This story is a derivative fanwork written by GodandMen for the Toaru Majutsu no Index/とある魔術の禁書目録 franchise.
BAPTISM
II
-x-
"To the left! The left!"
He clutched the Kalashnikov with blistered hands and glanced at her. He could barely recognize the girl; her face was coated in dust and dried blood. But most of all, her short hair was tied up in a boyish knot.
But it was her eyes, wide with fear and dread, that ate away at his chest.
He took off his black bandanna and tried to wipe the caked dust off her face. He was stopped by a shell landing to their right. The earth erupted in a shower of dirt.
Instinctively and immediately, he grabbed the girl and covered her with his body. For a long time afterwards the ringing vibration reigned supreme. And yet, even with bleeding ears, he could hear her muffled crying.
He pulled her apart and began – out of habit – to check her body for blood, for any sign of a wound. When he got to her head he came to a small face with trembling lips. The girl loudly blew her nose and tried to hide her stray tears.
She was always like this.
Always trying to put up a brave face.
With shaking hands he took off the metal locket from her slender neck and tied it around her wrists. Then he grabbed her hands firmly with his own and managed the best smile he could muster.
She smiled weakly and nodded back.
Together.
But before he could say anything a heavy hand hit him on the back and pushed him forwards. Out of the cover. The fear in his stomach vibrated in sync with the staccato noise of the machine gun.
Clank, clank, clank.
"Go! Get up, and go! This is your only chance!"
And off they went, the two children, darting across the field like fleeing rats. He remembered holding tightly onto her hands, his eyes blind with fear, and simply running, running towards something, somewhere.
The deafening clatter of machine gun fire rattled and reverberated throughout his head.
Clank, clank, clank, clank, clank.
He gripped her fingers tightly, praying that a bullet would not find them.
But it's alright, it's alright.
She's with me.
The stalks of golden wheat brushed past his face, bidding him luck.
We're together, that's what matters.
He did not hear the shell whistling through the air until it was too late.
The earth exploded with a hail of dirt and fire and he hit the ground, face first, clutching his head. Several streaks of tracers followed, whizzing over him. But they passed too high. For what seemed like an eternity he was frozen with fear.
He simply lay there, praying that the next shell would not find him.
But then he suddenly remembered the girl. His eyes shot open, wide with panic. He frantically turned...
…and found himself holding onto a dismembered hand.
He lost track of how long he simply sat there, fixedly staring at the piece of smoldering flesh in his hands: unable – unwilling – to believe his eyes.
Eventually he found in him the courage to look up.
In dread, his eyes skirted across the field until they stopped at the burning, black crater. The golden waves of the wheat bled into the void of the carter, smearing together into an incoherent haze of color and noise.
He could only recognize one thing: a locket – stained red – floating aimlessly on the golden waves, shaking in the wind.
The sound of the machine gun echoed in his head…
Clank, clank, clank, clank, clank, clank, clank, clank, clank, clank, clank!
One of these days.
For a long time, he could only stare at the ceiling, struggling to force his lungs to breathe. Finally, he felt himself regaining control of his body.
Like always, every muscle in his body was tensed to breaking point. Slowly, he began to relax his limbs. One by one. But of course, his left arm was the last to go. It was still wrought with tension as if it was being electrocuted.
One of these days, he thought to himself, I'll wake up and not be able to do that.
One of these days.
The noise was still ringing in his ears.
Clank, clank, clank, clank, clank, clank, clank, clank, clank, clank, clank!
"Can you…stop that?" Jim muttered.
The guard yawned and gave his baton one last swing against the metal bars. The resulting clank! vibrated loudly throughout the cell. Jim clutched his head and groaned.
"Can't you just use your mouth?"
"Oh ho! We got some attitude here, is that it?" the guard crackled.
The most elaborate of profanities formed in Jim's head, but he chose not to say anything. It's not like a Japanese person would understand the phrases anyway. He wearily rose to his feet and walked to the cell door.
"Well, is there a reason, or are you just bored?"
"You're having a talk. Wake up, wash your face, do whatever. Be ready in ten minutes."
Jim limped over to the washbasin and splashed some cold water on his face. He waited for the guard to walk away.
Then he sat down on the cold floor and curled up, clutching his head in his hands.
Fucking dreams, he thought, still trying to mess with me, huh?
His left arm twitched.
Fuck you, we did make it across that field.
Out of habit, he reached up to feel the cool metal links of his locket. But he found none, and the events of the previous day came rushing back into memory.
Emotions that he thought he had lost long ago came flooding out of him, drowning him under their weight. He thought to cry, to scream, to lash out, but there was nothing: only the void.
A quiet whimper escaped his lips.
What have I done?
Same shit, different day.
She saw that the first thing he did upon walking into the interrogation room was to test his handcuffs. He observed the length of the links curiously and even bit it with his teeth, like a merchant tasting for gold. Satisfied with his experiment, he settled down into the chair and placed his hands beneath the table.
He had calm, tired eyes that scoured and observed his surroundings discreetly. The boy was a bit underfed, but quite lean. The marks on his forearms and hands told her that he's been working with them all his life.
Certainly, he had the signs of a criminal. A lame right eye and crooked nose didn't help with the impression.
But there was something amiss.
He was calm. Too calm.
Or to be percise, it was the wrong type of calm.
A thug would be doing something else: posturing, puffed chest, contemptible eyes. Instead, he seemed resigned: tired.
He was preparing himself for something else.
She carefully paced back and forth across the length of the observation mirror, noting each detail about the boy.
"Alright, I've seen enough," she finally announced.
A mischievous smile danced on her lips.
"I'm going in."
After entering the room, she stood still for a moment and their eyes met. Jim slowly took stock of her, assessing her, measuring her. He let the little details speak for themselves.
Woman. Long hair, ponytail. Tall. Athletic. Strong.
Jim's eyes darted down to her hands. He couldn't see her palms but they certainly weren't delicate.
Calloused hands.
He spied a small patch of grey skin between her thumb and her trigger finger on the back of her hands.
Slide bite.
Lots of shooting.
She was wearing a drab, gray sports sweater. The clothes did not strike him like those of a policewoman.
Plainclothes?
His gaze traced the outline of her clothes.
No bulge. No weapon.
Or maybe she had it strapped to the back of her belt. Perhaps it was in a shoulder holster beneath her arm. If she was experienced she could draw it almost as fast as a thigh holster, even if she had to unzip some of her tracksuit first.
Then Jim looked at her neck.
A bit short…
She stepped forward purposefully and sat down in front of him.
"You know why you are here," she said simply, "is there anything else you would like to tell me that we don't know?"
She saw his eyebrows twitch and a strange expression forming on his face.
"Um…" he began slowly, "I…don't really know what you guys know or don't know…I'm sorry?"
"We already know everything there is to know."
"…okay."
Silence.
"So…is there anything you wanted to ask me?" he tried again, not sure what he was supposed to say.
Her hands came down hard on the table, banging it with such force that Jim swore he heard the wooden legs of the table cracking.
"CONFESS!" she shouted savagely, "WE KNOW EVERYTHING!"
He didn't flinch. Instead, she saw a coldness seeping into his eyes, and she could hear the quiet sound of him stretching his handcuff links. They stared at each other for a long time, neither of them blinking. A heavy silence settled into the room.
Then she started to laugh.
"I'm sorry," she said, chuckling to herself, "I've always wanted to play the bad cop."
His first reaction – the honest one, but only for a split second – was a deep frown and furrowed eyebrows.
Ah, she thought, there you are.
But he quickly masked that with an awkward smile and he politely laughed along with her. She walked out and came back with a mug of coffee and some convenience store bread.
"You must be hungry, here, eat and we can talk."
For a moment Jim considered his options and weighed them against each other.
Well, the table is probably bolted to the floor...
The growling noises in his stomach casted another vote.
If it comes to it, it'll be quicker with my hands on the table anyway.
"Thank you, I've been hungry all morning," he said graciously and brought his hands up from under the table. She noted how he placed his hands closely together as if he was being tightly bound by a rope. Not by handcuffs with a two-inch chain link.
"So, let's talk about what happened yesterday. I want to hear your story."
"Well…I don't know where to start."
"Start from the beginning, tell me how it happened. I need to know what happened so I can help you," she cooed gently.
Jim bit his tongue from making a sarcastic remark about how she knows everything and took a sip of his coffee.
"So, yesterday, I was lost and trying to get to my dorm. Then I saw these guys trying to kidnap a girl. They took her to a van and drove away. I didn't know what to do. Then I heard somebody fighting them and then one of the vans drove to the bridge. Then I saw the girl running away and then she jumped off the bridge. That's all I know."
She leaned back into her chair.
Wow.
No frails, no unnecessary details, no misremembered memories, no narrative, no story. It was absolutely nothing like a witness – a high school boy at that – recounting their experience.
She had heard hundreds of testimonies from witnesses, and they always sounded the same: long, rambling, and unfocused.
And of course they would be, when they were asked such an open-ended question such as "tell me what happened". Many guilty suspects have been caught when they talked too much or tried to overelaborate their story. The boy seemed prepared.
Well, she'll have to work this one out slowly.
"I see…did you recover your backpack?" she tried.
Jim blinked.
"I'm sorry, what?"
"Did you recover your backpack? There must have been some valuables in there, no?"
She caught the slightest stir in his face. His eyes clouded over with something she didn't recognize.
"I don't know. I got robbed," he simply stated.
Then he added, just to be clear: "Do you know who robbed me? My credit card and passport were in there. And a lot of my ID papers. I hope I'm not in trouble."
She watched him take another sip of coffee and chew some bread.
Well, well, playing dumb, are we?
"Don't worry," she reassured him, "we have your information."
She motioned at the observation mirror and an officer walked in with a folder. She opened it in her lap, but in such a way that he could not see its contents. She flipped over a couple of pages nonchalantly and looked up again.
"So, it says here that you are an overseas student studying in Academy City?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Interesting…and it also says here that you are currently enrolled in the security cadetship program, training to be an Anti-Skill officer."
"Yes, that's correct ma'am."
"Well, I must say that I'm surprised you didn't call Anti-Skill when you saw the abduction taking place. We could have prevented it from happening. Is there a reason why?"
Jim's mind went blank.
Yeah, he thought to himself, why the fuck didn't I do that? I should have just done that!
He mentally chastised himself for forgetting such a simple thing.
For fuck's sake, you have to remember that you're a civilian, just a random kid. You're not on an op or anything. You don't have to hide.
"I didn't know the number," he lied, "I'm sorry."
"All visitors and students, especially international students, are given a handbook with emergency contact information written on the back when they arrive at the airport," she pointed out.
Oh, I guess I didn't need to memorize all that stuff in the brief. Damnit.
"Ah…I didn't think of that. I'm sorry, I'm very stupid."
"I see, that's understandable. We all make mistakes. Let's talk about what you saw happening at the crime scene. You said you saw somebody attacking the kidnappers? Can you tell me what you saw?"
Jim stuffed another piece of bread into his mouth.
"I didn't really see anything. I just heard some fighting and shooting. That's all I know."
Let's hope she doesn't ask about –
"Interesting. How did you find them?"
– aaaand there it is.
Now Jim was in a tough spot. So far he's just a dumb stupid student who knows nothing, did nothing, and hopefully is responsible for nothing. But he needs to explain how he found them, and if she's asking that she probably knows about the car.
He'll have to admit to something eventually.
"I don't know, it was an accident I guess."
Still playing dumb?
"Also, we recovered a hijacked car at the scene of the crime; do you know anything about that?"
Now, this was tricky. He took the car from a random street, out in the open. It's possible that they could have caught him on security footage doing so. If he denies this they can catch him red-handed with a lie.
He had considered this aspect carefully in his cell but he gambled that they wouldn't have security cameras everywhere. At least not in some small street off the main road like the one he took the car from. Furthermore, he took care to wear gloves – found in the glove box – and to wipe down the dashboard before leaving.
It's unlikely they have his fingerprints.
But if he admits to the car to avoid lying, then his accident story is far less plausible. Especially not when he drove around like a madman, cruising through all the traffic lights.
The realization hit him.
The traffic lights! Traffic cameras!
Of course, they have footage of him with the car. He had forgotten about that.
Shit.
She observed him taking a deep breath and a guilty expression forming on his face.
There it is, she thought, I got him.
To hammer the last nail into the coffin, she smiled sympathetically and reached out to him, placing her comforting hand on his.
"It's alright, you can tell me."
He looked at her nervously.
"Can I tell you the truth?"
A warm motherly smile spread across her face.
"Of course, I won't get mad."
"I kind of stole that car."
"Of course."
Then silence.
She looked at him.
"And then?"
"Well, I stole the car."
She physically resisted the urge to let out a heavy sigh.
Alright, alright, let's do this the long, boring way.
"Why did you steal the car?"
"It was…well, I wanted to go to the police."
"The police? Why did you want to go to Anti-Skill?"
"To report that I got robbed."
"I see, so you wanted –" then she stopped herself.
She took some time to process this new information while casting a curious look at him.
"…so it wasn't an accident that you found them," she stated slowly.
"Well…yes, but no. Okay…so it was like this. I was walking by myself and then I saw like this small girl get kidnapped. They had like a van and like three guys jumped out and grabbed her. I was like 'woah wtf' but I was kinda scared and I didn't know what to do so I just hid in an alley. Then I got robbed by some other guys and I didn't have anything on me. I lost my passport, my ID papers, all of that stuff and I was like panicking really really bad, I felt like I was useless, and also maybe I should have helped the girl. So I thought, hey, I will go to the police station and ask for help, both for her and for me. I was so dumb I forgot to call to the police when I had my backpack, sorry. So anyways I like broke into this car and hotwired it and stuff, and I drove it around really quickly. I am really sorry, I think I drove past like, I don't know, 10 red lights or something. I was just really scared and panicking. It's my first time abroad and I didn't know what to do. I lost all of my money and my passport and I still haven't found my dorm. I worked so hard to come to Academy City and my –"
She massaged her temple.
Now he's talking like a witness: like a teenage boy in high school studying abroad for the first time, like someone who had just witnessed an abduction and got robbed the night before. A frantic one, maybe, but she's seen worse breakdowns.
"Slow down, slow down. You were talking about driving the car. What happened next?"
"Okay...so yeah, I was driving around the car and I didn't know the map so I was driving and driving. Then I thought to myself that I don't even know what I'm doing so I stopped the car to figure out what to do –"
No, you stopped the car deliberately, she thought, I saw the footage.
"– and then I thought I heard something suspicious going on in one of the alleys. I had a gut feeling about it so I crept up to it to see what it was –"
She racked her memory of the footage.
Yes…that is a passable explanation.
After all, the footage is limited. The angle was bad. All we have is him stopping the car and creeping into an alley. Well, that and him dashing the lights.
She tapped her fingers.
It would be difficult to prove intent.
"– and then I hear some people fighting and shooting or something. I was afraid to peek because I thought they might see me, so I just hid behind a corner. And then the fighting stopped and I crept out and I saw that some guys were hurt and stuff. I didn't get a chance to see who did it."
How convenient.
"I'm sorry, I'm really sorry. I was panicking and I thought I was going to be homeless so I stole that car. I never wanted to hurt anyone. I know I could have caused a traffic accident but I didn't mean to do that. I am really sorry to the owner of that car, please don't expel me from school. I worked so hard to get here, this is my future –"
Well, she thought, his guilty face is pretty convincing.
The boy looked to be on the verge of tears and his voice was beginning to break.
Maybe a little too convincing.
"Please, I can help you. You have to tell me what happened next," she said patiently.
"Okay…so I saw that some guys were hurt, and then I saw one of the van driving out onto the bridge. It was the same van that I saw the girl get kidnapped from so I thought that maybe I should do something, so I ran up to the bridge and then this girl shot like a laser or something, it was really crazy and it blew up the van! Seriously, it was crazy."
"The van did not blow up. It was toppled."
"Oh right, right, so then I saw someone running out of the van to the bridge, like the side of the bridge. I looked carefully it was the girl! For some reason, she looked at me and maybe she thought I was a bad guy and then she jumped off the bridge! It was crazy, man!"
"And you jumped in after her."
He looked away sheepishly.
"I don't know what I was doing…I guess…I guess I wanted to save her," he mumbled.
Her mouth twitched.
"We have testimony from Judgement members on the scene that you were wielding a firearm."
He shrugged.
"I dunno, I saw it on the ground and picked it up, I thought it might help or something. Sorry, I didn't shoot anybody or anything."
She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. He nibbled away at the remaining bread, his eyes downcast. They sat in silence for a moment before she closed the folder.
It was a dead end.
"Did you guys find her? The little girl from the van?" he suddenly asked.
"No," she replied grimly, "we have personnel stationed all along the river, but we've yet to find her body."
"So did you catch the bad guys?"
"Yes, some of them. While you were heroically trying to save the girl, members of Judgement arrested several heavily wounded men from the overturned van."
"What did they say?"
She did not answer. She was staring fixedly at the ceiling, deep in thought, while Jim finished the last bit of coffee and waited for an answer.
Finally, she stretched her arms and got to her feet, and started pacing around the room. The sounds of her rapid footsteps echoed in Jim's ears. He glanced down and saw that she was wearing black combat boots.
Do Anti-Skill officers wear such things? He thought they were just policemen. Or was it just her?
She finally spoke up.
"They said they were attacked by an unknown assailant who took out their tactical team, which included a foreign esper. Then they were stopped by Judgment before they could get away."
Jim carefully controlled his breath, taking care to inhale and exhale in small, quiet cycles. It helped to mask his rapidly rising heartbeat. He pinched his hand and concentrated his mind on the stinging pain: a distraction from the cold sweat forming on his back.
He took stock of the facts.
The fighting took place in a dark alley at night. The capture van was stationed a fair distance away from the command van. He was shooting at them from behind cover. The only people who would have seen Jim personally was the tactical team…
"Oh, I saw some guys on the ground next to the van, what happened to them?"
Her eyes pierced him.
"They were executed. All of them. Shot in the back of their head."
Jim whistled a sigh of relief. But that was followed quickly by an ominous thought.
I didn't do that.
Speaking of which…I probably should have. Once I got the pistol. Don't want them getting up and jumping me from behind.
"You said there was an esper, did you catch him?"
"No, we did not."
So she did that, Jim thought, taking out her own team, huh?
She probably woke up while the debacle on the bridge was happening and then personally took care of it before escaping.
"I take it that you don't know that the men who robbed you were the same men who abducted the girl?"
"Oh whoa!" he exclaimed loudly, eyes widening, "Really? I didn't know that. Did you find my bag with them? What did they want with me?"
"No, we did not find your bag. They probably attacked you because they suspected you were involved somehow with their target."
"How did you figure that out?"
"We found a laptop in one of their vans. Electronic analysis revealed that they had set up some observation cameras to track their target and you just happened to cross their path."
Jim looked at her.
Without even looking at him, she answered his question:
"There was very limited footage. And no, there is no footage of you hijacking the car."
She finally stopped pacing around and sat down again. Jim saw that her face was clear of the frustration and concentration that had plagued her throughout the interrogation. Instead, there was now a mischievous smile dancing on her lips. Their eyes met.
She took off her hairband, and her long, lustrous hair flowed down onto her back.
"Not bad, not bad," she began, nodding approvingly, "that story will do."
He raised his eyebrows.
"Some tips: you didn't steal the car, you commandeered it. And don't overplay the panicking student angle. Talk more about how you wanted to save the girl, but yes, make a point to stress that you were pretty dumb to not call Anti-Skill when you still had your backpack. Good call on playing dumb about who robbed you, it saves you a fair bit of hassle. Again, remember that you wanted to save the girl. It'll be a lot more consistent when you jump in after her on the bridge. You will have to admit to the car because we have footage. That being said, quite stupid of you to take the effort of wearing gloves and then dash the lights like a drunkard. Oh well, you're a cadet after all."
She saw his eyebrows rising higher and higher. He did a good job of maintaining a neutral expression and waited for her to say more. His hands were still on the table, still positioned closely together, absolutely motionless.
She smiled and pushed her chair into the table. She tantalizingly leaned in closer, placing her elbow on the table and holding her face only a foot away from him. She made a point of pressing her breasts together and, taking his hands, squished them beneath her chest. Against the table.
And of course, she stuck her neck out right in front of him, exposing her throat.
"In a couple of hours, the official investigator will have a chat with you. Tell them everything you said to me, with some tweaks, and you will be fine."
She shifted her chest slightly and felt her breasts wiggling against his hands.
"While the carjacking is unfortunate, I'll pull some strings and it'll be recognized as what it is: a valiant attempt by a brave cadet to save an innocent little girl."
She carefully observed his expression. There was no pretense of discomfort, blushing, or surprise; his face was just a blank slab of ice. She shook her head a bit and let her hair tussle out naturally.
Then she leaned in even closer until his lips were just inches away from hers. The woman let out a hot steamy breath on his face. He was looking up now, through the tresses of her hair that completely covered his peripheral vision.
He couldn't turn away from her face.
"You were so brave, Jim," she purred, "I've never seen such a commendable young man like you."
She was very close.
"It was you who beat up the bad guys, right?"
She felt the metal handcuffs beneath her chest.
Do it, she thought, do it.
Jim opened his mouth ever so slightly to say something. She looked into his brown, murky eyes and saw in them only a calm darkness. The only thing he betrayed was a twitch on his drooping right eyelid.
She realized then and there that she might as well be stark naked for all that mattered. It made no difference to him; he was taking his time.
Finally, he whispered his answer:
"I didn't kill them."
Her steely gaze carefully pierced him, looking for any signs of weakness or hesitation.
"Someone killed the tactical team. Not me."
For a long moment the two of them stayed there like that, their bodies so close that they could feel each other's heartbeat.
Then she let out a long, deep sigh and collapsed back into her chair. Defeated. She took her hairband and started retying her ponytail. Jim blinked quickly and began to carefully pick out the long, loose strands of her hair in his eyes.
"Why did you jump into the river?"
He shrugged.
"I'm a brave cadet trying to save an innocent little girl."
She scoffed contemptibly.
"Ma'am, you have grey hair."
"What?!"
"You have grey hair, ma'am." Jim carefully observed a strand of hair on his finger and raised it up against the light.
"Nonsense! Let me see that."
He handed it to her.
After a few moments of intense scrutiny, she finally looked up with a terrible, terrible frown. She angrily tossed it back at him. But it simply floated down harmlessly, small rays of light glimmering from it as it fell silently to the floor.
She looked at the scuba watch on her wrist.
"So, today's Saturday. Next week Monday I want you at the station door 7:00 AM, sharp! I need to whip you into shape before the school year starts. Right now you're just a hooligan Hound-Dog-knock-off without the juice to strong arm your way out of the stupid shit you get into. And don't get into any more trouble! And wear a uniform! I'm not taking a shaggy kid under my wing."
He listened carefully and nodded solemnly at her instructions. Then he tilted his head in mild confusion.
"Uniform, ma'am?"
"Don't worry, go to supply and they'll cut out a size for you."
"…supply?"
"Yes, supply."
He tilted his head to the side and gave her a weird side-ways glance. She rolled her eyes.
"Yes, a uniform," she said slowly, "you're a security cadet, remember? An Anti-Skill cadet. A cadet wears a uniform...yes? U-n-d-e-r-s-t-a-n-d? The S-T-A-T-I-O-N. You follow?"
She let out a hearty laugh when she saw the realization slowly dawning on his face.
"Yes, that station, you know, the Anti-Skill station, that you, an Anti-Skill cadet, also known as a security cadet, is assigned to. Yes, the Anti-Skill station, no, not the other one. Remember? You're a dumb stupid high school boy studying in a cadetship program, remember?"
He nodded frantically, and it amused her to no end to see how sheepish he was being. And she knew that he wasn't pretending; it was real.
This was the real him actually being the dumb teenager in high school that he was supposed to be.
Oh, these kids, she thought sadly, what are we doing to them?
"So…" he managed to stammer out, "you're not…?"
"Not what?"
"…"
"Speak!"
"Nothing, ma'am."
"Well, since you won't tell me what I'm not, I'll tell you what I am."
The woman stood up proudly and cracked her knuckles. A devious smile spread across her face. Jim gulped nervously, beads of sweat actually dripping down his head. Sheer horror was plastered across his face.
"Yes, I'm Lieutenant Yomikawa Aiho, commanding officer of Anti-Skill Branch 73, and commanding officer of you."
He immediately jumped to his feet and stood at attention. The chair fell onto the floor with a loud rattle. He tried to salute but only succeeded in bruising his wrist with the handcuffs from the sudden jerk of motion.
"I'm sorry madam!" he hollered enthusiastically, "I didn't know!"
"Oh please, don't shout in such a small room. And save me the false manners. When I heard my assigned cadet got into trouble I figured that I'll come and see what kind of a fuck-up he must be. I got what I came for and a bit more. Quite a bit more. By the way, all of this is unofficial, of course, and our conversation isn't recorded or part of your testimony. So don't get too worked up about it."
She reached for the coffee mug and plastic wrappers on the table.
"No, no, no," he blurted out, "I'll do it, ma'am. I'll do it. Thank you for the – !"
"I said, stop shouting."
" – meal…madam," he finished on a whisper.
"And you can throw the trash, but that's my mug."
He obediently handed her the cup.
She opened the door. But just before she walked out, she glanced back at him and looked him in the eye.
"Oh, last thing. Next time, don't check your handcuffs like such an idiot. And don't be so obvious about it, I saw you staring at my neck when I walked in. The touch with your hands being bound is nice but only brings unwanted attention to it."
She impatiently tapped her fingers against the door.
"And yes, the table is bolted to the floor, you cannot flip it. Yes, Anti-Skill handcuffs have a two-inch chain link between them, and yes, it is a bit short to strangle someone's neck with it. However, you're always welcome to try if you want to."
Yomikawa winked.
"For your information, the current record for that move is seven seconds. Seven seconds! Managing to last seven seconds is very respectable, especially against me. On the eighth I break both your wrists. Who knows…maybe you can do better. You certainly have the right to dream!"
And with that, the door slammed shut and Jim was left alone in the room. He slowly put the plastic wrapper down on the table before collapsing into the chair.
For a long moment, he simply stared at the table, trying to make sense of what just happened. He reached for the folder – left behind without a care – and flipped through the pages.
The first page had several bullet points scrawled across it, listing basic information about him.
The rest of the pages were absolutely blank.
Then, finally, he muttered:
"Fuck."
Still got it!
Yomikawa stood in the hall for a second, smiling to herself. She heard an annoyed huff and turned to look at the schoolgirl standing behind her, leaning against the wall.
Her arms were crossed along her chest, just below the Judgement armband on her sleeve. She shook her head and flung her hair dismissively.
"Why did you let him off like that, Yomikawa-sensei?" she pouted, "you know that he's not what he pretends to be."
Yomikawa shrugged.
"Whoever he's with, he's not against us," the lieutenant said simply, "and that's good enough for me."
"But he could be related to the –"
"The serial killer? I seriously doubt it. He arrived in the city only yesterday."
The girl did not seem satisfied with her answer.
Yomikawa shrugged.
"In any case, he'll start working with me on Monday. Don't worry, I'll keep a close eye on him. He might even prove useful in helping us with the killer."
The lieutenant rubbed her chin thoughtfully. Yes…the boy could certainly prove to be useful, especially with his set of skills. Yomikawa could use the help.
Especially the help of someone who was taught and trained by them.
The girl furrowed her eyebrows and let out an exasperated protest. But before she could say anything Yomikawa simply started walking down the hall. The girl glanced back at the door of the interrogation room. Then she took a few quick steps to catch up.
"Who is he?" the girl asked.
A mongrel, Yomikawa answered in her mind, but said nothing.
-x-
First uploaded: 20/10/2020
Last modified: 1/4/2021
Word count: 6,003
Changelog:
5/3/2021 – Minor prose edits. Shamlessly added eyelid (too late for shame anyways!). Also shamelessly removed level reference.
1/4/2021 – General edits and final cleanup (hopefully).
15/3/2021 – General edits.
7/3/2021 – Removed both of the obnoxious author's notes. Also, get out the fuck out, you're in the wrong franchise! Fucking skates, man.
7/12/2020 (?) – Shamelessly added ending bit about serial killer. Changed Yomikawa observations of Jim. Shamelessly added black bandanna.
7/11/2020 (?) – Removed internal monologue about Chekists(?). Rewrote parts of dream.