Chapter 8

Kokufu swallowed the bile burning his throat. He knew that sound over the walkie talkie. Gunfire, the impact of the bullets smacking into flesh, the gurgle of breaths through blood. Not that he had witnessed it in real life outside of movies. No, he had heard that very same sequence from the brilliant detectives in the id wells. Only this time, over that speaker, he knew—those deaths were real.

Behind the desk, Hirai reclined and swiveled back and forth. His eyes distant as he smiled. Smiling after delivering a threat about funeral planning? Yeah, this was normal.

"Commander." Kokufu kept his voice quiet, he had given up trying to get loose from the zip tie cuffs they had put him in. "Your men mean a lot to you, don't they."

"My men are hardened and loyal." He didn't even shift his eyes.

"Loyalty." Kokufu let the word hang in the air, the hardest part was not knowing how utterly unhinged this man was, he had to guess if there was a chance to reason with him. God knew they had some deranged inmates down in the prison, and all it would take was the wrong word to set some of them off. "Such an important attribute. We value that very highly here at Kura."

Suddenly his eyes focused on Kokufu, burning with an intense humor. "You do? I find that hard to believe considering it was your own fired security personnel who told me everything I needed to know to break in here."

His breath caught in his throat.

"And do you know what it cost me? Do you know the price of Kura?" Hirai held up four fingers. "Two beers a piece for them. That was it. Every single detail down to that Wellside which you screwballs used to catch people. There's no point in me looking through the premises. I already know what I want is gone, disposed of some time ago. Admittedly they could have been more selective in their words. But they are civilians after all. None of this will matter soon enough."

Kokufu stiffened at the tone of his voice, so calm and sure. That was the most dangerous to deal with.

A man stood in the doorway and threw a firm salute. "You asked for me, sir?"

"Sergeant." Hirai rested his chin in his hand, elbow on the armrest. "I tire of this retched bureaucrat. Everything is ready. Take him to our little surprise and secure him there for the finale. Oh, and prepare the men for the final phase. It's almost time."

"Sir." He threw another stiff salute before sweeping down and grabbing Kokufu by the arm, hauling him up to his feet. "Move it, white-collar. Nice and swift like.

Glancing over his shoulder, Kokufu shivered at the steady gaze of the sergeant. How utterly mechanical he seemed, almost robotic as he carried out the orders. A true military man. He wondered for a moment how long it had been since he had a thought of his own, if he was even capable of that as they descended the stairwell.

~ID~

Minutes had passed since the slap of Narihisago's shoes against the floor had faded into silence. Momoki sat on the floor staring at his open hands in disbelief. What had he done? He was still plagued by the twitch in Narihisago's eyes as he'd pleaded, an undeniable visible tick of his welling psychosis, a sign of how sick he truly was behind the melancholy veneer. He could still hear the tremor in Narihisago's voice as he gave in to his despicable urge. He could still feel the sensation of the fabric from Narihisago's shirt sliding through his loosening fingers … as he released him.

Momoki had let him go. Knowing full well what he had unleashed, he had been the final barrier keeping that impulse at bay. He had willed his fingers to relax the death grip. Consciously, he had let him … the next word was one he couldn't even let fully form. That was the reason that Kura existed. To locate them, to separate these deviants from society, to keep people safe.

At this moment, one of them ran full tilt through the halls of Kura to commit once again.

Momoki closed his eyes. A heavy weight growing painful in his chest.

A hand rested on his shoulder. He inhaled and caught the scent of Togo's perfume. She knelt down beside him. "Don't go there."

"Where … ?"

"Where you are in your mind right now. I can see it on your face. You're doubting your decision." Her hand tightened. "He was right. This wasn't a choice, and you shouldn't shoulder it."

"But I … "

"Let him take this. Narihisago can handle it. He is trying to spare you. That alone shows us all something. Something you once told me. No matter what he says, he's not gone … that man behind the pariah … that's the one who's risking everything to save all of us."

"Why this way? Togo, every time he does this, I know what it does to him, how it changes him! He's darker after embracing this side."

She stared Momoki in the eyes. "Darkness shows us the light. And right now, there is no other way, unless you want us all to die at the hands of a rogue ex-soldier. Kiki gave Narihisago the key, and for this process, only one will is necessary to commit. That will … is his."

She was right, even though he didn't want to face it. Slowly, Momoki climbed to his feet, making for the doorway. "Not alone. I won't let him do this alone."

~ID~

Getting caught by one of the roaming ex-soldiers in an elevator was not something Narihisago relished. Perhaps that had more to do with a left over bad vibe from numerous dives into an id well involving malfunctioning elevators. How many times did he get limbs severed by the doors shutting randomly? Including decapitations?

A rippling shudder struck him as a thought formed. Just how many normal everyday events would now be tarnished by the shit I've seen in the id wells? I mean, I know those are just surreal images … but even just glancing at the elevator door was enough to repel me.

He abandoned that path as the elevator descended the floors, someone was using it which proved his nagging hunch right. He dashed through the stairwell doors and started up the steps, listening at each flight in case he suddenly wasn't alone. Not that he cared if a rogue bullet ended his miserable life, it just couldn't happen before he found Hirai. This was a rather strange feeling, rather like stalking prey. Narihisago allowed the wry grin as the familiar maelstrom of emotions swirled, anger drove his every step toward the balm of pleasure. But there was something he wasn't used to. Movement. The freedom of more than a handful of square footage, the quiet thunder of his pulse in his ears as he physically climbed the floors towards the chief's office. Kiki had even known that was how he would climb the stories—she had shown him this very path.

She knew him so well. She knew that he had what it took to end this without the loss of innocent lives. She knew damn well as he did what a fuckhead that prick up there was and that he was about get a lesson he wouldn't walk away from.

His footsteps hardly echoed as he walked toward the chief's open office door. Narihisago's heart beat steadily, his breathing calm. Frighteningly calm. A portion of his mind registered the wrongness—he was about commit a form of murder. The rest of his brain told that part it had no business here. Light pouring through the office window cast Narihisago's shadow out into the hall as he filled the doorway, his motionless eyes took in the military figure seated in the chair, back lit like a man on a stage.

Tooru Hirai. Narihisago knew him the moment he laid eyes on the man. The stiff, proud bearing forged into a soldier left the tell tale marks that no lack of uniform could defy. Hirai glanced up at the door only the briefest flash of alarm in his eyes before he mastered it.

That didn't surprise Narihisago for a multitude of reasons. For one he doubted he looked a threat at all, knowing what his recent appearance brought to mind. A skate park reject … how very descriptive. Thanks for that mental image, Wakashika. Yet, he couldn't even deny it. Who would be worried about that kind of a persona? For another reason, the man in the chair had seen war. A single opponent in his ego's eyes could not possibly pose a threat.

He might be surprised.

Purposefully, with his hands relaxed at his sides, Narihisago walked into the center of the room, making certain not to block the doorway. He stood behind the chairs intended for the chief's guests. The only motion he took was a quick sweeping glance to confirm that they were in fact alone here.

Kokufu was not in the room. There was no time to consider what that could mean. That was alright, actually. He didn't really want Kokufu to watch this. He didn't want anyone else to watch this. A part of him that he now utterly despised, but in this moment was a necessary evil.

Hirai folded his hands over his rifle. "Who are you?"

Narihisago kept his gaze slightly lower, fixed on Hirai's chest. Non-threatening, a show of respect, false though it might be. "No one." A mere monotone whisper.

A flat chuckle escaped Hirai as he flipped a hand. "Now, that's what I like. A civie that knows his place."

Holding his tongue, Narihisago didn't correct him over the fact that inmates were hardly considered civilians.

Hirai stretched his arms back, full relaxation on display. "You work here?"

"Yes." That was no lie.

"You happy here?"

"No." That wasn't either.

Hirai's eyebrow raised. "Let me guess, janitorial staff, tired of cleaning up after the mess the white-collars make, eh. Well, I'm about to become your best friend."

Narihisago eyes narrowed by a fraction. "Friend. An interesting word from a man like you."

He lifted his chin, a finger inching toward the trigger of the rifle across his lap. "Excuse me?"

"What does it mean to you?"

Hirai smirked. "You do realize I am in charge of this building."

"Friend—what does it mean to you?"

"Heh, you're a stubborn one, ain't yah." He heaved a sigh. "Let's go to kindi-garten , if that's what you want to do. Friends stick by one another, got each others backs, thick or thin."

A twitch in the corner of Narihisago's mouth. How swiftly he fell in without even realizing it. Keep wading in until it's too deep … like the quick sand. "If you say so."

"I do. I've had squads of friends."

"Squads." Narihisago nodded slowly. "More than one."

"You slow or something? Yeah, that's what the 's' at the end means, plural."

Holding up a hand, Narihisago kept his voice that chilling even tone, creeping like a killing frost. "I wonder what Huyukawa feels about you?"

There it was, a tightening of Hirai's eyes. "No way of knowing. He's dead because of this place."

He couldn't quite banish the smile, he hid it by looking down at his feet. "Oh, what a shame. Tell me, did it hurt when you lost your hype man?"

Hirai's jaw tightened, he sat forward, leaning over the desk as if he intended to vault over it.

"I imagine it would be difficult to spin things when the world looks at you as nothing but a shame to the uniform." Narihisago watched him through the strands of hair, studied him as the words bored in tensing his muscles, driving his pulse up, the words stabbed at the raw nerves repeatedly hitting their mark like torturous drops of water nailing the same spot. Insidious. "Huyukawa, a true friend, even though he was in another squad that day. A squad that was decimated. Hell, he was more than just a friend, wasn't he. To you, he was the best thing in the world—a hero-worshiper building you your own pedestal."

Hirai lifted the rifle aiming it Narihisago's chest. "You sound just like them! What does a civie like you know!"

Oh, more than enough to destroy you, soldier boy. "Those in service are called on to be more responsible than the average citizen. We have been trained, we are supposed to know better."

A huffed breath escaped him. But then he narrowed one eye. "Wait a minute … we? You don't act like a soldier."

"That's because I wasn't." Narihisago continued in a measured tone, banishing any hint of the pain dancing this close to his own truth caused him. "There are more services than the military. But the responsibility is the same. To protect the innocent."

"Innocent?" He spat, the gun's muzzle flailed as he ranted. "We were the innocent ones! We were the ones who weren't understood. That sham of a court martial! That bombing saved lives, yet they called what we'd done war crimes. We were heroes!"

"A bombing that took out several nearby squads. Don't they call that 'friendly fire' when that happens? What's friendly about that? A bombing that warped the mind of an impressionable young Huyukawa who photographed your squad celebrating your victories."

"You weren't there. No civilian will ever understand war and what we did by destroying that nest of evil."

"Nest of evil?" A hollow laugh escaped Narihisago. "Is that how you view women, children, families huddled in their homes just trying to see the end of the day?"

His lip curled. "There were guilty ones. There were future terrorists among them."

"Ah, there's the word I was waiting for, oh mighty hero … Tell me, what is the difference between a hero and a terrorist?" Narihisago's eyes stared toward the rays of sunlight filtering at an angle through the blinds. He could only imagine what that did to his jade eyes.

Hirai's hand twitched near the trigger, his aim faltering as his brain grappled with the pounding question.

"Don't injure yourself thinking about it. I'll tell you the answer." He blinked slowly, rather like a viper hypnotizing its prey. "The difference between a hero and a terrorist—is whose lens he's standing in. Friend or foe."

"No … it's black and white!"

"Even if that were true … "

"It is true!" He shook his head. "Like before, I'm standing against the greater evil! That area was full of vile people intent on spreading hatred!"

Oh the irony.

"And here, in this building! Kura is an evil organization. Only an evil organization would have killed an artist like Huyukawa."

"The Pyrotechnician. You do realize, inspired by your little war stunt, he made elaborate bombs just so he could photograph the people watching their destructive power. Your inspiration, your 'friendship' twisted and warped his mind into that of a mass murderer who completely dismissed the value of life."

"No!" Hirai gripped his rifle firmer. "That's not true."

"Trust me. His shallow view of the world bathed in blood lead to his breathless end. Now … I remind you, Commander, we who are called to service are held to higher responsibility. Even more so when you lead and are responsible for the dismissal of an entire squad for war crimes."

"They weren't war crimes!" His pulse throbbed in the vein on his neck. Pupils twitching with each beat like a hammer pounded them.

Narihisago closed his eyes and covered one with his hand. "A young girl in a floral print dress, light blue like the morning sky. She wore a scarf over her head and gripped in her arms was a terrified young boy in a brown shorts and a dark red shirt so young he had barely started walking."

"How … you … weren't there!" It was a haunted whisper.

"Were you a hero when you stood there and ordered your men to execute them? Two young children?" Narihisago opened his eyes and studied the threads snapping one by one as his logic disassembled Hirai's mind. "Do you know what her last words were? Did you even understand them?"

Hirai only breathed in and out, his dilating eyes stared into nothing.

Narihisago waited, looking him cold in the eyes already knowing the answer. When the silence stretched too long, when Hirai's eyes twitched in a split moment to met his punishing gaze, he whispered, "'Brother, don't fear. Momma is already waiting for us on the other side.'"

Taking a staggering step back, Hirai dropped the gun to swing from its strap as he shuddered.

"There were more. Countless more children, innocent women and men—mere citizens that happened to be in your way that you never even bothered to understand their pleas. When you gave an order, your men were trained, conditioned to obey it, without question. You are no hero, mass murderer. Just like you made Huyukawa. Just like you made your entire squad by your despicable orders."

"No." His gaze fell to his hands, he frantically began to wipe them on his clothing as if trying to rid them of blood. "It's not true … it's not true!"

"Huyukawa met a pitiful end. He strangled himself with a bed sheet when forced to face reality." Narihisago gestured to Hirai and just locked his eyes on him.

With a shaking hand Hirai pulled out his pistol. "I'm a hero." A tear trembled in the corner of his eye. "We were all heroes … no one understood what we were doing."

"Murdering innocent people under the guise of duty, laughing and joking about it as you drank in celebration. You knew what you were doing. You just didn't expect to have to answer for it. Not even the mud beneath a tank tread is lower than that abuse of power."

Hirai's hand inched up. He flicked the safety off, placing the gun to the side of his neck, against the throbbing vein marking his frantic pulse. His eyes closed. "My men, they carry out their orders, they … already have … we must always kill the greater evil." His finger hesitated on the trigger, twitching once before it committed.

BANG!

He was dead before he hit the floor.

"They told you how to break into Kura, but those fools forgot to warn you about me." A slow smile spread across Narihisago's face as the pool of blood flowed out from behind the desk. "Would you look at that, your bullet just saved a helluva lot of lives."

A stirring behind him turned his head.

Momoki stood with his hands in fists, eyes wide, skin pale. He bit off his words, "You really have become a twisted bastard! I never want to hear you do that again!"

Lowering his head, Narihisago fought to wipe the amusement from his features knowing damn well it was inappropriate. But he couldn't help it in the wash of what always followed the one action that somehow drew it to the surface.

Pleasure.