A few minutes before…

This is the end of me, right? Suguru thought as he was upside-down and bleeding to death. No, I have to do the right thing for her... and those girls, too.

Suguru Kashiwagi was a heir to their sizable family fortune, mostly invested in the manufacture of heavy machinery and precision equipment, but within himself he was still a human being, hence not invulnerable to mortality.

One of the invaders was lucky to find his bullets making its way through the panel of the driver's-side door, hitting Suguru's legs and severing an artery, causing him to lose control of the Mercedes, crashing the pricey sports coupe into the gazebo. Now the car was a total wreck: the radiator and the engine block were cracked and leaking, three of the wheels were still on, and the windshield was almost shattered, held together only by the thin layer of safety film.

In his last moments of consciousness, he remembered being misunderstood, partly for the unfortunate fact that he was bisexual by nature, and partly because he thought he would be the right man for Sachiko, and she would accept her proposal.

How wrong he really was; he underestimated her resolve, along with her scathing disdain against him and eventually to all other men, on the account of unrestricted infidelity running within the family.

Ever since that young woman slapped him right across the cheek almost three years ago, he figured that it would be best for Sachiko to find the answers for herself, to let her understand the world on her own, and that meant keeping a respectable distance between them.

In the three years since he first saw Yumi, Suguru realized that this young girl, seemingly clumsy and wide-eyed to the world, was the best thing ever to happen to Sachiko; through Yumi she grew up as a person, learning along the way, trying to comprehend what it took to become a mature and a responsible individual.

Suguru then reinvented himself as an advisor for the three women of his life, especially to Yumi and Touko; he gave the former pointers on how to deal with the difficult realities of the social stratum that Sachiko and Touko inhabited, and how to get along diplomatically; to the latter he advised his younger cousin on the matters of personal relationships with others, and why she should not ignore Yumi's concerns.

Ah, he did not forget Yuuki either; he was a superb companion, funny as hell to see that he was Yumi in a boy's uniform, but Suguru made it a point that their friendship need not to be too romantic or sexual in nature, but just like Sachiko and Yumi intended to have theirs as a bond between sisters, yes, he treated Yuuki as a younger brother.

Suguru sighed; the memories made him feel a bit better.

As the masked invader came up (he could only see the man's boots and jeans) and asked him questions, the dying young man gasped, the searing pain from the wound somewhere around his hips flared, before he spoke his last words.

Yes, he had to do the right thing for those girls. He was much-maligned and misunderstood, thought to be an aloof, arrogant and pompous man, but in the end, perhaps this final act of sacrifice, he hoped, would provide him redemption.

Suguru knew that in this dying state he will not live to see Yumi (and later, Touko) graduate, that he had lived a good life, never had much trouble, he did some good things to counteract the bad deeds he made in the past, that somewhere, somehow Buddha might favor him for this one last act of selflessness.

Sa-chan, he thought. This isn't my story. It's yours. You're a strong woman, and I hope you can keep it that way even if… Yes, I know, I'm dying. You have much more to live for than I do, and you're the one worthy to write down your own destiny.

I'll see you all someday… and thanks for the memories.

He then smiled defiantly at the invaders, flipped the finger at them, closed his eyes and that was all he had to do, before his heart stopped pumping.

MARIA-SAMA GA MITERU: NINETEEN
Chapter 5: GOING OFF THE GRID
Written by soulassassin547 9/9/2011 4:16 a9/p9

Now.

The partially-wrecked Cadillac Escalade roared on the elevated expressway, and with Vincent behind the wheel, dodging traffic at high speed, he glanced at the onboard digitized map console installed into the dashboard, pinpointing their location by GPS, informing them of traffic and road conditions, and to determine which route they'll have to use.

The digital speedometer on the dashboard also told him he were speeding at around 90 miles per hour, but hoping that the highway patrol, driving on all the expressways in black-and-white Subaru Impreza or Nissan Skyline GT-R interceptors, wouldn't catch them with a radar gun or a speed trap.

As the black Escalade was directly imported from the United States, modified beforehand by placing the driver's wheel and pedals to the right, it was also equipped with a detector suite bolted to the ceiling, capable of sensing radar, infrared and laser speed traps and guns, and then warning the driver to slow down.

To his left side, Sachiko couldn't say anything except for blinking and then pulling some tissues from a box to dry her eyes. Yes, she was grieving, and Vincent assumed that she wished she could say a few more things to Suguru Kashiwagi. Without taking his view off the road, he could hear the muffled sobs of the girls at the backseat, Yumi and Touko in anguish.

Bitterly the girls have just lost one of their closest confidants in life.

As for Sean Liston, sitting in the rear cargo bay, the Englishman was silent, looking out through the rear window at the traffic behind the SUV.

Vincent glanced at his rear view mirror; nothing behind them, no sign of that Mercedes that Suguru had brought into the compound an hour earlier. He was also waiting vainly for that young man's phone call, to say that he was alive and following them.

But Vincent didn't have to figure out that Kashiwagi decided to sacrifice himself to make their escape easier, to draw away the attention of their invaders.

He shook his head. That man had a lot to live for, but then I think he wanted to set things right, even for the last time… and I think he loved Sachiko, without having to say much, that he decided to give himself away to fate.

On the other hand, Sachiko was feeling clammy, her breathing becoming labored, a combination of nausea induced by Vincent's high-speed evasive driving and severe adrenaline shock, so she said, "Stop."

"What?" Vincent said. Now even in the dim light he saw her pale face, almost white as snow.

"I SAID STOP! I'm going to vomit!" Sachiko cried out.

The ex-commando immediately swerved to the left and onto the emergency shoulder lane. He then slammed on the brakes, with tires screeching, causing all of them in the SUV to pitch forward in their seats, restrained only by their belts. He then unlocked the doors and calmly said, "Okay, get out."

Sachiko quickly unfastened her seat belt, pushed the door outward and jumped off with both feet onto the pavement, ran to the wall separating the road and the world outside, and then with her hands to the wall, the young woman bent down and retched, her mouth wide-open as she unleashed from her troubled stomach the remains of her dinner.

Without missing a beat Yumi and Touko got off their seats, went to her side and tried to console her, rubbing the back with their hands as she vomited.

As he got out of the SUV to see for himself, Vincent grimaced, hearing one of the most discomfiting sounds coming from the woman he was sworn to protect. He could also smell the offensively sour odor wafting from the puddle that she also made.

"Damn, pavement pizza," Liston muttered, scowling as he emerged from out of the rear tailgate. "We forgot her motion sickness pills."

"I didn't know that," Vincent said.

Sachiko coughed to clear her throat, having done retching yet the sour taste remained on her tongue and mouth, and then she began to breathe deeply. Inwardly she swore she could also see stars dancing around her eyes; she almost suffocated due to her constrained breathing.

"You okay now?" Vincent asked as he approached her.

"Y… Yes," Sachiko answered between breaths, and Yumi, going back into the SUV, helpfully gave her a box of tissues from the backseat for which to wipe her mouth and face, and even under the chin. "Thank you, but I feel faint. Give me a moment, please."

Vincent nodded. "Okay."

"Mister Hayashida?" Yumi said as she and Touko propped Sachiko to stand up, and then let her lay down on the backseat.

Vincent blinked. "Yeah?"

"Where are we going?" she questioned.

"I think we'll have to do something about this Caddy, like ditching it, and then try to jack another."

Sachiko blinked, not moving an inch. "You mean to steal a car?"

"Yeah," Vincent said. "Look, it's not okay driving around town with this thing's nose smashed up; it could draw some attention, either from those bastards trying to kill us, or the cops, and all the noise back there must've surely woke up your neighbors."

"But… Wait, I thought you wanted me to cash out my bank account."

"Okay," Vincent said as he peered into the Escalade and consulted the digital map. "There's the exit ramp up a couple of kilometers ahead, and just off the ramp and around the street corner there's a convenience store with an ATM."

Sachiko nodded, as she placed a hand on her forehead and rubbed the temples.

"While you girls take a break and wait for us there," Vincent said, "we'll have to ditch this Caddy, hide it away somewhere, and jack another one. I was trained to do just that as part of our skills."

In fact, Vincent's training included a test of survival in which trainees have to go from point A to point B over long distances in unfamiliar territory, with only their clothes on and nothing in their pockets, which meant they have to steal, lie and cheat their way through without drawing the attention of the police or causing an incident with the locals. That way, in a covert operation they could survive behind enemy lines in a hostile nation, thousands of miles away from home or a friendly country.

"What if you get caught?"

"I assure you, I'm trained to deal with that, so don't worry much, okay?"

"Okay, Mister Hayashida," Sachiko answered. "What are we going to do with my money?"

"We'll buy some things to survive in the meantime: first you girls need a change of clothes, then a few tools that I'll have to use, and finally, to spend only on what we really need."

"Like food and gasoline?"

"That's right. And, oh, by the way, my friends call me Vince, and I think that from this point on, we should go by our first names to make things easier, even if it means breaking protocol. Remember, we're all in this together, okay?"

Sachiko nodded. "I think you're right, Vince," she said, now using her bodyguard's first name.

"Thank you, Sachiko… And Sean," Vincent called out.

"Yeah?" the Englishman replied.

"You still coming with us, or you make a run for your embassy?" He was referring to the possibility of safe asylum for Liston inside the British Embassy, smack in the center of Tokyo.

Sean thought for a moment, and then said, "I'd rather keep my job, I have more skills than serving tea, which means I have to stick along even in this bloody mess, and anywhere milady goes. Besides, I'm missing a lot of adventure, and Afghanistan was the last time I had such an experience."

Vince grinned. "You're welcome, man," he said as he watched Sean climb back into the cargo bay, before he turned his attention to the girls. "Yumi, you'd better stay with your onee-sama in the back to keep an eye on her."

"Okay," Yumi said, nodding as she slid in and propped Sachiko's head on her lap before closing the door.

"Touko, you can take the front seat."

"Yes," Touko answered as she climbed in, sat down right besides Vince before closing the door.

"All right," Vince said as he grabbed the door handle and pulled the door in. "Let's hightail out of here before any of them could spot us on this stretch. We're getting off the grid."

At home, Prime Minister Murasaki was having a fitful sleep in bed with his wife, Kyoko, when he thought he felt his cellular phone was vibrating. His eyes cracked open, and squirmed to get himself sitting on bed, picked up the phone and in irritation he said, "This is Murasaki speaking, and can't you see that I'm trying to get some decent sleep?"

"Sorry sir," the man at the other end of the line said. "I'm Commissioner Ogata, National Police."

"Oh, sorry… It's you," Murasaki apologized. "What made you call me? What's going on?"

"There's an incident at the Ogasawara compound, and I'm here right now."

He struggled to sit on the side of the bed, causing Kyoko to groan almost silently. "And?" he badgered.

"Your Excellency, it's a home invasion," Ogata said. "Several of their security men were shot dead, and we also found the body of Suguru Kashiwagi, who's closely related to Miss Ogasawara."

Murasaki's eyes flew wide open. "What?"

"He died from bullet wounds after he had apparently tried to fight off the attackers with his car, and then was shot and his car tumbled around till he crashed into a gazebo."

"Damn it," he muttered. "Now, what happened to the girl?"

"She's gone, along with her closest friends, a Yumi Fukuzawa and a Touko Matsudaira, her butler Sean Liston, and the man running the security detail for the family. We're trying to guess where they have gone, for they took one of the cars in the garage, a Cadillac Escalade SUV."

"Ah. That would be Hayashida."

"I know him, sir," Ogata said. "I met him at a security conference last year."

"I see… So what else have you and your men found there?"

"Their attackers jumped over the fence, then blasted their way through the windows using framed charges, so we have some leftover pieces of plastic explosive," Ogata spoke. "There's also lots of bullet casings, pieces of flash-bang grenades, mostly in every room, as if the attackers were clearing them one by one with submachine guns. Of course there are some bloodstains not belonging to the guards; the attackers must've taken their dead and wounded away as they left."

Murasaki groaned.

"Asides from cordoning off the whole mansion and the premises, we're now trying to find the Escalade, and I've already put out a follow-up operation to hunt down whoever assaulted this house, and this isn't a Yakuza hit-and-run; they're generally quiet as far as their criminal activities are concerned, they don't do Mafia-like hits like these unless their boss must be insane. So it has to be the work of someone else, either those attention-seeking terrorists or some bunch of foreign gangsters, or perhaps even some mercenaries."

"Sounds farfetched," Murasaki said, "but not impossible as long as there's a lot of money involved."

"That's right, sir, but personally, I've never seen anything like this serious in my whole career, especially as this family held no grudge against anyone whatsoever... except for the little flap back during World War Two."

"Come again?"

"It's a rumor, not substantiated completely, that during the war Hiromu Ogasawara was said to be indirectly responsible for funding the operations of Unit 731. Thereafter it was claimed that the family couldn't invest in China now because of their alleged involvement."

This time Murasaki frowned. He knew that Unit 731 was based in China after the Japanese invaded the country in an attempt to annex it for the so-called Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere; the business of the infamous outfit was to develop and test germ warfare technology, using prisoners and dissidents as guinea pigs. Tales of carnage and utter brutality were borne from their activities, and while most of the men involved were either imprisoned, sentenced to death, or committed suicide, the ringleader of 731 was taken to the United States, where his bio-weapons knowledge was then put to covert use by the US military in the development of biological and chemical weaponry, and thereafter lived a quiet, secluded life until he died of natural causes. To this day, the infamy of Unit 731 was one of those sore points in Japan's relationship with some of her neighbors: there are still some lingering recriminations that could not be banished, aging victims on all sides demanding justice and compensation.

Murasaki's mind was now whirling, trying to figure out if this piece of obscure history was related to the Flight 3902 Bombing, as it was now known in the media, and to tonight's incident.

"Oh, God," Murasaki groaned. "Guess I'll have to dress up."

"Pardon me, sir?" Ogata said.

"I'm going to call for a meeting of everyone involved in the investigation, and this is now a matter of national security. That includes the Jietai top brass and their intelligence officers, the defense minister, the Americans from the NTSB and the FBI, and then you, and then we'll start making calls to some intelligence agencies and Interpol; I want the station chief of the American CIA to come and tell us, and I want to know if those two incidents, the bombing and the home invasion, are linked to that little tidbit of history, as it sounds plausible."

"What time?"

Murasaki checked his bedside clock: it was now 10:45 in the evening. "I'll set it an hour from now. Eleven forty-five... and oh, I also need a full briefing on each and every one of them involved; I want to know exactly who are those girls are, and exactly who is Mister Hayashida."

"Okay, sir. I'll ask HQ to do the research and prepare a summary immediately, and of course we'll have to inform the families of those girls firsthand; they might help us in looking for them."

"Thank you, and will see you there," he said, and only then Murasaki placed the phone back onto the bedside table and whispered to his wife.

"Honey," he said. "I have to go now."

"What?" Kyoko drowsily murmured; her one eye almost wide open. "At a time like this?"

Murasaki stood up and walked towards the bathroom, intending to take a quick shower. "It's an emergency; has to do with the plane bombing."

The Escalade now got off the expressway by way of the exit ramp, and Vince turned the vehicle to the left, drove a hundred meters until they stopped in front of the local AM/PM convenience store. Opposite the store was a branch of the Japan Trust and Savings, with its ATM booths still open.

While the three girls quickly got off the SUV and dashed to the bank, the two men took a momentary break by lighting up cigarettes before talking. So far, with the exception of a few passing cars, the attendants inside the store, and a drunk salaryman staggering while trying to get home, there was nothing out of the ordinary within the hundred-meter radius.

Sean sighed. "Too bad, he could've lived but he chose what he thought was right."

"Who, Mister Kashiwagi?" Vince asked.

"Yeah. All I know is that like milady, he's also the sole heir of his family's company. I guess he wanted to be the saving prince who lets his damsel to live on."

Vince shook his head. "He had so much to live for."

"Right. I would've raised a toast for him being damn hard and having the balls to be left behind. Such a magnificent chap he was, right in the end."

"Seems that you have much experience with guns," Vince said to Sean, changing the subject. "Tell me, were you in the military once? You didn't say much."

Sean nodded. "Yeah, I should have told you firsthand, except I don't want to raise some attention to myself," he said while tweaking his moustache. "Before I came here, a few years ago I was once used to be in the Paras, the Paratroop Regiment, that is. We were deployed to Afghanistan, took me a couple of tours, with lots of patrols and raids, saw some of my buddies die, or at least wounded and had to be medevacked back home. But I survived and still proud of it, so you could say that on behalf of milady I still have no problem blowing away a bugger standing in my way or cutting his sorry throat."

"I see," Vince said, before he chuckled. "Not bad for a guy who can make some good fish and chips."

"So where we should be heading?"

"As soon as Sachiko cleans out her account, and we get ourselves a new ride, we're going to Akihabara."

"I heard there are stores open all night long, especially the thrift shops."

"Right, and we're also buying some survival stuff on the cheap, and then we move on to my place."

"I hope they don't know where your pad is."

"Yeah," Vince said. "They don't; it's deep in the neighborhood, and for now it's the safest bet we have."

At the bank, and with two of her soeurs watching, Sachiko stood before the console of the automated teller machine, and after she inserted the credit card into the reader, punched in a few keys to withdraw all of the money in her account, the ATM whirled to life and brought out the equivalent of US$30,000 in ten-thousand-yen bills (yes, the ones with Yukichi Fukuzawa's face, but distantly related to Yumi), almost emptying the whole machine. She then picked up the cash and the receipt that came with it, but she tore up the receipt and tossed the pieces into a nearby waste bin.

Sachiko then turned around and showed the money. "There," she said, holding the bundle in one hand, and her other hand slid the card back into her purse. "That's more than enough to keep us alive."

Yumi looked unsure. "How long do we have to keep up with this?"

The young woman shrugged. "I just don't know."

"We'll have to trust them," Touko said, referring to Vince and Sean, but then her head lowered. "I wished Onii-sama didn't have to die for this."

Sachiko sighed. "Vince's right," she said. "He could've come with us, but he made up his mind. It was his choice to stay behind and try to stall them… I can't blame him for doing the right thing, so I guess all's left is to remember, to forgive him and... Yes, I hope he forgives me for thinking he was wrong on many things."

Inwardly she decided it best that she would grieve and mourn only after they all survive this harrowing experience; she understood that there should be no time to waste and to hesitate, considering the grave circumstances they were in right now.

Furthermore they'll have to think, to use their wits and maybe their innate talents to keep going.

The young woman then took both girls and hugged them. "I hope he's all right someplace," Sachiko said. "He decided to do something good in the end… The important thing is, right now, we have to stick together, and as these men know what they're doing, let's hope that we can come out of this alive."

"I understand," Yumi said.

"Yes," Touko added.

"Okay," Sachiko said as she let go of her soeurs. "We need to buy something at the store, like a drink, so, what do you two want to have?"

She then sensed that the air right now was shivering cold, and it dawned upon her that they were still wearing their pajamas, and thus forgot to bring their jackets along.

"Let's have some latte," Yumi said, arms wrapped around her body. "It's freezing out here."

Sachiko nodded. "Okay, I'll buy some pills for motion sickness, and besides there should be a washbasin inside, too; I need to wash my face... I'm sorry for our inconvenience but I stink."

The two men, standing by the half-wrecked Escalade, saw the girls come towards them.

"That was quick," Vince said.

"I have to wash my face first," Sachiko replied as she unhesitatingly entered the store, with Yumi and Touko following, the automated door sliding open for them.

Vince and Sean then watched the trio buy some latte, before Sachiko went to the washroom at the back of the store. It didn't take long before they came out.

"Will you girls be okay waiting for us?" Vince asked.

"Yes," Sachiko said. "We'll sit by the windows." She pointed at a table affixed to the window, so that patrons could watch the scenery outside while eating a quick snack.

"Okay, but don't use your phones yet," he cautioned. "Turn them off to stay low."

"Why?" Touko asked. "I want to call my mama and papa."

Vince shook his head. "I'll be the one to call them, before I'll have to take the batteries out so that nobody's going to track us down, assuming if they have some sort of a tracking device to locate your phone."

Touko and Yumi blinked. "Really?" the former asked incredulously.

"It's true, and don't turn them on until I say so, okay?"

Touko nodded but sighed in disappointment. "Okay."

Satisfied, both men hopped into the Escalade and Vince fired it up. "Don't worry, we'll be back in a jiffy," he said before pulling the doors in and then they sped off.

Only then the girls went back inside, sat down on the stools and waited.

Now Vince and Sean were cruising around the neighborhood, to find a suitable car they could break into and drive off.

"We're not going to touch those newer models; they have a burglar alarm built into them," Vince said, his neck craning around. "Hell, some of them are electronically locked."

"So we'll have to nick any old car, even a truck?" Sean asked.

Vince nodded. "Yeah, as long it has four wheels, with a key ignition, a good engine and doesn't fall apart."

After a minute, they found a 1990s-model Toyota Hi-Ace van in a darkened lot. They got off the Escalade, peered in through the windows to look that the van looked all right, inside and out, even with a few dents, and fortunately there was no burglar alarm installed. There was additional amount of privacy in the form of beige curtains on the side windows.

They looked around for a while, as if expecting witnesses, and then seeing that the coast was clear, Vince wrapped his elbow with the trench coat, and he drove his protected elbow through the glass window on the driver's side, smashing it to pieces. Vince reached for the lock handle and pulled it, the door now hanging free.

"Piece of cake," Vince said as he pried apart the plastic shell that protected the steering column. "Now I have to wire up the ignition."

"You know these things?" Sean asked.

Vince now held several wires in his hand, pulled out from the column. "Yep," he said, bringing out from his belt a Victorinox Swiss knife and used its blade to peel away the wires. Recalling his car-jacking lessons from memory, Vince then made the exposed wires bring into contact with each other until the engine caught on and idled.

Sean grinned, clapping Vince on the back. "All right! You got that bugger running!" he exclaimed before laughing.

Vince chuckled. "Thanks," he said.

In triumph, the men then transferred whatever valuables they had inside, including the guns, from the SUV to the van, then boarded the van before driving out of the lot, to come back for the girls waiting for them.

After picking up the girls, they were now heading southeast, using one of the many major roads leading to Akihabara, undisputedly the place where one could almost buy anything - appliances, computers, electronics, toys and even clothes.

While on their way, Vince took out his mobile phone and turned it on, then speed-dialed Murasaki's unlisted mobile number.

"Yes," the man at the other end of the line answered. "This is Murasaki speaking. Who is this?"

"It's me, Vincent Hayashida, your Excellency."

He could hear what seemed to be the Prime Minister coughing in surprise, and then, "Where are you now?"

"I can't say sir," Vince said. "We're in real danger, and I have to find someplace for us to hide."

"But we would like to help you; we'll send someone to pick everyone up."

Vince shook his head. "No, I'm sorry, sir, I can't. Not with some really bad nasties coming after us, and I swear that these are no ordinary hoods; we're up against a bunch of pros, whoever the hell they are."

"Are the girls with you? I mean, you have Miss Ogasawara?"

"That's right, sir."

"Her lady friends, too?"

"Yes, and her butler is along with us."

"May I speak to any of them?"

Vince paused for a moment to think, and then said, "Again, I'm sorry, sir, but we're in a hurry. I don't want to allow anyone to triangulate our position with this call, if those damned goons have good tracking equipment and be able to follow us, so it means that we must go off the grid and use pay phones from now on."

There was a momentary pause, as if the Prime Minister was thinking hard.

"Okay, since you're the expert, it's your call," Murasaki said thereafter. "Otherwise, if any of you get stuck in a tight spot, call us, and we're ready to bring you out of there. Good luck, Mister Hayashida."

"Thank you, sir. We'll try."

The phone now went dead in his hands. Sachiko leaned forward and asked, "Who was that?"

"The Prime Minister himself."

Sachiko blinked. "What? He could help us like providing witness protection!"

"I can't."

She looked angry this time, finding it inexplicable that Vince refused Murasaki's help. "Why?" she asked aloud. "He's our only chance, can't you see?"

"Call me anything, Sachiko Ogasawara, even if you're my boss and then throw a tantrum right now," he answered back, emphasizing every word with his stabbing forefinger, "but I'm the only one who's the difference between your survival and those wanting you dead, so you'll have to trust me on this, and because we have real professional hitters going after our tails, we can't act naïve and assume about everything."

That was it: Vince was dead serious about his job to keep her and the two other soeurs alive, and in his logic, to assume was to act stupid.

"I see," the young woman said dejectedly. "You're right again."

They said not another word until Akihabara.

By the time they arrived, passing under the elevated railway line running north and south, the storefronts were still open, their lights blazing. Left and right there were billboards for maid cafes, video games, anime-related merchandise, publications, and cheap gadgets.

Welcome to Akihabara.

Vince then turned the van left into a side street, where he found parking space for a fee. Before the men got off, Vince asked Sachiko and her soeurs, "What are your clothing and shoe sizes?"

The three girls told them their sizes from memory, and Sean supplied the exact information on behalf of Sachiko, for he was sometimes asked to buy clothes for her in downtown Shibuya.

"Jeans, sweaters, jackets and sneakers would be okay," Vince said. "Just in plain colors, and given your tastes, I'm not going to buy anything that's pink or has some cartoon characters printed or stitched on; we have to blend in, not to stand out."

"Okay," Sachiko said. "We'll be fine right here."

"Just stay alert, all right? Should you encounter trouble, turn on your phone and call us; we'll be coming to your rescue in no time." He then gave her his number, before Sachiko handed to him all of what remained of her bank account.

Afterwards the two men walked away, and the first destination was an emporium specializing in outdoor goods, personal security and survival gear. There Vince bought several pocket-sized cans of Mace, a pair of telescopic batons, binoculars, and miniaturized two-way radios with encryption and an earpiece.

In another store selling consumer electronics, they bought a pair of new low-priced mobile phones, and the storekeeper helpfully offered a variety of plans to go with them. Vince chose the most basic plan, which meant the phones would be used only for limited calls and message sending.

Next stop was a thrift store selling cheap factory overruns, and immediately they acquired several sets of clothing and footwear, five gym bags, and after a bit of hesitation, some underwear.

As they lined for the checkout lane, Sean noticed that one discount bin held a mound of blue-striped panties, and already a trio of pimply misfits were taking a dozen, stuffing the panties into their shopping baskets.

"Why there's much attention for such undies?" the Englishman asked as he watched.

"Otaku fetish, you know," Vince said. "They're hotter than lace and silk, or so I believe."

Sean shook his head and said, "What a country this is; you and I will never know what would be the next advancement in knickers."

Once done, Vince counted the money as they went back to the van, where they gave the clothes to the girls, who then locked the doors and blocked the windows, before changing their garments, slipping from bedclothes to dress casuals. Out of modesty the men wisely turned their backs and waited for about ten minutes, until the girls knocked on the windows, and the heiress slid open the door.

"We're done," Sachiko said, the young woman now wearing a black jacket over her beige sweater and a pair of blue jeans. "Thank you."

Afterwards their van drove away, took the first ramp onto the expressway as they head southwest. Even with the missing window on the driver's side, which caused a continuous draft to blast the van's interior and almost making them shiver in their seats, they skirted the center of the city, went past the domestic-use Haneda Airport, and then bypassed the port city of Yokohama by taking the scenic Bayside expressway.

Because there was little traffic on the expressway, mostly consisting of trucks and cargo vans, they were able to travel fast for forty-five minutes.

Along the way, each of them were deep into their thoughts, especially the girls, who thought of home, of their classmates and school, and fond memories of Suguru. But the overall feeling was that from now on it would be near impossible to resume their lives, and it was clear that the girls' lives were hanging on a balance, and how well they would survive depended on smarts, instincts, talents and guts.

The world they lived in was no longer safe; they'll have to dodge their pursuers, whoever they are, and what motive they possessed.

In Sachiko's case, she wondered who those invaders were, and why they have to kill almost everyone, and then was it possible that, somewhere in the past there was an enemy they forgot to remember?

Try as she might, Sachiko had little inkling about other secrets concerning her family, especially about the allegations about her great-grandfather during World War Two, which might have something to do with her dire set of circumstances. Perhaps by the time they arrive she would mention about this to Vince, and then they'll have to find the answers for themselves.

But then her heart ached; the people she held dear and close were gone forever, now only a memory, intimate moments that she will have to recall once in a while; in her heart she thought Suguru was asking her to go on and live, to fight for survival, and hopefully emerge triumphant from this harrowing experience.

On the other hand, Touko willed herself not to cry again, but instead took on a stoic approach on which her life would be conducted, and in this case, the social gaffes, the gossip and the trivial issues coming from the social climbers were nothing compared to this.

As for Yumi, it would not matter for her how much difficulty she might have to endure in the coming days, as long as she would fight to stay loyal to her onee-sama and her imouto, but this was a life-or-death situation, and there would be no room for error.

Instead, she'll have to learn to cope with this new change in her life, where all that matters was the will to survive, and above all, she'll have to struggle to be optimistic, even if everything else around her could erupt in flames.

And then they briefly saw the overhead signboard announcing that they have arrived at Yokosuka, the small city greeting them with the lights of the girlie bars, dives, and saloons catering to American sailors; to their left was the naval base, and beyond that was Tokyo Bay.

Even with the dim light, they could see the harbor, filled mostly with gray warships of all sizes, but what was astonishing for them was the seemingly immense height and breadth of the aircraft carrier USS George Washington, currently tied to the dockside, its flight deck filled with fighter planes.

"We're here," Vince announced, pointing his finger at the vessel shortly before he turned right. "Home sweet home," he added.

He then consulted the clock on the dashboard: it was now past twelve midnight, today was Monday, and he marked it as Day One for the rest of their lives.

"By now I'm sure he's waiting for us," Vince said.

"Who's 'he'?" Sachiko questioned.

"Seiji's my only son, so I'll have to get you two be introduced properly."

The young heiress blinked, but Vince noted her reaction and laughed.

"What's so funny?"

"Don't fret, he's not going to bite you," he jokingly reassured. "And if you're wondering why I'm laughing at a tense time like this, once in a while you really need an emotional release, you gotta stop worrying for a moment, so you have to laugh at danger."

Back in Tokyo, six vans and a helicopter overhead converged onto a darkened vacant lot, and the same masked men jumped out of their vehicles and surrounded the Cadillac Escalade, with all of its doors ajar. With the chopper providing blinding illumination from a search light affixed to its nose, cautiously the invaders approached the lone SUV with their guns ready, and then turned on their tactical lights to light up the vehicle's interior.

There was nobody inside.

Outraged at being outwitted yet again, the team leader took off his ski mask, revealing him to be white in complexion, his hair made into a crew cut, and his face twisted into a scowl. Once again he brought out his mobile phone and dialed.

"They're gone," he said in American English, before he heard the man on the other end of the line mutter a curse.

"Mister Barr, I want to know who's protecting her," the man replied, his English colored with an Oriental accent, but sounded as if he was controlling his fury. "He's making your work very difficult."

"Don't worry, sir, we'll see to that," Matthew Barr said. "Once we get to know the cause of our problems, mark my words, we'll destroy that son of a bitch."

Author's Notes:

I'm surprised that I'm much comfortable writing this piece, compared to the rather unwieldy crossover fic I'm still thinking about working on but procrastinating.

No, this is becoming a thrill to write, familiar characters in unfamiliar ground and perils!

Right now I have the Bourne Trilogy soundtrack on (and sometimes alt-tabbing to my Kindle copy of The Bourne Identity), as I visualize what comes next. Even I am wondering what dangers lie ahead for our ladies, and hence may I remind us all of Kurt Vonnegut once said:

No matter how sweet and innocent your leading characters, make awful things happen to them in order that the reader may see what they are made of.

And then the controversial assertion by my favorite blogger about how current-day fictional heroines should really be written (her comments in italics, emphasis marked in bold, my comments in normal type):

I defined "strong woman" recently as a woman in control of her circumstances. This differs significantly from woman in sexy leather body suit shooting big-ass gun. A woman shooting big-ass gun has already lost control (what?) and is fighting to regain what was hers. Of course she never can(what? It should be "near impossible")...she and her family have had their lives destroyed and you don't ever come back unscathed from that.

What I want so desperately to see is stories of women who have made it past the scarring, have learned to not lose control of the situation, even when things are falling apart around her. A leader. A calm in the storm. Not the storm itself. Perhaps writing that story is too complicated, too "boring," too alien for most male writers or male audiences.

It has been done - Utena took control over very weird circumstances indeed, Yumi did it with compassion and charm (that's right, she's happy being with her onee-sama no matter how difficult her superior's awkward social circumstances – see Season 3 OVA episode 1). It will be done again. In between, I'm afraid we're just going to have to wade through a lot of panty shots and big-ass guns.

If that's going to be her criteria, then she's looking for a very smart PC heroine who's also highly organized in thinking and actions, and is never a loose cannon, someone like Darby Shaw from John Grisham's The Pelican Brief, a heroine who doesn't even have to pull the trigger to win.

All right, enough with the soapboxing. For now, we've completed the girls' transition from normal life to survival mode, and in this brave new chapter of their lives, to know, understand and outsmarting the enemy is far more potent than wading in with all guns blazing.

Finally I've decided on the unofficial OP/ED songs: (OP) Chumbawumba – Mary Mary / (ED) Moby – Extreme Ways

Again, thank you for reading.