Chapter 2

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The afternoon was mild and warm, the sun shining lazily down past the tall buildings of the city of Tokyo on the throngs of people hurrying up and down the sidewalks. Plenty of time for relaxing once they weren't blocking the sidewalks by doing it. Even on a Sunday afternoon, there was no reason to dawdle.

Unless, of course, one was carrying upwards of seventy pounds of books in various bags and dragging another forty pounds behind oneself in a wheely-suitcase.

Yes, it seemed that Yomiko Readman had yet to learn the meaning of the word "restraint".

As she absent-mindedly weaved her way through the afternoon crowds, nearly every member of said crowds stopped to either smile indulgently or gawp unashamedly, if only for a moment. After all, she made an odd picture: a lone young woman, clad in a slightly rumpled black skirt, white blouse, brown vest, and thick glasses, her long black hair in slight disarray as though she had bolted out of the house right after waking up without bothering to hunt up a comb (which she hadn't…not at all…and certainly not in the interest of going on a book-binge instead…heh-heh-heh…), dragging with her, of course, the aforementioned one hundred and ten pounds of books. Whether due to the oddness of the girl's appearance or to her aura of unassuming friendliness, the people on the street made more of a point of clearing a way for her than they might have for anyone else walking down the street with their nose buried firmly in a book.

Thus, she reached the sidewalk leading up to her apartment without incident before Fate decided to give her a little poke to show her what happened when a person didn't watch where they were going.

From the opposite direction, a young man came barrelling down the street, throwing anxious glances over his shoulder every now and again. Here was another odd picture, this tall, lanky, sandy-haired young man, his pants covered in dirt, his tie flapping wildly over his shoulder, and certainly a picture that anyone else in the world would have heeded and moved to avoid.

However, Yomiko was not anyone else in the world, and was particularly unlikely to notice things that anyone else in the world would have noticed, when she had a book.

And so, a massive collision took place on a fairly typical sidewalk between two fairly atypical people.

The young man went flying back.

The young woman went flying back.

Books filled the air.

The young man lay, dazed, on the sidewalk.

The young woman sat up dizzily and exclaimed in horror as one of the books was run over by a car, and darted out into the road, regardless of traffic, to retrieve it and utter to it soothing reassurances that she would take it home and make it better again.

The young man pulled himself into a sitting position and wondered if the young woman were some sort of nut, and desperately hoping she had been like this before and he hadn't caused any lasting damage by running into her.

The young woman peered suspiciously over her shoulder at the young man as he stood up and wondered if he had been the one responsible for her book being injured.

"Gee, sorry about that," the young man said sheepishly, stooping to retrieve the book nearest his foot.

Yomiko glanced up from her task of hurriedly picking up several dozen books before they could be trampled beneath the feet of passers by who apparently didn't care as much for keeping the valuable tomes of wisdom in good condition as she did.

"Uh, that's okay," she assured him quickly.

"I was kind of in a hurry, to tell you the truth."

"Uh, that's nice," she said politely, putting the books carefully back into their bags.

"In fact, I'm in a bit of trouble."

"Uh, that's too bad," she said with another quick glance up at him.

"But, you know, I feel bad, so why don't you let me help you carry those home?"

"Oh, that's okay. I'm right here."

"Hey, even better! Actually," he whispered sheepishly, "I've really got to go to the bathroom."

Considering the matter for a moment, Yomiko decided that whatever would let her get her poor, abused purchases home most quickly was the way to go.

"If you'd like to come in for a minute and use mine, I don't mind," she said, wondering curiously where this odd sinking feeling was coming from.

"I'm Joe, by the way," he said absently, glancing over his shoulder nervously.

"Nice to meet you, Joe, even if you did make a car run over one of my books" she smiled. "I'm Yomiko Readman."

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"Woooooooooooooooooooow, that's a lot of books!" Joe exclaimed rather tactlessly a few minutes later.

"Mr. Joe, didn't you have to use the washroom?" Yomiko prompted impatiently, hunting for a free space on her bookshelf.

"Oh, right," Joe laughed sheepishly, disappearing into the washroom.

"What a weird man," she said, shaking her head sadly. Then she glanced down at the book currently in her hand, and two seconds later, was lost to the world.

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When Joe emerged from the washroom a few minutes later, it was just in time to hear a frantic tapping at the door. With a frightened yelp, he dived behind one of the many piles of books scattered at random throughout the room.

"Please don't let them find me," he begged.

Yomiko, still immersed in her book, glanced up for the briefest second.

"Hmm."

Joe waited, breaking out in a cold sweat as the tapping continued. When, after two minutes, the girl by the bookshelf had made no move to get the door, he decided to intervene.

"Uh, there's someone at the door," he called.

Looking up, Yomiko listened carefully.

"Oh! So there is!"

"Please don't tell them I'm here!" he pleaded again.

After looking through the peephole, Yomiko turned around and looked strangely at him.

"If you say so, but it's just a vacuum cleaner salesman," she told him.

"Oh, God, the horror," he whimpered, burrowing deeper into the pile.

With a shake of her head, she opened the door.

Ten minutes and one disastrous demonstration later, a badly frightened vacuum cleaner salesman bolted from the apartment, cursing the tendency of his clientele to leave piles of books lying around where they could easily be sucked up, as a razor-sharp cue card whizzed past his ear, slicing cleanly through a lock of hair.

"And don't come back unless you've got books!" the incensed young woman called after him.

Joe watched in amazement as Yomiko shut the door with a slam that would have been normal for anyone else, but was extraordinarily vicious for her.

"You…you almost killed that guy with a piece of paper!"

"You try having seven of your favourite books ruined by a demonstration of a vacuum you don't want, and see how you react," she said defensively. "I kind of lost my temper."

"That's not really what I meant," Joe told her, straightening up and carefully returning the books he had knocked over to their piles. After all, death by paper-cut would not be a good way to go, and she seemed a little too protective of her books. "I mean, I think you might be able to help me! You see, my tragic story began three days ago when I decided to look for a new job. After a good deal of searching, a kindly old lady at a mini-mart hired me! But the newfound peace and security of my existence was torn away from me when several shady-looking characters showed up while I was heading home from today's shift. You see, I'm being pursued by a bunch of guys sent by my former boss, who wants me dead."

"Um…why does he want you dead?"

"Because I resigned from my position as the group's official coffee guy."

"I guess your boss must really love his coffee…"

"Naw, I just make a darned good cup of joe!" he told her proudly.

Yomiko pondered this for a moment.

"But…aren't you Joe?"

Joe sighed.

"Uh, never mind. Anyway, can you help me?"

She considered this.

"Well, I've got to be honest, Joe. I kind of have a personal policy about these things."

"What's that?" he asked breathlessly.

"I don't like to commit unless there are books involved. Preferably books that are being read by me."

Joe thought quickly.

"Hmm…well, I do have a copy of Moby Dick."

"Moby Dick, you say? Herman Melville…"

"Yup, sure is," Joe agreed with artificial brightness, wondering not for the first time what sort of lunatic he had stumbled upon. "It's a little beat up, thought."

This got her attention. She looked up sharply.

"First edition?"

"Y-yes," he said quickly, eyes shifting nervously from side to side. "First edition."

"Mr. Joe, people tell me that I'm too trusting, but even I'm not going to believe a story like that! A first edition copy of Moby Dick? What kind of fool do you take me for?"

Joe had just begun to reply indignantly, all the more indignantly because he had indeed been lying through his teeth, when a shrill ring filled the apartment. The young man glanced frantically about until he found the source of the sound.

"Uh, Miss Readman, that pile of books is ringing," he said.

"Oh, that's just the phone," she told him with a smile, digging for a moment.
"I still think you'd do well to clean up a bit," he said mildly.

She glared at him as fiercely as she possibly could have glared at anyone.

"And you should stop tricking girls into letting you into their apartments."

"Ouch," he intoned sadly as she extricated a telephone receiver from beneath several paperback novels.

"Hello?" she was meanwhile greeting the person at the other end of the line. She frowned. "What?" A pause. "Oh…that's interesting. A coffee guy? What did you say his name was again?" Another pause. Yomiko shot Joe a suspicious look. "Joe?" Another pause. "I understand. Thank-you. Bye!"

Joe laughed nervously as she hung up the phone, not knowing quite what to expect. Whatever he had expected, though, it certainly wasn't to hear her exclaim, partially annoyed and just a little bit panicked,

"Why didn't you tell me the people trying to kill you were I-Jin?!"

Joe blinked.

"You've heard of them?"

"Yeah! We thought we'd killed them."

"Who is 'we', exactly?"

"Section A, Library Special Forces!"

"A…library," Joe repeated slowly. "From the state of your apartment, this shouldn't surprise me. So, they know about ol' Joe, eh?"

She nodded absently, hunting up her suitcase and taking the books out.

"I'm supposed to be looking for you."

"Hey, I guess I just made your job a bit easier, huh?" Joe chuckled.

"Please don't say that," she requested, her expression pained. "It always makes the job about five times harder when you say it's going to be easy."

"Okay, okay, sorry. So, what are you supposed to do when you find me?"

Here her expression grew more pained still.

"I'm supposed to bring you to see Mr. Gentleman. He wants to know a few things."

"Mr. Gentleman?! What kind of a name is that?!"
"Don't let him hear you asking things like that," Yomiko advised him severely, stuffing little sheets of paper into her suitcase.

"What are you doing?" Joe asked wearily.

"I'm making sure I'm well armed," she told him seriously.

He sighed.

"Right."

"Now, let's get going. We're supposed to meet the helicopter that Mr. Joker is sending for us in about two hours."

Joe stared.

"How far away is this place?"

"Not far," Yomiko replied cheerfully. "But I need to stop somewhere on the way."

"Is it a bookstore, by any chance?"

Now it was her turn to stare.

"Are you psychic, Mr. Joe?"

"Yup," he replied, eyeing the piles and piles and piles of books. "I'm psychic."

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"Isn't the helicopter here yet?" Joe whined, casting an alarmed glance over his shoulder as a flurry of movement, which turned out to be a small child chasing a puppy, caught his eye.

"In a little while," Yomiko replied absently, flipping a page. Then she looked up from her book. "You're the one who was in such a hurry before that you couldn't even let me take the time to find a decent book."

"You just bought a hundred and ten pounds of them!" Joe exclaimed. "Why do you need more?"

"I was only on my second trip," she informed him coolly. "I was going to go out again one more time. I just had to cut it short because of what Mr. Joker said."

"You're nuts," Joe began to say, but then gave a shriek of terror and leapt behind her as a faint rustling drifted from a nearby bush. "What's that?!"
"It's a bunny, Mr. Joe," Yomiko tried to say, having just as little success prying his arms away from where they were clinging around her neck. "Can't…breathe…"

"Oh, sorry," he said sheepishly, releasing her. "Just got a little spooked."

"You mean like the twenty-seven other times since we got to this conveniently-placed wide open field with a helicopter pad in the middle of it?" she asked as close to sarcastically as she had come since high school. "I guess that's why you kept taking my book away and throwing it at people."

"What can I say?" Joe shrugged. "I'm jittery today."

"Well, stop being jittery. I won't let anything happen to you."

"That's so sweet!" Joe exclaimed, hands clasped and eyes shiny.

"After all, Mr. Joker said he'd give me a really special book if I got you to Mr. Gentleman safely!"

Joe's face fell, and he likely would have said more about the ghastly state of the grand tradition of chivalry (despite the obvious problems with his application of the concept), had he not chosen that moment to look up as a massively loud noise filled the air.

"Dear God!" he yelped, ducking behind Yomiko once again. "Now the I-Jin have sent a helicopter after me!"

"He's hopeless," Yomiko sighed, putting her book away temporarily, prying Joe off of her once again, and looking up at the helicopter with Library Special Forces painted across the side.

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