"...realize that the axiom 'observation IS interaction' is certainly true in a physical (or, rather, quantum) sense. But to turn it into the underpinnings of some kind of ethical philosophy is ridiculous. Especially given the nature of your proposed undertaking – are you certain you haven't been unduly influenced by your prior 'work?'

It would be... regrettable if you chose to pursue this line of inquiry too far. I will, as always, do what I can to support you, but...

Look, the very first thing we learned: 'do not call up that which you cannot put down.' I fear we may yet be dragged away by our own excessive cleverness..."

[Letter fragment]

Chapter 1 – The Akamon Incident (I)

They say that the Chinese have a particular curse: "may you live in interesting times." I can certainly see where they're coming from – once you've been ambushed, deceived and led into the various agendas of aliens, espers and time travelers, you quickly learn to appreciate the great value and joy in simple things like being able to sleep in on a weekend, have a calm and peaceful chat with a friend, or having an elegant cup of tea brewed for you by somebody lovely.

...ah, but to be honest, it's sometimes alright to have interesting times. There was a world, a choice, that I left behind, locked in the stasis of an eternal December... but even if I had regrets, it would've been long since too late to express them.

I guess, then, that this was my karma coming back to me, or Kami-sama laughing at my folly. What I saw before me, outlined in police tape and highlighted by the buzz of the crowd, was far, far too "interesting" for my tastes. Oy – this better not be some stupid joke.

Joke or not, this was an utter catastrophe.

Haruhi was trembling slightly in shock and recognition – bluffing my way out of this going to be outright impossible now. Mikuru was flustered – and distracted, flinching as though somebody was yelling at her. I would imaging her superiors had plenty to say about this event. My cellphone, too, was ringing off the hook – I didn't even need to look to know it was from Itsuki.

Yuki was the only one that hadn't reacted. I suspect it was because she had calculated that it was too late to take any action.

The sky turned a dark, gray-tinged blue.

"Ah," said Itsuki, suddenly next to us amidst the still, abandoned silence of the Akamon. "I see we're too late."

Yeah, no shit. This was the absolute worst-case scenario. Whoever did this – but it' was too late to even worry about that, huh?

"Kyon... Kyon," stammered Haruhi. "What are you talking about? What's going on? This... this isn't a dream this time, is it?"

I sighed.

"Haruhi, there's something I've been meaning to tell you..."

Once, a long time ago, my dad and mom brought me to a baseball game.

We've always been Hanshin Tigers fans – though, by "we," I mean the Suzumiya clan in general. I was taught how to swing a bat by my uncle (never get him drunk – he'll rant for two straight hours about the time he was almost scouted), and Dad used to play catch with me before he got promoted at work and found himself working fifty-hour weeks at times. I kind of lost interest in the game not long afterward – except for joining the sports clubs a few times, I didn't really pay much attention to the sport.

It was the same at that game. I didn't notice the teams (though, apparently, the Tigers won that one). It was the crowds that caught my attention. The countless thousands of people, swarming like indistinguishable ants, cheering and roaring in one, unintelligible voice...

Haha, I was a weird kid, wasn't I? Mom loves to complain about that. I don't know why that crowd prompted me to think about my own insignificance. I don't know why it upset me so much to realize that I ultimately wasn't anybody special – just another face in the crowd, or voice in the din. Kids don't usually think something like that, right?

It still upsets me, sometimes.

But that was well more than six years ago now, right? I... well, I didn't exactly outgrow that attitude in middle school, but by the time I graduated high school, it was nothing more than a distant memory. Sometimes, I even forget that the Brigade was meant to track down aliens, time travelers, espers or the like – though, no matter what Kyon said, I was sure they existed. Screw Fermi's Paradox! There are countless trillions of stars out there in the sky and untold stretches of time! Isn't it the height of arrogance to assume that they don't exist just because you haven't seen them yourselves?

Though I didn't expect them to look so... familiar.

"Haruhi, there's something I've been meaning to tell you," said Kyon, and while I've seen him serious before, and heard him act resigned, looking cornered was pretty new. "Do you remember a night three- er, six years ago, back when you were in middle school?"

And then I knew what was coming out next.

"Haruhi, I am John Smith."

This next part, however, was unexpected.

"And... er... you created this world."

I'd been stammering like an idiot since I saw that sign, and I guess I was going to be stammering a little while longer.

"...wait, what?"

He explained it to me. He was patient, weary, and thorough. From the night of Tanabata – three years ago for him – to small things like why the computer club president back in high school had seemingly forgotten about his girlfriend and even our miraculous streak against the local college baseball team that one time.

He was tearing my world apart at the seams. He didn't have a choice, did he? It was all explained to me: Itsuki's constant side jobs, Mikuru's suddenly not so adorable helplessness whenever she looked at me, Yuki's... Yukiness, I guess.

And the way Kyon tried not to cringe in fear every time I protested or got angry at a detail.

There was a giant, before us, tearing buildings apart with its bare hands. It bellowed, a hoarse and deafening explosion of despair and pain as red lights danced and lanced around it – all in beat to my own mood and thoughts. Itsuki was presumably amongst those streaks of red – he had left, bowing apologetically as he... flew off. That alone... even if Kyon hadn't said the impossible, hadn't proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was the high school boy that Tanabata evening...

Didn't somebody once say that you should be careful what you wished for? Well, I was apparently my own genie, with as many wishes as I could possibly have.

And, bit by bit, it was dawning to me that this was an absolutely terrible thing.

"Why me?" I finally managed to choke out. "Why me, dammit? Why should the world get destroyed just because I'm a little upset?"

Kyon flinched, and I momentarily lost my hearing as pieces of the abandoned city around us erupted in violent pyrotechnics.

"See?" I yelled, somewhat... flustered. "Nobody else has that happen to them! What makes me so special? Why can't I control this? And why did you keep it a secret from me?" It's... not like I was on the verge of tears or anything, but can you blame me for being very upset?

I founded the SOS Brigade to have fun, dammit! I wanted to meet aliens, time travelers and espers because... not... actually because I believed in them... but because everyday life was so dull, so dry, I thought that it would take the extraordinary to make it worth living. Because...

Because I wanted my life to be special.

But not like this.

If we somehow manage to survive this, I'm going to kill the sonovabitch behind this incident.

Haruhi was on her knees, clenching herself tightly in what I can only guess was a mix of fear, self-loathing and trauma – a trauma that manifested physically in the world around us. I was feeling pretty helpless too – tired; the sort of tired you only get after you've finally put down a great weight you'd been ceaselessly bearing. Mikuru-chan was shuddering in fear every time something boomed nearby – which was quite often now; the Organization seemed to be fighting a losing battle against the growing number of gargantuan Shinjin rising out of the desolate cityscape. Only Yuki remained stoic – but her eyes were deadened. As powerful as she was, there were limits after all: in the end, even the Data Overmind was second at best to Haruhi's subconscious whims.

Which, really, left only one solution.

"I'm sorry," said Haruhi quietly. "It's my fault, isn't it? I'm... sorry."

I knelt before her and gently brushed the hair from her eyes. "Haruhi... no, it isn't." I guess that was a bit unconvincing – her melancholy wasn't shaken in the slightest. "Haruhi, look at me. Look." I shook her by the shoulders and glared. "The espers you made have been fighting all this time to keep you in check. The time travelers are here to keep you from throwing causality out of the window. The aliens can, and have, left you powerless when you've gone too far. If this is how your subconscious manifests itself, isn't that fine?"

I took her hand. Years have been building up to this point. Yet more may yet wait for us – the Akamon grafitti hinted ominously that everything we've gone through in high school was nothing more than training for what likely to come.

But I'm not running away and pretend that it had nothing to do with me anymore. It was far too late for that. Far too late, here at the brink of world's end.

"Haruhi, it isn't too late," I said, as soothingly as I could. "Remember..." My mouth went dry – dammit, this wasn't the place to get embarrassed! "Remember that night in our freshman year, at the school?"

"That... wasn't a dream, was it?" she said, still half-dazed. "You said... you had a ponytail fetish. ...pervert."

Even in shock, she could still find time to tease me, huh? Go figure. "I said you looked good in a ponytail, not – never mind. Haruhi. We can discuss this later. There will be a later. School hasn't even started yet. Do you want to go back?"

"...y-yes. Yes!" Recollection dawned upon her, then chagrin. "But I don't remember how! All I remember was that you had pulled me out of the school, and there was a giant... blue... thing hovering over us, then you... you..."

"'Sleeping Beauty,'" said Yuki, with the faintest glimmer of amusement in her eyes.

"I... I had to convince you that the world we lived in was interesting enough to continue living in," I said. "And..."

"...and you kissed me." Her eyes flickered, troubled. "You kissed me because the world was going to end."

I barked a laugh. "I kissed you because you looked good in a ponytail. I kissed you because you were about to leave everybody that cared about you behind. And, yes, I kissed you because I didn't want to be trampled by the nebulous, blue humanoid manifestation of your repressed psych."

She laughed weakly at that. "Those are pretty good reasons."

"Aren't they?"

She was silent then, fidgeting uncomfortably. "Kyon... do you like me?"

I nodded. "You're the most exasperating person in the world... but, I like that about you. I truly do."

"Then... I want you to prove it to me."

What.

She looked up at me, shaken but determined. "If we're going back... I want something to go back for. Something to... look forward to."

The worldwas about to be destroyed, Koizumi was probably being beaten up by things hundreds of times his size and weight class, and you wanted me to-

"Kyon!"

"G-go out... with... me," I blurted out, mumbling towards the end. Smooth move, Casanova.

"Mmm? I didn't hear that last part," she said. Y-you! Try to read the mood here! "Say it again."

"Suzumiya Haruhi-san!" I said, straightening up. If she wanted me to be dramatic, fine! I bowed as low as I could go. "Please go out with me!"

I probably had a complicated expression as she laughed. But I was glad she was laughing. The tremors stopped. The Shinjin were settling – disappearing as hazes of red light pressed them deep into the aether of this dreamscape.

And, hell, she wouldn't have been satisfied with a normal confession anyhow.

I laughed – because the look on his face was hilarious; because I was happy, for once, to be confessed to; because the enormous absurdity of our situation was just too much. I laughed, and he started laughing with me, and as the sky brightened into a gemlike sapphire, he held me tightly.

I caught my breath against his chest... then pushed away.

"Wait. Why are we still... here?" Kyon stared at the sky. "Er... Haruhi?"

"Wha- I'm not doing this? …am I?" I was just as bewildered. Things had calmed down, but we were still trapped in this "space." Red streaks of light flew at us – the 'Organization's' espers landed before us, breathing ragged and sweating from their fight. I didn't recognize many of them – but, wait, wasn't that the maid from the island?

"Itsuki! Mori-san!" Kyon turned towards them. "What's going on?"

"We're... we're not sure," breathed Itsuki. "Suzumiya-san's Closed Space has been nullified for a while now. This barrier is... foreign."

"External projection," said Yuki flatly. "Barrier program enacted by unknown entity. My connection to the Data Overmind has been nullified."

Kyon had told me of only one other person that had supposedly had abilities similar to my own – whatever that ability was. My mind raced back to the face of an irritating girl. But... but that didn't make any sense. Kyon said that Sasaki didn't move out of Nishinomiya – she went to a college closer to home, right?

"It isn't Sasaki," said Kyon tersely. His eyes swept the world around us, flickering between whatever details caught his attention. "I've been in her's before as well – there's an entirely different 'feel' to it, like she was willing it to be still. Yours is tempestuous – a constant state of 'change.' The Closed Spaces reflect their originator, right, Itsuki?"

Koizumi shrugged, his perpetual smile wavering from exhaustion. "We've very little experience with the Closed Space phenomenon, other than the ones created by Suzumiya-san. But I believe you are right."

"Right. And this one feels like some bastard's staring down at us like we're bacteria in a petri dish." Kyon scratched his head in frustration. "I assume you've tried to penetrate it?"

"Yes. Unfortunately... to no result. We don't have much more to offer, at this time."

"Yare, yare," sighed Kyon. "Thank you for your hard work. Asahina-san?"

"Ah – y-yes?" quavered Mikuru, standing up quickly and brushing the dust off her skirt.

"Can you still time travel?"

"Ah..." Mikuru closed her eyes, tensed up, then wilted from the effort. "I... I can't. The barrier extends laterally across four-dimensional space. I... I don't have enough power to breach it."

Kyon frowned. "Is it just a matter of power? If you had more... whatever it is that powers it... could you make it through?" Mikuru nodded uncertainly. "Well, we'll just have to gamble on it. Yuki! Can you still lend support?"

Yuki paused, then nodded slightly. "Will require data seed for process generation."

"Data what for the process huh?"

She pointed at... me. Er. I had a bad feeling about this.

"No effort on your part is required. Permission to proceed?"

Kyon held up a hand. "Wait, wait. This is safe, right?"

"Yes."

"A-and it won't hurt, right?" I interjected hastily. Her pause then was a bit... discomforting.

"Modifications complete. Process will be painless."

"...really, you should've done that first... Then... alright, permission granted."

Wait, my head was starting to spin-

…

..

There are almost thirty thousand students in Tokyo University, shared between its multiple campuses across metropolitan Tokyo – arguably the financial capital of the Eastern world, with a population count to fit. All of them were, of course, accessible by the metro rail, which theoretically made them easy to access no matter where you lived in the city. Practically, this meant that every car was like a can of sardines every morning – an impression accentuated by the somber gray suits of tightly packed businessmen that shared the route.

It was a bit overwhelming, when compared to the sleepy railways and roads of Nishinomiya. Well, wait – overwhelming would make me sound like some sort of backwater hick, and Nishinomiya wasn't that small. "Suffocating," maybe. Not enough damn air in this city – every cubic meter was occupied with what felt like four times the number of elbows as there were people, and there were a lot of people around.

I was almost literally poured out of the train when it reached the Hongo campus stop, staggering as I made those first few steps into relatively open freedom. The trains – I still haven't gotten used to the damn trains. Maybe by the end of this year – damn! Running late!

I hurried onto the campus. First day of the Spring term – and while most classes, even in Todai, wouldn't have much for me to do on the first day, there was still the line at the bookstore to beat, supplies to pick up, people to talk to... oh, right, breakfast. I should take care of that too, huh?

A peaceful start to the first day of school. I enjoyed it. Peace is to be cultivated, nourished and treasured whenever possible.

My first class of the day was just some generic language course. I'm no great writer, but it wasn't a challenging curriculum either – a few novels to pick up, a quickwrite, and some peer reviews. Kind of pointless, but relaxing. English would be a lot tougher, but necessary in the long run – I might often be accused of a lackadaisical attitude, but it doesn't mean I don't have ambitions, after all. Fluency in the world's universal lingua franca is not anything to sneer at.

Now, this next lecture may prove... interesting.

It's no secret that World History is mostly a matter of glossed generalities and hastily avoided controversies. Especially if said controversies involve, say, your own nation. While historians, in general, try to keep their facts straight (it's a bit difficult to get a degree, or garner grants, if you can't prove your assertions), the subject itself is a victim of a number of sociological factors – evidential revisions, cultural biases, and, of course, politics. The old saying "history is written by the victors" isn't a total exaggeration – but what needs to be understood is that the "victor" isn't always the one with the most guns or biggest bombs... nor is the victor today guaranteed to be the victor tomorrow.

I don't envy historians. Just keeping track of the known facts is hard enough. When you've pierced – or, in some cases, accidentally stumbled through – the veil of deceit and deliberate fabrication that enshrouds the world around us, it's altogether too easy to then dismiss everything you've ever learned.

Paranoia serves nobody well.

Some folks, however, don't begin to thrive until they do trip into the world backstage – natural actors, gifted magicians... born directors.

Ah, I am going to miss this peace.

Let us begin, then, this tale of subterfuge and conspiracy.

It's a very good thing that the first day of classes was fairly laid back – I was spending most of my time trying not to yawn, or if failing that, at least not falling asleep.

Not my fault. Seriously. The Organization insisted that I be there for their renegotiation of agreements with the time travelers (represented by a confused and out of her depths Mikuru, haltingly repeating whatever her superiors had ordered her to say) and the Data Entity (mostly Yuki saying "yes" or "no"). It would've probably taken less time if Haruhi hadn't insisted on being there – given her inherent role in all of this, that was pretty reasonable... except when she interrupted the proceedings every few minutes to demand that I explain something to her.

She had been kept out of the loop for six years, and back in the Closed Space, I'd only given her a quick, desperate sketch. There was a lot to explain. A lot of revelations. A lot of things that were new even to me.

The biggest bombshell of the night was dropped by Haruhi herself.

"Is... is it possible to give up my 'power?'" she asked. Stunned silence. "W-what?"

"D-don't be absurd!" blurted out Mori. She stopped halfway from rising and silently fumed as Arakawa stopped her with a raised hand.

"I... admit, I wasn't actually expecting that from you, Suzumiya-san," said Itsuki as he cast a worried look at me. "Isn't this the fulfillment of your dreams? We're all here – time travelers, aliens, and espers."

"No sliders, though," I quipped. "Probably waiting to make a grand entrance."

Itsuki made a strained smile in reply – sorry, bad joke. "As you said. Nonetheless... it was our operational paradigm that this world was defined by your will, Suzumiya-san. You're saying this isn't so?"

"I'm..." She had an uncomfortable look on her and clasped my hand under the table tightly. "I'm... not a saint. I've caused a lot of trouble, with or without these powers. What I really wanted was to have an extraordinary life – I didn't want the entire world to depend on whether or not I approved of it."

"Suzumiya-san's come a long way in three years," said Mikuru, smiling slightly.

"W-well, I am your brigade leader, you know!" exclaimed Haruhi, regaining some of her dignity. "I have to set an example for the rest of you!" She wavered hesitantly and turned to Yuki. "You... you've done it before, right? Turned my powers off?"

"Incorrect," said Yuki, unblinking. "I do not have the capability to create nor destroy data. Your capabilities were manipulated instead to reside within myself for a time."

"...why did you give them back?"

Yuki looked down. "The situation was suboptimal to my function. I was sent solely as an observer." Her eyes flickered up at me – she was uncomfortable and worried, and probably for good reason. The events of that December were... complicated, in more ways than one.

"W-well, it doesn't matter," I said, interrupting the inquiry. "It didn't work then, after all."

"I guess you're right," said Haruhi, crossing her arms and sighing with discontent. "Aw, man, this is so annoying! What's the use of godlike powers if you can't control them? If your boss wants to unravel its secrets so much, why doesn't he just take it?"

"That would be an acceptable solution," said a new voice. Everybody backed away quickly as a rip opened in midair, blinding light streaming out, and a girl with seafoam colored hair stepped out behind Yuki, who had frozen in mute surprise.

"Emiri," I bit off as I quickly stepped in front of Haruhi, blocking her off as she yelped in shock. "This doesn't concern you."

"I'm afraid that's not true," she said, smiling slightly. "Yuki is, after all, negotiating on behalf of the Integrated Data Sentient Entity. I, too, am a representative. Her supervisor, in fact."

"Haruhi, Kimidori Emiri and her allies are why Yuki's been sick so much this last year," I growled out. She pouted at me, almost humanly, the little monster. "Don't trust her. Don't accept that deal."

"Kyon, please," said Emiri, her smile unwavering. "We are the only ones that can fully isolate and contain her capabilities. Not the time travelers, not the espers, and certainly not yourself or Suzumiya-san. Isn't this the optimal scenario for all of us?"

"Is it?" I countered. "You suddenly seem quite concerned with our mutual welfare – where was that concern when you sicced an eldritch deity on Yuki?"

Emiri looked up thoughtfully, as if trying to remember some minor detail. "Oh, do you mean the situation with the Canopy Domain? That was so many cycles ago, I've nearly erased it from my recall."

"Yuki!" said Haruhi suddenly, looking down. Yuki was still kneeling, still as death. "Yuki, are you alright?"

"Of course she is," said Emiri cheerfully. "Why wouldn't she be? I must note, however, that my sponsors are expecting an answer."

"I didn't ask you!" snapped Haruhi. "Yuki, what's wrong?"

"...debate," said Yuki suddenly. "The IDSE is in... involved debate within itself." In other words, Emiri was only representing a fraction of the Data Overmind's consensus – and considering Yuki's worrying pause and tendency for understatement, it was probably an all-out war between them. Scary... "My faction wishes for minimal interference. We believe it to be harmful to our goals of autoevolution to interfere destructively with the contextualization of your powers, Suzumiya Haruhi."

"Nagato-san, desist in your interference," said Emiri, her placid smile frozen solid. "...Nagato-"

Yuki suddenly stood, as though yanked up by strings, and awkwardly approached us. She turned around, facing Emiri stoically.

"Termination of relations," she said quietly.

"We have majority consensus for our policy," said Emiri, her smile slowly dying. "We recognize that, if left unchecked, her capabilities have a high likelihood of either self-extinguishing, or destructive cascading. You insist on reneging?"

"Yes," said Yuki, immediately. The air seemed to chill – no, wait, I could see my breathe. The air was literally chilling. The whole room held its breathe as two godlike entities were poised on the brink of overt violence right in front of us.

"WAIT!" yelled Haruhi desperately. "Hold on! Dammit, is this always going to happen when I make an idle comment?" Yup. "Oh, shut up. Kimidori! I'll be very, very angry if you do anything to harm Yuki, you understand?"

Hesitation, and the ambient temperature climbed back up. "I understand, Suzumiya-san," said our eternally polite ex-school council secretary. "I am sorry for the distress I've caused you. However, the situation-"

"The situation is up to me!" said Haruhi imperiously. "My powers, my decision! Frankly, between Kyon's hints about your treatment of Yuki-chan, and how you've behaved here, it seems to me like you don't want me to give it up!" Emiri's eyes widened in surprise as she began to protest. "Well, you convinced me!" Haruhi clenched her fist in frustration – I could see the espers growing more and more nervous. Actually, so was I. "I can't trust you. The Organization can't do it either, huh?" Itsuki shook his head. "And time travel won't help-"

"Ah... actually," said Mikuru meekly, cautiously rising up from where she was hiding during Emiri's aborted showdown with Yuki. "I... might have a solution..."

And there you have it. We were up until well past midnight as Mikuru worked her way through her group's bureaucracy to get permission for a set of control/inhibitive bracelets – technology that allowed me to "dampen" her powers at-will – a capability Haruhi immediately and enthusiastically had me practice. There was an incident involving a spontaneously generated flock of penguins that would've probably had been hilarious if she hadn't have them chase me around with their damnably sharp beaks. In other words, Haruhi was partying – and those useless espers would rather laugh at my plight than help me get away from those freaking beaks.

Emiri was smiling bemusedly at our antics. She stopped smiling when Haruhi suddenly stopped everything, and hugged Yuki from behind, casting a fierce glare in Kimidori's direction.

"Mine," she hissed. "You won't hurt her anymore."

Emiri blinked. "You don't mean to-"

"Mine. My brigade member. My friend. Leave her alone – or else."

Did the air just thrum?

Emiri slowly raised a hand. "Acknowledged." She started to shimmer and fade from sight. "Further action will not be taken against... that unit." That alien smile showed teeth as it disappeared.

"Thank you," whispered Yuki.

Later that day, Itsuki was waiting outside the lecture hall with two cups of coffee in hand. "There are two things that worries me," he said, offering a cup.

"You are a lifesaver," I breathed as I carefully drank it. "Still another lecture to go today – I think I'm dead on my feet."

"Hah, hopefully it'll be a short one," said Itsuki as we walked off. "But, as to my earlier comment..."

"You think the IDSE provoked Haruhi at the Akamon."

"Why – yes. How did you figure?"

"Process of elimination," I said, nodding to myself. "Mikuru didn't fully see the sign that night. The Organization, I'm willing to bet, wasn't fully formed until after that Tanabata. That leaves me and Yuki, and I would really have preferred to break the truth to Haruhi more gently."

"Of course. Then, about Suzumiya-san's declaration of protection for Yuki. I don't think-"

"Yuki was not responsible," I said, flatly, staring at Itsuki. "She tried to stop us."

"She was late," said Itsuki, raising an eyebrow. "She could have altered the sign, distract Haruhi-"

"Stop," I said, glaring at him. "She broke rank with the IDSE. I have many, many reasons to trust her. Besides, I heard about the sign from Taniguchi, back in freshman year – there was probably a newspaper article about it; Nishinomiya was a small town."

"Ah, of course. I apologize," said Itsuki mildly. "You're right. We shouldn't suspect our allies without due cause."

We walked silently towards the student commons.

"And the other thing?" I asked.

"Hmm... how to say it..." Itsuki paused, his eyes narrowed in thought. "Isn't it remarkable? That the Time/Space Agency's technology be so well-suited towards mental control? That it should be so compatible with Suzumiya-san's powers?"

Now it was my turn to pause in my tracks.

"What are you saying-"

"Ah. Koizumi-san; Yorimoto-san." A tall, thin man had suddenly appeared from around the corner of the building beside us. Roughly our age, I think; dressed conservatively in a dark sports jacket and slacks. He had a stern look on his face, and thrust a business card towards us, somewhat rudely. "I am glad to have caught up to you."

I glanced at the card. "Ninohira Consultancy?"

"Yes. I have been tasked by a client to ask you about a particular incident at the Akamon."

Thanks again to Chris A. and Charlotte W. for their tremendous aid as proofreaders and sounding boards.