Nana frowned in concentration, staring at the frying pan, and the sizzling fish within it. In all honesty, she wasn't sure how long she needed to wait before she had to turn it over. Mayu said she had to keep an eye on the fish, and then flip it over once it was cooked all the way through, and that she was free to call for help, since she was in the same room as Mayu, who was chopping vegetables over by the next counter in the kitchen. She looked at the fish, trying to concentrate on it and nothing else, most noticeably the fact that she was now sharing a home with the two people her father wanted dead…and that neither of them were what she'd expected.

Alma had gone from bloodthirsty killer to moody teen, never being far from Lucy. She would send Nana the occasional murky glare every now and then, but apart from that, she never harmed her, or even gave her any grief about how she'd mutilated her body and ripped off all of her limbs. She behaved herself, and nothing was burned to ash.

Lucy, or Nyu as everyone called her, was by far more eccentric than her phantom friend. There was no trace of the mass murderer her father had briefed her on, and she sometimes found herself wondering whether or not this ditzy Diclonius was the same one who'd struck fear in the hearts of all the researchers back at the Institute. But there was no denying her well-described appearance, or her kinship with Alma.

In a way, this behavior disturbed her even more than their aggression. Their aggression she knew of. Their aggression was familiar, or at least Alma's was. She'd be familiar with their aggression. But this docile nature they chose to display was a whole new field of unpredictability for her. She doubted if even her papa would know what to do in this situation.

…Why did she smell smoke?

Looking down at the pan, Nana finally registered the smoke billowing from the pan. Shrieking, she raised the pan up from the stove with a yell.

"AH-ahahahMayuhelp!"

"The gas, Nana, turn off the gas!"

Nana quickly darted forward, turning off the gas with a sharp twist of her wrist. Her other hand swiftly grabbed the handle of the pan and calmly set it down on an unused burner.

"Are you hurt?"

"I-I don't think so, but-but the fish-"

"Don't worry about the fish right now. Let's just concentrate on preparing the rest of the meal, and maybe I'll heat up some refrigerated chicken."

"You mean the bird?"

"Yes, Nana, the bird."

"Alright, then. Is there anything else that I can do?"

Mayu was extremely hesitant to give Nana any more chores, but the girl just seemed so eager to help…

"Why don't I cut the vegetables?" Nana reached toward the table and picked up the vegetable knife, eagerly looking at the half-cut cabbage.

"You want to cut the vegetables?" Mayu winced, "I don't know…"

It might not have been the most ideal chore for someone like Nana, but Mayu would provide close supervision for this task…though maybe she'd keep her distance from her while she was waving the knife around. She watched, trying to calm the butterflies in her stomach, as Nana raised the knife and brought it down with great force, not just cutting the vegetable, but outright cleaving it, cutting into the wooden cutting board itself.

Thunk!

She raised the knife up high, and brought it down again.

Thunk!

And again.

Thunk!

And some more.

Thunk!

Thunk!

"Um, Nana, I don't think you have to cut it that hard-"

Nana raised the knife with too much force, and her prosthetic arm came loose at the forearm. Mayu didn't have time to react, she didn't even have time to scream. Yet she could stare, watching the blade fly toward her head. Closer, closer.

At the last second, A hand reached out from nowhere and grabbed the plastic arm, halting the blade inches from Mayu's face. Shocked beyond words, Mayu turned toward the haggard girl who'd saved her life.

…You're welcome.

Alma walked out of the room, casually tossing the limb back onto the kitchen table beside Nana, who was shaking like a leaf at the sight of her tormentor.

"Nana…" Mayu whispered her name quietly, and yet the girl still jumped at the mention of her name, "Are you…are you okay?"

"I…" Nana shivered in place, glancing over at the prosthetic limb that had nearly killed her friend, "Yeah…sorry."

"I'm alright, Nana," Mayu replied in earnest, "I'm more worried about you. I know it can't be easy staying with her after everything she did to you."

"It's hard, I'll admit…but she does seem to be behaving differently…and it helps having him around."

"Her son?"

"...Yes."

Neither girl could understand how a fully grown man could be born from what appeared to be a teenage girl, but had eventually decided that logic and Alma were like oil and water.

"You like him, huh?"

"Yeah. He's nice, and he treats me well. He reminds me of Papa."

"Well, maybe he'll help you get along with Alma."

"I…I hope so."

"Great!" Mayu looked at the remains of the dinner they'd promised Yuka they'd make. The chicken would be easier to prepare than the fish, and quicker, too. Which left them with plenty of time before dinner. After a moment's thought, Mayu smiled brightly.

"How about a bath?"

Even after all the time she'd stayed there, Mayu still got an incredible amount of joy out of the tubs, as much as she got when first experiencing them. As she slid down into the soothing warm water, she looked over at Nana, who was eyeing the tub with a nervous sense of curiosity.

"Taking a bath means going into hot water?" The idea sounded so strange to her, that she could momentarily think of nothing more to do than stand there and stare at the steaming water.

"Of course," replied Mayu calmly, "Just settle in, and enjoy. You'll never be more relaxed than this."

Nana tentatively stepped into the pool, feeling nothing at first, but as the water touched her skin, she let out a soft moan of pleasure.

"Aaah, this is so good! I can feel myself relaxing so much! This is incredible, Mayu! It's better than what I'm used to!"

"I know," said Mayu, closing her eyes quietly, "I come here as often as I can, and let the stress melt away."

"Mmm."

"...Nana?"

"Mmm?"

"If you don't mind me asking, what is it that you're usually used to?"

"Oh…well, back at the institute, I was usually just sprayed down with a hose full of cold water."

"Oh, I'm so sorry!"

"It's okay, Mayu. It's over."

"Yeah, I guess so."

For a while, the two girls merely sat back and relaxed in the tub, before Nana glanced over at Mayu and asked her a simple question.

"Mayu?"

"Yes?"

"How did you arrive here?"

Mayu winced, having not expected the question. She knew that Nana was aware of how everyone outside of herself had come to reside in Maple House. Everyone except herself. It was a personal question, though Nana had asked it with innocent intentions. And honestly, she had made Nana dredge up unpleasant memories of her own. It was only fair that she responded with a bit of her own dark past.

"Well…I had a mother and a stepfather, and…they didn't treat me all that kindly. So, I ran away, and eventually found Wanta. After running into Alma and Nyu, the two of us came to stay here in Maple House. It's been really great!"

This was a good answer, one that didn't give away too much information. It certainly appeased Nana, who nodded in satisfaction, though Alma was looking at her with heavy skepticism.

…wait-

"Augh!" Mayu leaped back, knocking her shoulders against the back of the tub. Nana turned toward the girl sitting beside her and responded in a similar manner, causing her to lose her grasp on a couple of her prosthetics. Her torso fell back into the tub, where she squirmed about in the water.

Mayu quickly stood up from the tub, showing little care for her own immodesty, "A-Alma! What are you doing here?!"

Thought I'd relax.

Nana stopped struggling as the words verberated through her mind. She floated in the tub for a moment as her limbs were pulled back to her body. "You…You came here just to relax?"

Is that surprising?

"Ummm…maybe a little," Mayu slowly settled down in the tub, never keeping her eyes off of Alma, "You…are you able to even relax?"

Sure. I'm always calm.

Alma remained seated near Nana's original spot the whole time, resting her head back against the wooden board. Nana had managed to regain full use of her limbs, and shakily stood up from the pool. She fixed Alma with a glare that was probably supposed to be intimidating, but did nothing to hide her fear. Even if she'd managed to convey proper anger and rage, it was a near certainty that Alma would've been unfazed.

Still, Nana couldn't bring herself to settle down, "You…you think I can just take a bath with you after everything you did to me?"

I was protecting my friend. There was no hint of remorse in her words, and no sorrow in her expression. Nana thought it would make her angrier, but it only made her feel more afraid.

"You made me…made me think my papa was torturing…me."

You went after my friend.

"That doesn't make what you did right!"

For a moment, there was no sound, save the soft dripping of Nana's tears falling into the bathwater. Finally, the quiet was broken by the heavy sloshing of Nana fleeing out of the tubs. She did not bother with grabbing a towel.

Mayu watched her friend go, wondering whether or not to go after. She glanced back at Alma, her expression a mixture of emotions, though Alma could tell her mind was even more of a whirlwind. Eventually, she left as well, though she made sure to grab a towel on the way out.

Alma remained in the tub for a little while longer, but eventually, she slowly sank her head beneath the water and vanished into the shallow depths.

Isobe walked briskly out of his office. He spotted Shirakawa and made a beeline for her, as he tried to quell the flurry of thoughts in his head. If he didn't get a hold of himself right now, then he'd be too distracted to do his job, and it was always important to remain focused on the job!

But so much had happened in just a few months! First Lucy escapes, evades capture time and again, and now Armacham had come in with their own can of worms, laying out their problems on the Institute's feet. It made Isobe bristle with repressed rage. This was all Armacham's fault! They'd failed to keep their creature contained, and it had sprung Lucy loose, crippled their best agent, and forced one of their subjects to be "retired." Surely Kakuzawa and Kurama realized all of this, and must be planning some form of retribution against the Americans. Something that would allow them all to come out on top. He'd known Kakuzawa for a while, and was well aware that he was more dangerous when he was quiet than when he was angry.

And that was what Isobe would focus on to keep his rage down: the inevitable defeat and absolute destruction of Armacham, and that smug wench Genevieve Aristide. They would squeeze whatever use she owed them, and then Kakuzawa would move in for the kill. Isobe was sure of that. He dwelled on the matter for the rest of his short trip, and by the time he'd managed to reach Shirakawa, the smile he gave her felt somewhat genuine.

"Shirakawa, update?"
We're almost ready with No. 35. Once her…wound has been patched, we'll be able to send her off soon."

"Well that's progress, then. And what of our foreign guests?"

"They were able to utilize some of their own special surveillance to locate No. 7. Apparently, she's been residing in Kamakura."

"That's where she encountered Alma and Lucy, right?"

"Correct."

"It's strange that she'd choose to return there. Perhaps she wants to go another round with them."
Shirakawa thought back to the terrified expression on that child's face. A face that was far too young and innocent to be terrified.

"Perhaps, but her motives don't matter. We need to find her, and hopefully she'll lead us to the others."

"If you decide to stay back at the base, I'll be sure to let you know how things turn out on land."

"Oh, I have no intention of missing out on any of this," then, after a moment of thought, "Wait, you will be letting me know?"

Shirakawa responded without missing a beat, "All projects relating to No. 35 have been trusted entirely to me."

Isobe almost took a step back in sheer surprise, "What? Why you?"

"Any complaints may be directed to General Director Kurama. Now, if there is no further business, I must submit the latest report."

Try as he might, Isobe couldn't find any more reason. He simply stood to the side while Shirakawa passed, and his mind tried not to be overwhelmed by the latest barrage of questions.

We can't end this soon enough, he thought wearily.

Similar thoughts swirled through Shirakawa's head as she reached Kurama's office, the report tucked under her arm in a crisp folder. She entered the office, her greeting already formed in her mind, (something formal, yet inviting,) but was driven to a halt when she saw that her boss was absent. His absence wasn't what shocked her; it was the shattered picture frame on the floor. Kurama was always an organized, fastidious man who kept his office neat and tidy. It was one of the (many) things that she admired about him. At first, she even wondered if it had been someone else who'd smashed the frame onto the floor. But her instincts, sharpened and forged by a long and eccentric career in classified X-File organizations, told her that this was the work of her boss.

She walked up to the frame, her heels crunching down on the carpet. Kneeling down, she picked up the picture and glanced at the faces in the photo, of the pregnant fom of Kurama's late wife, and of Kurama himself, pressing his head against the pregnant belly with a look of peace and contentment on his face that she'd never seen in person. She stared at the photo, and she felt a large, deep pit begin to form in her stomach. She quickly set the photo down on the desk that it had originally resided, and placed the folder beside it. She turned around on her heel, strolled out, and did her best not to break down in the open corridor.

Bando stood on the beach, staring out toward the sea. Every day, it seemed as though his problems grew more and more. Or at least his kill count did. First there had been Lucy and Alma, then this other Diclonius who he'd run across at the beach, and now there was this American, and he may as well have been more of a ghost than Alma herself. He'd looked everywhere, digging up any lead from any contacts he had. And the results of his long search?

Zero.

Nothing.

Not a single sight.

Bando gnashed his teeth, hearing the grating sound in his head. In all of his years working all of his messy jobs, he'd never stumbled upon a roadblock like this. He hadn't even been able to find either of the Diclonius, or that skinny hag Alma. He needed a lead, and he was certain at least one was on his way.

He heard movement to the side, and turned to see Kurama strolling upto him down the sandy dunes. Bando headed up to him, fully intending to skip any facade of pleasantries. He reached out his hand, not to shake Kurama's, but to show the dented damage on his prosthetic.

"Do you see this?" he asked pointedly.

"It's the cybernetic arm I gave you."

"It's a busted up piece of junk!"

"I do recall warning you not to apply too much pressure to the casing."

"It wasn't me who did it! It was this guy who was protecting that other Diclonius!"

Kurama paused, his eyes unreadable from behind his glasses. Then, in a quiet, controlled voice, "Explain."

"Gladly! I found that the newest escaped Diclonius out on the beach, right here in fact! I had my gun raised, when some jerk attacked me, taking my gun and throwing me into the sand. He's the one who damaged my arm!"

"What did this American look like?"

"Tall, muscular, had a short beard and somewhat long hair. Seemed pretty well-trained, too."

Kurama made a mental note of all of this and kept talking, "I'll let the Institute know."

I'll let Genevieve know, he thought to himself.

"So," continued Bando in a tone of voice that might've passed off as casual, "Tell me what you want. I assume this has something to do with Lucy, otherwise I might just decide to leave."

"There is a Diclonius that I want you to kill. She's different from the others, and is all the more dangerous for it."

"Are you serious?" Bando practically scoffed, "After all this time, you just want me to try and kill another one?"

"It's not like you were successful in killing the first."

Bando's gun was drawn in an instant, pointed squarely at Kurama's forehead. The director didn't so much as blink as Bando stared him down with daggers in his cybernetic eyes.

"You want to try that again, punk?" he asked coldly.

"All I'm saying," replied Kurama evenly, "Is that after your last mission, I'm sure you'll be eager for a rematch. I can give you that opportunity. Also, I can provide repairs for your prosthetics."

Bando considered this offer, and Kurama knew that if the prosthetic replacements wouldn't entice him, the opportunity to prove himself again would.

After a moment, the gun was lowered, "Okay, then. But what about Alma? Any leads on her?"

"She'll probably be with the Diclonius," stated Kurama, acting as though he'd not just had a gun pointed at his face, "Where one goes, the other will follow. I can't guarantee you'll be able to match her though."

He expected Bando to grow angry at this, maybe even brandish his gun, but instead he just shrugged, "My business, not yours. Just let me know if you find out anything about any americans."

"You will be posted," responded Kurama flatly, "Now listen…"

Genevieve Aristide watched as the deployment team finished checking over Mariko. They'd done an admittedly good job patching her up, and she even seemed to have regained her color from the blood loss. Nonetheless, Genevieve felt unsettled by all of this. She'd known about the mess she was cleaning up when she'd taken charge of Armacham, of all the nasty experiments and projects that had to be swept under the rug. She thought she could put all of this unpleasantness behind her, but some ghosts refused to stay buried. And now, here she was, back in the cruel world of conspiracies and child experimentation. Still, she knew these weren't just children, they were Diclonius, a curious species that might've gone down big for the rest of Armacham staff and researchers. Regardless, there were enough problems back home without this ruthless amazonian race. Let Japan deal with them.

One of her attendants walked up to her, an urgent look on her face, "Ms. Aristide, Director Kurama is on the line. He called his office, and wants to talk to you. He sounded urgent."

Genevieve gave a tight frown, and went to go answer the phone. She picked up the receiver and answered with a kurt "What is it?"

"Alma's sons," stated Kurama's calm professional voice, "I think at least one of them has returned. A contact of mine described a muscular american with a beard who assaulted him over a matter involving Diclonius."

Genevieve rubbed her temples at the news, "That would be her second son, the more natural of the two. He has enhanced abilities and reflexes."

"And you call that natural?"

"Compared to his brother, yes."

There was a pause on the other end. Perhaps Kurama was collecting his temper. She certainly couldn't blame him if he was.

"So," continued Kurama, "Now we have to deal with them?"

"They're far less a threat than their mother, believe me."

"And what exactly is your plan for her?" Kurama suddenly snapped, "You can't keep dodging around this forever. If we can find Lucy, and if we can put her down, we'll still have to contend with her best friend, who we are no closer to defeating than the night she came to bust Lucy out. Now I must ask you once more, Ms. Aristide, if you or your staff have any other way of neutralizing Alma Wade?!"

Aristide thought back to it. To the special container that Armacham had brought along with them. It was small, but it was also highly advanced, and cost over a year's budget to make. The corporation had to take out several loans in order to purchase all the materials to finish construction. But it was no normal device: It was a prison, housing a monster that could only be contained because they'd been able to see it coming, and had struck while it was still growing.

"I may have one solution," Genevieve replied, "But we'd better be certain that this is what we want."