(A/N: I decided I didn't like the last bit of the last chapter after all, so I moved it to the beginning of this chapter and changed it a lot; sorry for the deja-vu, everyone!)
I walked down the dusty street, moving quickly toward the nearest cluster of lights and noise; the sun was setting, and Tokyo was not somewhere you wanted to be alone and outside after dark, at least not these days.
Not that I was too worried for my own safety, but drawing attention to myself by disabling a gang of prosthetic body poachers would have been something of an inconvenience, especially considering my mission.
I was headed for Ogikubo; it had been a few years since my last visit, but I was fairly sure that the friends I'd made there would remember me. Most people did.
I'd just stopped in front of a grungy-looking bar to try and get my bearings when a blip appeared on the map inside my cyberbrain. A blip that I'd been half-terrified I'd never see again.
Yoko.
Yoko!
The connection disappeared before I received any response, but not without leaving me a very plain set of coordinates to follow.
She was here. Less than an hour away from me.
I broke into a run.
Yoko!
Her heart leapt at the familiar voice.
Major…?
Static filled her cyberbrain again as she fumbled for the connection, and she jerked away from it in shock; had the Major really managed to break through, or had Yoko just imagined it?
Suddenly, the office door slammed open.
Chief! I've got the prime minister's location. I'm sending you the coordinates - I can be there in about thirty-five minutes.
My boots pounded against the frozen earth. There was a building in my way; I sprang into the air, launching myself onto its roof.
We saw it as well. I've just given orders for the Kanto riot police to mobilize; they'll be at the scene no more than ten minutes after you arrive.
I climbed up onto the ruins of an AC unit, and from there propelled myself onto the top of an apartment block. Once my footing was secure, I opened another cybercomm channel.
Ishikawa, give me all of the satellite data you can pull from the coordinates where the prime minister was last recorded.
Already on it. And about that…
What is it?
I hauled my body over a railing and dropped to the ground, skirting the treacherous ruins of a bombed out shopping strip.
Well, when the prime minister's GPS signal showed up for that split second…we picked something up in the dragnet as well.
And?
You're probably going to want to see this for yourself.
A file appeared in my cyberbrain. I hopped up onto the relative safety of an apartment balcony, and then closed my eyes.
It was a personal data file, the same as I saw regularly in the MHLW records. The accompanying picture was of a man who appeared to be in his mid-40's, with deeply tanned skin and jet black hair, graying at the temples. According to the file, his name was Shen Mao, and he had come to Japan late last century, in January of 1987. His place of birth was Baoshan in Yunnan province, China.
Yunnan. The same place all of the refugee men whose DNA we'd recovered had been from.
I scrolled quickly through the rest of the file. The man had allegedly had extensive mob ties when he lived in China, although he'd garnered no criminal record whatsoever as a Japanese citizen; his listed occupation was "florist", which was about the least mob-like thing I could think of. In April of 1987 he'd gotten married to a nurse named Miho Kobayashi, and by March of 1988 they were peacefully settled in a town called Uchiko, not too far from Niihama, with their newborn daughter.
Did you know that I was half Chinese up until three years ago?
The memory of the prime minister's voice drifted through my head.
At the end of the file was the man's death record. The name listed here wasn't the same as the one he'd come to Japan with, and even though there was every possibility that the record had been made up to be a hoax, I didn't doubt it for a second.
His daughter looked far too much like him for it not to be true.
Shou Kayabuki, killed overseas in 1996. Survived by wife Miho and daughter Yoko.
Everything clicked into place.
A mobilized group of Chinese refugees. A personal score to settle.
I took off again, pushing my prosthetic body to its limits as I raced across the barren cityscape.
Ishikawa, do you have the satellite data for me yet?
I'm sending it right now. They've got the place covered by a wide-area jamming signal, but according to past records it used to be an elementary school. I might be able to find the floor plan for you if I dig.
Thanks. That other file, has anybody else seen it?
Uh…just you and me, and the tachikomas that found it…oh, and I sent a copy to the Chief.
Well, that was manageable.
Delete it as soon as the Chief looks at it. I want you to root it out of the memories of the tachikomas as well.
He was hesitant, but we had worked together long enough that he didn't question the order.
The information in that file had been kept hidden for a reason, after all. It wasn't our secret to keep.
"Yaozu?" said Mr. Zhang, his sharp eyes immediately finding those of the man who had entered the room. "What's going on?"
"The message, sir. We're not getting through."
Yoko wondered what he meant. Had they attempted to release her hidden past out onto the Net, and if so, what had stopped it?
"You're sure?" said Mr. Zhang. "Perhaps it's still working its way through the local Net."
"No, sir," said Yaozu, now sounding rather nervous. "I tracked it out onto the main Japanese news Net, but then it was like…something pulled it out of sight. It never even had a chance to spread."
"Hmm."
Mr. Zhang's eyes narrowed dangerously.
"I underestimated your cowardice, Prime Minister," he said. "It's one thing to destroy the evidence of your heritage, but to have a system built into the Net that prevents anyone else from spreading the same information? I don't know whether to be impressed or disgusted."
His expression was certainly one of disgust.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," said Yoko quietly. "If such a system is in place, this is the first I've heard of it."
Mr. Zhang studied her very intently for a few moments; she returned his gaze, determined not to waver.
"I see," he said at last, the softness of his voice sending a sudden chill down Yoko's spine. "Once more, then, Yaozu," he said, turning toward the other man. "We'll take the lady at her word and see if this wasn't just some sort of accident; such things do happen, after all. Go and try to send it again, and if you really can't get through, well…we'll continue from there."
"Yes, sir."
He turned and left the room. Mr. Zhang's eyes followed him through the door, and then snapped back to Yoko.
"I intended to have you sent back to Fukuoka once I released my message; however, it's beginning to look as though I'll need you to deliver it for me."
He paused briefly and adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose before continuing.
"While I don't doubt that you're trustworthy enough to take care of such a simple matter on your own initiative, I think it would be best for us to apply some gentle pressure first, just to make sure you're taking the situation seriously."
Yoko let the words wash over her without really understanding them. All she wanted was for this nightmare to go ahead and end.
"You should consider yourself lucky that I'm going so easy on you – in my line of work, the punishment for a betrayal of this magnitude is usually far more severe. Of course, if my instructions aren't carried out once you return…who's to say what might happen?"
Gradually, it sank in. They were going to hurt her, and if she didn't do what they wanted, they would come after her again and do something even worse.
She considered her options. Nothing was restraining her physically; if it came down to it, she was perfectly capable of running away.
To where, though? Mr. Zhang had at least five men that she'd seen standing guard around the building, all of whom were much larger, stronger, and better armed than she was. Even if she somehow managed to make it past them, she'd still be stranded in the Kanto refugee residential zone, at night, in the dead of winter.
A dull sense of resignation settled across her mind.
She expected the fear, the dread she'd felt earlier to accompany it, but it was oddly absent; instead she seemed to be sinking into a strange, meditative calm.
Mr. Zhang's plan required her survival. He would not kill her; his goal was merely to make things very unpleasant for her until she gave in to what he wanted.
After the day she'd already had, how much worse could it get?
She would survive this. No matter what happened, she would not give her captors the satisfaction of seeing her broken, fearful, and in pain.
There would be a time for that once all of this was over.
The office door opened again, and the man named Yaozu entered once more.
"Well?" said Mr. Zhang expectantly.
The man shook his head.
The static from the jamming signal tore into my cyberbrain the minute I vaulted over the fence, and once I touched down, I had to stop and switch over to autistic mode before the pins-and-needles feeling made my braincase collapse in on itself. As Ishikawa had told me earlier, I was standing in the yard of a long-abandoned school. The space was crowded with refugee tents and shelters, but I wasn't concerned with them; my entire being was focused on the map in my cyberbrain, and the tiny dot that pulsed a warmer red the closer I got to it.
She'd shown up again only a moment ago and then disappeared once more, so quickly that I wasn't able to establish a connection. She hadn't tried to contact me either, nor had she moved at all; I dearly hoped that there was an explanation for this that involved her still being alive.
The Kanto PD hadn't showed up yet, and the jamming signal effectively cut me off from all communication. From here on out I would be on my own.
I raced toward my target, cutting silently through the snow. The high wall of a building loomed in front of me, the one segment of the school that hadn't collapsed yet. As I drew closer, I saw two men standing on either side of the entrance, which was merely a gap in the wall covered by a sheet of heavy plastic.
Although I was fairly sure they weren't professional soldiers, they were certainly used to combat; instead of asking me who I was and where I thought I was going, they both drew handguns from their coat pockets with impressive speed.
I was still faster.
Before either man had a chance to fire, I leapt into the air.
Neither of them were cyborgs; that much was obvious from their reactions.
I landed behind the man on the right, clamping my arms firmly around his neck; he struggled briefly, and then went limp as the supply of oxygen to his brain gave out. The other man had only just gotten around to pointing his gun at me.
Definitely not professionals, either.
I sprang forward again, ducking underneath the two shots he fired, focusing all of my momentum into the point of my shoulder, which I rammed into his stomach. Winded, he staggered backwards; while he was still stunned, I spun him around, hooking one elbow around his throat.
The back of his neck was bare; he wasn't even cyberized. I was going to have to do this the old fashioned way.
"You people have the prime minister?" I growled.
He said nothing; his fingers scrabbled against the camo fabric that covered my forearm, trying desperately to dislodge it. I brought my other arm around to his front, pressing down on his windpipe.
"She's here, isn't she?"
It took him another few moments of fighting to answer me with the smallest of nods.
"And she's still alive?"
Another nod.
"Lucky you."
I pressed my thumb against his jugular, and only ten seconds later, he was on the ground with his companion.
As I got to my feet, I gave my surroundings a quick check; nobody else seemed to have noticed the commotion. Quietly, I darted beneath the sheet of plastic and into the building, drawing my sidearm from my hip holster.
It was dark; the only light came from what appeared to be an electric lantern somewhere off in the distance.
I ran lightly toward it, staying close to the corridor wall, my gun at the ready.
The passageway opened up into a large atrium with a high ceiling. There was a shorter hallway and a door at the far end; beyond that was my target.
Between myself and the door were three men; two held automatic pistols, and the third cradled a heavy SMG in the crook of his arm.
The man closest to me raised his gun, pointing it squarely at my chest.
"You have some business here?"
"Yes," I said, narrowing my eyes. "You have something of mine; I'd like it back."
Yoko sat completely still as Yaozu approached her, eyes fixed blankly on one of the cracks in the plaster on the far wall.
"I'd prefer scared to damaged, if possible," said Mr. Zhang.
"And if it's not possible?" said Yaozu.
He grasped the lapel of Yoko's jacket in one hand, pulling her roughly to her feet.
"Well, just make sure she's still breathing when you're finished."
"Yes, sir."
Suddenly, there was a burst of gunfire from the other side of the door.
"What on earth-?" said Mr. Zhang, rising unsteadily from his seat.
"Jianyu's rifle – I think someone finally showed up for our guest," said Yaozu. He grabbed a handful of Yoko's hair; tears formed at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them back. Her heart beat wildly in her chest.
Major!
There was another sharp spurt of fire from the rifle, then a rapid staccato of single shots, and then silence.
"Sounds like the fun's over already," said Yaozu, forcing Yoko's head back so that her eyes were pointing at his. "I hope it wasn't anyone you cared about."
Their faces flashed before her eyes once more; first Mr. Komatsu, and then Mari.
A roaring sound filled her ears, pounding through her veins.
Her eyes narrowed.
She was too tired, too unsteady to try to move. Instead, she spat full in the man's face.
He stared at her for a moment, a mixture of confusion and revulsion twisting his features, and then drew back his hand to strike her. She kept her eyes on his, waiting for the blow.
Just when he was about to move, something beyond her shoulder caught his attention.
Then his head exploded.
Yoko's vision swam, clouding with black at the edges.
Blood. Far too much blood.
She could feel it on her; dripping down her face, gluing her hair to her scalp.
The hand that had grasped her jacket clenched suddenly, pulling her forward as its owner crumpled to the ground, and she struggled desperately to escape it, to escape the blood…
Something hard struck the side of her head, and then everything went dark.
"Yoko!"
I sprinted into the room, over the corpse of the man who'd been holding her. My gun had been loaded with high-speed armor-piercing shells, and they had not been at all kind to his face.
The older man on the other side of the room was in about the same shape, and the less said about the three I'd left in the atrium, or at least what was left of them, the better.
Yoko was sprawled face-down on the floor, wedged in between the sofa and the low table. I felt along the length of her neck and spine for injuries, and then gently rolled her onto her back. She groaned softly, her eyelids fluttering as she struggled to open them.
It was as if all of the tension in my body had melted at once, blossoming into an indescribable feeling of relief. I had never thought I'd be so happy to feel her pulse throbbing beneath my fingers, or the ragged warmth of her breath on the back of my hand.
"Major…"
She blinked rapidly, trying to focus her eyes. She was in awful condition; her skin was pale, and there were deep, bruise-colored circles beneath her eyes. Her lips were rough and chapped from the cold, and her face and hair were splattered with blood.
"I'm right here," I said, taking her hand in mine. "Can you walk? We need to get somewhere safe – there's a group coming to pick us up."
"I don't…I don't know, I don't…"
She tried to sit up, but she was shaking so badly that I knew she'd never be able to stand, let alone move.
"It's okay," I said. "Just hold still for a moment."
I gathered her into my arms, lifting her in one smooth motion, and then hurried outside as quickly as I could.
There was still no sign of the riot squad the chief had sent, although the snow was falling so thickly that I could barely see the refugee camp five meters away; I needed to get out of the jamming zone and find out what was going on.
Aware every second of the soft weight pressing herself against my chest, I ran for the fence and leapt over it again. From there I jumped up onto the roof of another building that still stood on the other side of the narrow street; it was more exposed than I would have liked, but its height meant that we were still relatively safe.
As soon as I was clear of the static, I reached out for the cybercomm channel that would connect me to the area police.
This is Major Kusanagi of Section 9; the prime minister is in my custody at these coordinates. Requesting status report and ETA of backup.
One moment, please.
The link went temporarily blank as the android transferred me to her commander.
This is Kanto PD squad four; arrival in two minutes. Hold your current position.
Understood.
I let go of the channel, and then turned my attention back to Yoko. She shook fiercely; her head was tucked against my shoulder, and she had wrapped both arms around my neck, pulling her body as close to mine as she could.
I wanted nothing more than to hold her for as long as she needed, to give her whatever warmth she could draw from my body, until she felt safe again. If it had been my own team that was just two minutes away, they probably would have found me with my arms just as tight around her shoulders as hers were around mine right now.
Unfortunately, I was waiting on a group of anonymous police officers, and this was not something that any of them needed to see.
As delicately as I could, I wedged my hand between our bodies, pressing my palm against her shoulder, pushing her away. It took her a moment to realize what I was doing; a pitiful cry escaped her, and her fingers tightened desperately in the fabric of my combat jacket.
"Hey," I whispered, taking her face in my hands. "I know. But the police will be here any minute, and I need you to be the prime minister for the time being, all right?"
Her grip on my jacket loosened slightly.
"You're…going to stay with me…aren't you?"
"For as long as I can, yes."
She nodded slowly, and then began to disentangle herself from me.
I couldn't look her in the eye; I knew that if I did, I'd want to embrace her all over again. For now I would have to be content with the knowledge that she was here with me, alive and relatively unharmed.
Slightly less than a minute and a half later, the sound of a chopper's propellers cut through the snow, accompanied by the harsh glare of its landing lights. The prime minister was a little steadier now, and I helped her to stand, pulling her to the side so the craft would have space to set down. The hatch opened, and a man in a police uniform stepped out.
"There's a team investigating the other site, ma'am. We'll get you back to base; a JSDF unit is on its way to transport you to Fukuoka."
He was addressing the prime minister, but she didn't seem to be listening to him; she was wavering back and forth, clinging to my arm for support.
"Thank you," I said. "I'll make contact with my team when we arrive; this way, madam."
I helped the prime minister aboard the chopper, sitting her down on the bench against the wall and then situating myself beside her. The officer who'd met us on the ground fussed over her for a little while, asking if she was injured (she shook her head), did she need anything (she answered with only a feeble request for water), and was she comfortable (she nodded once, and then closed her eyes.)
"Before I go back up front, ma'am, did you want something to take care of the…well…?"
He moved his hand awkwardly in front of his eyes; I guessed that he was referring to the half-dried blood that still covered a decent amount of the prime minister's face.
"I'll get it," I said, fixing him with a look that clearly said it was time to leave the poor woman alone already. He nodded quickly and disappeared behind the partition that separated the cockpit from the cargo area.
Once he was out of sight, I retrieved a small towel from the first-aid kit beneath the bench, poured a little water on it, and began to dab gently at the bloodstains. They were stubborn, but I'd managed to clear away the worst of the mess by the time we landed. The officer escorting us opened the hatch; I took the prime minister's arm once more and guided her out onto the tarmac, toward the JSDF tilt-rotor that waited there.
The prime minister's security personnel were well represented among those on the ground; they rushed toward her the moment they saw her. I loosened my grip on her arm.
"Well, I guess my job here is done," I murmured.
She nodded resignedly, her eyes on the advancing group of black suits.
"I'll come and see you as soon as I can. Take care."
She nodded again, and then stepped forward to greet her staff. I watched as they began to lead her away.
"Wait," she said softly; the entire group paused as she turned to face me.
"Major Kusanagi?"
I bowed politely, as was expected of me.
"Ma'am?"
Her clouded eyes brightened, and a weary smile appeared on her face.
"Thank you."
I nodded shortly.
"You're welcome."
The prime minister turned around again and was immediately swallowed up by her entourage.
When I could no longer see her, I opened up a cybercomm channel.
Hey, Chief, it's me. The prime minister's back with her security people; they're taking her home right now. She's pretty shaken up, and she'll probably need some time to recover, but she's not hurt.
Excellent work. And the group that abducted her?
Neutralized, for the most part; the Kanto PD are still cleaning up the mess. I'll make a full report once I get back.
I'll be waiting.
Yup. See you.
I closed the channel, and then sighed heavily. Nobody had thought to offer me a ride, and the train station was still some distance away.
After taking a moment to work out my position, I took off into the night, leaving flurries of snow in my wake.