Chapter 12

"Yamane. Hold on for a second before you put him in." Itoh had accompanied them down to the cell blocks. An amusing procession, at least to Fukuda. Three guards, two cooperating restrained prisoners, and the head of security, the latter following at a marked distance. All of them unarmed.

Fukuda halted outside the open door of his own cell as his guard stopped and turned in a bit of surprise clearly uncertain of what to do. The wise thing in his hole-riddled mind was remain placid and watch this new development. Across the hall, Narihisago stood facing outward with his wrists still cuffed behind him, one guard gripped each of his arms. He stared straight ahead, eyes unfocused, jaw clenched tight.

Well anyone would be discomforted with Itoh's inspecting gaze boring into them. Fukuda was quite content that he hadn't gained level of attention. The head of security leaned forward, scrutinizing Narihisago. At last staring him straight in the eye.

Narihisago met the gaze for a moment before his eyes darted away.

Cocking his head Itoh rubbed his chin. "So, you're the prize possession of Kura. You're the crazy killer down here, the one whose words can kill?"

He didn't acknowledge the remark, instead looking down toward where the wall met the floor.

"Hey, I asked you a question. You answer me."

He blinked slowly and forced a nod. That was his answer to a rather rude question. Fukuda had to give him credit for not hitting the guy.

"Sounds like a pack of bullshit, you ask me. Not even that imposing. Just a typical piece of shit convict. I don't believe for a minute that there's anything special about you."

Before Fukuda realized it, he spoke, "He's done it twice in front of me. Never laid a finger on them." Wait, why am I attracting attention to myself? Too late now.

Itoh didn't even turn. "Was anyone talking to you, Hole Boy?"

"Uhhh not really, but … "

"Then shut it!"

Well that was uncalled for, I was just trying to be helpful.

Narihisago remained rigid under the scrutiny.

Wrinkling his brow, Yamane's scar from the event deepened as he scowled. "Trust me, Itoh, what you heard is true. He's pulled that trick a number of times. Don't let him learn too much about you. He might try to pull it on you."

"Are you a serial killer?" Narihisago locked eyes with Itoh.

He laughed. "Certainly not."

Turning that deadpan gaze to Yamane he replied dryly, "He's got nothing to worry about."

"Yeah, my scar and a friend's busted neck say different, you fuckwad. Boss, you done? I'm tellin' yah, I'd feel better to have him confined before he makes trouble."

Itoh took his time before he nodded. "Lock 'em in, boys. We got work to do, like freeing real valuable folks instead of wasting time with deadbeats."

Fukuda's guard made short work of removing the cuffs and closing the door to his cell. From inside, Fukuda watched as Yamane forced Narihisago against the side wall, one hand on the back of his head drawing out a wince.

Yamane worked the key into the cuffs and snarled through clenched teeth, "Stay put! Move even one muscle and I'll drop you the floor. Got it?"

There wasn't an answer, but he didn't move. Still, the tension in his eyes was enough as Yamane grabbed the first unlocked wrist and pressed it against the wall in front of his face. The second off to the other side of his head. Narihisago visibly exercised extraordinary will not to strike that little prick.

"Keep them up there til I say otherwise!"Yamane backed out of the cell. Two guards and the head of security watched as the door slid shut. Secured.

Without another word, all four of them walked off.

Narihisago waited for a full minute before he pushed off the wall and slammed his fist against the panel. Fury in his eyes.

The thud startled Fukuda, but he mastered himself enough not to jump. Across the hall he observed the breaking storm and began to wonder if Narihisago's wells were able to morph one into the other. Had the lightning well re-emerged? Now that would be interesting.

Narihisago leaned his head back, a determined snarl on his face, in a flash he surged forward. Instantly Fukuda knew his intention, to drive his head into the wall.

"Whoa! Easy! Hey—don't do that!" Fukuda pressed his hands against the barrier, helpless to do anything if his words couldn't reach the poor bastard.

To his relief, he stopped a fraction of an inch from doing it. After a tense pause, with his fingers forming claws against the panel, he dropped his forehead into the wall that final fraction in a harmless dull thump.

"Phew … you really had me there for a moment. I mean, doesn't your head already hurt? How is a concussion going to help? Jeez, the guards here sure do treat you like shit."

Abandoning the wall, Narihisago shuffled over to his sink and scrubbed the blood off his face, drying it off with his shirt. "Yeah, kinda goes with the territory of being locked up for the sake of the rest of the damned world."

Fukuda mused, "Not like the way the Well Director treats you. There is something about you and Momoki, bro... ehhh, Narihisago." He caught himself before he used that word. After all, he was trying to set ground work, now that he had seen a glimpse beyond the melancholy facade. No doubt about it, his cell block mate wasn't at all as sure-footed as he'd been trying to pull off. There was so much more turbulence beneath the surface that he was floundering. It brought a slight unexpected chill to Fukuda as he recalled the corpse in the quick sand. He spoke,trying to buck it off, "You know each other, but it's deeper than just a passing thing."

Narihisago sat down on the edge of his bed leaning onto his elbows. "Back when I was a homicide detective on the force he'd been my partner."

There it was, that underlying connection. "Ah, that explains so much! So you were colleagues. Awesome."

He cupped his head. "Were..."

"But if that's the case, where are all the photos of you two working together?" Slowly Fukuda's satisfied smile faded as it dawned on him. "Oh, I get it … that's the reason you're in here. You stepped over the line and became the pariah. So, no more friends. After that no one wanted to be associated with you anymore because you were tainted."

He nodded, but didn't reply. He flopped backward and rolled into bed, facing the wall.

"So ah … "

"Fukuda," his voice was a tense plea, "I really need to lie down for a bit, ok? I know I said we'd talk and shit … but I just can't right now."

Fukuda's hand slipped down the pane. His heart sank a bit. On the cusp of getting somewhere, of forging a kinship for the first time in his life and this was the answer he got. A cold shoulder.

A strange sound tore him from his thoughts. A movement caught his attention. Subtle though it was, even facing away he could see Narihisago bring his hands up to cover his face. Both of them. The sound? A muted shuddering sobbing.

Fukuda turned and trudged to his bed, lying on his back he cradled his head in his hands. He heaved a sigh. Am I ever gonna get this right, or just keep fucking it up every time I try?

His stomach growled, filling the silence. Damn, hope they remember that we didn't get breakfast down here. Course they probably got other things on their minds … kinda like him. He watched and listened for a long moment. Something rather sad about a grown man reduced to tears. I really got to get him talking before he resorts to bashing his skull in again. How many times can a guy do that before it does serious damage?

~ID~

Kokufu lingered by the edge of his desk, peering behind it with an eyebrow perked. Cupping a hand over his mouth in thought he glanced to Momoki on the opposite side of the desk. "You weren't joking about needing a cleaning service."

Momoki interlaced his fingers behind his back in the slight discomfort of the chief's revelation.

Sighing, Kokufu walked back around to join him, remarkably composed, considering. "I think we'll conduct our meeting in another room for now. How about the Wellside office, if you don't mind."

"Not at all." Momoki gestured for him to lead the way. "This looks like it's going to be a long day. I sent the others to help security release the rest of the staff around the building. So far no one is allowed to approach the exits until the booby traps have been handled."

"Good call." Kokufu pushed the elevator button. "Today is certainly going to be one for the sealed files."

"That goes without saying."

The elevator doors opened.

At last they arrived down in the Wellside office, a good deal smaller than the chief's. Momoki had a corner desk relatively devoid of knickknacks. That left far more room to spread out any hard-copy files. Unlike the Wellside's high-tech, this area held the appearance of a typical office with regular flat screened computers and file cabinets. A few of the desks held an array of items. Wakashika's desk the most obvious, displaying an array of action figures from various movies with a stash of energy drinks below. That man had about the worst diet imaginable.

Momoki gestured to a desk chair for Kokufu as he took his own. He set the walkie talkie on the desk between them. Already others were being collected from the bodies of Hirai's squad around the building forming a make-shift system until they could leave the building and obtain new cell phones. The occasional chatter across their only current communication line alerted them to the slow process of restoring Kura. Beleaguered techs were already bemoaning the use of an EMP within the building. The timeline to get everything back up kept extending by every curse.

Kokufu relaxed into the chair and rubbed his wrist absently. "Alright, so we have a lot to discuss, clearly. The first of which is, is everyone on your staff ok?"

"More or less."

The earned him a quirked brow. "Cryptic. What's that supposed to mean?"

Momoki heaved a sigh. "Maybe it's better if I go over what happened."

By the time he finished recounting the events, they had gone through three cups of strong coffee each. Kokufu set his empty mug down. "So, let me get this straight. You purposefully unlocked the cockpit chamber door and released two inmates into the upper halls to mix with unknown intruders."

Now that he heard it stated aloud, the idea didn't seem quite so sound. "At the time it was a split second decision. I was counting on Narihisago. I fully admit that I had forgotten about Fukuda at that precise moment. However, he did pick the lock to our door. It all worked out, neither one of them caused trouble."

"There is a body in my office."

Momoki flicked a hand. "Except for that little detail … which leads me to something else. We need to talk about Narihisago and the future of the Mizuhanome."

"That's putting it mildly. I am quite alarmed about the details of what has transpired. Where is he right now?"

"I had security put them both back in their cells until we could come to a decision. Solitary doesn't feel like the right reaction this time."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Not too long ago that wouldn't have been discussed. It was practically protocol."

"I know."

"You're wavering because of what he said to you, that it does no good."

"It's not just that." Momoki wrapped his hands around his empty mug, if only for something to occupy them. "It was watching him the whole time. Realizing how we've been treating them—all the inmates down there. Under Hayaseura they were locked up and necessities met. Nothing more. Frankly, Narihisago's underlying condition had been entirely ignored this whole time. By Kura, by Hayaseura, by me … we just used him and ignored the consequences. The process was certainly tested before he arrived here. But no single pilot ever underwent the number of dives he has over such a long course of time. There is an impact, one he never mentioned before."

Kokufu folded his hands in the silence. "Do you feel we need pull him from the pilot program?"

For a moment, Momoki considered nodding. But he couldn't commit to it. That wasn't the solution. "I think we owe him a serious look into what's going on. Consider his file, there is no official diagnosis, they just … gave up. We know … especially after today, he's truly mentally ill. I believe he is suffering far more than he lets on. There must be something we can do."

"You're right. We can't just keep things as Hayaseura set them up. Clearly there was some neglect. So, let's get down to it. Where should we start?" Kokufu grabbed a pen and paper to Momoki's surprise waiting for him to suggest.

"Sir … I … "

Kokufu tapped the pen to the paper. "Well, you interact with the inmates the most, what do we need to do?"

The words left him almost without thought, "Help them." That was the easy part. The hard? How?

~ID~

This place was quiet. Too quiet. As he stared at the back of his eyelids, a vague ringing filled Fukuda's ears just for something to listen to, aside from the distant yowling of one of the inmates in another cell block. Another guy who could probably use a hole in his head from the sound of it. This had been a long eventful day, and it wasn't even over. There was no way of knowing precisely what time of day it actually was—not that he minded not having a clock. Not even mealtimes had marked it. Hunger growls had subsided when it seemed his stomach figured out he couldn't answer it. He certainly wasn't expecting a full, multi-course meal. The staff was probably still reeling from the events, it had only been a handful of hours since they'd been escorted down to the cells. But the least they could have done was sent down some leftovers or something. No one had come, even on a regular patrol.

… real valuable folks instead of wasting time with deadbeats.

Forgotten about. Now that was familiar.

The distant sound of footsteps edged him out of his thoughts. At first they seemed to be in his mind. But the persistence and the change in tone, getting closer, teased his eyes open a crack. Moments later a familiar shadow stood between the cells.

Momoki. The guy stood stiff, staring toward the rear wall between the cells, unwilling to look into Narihisago's.

Fukuda scratched the side of his nose. The motion caught Momoki's attention, earning him a glance. He raised a hand and waved. "Yo."

He flicked a half-hearted wave before very slowly turning toward the opposite cell. His nerves were all over his body language. The guy could have been a violin string, fit to be plucked.

Across the way, Narihisago lay on his right side, facing the wall. Still slightly curled as he had been when sleep claimed him. He hadn't so much as stirred. If he was honest, Fukuda pitied the poor bastard. No wonder his sleep was so often disturbed if he was stuck early in grinding edge of the grieving cycle. By the sounds of it he had barely even started. Over the years that kind of shit really wears away, at least he'd read that in some useless self-help book some years before putting the hole in his head. He sighed just thinking about all the things he'd tried before he discovered success.

Momoki's voice was hollow over his shoulder, "Did he just fall asleep?"

Fukuda kept his voice down. "Nah, he's been out for hours now."

He slumped a bit. "Maybe I should come back."

Issuing half a shrug while still laying on his back, he replied, "Or maybe you should just get it over with. The guy's already had a bad day. Just tell him whatever it is, can it really make things any worse?"

The expression that briefly escaped him told it all and brought Fukuda to a sitting position on the edge of his bed.

"Wait … it can? Whoa … what happened? He get solitary for like the rest of the year?"

"No. He might actually prefer that." Momoki sighed, his hands fidgeted at his sides. Clenching his eyes tight, he opened them after a pause and called out his name.

~ID~

"Narihisago."

He'd heard his name more than once tugging him out of the dark quiet void he had sunk into. Gradually he opened his eyes, inhaling deeper before lifting his head enough to glance over his shoulder. He wasn't hearing things. Momoki actually stood outside the cell, alone. And he had nervous plastered all over a calm facade.

"Please, I need to talk to you."

Wearily, Narihisago pushed up from the bed, rolling on his hip to face the front. His body protested, longing to lie there, not quite ready. But he forced it with a groan. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he slouched with his elbows on his knees.

"Are you listening?"

Deadpan he muttered, "You wanna talk, talk."

Momoki swallowed, his restless eyes struggled to remain in one spot. They kept slipping from Narihisago. "The chief and I had a long talk. You won't be going to solitary."

There was a pause as if he expected a reaction, a response of some kind other than just the stare he received. He got nothing.

Exhaling out his nose, he flexed a hand at his side. "Furthermore, there are going to be some changes to Kura. We have noted some rather terrible oversights and will be making efforts to correct them."

Nerves were showing pushing him to adopt the more business toned speech pattern. The shield he tended to use to cover his vulnerabilities. This meant there was something that really had him on edge, more so than earlier.

"First and foremost there is the situation with the guards and their handling of compliant prisoners. You need to speak up when they are mishandling you."

"You think they listen to me?" Narihisago huffed a breath, that very notion was laughable. "You have the wrong perspective of things down here. Unlike you, who still sees me as a colleague, on this side of the pane I'm viewed as nothing different then the scumbags we're chasing. Treating me like shit is what they deem as part of their job. Besides, you aren't the head of security. You're job is Well Director."

"My job is make sure we get the best information we can from the dives. That means I can't let my most effective pilot be compromised. So yeah, it is part of my job. We need to address these issues. I'm not a psychic, you have to talk to me, Narihisago."

He rolled his eyes.

"Speaking of you being honest with me." The facade slipped, his eyes tightened. "You lied to me earlier. In the office, telling me that you don't feel guilt. That's bullshit. Honesty is everything to you. How could you even suggest that?"

Somehow he kept his dull gaze level, but he wanted to look away from the concern Momoki displayed. He wished this wasn't happening now. Not when he was half awake.

"No answer, huh? Well, I know I'll hear something about this." Shaking his head, he flexed a hand at his side. "Narihisago, for the foreseeable future you are being pulled from duty as a Mizuhanome pilot."

Before he even realized it he was standing, it felt like a bucket of ice cold water had been thrown at him including the bucket. "No—why?"

Momoki's gaze hardened. "You are seriously sick and only getting worse. We will be tapping resources to get an accurate diagnosis and proper treatment for you."

Staggering to the barrier, Narihisago tried to even his breathing. "Don't do this! What about the id wells who will—"

"As soon as we can reach Hondomachi we will ask her to cover for now."

His hand pressed the barrier. "Momoki, no! You can't do this to me. I need a sense of purpose! Those dives are all I have!"

The expression didn't soften, if anything it grew harder. "You're not even able to prioritize things right. These dives are eroding your stability."

"It's a waste of time. They never were able to help me."

"It's been a while. Procedures have changed, technology is different. Maybe there is something we can do now that couldn't be before." He closed his eyes. "This isn't up for discussion. It's a direct order from the chief. You will undergo testing and treatment."

Slowly Narihisago dragged his hand as he sank down against the panel to the floor. The sheer weight of a choice, once more out his hands, stole his ability to stand. Did Momoki have even the faintest idea what he was committing him to? Was he still a friend?

"Narihisago, please. We're only trying to help you."

"Just go." Speaking toward the floor, he loathed how his voice trembled.

"But … "

"If you're not going to listen …" Through the dread he couldn't even find the strength to lift his head, to face Momoki. " … just leave me alone."

"I'm serious." Momoki's hand touched the barrier on the other side, matching where his hand remained for balance.

"So am I … have you ever endured the side-effects of an anti-psychotic?"

"No."

He shivered at the memories. "Then you don't have even the faintest idea what you're suggesting. Especially when they're the wrong kind and amount to torture … all the tests, the repeated failures … all those false hopes. All it did was drive me further … all while you watched!" His hand clawed at the pane. "And you want me to do it all again so you can feel better?"

Momoki leaned close to the pane, just on the other side, hand pressed to where Narihisago's was. His voice just barely audible through the barrier. "I want my friend to no longer suffer … I have not forgotten that I still have a brother."

Narihisago's eyes shut tight.

"I'm sorry it came to this." He stood up. "I'll be back when we're ready to proceed. You're not going through this alone."

Several minutes passed after the footsteps receded before Narihisago allowed his weight to fall back into a seated position. He shifted around, left shoulder to the clear pane, back against the wall, effectively sitting in the front corner of his cell. Drawing his knees up, he rested his forehead there just trying to keep from hyperventilating as his brain ran through all the previous crap he'd been put through.

"Normies, puh." Across the cell block, Fukuda sat on the floor leaning against the wall in a mirrored fashion. A crooked grin on his uneven features. "Always thinkin' of the quick fix. Like a pill or a bunch of daily affirmations can just make it all magically disappear and turn us into perfect citizens."

He laid his head back and stared vaguely at the ceiling. "Sure would be nice."

"Not your experience is it."

"Not even remotely."

He chuckled low. "Me neither. Only found one way, but I suppose it's not for everyone. Anyway, my point is your friend there don't know shit about what it's like to be like us. No frame of reference. It's why he's not much help. Probably thinks all you need to do lighten up and smile more."

Narihisago cracked a half-hearted grin.

"There, see? Everything's better, right?" He laid his own head back, cocked so he could look across the corridor at Narihisago. "That's what normies think, only we know it isn't. Shit doesn't just go away like that … scars don't fade with grins and glitter. Life has screwed both of us hard and put us away wet."

"No shit, and it had a name. Hayaseura." His nails dug into his skin through the jumpsuit joining the marks that Yamane's had already left on him. A strange saying wandered through his thoughts. "It takes the broken to fix the broken."

Fukuda's eyes lost a bit of their light. His fingers played with the hem of his sleeve. "It really does … at least I think so. I mean, I tried. But I guess I got it wrong. And the truth is even before that shadow man showed up I was already a hot mess. You … you're a different story."

"I don't think this is a competition. Does it really matter how we end up on this side of sanity?"

"It might." He stared at his own hands. "You … had a family … one that loved you … and they were taken away."

Narihisago tightened a fist in tandem with the pressure growing around his heart. "Please—stop."

Fukuda winced, turning his face away. "Sorry. It's just … I wanted to know … what it was like?"

The question was so strange, he wasn't certain he understood. "What was what like?"

"Having a family ..." his voice was so quiet, "no one ever loved me."

"Could be the trying to drill holes in them."

He sullenly replied, "Touche."

The words sunk in around the mild attempt at gallows humor, Narihisago swallowed. His id well making more sense by the second. The fractured world all in pieces, his victims forced to live together even photographed as a family. " … your family abandoned you, didn't they."

Fukuda folded into himself, the nod barely perceptive. "When I was a young boy they left me in the middle of an out-of-town festival. I couldn't find my way back home. When the police officers took me home they pretended I ran off. The moment the door closed my parents told me I was supposed to stay lost, they didn't want to deal with my problem anymore. I've been screwed up my whole life, nothing but an inconvenience. A week later they did it again … that time, I didn't even try to go back. I stayed … lost. Alone. Tossed through the system."

The pain resonated in his downcast gaze enough that Narihisago felt it. He searched for words but nothing seemed to be enough. Fukuda had been a child, an innocent boy, reliant on them. "That was … unforgivable."

"Your parents, are they still alive?"

"Should be. They were when I was arrested, anyway. I didn't get back over to that prefecture very often, so I didn't see them much after I left for the academy." Narihisago let his eyes wander over the photos on his wall. "The last time I spoke to them … was at the funeral."

Fukuda glanced sideways through the strands of hair. "Do they still … you know ..."

Narihisago shook his head. "I doubt it. Not after the shame I brought on myself just days later. I was their only child, and at one point seemed like I was the center of their lives. But it wouldn't surprise me if I've been disowned to save their face. An extreme measure, considering I was supposed to care for them in their old age … kinda hard to do that when I can't even take care of myself. " He lapsed into silence.

Fukuda idly tapped the pane with his knuckle three time. "You got a problem with failure."

Narihisago nodded. "Always have."

"If I had a drill I could fix that for you."

He eyed him "Yeah, I think I'll pass. I've had enough of people trying to mess with my head, thank you. But it looks like I'm about to be subjected to more of that useless shit."

"Hey, all they wanna do is help you out."

"If only … all previous efforts ever managed to do was leave me worse off. I wish they'd just leave things alone."

"To be honest, you're not in a great place to make that judgment. From where I'm sitting you are seriously in need of something before you blow. Trust me, it's gonna come out one way or another eventually. Venting is better than … " Fukuda made an explosive gesture with his hands accompanied by a sound effect.

Narihisago bowed his head, his scraggly hair a lame-ass shield. "I'm not ready."

"When you are, you have a captive audience." He gave a cheesy grin.

Unable to resist it, Narihisago gave a wry laugh. "I can't believe it, you actually have your shit together better than I do."

"Yeah, well, I've also been dealing with it far longer than you. Came to terms with it." He pointed at the hole in his head. "A bit messy, bit it did do the trick."

"You're still a screw job."

"Ok, I'll give you that. But I'm a lot more relaxed about it. Unlike Mr. Anger Issues when the pressure comes on."

Narihisago cringed and rested his forehead on his knees.

"Time to change the subject. We gotta talk about something. Nothing else to do to the fill the time. And you just got a whole lotta free time. What was my id well like?"

"Nice try. But I'm not telling you that."

"No fair. I really want to know. You know what yours is like."

Narihisago shook his head with a weary smile. "Seriously, just drop it. Maybe Hondomachi will tell you if you ask real nice."

"Jeeze, you're a hard ass." Suddenly he sat up. "Hey, I know, tell me about your old cases, the ones when you were a homicide detective."

"Why would you want to hear about those?"

"Why not? Heck, might inspire me to be a more useful brilliant detective in the dives. If they ever let me again. If they retire you maybe I can take your place."

"Not exactly something to aspire to." Leaning back against the wall, Narihisago half closed his eyes. "Story time it is. Wonder if any of these are still classified? Heh, doubt it matters. Screw it, my name's not even on them anymore."

"You were serious about that? They legit stripped your name?"

"There may be some hard copies with my handwriting somewhere, but everything's digital now-a-days. Yeah, Matsuoka told me they replaced it with 'the detective'. Really rubbed it in my face when he did. Swear he stopped by the prison just for that. It sucks, but I guess it was easier for the department than dealing with the fallout if the truth about me ever found the light of day. Hell, if any of this is classified who are you gonna tell from in here anyway?"

"Exactly. So, what we got first?"

Narihisago folded his hands in his lap. "I think you'll like this one. The Pinhole Case."

"Ooo, holes!"

"See? You like it already."