Mission Street
Chapter One: Yesterday
Name: Shindou Hikaru
D.O.B.: September 20, 1986
Age: 18
---
Click.
The safety catch was off.
Hikaru saw Tsutsui's hand shaking, just ever so slightly, and knew there and then that the dark-haired boy would never be able to pull the trigger.
As if in a nightmare in slow motion, Hikaru saw the other figure pull out a gun and level it at them. Kaga wasn't going to be hesitant like Tsutsui, he wasn't going to pause or think twice about shooting them.
Life and death. Tsutsui Kimihiro excelled at solving problems and dilemmas like this. He always saw, with the clarity of logic, the best response in simulations and hypothetical situations. That sheer brainpower had been what made him so valuable as a member of the police; he could unravel mysteries like no one else. But the brainy, bespectacled Tsutsui couldn't fire at someone who had once been his best friend.
Not even if that someone was now a most wanted criminal. Not even if that someone would have no qualms about killing him.
Hikaru quickly drew his own weapon, but even as he aimed for the target, less than ten feet away down that dark, empty street, with approaching police sirens ringing in his ears -- even as he prepared to fire -- he knew it wouldn't be fast enough.
The gunshots exploded in the black night, less than milliseconds apart, one after the other. Hikaru saw Tsutsui collapse, the gun dropping from his hands. Hikaru watched him fall, even as his own shot fund its mark and at the other end of the dim street, Kaga crumpled to the ground as well.
The sirens and screeching tires did nothing to comfort Hikaru; the backup had come too late, as usual. That seemed their only calling in life, he thought bitterly, to show up just after the real fight, after everything was done, after everyone who needed saving was already dead.
Hikaru dashed the few steps to Tsutsui's side, coming to a halt on his knees, knowing in his heart what the truth was. But his hope refused to die, not until he saw those blank eyes, gazing up lifelessly from behind the thick glasses, and the blood dripping from a bullet hole in the side of his head, dripping down his cheek, staining the collar of that white linen shirt, pooling beneath his dark hair...
In Hikaru's opinion, and probably everyone else who knew, Tsutsui had been dealt a crappy hand by Life. At least -- a bullet through the head -- it had been a quick way to go.
It still wasn't fair. Justice didn't come to the deserving, not before the International Governmental Organization was formed, and not even now, it seemed. Life was still the same as ever, despite their efforts.
Jaw clenched tight, eyes burning with tears of rage and frustration, Hikaru made a silent vow to himself.
He would see to it personally that those damned rebels were caught. They had caused Tsutsui's death -- Tsutsui, the embodiment of Goodness and Gentility in Hikaru's short life. Tsutsui, his mentor, teammate, friend.
As long as he could still stand, Hikaru would track down every last one of the enemy and bring them all to justice.
"I promise you, Tsutsui-san."
---
Ogata glanced at the eighteen-year-old standing in front of his desk, and slowly drew the cigarette away from his lips. A thin veil of smoke drifted up past his face, across his glasses.
Smoke and mirrors. That was all this investigation had been so far. Luck (or lack thereof) and guesswork. Young Tsutsui had made some remarkable progress, Ogata had to admit. It really was unfortunate, not to mention annoying and exceedingly inconvenient that he'd gotten himself killed at this point.
"So, then, report. And you can drop the formalities, Shindou-kun. I don't care about that pompous pretense."
"Yes, sir."
Ogata tapped a few ashes from his cigarette into the ashtray, then decided to snub the whole thing altogether. Shindou's report could take the place of nicotine in his system for now. Not that Ogata was addicted -- not to nicotine, not to alcohol. It was just a convenient method of relieving dullness in his life.
Most people would not apply the adjective "dull" to being head of Sector B of the Japanese department of IGO, but then again Ogata Seiji was not most people. Certainly, the world had plenty of problems that needed the attention of the police. However, just because there was crisis brewing didn't mean excitement had come along for the ride as well. Just the opposite, actually; the case was so impossible there was little to nothing anyone could do except continually put himself in danger's way and hope something would hit -- and leave a clue. Not exactly what had happened to Tsutsui.
And besides, danger and urgency as an unending stream of worries and rumors and what-we-should-be-doing-right-now became exceptionally predictable after a while.
But then, there was Shindou Hikaru, with his seemingly unending energy and determination. He was beginning to remind Ogata of the old ambitions and dreams he'd had. People had described them as "blonde," very obviously making (in his opinion, poor) references to his unusual hair color, but Ogata paid them no mind. After all, he was the one sitting in the chair as Chief of Sector B, not them.
"You and Tsutsui Kimihiro had been investigating a lead stemming from a...smuggling case, am I correct?" It wasn't really a question. "Your impromptu team was put together just two weeks ago, with Tsutsui-kun as senior and you as the assistant."
"Yes, sir." Shindou's voice wasn't exactly monotone, but it betrayed little other than the bare facts. Almost emotionless -- and quite unlike the usually volatile, expressive eighteen-year-old junior officer. Interesting; Ogata made a mental note of it. Something (and he had an excellent idea of what, obviously) had affected him strongly. "Tsutsui-san had come to the conclusion that Kaga Tetsuo, one of our wanted criminals, was involved in more than just the smuggling of illegal substances. We tracked him, suspecting that Kaga was in some way part of the 'underground rebellion' that -- if you'll excuse me for saying -- has the entire force stumped. Tsutsui-san was sure if we could get information from him, it would be crucial to the investigation."
"But now he's dead." Ogata adjusted his glasses, fixing the young policeman with a glance that was neither absent nor piercing. It made Hikaru uncomfortable enough. "And dead mean can't give information."
"No, sir." At least he knew better than to try and argue or reason. Ogata felt a twinge of satisfaction for the young man. He was a promising one.
He gave the slightest of nods. "Continue."
"We found out Kaga was accustomed to playing Shougi with his friends every weekend. It was only a matter of planning and staking out the area, and being careful not to alert him to the fact. Tsutsui-san and I watched the house carefully. Kaga came during my watch tonight, and I called Tsutsui-san. He went to request back up and arrived at the scene soon after."
Oh, the irony. Back up? Back up was the more laughable curse to ever have graced the workings of the police force. Ogata refrained from adding any disparaging comments on that particular matter. He only said, "But somehow this Kaga got word of you." It wasn't a question.
"Yes, sir." Shindou swallowed imperceptibly, but Ogata noticed anyway. "Only moments after Tsutsui-san came, we saw the back door of the house open, and Kaga slipped out. The door opened right into the alley where we were waiting, and as soon as he spotted us he turned to run. We gave the proper warnings before firing..."
Hikaru paused a fraction of a second. Ogata noted that too; he could tell Shindou was trying to keep his voice the same monotone to the end of the narrative. "But Kaga had a gun, and he was faster than I was. He fired at the same time as Tsutsui-san, and I was too slow to do anything."
So, that was all. Not really much more than what Ogata had already gleaned from the hurried murmurs circulating the station right now. It wasn't everyday a cop got killed (at least, not in the open news to everyone in the force). Rumors spread like wildfire, here as with everywhere else.
"I see." Ogata reached into his shirt pocket for the pack of cigarettes there, and kept his voice perfectly bland as he said, "You'll write a formal report for all this, of course, so it can be filed away in the archives."
Shindou made no comment as Ogata began smoking again, only nodded and agreed just as mildly. "Yes, sir."
Taking a draw on the cigarette, Ogata breathed out the milky smoke with an inaudible sigh. Even if the extensive training and mental preparations were present, nothing could truly dull the shock of losing an acquaintance to a violent death. Ogata wouldn't say he was looking out for the young man, exactly. He though of it simply as a necessary action to mold hope for the future. It wouldn't do for Shindou to break over this, so early in his career.
"You can hand in the report tomorrow morning. Go home and get some rest, Shindou."
But apparently, Shindou didn't recognize a dismissal when he heard one. Or if he did, he chose to ignore it. "Ogata-san, if I may speak with you about something?"
"You're speaking right now," Ogata pointed out, but mildly of course. Keen eyes fixed on him from behind a pair of glinting glasses. "Let me guess. You've changed your mind from last week?"
He saw Shindou tense slightly at being read like an open book. Ogata smiled inwardly. Interesting.
Hikaru hated the way Ogata managed to sometimes (or was it always?) manipulate people without seeming to ever interfere at all. It unnerved him.
Yes, he had said no last week when Ogata asked if he would join Special Ops and take part in the full-time, active field investigation for the untimely and most definitely coordinated murders of three IGO leaders. The assassination case, it was commonly called.
Hikaru had declined.
Actually, he'd flat out refused. Politely, of course, but it was a refusal nonetheless. Any sane person would have. The field investigation of the assassination case was for the suicidal, or the really, truly hard-core believers in IGO, righteousness, and the public good. Hikaru was neither, and he had his mother to think of besides.
Shindou Mitsuko was freaked out enough already with her son in the police force. He would be sending her to an early grave if he signed up for Special Ops, and took part in the investigation that required putting one's personal health and safety on the line, on call twenty-four seven, three sixty-five. Those guys on the investigation team greeted every morning with no assurance of living to see the sunset of the same day.
Hikaru didn't want to toss away everything like that. He couldn't, when Ogata had asked him, say yes to such a hopeless gamble.
Yet now, his perspective had been completely skewed by tonight's events. Or perhaps his perception was finally cleared. He had seen that even on a low-key mission, as the Kaga case had been, death and violence were probably, even to be expected. And what about Tsutsui-san? Hikaru had made a promise. He still believed it in his heart, and he wasn't about to turn quitter now.
Justice had to come, somehow, some way. The world shouldn't be like this. Hikaru had never felt so strongly or seriously for anything before.
Ogata was waiting expectantly. Hikaru took a moment to gather, sort and file all his thoughts.
He was going to make a decision, and he wasn't going to turn back.
When he replied, his voice was set and determined. His green eyes were hard and cold, yet at the same time they smoldered with resolution.
"I want to take part in the active field investigation."
Ogata slowly tapped his cigarette over the ashtray, watching the gray flecks fall among withering embers.
"Ogata-san."
"I hear you, Shindou." Ogata lifted the cigarette again, but didn't put it to his lips. His eyes fixed back on Hikaru. "And I'm thinking." He smiled slightly, but while it didn't quite reach his eyes, it wasn't exactly humorless either. "I know you want to ask me: thinking about what?"
Hikaru held his tongue, and returned his gaze steadily.
Ogata continued. "I'll tell you. I'm thinking about how you said no so quickly, so decisively last time I asked you about this, as if you thought anyone would be out of their mind to agree. I'm thinking of how you probably saw the risk of death to be foolish. I'm thinking of how those who are currently, and those who used to be, on the investigation team knew and weighed the same risk you did -- and determined their own lives to be less valuable when compared with the world. And I'm thinking...that I won't let you join the team, not just because you had a sudden change of heart."
He paused, obviously waiting for a response.
Hikaru's eyes flashed, but there was also a hint of confusion in his expression. "Why? You told me the team needed people badly, since almost one wanted to do it. I want to do this, Ogata-san."
"I know you do now," Ogata said calmly. "But I have no idea if you'll change your mind again in two, three days. They are committed. The question is, Shindou, are you?"
Hikaru started to reply but Ogata but held up a hand and cut him off before he could speak.
"Answer me tomorrow. Go home, think it over, and I'll ask you again tomorrow when you've had time to cool your emotions and think about this. If the answer remains yes, I will consent."
Hikaru was not happy with this, but he was smart enough not to argue any further. Ogata had his reasons, and they made sense. Gritting his teeth but remaining an outward composure, Hikaru bowed, and excused himself from the office.
---
By the time Hikaru finally got off the bus and was walking down the road toward his house, it was already past midnight, and drawing close to three in the morning. Yet, though he felt weary, it wasn't exhaustion or sleepiness. He had never felt more awake in his mind; it was the rushing clarity of thoughts that was wearing down his stamina, all those thoughts simply exceeding his capacity for holding and processing them all at once. He was tired of all these thoughts burning in his mind.
He wanted to do something, to be busy, anything to keep his thoughts off what had happened tonight. But he couldn't. A door to justice has finally been shown to his blind eyes; Hikaru suddenly had resolve, he had a goal. His life had been altered.
He couldn't stop thinking about the past few weeks, the exhilaration of knowing he that what he was doing was useful, was good, knowing that he was on the path to achieving something worthwhile.
He remembered Tsutsui, that gentle smile that hid the sharp genius behind thick, black-framed glasses. Hikaru remembered how different he had looked then, gun in his shaking hands; though his eyes had been half hidden by darkness, but the pain in them had been unmistakable. Hikaru tried to check his thoughts, but they barreled past him and all he could do was hang on as they swept him away.
Tsutsui.
He remembered the moment they'd met, when Hikaru came in for his first real day as part of the IGO police force. No one had appointed Tsutsui to be his mentor, but the kind strategist had taken it upon himself to show Hikaru around, get him acquainted with others, get him used to the station, and correcting him gently when he made a mistake with filing reports or some other minute but important detail.
He remembered Tsutsui's gentle laughter, and his kind ways.
He remembered the working long, arduous nights on the Kaga case. The only thing that kept him encouraged, kept him going, was Tsutsui's encouragement, Tsutsui's unfailing dedication and belief.
He remembered the triumph, thinking the successful end was in sight.
He remembered the heart-pounding fear as everything went wrong.
He remembered the sound of the safety catch going off, the feel of metal heavy in his own hands, the knowledge that it would be too late. The gunshots, splitting the air, his arm tingling from the aftershock. Kaga collapsing in a heap, somewhere in the dimness; Tsutsui falling to the ground, right beside him.
And blood, so much blood, pooling beneath Tsutsui's dark head, his eyes closed, glasses askew.
Dead.
"...Hikaru?"
The sound of running footsteps snapped him free of the relentless thoughts. Hikaru instinctively felt for the revolver at his side...then realized belatedly that he was unarmed, and that he recognized the owner of that voice.
Like a dream, out of the past, Akari came running down the street toward him, much the same way she used to when they were still in grade school. But now, six years later, some things were noticeably different. Memories were forever trapped in time, unchanging, but reality moved forward. Akari was now a young woman, no longer childishly cute, but beautiful. She had cut her hair, so now the dark red locks hung to her shoulders rather than trailing past her waist, and her clothing was definitely much skimpier than it had been back in sixth grade.
But her eyes were still large and gentle (though mascara and eye shadow stole at childish innocence), and her voice still held the same sweet, chiming quality as before.
Along with a measure of worry, mixed with urgency.
"Hikaru!" She ran right up to him, paused less than two feet away, hesitating, wavering, then impulsively -- and before Hikaru could say or do anything to stop her -- she flung her arms around him. "Oh, Hikaru, thank goodness. I was so scared! But I knew you had to be okay, I just knew it--"
"Akari, what--" Hikaru still wasn't used to being hugged, especially not in public. It was the dead of the night, and no one was around, but still. He tried to squirm away.
Akari released the death grip that was crushing the air out of his lungs, but still held tightly to his arms, as if afraid once she let go he would disappear. "The news! Oh my god, the news -- Kumiko-chan heard it first, and when she told me, I just freaked out!" She paused, taking a breath. "Sorry. I'm not making sense, am I?"
"Uh, no. And why are you out so late?"
"Oh, that. I was at a party," Akari said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Then again, Hikaru supposed it was natural for a normal teenager his age to be going to late-night parties. It was the weekend, after all. But he wasn't exactly a normal teenager, so he wouldn't know.
"That's where I was when Kumiko suddenly came over to me and told me she just heart on the eleven o'clock news that there had been a shooting nearby, in the city. She said two police officers were involved, and that someone, or someones, had been killed. IGO released no names, of course, but the media has a pretty good idea of what happened, and..."
Akari shook her head, as if afraid just saying it might jinx a false rumor into truth. But then she continued, "They said the police involved were Tsutsui Kimihiro and Shindou Hikaru." She looked up at him again, with a smile of relief. "But you're okay. The news was wrong. You're okay!"
Hikaru couldn't smile back at her; his facial muscles refused to cooperate. Akari's smile slipped. "What's wrong? Are you okay? Are you hurt?"
"I'm fine," he replied. "But..."
Akari's expression froze. Her voice was hushed. "Oh my god. Are you saying...that someone really was killed?"
Hikaru shook his head, but said nothing to discredit her guess. "Damn reporters," he muttered, and his comment was punctuated with a small, frustrated sigh. "They weren't supposed to have reported anything yet."
"Hikaru." Akari's voice was becoming more and more anxious, as her expression grew increasingly worried and alarmed. "Hikaru, what happened?"
He shook his head, gazing at the dark, empty street. "You don't need to know."
"But--"
"It's okay, Akari." He tried to sound reassuring, and even managed a small smile as he looked back at her. "Really, I'm fine. It's nothing you need to worry about."
"Well...okay." Akari let the matter drop, and fell into step beside him as he continued walking down the street toward his house -- and hers, which was actually closer. "So, how have you been lately?" she asked. "I feel like I haven't seen you in forever, Hikaru."
"A month isn't forever," he pointed out.
"It feels long enough."
There was a slight pause. "I've been busy," said Hikaru. Then, to avoid further questioning on a topic that was sure to make him think of Tsutsui again -- and that really wasn't what he needed right now -- Hikaru turned the question back to her. "How about you? How's life as a senior in high school?"
"Stressful," Akari sighed. "But fun too. There are a lot of people, and friends, and...um, friends." She seemed a little embarrassed.
Hikaru raised an eyebrow. Akari shook her head, clasping her hands behind her back unconsciously in a gesture that Hikaru knew meant she was shy about something. "Forget it," she muttered. "That's girl talk, and you probably don't want to hear it."
"One or multiple partners?" was the unexpectedly arch question.
Akari glanced up, the picture of insulted womanly pride. "Hikaru!"
He grinned innocently as she glared at him. "I meant, have you been dating only one guy all this time, or has there been more than one boyfriend?" The laughter was practically audible in his voice.
Akari stuck out her tongue at him, a childish act no one would have expected to see from a high school beauty in designer clothing, and pouted slightly. Hikaru only raised an eyebrow, waiting for an answer.
"One," she said in a small voice.
"I bet I know who he is," Hikaru said in a slightly sing-song voice, as if he was still a first grader, and not a police officer faced with the grim realities of life.
Akari's look asked her question for her: Oh really?
Hikaru smiled. "Mitani?"
Akari looked surprised, then blushed.
"I thought so." Hikaru looked too smug for his own good. Akari elbowed him for good measure. His grin didn't recede. "So, have you two decided on the kids' names yet?"
The indignant expression was back, this time accompanied by embarrassment and exasperation. "Hikaru!"
"What? You two have been going steady since, what, junior high, and still no plans for the future?" He was fighting to keep from laughing.
"You suck," Akari muttered in the same tone she used to use when he teased her in kindergarten.
"Love you too, Akari."
She started at the words, before realizing his tone was completely sarcastic, but only with good humor. He didn't mean anything like that. It was both a relief and disappointment; something like the pain of a memory. Akari couldn't help but remember the horrible crush she'd had on Hikaru when they were little, and how he had never even shown an inkling of the same feelings for her.
Some things would never change, and she didn't want them to change. Yuuki was her boyfriend, and Hikaru was her best friend. It was better this way; this way, she could love both of them without feeling guilty, with no complications.
Akari glanced up and realized that they had already reached her house. In fact, they'd just walked past the front gate. She stopped, and Hikaru did as well. It was late, but Akari wished it wasn't, because she felt wide awake, and desperately wanting to keep talking with Hikaru, just spending some time with him. She had meant it when she said it felt like forever since they last talked; ever since Hikaru joined the IGO police force, they'd been seeing each other less and less. Being best friends meant nothing when she couldn't even spend a day with him because his work ate up all his time.
"You want to come in for a while?" she asked, hopefully. "My parents are away for a few days, so there's no one home."
Hikaru's polite decline turned into a raised eyebrow and mischievous grin at her added comment. "The media has spires everywhere, Akari," he said, somehow managing to keep a straight face. "What will my mother think if she finds out I was with such a feisty woman like you, so late at night, and unsupervised?"
She rolled her eyes. "Oh, please..."
He suddenly opened her front gate, and quickly ushered her inside, voice mock-urgent as he said in a stage whisper, "Don't look now, but there's a reporter behind that bush!"
Akari planted her feet against the ground, but only managed to stop him when they had reached the front steps. "Hikaru!" she griped, exasperated, but amused.
He grinned, and she sighed, leaning against him, hand gently clasping his. It was in no way suggestive, but rather a simple gesture of an old, close friendship. Hikaru understood. "You're impossible," she muttered against his shoulder.
Since when had Hikaru been this humorously sarcastic, anyway? Akari felt a twinge of...something. Hikaru had changed; he was no longer the same boy from her memories of childhood.
The boy-no-longer in question patted her hair gently, though his hands were a bit hesitant, awkward, unused to being in contact with a female, or anyone, really.
"You sure you won't come in?" she said quietly.
He shook his head. "I have to go home. My mom's probably worried sick by now. You know how she is."
As if on cue, they heard the faint ringing of the phone from inside Akari's house.
"Probably my mom calling to ask if you've seen me or something," Hikaru said, in a wryly knowing voice.
"I guess I should go tell her you're not dead then," she said, smiling slightly, accepting that he wouldn't be hanging around for longer.
"Nah, leave it. I'll be home in a minute anyway."
There was a slight pause after Akari gave a small nod to his comment. Then, before he could step away and leave, Akari hugged him quickly. "Good-night, Hikaru."
He closed his eyes for a moment, just glad to have someone close to him, a best friend who was faithful and always remained with him, for him. He could find comfort in the fact that Akari would always be here. She would never change, she would never leave him.
Of course, he realized he couldn't monopolize Akari forever; and he didn't want to. Part of friendship was knowing when to yield.
Another part, though, was trust and openness. Hikaru debated with himself whether he should tell Akari what had happened, that...that Tsutsui was dead. She had met him before a few times, and Hikaru suspected she had been quite charmed by the sweet, soft-spoken man. She deserved to know the truth.
But she would find out in the news soon anyway. And Hikaru didn't think he was up to the task; the burn was still too near, pain still too raw. If he brought up the subject, it would only cause more questions, more sorrow, more pain. He could hardly think of a better way to spoil the moment; right now, Akari looked content, being close to him, but with such security and trust that it made Hikaru's heart ache faintly. He needed this comfort, this security, as a buffer against the still too-real pain of seeing a friend die before his very eyes.
He kept his eyes closed a moment longer, letting out a silent breath, letting it soothe the aching in his chest.
"Good-night, Akari."
---
Name: Shindou HikaruD.O.B.: September 20, 1986Age: 18By the time Hikaru had said a last good-bye to Akari and finally turned his feet toward home, it was even later into the before-morning hours.
He knew without a doubt that his mother would be worried sick by now. Ever since he had become a full member of the police, Hikaru had tried and tried to convince her to just relax, because there would be times when he had to work late, leave at odd hours, or do other unexpected by necessary things. It was his job now. But she never listened; in her heart, she would never be comfortable with his work.
Hikaru was resigned to the fact by now. He knew he would go home tonight to find his mother sitting up in the living room, waiting for him, worrying, causing even more of her hair to gray. He honestly was concerned for her health, and felt guilty for being the cause of her stress. But a job was a job, and this was a job he cared about, working for an ideal that he wanted to make reality.
Unlocking the front door, Hikaru let himself into the house, quietly. The first thing he saw was his mother getting from the couch in the living room, hurrying over as he toed off his shoes.
"Hi, mom."
"Thank goodness," he heard her sigh softly, as he shrugged off his jacket. She glanced him over quickly, and relief washed over her features as she saw nothing apparently wrong with him. No injuries, no missing limbs. Her son was safe and sound. She took his jacket from him, despite a soft complaint. Mitsuko couldn't seem to stop herself from fussing over her only son, even though he was, all things considered, already an adult.
Or almost. Close enough, anyway, to live on his own, but not daring to because that would only cause more worry for his mother, who had already had enough of that.
"Mom, you really don't have to wait up for me. I told you--"
"I saw the news." She shook her had, smoothing his jacket nervously, looking much too old, worn and sleep-deprived to e up this late. Hikaru felt a twinge of guilt. "I was so worried -- oh, Hikaru." Her eyes were searching as they flickered over his face. "You are all right, aren't you? What happened?"
Under the gaze of her care-worn eyes (or perhaps it was the presence of the slightly overbearing, motherly care), Hikaru suddenly felt too tired to talk. He didn't want to talk -- not about tonight (or was it last night, by now?), or Tsutsui, or his decision...
"I'm fine, mom," he said reassuringly. "You don't have to worry."
"I' tried calling the station, but they wouldn't put me through. I--"
"Mom, really, I'm okay."
It came out a bit sharper than he'd intended, but Hikaru was too numb from fatigue to take it back at this point. Mitsuko put her hand to her lips for a moment, as if stopping herself from saying something. It had become a more and more common gesture as Hikaru's teenage years had progressed, and all the words she held back must have been enough to fill a small desert.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly, after moment. "I'm just glad you're safe. I'm so glad..."
"I'm okay, mom," Hikaru repeated, more gently this before. "You should go to bed. You look awful."
She nodded, absently. "Yes... You are all right, aren't you?" She couldn't help it.
Hikaru fought the urge and didn't sigh, in frustration or otherwise. "I'm all right."
She nodded, eyes closing for a moment, reassuring herself everything was fine. "All right. All right... Thank heaven, Hikaru. Just... You're safe."
And Hikaru found himself the recipient of yet another hug. Her arms were thin but enveloping, the same warm security he remembered for as long as his memory went. Only, before, her arms had felt less frail, her hold not so tight. Her embrace was protective, yet at the same time needing to be protected. The giver of care and comfort now needed reassurance from him, and Hikaru found himself trembling inside at the realization.
The knowledge hit him like a blow to the gut; he couldn't take care of his mother. He could barely take care of himself, and now...
His mother released him after a long moment, and quickly ushered him upstairs, fussing and telling him to go to bed, quickly. Hikaru let himself be steered, not wanting to turn and face all the realities that were glaring at him from beyond this thin comfort-zone that was quickly melting away.
...I know; I fail at writing about politics and intrigue and police work and assassination cases and Special Ops and all that what-not.
::cries::
If you've read this far, you have my endless thanks. Criticism and feedback are very much welcome.