The rain had ceased for the time being, instead it threateningly grumbled as the low clouds swept through Kyoto's skyline, which, as he noticed, was far into the distance, almost framing the sun as it crept lower and lower into the evening sky. He cautiously stepped down, out of the bus. Miki soon followed him, her shorter hair swaying slightly in the breeze. The same wind brushed and lapped against his clothing, causing his overcoat to flap around, as if it had a mind of it's own.
"Thiiiiiiiii…" She dragged the word out, looking around for a landmark to orient herself. Miki knew that they were at least in the same district as the safehouse, but they had always approached it from the other side. The buildings around her were foreign, their gray shapes not recognized by the other gray shapes she had known. Not the best idea to meet a friend you haven't spoken to in 8 years in of all places, a bus stop.
Miki's wide eyes turned into a scowl, signifying her defeat against the unfamiliar landscape. "C'mon." She said, dragging him to the right, down the sidewalk. Hisao shook off her vice grip and walked alongside her. She was less paranoid now, but she still remained wary, observing every person who passed them carefully.
She almost bumped into a little girl as she was squinting at a man in a trench coat. She mumbled her apologies and caught up with Hisao.
"Why are you so paranoid?" Hisao asked suddenly, stopping in his tracks. Miki's eyes opened wide, what, did she think she was stealthily checking over her shoulder every minute or so?
After a second or so, Miki seemed to gather her thoughts. "Sorry…" She said, bringing her shoulders into a light shrug. "Just a little on edge."
"'A little on edge' isn't checking over your shoulders every 30 seconds Miki." He turned around, looking directly at her. She seemed shocked, as if she was doing it unconsciously. Was she?
"I… uhm…" It was the first time in awhile that he saw Miki struggle for words. She was usually quick with the comebacks, and never really had trouble managing a tricky social situation. Ms. Miura always had a certain talent when it came to people.
"You're asking a lot of me, trusting a person who left us 8 years ago." Hisao continued, taking a step toward her, muscles tensing in his increasing anger.
"I didn't-" She began, but he cut her off.
"Where were you when she disappeared, huh? Maybe I wouldn't be such a fucking wreck if I had a… friend to share it with, if I can even call you that anymore." He flexed his fists, an unconscious reaction to this whole situation. His anger wasn't loud and boisterous, rather it was quieter, subtler. It was the kind of anger you would associate with a normally calm person who'd been pushed over the edge. In Hisao's case, he'd been pushed over the edge, shot, poisoned, hung, burned, blinded, and scarred.
His anger was currently telling him he hit every rock on the way down. And right now, it felt good. It felt great to release all the pent up anger he'd been harboring ever since Miki came so suddenly back into his life.
After he was finished with is rant, Miki was stunned momentarily. Her face contorted as she tried to make sense of what he had just said. That she didn't do anything about it? Her expression suddenly and started walking rapidly in their current direction of travel, ignoring the constant questions he was supplying. At one point, he almost sounded bewildered, and it was hard for Miki to suppress that smile.
The people they passed on the sidewalk gave them confused expressions. Good. She thought, her mind only focused on getting to the safehouse, Maybe then Hisao will finally feel something. She couldn't lie, it was fun dragging him around like this, almost as if they were kids again. She suppressed that pang of emotion as she continued her pissed-off façade.
Meanwhile, Hisao had no idea what was going on. He expected her to avoid his questions, or even apologize, but here he was, being dragged along by the person he'd been screaming at moments earlier. He tried to get a better look at her, to see if this was just another one of her acts, but no dice, she was serious.
He sighed as they continued to attract more attention from the pedestrians on the sidewalk. For a so suddenly paranoid girl, she seemed pretty okay about all of this. Then again, maybe she had a point to make.
As if Miki had heard his thoughts, she suddenly stopped at a small green door, tucked between two storefronts. He'd noticed that they had been heading into the seedier section of town for awhile now, and the door he stood infront of seemed to complete the illusion.
If fumbling for a key could be seen as angry, Miki managed it. She shoved her right hand in her pants pocked and rumbled about. She drew out a small brass key, which she shoved into the door, turning it as if her life depended on breaking that door. Not that it would've taken any special effort, it looked about as sturdy as a fence on beach dunes. She managed to get it open, the door opening all the way. In front of them was a staircase that lead upward, the sole lightbulb illuminating the staircase flickered lightly, casting the entire setup in an eerie glow.
"This is considered 'safe'?" Hisao asked, not really expecting an answer. Instead, Miki continued her vice-like grip on his arm, almost throwing him up the steps. They creaked underneath him, the wood threatening to give under their combined weight. How was this a safehouse? A small child could easily break down the door, why keep it locked.
They reached the top of the staircase, and this is where it became apparent. Miki wasn't kidding. The door here was made out of some type of metal, most likely steel. There was a keypad on the side. An electronic lock? She started to type in a combination, jabbing the keys with her index finger. Miki was hard pressed to keep this act going for long. She stepped aside to show Hisao the combination.
6E2FA.
Hexadecimal? That was a new one. He memorized the combination as the door hissed opened, being kept in place with pneumatics. Where had she found this place? He wondered this as Miki stepped into the room beyond. It was dark, he could hardly see anything. Miki fumbled alongside the left side of the wall with her hand… er… stump. Eventually she found what she was looking for, a short click emanated from the wall, and the entire room infront of him lit up.
Hisao stepped into the large room, the florescent lights finishing their routine. His jaw dropped. Computer equipment was scattered around, one of the corners being dedicated to the tech. Another corner held a few cots, along with the same kind of curtains you would see in field hospitals. In the middle of the room was a large whiteboard, absolutely littered with pictures, documents, and post-it notes. 5 chairs lay unused by the whiteboard, waiting to be filled by a team in briefing. In a corner near the back, 5 recliners sat around a central table. A small crate sat in the opposite corner, strangely isolated from everything else.
The room itself was painted a light blue color, the paint chipping in some places, a testament to the neglect this place had suffered before they moved in. There was some detritus scattered on the floor of the room, mostly concentrated near the computer area and the white board.
He wondered, what were those recliners for? He didn't think it was meant for the express purpose of luxury, there had to be something else about it.
As he took all of it in, Miki spoke up.
"You see this Hisao? All of this? While you were moping around on your ass all day, I was here, looking for her." As much as he wanted to sock her in the face again, she was right. He'd hadn't actually done anything to help for her search. 3 hours ago, this thought would've sent him into another bout of his depression, but somehow it gave him hope.
She sighed, more as a relief that she didn't have to act the hard-ass anymore. "Look, the others will be here shortly, then we can begin explaining to you all of this."
Others? What others?
"How many?" Hisao asked, trying to make out the writing on the whiteboard. It looked more like scribbles to him then anything else. Even so, something jumped out to him, a picture lay in the center, connected to others by strings of yarn. It depicted a large metal briefcase, which lay closed on a table. He could at least make out the scribbles underneath it.
"PASIV Device" bore the inscription. He'd heard that name before. In the news? Wherever he had heard it, he could recall it now. He turned to Miki, filled with even more questions, but the cat-like grin had returned to her face. He'd remain in his current state until the other's came. He sighed, sitting backwards on the chair to face Miki.
What a shit-eating grin. It was the kind of smile you wore when you completely exceeded their expectations. For now, she had. Hisao was honestly pretty impressed with the girl. Before, he wasn't sure whether she even meant her words or not, but now Hisao had no doubts. Miki meant business.
She wanted her friend back as much as he wanted his lover.
They stayed here for awhile, around 20 minutes. Miki eventually took position on one of the chairs next to him, leaning it back as far as she could without falling. Hisao watched this charade, waiting for the moment that she would fall backwards on the ground. The silence was almost oppressive, would it kill her to get a couple of fans in here?
At that moment, he could faintly hear the sound of a door unlocking, and the same creak he had heard earlier. Miki almost fell backwards to the sudden noise, thankfully catching herself and righting the chair. Hisao found his heart-rate quickening. He'd have to remember to grab his meds when he went back to get his stuff. He assumed from the cots that Miki intended this place to be a bit more than just a planning room.
He turned his attention back to the door, he heard the steps creak as one… no two pairs footsteps made their way up towards them. Miki exhaled through her nose, a smile appearing on her face.
He heard the muted beeps of the keypad. Whoever was typing on the keypad was doing so rapidly. A loud, muted beep emanated from outside the door, and a bout of grumbling followed it. Miki's smile grew even wider.
"New passcode's 6E2FA, dumbass." She yelled at the door. A short pause before Hisao heard the beeping again, this time the hissing of the door was heard, and it was slowly pushed open. He heard a pair of heavy footfalls come through the door.
"HISAO!" The man screamed, walking toward him, gesturing wildly. "WHY ARE YOU WITH THIS GODDAMN FEMINIST?!" His screeching made Hisao nearly cover his ears. The man stopped mid-stride, looking directly towards Hisao.
All of a sudden the man started laughing uproariously, and it took him a good while to calm down. "I had you for a second there bro."
Kenji Setou, his only male friend from Yamaku. The sole leader against the feminist armies was here, working for a woman? Kenji either had changed greatly, or he was about to pull Hisao aside and tell him he was doing undercover work.
"I guess that's my cue to come in." A much more measured voice came from behind the door, and out stepped a woman.
Well, it was hard to tell, she certainly had an androgynous quality about her, but Hisao knew her well enough to know that it was still the same Akira Satou. She had cut down the indeterminate mop of hair she once had, and most of the rest was hidden between a black newsboy cap, save for the sides. She was wearing a black suit vest, with matching slacks.
She smiled, echoing Miki's words from hours ago. "Jesus Hisao, you look like shit." This elicted a laugh from Miki. Akira smiled, a grin not unlike the one Miki bore when she knew she had the upper hand. These two girls quite alike, it was no wonder how the two became friends. She walked forward, sitting in one of the chairs, leaning back.
She was a strange person alright. For someone who almost always dressed formally, she was one of the most informal people he'd ever met. That and Kenji, who still stood, hands in his pockets. As if Miki had heard his thoughts, she nodded over to Kenji, who stood there dumfounded for a moment before suddenly realizing that he had something to do.
Kenji strode over to the corner filled with computers, he sat in the chair, a hearty pomf escaped from the pillowed seat. Hisao began to hear him typing on the keyboard. He did so for 10 seconds or so, before reaching for something on the desk, a remote? He pointed it above their heads, and only then did Hisao notice that he was sitting underneath a projector.
He rotated around in his seat. Miki had flipped the whiteboard to the other, thankfully clean side. It made a makeshift screen for whatever they were about to show him. The fans of the projector above him hummed to life, and a dull light began to flicker on the whiteboard, gradually becoming clearer. It was a document.
Dream Sharing: An Introduction
He couldn't make out the author's names at this point, but he didn't need the projector to be warmed up to see the gigantic red stamp that read "Confidential" that lay across the screen. He heard the steps of Kenji coming back, carrying the remote.
"Oh man, this is gonna blow your mind dude." He said as he walked past Hisao. Turns out, Kenji hadn't changed, he just found another conspiracy to latch onto. At least this time it was possibly real.
Miki stood and cleared her throat. "I won't mince words here, Hisao, we think we know why Suzu was kidnapped."
He didn't show any signs of a reaction. That's the reason they brought him here right? They wouldn't have brought him for any other reason, or so he hoped.
"Kenji, page 21." Miki said, looking off-center.
"You're the boss." Kenji replied as he stretched his hand backward to control the projector. Brief flashes of the other pages appeared on screen, he saw a couple diagrams, one of a metal briefcase, another of a giant 'X' over what he assumed was a house. Eventually, Kenji managed to get it to page 21. There was a title at the top, labeled 'The Host'.
He quickly scanned through the document.
…extractions more complex than a single level require a host to remember the information. It is not known at the time, but the host must have slightly altered brain chemistry in order to retain the information. This required brain chemistry is observed most often in individuals who suffer the condition known as 'Narcolepsy'…
Hisao stopped, reading over that line several times before the full weight of the information hit him.
Suzu hadn't been kidnapped for money, she'd been kidnapped to be an information mule for criminals. Honestly, Hisao couldn't fathom which was worse.
"I…see…" Hisao's exterior began to crack, the same one he had built when she had disappeared. He exhaled sharply, rubbing his eyes with one hand. He looked back up, Miki looked him with an aura of concern.
"What's our plan?" He said quickly, giving Miki her cue to monologue.
"Well, the authorities haven't helped us." She said, referring to the techniques Hisao had tried earlier. "They're professionals, and they just so happen to be extractors."
"Extractors?" Hisao questioned.
This time, Akira spoke up. "People who go into your subconscious to steal the information…" She knocked the side of her head. "…right within here."
"So you're telling me that they kidnapped Suzu to help steal information from a person's brain?" Hisao asked, still bewildered by the whole situation. He rubbed the side of his cheek, feeling the scruff underneath his fingers.
"Pretty mu-"
"And how exactly are we going to get her back? I hope it's not your usual idea of shooting everywhere until we find them." Hisao interrupted.
Miki frowned, the same kind of frown she showed when she was trying to get a reaction out of someone. "I'm offended that you'd even think that was my… only plan."
If Hisao were a different man, he might've laughed. And indeed, years ago, he would've.
"Kenji, slide 13." Miki nodded.
The blur of slides continued, backward this time, before it reached the slide. He'd seen this one before, the diagram of the briefcase. Below the picture, it was entitled 'PAISV Device'.
"What's that?" Hisao asked.
"That, Hisao." Miki stood and walked over to the whiteboard, flipping it over again to the messy side. He noticed that the diagram and the picture of the center matched.
"Is our plan."
"A briefcase is your plan?"
"No." She scoffed, as if she expected him to get this in 5 minutes. This was the first time he'd ever heard of this.
"To find the extractors, we have to become extractors."