossed her arms.
"Any objections?"
There were none.
One thing those three could agree on, the former elder capo was a very good leader. Get him out, somehow, and give him back his position; hell yeah.
Itsuki drew the sixth card and blinked.
"If we're talking about getting our elder back, legitimately," he slapped the card down in the east, "I think I have an idea."
The card was: The Æon.
August 15
Clear and bright today, Niijima thought as she left the National Archives, appropriate somewhat, considering that today was the National War Memorial Service; a day of peace.
Sae Niijima adjusted the position of her purse and began walking back to Sakurada Gate.
In the Chiyoda district of Tokyo, the Tokyo Metropolitan Police headquarters, the National Archives and the Imperial Palace all within walking distance of each other. In fact, the headquarters location, south of the palace and across the street from southern Imperial Gate, lent the building's nickname: Sakurada Gate, in much the same way London's Police is known as Scotland Yard.
Sae continued eastward, then turned south, following the sidewalk along Chidorigafuchi Park. If her mind wasn't occupied, she would enjoy the serene beauty of the sakura trees. But, alas. In addition to minor cases, general preparations in light of the upcoming elections to be on the lookout for corruption and the widespread mental shutdowns, there are the Phantom Thieves.
The so-called Phantom Thieves of Hearts started out merely as a one-off oddity. A vigilante action, of some sort, at the local Shujin Academy that resulted in one of their teachers confessing to abusing his students. Certainly strange, but altogether, merely a stroke of luck, or a miracle. But then it happened again. Not long after, acclaimed artist Madarame publicly confessed to abusing and stealing the works of amateur artists. And after him, low-level yakuza boss Junya Kaneshiro up and surrendered himself to the police. All three instances were preceded by the display of a calling card by the aforementioned Phantom Thieves of Hearts. In each, the Phantom Thieves claimed to "steal [their] hearts" in order to make them confess.
And now there's Medjed.
The hacktivist group is now threatening a national "cleanse" unless the Phantom Thieves turn themselves into the authorities. As if Sae's headache couldn't hurt even more.
She passed by a young man wearing a pink hoodie and violet shades walking in the other direction, he was fiddling with something in his hands, looked like a deck of cards. Medjed had been a hinderance for a couple of years now, but they had never threatened something on a nationwide scale before. Was such an act even possible?
Itsuki Ishii milled through his deck as he passed Niijima. The last card he pulled he turned over. Two of Swords. He smirked at the meaning of this specific card and turned it upside down before stowing the deck in the left pouch of his hoodie. He spun on his heel and started after the prosecutor, quickly adjusting his gait to match hers.
Sae's mind once again weighed the effects of drugs versus hypnosis on a person's psyche.
Itsuki reached down his collar and pulled up the black kerchief over his mouth and nose.
Sae held up her wrist to check the time.
Itsuki reached into his right pouch and firmly gripped a modified Beretta 92.
A dark green van screeched to a stop on the road beside her. Sae saw the side door slide open and instinctively reached into her bag for her pepper spray when a she felt a sharp sting in back! Drowsiness began to overwhelm her and she stumbled. Itsuki closed in behind, giving her a gentle shove toward the van as two passengers stepped out and pulled her in. Someone on the sidewalk shouted something but Itsuki paid no heed as he boarded the van after the prosecutor, pulling the door shut behind him.
"We're good, go!" And the van took off down Uchibori before turning onto Kojimachi-Gakuen and out of sight.
Dr. Takemi stood up beside Futaba's bed, placing her stethoscope back around her neck.
"A house call is going to cost you, you know."
"How much...?"
"That was a joke," she assured the visibly concerned Makoto Niijima. Next to her, Isamu Shikage was carefully cleaning his glasses with a handkerchief.
"Oh, so..." Makoto continued, "how is her condition?"
"Her pulse, breathing, temperature and blood pressure are normal. Her pupils are responding to light. I'm not sure why, but it seems this girl is in some type of... light stupor. She does lack the muscle for someone her age. I don't think she has much stamina either."
"That much makes sense," Isamu remarked, replacing his glasses, "she is a shut-in."
"I see," Makoto said, "the rebound from her awakening must have..." She faltered as Morgana hopped onto the bed. Crawling up to Futaba's head and giving her a gentle nudge with his nose. "We should tell Sojiro." Morgana's head shot up.
"Won't he find out who were are though?"
"Yeah, we should tell him," Isamu said with finality.
Sae still felt groggy, but she was alert enough to realize that she was sitting up, not laying down, and her arms were behind her back.
Okay, she's not in bed, what's going on?
She forced her eyes open and looked around. She was in a small room. It was dark, but she could tell the room had white walls and a dark blue carpet. The window in one wall was covered by a sheet of plywood. And she was in a chair, hands tied behind her back.
"Well great," she muttered. As if she didn't have more than enough to worry about! She did her best to move her arms, straining to pull at whatever was holding her hands together. It wasn't handcuffs, or cord, too smooth. But it wasn't rough like most types of rope. She twisted her limbs one way and looked over her shoulder. Through her peripheral in the dim light, she could make out dark green paracord; military issue rope.
She heard movement on the other side of the door and straightened up. Some muffled voices, rustling, and then the door opened. A young man in dark pants, a white t-shirt, pale gray handkerchief about his mouth and a blue baseball cap looked in before turning around.
"She's awake." Someone else said something in response and the young man nodded and moved out of the way. Soon after that, two new figures appeared. The second figure was another young man, dressed almost identically to the first and hefting another chair. But the first figure garnered the most of Sae's attention.
This figure was slender, wearing pitch black pants, shoes, and a mask and a blue hoodie. The hood was pulled up and she was wearing sunglasses, but Sae could roughly guess the shape of the figure's face and could see strands of hair protruding from under the hood. This figure waited for the other to set the chair down in front of Sae, taking a seat before the second figure nodded his head and left. The door was left partially open, but only just.
"Good afternoon Niijima-shi." A young woman, possibly high school age. "It has been a long time coming."
"Has it?" Sae wondered. "I don't recall associating myself with kidnappers."
"But we are associated Niijima-shi, by your profession of all things."
"Okay, would you mind clarifying how?"
The young woman was silent for a few seconds.
"How do you see yourself, Niijima-shi?"
"A prosecutor," she answered simply.
"A prosecutor," the girl repeated, "as a job?"
"And as a public servant."
"Ah... but have you been serving the public as you should be?"
"What's that supposed to mean?" Sae asked, feeling like the question was meant to be an insult.
The young woman was silent again, before reaching into the pouch of her hoodie and withdrawing an item in each hand. One was quickly revealed as a miniature flashlight, about the size of a whiteboard marker. She clicked it on, aiming it at the floor and slowly turning it onto the second item. As she did so, Sae was able to see the color of the girl's hair. A medium brown, a rare color. The light illuminated the other item, a piece of newspaper containing a minor news article.
Monster Bōsōzoku Convicted
That's what this is about? Sae actually remembered when the article was first printed. Given some time she would even be able to remember which newspaper it was from. It was about a case she prosecuted. But that case was-
"You're interested in a case from three years ago?" Specifically, it was the second case she handled following her father's death in line of duty.
"Absolutely," she answered, almost instantly. "Ren Kojima, the so-called: Monster, is one of us." That surprised Sae.
Ren "Kaijin" Kojima was arrested and charged with the murder of a niche painter, Sadamichi Hirasawa. It was an open-and-shut case, especially from Sae's standpoint. Kojima had visited Hirasawa several times and, when Kojima was arrested, also had an illegal firearm in his possession. When he was questioned, he said nothing, absolutely nothing. In addition, when they checked his background, they found that everything about him, except for his name, blood-type and possibly age, was completely made up. They weren't even able to find his blood relations.
"One of you?"
"Yes."
"Forgive me, but I find that hard to believe."
"Believe what you will," the girl said, agitation beginning to seep into her tone. "All that matters is that you didn't do a very good job."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Your job, last I understand, is to find those who commit specific crimes and make sure they pay for their crimes."
"It is as you say," said Sae, "but what does that have to do with me?"
"Only this," she awkwardly raised a finger of her right hand, the hand holding the news clipping. "One: you put away Kojima for a crime he didn't commit. And two: Hirasawa's killer still walks free." The girl lowered her hands and leaned forward, her gaze boring into Sae's. "You have completely failed your occupation, Niijima-shi, and we want you to make up for that."
"Hey, Futaba? Hey?"
Isamu and the rest looked on as Sojiro checked his adopted daughter. Rubbing the back of his neck, Isamu glanced at Ann, Makoto, Yusuke and Ryuji. All of them looked as concerned as he felt.
"Oh dear," Sojiro sighed.
"About Futaba..." Makoto started, unsure what to say. Sojiro turned to look at them.
"What are you looking so down for?"
"Well, Futaba-chan's condition."
"Oh, this happens every now and then." What? "She must've used all of her energy. It's like she ran out of batteries. Probably because she doesn't go out much."
"Seriously?" Ryuji started, slouching somewhat in disbelief.
"She'll stay in bed for a couple of days before waking up to her usual self. I'll be right back, I'm gonna close shop." And he left, nimbly stepping around the bed while avoiding the random books scattered all over the floor.
"It's hard to describe how I feel right now..." Makoto admitted.
"Yeah, I'm feeling frustrated," Ryuji smarted.
"I'm glad she's okay," said Ann, "but what do we do about Medjed? I mean, we can't exactly look for another hacker."
"Hey!" Morgana perked up from the bed. "She's awake!"
She was, sort of. Her eyes fluttered open and looked around at least. She moaned and closed her eyes.
"Medjed..." she uttered, almost breathlessly.
"Futaba-chan?"
"Tired. Gonna sleep for a bit..." Her eyelids slid shut and she feel asleep.
"She's asleep again," Ryuji said in disbelief.
"Futaba-chan?" Ann prompted with no success. "Geez, just how long is 'a bit'?"
"Well," Isamu shrugged, "we waited this long, a few more days won't hurt."
"We do have until the twenty-first," Yusuke concurred as Makoto's phone rang.
"Hello?" she answered warily, eyes narrowed for a few moments before recognition hit her. "Oh, Aso-san, forgive me, I didn't recognize your voice." She stepped into the hallway as she continued. "Why are you calling? Does sis need me to do something-? What?" She froze and the sudden change in her tone got Ann and Yusuke's attention. "No, I haven't, and she usually doesn't come home until evening. Did you try-oh, wait, you probably did try calling her right? Sorry, had to ask." Her expression suddenly morphed into mild confusion, or maybe the beginning of panic. "Why are you telling me to sit down?" Everyone was suddenly looking through the door at her as fear began to slowly creep over Makoto's face. "Ah... y-yes, please do. I-I'm sorry, I think I do need to... to sit down. Okay. Thank you." She slowly turned to face them, sheer terror in her eyes.
"What happened?" Yusuke asked.
"My, my sister."
"The prosecutor?" Isamu inquired. Makoto nodded weakly.
"She- she's been kidnapped."