Shizuru.
Kazuma never mentioned what he was saving her from that day, just that she was in trouble. Of course, I never asked her. That was her business and if she wanted to share it, then so be it. But I had assumptions. And my assumptions were often right—or, at least, close.
Aiko was in this for justice, to thwart how Reikai treated youkai. I wondered why Yukina didn't want a more active role. I knew she couldn't fight, so that was out of the question. Her healing, though, would be beneficial outside of training.
"Is something wrong, Shizuru?"
"Oh." I looked away from Yukina, who was leaning towards me on the small dinner table, and back down to my grilled fish. She returned to her seat across from me. The tatami mat below the soft pillow she sat on creaked quietly as she settled back. "Just spaced out, don't worry about it."
Maya and Miyuki had already finished their dinner and were napping out in the open hallway. The shoji doors were open, letting in a soft breeze. The wind whistled through the trees in the forest, rustling leaves and bushes alike.
The wind was colder. Sending chills down my spine and prickling goosebumps along my skin. I thought briefly that the goosebumps were in anticipation but knew better. Tread lightly and speak kindly.
We were silent throughout the rest of the meal, but part of me had to at least ask. When she set her chopsticks atop her empty bowl, I dove in casually.
"You know why Aiko's here, right?"
She gave me a look that lasted less than a second but was clear as day. A look that said "I've been in this longer than you have; of fucking course I do."
Instead, with her grace and politeness, she replied. "To find out what Reikai is doing with its barrier sector."
"Oh." I took another bite and finished off the fish as I thought how to word it. Something simple to swallow—as simple as bringing this up could get, at least. "Then, you're fine with just helping during training?"
She looked away from me, a bland look in her vermillion eyes. "I would like to do more, but I feel like I'd get in the way. Even being present when there's combat would require me to know how to defend myself. Otherwise, I'm just a burden to everyone around.
"To reach the level everyone is at now would take a long time for me," she continued. "Plus, I don't know if I would be okay with hurting someone."
"Even if they're complacent about the abuse?"
Her eyes lowered to the empty plate in front of her. "I try to understand why someone would be. At the tower, a lot of guards were there because it paid for their food. Kept a roof over their family's head. They didn't do it because they wanted to, but because they lived in a system that forced them to."
I felt my brows knit together. "So you forgive them?"
"No," she said. "They never asked for my forgiveness; they never apologized. They don't deserve it. But I understand that not everyone wanted to do the things they did to me. Not everyone found pleasure in my pain. It was survival of the fittest, and my breed was failing to adapt properly to the world. Nothing excuses what they did, but I understand why they may have done those things. Not necessarily out of hatred, but out of selfishness."
That was when I saw the girl my brother loved so much. I knew her before, but never really understood—not like this, not until now. Brave, considerate, merciful. Righteous anger directed to those who deserved it and nobody more.
"That's not to say I wouldn't like to help more," Yukina sighed. "Something just feels like it's missing for me in this. I don't feel I can do much more than I already am."
"That's fine, Yukina," I reassured. "What you do for us now is more than enough. Training would be delayed; nobody would be at the strength they are now to do what they need to." She gave me a grateful smile. "Don't feel like you aren't enough, Yukina. I was only curious."
I feared for those who wronged her. Had Yukina ever made the choice to bring justice to them, had she made the choice to join us in combat, her wrath would be merciless.
Kurama.
They were growing much faster than anticipated. Using Yomi's measurements, they were nearing a power level of one hundred thousand faster than expected. It was an expectation based solely upon Genkai's intense training. Genkai spent more time helping them than she did Aiko, which, thankfully, Aiko understood. Genkai could give them the proper training she was accustomed to. With Aiko, she had to hold back tremendously.
Soft yet sturdy arms wrapped around my neck and rested upon my shoulders.
Aiko rested her head upon mine. "How're things coming along?"
"Surprisingly well," I replied. "Much better than I anticipated. I knew the results would be fast, but they're coming along faster than I expected."
"How much longer until you can take them to Yomi?"
"Perhaps a month," I said. "Maybe even sooner, at this rate."
She hummed. "The weather's getting so cold. Maybe the first snowfall will be early this year."
We stared out from our spot in the open hallway, noticing the dying leaves. Many of the species in the forest didn't shed in the winter, but enough did to give an autumn atmosphere before the first snowfall.
The air brushing past us these past few weeks was becoming colder and sharper, leaving a sting on the skin. Genkai's regimes, though, made the temperature the last thing on one's mind. Rain, which used to only show itself at night, now crept into the daylight hours more and more often. While the mornings used to be the only one covered in dew, the wetness lingered throughout the day now. Breath slithered out of warm mouths in clouds, floating through the air for a while.
It would have been comforting had we not had discerning schedules.
"Have you decided a day for your mission?" I asked, turning slightly to meet her face more.
"Yeah." She gave an exaggerated sigh. "Apparently, every so often Natsume and Hayashi have this ass-buddy thing Fukui isn't allowed to join. The dealership will be free."
"The Dark Tournament shouldn't be until mid-December, right?"
"Oh, yeah. It's not that, because…" she yawned. "Supposedly, you guys fucked up the island last year and they're still doing repairs. It was pushed back a couple months until all the stadiums are available."
"The finals' stadium was ruined, yes," I laughed. "The rest of the island must have faced some damage as a result as well, I suppose."
"Well, it's pushed off, but I don't know what Natsume and Hayashi are doing by themselves. But it's the only chance we'll have to get in the dealership alone." She pulled away and moved to sit next to me.
"Do you think our days will fall together?" I looked down at her, and she pulled her knees to her chest.
Resting her head on them, she shrugged. "Probably. I don't have a clear date, but if you're saying they'll be ready around the same time, I don't doubt it. That's how our lives work."
"Regardless of when they're ready, just tell me the date and I'll stay—"
"No," she cut me off curtly, not even bothering to make eye contact. "I can't have you here for this one. Not this one."
"At least you seem aware of how dangerous this is." The words came out harsher than expected, but she, of course, retorted with some just as cold.
"Well, it'd be a shame for everything I've done to keep you off their radar to go to waste."
Still, she never broke eye contact with the forest ahead of us. In the ugly silence we created, neither of us backed down. Stubborn with convictions, apologies were lost on still tongues. Clouds traveled through the sky with the sun, and colors blended together, darkening. Finally, the color became a milky black.
It was a problem between us—more so with her: obstinacy. Apologizing meant taking back her words, and she meant them. Though, admittedly, the intention of those words were not as harsh as they seemed. She knew it was the same for me.
Countless times throughout the night I caught brown eyes lingering on me. A heavy presence, pressuring the both of us to speak first.
"Get over the petty teenage lover's quarrel and finish your chores," Genkai snapped at one point, earning small huff from Aiko as she scurried out of the room. "And you." She turned on me next with an annoyed glower, which I in turn tried to alleviate with a faux cheerful smile. "I know you worry about her so you spend your free time here instead of up at the temple, but this isn't a dorama." *
"Yes, Genkai." I kept the smile, as there was no need insulting the old woman in her own home.
Beady eyes lingered on me for a moment longer before she too left the room.
"Her favorite is Tokyo Love Story," Maya quipped quietly as she passed by the open shoji doors with a pile of blankets in her hands. "Though she doesn't admit it." **
I found myself laughing as Maya disappeared down the hallway, and soon, as the silence became too irritable, I found myself near the kitchen. Aiko was washing dishes from dinner. The steam floated up from the sink to coat her face, and she pretended to not noticed me in the hallway.
Still, an icy shoulder as I dried the dishes next to her—emphasized by the scalding hot water that splashed onto me as she moved ceramic and silver. But, instead of setting the wet dishes to the side, she'd hand them directly to me.
As the last was dried and placed into the rack, my hand gently rested under her jaw, my thumb slowly rubbing her cheek. There was no eye contact, but also no anger at the touch; she walked past me without a word. Before I set foot off the temple grounds for the night, her hand caught my jacket. I turned to meet sad eyes, which I returned with a similar smile. Apologies weren't always verbal with her—something the both of us could appreciate with our obstinacy.
Aiko.
"Are you done yet?" Fukui asked, watching me zip up my boot awkwardly. She sat next to me in the back seat of the car, resting her head in her hand and her elbow on the window. I glared up at her, exasperated. "Honestly, I've never seen anything more stupid."
"I'm not bringing anything down here that can be traced," I snapped, opening the car door. Like hell was I going to bring my compact down there if I was likely to be caught. I stepped out, putting my dominant foot first, and limped gently to the sidewalk from the curb.
"I told you your compact would work fine," she mumbled, appearing from the other end of the car.
"I'm not bringing anything down here that can be traced," I grumbled. I sounded like a broken record; it had to be the fifteenth time I said that tonight. "Remember our story?"
"Your sprained your ankle trying to wear six inch heels while drunk."
"Good."
"This is stupid," she sighed.
"Are you sure?" Maya hissed. "That's suicide! Let me at least watch like last time!"
"I'm not having her know any of my ties until she's proved she can be trusted."
"And if you're ambushed?"
"Then I'm the only one ambushed."
It was a full moon tonight. No clouds. Just a black sky and a bright, round orb floating lonely around in it. The air was cold, and my cardigan wasn't enough to keep me warm. I knew, though, that once in the camp again, I'd be fine. I'd warm right up.
"You don't expect me to trust you fully, do you?" I asked.
She paused, glancing over to me before leaning against the trunk.
"Besides," I continued. "If you guys would just have some kind of damn copy machine down there, I wouldn't have to limp."
"I told you there's one in the dealership offices."
"Yes. I'm going to walk past the guards once to get the files, again to go upstairs and photo copy them, and a third time to come back down with the originals in tow. And then when its all said and done, I have to pass them a fourth time to get the prisoner out, come back down to—"
"Well, hiding a disposable camera in your shoe is probably the dumbest thing I've seen next to that idea."
"Where else am I going to hide it? Up my ass?"
"With the way you're trying me, I could make it work."
"Well, what are you going to do when you free someone?" Maya pressed. "You can't take them home. And if you're worried about Fukui and Ryuunosuke knowing about us, you can't have them come back here!"
"I'll figure a way."
"The train station will be closed by then! You can't walk! What if they're injured—what if you're injured? You can't make it here walking from your place!"
"I'll call you when things have panned out, then. Okay? I'll figure a place for Fukui to dump me and the prisoner, and then I'll call for someone."
"Just have her drop you off in the little town at the last train stop." I took it into consideration, but she took it as a pause of confusion to throw around the name we gave it. Not one of us in the temple had bothered to actually pay attention to the station's name we got off at—it was the last stop, and that was all that registered with us for some reason. "Transition town."
"Well, if I actually trusted you and Ryuunosuke, then a lot of things would go a lot smoother tonight." I steadied my balance and shifted my weight off the camera. I tapped the trunk of the car and looked to the driver's seat through the back window. "Ready? Remember your role?"
The silhouette of a feminine hand gave me a sturdy thumbs-up. With a deep, deep inhale, I puffed out my chest. I shifted awkwardly and felt the plastic bag of powder press against my mound under my underwear. With the exhale, we headed towards the dealership's workshop.
The keys were different for the main office and the workshop, letting Fukui enter on her own if she so wished. She never did, she assured me. "Why the hell would I want to come back here?"
The break-room smelled like vanilla coffee creamer and cigarettes. I relished the comforting smells, pretending I wasn't here, as Fukui slipped her hand into the little dent behind the potted plant. A small flash of light, and then she pulled the door open. Anxiety churned in my stomach as we descended the stairs. It took much longer than it should have, with my awkwardly filled shoe. I could feel my foot going numb, being cramped into the damn thing. I picked the thinnest, smallest camera on the market and my toes still wanted to fall off.
Two guards, likely the same as before. I couldn't tell yet again, as the lighting shielded the top of their faces. They had no visibly distinguishing marks I could find. I was thankful they did their job fast, and it remained a job. Their hands didn't linger too long nor did their grip tighten when it shouldn't.
I physically signed in, watching the red light scan my palm with hidden dismay.
"What's wrong with you?"
I looked to one of the men, surprised. "What?"
"You're limping."
I forced a socially amiable laugh. "Oh, I sprained my ankle the other day. I'm fine."
The other man, next to him, frowned. "You shouldn't be here then. It'll swell."
Strange. For some reason, I thought they were robots or something. They stood here day in and day out and watched as interrogators came and went. Surely they weren't the same men, right? I didn't think they cared much anymore to make conversation. Guess it was pretty boring if they wanted to chat up the ugly fucks that wandered down here every so often.
"It's okay," I reassured with a smile, and softened my voice. Looking to the ground with sorrowful eyes, I picked a role. "I didn't want to wait much longer. I was told another youkai was arrested for breaking their contract. It's someone I have personal business with."
Fukui interjected. "He should be in 0-9-8-C, right? That's where they took the newest batch."
The one who had just shown me concern reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small notebook. Flipping it open, he scanned the paper. "Yes, that's right, Miss Hitomi."
"Thank you." She bowed slightly and then held her hand out for me to take. "Come on, you've been waiting for this day."
With a small, feeble smile, I took her hand and she guided me down the hallway. Out of their sight, we dropped our hands along with the façade.
"We're not going to 0-9-8-C, are we?" I asked.
"It's all the same to me," she replied. "Each room will have prisoners, old and new. It doesn't matter what room we pick so long as we can pull off the switch."
I still hadn't asked what the switch was. Part of me didn't really want to. I just wanted to be told what to do and when to do it. In-the-moment kind of things made me anxious. But it was a hell of a lot better than giving my anxiety time to think of every little thing that could possibly go wrong by planning ahead.
"Problem is…" she continued. "Once we pick a room, that's the room we stay in. It's suspicious to jump around rooms, especially with the sob story we gave back there."
"What about clearance for you?"
She shrugged. "If it opens when I swipe my card that means there's no high profile case inside."
"And if it doesn't open and the swipe is recorded?"
She forced a laugh. "Oops, silly me! I got the numbers mixed up."
"Bravo. You should have gone into acting as your major."
"I could say the same for you," she scoffed. "That fucking drama queen shit you pulled back there was disgusting. I almost bought it."
"Thank you, I tried."
154C was closer to the security check than the last room I'd been to. Still fairly far for winding through the hallways, but moving would be easier. Fukui swiped her card, and the two of us waited to hear the lock switch. It clicked slowly and the door sluggishly opened.
I paused at the desk to unzip my boot and hide the camera on the desk. Being able to walk without a fake limp was freeing. I shoved it behind the computer monitor.
The layout was the same as the last room I'd been in. Fukui led me into the extraction room, but instead of the weapons room on the left, she headed to the other door. It sat on the back wall, nearest the right corner.
We passed the chair—I couldn't look at it; my eyes stayed glued to her back. My stomach churned regardless. My heart pained. My eyes stung. This had to be the last time I stepped foot down here to do this. I couldn't do it again. She opened the door, and a putrid smell overpowered my sense of smell. I gagged; my nostrils burned. Rotten flesh. Despite my head screaming for me to leave, I followed her inside the dark room. It was too late for cold feet now. If I wanted to back out I should've done so back in the car.
The dim light flickered on slowly. Flashes of the room flickered by briefly. A desolate room, with paint-chipped, moldy walls and floors. Long, narrow. Huddled masses rested against the walls. The rustling of metal chains echoed around us.
Fukui continued deeper into the room, waving her hand to the walls dismissively. "Pick one."
At the sound of her voice, the huddled masses looked towards us. Dozens of unnaturally discolored, bloodshot eyes scanned us. Many eyes were tired—too tired to hate, too tired to care if they were next. But there were some. Some were still angry enough to let it show. Some were still filled with fear.
"How are we switching them?" I asked, scanning the youkai.
I preferred someone small. Easy to hide. Easy to carry, if needed.
"Here." She stopped walking in a corner at the far end of the room, in front of a pile that reached her waist in height. I stepped up behind her, and the pile she'd stopped in front of froze me. Dead bodies. I swallowed the stomach acid creeping up my throat.
"We don't keep track of dead bodies, really," she said. "Some interrogators have a knack for cremating them alive. No point in keeping track unless it's high profile."
"Just make sure the body resembles the vic we check out, right?" I tightened my throat to keep my nerves from showing.
"Right."
She turned on her heels and headed for the door. "I'll trust your judgement and let you pick one. I'll set up the room."
I nodded and looked at the pile. I was more than reluctant to start digging. With a deep breath, I scanned the walls where the prisoners were. Most pushed themselves against it, as if trying to blend in and become invisible, when my gaze landed on them. Ideally not taller than me or too much heavier than me, I thought as I looked around. Ignoring the accusing gazes, I avoided the urge to defend myself—reassure them I was on their side. I was going to help.
Don't leave any clues behind.
What felt like a thousand hateful eyes on me bored into my skin as I walked around the room. Finally, my gaze set upon what looked like a child. A little older than Minoru, at least appearance-wise. He'd be easy to move around. He glared up at me, as a low growl emitted from the bottom of his throat. My gaze lingered too long; he knew he was chosen.
I set back to the pile and my stomach churned at the thought of searching for a replacement. Clasping my hands together to stop their shaking, I asked for forgiveness from the dead. Then, with a heavy heart, I began shoving their corpses aside.
I spent what felt like hours digging through rotting corpses and suppressing the urge to vomit. I'd become almost numb to seeing a maggot squirm across my hand after the sixth time it happened. Eventually, after I passed the same corpses again and again, it dawned on me. There was no double to switch with him.
The door creaked open again and Fukui called out to me. "You ready?"
"There's no body," I called back, scanning them once more. The closest one that could pass was missing an arm. "I'll pick another, I guess," I mumbled to myself as Fukui stepped up behind me.
"Who's your first pick?" she asked.
I nodded over my shoulder, still eyeing the bodies. "That kid over there."
"Did you find one that was close enough, though?"
I nodded. "Yeah, but it's missing an arm."
"I can fix that," she said simply, and she turned towards the kid. "Drag the body over to the door. You, up."
I paused. What did she mean…? I didn't ask. Didn't think. I needed to get this done and get out. Complete this. Nobody gets caught.
I dragged the body into the extraction room and let the heavy door slam closed after the body slid out. The body was of a young, fleshy boy. Light magenta skin with a smooth head—no horns. I peeked over my shoulder to see the victim in better lighting. His skin color almost passed for human ranges—except it still had a sickly green tint to it. That could be attributed to living here, though. He had two horns on his forehead; they were small and mimicked the devil from English folklore.
He sat in the chair without straps to hold him in place. Next to him was a gas canister—the same kind I saw Natsume use that night. I turned away and took a deep breath to calm my nerves, to push away the memory.
I walked over to Fukui as she stepped up to the boy. She grabbed his head and dug at the tattered burgundy shirt's collar to push it to the side and expose his neck. The prisoners wore whatever clothes they came in with, I supposed. His burgundy shirt and torn black shorts didn't seem like typical prisoner attire. I didn't pay attention to the other prisoner's clothing but I didn't recall similarities.
Her hand harshly ruffled his matted, short black hair. She jerked his head to the side.
"In the file cabinet from the observation room," she ordered. "Find the folder with the docket starting with I and ending with 4-6-9." They branded them… "Log it in on the computer for check out and then you can copy it."
She removed her hands before digging in her pocket to pull out a hair tie. As she scooped her hair atop her head, I looked warily between the kid and her.
"How are you going to fix it?" I found myself asking.
I didn't want to know but… I did. I did. I knew what it was. For some reason I wanted to hear it. To torture myself? Make this more real for me? I didn't know.
"I'm going to chop his arm off," she replied and he glowered at her from his seat. "And then burn the corpse and his arm to make it pass." She looked over to me. "Why? Did you want to do it?"
I didn't want it to happen to begin with…
"That's what I thought," she said as I made my way to the observation room. I did my best to keep my stride from faltering, my legs from shaking. "You don't need blood on your hands." As I opened the door, her voice was faint. "What's one more life ruined by me anyway?"
There was one hand around my throat and another around my heart as I let the door close behind me. I had to do this, I reminded myself. This had to happen. This had to happen.
Sacrifice a few to save many. It had to happen.
Hurt him to free him. It had to happen.
Ruin him to free him. It had to happen.
It had to happen.
It had to happen. I marched over to the file cabinet and remembered the numbers Fukui rattled off. Picking out the slender manila folder, I moved to the chair at the desk and turned on the sleeping computer.
I looked at the foreign object, unfamiliar with the sleek technology. It was nothing like the hunks of metal we had at school.
My eyes betrayed me as I waited for the screen to load, they looked through the observation window. Luckily, Fukui hadn't started yet. She nonchalantly held what seemed to be a machete by her side as she stared down at the youkai boy. Her lips moved; they were talking. At least, she was.
The color of the screen's light changed and dragged my eyes back to the monitor. I soon figured out how to work the system to check him out. Still sitting in the comfortable computer chair, I reached behind the screen to feel for the camera.
Turning the round switch, it clicked on. It withstood my weight and walking... I stood from the chair to get a better angle of the files. For some reason, I urged myself to make a note of his name. Part of me didn't want to know it, but I knew I should. There was no reason for me to keep distancing myself from him. As much as I wanted to separate myself from him and the pain I'd cause him... My eyes moved anyway.
Nagisa.
I glanced up to the window again, and looked away just as quickly as I saw Fukui raising the bloody weapon. Bloody sprayed everywhere from the silver as it flew in the air, ready to hack down once more. She had him held down as he tried pulling away. Just a few more pages to go… A few more pages to go.
The flash irritated me, burned my eyes, but I wouldn't get a clear picture without it. Letting my eyes refocus and adjust to the dim lighting each time, I finally flipped over to the back of the last page. Then, a soft click came from behind me. Loud, familiar, but soft. I froze. Was that...?
Something small, hard, and cool pressed against the back of my head. My knees went stiff, my arms numb, and my head blank.
"Drop the camera," a familiar voice—one that seemed so sincere only a while ago—said. There was a twinge of amusement in his voice. "I knew something was strange."
My hands went up in the standard compliant position, unable to urge my body to follow his command. The camera was still in my clutched fist. Blood pulsed through my ears loudly, rapidly. Each pulse shook my sight, blurred the files my eyes still glued to.
This couldn't be happening. This couldn't be happening. I couldn't have gotten caught.
"Who are you working for?" he asked, and a thick click followed afterwards. "And with?"
I can't be caught. I can't have ruined this entire operation. I can't die—not like this. Not without a fight.
"I said drop the camera!" he barked, not bothering to wait for any answer. Fingers still pressed as they were when taking the photos, I wondered if I could pull it off. "Dr—"
My grip loosened, the camera began slipping in angle still in my fingers. I pressed the button, the flash went off. I swung my elbow back as the gunshot rang through my ears.
A/N:
* Dorama is what fans call their Japanese drama tv shows, similar to how "novella" is derived from tele novella.
** Tokyo Love Story is a 1991 dorama and the plot… is literally in the title lmfao. Also based off a manga, apparently.