Miya didn't know what to think. In her hands lay incontrovertible proof that the unconscious man brought to her doorstep had some kind of connection to her late husband. However tenuous that connection was it was one that she was not privy to. Had her husband kept secrets from her after all? Was he a friend or associate that he never told her of or was this man involved with Takehito's disappearance somehow?
"Landlady?" said Musubi, poking her head into the room.
"Yes Musubi?" said Miya, startled by Musubi's sudden appearance though she hid it well.
"Would you mind if we sparred for a bit? I want to keep getting stronger for Minato!"
"Of course, just give me a moment," said Miya, smiling.
She put away the metallic contraption and reached for a wall mounted bokken. Miya would have to wait until the stranger woke up before she could get any answers out of him.
If that man is responsible for my husband's death, mused Miya as she made her way to the back yard, he will not leave this inn alive.
Karasuba sat in the lotus position polishing her second favourite sword. Much like herself, she always kept her weapons in perfect condition, ready to kill at a moments notice. Killing for Karasuba was as natural as breathing. It was a part of her nature. To all things there was a natural order and in her minds eye she saw herself at the top of that order, the lesser Sekirei were below her and humans… humans occupied an unnecessary position far below even the most pathetic Sekirei.
If she had it her way she would hack apart every man, woman and child. Humanity was a waste, their so called civilisation a blight upon the face of the Earth, their accomplishments laughable and that ephemeral thing they called 'love' a pathetic hallucination borne of a limited lifespan, limited imagination and even more limited intelligence.
That's why she wanted to see the world burn. The only reason she had allowed Natsuo, Ashikabi of the Discipline Squad to wing her had been due to a similar desire on his part. She would fight and win this pathetic little tournament… and when she did she would tear the world to its very foundations.
Yume would have stopped her, once upon a time. Yume had, in many ways, been a counterbalance to Karasuba. Yume had been the compassion to her mercilessness, the soothing wind to her rage, the faith to her nihilism. From the moment Minaka had proposed his Sekirei Plan she knew that Yume's fists would cross with her sword. She had dreamed of the battle to come with a lust that was only slaked by killing something. In the end Yume had given up her life, her very Tama – the physical soul of a Sekirei – to Musubi… a decision she could not for the life of her fathom. Why had Yume done that? What had been so important about Musubi that Yume had seen fit to give up her life for her?
Karasuba had never understood that decision. Now all that was left of Yume resided within Musubi. If her dream couldn't be satisfied by Yume, then Musubi would suffice… once she was strong enough. That had been why she'd always been warm towards her, kept her close. They'd made a promise to one another before Musubi had been released into the world to fight and win through until they were the only two left. She'd need to confirm that promise with Musubi and the sooner the better.
Karasuba held the sword aloft and traced its contours with a keen eye, scanning for flecks of blood, dirt, bone, gore and the usual contaminants that would build up with use. Finding none she gently sheathed the sword, rose and mounted it curve down before reaching for another of her swords… her favourite.
She unsheathed it with a slashing motion, a typical move when one intended to defeat ones opponent with a single strike, before drawing it back to inspect the blade. There were only three swords quite like this one in all of existence. It had been made by MBI using material scavenged from the spacecraft that had crashed on Kamikura island years ago, its design, curvature and forging had been handled by experts and optimised by computers. To say the sword was perfect would have been an understatement.
Only two others existed, belonging to Mutsu and Miya, but in Karasuba's mind her sword, despite being identical, was superior. It had one thing that the others' swords lacked though it had long since been cleaned off with loving care and attention.
The blood of Takehito Asama.
A darkened figure stood atop a building, familiar and yet not. He couldn't quite make them out, the sun was shining in his eyes, yet he felt a connection with this person.
"Who? I've finally found you…" said Minato.
"You bastard," said the figure acidly, "I'll kill you!"
Minato bolted upright in shock and cried out, startling several birds outside his window. He cast his gaze about in fear until his brain registered that he was still in his room, having fallen asleep whilst studying.
"A dream?" he muttered to himself.
He looked back to see Kusano rubbing her eyes drowsily. Evidently he'd woken her up.
"Ah, sorry, did I wake you up?" he asked her, feeling rotten for having interrupted her nap.
Before she could respond his phone bleeped with a text message from his sister.
Some things have come up; I'll have to visit later. I'll send you a mail soon… say hi to Musubi for me!
His sister was the same as always, a relief given the strange, though thoroughly enjoyable, times he was living in. Even so the dream had made him somewhat uneasy. It had the same feeling as the dream that had brought him and Kusano together and his instincts told him that he couldn't just dismiss it. Perhaps Matsu knew something that could help. He also needed to know a bit more about the Sekirei Plan. While he had seen how strong Sekirei were he felt compelled to protect the ones that he had winged as best he could, knowing more about the plan could only help matters.
Reverse the irreversible. That was Takami's current mission and she was failing. Once a Sekirei had bonded to their Ashikabi that was that, it was permanent, irreversible, set in stone. Despite her intelligence, her drive, her compassion for the Sekirei that had been bonded to Ashikabi that were far less than desirable she couldn't determine a way to reverse the bond without harming the Sekirei.
It was times like these that Takami was glad she only worked with cell cultures and not with live subjects. She shuddered to think what would become of the Sekirei if they had to endure the dangerous experimental phases of the bond reversal procedure.
Takami wished Takehito had still been alive. He'd discovered the Ashikabi genes, the winging process, he'd been the most inspired adjuster and… and he'd been her friend. She missed playing off him for ideas, arguing over points of theory, philosophy, morality and triviality. If he were here she was confident he'd have cracked the problem with little difficulty. How much of that fantasy was true and how much was her view through rose coloured goggles was a notion Takami didn't wish to contemplate.
With a sigh she pulled cell culture 17 from the exposure palette and slid it under a microscope. Dead. She set it aside for further analysis; even a failed experiment might yield important results, and pulled cell culture 18. Also dead.
She kept swapping out dead sample after dead sample. Her current technique was a cocktail of drugs and a classified form of radiotherapy to literally strip the Ashikabi genes that had bound themselves to the DNA of the Sekirei. The problem with the process was that it worked far too well. The Ashikabi genes were removed, certainly, but along with them came a whole host of important genes that were absolutely necessary to cell functioning. In its current incarnation Takami's bond reversal was excruciating death to any Sekirei that would undergo it.
With a huff Takami reached for a pack of cigarettes and pulled out a cancer stick before reconsidering at the last second. She'd killed enough cells for today, she'd been running herself ragged for the last few days and it showed. She passed the work on to the lab assistants that were paid to do the grunt work and stalked out.
She'd take the rest of the day off. She'd more than earned a little break, what with working on the Sekirei Plan, working out the details of her clandestine coup, treating Sekirei on the hidden floor of MBI tower and working on the bond reversal. She'd need all her strength for tomorrow when the Discipline Squad went after that fugitive and the opening for her little coup came through.
Miya swung the bokken with practised ease, stopping at just the right moment, and then drew the practice sword back before entering a different stance for a different swing. Though she didn't need training to maintain her skill and lethality in combat she nonetheless felt it was necessary to maintain mental and physical discipline.
Minato had left the inn earlier in the company of Kusano and Musubi to draw out Tsukiumi with the official excuse of going shopping. Miya had feigned ignorance, preferring to keep her true identity hidden from Minato.
She paused in her exercises and looked toward the sleeping figure on the step. Akitsu looked peacefully exhausted even in the throes of a deep sleep. Of all the Sekirei to find their way into Izumo House she felt Akitsu was the most deserving of compassion. As a discarded number she could never be winged, could never claim an Ashikabi for herself and could never fulfil what destiny had in store for her. Yet of all Sekirei it was arguably she was the most free. No fate bound her soul to another, MBI wouldn't be overly concerned if she chose to leave, her path was well and truly her own.
Miya turned her attention back to her exercises. In her minds eye she saw herself being ambushed by twelve others. With a single stroke she unsheathed her bokken, killing four in a single stroke just as the ancient grand designer of the Katana had intended. Sensing the others' approach, she leapt to the side and cut out the legs from under another of her assailants. Five down, seven to go.
She adopted a defensive crouch and glared at her imaginary foes. Miya enjoyed these mock battles with her own imagination. They kept her sharp, focused and prepared for any eventuality. If push ever came to shove, not that it would ever come to that, she was confident she could overpower any of the current tenants of Izumo House. Of course, if she truly believed any of the tenants would turn against her, they would never have been admitted in the first place.
The remaining foes rushed her all at once. She leapt up high enough to carry her over their defences and slashed down with her sword. One imaginary foe went down with a head that had been sliced open, another reeled back, wounded at the shoulder and bleeding out.
Five left. Now it was their turn to be defensive. Miya grinned as she swung her sword with grace. Her enemy parried expertly, opening her up to attack. Three rushed her but one held back, trying to circle round and ambush her from behind. She used the force of the parry to her advantage and redirected her swords path, cutting one opponent in the abdomen before the other two combined their strength to block her blade.
Four left. She drew her blade back and spun around, meeting the enemy that had tried to slice her back open with a rapid kick that sent him flying. Not willing to leave her flank exposed for any longer than was necessary, she completed her spin with her blade in a matching arc. They barely had any time to react. Two heads flew up in the air, one severed at the neck, the other at about eye level.
Two left. The one she had kicked had recovered and was charging at her in a rage. The other knew that he was in a hopeless bloodbath and panicked, dropping his sword. Miya didn't even hesitate. She sliced off the arm he'd favoured for his sword and swung around to deal with his enraged comrade… too late. The imaginary foe ran her through the heart right up to the hilt of his sword but not without paying the necessary price.
In her minds eye the foes, the blood, severed viscera all disappeared. It wasn't often that she envisioned defeat but she always had to consider the possibility. A failure to do so would only ensure it when the time finally came. Even after all these years she found she could always surprise herself in such training sessions. Sometimes she would face off against a thousand such foes, fighting without neither want nor care for living. Other times she found herself fighting just a single foe as powerful and as skilled as herself. Only Karasuba came close to matching her.
Karasuba. The name left a bitter taste in her mouth. She'd been less than tactful about Takehito's death. Karasuba's condescending attitude in Miya's time of grief hadn't gone over well. There was also a part of Miya that suspected, but could never prove, that Karasuba had had something to do with Takehito's death. If she could ever prove it… there wasn't a force on Earth that could stop her from balancing the scales. She knew there would be collateral damage if it ever came down to a fight between Karasuba and herself but Miya knew herself well enough to know she wouldn't care.
Takehito. The discipline squad. The stranger and fugitive from MBI. Somehow they were linked. Miya could feel that in her bones. She bowed slightly to her long-gone imaginary foes and strode softly past a sleeping Akitsu to finish out her chores for the day.
Akitsu stopped in the waist high red grass. She looked up and saw an orange sky shining with the character of fire. In the distance, silver mountains reflected the sky back to itself, creating a shimmering vista that, though alien in nature, stole her breath in wonderment.
This was no place on Earth that she could think of that much was obvious to her. Yet she had seen this place before… not personally but second hand. The café sprung to mind, that thing the Doctor had done to try and help her. She'd caught a glimpse of his mind. That glimpse had been the equivalent of capturing a single drop of water in comparison to the vast ocean of which it had once been a part.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" said the Doctor.
Akitsu turned to look at him. He hadn't been there a moment a go.
"It's been so long since I thought of home… Gallifrey. I think I like to bury the memory so it won't hurt me," he mused absently.
"Doctor?" queried Akitsu.
"No, not really," he replied, "Just an echo… an afterimage of what you saw from before. This dream is just your way of trying to sort through what you saw."
The Doctor approached and put his arm around her, guiding her towards… a blue box. Behind the blue box stood a grand citadel, towering into the sky and protected by a transparent bubble of some kind. Even from this distance Akitsu could see the size and grandeur or the citadel, a monument built to withstand time and proclaim to the ages the glory of the civilisation that built it.
"It's starting," said the Doctor.
Akitsu felt it. A deep rumbling that came from the sky and the ground. She looked up and saw them, flying disclike ships that swarmed the skies, they radiated a malice that Akitsu had only encountered in her nightmares.
"Who? What?" she asked, her monotone not betraying the primal fear that surged through her.
"The Daleks," said the Doctor in a tone of dread, "This is the day it all started. The first day of the Time War."
The Doctor didn't wait for the shooting to begin. He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her towards the blue box, flung the doors open with casual recklessness and crossed the threshold with an impatient nonchalance.
Akitsu blinked. She rubbed her eyes to ensure they weren't deceiving her. The box had been tiny on the outside and yet within…
"Yes, bigger on the inside!" said the Doctor excitedly, clapping his hands with glee.
"Where?" asked Akitsu.
"Welcome to the TARDIS, Akitsu. TARDIS stands for Time and Relative Dimensions In Space… just a fancy way of saying the old girl is bigger on the inside then it is on the outside. She's my Spaceship, my Time Machine and my friend!" rambled the Doctor.
"She?" queried Akitsu with a hint of jealousy.
As though in response, the central pylon shimmered, hummed and pulsed with motion, generating a grinding sound that was familiar to her ears. The Doctor leapt over to a nearby console and then began to stroke it lovingly, whispering sweet nothings into a nearby speaker patch. Akitsu's feelings of jealousy quadrupled on the spot.
"Now, I'd offer to take you somewhere but as I mentioned earlier, this is a dream, and unfortunately you're about to wake up," said the Doctor.
"I am?" asked Akitsu.
"Ah, you're awake," said Miya as she stood nearby her.
Was she awake? Akitsu didn't even remember opening her eyes… for that matter she couldn't accurately recall when or where the dream had transitioned over to reality. She sat up experimentally. Everything felt surreal, as though she were still dreaming.
"Awake," said Akitsu, feeling a slight crack in her neck after having fallen asleep at an awkward angle.
"Good," said Miya with a genuine smile, "Its best that you go and clean yourself up. Once you're finished, you can help me with dinner."
Dinner? How long had she been asleep for? The sun seemed to be coming from a vastly different angle, had she really slept through most of the day so casually? Then again, considering how exhausted she had been…
My Ashikabi, she thought.
That entire time he'd been without her protection, lying in his room, vulnerable to anyone that would stake a claim to his sleeping form.
She shot up with a suddenness that her body was not quite ready for and stumbled towards his room. She barely took two steps before a hand on her shoulder stopped her cold.
"He is quite safe, anyone who does harm to another while under my roof is not welcome in Izumo House," she said with an unnerving sweetness.
All she needs is a hannya mask, thought Akitsu. For one terrifying moment her mind supplied the necessary imagery.
"You needn't worry about the others. Aside from Matsu and your Ashikabi, only you and I remain in Izumo House. Now, go bathe, I'm afraid you're beginning to smell," said Miya.
Akitsu looked at Miya's back as she walked towards the kitchen. She sniffed idly.
The landlady was right. She was beginning to smell.
Chiho lay in her hospital bed, dejectedly staring up at the ceiling and occasionally out the window to see the open sky before her. She'd been sick ever since she was a little girl… the virus that had weakened her was tenacious. No matter what treatments the doctors gave, the result was always the same; effective enough to ward off the worst of the virus, but never enough to eliminate it entirely.
She'd been living a lonely life in the hospital until Uzume came along. The time they spent together seemed to fly past, always being cut short by the restrictions on visiting hours. She came whenever she could, dressed up in costumes for her, and told her wild and fanciful stories about the place she was staying in. Uzume was the light of Chiho's life, made all the better by the fact that they shared a bond unique to the both of them: the bond of Ashikabi and Sekirei.
It was then that she felt that familiar empathic tug on her heart. Something was worrying Uzume. What worried Uzume inevitably worried her as well… but she knew that Uzume had reserves of strength and tenacity that would help her overcome most everything. Chiho had become convinced, lately, that it was Uzume's inner strength that had kept her alive and fighting for the last few weeks. Whenever she felt weak or drained she would just think of her smile, the way she looked at her when she was unconcerned with worry or the Sekirei Plan and the lethargy would fly away from her like a startled bird. Just thinking of her now was helping to lift her spirits.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a nurse coming to check on her.
"You have a visitor, a police officer wishes to ask you a few questions," said the nurse.
A police officer? Questions? What? Thought Chiho as the officer in question strode in.
The officer wore thin rectangular black glasses, her hair was done up in a regulation bun, in addition to a smartly cleaned and pressed uniform endemic to the Tokyo Police department complete with gloves, radio, handcuffs and a revolver. Her demeanour was all business, not at all like the police officers she saw in dramatised television shows that resolved crimes in ludicrously short times.
"Ms. Hidaka?" said the police officer as she pulled out a notepad and a pencil.
Chiho nodded apprehensively.
"Ms. Chiho Hidaka?" queried the officer further as though to confirm something.
Chiho nodded again. The officer scribbled a note on her pad and then settled a prickling glare at Chiho as though she were guilty of a crime.
"We understand that you've been in contact with a certain individual, known in some circles by the name of 'Uzume', is this correct?" asked the officer crisply.
"I… yes I know her. What's this about?"
The officer jotted down another note before continuing.
"And she's been visiting you almost every day, is this correct?"
"Yes… what's this about? Has something happened to her?" asked Chiho, her worry rising.
"We've had a few anonymous tip offs about some criminal activity involving both her and you," confirmed the officer.
"What? Her and me? She would never… I could never… what are you talking about?" asked Chiho with growing confusion.
In a flash the officer brandished the handcuffs and cuffed her.
"You're under arrest for grand theft," said the officer with a contempt reserved only for hardened criminals.
"Theft? Theft! What did I steal?" exclaimed Chiho.
With her remaining hand the police officer pulled off her glasses and undid her bun, letting her hair fall free.
"You stole my heart," said the grinning officer, revealing herself to be Uzume in disguise.
Chiho gasped. Then she giggled as the tension unravelled from within. Then she burst out laughing at exactly how silly the entire situation had been. Uzume had had her completely fooled from the very beginning… her demeanour and look had been completely different from how she usually was. That combined with makeup and keeping her off balance with the serious tone and fairly convincing police talk had managed to keep her fooled.
"Never, never do that again!" giggled Chiho.
She pulled Uzume closer in by the handcuffs, still attached to both their respective wrists.
"You didn't enjoy that?" asked Uzume coquettishly.
"Only the part where I realised it was you," said Chiho before whispering, "and just how criminally good you look in a uniform!"
Uzume reddened slightly at just how openly she'd admitted to that particular fetish, even if it was in a hushed whisper.
"Shh!" hissed Uzume while trying to stifle a giggle of her own, "If you get too excited they'll throw me out like they did last time!"
"Last time we weren't handcuffed together," said Chiho coyly, "They're very nice handcuffs by the way."
"I think I may have lost the key somewhere," said Uzume with a wink.
Chiho picked up on the subterfuge instantly. More than a few times the doctors and nurses had shooed Uzume away as a nuisance to their patient, or Uzume had been called away on some sort of business. Cuffed as they were Chiho was glad that she could spend quite a bit of much needed time with the woman she loved as much as life itself.
Akitsu had had time to think about her dream while using the Furo. Had that truly been the Doctor's home world? Had it truly been consumed by war? The imagery had been accompanied by a feeling of… loneliness. Even when he'd been stroking and crooning the innards of that blue box he'd called the TARDIS with a love that fired a jealous zeal in her, she'd sensed distinct and abject loneliness radiating from the Doctor.
She realised that he wanted the company of others, desperately wanted to have someone to be his anchor, to keep him from going too far. She was the opposite. The company of others disrupted her carefully cultivated silence and solitude.
Though it had been days since he'd last been awake… the chaos and confusion that the Doctor seemed to bring about in her… hadn't been entirely unpleasant. The opposite, in fact. It was as though she were rediscovering a part of herself that had long been buried and forgotten.
As Akitsu was drying herself off she heard a commotion from downstairs.
"Stay off him! I'm his legal wife!" shouted an unfamiliar voice.
The sounds of an argument rapidly ensued with the voices rising higher and higher as Akitsu got dressed. Though Akitsu had every confidence that the landlady would control any violent outbursts she wanted to hurry down and ensure no harm could come to the Doctor.
"Well if this is how it's going to be let's fight!" shouted the same unfamiliar voice with the anger of a woman scorned.
Akitsu hurried down the stairs but was stopped short by Matsu, who held a finger to her lips and listened in while the landlady delivered discipline backed up by a warning that would have sent mutually belligerent armies into screaming retreat. Akitsu took the hint and listened in as Miya explained her understanding of the situation. She stole a quick peek around the corner before pulling back, just long enough to catch a glimpse of the newcomer.
Number 09, Tsukiumi, and from the smell of her, newly winged by Minato. Akitsu knew her as a fellow elementalist, with mastery over water as opposed to her mastery over ice. She was said to be as powerful as she was beautiful, which Akitsu had, until now, thought unjustified hyperbole. The other rumour that she'd heard was that she hated Ashikabi… the fact that Minato had even managed to wing her and live spoke of determination, strength or sheer luck. Probably all three.
She barely noticed as Kagari headed up the stairs after a brief exchange with Tsukiumi, followed by Matsu. Now that the commotion was over with Akitsu felt it best that she come forward and offer to help the landlady with dinner. It was only fair as she was sheltering the Doctor from a world that wanted to harm him.
"Minato! Is this another of your Sekirei!" exclaimed an irate Tsukiumi at the sight of Akitsu.
"No! No! She isn't mine!" insisted Minato.
Tsukiumi gave a withering glare to her Ashikabi before settling the self same glare directly at Akitsu, looking at her closely as though sizing her up for a fight.
"And who exactly are you?" asked Tsukiumi, her eyes fixed squarely on the Sekirei Crest tattooed onto Akitsu's forehead.
"Akitsu," she said.
"Do you not have a number? Where is your Ashikabi?"
"Ehehe, Tsukiumi! Perhaps we should let Akitsu help the landlady with dinner?" said Minato as he mercifully pulled Tsukiumi away from Akitsu to quietly explain her situation tactfully.
It was as dinner was almost done that Uzume finally returned home still in her police uniform. The intoxicating smell of food was enough to make her stomach thunder with demanding approval at the meal to come.
In the end the doctor's hadn't much been perturbed by the handcuffs as she had hoped they would… apparently they indeed were prepared for almost any situation that might arise… and that included a pair of industrial strength bolt cutters to separate patients and visitors.
Still, the entire affair had served its purpose in lifting Chiho's spirits. More than that it had made her laugh, smile, and completely forget that she was sick, even if only for a time. Through it all the love for her Ashikabi had only grown. Her only regret was that she couldn't spend more time just being with her.
"Ah, how did your visit go?" Miya asked in greeting at the door.
"It went well," said Uzume as she presented her half of the handcuffs.
"Ah, I hope you didn't have any improper relations in the hospital with your Ashikabi," said Miya sweetly with more than a hint of cheek in her words.
"Uhh… no… nothing at all like that…" said Uzume nervously. She couldn't quite tell if she was being teased or threatened at the moment. She decided to go the safe route and assume that it was both simultaneously and do her best to not find out and break the quantum state.
"Dinner is almost ready, get changed and be down quickly," said Miya before setting back off the kitchen.
Minaka was a genius. That's what every single evaluation of his psyche and intelligence said. That's what everyone that worked with him said. Even Takami had begrudgingly acknowledged his ludicrously sharp mind. Even so, Minaka knew that the line between genius and insanity was the one ephemeral thing that he was usually quite excellent at catching: success.
Thus far the blue box he'd had delivered to the lab inside MBI tower had defeated him time and again, insisting to almost every instrument that it was made of wood and nothing of any terrible importance. But Minaka felt, he knew, better and the instruments he'd brought in from Kamikura confirmed that. The alien technology had confirmed to him that this blue box was anything but. It was a chameleon, an entity that could change its size, its shape, and its very appearance to fool one into thinking it unremarkable.
That could only mean great power and treasures within. Minaka was salivating with the possibilities. One alien spacecraft had fallen into his lap and once exploited using his genius had made him one of the most powerful men on the planet. The problem was getting in. Nothing man made could penetrate the surface.
It was a good thing he had access to certain alien technologies. Pieces scrummed and scavenged from dozens of shady organisations, private collections and in at least one case technically on loan from UNIT after he'd "encouraged" a very blackmail-able official to do him a favour.
Now before him stood the oddest contraption of jury rigged alien and human technology he'd ever had reason to construct. Minaka had missed this kind of challenge, the hands on problems that he alone could solve. The Sekirei Plan had been the one thing keeping him from getting bored to tears with running MBI.
He called it the Locksmith. It was built from an alloy called Dalekanium, scavenged from the few Daleks to have been destroyed during their 2008 invasion. Much of the conducting fibre had been extracted from the ATMOS devices that had nearly choked the world with toxic fumes. Most of the more mundane functions, aiming, tracking and so forth were carried out by good old Japanese electronics. The final and most crucial pieces however had been the most difficult to locate.
In the middle of a long cylindrical chamber a Dalek eyepiece sat. Alone it was harmless. Minaka had found however that if one ran a laser through it the laser light was greatly amplified. The Locksmith was one of the worlds first superconducting ultra-amplified laser systems to be built in such a compact package. As it was it was completely useless to Minaka's desires.
But he had yet to install the final piece. There were only eight of them in existence as far as he knew, and one of them had been stolen some time ago. It was a long, slender crystal.
It was one of the Jinki, precious, powerful, mysterious. From what he could decipher of them, they were vessels of the gods, the heart and soul of their most powerful weaponry. Minaka believed that when gathered together and used properly the Jinki would bring about the age of the gods once more. If used improperly, they could eliminate all Sekirei and the Ashikabi they were linked to. He was willing to take the risk to penetrate the secrets of the blue box… but he had to be careful nonetheless.
Minaka deftly inserted the Jinki in front of the Dalek eyepiece so it was the very last component the laser would be filtered through and powered up the Locksmith. He aimed it carefully at the "lock" on the door of the blue box. While he knew that its appearance was merely and illusion he knew from the camera footage that the illusion still fit followed a certain logic. The Doctor had left through the self same door as caught on the CCTV footage he'd managed to acquire. It stood to reason that disguised as it was it would still need a recognisable system of entry and security, and if that held up in the illusion, that meant that a door would still be a door and a locking system would still be a locking system. He hoped.
"Firing Laser!" he shouted to no one in particular and pushed the button. He'd always wanted to say that out loud.
The laser hummed with power. Unlike lasers depicted on horribly unrealistic television shows, the laser light was invisible even while travelling through the air. The only way anyone could see the laser would be if they were right in front of it, and then only for a fraction of a second before it burned through their skull. That or if they decided to scatter the beam with an aerosol. Minaka dialled up the power of the beam. Coolant systems began to work as several of the looser components of the jury rigged Locksmith began to rattle slightly.
Minaka adjusted the wavelength of the laser as the Jinki began to glow. It was times like this that his instincts were razor sharp. Science came as naturally to Minaka as breathing did to most people. He brought the wavelength down to 225 nanometers. The coolant systems were working overtime as the machine rattled with the power pulsing through it and all the while the Jinki simply sat there and glowed, eerily unphased by the rattling machine.
Something in the back of his mind nagged at him to stop but he refused. He checked his instruments and readings on the blue box and found them to be oscillating… that was a good sign! He was getting closer! He felt it! He knew it!
The nagging feeling in the back of his mind changed tone, asking him to stop, to please stop, that what he was doing was wrong. Minaka knew there was something wrong. A voice was in his head trying to get him to back down from a treasure trove of discovery waiting behind that door. Was this some kind of defence mechanism? Was that blue box somehow alive and trying to defend itself?
A wordless scream filled his head but the underlying message was the same: asking, begging, and screaming for him to stop. Minaka's hand reached over to the button that would cut power to the laser but stopped himself short. He would not be circumvented. He would not be coerced. He would not be stopped. If the blue box was alive, if this mental compulsion was some kind of last ditch defence then it must mean he was right on the threshold of a discovery that would be the envy of the ages. Minaka grit his teeth and stood resolute.
The scream stopped. The laser shut down by itself. Minaka blinked. Had the cooling system initiated an auto shutdown? Had he failed? Minaka checked over the Locksmith's systems. Heat was in the proper range, power flow was all good… And then he saw it. Minaka wasn't quite sure what to make of it.
The door to the blue box was ajar.
It was late in Izumo House. Everyone had retired to bed after dinner. Akitsu, at the landlady's behest, was sleeping in a separate room from the Doctor while he slept on in blissful ignorance in his own room.
The Doctor's eyes burst open and he shot up in shock. It felt as though someone had kicked him squarely in the guts. The TARDIS. He couldn't feel the TARDIS anymore. It had gone into lockdown. That was bad. Very Bad. With Capital Letters To Indicate The Importance Of The Statement. Very. Very. Bad.
To the Doctor's complete and total lack of surprise it got worse as he felt the tip of something sharp and hard at the edge of his throat pressing with enough force to let him know he was completely at someone's mercy but not quite hard enough to break skin. Yet. The lights flickered on and he saw a very formidable looking woman holding an equally formidable looking sword. As far as swords went there was a wrong end and a wronger end to be at. The Doctor felt he was at the very least on the wrong end at the moment.
"My name is Miya Asama," said the woman icily as she threw the Doctor's Sonic Screwdriver at him.
She then held up an identical Sonic Screwdriver.
"You knew my husband," she continued in that same deathly cold tone, "Prepare to talk!"