In the Shadow of No 6

by White Eevee

No. 6 is no utopia. After twelve years suffocating under the city's constant surveillance, Nezumi is determined to escape. But just when he manages to crawl out from under No. 6's watchful eye, he finds himself the captive of a West Block terrorist group. AU, rated T for language and violence.

12. Slow Burn

The scent of wildflowers was strong in the air. He was standing on a hill overlooking a vast field of white flowers. From his perch he could clearly see a lake over the crest of a faraway hill. The wind caressed his cheeks in soft tendrils and sent an army of white tufts drifting across his vision.

This is that place.

It was the same meadow, but the grasses were shorter than before, and the weather was pleasantly warm rather than suffocating. He guessed that this time he was transported into the middle of spring, rather than summer. He turned around and saw the deep green forest behind him. Without the terrifying silhouettes and raging flames, it seemed tranquil, even welcoming. The gentle sound of birdsong flowed out of the recesses of the wood. He wanted to go inside, but he resisted the urge and listened hard to the wind. There was no whisper, only the soft sound of air sifting through the trees.

Where is She? Where are you?

He spoke the last sentence aloud, but no sound came out. Even so, he knew somehow that his words had been heard. He stared out at the reflection of the azure sky in the lake water. It felt odd atop the hill, as though he was on a stage for all to see. The flowers and grasses below looked so soft swaying in the breeze and he suddenly felt the urge to run down into them and chase the small white tufts around the field.

It feels like they're waiting for something. Maybe…

He suddenly knew what it was he was expected to do. He breathed in and the words poured from his lips.

The wind carries the soul away, humans steal the heart

O earth, O tempests; O heavens, O light

Let everything cease,

Let everything be,

and live

O soul, my heart, O love, my memory

Return home here

And stay

The breeze picked up and blew his loose hair back from his face. He could hear the all-too-familiar hum riding on the wind and it told him this was what he was meant to do. He closed his eyes and savored the feeling.

The wind carries the soul away, humans steal the heart

But here I will remain

to keep singing

Please

Deliver my song

Please

Accept my song

He kept his eyes closed for a moment, listening to the sounds around him. All at once the wind hushed and the birdsong faded. He opened his eyes, but the view did not change, the meadow had only stilled and the white fluff was dropping out of sight.

I received your song.

Her voice fell like rain around him, but he could not see anything but the field of flowers.

You wish to speak to me, Singer?

He struggled to decide which question to ask first. He wasn't sure how long he had.

"What are you? Why are you here?"

I am not of human comprehension. I have no name, nor reason for being. I am.

He swallowed, his doubts confirmed. Whatever the voice was, it was not human.

"But you want to destroy No. 6. Is that not a reason for being?"

I was long before No. 6 was built. Destroying that city is not my reason for being, but it is my design.

"Last time you showed me a forest fire. The man you showed me aged and a wasp hatched from his neck. The same thing happened to a man when I was running from the Bureau. Did you do that?"

You were in danger, came Her immediate answer.

A cold feeling pooled in the pit of his stomach and made his hair stand on end.

I would not let them take more than they have. Would you rather have died?

"No."

It was quiet between them. He got up his nerve and turned to look at the forest, but it was just as still and silent as before.

You fear me, but you should not. I do not wish to harm you.

Nezumi shook his head slowly. "I don't understand. Then why can't I leave?"

You must remain where you are. You will understand soon.

"Why me? What do you want from me?"

She was quiet. He looked around, but although he could still sense Her presence, he did not see anything but the still field in front of him.

I can give you what you desire, Singer. I can give you the peace you long for. It is still early, but the time draws near. Will you be ready?

"Ready for what? Tell me what you're talking about."

His vision was blurring and he felt light, as though his mind was crumbling piece by piece. He fought to hold on, squeezing his eyes shut and digging his bare feet into the dirt, but he could feel consciousness tugging at his body. Everything was coming loose. He was fading.

"Wait a minute! Answer my questions!"

You know the answers you seek.

XXXXX

Nezumi's eyes snapped open.

He had finally made contact with Her and She answered almost none of his questions. Instead, She added more to the list.

I've never woken up so angry in my life! What the hell does She want?

He threw his blanket off and sat up on the couch. The bed beside him creaked and he turned to see Shion. The other boy was sitting up in bed with a book in his hands, but he was watching Nezumi. Nezumi ran a hand through his hair and got up to go to the bathroom.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Shion asked the moment he came back.

Nezumi imagined what it would be like if he told Shion about the voice in his head, and how it gave him cryptic messages about destroying No. 6 and prevented him from leaving the West Block.

"No."

Shion shrugged and returned to reading his book. Nezumi checked the clock and saw that it was just past ten. Shion was usually at work by this time. "You have off today?"

"Mm-hm. I might go out later, though. What about you? You usually wake up earlier. Have you not been sleeping well?"

"That's the understatement of the year. The couch isn't exactly a pile of feathers, and the only way I fit is to scrunch up on my side. I feel like I'm going to develop a back condition any day now."

Shion looked thoughtfully at the couch, but didn't say anything. Nezumi wasn't expecting him to. He was still annoyed from his dream conversation and he was more or less complaining for the sake of doing so. Not that he was lying about the couch; it was uncomfortable, but he didn't think Shion could do much about it other than suggest he sleep on the floor instead.

He looked around the room for food, but the only thing in sight was the crackers on the table.

"Is there anything to eat around here?"

"Crackers."

"Sorry, let me clarify: Is there anything edible in here?"

Shion smiled. "I'll pick up more food when I go out today. In the meantime, maybe you can try reading this. I think you'll like it." Shion held out the book he had been reading.

"I didn't realize I was taking requests," he said, but took the white paperback from him nonetheless. "The Importance of Being Earnest by Oscar Wilde. Oscar Wilde again? You must like that guy."

"His books are interesting. That's his most famous play."

"What's it about?"

"Being Earnest." Shion laughed at Nezumi's grimace. "Hey, that joke is really funny if you've read the play. Read it."

Shion produced another book from beside him, and Nezumi wondered if he slept with them in his bed.

"You can read it out loud to the mice if you want," Shion said, opening his book to a bookmarked page. "I won't be bothered by the noise."

Nezumi clicked his tongue. "If you want to hear me read, just ask."

He plopped down on the couch and cracked the book open. The mice came scurrying at the sound and hopped onto the table, but when Nezumi looked up, he realized there were only two. One of the brown mice was missing.

"Where's Cracker?"

"Huh? The crackers are right in front of you."

"No, the other mouse. The light brown one. Where is it?"

"Oh, Biscuit? He's—" Shion tilted his head. "Wait, is that what you've been calling him? 'Cracker'? Has he been responding to that?"

"Shut up. Biscuit, Cracker—whatever. The names are stupid, anyway. So where is it?"

There was laughter in Shion's eyes as he answered, "He's at work."

"Work?"

"The mice have jobs, too. Everyone earns their keep around here."

Nezumi pondered this. What kind of jobs could a mouse do? The two in front of him chirruped and he stared at them. He had to admit that over his time in the bunker, he noticed Shion's mice were notably intelligent. They always knew when he was reading a play and sat quietly throughout the performances he gave them. They even seemed to understand simple commands. Do they collect things? Or maybe deliver them?

Shion snickered and Nezumi snapped out of his musings.

"Cracker… They must really be getting to you, huh?" He glanced over at Nezumi and laughed again.

Nezumi swiped the sleeve of crackers off the table and hurled them at Shion.

"Hey!"

The pack burst when it hit his shoulder, sprinkling crackers and crumbs all over his bedspread and onto the floor.

"Come on, Nezumi," Shion groaned. "Don't waste food."

"It wasn't like anyone was going to eat them." He peered over the couch. "Well, maybe someone will."

The mice had apparently given up on getting a story and dashed down to the floor when the crumbs cascaded onto it. The brown mouse took a cracker in its paws and nibbled on the corner, and the black one sniffed at a piece, took one bite and then spat it back out.

Nezumi brushed his hair back from his face and grimaced. The locks were not exactly coarse, but without the luxury of shampoo and conditioner, they had lost an element of lightness. He knew it shouldn't have mattered; he wasn't concerned with impressing people, and besides, he was confident enough in his looks that he was certain any shortfall in the condition of his hair wasn't going to destroy his appeal. Still, he couldn't help but suffer a twinge of wounded vanity. He slid his hair tie off his wrist and began collecting his hair at the nape of his neck.

"I was thinking…" Shion said suddenly.

"That never bodes well."

"If you could, would you want to contact anyone in No. 6? Like family or friends?"

Nezumi paused and glanced at Shion. "What brought this on?"

"I'm just wondering. I know they had you under surveillance, and it'd be really dangerous to even attempt something like contacting No. 6, but hypothetically, if you could get in touch with someone, would you do it?"

Nezumi allowed himself a second to contemplate the possibility, but it yielded no serious results. He wouldn't mind sending a briefly worded "Fuck you" to the old woman and that officer Rashi, but the satisfaction of doing so would be short-lived and unequal to the risk. Even if he had a message worth sending, or a person worth sending it to, the chances of it getting safely to its destination were abysmal. Not to mention it would put the recipient in danger.

"You have nothing to worry about," he replied as he fastened his hair up. "There's no one in No. 6 I'd want to contact."

"No one?"

Nezumi couldn't help the small smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I have neither the need nor the energy for sentimentality. When I decided to leave that city, I made sure to do so without baggage of any kind."

Shion gave him a weird look, as if he couldn't comprehend how he didn't have any connections worth contacting. He pressed his lips together in a way that Nezumi knew meant he wanted to comment, but the only thing he said was, "You should clean up those crackers."

XXXXX

I need to learn to defend myself better.

This thought had occurred to Nezumi several times in the past week, and after the trouble in town the other day, he was certain that if he intended to survive outside this room, he would need to brush up on self-defense. Since coming to the West Block, the violent encounters he found himself in had not worked out in his favor. He realized trying to attack Shion the first day had been a mistake. He hadn't been thinking properly and he was injured, but even so, he had been easily overpowered. And the gridlock with Safu had been a blow to his confidence as well.

He had considered himself relatively competent at self-defense, because of the amount of fistfights he got into when he was younger—he was definitely as good at it as one could get living in a supposedly conflict-free city—but he was painfully outmatched by West Block standards.

I could ask Shion. I'm sure he'd be happy to teach me, but… He bit the inside of his cheek. He didn't want to ask him. Just the thought of having to take instructions from that airheaded boy made him furious. Maybe there's something in this library.

The first two bookcases were all novels, plays, and poetry, so he passed them and went further into the stacks. In the third shelf back he found scientific journals of Ecology, Biology, and the like, and a few rows down there were self-help books.

Where does he get all this stuff? Does he actually read these?

At last he found a section that looked helpful. The first few books were medical texts about anatomy and physiology, but the book he eventually pulled out was on self-defense techniques specifically focused on pressure points. He scanned a paragraph about the carotid artery and decided it was a good start.

He returned to the room proper and considered his seating options. The couch, with its remembrances of many a restless night, was becoming increasingly odious to him. The bed was dismissed by the mere personal nature of it, and the chair by the organ, piled high with novels and poetry yet to be read, was less a chair now than an auxiliary table. The result, then, was that he had nowhere to sit.

"Screw this."

He covered the length of the room in two long strides, snatched his jacket off the back of the organ chair and pulled it on.

His anger dissolved in the full-bodied thud of the door slamming shut behind him, and the echo of the impact in the cavernous hall sent waves of satisfaction through his being.

He spent a long moment surveying the expanse of the West Block in the distance. This was the way it was supposed to be. He was not meant to be boxed up in an underground cubicle any more than he was meant to be boxed in by fraudulent utopian standards.

He looked westward and thought for what must have been the hundredth time, whether he should walk away again. The threat of Her interference still remained at the forefront of his mind, but his longing was equal to it. The exit was right before him, fanned out in countless solitary miles in either direction. He only had to move.

But, no, I'm trapped here like some mutt with a shock collar.

And it was all because of No. 6. He was brought to the West Block as an informant and weapon against No. 6; he was indefinitely confined here because She insisted on destroying No. 6. No matter where he turned, the conversation always led back to that accursed city. Even when he was outside its walls they bore down on him, polluting every avenue of escape.

He clicked his tongue.

I might not be able to leave yet, but I'm sure as hell not going to waste away six feet under the ground.

He remembered Shion mentioning a stream nearby, but he couldn't find any signs of it from where he stood. He approached the small patch of trees just a little way off from the entrance to Shion's bunker. They were mostly stripped bare now, so there was nothing to obstruct his view of the prime branches and footholds. He chose one and hoisted himself up onto a sturdy-looking branch about seven feet off the ground. The perch was not ideal. It bowed slightly under his weight and was almost too narrow to seat him, but he wasn't confident of climbing farther up with a book in his hand, especially when the sturdiness of the higher branches was unknown.

He settled back against the trunk and took a moment to survey the view from his new position. He had a clear view of the path into town, but that was it. No stream and no visible alternatives but the book in his hand. He placated his sour mood with a detailed passage on chokeholds.

He was nearing the end of the chapter, when movement on the path leading to town caught his attention. There was someone on the road, and they seemed to be heading in his direction. Even from a distance he knew it wasn't Shion. The form was too small and the coat was not russet but off-white. Although, when he squinted, he thought he could make out the Resistance bandana around the person's throat. It didn't take long to cross-reference the physical evidence with the possibilities of who could be paying Shion a house call.

He knew the exact moment Safu spotted him: halfway up the path, her steps slowed for several paces before she adopted a more purposeful stride toward the tree.

He offered her a greeting when she was near enough. His attempt at cordiality did nothing to curb her disapproval.

"What are you doing out here?"

He flashed the cover of his book at her. "Reading."

She scowled up at him from below the branch. "Does Shion know about this?"

"The reading? He wholeheartedly encourages it."

"Hilarious," she deadpanned. "You shouldn't be out here. There are satellites everywhere, and sitting in a leafless tree isn't going to protect you from them. In fact, it probably makes you easier to spot."

"Well, that, Shion and I did actually discuss,"—he reopened the book to a random page and began studying the diagram on it—"and we came to the conclusion that I had nothing to fear from the satellites. But thank you for your concern."

"What do you mean—"

"Shion went out to get lunch, but I can take a message, if you'd like."

He didn't look up from the page, but Safu's silence communicated her irritation just as well.

"What are you even reading?"

"Nothing of consequence."

"So I'm expected to believe it's usual for you to read books about pressure points in your spare time?"

"I don't collect the books, I just read them. If you have a problem with the selection, take it up with Shion."

"What would you need to know that for?"

He flipped disinterestedly through the pages. "Shion gets kinda loud sometimes. Thought this might help."

Safu bypassed annoyance and went straight on to anger. "That's not funny. Pressure points are dangerous. You could kill the person if you do it wrong."

He considered her words seriously. That was a problem. If it was that dangerous he couldn't really practice. He would have to study the techniques to perfection and hope that if and when he was forced to use them, he wouldn't accidently kill someone. Not exactly a reliable or comforting method. It still might be worth it to look this over, but I should look for another type of self-defense book. I think there were a few on martial arts. Or I could practice by myself with Shion's knife... His gaze sharpened on the girl below him.

"Is that so?" he said momentarily, placing a delicate frown on his face. "I guess it's not such a good idea, then." He tucked the book under his arm and dropped down from the branch. "What would you suggest instead?"

Safu scrutinized the change in his demeanor, looking as though she was thinking deeply about something. At last, she shrugged and folded her arms across her chest. "I could teach you how to use a knife, if you'd like."

Her answer was so unexpected that Nezumi barely had enough time to smother his surprise and convert it to a look of confusion. Well that was entirely too easy. He raised an eyebrow at the girl and leaned against the tree trunk.

"That's awfully kind of you. And what would I have to do for you in return?"

"Simple. I'll teach you how to use knives, and you get me the drives you made in No. 6. And no, I'm not mocking you. This is a serious proposal."

He smirked. "I know better than to take anything you say less than seriously. Which is why I'm going to ask you, in all seriousness, how you imagine I might go about retrieving the drives from the heart of No. 6. Has that influential contact suddenly materialized?"

"Sadly, no. But you're smart, I'm sure you could figure out a way." She smiled blithely. "Getting into No. 6 should be easy enough for a rat like you."

Nezumi hummed thoughtfully. "I see. Well, if you are serious about this, then I want a few things in return."

"You're already getting something. The trade is knife skills for the drives. A weapon for a weapon. It's a fair deal."

Nezumi shook his head. "Not quite. Infiltrating No. 6 is risky business by itself, but if I do succeed, I'd be handing over a weapon that's theoretically capable of taking down the Correctional Facility. I'm going to put all that power into the hands of a couple of kids and their zealot leader for a few knife lessons? Not a chance."

Safu narrowed her eyes. "You should be happy you're getting anything out of it. I'm being kind by asking, but I could just as easily force you to do it." That actually made him chuckle. It was the kind of thing he had expected and hoped she would say. "You think I'm joking?"

"No, I think you mean it. Which is why you lose," he said with a smirk. "You look confused. Would you like me to explain?"

"Don't patronize me," she hissed.

"Heh. I'll get right to the point, then. You're not above threatening me to get the drives, so they must be important to you, which means I can ask for whatever I want and you have to give it to me. You have no choice but to."

"I could always let Yoming have another go at you."

"Mm, yes. You could use violence to get me to comply," he said without interest. "I've never been tortured before; there's a good chance I'd break and give you what you want. But I don't think you have the guts to do it, and even if you did, you wouldn't," his voice dropped down to a seductive purr, "because Shion would never forgive you." Safu's glare wavered. "What would he think if he knew you had me tortured for your own selfish agenda?"

She clenched her fists, but made no further show of aggression. It didn't matter to him; she could keep her pretense of control up, but they both knew he had won.

"Not only did you approach me first, but you also gave me a condition that actually means something to you. I could do without the knife lessons, but your group of freedom fighters haven't got a chance of taking down the Correctional Facility without me." He straightened from his slouch and curved his mouth into a predatory smile. "The one with a weakness to exploit always loses. If you want the drives that badly, the price just went up."

"What do you want?" she ground out.

"Are we in business, then?"

"Screw you. Tell me what you need, and then I'll decide if I want anything to do with you."

Nezumi shrugged at her venom. "I'll need two things. The first is parts for my project—mechanical and computer parts. Might get expensive."

"Fine. What else?"

No hesitation at all. Then again, judging by their firearm collection and access to high-end items like superfibre cloth, their supplier must be good. I wonder who it is?

"Second, I want complete autonomy. That means free roam of the West Block, no babysitters, the works."

Safu grimaced. "I can't promise you something like that."

"If you can't promise me that, I can't help you. Good luck finding someone else with the skills you need."

He kept steady eye contact with Safu while she seethed. She looked like she wanted nothing more than to punch him in the face, but was restraining herself from doing so. He had seen the same look in many other people's eyes. Sometimes they did break composure and throw a punch at him, but most of the time they recognized their defeat and chose not to in order to preserve the remainder of their pride. Nezumi had pegged Safu as the latter type, and after a moment, he was proven correct when she let out a long breath and crossed her arms.

"Fine. I'll figure out a way to get you out whenever you want. But if I'm able to negotiate that for you, you have to promise to get me the drives without complaint. Do we have a deal?"

Nezumi smiled wanly at her. The conversation had gone better than expected; he didn't have to flirt or use violence, and he still got everything he wanted. Best of all, he would get it without having to deliver the drives first. Once he was granted a blank check for all the parts he needed and was free to roam the West Block, he could do what he wanted. I might not even have to get the drives at all.

The thought came out of nowhere, but Nezumi found himself seriously considering it. He didn't like No. 6, but he didn't have any allegiance to the West Block either. He was sure the virus he wrote would be able to take down the security system as programmed, but the problem lay with whether or not it was wise to give such a weapon to a group with a leader whose ambitions he was unsure of. From what he had seen and heard of Yoming, he could tell the man was radical—and that was putting it kindly. Nezumi didn't care if No. 6 was torn down, but he did care if Yoming was the one leading the demolition crew. He would almost rather that the elusive voice from his dreams do it; except that right now he wasn't all that convinced She was any more trustworthy.

Safu was watching him expectantly. "All right, you've got a deal," he said, keeping his face controlled.

"You'll get me the drives?"

"I'll see what I can do."

She leered at him. "Look me in the eyes and say it."

Nezumi growled internally at her paranoia. He hadn't given her any physical cues that he was lying, and yet she suspected him of it just because it was him. He gave her a pointed, "Are you serious?" look to see if he could dissuade her by making her feel she was being unreasonable, but she held firm.

"Look me in the eyes and promise you'll get the drives."

He took a step and bent forward slightly so that he was subtly, but assertively, invading her personal space. He smirked a little when she stood her ground.

"I'll try my very best to get you the drives," he said slowly, staring directly into her face.

"Liar."

"Contrary to what you seem to believe, I tell the truth most of the time."

She snorted. "That, I believe, but you're not telling the truth this time. You're a great actor; I'll give you that. You control your movements and facial expressions almost perfectly, but you can't control your pupil dilation. I can tell you're lying."

Nezumi didn't know whether to believe her or not. It could just be a ploy to make him admit he had been lying, so he didn't say anything or change his facial expression. Safu rolled her eyes at him.

"What, do you not trust me with the drives?" She studied his face, which he kept unreadable, but in spite of his efforts, she still decided that was the case. "You don't need to worry, I'm not as… zealous as the other members," she said, her voice dry with mockery. Then she fixed him with a hard look. "That's pretty low, lying about a deal. If you don't plan on taking this seriously, you can forget it."

He almost sighed. Since coming to the West Block it was getting harder and harder to reject the impulse. "I got it. I promise to get the drives for your glorious purpose, as long as I get what I asked for."

"I wish I could say it's a pleasure doing business with you, but then I'd be lying."

"So when do we start?"

"Start what?"

"The knife lessons, of course. That was part of the deal, was it not?"

"You are so greedy," Safu sneered. "First you act like getting taught self-defense is completely beneath your interest, and now you're acting entitled." She shook her head and turned to leave. "I'll speak to Yoming about letting you out. If he agrees, I'll send Shion with directions by tonight."

"Speaking of Shion, did you have a message for him, or…?"

"No. It's fine now." A trace of suspicion swept through him, but Safu's face gave away none of her meaning. "Oh, and by the way. If you try to use anything I teach you on Shion, I'll kill you."

She stood a moment to make sure her message was received and disappeared down the path to town.

XXXXX

This is a conversation I'm not looking forward to.

Safu had gone to headquarters to talk to Yoming, but as he was currently deep in conversation with another member, she had been forced to wait off to the side. She was growing more annoyed and anxious by the minute, and five minutes had already passed. She had already devised a strategy for how to best present the proposal, and she believed its chances of success were high. Even if Yoming wanted to refuse out of spite, his rational side wouldn't let him turn her down without a good amount of consideration.

The man with whom Yoming was talking laughed, and Safu saw that Yoming was smiling in return. I wonder if he's actually in a good mood or if he's only pretending. Yoming had many skills, but if you asked her, his finest and best-honed skill was the ability to put on a good face in public. She studied his body language for a sign of insincerity.

There! she thought in triumph, only to have her stomach drop. Yoming was tapping the tabletop every so often, which was an indication of restlessness and stress for him. Obviously, he felt he had better things to do, and having to speak to the other man was annoying him. I have to be really careful with what I say and how I phrase it.

At last, the men's conversation ended. They shook hands before the man left the building and Yoming turned back to the papers on the table. Safu crossed the room, stopping a few feet from him.

"Sir, if you have a moment, I have something I'd like to discuss with you."

"Safu." Yoming tapped his finger against the tabletop, as though considering whether he wanted to send her away. At last, he said, "Make it quick."

"It's about the elite."

"Again?" Yoming's eyes hardened. "The little prick wants something else, does he? Let me guess: he wants to be set free, am I right?"

"There's a little more to it than that," Safu tried to explain, but she could tell the older man had more to say. If there was one thing Yoming liked to do, it was talk, and he didn't appreciate being interrupted.

"He's got some nerve, demanding more things when he's been so damn useless. What was with that crap about experiments, huh? The deal was that I get information, not half-baked theories."

At first Safu thought he was accusing her of not delivering what she promised, but then she realized he wasn't looking at her, but past her.

"It doesn't seem like he understands the concept of being a hostage." His face darkened. "As I thought, Shion is too soft. I shouldn't have even bothered, I should've shot the brat the minute he showed up." Safu felt a twinge in the pit of her stomach. She was unsure if he was still talking about Nezumi. "Now I'm going to have to deal with this on top of all the shit I already have to do." Yoming turned on his heel and began to strut away, either dismissing her or because he had deemed her beneath his notice.

"He has a weapon that can destroy the Correctional Facility," she blurted.

It had the desired effect. Yoming stopped mid-step and looked back at her. "What did you say?"

Safu sighed inwardly. "Remember how he said he worked in the Robotics labs in No. 6? Well, it turns out he wrote a computer virus that can disable the security system in the Correctional Facility. He's agreed to retrieve it for us, in exchange for full freedom within the West Block."

Yoming sneered. "'Full freedom'? And what does that mean?"

"To move about without permission and without an escort."

"Mm-hm." Yoming's sneer morphed into a smirk. "And how do we know this virus even exists? I bet he's lying so we let him go, and then the minute our backs are turned, he'll make a run for it."

There was no point in telling him that Nezumi had been left alone for the better part of a week and hadn't run yet. The primary reason she didn't mention it was that it would get Shion killed for sure, but Safu also didn't want to say it because she hadn't quite figured out why he bothered staying. Shion didn't seem to think much of it; he was just happy that Nezumi did stay put. So it was left to her do all the analytical thinking, as was typical.

Shion was a charismatic and generally likable person, but she doubted even he would be able to win Nezumi over so quickly. The elite was far too defensive and antisocial for that, so there must have been another reason. But that's not what I need to focus on right now.

She cleared her throat quietly. "He's not lying. I made sure of it."

Yoming snorted. "Yeah, well, your lying radar hasn't exactly been spot on lately."

She was about to contradict him, but she quickly controlled herself. There was no point in arguing with him. Even if he is wrong.

"I don't think he's lying, but even if he were, he's useless the way he's shut up now. Why don't we make use of him? He did work among computers and machinery in No. 6, so let's see what he can do. And you're right; it would be unreasonable to let him be completely free. He is a hostage, after all. What if we only let him go out as long as he's shadowed by another member?"

Sorry, Nezumi, but sacrifices must be made. You were overreaching, anyway.

Yoming ran a hand along the edge of his chin, brushing the stubble there. The action was thoughtful and promising enough that she decided to push her argument further without waiting for his response.

"I know the elite hasn't done anything to warrant the trust, but if the virus exists and it can take down the Correctional Facility, it could be crucial to our effort. The Hunt is coming any day now. We need all the help we can get."

"You think I don't know that?" Yoming said testily. "Why do you think I've been letting that little brat get away with murder for this long? If I wasn't so fucking busy trying to get everything in order, I would've taken care of him already."

Safu watched Yoming stride to the alcove and stare out at the boxes stacked there. Each one was filled with a shipment for the upcoming battle: guns, ammunition, protective materials, and some nonperishable food.

They had known a Hunt was coming up for a few weeks now. One of the No. 6 officials let it slip to the girl he was meeting at the hotel, and she had taken no time in informing Safu of it. Since then, the Resistance's efforts had kicked into overdrive, stocking up on weapons and explosives to prepare for the fight it had been biding its time for since its creation more than two years ago. The impending Hunt was the reason Yoming chanced Nezumi's interception after lying low for so long.

After a moment, Yoming fixed Safu with an agitated scowl. "Alright, here's how it's going to be. The elite gets us the drives, but he must do all the work here at headquarters. He has mechanical skills?"

"I'm not completely sure about his abilities, but it's probable since he worked in the Robotics lab."

"Well, if he doesn't, he's going to find another way to be useful real quick. I'm not going to have him screwing around while everyone else is working. And under no circumstances is he allowed to waltz around the West Block by himself. If he leaves this building, it's with a member escort."

"I think that's reasonable, sir."

"You're damn right it's reasonable."

Safu wet her lips. There was the second part of the negotiation to carry out. It may be better to pretend like it's my idea at this point.

She began in a tentative voice, "Sir, he'll need parts to do his work, won't he? Machine and computer parts? If we want this to work, we'll need to order them."

Yoming's eye twitched. "Do you have any idea how much that will cost?" Safu had a notion that the answer was somewhere in the vicinity of a lot, so she kept her mouth closed. "It looks like the elite and I need to have a little chat," the man said after he had sufficiently stewed.

Safu merely nodded. Nezumi, you are so screwed.

XXXXX

I am so screwed.

Shion paced back and forth outside the warehouse leading to his underground bunker. He was hugging the package of dried meat and bread to his chest like a lifeline. He hadn't intended to bring back meat when he went out earlier. He didn't often go to the butchers, because the owner wasn't a kind man, and his meats were overpriced for their quality. But when Safu told him the news, he decided something a little more than the usual fare was required. He called in a favor he had with the butcher, and the man begrudgingly agreed to give him a portion of his better cuts.

Shion stopped and stared at the entrance to the staircase. His pulse was already erratic, but every time he thought about descending the stairs, he felt lightheaded as well. Low blood sugar also has these symptoms, he thought distractedly. Maybe I'm not nervous at all and I just need to eat something. It's possible. I shouldn't be worrying so much. I'm overreacting.

He forced his legs to go down the stairs and opened the door before he got the chance to convince himself of the far more likely possibility of Nezumi murdering him when he heard the news. He yanked the door shut and bolted it behind him.

"Are we under attack?" said a smooth voice.

Shion swallowed. Relax. The worst he'll do is tell me to leave, and if he does, I'll gladly do it. He winced at how pitiful his train of thought had become. Maybe Safu was right—I am too much of a pushover.

Nezumi was in his usual spot on the couch, lounging with a book in hand. There was also a stack of five books next to him and Shion smiled in spite of his nerves. It was nice to know someone appreciated reading as much as he did.

Nezumi placed the book page-down in his lap and cocked an eyebrow. "What are you acting all twitchy for?"

The question brought Shion back to his present predicament, and he tried his best to behave naturally until he decided on how to break the news.

"I'm not acting twitchy," he said as he crossed to the table.

"So you ran in here and slammed the door shut just because you felt like it?"

Shion's eyes met the pale grey of Nezumi's, and the amusement he saw there made his stomach plummet. "I was worried," he said, his gaze trailing over the pile of books on the table. "I remembered you didn't eat breakfast and it's already past dinner. I guess I got a little carried away rushing over, but I figured you must be really hungry by now."

"You're such a ditz."

Shion peered at him and saw that Nezumi was smirking. He felt a wave of relief. And you said I'm a bad liar.

"You figured correctly," Nezumi continued. "I'm starving. What'd you bring back?"

"You're not starving," Shion chided, placing the package he was carrying on the table. "I brought dried meat and bread."

Nezumi fished out a strip of meat and leaned back against the arm of the couch. The pose was casual, but Shion couldn't help but admire the smoothness of his movements.

Nezumi always looks so elegant. I wonder if it's a No. 6 thing?

Almost at the exact moment the thought came to him, Nezumi raised an eyebrow in his direction. Shion suddenly realized he had been staring and ducked his head in embarrassment.

He unwrapped the parcel, grabbed the first thing he touched—a piece of bread—and started nibbling it. But even after making all that effort to be busy, he was still acutely aware of the other boy's eyes on him. He tore a chunk of bread off with his teeth while he deliberated over whether it was a good idea to meet Nezumi's gaze.

Then Nezumi broached the dreaded topic. "I spoke with Safu today."

Shion gulped down his bite and winced at the sensation of it sliding down his throat. "Yeah, I know," he managed.

"Did she tattle on me for being outside?"

Shion frowned a little and exhaled. "I heard you made a deal. She gave me a message for you."

Nezumi waited.

"She said Yoming wants the drives, but he wouldn't fully agree to your terms. He won't order any parts until he speaks with you personally, and he says you have to work on all your projects in headquarters."

Shion searched Nezumi's face for any of the anger he expected, but he saw only discontent. That's good, he thought, because this next part is going to make him angry enough as it is. Okay, just like a band-aid.

Shion sucked in a breath and said the rest without pause. "You're also only allowed to go out with an escort from the group and you have to build whatever Yoming asks you to."

Nezumi's reaction was just as he feared. His face had lost all traces of good humor, and although it was apparent he was livid underneath the surface, he didn't say a word—it was somehow more terrifying that way.

I knew he was going to be furious. I told Safu she shouldn't have done that.

When Safu had informed him of the deal she'd brokered between Nezumi and Yoming, Shion had been scandalized. He told her that Nezumi wanted his mechanical skill to stay a secret, that he had outright refused to join the Resistance, but she only shook her head. It didn't matter in the end. Yoming already knew and had given his orders. There was nothing Shion could do but be the bearer of bad news.

"Safu also said…" He forced himself not to look away, even though he wanted to hide more than anything. "She said to tell you that even though you might be thinking she reneged on your deal, she explicitly said that if she was able to negotiate getting you out of the room whenever you wanted, then you had no right to complain. And since she did get you permission to leave the room whenever, she fulfilled her side. It was your fault for not catching her wording and making the terms more specific—that's a quote."

Something in Nezumi's eyes flickered at that and he hissed under his breath. "That conniving…." He glared murderously at the door, his lips twisted into a wry smile.

Shion swallowed thickly. "I'm sorry, Nezumi. Do you want me to leave?" A good part of him hoped the answer was yes.

Nezumi's gaze slid smoothly back to Shion and he studied the no doubt fearful expression on it. At last, he chuckled. The sound held no actual mirth, and it sent shivers down Shion's spine.

"Don't be silly, Shion. This isn't your fault. There's nothing to be gained by shooting the messenger, anyway."

"O-oh. Um. Okay..."

Even as he mumbled the reply he felt the blood draining from his face. He's pissed. He looks like he wants to kill something. The knife lessons are a horrible idea. If either of them get near each other with a weapon… Oh god. I should ask for tomorrow off so I can supervise.

He bit his lip. He couldn't do that, he knew. Yoming wasn't informed about the knife lessons and asking for the day off might cause him to be suspicious and investigate. He didn't think the man would take kindly to Nezumi learning how to handle a weapon. He couldn't let Yoming find out. But I should definitely carry the first aid kit with me tomorrow, just in case.

With Nezumi being so menacing and unapproachable, Shion scrambled to find something to do. He took a huge bite out of the bread he had been gripping in his hands. After he'd swallowed, he felt compelled to say something to quell Nezumi's anger. He couldn't be sure that he wasn't planning a vengeance against Safu, and even though he knew she could take care of herself, he'd rather not have to deal with anything unpleasant between her and Nezumi.

"About the deal… Um… I know things didn't work out the way you might've imagined, but if you think about it, it's not so bad. You finally get to build things like you used to in school. Important, complex things, and everyone in the group will really appreciate it. You might not see it yet, because of how intense Yoming is, but most of the people in our group are good people. Kaze, Safu, Yamase—they aren't violent by nature. Yoming may be extreme sometimes, but at least he's doing something. No. 6 has taken so much, and we can't stand by and do nothing anymore. We have to fight back. We have to stop them, or no one will.

"The drives you created, they're the first real break we've had in… It's the first break we've had, period. The map of the Correctional Facility has always been useless. No one can tell us how much security there is or where the cameras and sensors are. We didn't have a chance of stopping No. 6 before, but now we have hope that it might be possible. And it's because of the drives you created. You might be angry, but… I'm grateful to you. And I'm grateful to Safu for making it possible. You'll be helping a lot of people."

Shion meant every word that he had spoken, but he couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious once he'd finished. Nezumi was just staring at him. Shion was relieved that his anger seemed to have faded. There was a subtle ripple of annoyance in the hardness of the other boy's eyes, but otherwise, his face was blank, maybe even contemplative.

Shion felt another wave of sheepishness. Did I talk too much? He doesn't look confused or angry, but does that mean he's stopped listening to me altogether? He probably thinks everything I said is stupid. But I don't know how else to say it.

"Your friend Safu," Nezumi said suddenly. Shion blinked and waited for him to continue. "She's something. Really, I'm impressed. She's a real piece of work."

Shion pressed his lips together. The anger that no longer appeared on Nezumi's face was manifested full force in the deadly calm of his voice.

"She does what's necessary," Shion said evenly. "The same as anyone else. She did the best she could for you."

Nezumi sniffed and turned away from him. The moment his piercing gaze left him, Shion felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He hadn't realized, but he had been tensing his muscles all throughout the conversation and they were aching from the stress. He sighed softly and moved to take his jacket off. As his hand brushed over his side, he remembered that he had something in there he had planned to give Nezumi. This might not be the best time, though, he thought, staring at Nezumi's profile as he resumed eating by ripping the dried meat to shreds.

"Um… Nezumi…" Shion pulled the gold cloth out of his pocket and held it gingerly out in front of him. "This is yours."

"…What is that?" Nezumi said in a voice that told Shion he knew exactly what it was but didn't like it.

"Well, since you're helping us take down No. 6, you're kind of officially part of the Resistance. This bandana is proof of your membership."

He offered it to Nezumi, but the other boy made no move to take it or even look at it. His eyes were glinting like daggers, and they were aimed at Shion.

Shion cleared his throat and lowered his hand. "The bandanas are optional," he said quietly, placing the square of cloth on the table.

Nezumi rolled his eyes and lolled his head back. "When's my first knife lesson?"

"Tomorrow. I'll drop you off after work."

"Wonderful." Nezumi's mouth curved into a genuine smile. "I'm really looking forward to it."