While Kouta was genuinely relieved to see Nyu again, he could not help but feel a little aggravated when the strange soaked girl began to sneeze. She had apparently caught a cold.

"You shouldn't have run out like that," he scolded as Nyu shivered on the ground in front of him, "Did you really go all the way down to the beach? And did you also know that you're wanted by the police?"

"N-Nyu."

"Right. I guess it was too much to hope that you'd pick up a few new words during your time out," He smiled tiredly, "At any rate, I've made up my mind and I won't let them take you. You seem pretty harmless to me."

He rifled through his backpack and pulled out a dry yellow shirt.

"Okay, change into this."

Nyu looked blankly at the shirt, then back at Kouta.

"Um, okay. I...guess I'll have to change you myself."

The awkwardness of this situation had become apparent before Kouta's realization. Nyu's wet shirt was thoroughly soaked, and he could even see her nipples from behind the wet cotton fabric. He gathered up his courage, closed his eyes, and began lifting her soaked shirt up. While he was doing this, Alma Wade, as naked as Nyu and three times as scrawny, walked into the room while making less sound than a cat. There hadn't been any sound of an opening door to alert Kouta to her presence, either. It was almost as if she had just suddenly materialized in the very room that he was blindly fumbling in, and so he kept his eyes shut. Nyu, whose eyes were wide open and confused, began to shift uncomfortably at the sight of the strange woman, who was standing there, watching them both with dark, unblinking eyes.

Don't be scared. You know me.

"Nyuuuuu," Nyu began to shift uncomfortably as the words seemed to force their way into her very mind and soul.

"Hey, stand still!" yelled Kouta. He began groping around for Nyu, trying to grab her arm, but ended up grabbing something a bit softer.

Nyu stopped struggling and stared at Kouta with a new curious sense. "Nyu?"

Alma wasn't curious. Alma was livid. Yellow eyes narrowed into dark red slits at this atrocity. How dare The Boy touch her friend like she was nothing, when either one of them could easily wipe him off of this house with as little effort as stepping on a troublesome little bug. But she had made a promise not to kill him. But if she were to burn him, to melt that arm off his body as she had done with that soldier, then that would be sufficient. That would keep his hands off.

She was already picturing it in her mind when the door began to open. Remembering that she was trying to be unseen, she vanished just as the door opened, and Yuka stepped into the room. At the same time, Kouta finally opened his eyes, and realized where his hand was on Nyu's body. Nyu let out a soft moan. And Kouta jerked his hand away with lightning speed, but not before Yuka saw.

Her reaction is better imagined than described.

A half-hour later, Nyu was fully dressed and asleep in one of the many guest beds, and Kouta's newly acquired bruise still felt rather sore. He pressed an ice pack against the afflicted area, grimacing at the coldness. He was sitting at the kitchen table, comprehending just what a time his first day in Kamakura had been, and trying to ignore the nagging feeling in the back of his head that none of it was over.

Yuka entered the room, sitting across from him and smiling apologetically.

"How's your bruise?" she asked cautiously.

"It's fine," Kouta responded in an absent-minded manner. He did not so much as glance toward his cousin. Yuka frowned, thinking that the distance he was expressing was out of anger toward her, but she was wrong. Kouta wasn't feeling angry; he was feeling reflective, thinking back on everything that had happened today, and the strange girl he had met, as well as the harsh warning he had gotten when mishandling her. He had been brooding over that moment for a while now, picking each aspect apart and putting it together, like an obsessive man who not only wants to solve a jigsaw puzzle, but to comprehend each part of it as well.

"Do you remember the festival?" Yuka asked spontaneously.

"Hm?" Kouta finally looked toward her, and she took it as a good sign.

"The festival," she repeated, "When we were young."

And life was much simpler, she thought but did not add.

Kouta blinked. He had not thought about the festival in years, and Yuka's mention of it had mildly caught him off guard.

"A festival?" he asked, "Where'd that come from? That doesn't matter right now, does it?"

SLAM!

Kouta jumped as Yuka's fist struck the wooden tabletop in a fit of anger. Finally turning to look at his cousin, he registers the anger on her face, as well as something else. Something...sad.

"You jerk!" she shouts, "Ever since, I've been...I've been…"

It's quite clear that there's something she wants to say, but whatever it is doesn't seem to have the courage to leave her throat. Kouta watches as she stands there fuming, then she turns and stomps out of the room. He considers going after her, but dismisses the idea. If today had taught him anything, it's that it's best to give a girl space when they're upset. He sat and tried to remember the festival, and felt a sudden chill run up his spine, like a lightning bolt up a metal rod. He hunched over, alarmed at the sudden coldness he felt. In his shock, he failed to notice Alma peering at him from around a corner. Her withered face regarded him for a moment, then turned to look up toward Yuka's room.

Yuka sat upstairs at a desk in her room, taking small paper animal puzzles out of a box. She had remembered these when she had mentioned the festival to Kouta, as they had played with them when they were younger. They were small pieces of paper with indentations in the shape of various animals: dogs, cats, horses, and the like. One used a small knife to carve out the paper animal. Yuka was currently working on a bird. She was about halfway through etching it when Alma silently walked into the room, and perhaps by coincidence (or perhaps not,) Yuka's hand slips, splitting a line down the birds back.

"Oh, it cracked!" shouted a much younger Yuka.

Yuka blinked. She was no longer sitting in her bedroom. She was back at the festival. Paper lamps danced across the night sky as people in traditional kimonos walked by. She looked around and saw herself and Kouta from long ago. They were both younger, and were sitting across from her on a bench. Young Yuka was also working on a paper bird, and had split it. Old habits die hard.

"Boy, you suck at this," said Kouta.

"Yeah?" snapped Yuka. She handed the tiny knife to Kouta, "Let me see you do it!"

"Sure," replied Kouta. He took the knife and began rummaging through the box for another paper animal. Yuka didn't react to any of this at first. Her mind was in that mostly empty-headed state that many people have when they're dreaming. It encourages them to not question things, but to just roll with whatever their imagination throws at them. But when she saw what Kouta pulled out of the box, she began to feel something. The animal this time was a cat, but the material it was on was not paper. It was human skin.

"Now let me show you how it's really done," said Kouta, only now his gaze was turned to the Yuka sitting across from him at the table. Yuka's breath cut short. Kouta's eyes had changed to a pallid yellow color. He lowered the knife and began to carve out the animal the small blade cutting through skin just as easily as if it had been regular paper. Yuka screamed in pain as her arm began to bleed. She rolled up her sleeve and watched with horror as a small cut grew on her forearm. A cut that mirrored Kouta's progress on the puzzle.

"Stop," she whispered. Kouta kept on cutting as if she weren't there.

"STOP!" She lunged across the table and grabbed for the blade.

Yuka gasped as she sat up. She was in her room once more. Any visions and memories were gone now. She started to settle, then felt a wetness on her arm. She looked down and nearly screamed. Her sleeve had been rolled up. Carved on her left forearm was a tiny cat, the lines as perfectly traced as the puzzle. Youka began to wonder how this could have happened, how someone could cut her own arm, then she registered that her right hand was holding something. She glanced at it and her blood turned cold. She was holding the small knife used for the puzzles, blood dripping from the tiny blade.

I cut myself without realizing it!

She was out the bedroom door, down the hall, and in the bathroom without even registering it, scrubbing soap and water into the wound with frantic fervor. She didn't look up from the sink at the bathroom mirror, otherwise, she would have noticed Alma leering at her from out in the hallway.

"Nana?"

Nana looked up from her bindings. Kurama had entered her cell and was standing in front of her.

"It's you, Papa!," she squealed happily, "It's really you!"

Kurama quietly felt his heart soften a bit as the Diclonius's expression shifted to one of eager happiness. Her stitches had yet to fully close, and her struggles against her straitjacket and chains had helped to ensure that the healing process wouldn't be too quick. She was chained, bloodied, and bleeding, but the moment Kurama had spoken her name, all trace of pain had disappeared from her face. She'd perked up like a child receiving a cookie, like a puppy seeing her owner, like a daughter meeting her fath-Kurama focused himself. There were cameras in this room, and they were watching.

"Nana," he stated in a simple, declarative tone, "I've come to ask for your help."

"What'd you want me to do? I'll do anything you want. Just ask me, Papa!"

Outside of the containment cell, Shirakawa watched the interactions between her boss and his test subject with another assistant beside her, a spectacled man named Isobe.

"Isobe," said Shirakawa, "What does she mean by 'Papa?' She isn't really Chief Kurama's daughter, is she?"

"Of course not," replied the man formally, "She's been locked in here since she was born. Her life has been spent enduring experiments worse than torture. To stay alive, she needed some kind of support, someone to convince her it all meant something."

Shirakawa glanced at her colleague, eyebrows raised. "And you're telling me that support came from Chief Kurama?"

Isobe shrugged. "She believed that the Chief was her father, and she did everything she could to live up to his expectations. So far that's kept her alive."

Shirakawa looked back at Nana with a newfound sense of pity. Isobe continued to speak, but Shirakawa was no longer listening. Her attention was entirely focused on the Diclonius in question.

"Nana," he stated, "I want you to kill some people."

Nana's happy smile folded into a worried frown. "I...I can't kill people."

Kurama nodded, having expected this answer. "Then locate them. I'll arrange contact for when you find them. But you'll have to be on your guard, these people are dangerous."

Nana looked up at her father figure with apprehension. "Who are they?"

"You have two targets," continued Kurama in his usual professional tone. "The first is a Diclonius, like you."

"What?!" said Nana in a startled tone. Her eyes had widened in surprise.

"A Diclonius has escaped. Diclonius have a natural ability to sense each other. Only you would be able to find her."

Nana took a moment to consider this. "I think I can find her, who's the other person? Is she another Diclonius?"

"No. We're not quite sure what she is, exactly. She's able to change her shape at will, from a young girl to an emaciated woman. She's also able to conjure fire and vanish at will. Her name is Alma."

"Alma?" Nana tipped her head in wonderous thought, "That's a pretty name!"

"Pretty or not, she's just as dangerous as any Diclonius. We sent out an assault team and she killed one of the soldiers and severely wounded the squad leader."

Nana frowned, a worried expression taking place, "Wounded? Will he be okay?"

One arm severed, another broken, third degree burns and eyes gouged out. How can anyone be okay after that?

"He'll recover in time. I have yet to fully question him, but I will once I'm finished here," Kurama took a few step closer. Nana craned her neck to follow his approach. "Nana, it's important to me that you do this. You're the only one that can help me."

At first, Nana could only gape at the assistant director. Hot tears began to seep from her eyes. She was the only one who could help her father. With something important no less. Oh, how she had always wanted to be of use to her father, to prove what a good daughter she could be. She had endured countless horrors at the facility, but she had persevered, not so that she could one day be free, but so she could make her father proud by being the best daughter possible. She boeds her head, taking a moment to collect herself, then raised it up again, all smiles once more.

"I won't let you down!" she cheerfully exclaims.

Kurama nodded, and Nana felt her heart skip a beat, "You have one day, Nana." He turns his head, looking up at the monitor that had been watching the conversation with passive silence.

"Get her ready for combat."

The next day was as beautiful as an afternoon could be. The sun shined down, casting Maple House in a cheerful glow. Yuka didn't notice any of this, and if she did, it would have done little to cheer her. She was sitting out in the small courtyard, staring at the trees while lost in thought, unknowingly tracing the cuts on her bandaged arm. She couldn't get last nights "accident" (it had taken her a while to come up with the right term for what she had done to herself,) out of her head anymore than the scratches out of her skin. The cuts themselves weren't the problem. She had made sure to clean the wound as her father had once taught her, and she didn't think the wound would be deep enough to leave any scars.

No, what shook her was the fact that she had done such a thing to herself. After bandaging her arm, she had spent rest of the night looking up what she could on subconscious self-harm. From what she had learned while reading in a half-stressed, half-drowsy daze, the cause for harming oneself, willingly or not, often came from a stressful point of her life. The article she'd read described it as a "trigger," and she already knew what it was: Kouta. She had been dreaming about him when she was slicing her arm open. But what about him did she find so stressful? Was it her feelings for him, or the incident all those years ago that had cost him half his family? She knew she wasn't to blame, but when she'd first heard the news, her heart had broken in a way that felt like it would never have healed.

Based on what she'd read in the article, the best method to deal with her problem was to confront it, and that meant talking with Kouta. But what could she say? "Hey, Kouta. Last night I cut myself while thinking about you." I'd sound like a freaking masochist!

"Is there a problem, Yuka?"

Yuka let out a small yelp as she suddenly realized that Kouta was right next to her.

"Sorry if I startled you," said Kouta quickly, "I just got done getting Nyu to settle down. Did you know she can't tell the difference between a pair of slippers and a glass of water?"

"Really?" said Yuka quickly. This did not somehow surprise her.

"So," said Kouta as he took a seat next to his cousin, "What were you so engrossed about in thought that would make you tune out everything?"

"I...was thinking about the festival." That wasn't a complete lie, and it gave Yuka a small amount of comfort.

"Oh," Kouta looked off into the distance. It was a habit of his that Yuka was beginning to notice whenever the two of them discussed the past, "You know, I don't remember much about it. Not long after the last time we said good-bye, things got kind of tough for me. Only a few days after I left, my dad died in a car accident."

Yuka's eyes widened. She hadn't expected him to say that.

"And then Kanae started getting sick. It was just one terrible thing after another. I wonder if that's the reason," He turned back to Yuka and saw the expression on her face, "What's wrong?"

"But that day…" said Kanae in a hushed tone, "You, your dad, and little Kanae were on the train. I stood there and watched you guys get on." She was speaking in an almost frightened whisper, as though she were afraid about how Kouta would act.

"I can't hear what you're saying, Yuka," said Kouta plainly.

"It's nothing," said Yuka, "Excuse me, Kouta." She nodded to her cousin as she got up and walked back inside, feeling a sudden need to lie down.

"What did you say?" asked Kurama in a quiet, stunned voice. He was in the facilities medical ward, talking to a heavily bandaged Bando. The soldier had been sent to the trauma center as soon as he'd returned, and would have probably bled out on the beach had it not been for the aid of some strange girl that he hadn't known of. As soon as he had been patched up, Kurama had strode down to Bando's ward. He didn't want to wait hours for someone to send a report. He wanted to know what had happened at once, and he was going to hear it straight from the horse's mouth. He had it known it wouldn't be pretty, but he was still shocked by what he heard.

"How many times do I have to say it?!" raged a blinded and heavily bandaged Bando, "That b**** with the horns didn't do a d*** thing! She just laid on the ground, crying like a f****** baby when I wounded her!"

"And it was Alma who did this to you?"

"Yes!" snapped Bando. He paused for a moment, and Kurama knew that if Bando still had eyes, they'd be darting around in terror. "She...it...burned up my partner. Incinerated him without a match or lighter. He was nothing but charred bones by the time I turned around. And then she was on me…"

Well, at least they wouldn't have to castrate him, though they would still have to test him just in case he was infected with the Diclonius virus. Kurama was so deep in thought that he hadn't realized he'd left until he was back out in the hallway. As if he didn't have enough mysteries to deal with, now he had to come to terms with the fact that Lucy had been harmless? He still couldn't bring himself to believe it. His mind flashed back to a time when he had combed through hundreds of fatalities that had swept Japan, from that bloodbath in the orphanage to the carnival slaughter to the showdown in those cold streets, when they had finally captured Lucy. All those deaths, and now Lucy wouldn't even lift a hand to defend herself? As he thought about it, something came to his mind: a conversation he'd had with the Diclonius.

"Where is she? Where's Alma?"

"You and Aiko were the only girls we found. Whoever Alma was, she must have abandoned you."

"LIAR!"

But he hadn't been lying. Though his scouts had initially reported three girls, by the time the assault team had mobilized, they had found only Lucy and Aiko, the other girl. They had tried to save her, but to no avail. And of course, Lucy had blamed Kurama entirely.

"I will make you suffer...I will kill everyone who matters to you."

Kurama didn't know what Lucy was playing at by acting soft, but he refused to believe her act for a second. He remembered her escape, remembered Kisaragi, and knew that Lucy would always be a monster. One that he must destroy for the fate of mankind.

As reassuring as his conviction felt, none of this brought him any closer to knowing what Alma was. The thought that there could be another monster, one as powerful and twisted as a Diclonius, troubled him deeply, especially the fact that this monster was apparently Lucy's best friend. And now Nana was involved...

"Mr. Kurama?" said a voice behind him. He turned around and saw his assistant Shirakawa standing at the door, a file in hand. She took a step into his office, looking concerned, "Is everything alright?"

"Fine," said Kurama. He looked up at the woman and did his best to sound authoritative, "I was simply wondering about Lucy's accomplice."

"I've been wondering about that as well," stated Shirakawa as she walked up to her boss, "So I did some digging, and I believe you should see what I've found."

She handed him the file, which Kurama looked at with a hopeful sense of interest. Typed on the file were a few words:

Armacham Technology Corporation

"We've been wondering about things for the past few days, now," continued Shirakawa, "It's time we started getting answers."

"Good morning, Yuka."

"Oh! Hello, Kouta!"

Yuka scooted a few inches aside so that her cousin could sit next to her on the front steps of Maple House. She watched as he settled back, looking up at the clear morning sky.

"Where's Nyu?" he asked calmly.

"Oh, she should be somewhere upstairs," said Yuka cheerfully, "I've dressed her in some of my old clothes."

It had been a few days since they'd brought Nyu back in from the rain, and the new guest seemed to be settling in well. Granted, her vocabulary had not extended beyond the single word "Nyu," and there were times where she would suddenly throw a fit, (it was almost like she'd seen a ghost), but for the most part, Kouta kind of enjoyed having Nyu around. Her antics were actually pretty funny once he got used to them.

"So, what are we going to do about Nyu?" asked Yuka, "Are we going to turn her in to the police?"

"We can't do that!" stated Kouta plainly. Yuka blinked, and Kouta realized that he had actually leaned forward toward Yuka when he had spoken. Under a certain light, it might have been intimidating. He backed down, and spoke in a calmer tone, "What I mean is that we shouldn't. Nyu's happy here, and clearly doesn't want to leave. I've kept an eye on her, and she doesn't seem dangerous. She could just be an escaped mental patient."

Yuka looked back at the house with a pensive expression, "A mental patient? I never considered that." After a moment's thought, she looked at Kouta with determination, "If that's the case, then I'll stay here with you both as well!"

That caught Kouta off guard, "What?!"

"Come now," said Yuka as she gave her cousin a sheepish smile, "It's not like you don't have room to spare."

Kouta couldn't find anything to say about that.

"Armacham?" asked Kurama, as he examined the file.

"Yes, sir," said Shirakawa, "The multinational conglomerate founded in 1964. As we know, they've been involved in several developments of cutting-edge technology over the years, mainly in military and aerospace. Notable examples include the Hannibal-3 satellite, and the advanced F-22 Raptor developed conjointly with Boeing."

Kurama checked the file, his eyes skimming over photos and overviews of the aforementioned crafts. All this and more, but even then, all of this was hardly revealing. The Armacham Technology Corporation was very notorious, even all the way in Japan, it was regarded as having the potential of Apple with the mystery of Area 51. Turning a few pages, he saw a printed newspaper article.

Armacham Whistleblower Disappears. Corporation Denies Involvement.

Rather than spend time reading the article, he glanced at the woman who no doubt already had.

"What's this article about a whistleblower?"

"His name is...was Norton Mapes. He was a software engineer for Armacham, and one of the survivors during the incident in Fairport, New York."

Kurama had been wondering when Shirakawa would bring up Fairport. These days, it was tough to bring up the company without discussing the catastrophic event that had happened many weeks ago. After all, it was the city that From what Kurama had seen on the news, the entire town had been devastated in a massive explosion that had been caused by a reactor explosion. Media placed the blame on saboteurs, anti-corporate activists that had gone too far, but details had been hazy, and even the countless numbers of grieving family members could not push through toward a satisfying amount of closure. The whole event screamed "cover-up."

"What happened?"

Mapes claimed to be involved in wiping many of Armacham's secrets when an incident went topside in Fairport. He was doing it all on behalf of Armacham's President, Genevieve Aristide."

Kurama's interest was growing more and more as he took all this in. "What did Armacham do?"

"Details are hazy, but apparently, their facility was attacked by an army led by (and I swear I'm not making this up), a cannibal."

Kurama blinked.

"That's what he claimed, anyway," said Shirakawa with a shrug, "But then he mentions a ghost named Alma Wade."

Kurama went behind his desk and sat down. Whatever revelations he was in for, it would be best if he was seated when he received them.

"Mapes describes Alma as some sort of phantom with psychokinetic abilities. She was able to influence the minds and perceptions of others and burn things by thought alone. Pyrokinesis, I believe it's called. Apparently, she wreaked havoc on both Armacham and the soldiers who were attacking them, so it's hard to see who's side she was on. Mapes wasn't clear on how the battle went, but my guess is that the explosion made everyone lose. Anyway, there's not much on how he vanished. Whoever Armacham hired was professional enough to not leave any trace."

"But why did Alma show up in Fairport? What's her connection with Armacham? And is she really a ghost?"

Shirakawa frowned, "Mapes claimed that Armacham was performing experiments on human beings. Highly unethical experiments that would make even the Nazi's proud. If I were to guess, Alma may have been a result of those experiments."

Kurama stared down at the contents of the file, his eyes skimming the article, picking up some phrases here and there: "Mass panic," "numerous casualties," "mass hysteria." Such pleasant topics.

"Send this file up to the chief," instructed Kurama, passing the folder across his desk to Shirakawa, "If he can't get in touch with Genevieve Aristide, then I doubt anyone can, and this lead won't count for anything."

Nyu paused, unsure of her surroundings. The last thing she could remember was heading up to her room, or rather, having Touka put her to bed. Now, she had woken up on a subway train. She sat up from her seat, the gentle vibrations of the moving carriage making it somewhat difficult to balance as she stood up. The train must have been moving in a tunnel, for she couldn't see anything outside the windows. The only source of light was the flickering bulbs on the train. Nyu stared ahead, almost sure she'd heard something from the door that linked the carriages. She moved forward slowly, grabbing onto the hand railings to keep her balance, and opened the door. There was a brilliant flash of light that made Nyu close her eyes, and when she opened them, the scene had changed.

Now, she was outside. The sights were brighter, the smells fresher. She could see people walking around, looking happy. She could see various creatures in cages, milling about and gazing out at the people with a dull curiosity. It all felt so...familiar.

We came here before. We were happy, once.

Alma looked around, trying to find who had spoken to her, and saw, through the crowd of people, a young girl looking at her with yellow eyes.

You know who I am. You need to remember.

Nyu frowned, clutching her head. There was this feeling in the back of her mind. An itchy, nasty feeling that promised pain and anguish. The world around her began to change as well. The metal on the cages began to rust, the sky turned a sickly orange, and everyone around her disintegrated into dust, until it was just her. Her and the girl.

Remember Lucy.

"...Nyu."

Remember!

"Nyuu!"

The words, piercing through her mind, caused the whole scene to melt away, as Nyu sat bolt upright in her bed. It was morning, and dim orange rays of light were shining through her window. She got up, still feeling frightened from her dream, and paused when she heard a familiar melody. She got up from her bed and stared quizzically at the music box that had been left at the foot of her bed, and the eerie melody felt-

A spindly arm grabbed her ankle from beneath the bed. Nyu let out a startled yelp as she fell to the ground. She turned toward who was grabbing her, and saw yellow eyes staring at her from the terrifying darkness that can only be found beneath beds.

Don't struggle! You know me!

But in that moment, all Nyu knew was panic and adrenaline. She yelled and struggled, kicking at the hand until it let go. The Diclonius scrambled to her feet and bolted out of the room.

Mayu paused outside of Maple House, her heart racing. Beside her was her little dog, Wanta, who looked up at her now, his tiny head tilted to the side as if to ask if this was a good idea, and honestly, Mayu wasn't sure. It had been a while since she had fled from her mother and the...monster that was her stepfather. She wasn't used to speaking to people outside of the woman at the bakery who regularly gave her bread crusts. She glanced down at the umbrella, which she gripped with tight, white knuckles. Inscribed on the handle was the kanji for Kaede House, and after a few days of searching, she had finally found the right address.

It's such a big house, she thought to herself as she walked up the steps toward the front door. Wanta followed close behind, panting at the exercise as he climbed up the stairs. Eventually, Mayu found herself before the door, ringing the bell and waiting; she did not wait long.

"Hello?"

A boy who looked to be several years older than Mayu had answered the door.

"Um...hi," answered Mayu in a soft, shy tone. She held out the umbrella with both hands, "I found this at the beach a few nights ago. The name led me hear."

"R-really?!" Mayu was taken aback by how surprised Kouta was. It was as if he believed that she'd found the umbrella on the moon.

"Is something wrong?" she asked. Kouta began to answer, but was interrupted when a pink-haired girl with a funny hat ran up to him from inside the house. "Nyu! Nyu!"

"Not now, Nyu!" said Kouta. He was trying to be patient, but sometimes having an enigmatic teenage girl with the personality of a toddler could be tiring. Who knew? After a brief struggle, he was finally able to get Nyu off of him. She ran out the door, nearly bowling Mayu over, and ran out into the courtyard. Mayu took in this whole scene, a small part of her wondering if this was some kind of act, like those hidden camera shows her mom sometimes watched.

"I'm sorry about that," said Kouta sheepishly, "She's been staying with us for awhile, and she tends to act up at times."

"...Oh." That was all Mayu could think to say at the moment.

"Anyway, there are some questions that I'd like to ask you about that night," continued Kouta. He stepped aside, "Could you please come in?"

Nana looked around, her mouth slack-jawed in nothing short of absolute wonder. Everything, every single little thing...was absolutely beautiful. She was standing where the helicopter had dropped her off, and had been enthralled as soon as she stepped off the platform. Growing up in a lab had been a very tortuous endeavor, with only thoughts of her Papa to sustain her through the many hours of dissections and vector exercises that she had endured. But she had discovered early on that pain was something you could adapt to. A body and mind can get used to pain, it can adapt to it. It can get to a point where one can almost feel uncomfortable without pain. And besides, no matter what she endured, she knew that her father would be waiting for her on the other side. It was the containment that really got to Nana, the isolation from the big world that she knew was out there, but which she could not see from her windowless cell. But now, here she was!

The plants! The structures! The smells! It was all so spacious and open, and now she was here, experiencing it all, seeing it all. It was so wonderful, everything she could see was so wonder-

"Hey, kid! What the heck are you doing here?"

Nana turned to the man who'd spoken to her, a man in his late twenties wearing baggy sweatpants and having slightly thinning hair. She beamed at him like he was her new best friend.

"Hello there, stranger! I'm Nana! What's your name?"

"None of your business! Why are you here?"

"I can't say precisely, but right now, I was just enjoying this lovely area! Isn't it amazing?"

The man looked around. The two of them were standing in a vacant lot in one of the poorer areas of Kamakura. There was a rusted chain-link fence on one side, a dull brick building on another, and a row of vacant buildings lining the other sides. He looked at Nana with a frown.

"You high?"

Nana giggled, "No silly, though I was. A helicopter brought me here, and it went really high!"

While the stranger tried to figure out what she had said, the mention of the helicopter made Nana pause. She had almost forgotten why she had been sent here. Touching the ribbon on her horns, a ribbon her father had given her from around his neck, Nana began heading toward the last reported spot of the missing Diclonius, making sure to wave goodbye to the nice man.

"Take care, mister. Have a wonderful day!"

The man watched her go with a puzzled frown, before turning away to look for potential customers. This china white wasn't going to sell itself.

"So, how far did our umbrella blow?" asked Kouta as he offered Mayu a seat in the living room of Maple House. Her little dog Wanta was waiting outside by the door.

"I found it half a mile down from this place," said Mayu as she looked around shyly. She'd almost forgotten what it had been like to sit in a house. She'd spent so long living outside with Wanta that being indoors felt strange to her, like an alternate dimension.

"Well, we're thankful that you came all this way to bring it back to us," said Yuka warmly. This made Mayu feel more secure about her surroundings, and she smiled softly.

"If you were out at the beach last night," continued Kouta, "Then would you mind telling me if you saw anything suspicious last night?"

Mayu thought back. "Well, I did see a man laying on the ground."

Kouta and Yuka exchanged a brief look. What had been a casual conversation was now something much more interesting.

Wanta yawned tiredly, settling down to rest by the big house. He'd had a long walk with his friend, and was looking forward to catching some rest in the shade. Or he was, before a strange scent caught his nose. It was a smell unlike anything he had ever sniffed. The bile smell of envy was overwhelming, as was the burning coppery scent of rage, and the salty scent that could only be sadness, all of which blended together to create a horrible odor that made Wanta's tiny tummy begin to churn. It wasn't that these scents were unfamiliar, he had just never smelled such a harsh magnitude of them, and as the bearer of this strong smell walked up to him on pale, bone-thin legs, Wanta began to tug on his leash and bark madly for his life.

"The man had his eyes gouged?" asked Kouta, his own eyes widening in shock, "How could he have left when you were gone if he couldn't see?"

"I don't know," said Mayu, who was once again feeling uncomfortable by how darkly this conversation had turned, "I told you, I-"

Wanta's loud barking made everyone pause in their conversation. Abruptly it stopped.

"Wanta?" called Mayu. There was no reply, and Mayu stood up, a look of concern on her face as she headed out. Kouta and Yuka exchanged a brief glance before following her outside, where they saw Mayu looking around with a frantic expression. By her feet was the cut half of a leash.

"He's gone!" she said, her eyes still searching, "Where could he-"

"Woof!"

All three of them turned in unison as a tiny white ball of fur ran up toward them and jumped into Mayu's outstretched arms.

"Wanta!" cried Mayu happily as the little dog licked her face, "Oh, I was so worried!"

She paused in her reverie as she noticed the torn bit of leash dangling from her dog's collar. "Did you chew your way through this boy?"

Wanta barked, and Mayu, who had spent plenty of time with her pet and knew him well, could tell that something had spooked him. Something that could still be around here. Suddenly Mayu didn't want to be at Maple House anymore. She turned towards Kouta and Yuka.

"Um, I should probably be heading out now. Need to mend Wanta's leash."

"If you find out anything else, will you tell us?" asked Kouta.

Mayu paused a moment before nodding briefly, then turned and headed out, walking at a brisk pace with Wanta still in her arms.

"She seemed spooked," observed Yuka.

"Yeah," said Kouta, his expression grave, "That seems to be happening a lot around here."

Nana stared incredulously at the pink-haired girl huddled by the steps downstairs from her. They were out by the stairs near the beaches, the noonday sun shining down upon them in a warmth that Nana had always longed for, and it only served to increase her happy mood. She had found the Diclonius! Her Papa was going to be so proud! This might even be the day that she is finally allowed to hug him. Giggling warmly, she proceeded down the stairs towards the Diclonius, pulling out the radio that her father gave her.

"This is Nana," she spoke into the receiver, "I've-"

Something wet splashed against Nana's face, causing her to pause mid-speech. She looked at where the radio had been, and made the observation that there was nothing more than a severed stump pumping blood onto her face. She looked up at the haggard woman with angry red eyes, but before she could scream, the creature had grabbed her and thrown her up past the stairs, into the nearby cemetery. Tombstones broke apart as Nana crashed through them.

Alma turned toward Lucy, making sure her friend hadn't fled, before turning back and heading up the stairs towards Nana. This was going to be fun.

Another chapter up and ready! I know this one was a bit of a cliffhanger, but I promise the next update won't take as long. Anyway, I want to clarify that this story will not be a Lucy/Alma ship. I like them better as friends. So please leave a good review, and I'll see you all in the next update. PEACE!