The people watching the scene would later remember the youngest and most important actor in the scene by three details: her long, silky mane of dark blue hair, her stunningly brilliant green eyes – and the way those eyes were twisted, with the rest of her face, in a scowl that had nothing to do with her single-digit age. The object she was scowling at, after all, would have made brave men three or four times her age tremble at its implications.
The object in question was black. Had the little girl been more jaded by age, she would have rolled her eyes at the typicality and unoriginality of it, or perhaps even wondered (in a typically flippant manner, of course,) if she had a choice of colors: perhaps a dark blue to match her hair? Or a green for her eyes? After all, if the object in question was ever activated, she wouldn't exactly have the chance to make herself presentable before someone would find her corpse. Of course, as she had only been nine years old at the time, none of these morbid thoughts would cross through her brain until two years later, far too late to ask for a different paint job on it.
The two handguns pointed at her head did not waver (not that she really noticed them anymore; she'd been at gunpoint whenever she wasn't "properly secured" in her cell for the past two weeks, now) as the man in a white lab-coat closed it around her neck like a pincer and, after making sure her hair wasn't in the way, fastened it with a loud and final click.
It was surprisingly light and balanced, forgettably so, and while its hard plastic surface was a bit cold, she could already feel it warming up to her body heat. She moved her neck a bit and found, to her relief, that the injection needles on both sides were far enough as to avoid scratching her whenever she moved as she had feared. Apparently, whoever had designed the damned thing had given half a thought about the comfort of the person—nay, the HiME– wearing it.
Even now, the thought never failed to make her snort in disgust.
"It's in place," the man said afterward. The person whom the little girl thought looked like a wigged clown in black, who had been watching the proceedings from his seat oh-so-high above her and the rest of the crowd like a metaphorical moral high ground, gave a satisfied nod.
"Then," he began, "Kuga Natsuki, you will begin to serve your sentence tomorrow. An officer will come to you and take you to the station where you will begin your re-integration. In the meantime, your custody has been given, per your lawyer's recommendations, to Miss Himeno Fumi and her Orphanage, who will receive one of your remotes for her and her charges' protection. Understand that any unlawful excesses will bring you right back in this room, and that this court will not show you this exceptional leniency ever again. Case closed, court dismissed."
And the judge stood from the bench and left the courtroom to take a break until the next case, and the very small crowd of bored-looking witnesses picked up their things to leave. Her lawyer, who had stood stoically near her until now, bent down and reached forward to hug her, but suddenly thought better (good, had thought Natsuki at the time) and simply put a hand on her shoulder.
"Natsuki, I'm… I'm sorry I couldn't do more…"
And the little girl moved harshly to shove the offending hand away, then crossed her arms and huffed with a sneer. "Whatever."
The officers took her away, their special-issue firearms having been returned to their holsters, but still within easy reach. And, despite the woman calling her name with a voice tinted with guilt at her own impotence, Natsuki did not look back.
-
Pressing her back further against the cool stones that framed the furo, the girl sighed and looked up at the white Victorian-style ceiling. It had been a while since something had made her remember that, the last moment she had spent without that thrice-damned collar hanging around her neck like a noose or a proverbial sword of Damocles.
Back then, Natsuki hadn't felt grateful at all for the woman and the uninvited help she gave. She had told herself that she was a tough girl, that she could handle whatever they would decide to throw at her, and that she didn't need help from someone like her. She hadn't asked for any help, but had gotten it anyway, on that woman's own undeniably stubborn decision. Now that Natsuki knew what she had avoided, however, she felt like going back in time and smacking some sense into her ingrate younger self.
Her life certainly wasn't so bad; the Himeno Koujin was a very nice place, spacious despite being the home of a dozen girls between the ages of ten and seventeen. She had been surprised, at first, to find how fancy it was; she had expected it to be a dull, grey, dreary place led by stone-faced matrons and where kids were all forced to wear the same uniform all the time like she had seen on TV. She had been pleasantly surprised to find it to be very free-minded, richly colored and furnished in a style she had heard being described as 'Victorian' (whatever that meant). And the only matron, Himeno Fumi, or Fumi-obaachan as she wanted to be called, was a gentle, lovable woman; as the rumors went, she had been left barren by something in her past, who had decided to use her important inherited wealth to build her Orphanage and take care of abandoned children.
Well, that was the believable story; the ten years old Imai twins still preferred to believe and spread around the rumor that she was an Alien who wanted to study young humans in their natural habitats. It didn't help that Fumi-obaachan found it amusing and actually encouraged them.
She sighed again, watching as wisps of steam twisted and spun with the otherwise invisible passage of her breath. At first, she had resented living in the Himeno Koujin; she had been aggressive and snappish to the other kids, had botched or simply ignored her chores, had done everything to push everyone away and, for the most part, had managed to isolate herself in her bubble.
For the most part. Two people had never stopped trying to bring her out of her shell, and had ultimately been victorious it after a full year of effort: Fumi-obaachan and the only other HiME in the house, Shizuru. Especially the latter; even back then, Natsuki had been able to feel a kindred spirit in the red-eyed Kyotoite, something that went beyond their merely being HiMEs.
Frowning in irritation as her mind continued to wander, she kicked her foot out of the water, pulling it rapidly under as the humid air seemed to suck all the warmth out of her skin. And talking about her skin, her fingers were starting to prune…
She sighed for a third time. "Time to face the music, I guess…"
She rose out of the bath, dripping water as she headed for her bath bucket for the mercifully dry towel. She did not notice her fingers softly caressing the only indentation in the smooth plastic surface of the collar around her neck, a Logo she knew so well she could have drawn nearly perfectly even if she had never seen it before.
Four lines, sharply angled and pointed to form an open four-pointed star, framing a single name.
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Glearcorp Inc.
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My∞HiME
Book 1
Fresco
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Disclaimer: I probably own something, I suppose, but Mai HiME isn't it.
Special thanks to my beta, Sebastian Palm!
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Chapter 5: Ash Grey
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"Why are we going there again?"
Tanaka Yuuki sighed and would have run a hand through his hair had he not been driving the patrol car into a curve. This was the seventh time she had asked this question since he had picked her up from the Orphanage. Based on her track record, he was tempted to believe she was doing it to annoy him, but his detective instincts were telling him otherwise. The tension around her was palpable; something about their situation was making her very nervous.
With a sigh, he explained again.
The research lab they were heading towards was the largest that the multibillion, multinational experimental weapon and defensive arms corporation Glearcorp International had in Japan, and the third largest in the world, behind the ones in Seattle and Berlin. The exact research involved inside the facility itself was a secret not even Eriko and the research bunnies had managed to extirpate from under the carpet, but the list of the products released by the company was enough to give a fairly clear idea of what it could be.
The company specialized in high-technology weaponry or defensive mechanisms meant to be used against Photon-based life-forms, although it also produced a few related products on the side. In layman's terms, it produced Orphan-busting weapons. Yuuki had been quite surprised to find out that the rifle Kumaji had handed him was one of Glearcorp's creations.
This sphere of research, however, made the older Tetsuo brother's employment inside the facility, even as a janitor, to be highly suspicious. A thief using Orphans working inside a facility researching the same creatures? It was too much of a coincidence for the Chief, or indeed Yuuki himself, to ignore. And thus, the Chief had used all of her political weight into giving them access to the facility, or at least the relevant parts of it. Needless to say, it was granted; no one wanted to argue with Chief Akitori for longer than strictly necessary.
"At the very least, think of what the chief would do to us if we didn't go after she made the effort of granting us a way in," Yuuki finished ominously. The little girl made a distant noise, not moving from how she'd been sitting for the last twenty minutes, looking outside with her right hand playing with something under her hair; most likely that weird collar of hers.
Then, after about six minutes of radio-filled silence – "Still no explanation have been given for the unusual string of Orphan attacks that has plagued the ward of Minato for the last few days, nor have the authorities spoken up as to whether or not it was a mere coincidence…"—she spoke again.
"…do we really have to go?"
This time, he didn't bother answering.
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--Saturday, August 10th, 1996, 9:23 AM--
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The sight of First class detective Kumaji Keitaro scowling irritably with his broad and mustached face, while opening one of the back doors of his white and black squad car would have made most people hesitate, or at least feel a tad nervous. Under no circumstances would a normal person felt happy and eager to get inside, or jump on the seat with a light bounce and a wide grin.
This showed to prove that Kuga Natsuki, ten years old, had left 'normal' far enough behind her for it to cough at her dust.
Of course, the main reason for this discrepancy was that whereas a normal person would have been afraid of what would be waiting for them at the end of the trip, young Natsuki was actually looking forward to it. After all, if everything went well, this would be the first day of the rest of her youth, a youth without any paperwork to bore her to tears or damned pen-pushers looking down at her like she was some kind of dangerous disease-carrying parasite.
Her seatbelt was already buckled by the short time Kumaji took to walk around the patrol car to the driver seat and open the door. By the time he was secured and the key was in the ignition, the little girl was bouncing on her seat, something that drew a gruff sneer from the much older and jaded officer.
"Allright, let's set a few ground rules first," he told her, and she froze, her face taking on a childishly serious air. "Active police work is dangerous and difficult, and if you cause any kind of trouble to me, you'll go back to working with the folks in administration. We're trying something here, but if you can't do it, we'll send you back somewhere you can't cause any damage. Understood?"
The little girl nodded, sitting very still suddenly. He made a gruff snort.
"First," he said, raising one finger, "You do what I ask you to. No questions, no complaints, and any disobedience and you'll wake up in your bed after a long nap." He patted the remote, partly visible in his chest pocket, for emphasis. She nodded hesitatingly with a nervous pat at the collar around her neck.
"Second, I call the shots. You don't come anywhere near the crime scene, you don't touch a thing, you don't even do so much as breathe without my permission. You can breathe, by the way," he added after she childishly made a show of taking a deep breath and holding it.
"And third, I want you to learn," he finished, raising a third finger. "If, and I say IF, this situation repeats itself, I want you to make yourself useful as quickly as possible. In other words, you watch what I do, try to follow the way I think, and you try to make your own version of the crime. However, you don't act on it unless I tell you to, and if you think it makes a lot of sense, you share it with me before you try anything. That probably won't matter for a while, at least until you make all the newbie mistakes. Understood?"
"Shut up, sit still and stare. Got it," she said with a nod and a grin.
The gruff officer's scowling face didn't change. Natsuki's grin faded.
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--Wednesday, May 3rd, 1999, 9:48 AM--
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"And there we are," Yuuki said as he closed the door, Natsuki doing the same, if hesitatingly, only a few seconds later.
The Japanese Glearcorp Research Institute was an impressive and massive building, made of multiple pavilions, at least a dozen floors and, he guessed, quite a few basements, as things went for buildings of this type. The path leading from the high security parking to the front doors was clean, made of large slabs of white concrete and framed by nearly unnoticeable knee-height fences and a perfectly cared for lawn, which the fences served to protect from being trampled by employees more than anything. The institute was built on a gigantic plot of land, by Tokyoite standards, which easily measured a hundred and fifty meters across. Add to it the immaculate state of the building itself, from the grey walls to the large silver-on-gold "Glearcorp Inc." logo cast directly into the concrete, and its location, west of Minato-ku and about as close to Tokyo proper as could be, and it made Yuuki whistle from the sheer cost of it all.
If a company had this much money to frivolously spend on sugar-coating an extreme-security facility like this one, how much could it be worth? Certainly mowing and caring for that lawn alone was worth a pretty penny. Producing anti-Orphan weapons must be a lot more profitable than he had thought, though he suspected political foul play being at work somewhere.
A small flight of stairs, with no other discernable purpose than further embellishment, led to an eight meters deep deck bearing nothing but a pair of somewhat uncomfortable benches and small trash cans. While this gave it the appearance of a smoking area for the employees, Yuuki, as he and Natsuki walked between the tall walls that framed the deck, noticed the no-smoking sign and the two cameras on the far end, near the front doors. There was also a notable lack of cigarette butts on the immaculate ground. This had to be yet another security system. Why they would bother to make a front door so easy to barricade, however, was beyond him.
Then, they walked through one of the four sets of front doors, and entered the entrance lobby.
'Wow, the architect of this place must have had a field day,' was Yuuki's first thought. The second was that the place was positively huge. And the third was that it was definitely, in many ways, strange.
The room was mostly square, about thirty meters across and mostly devoid of anything of interest. There wasn't a seat in sight for people to sit on, which, considering the state of security the building was under, was very easily explainable. The walls were made of large stone slabs, thick and sturdy enough to require high explosives to nudge, never mind punch through, and so perfectly flat that the room, despite its relatively small dimensions, enjoyed a pronounced echo. The middle of the ceiling immediately caught his eyes, though; there was a huge, circular skylight through it, piercing through the regular-height ceiling of the lobby and the dozen or so floors above in a series of circular balconies to reach a dome-like window through the roof.
More impressive and puzzling than the obvious security issue the window caused, though, was the very large blue-teal glass crystal, shaped like yet another four-pointed star, that hung vertically somewhere between the second and third floors, held in place by ugly black cables. The thing probably weighed nearly a ton; it was about four meters tall for three wide, and Yuuki strongly wondered why a top-secret research facility would have bothered with a purposeless frivolity like that.
The floor was mostly featureless, except for the design on it; It was the same sign that hung over the door, the Glearcorp Inc. logo, only this one was adorned, two words above the name and two more below, with what appeared to be the company's motto: "Safer World - Better Tomorrow". There was also something strange, which Yuuki almost missed in his initial look-over; there appeared to be circular features carved into the stone slabs of the ground, at regular intervals to form a circle around the logo. What didn't make sense was that, where one of them was supposed to be, and with apparently no regard for symmetry, was a ten meters tall column made of ugly and crackled brown rock intermittently freckled with what appeared to be small green crystals. It was the gaudiest, most tasteless piece of decoration he had ever seen, and didn't seem to accomplish any kind of purpose. Maybe it was some kind of surveillance device?
The receptionist, behind the metal and composite counter on the other end of the room, was quite pretty, in his connoisseur's opinion. What he could see of her figure was quite interesting and enhanced by the somewhat tight blue and white uniform she wore. Her face was attractive and perfect, except for one detail: her glaring almond-shaped eyes were cold as ice. The soul behind those windows was serious, cold, calculating and lived through her work… at least, if he read her right.
Either way, previous experience with her type made him forget about trying anything with her; he was in no hurry to repeat that particular disaster.
"Welcome to Glearcorp," she said stiffly in textbook-perfect polite Japanese. "Tanaka Yuuki, I presume?"
"Ah, yes," he said. "I've got clearance to interrogate a few of Ueda Sunao-san's co-workers—"
"I am aware of that," she cut in while her eyes grew even colder, giving him the impression that he had done some unimaginable sin in her direction. "And she is…"
When she didn't reply, Yuuki glanced behind him. The little brat was standing near the middle of the room, staring at the pillar with a peculiar expression of… well, he recognized disgust, which meant she had at least a modicum of taste, but the rest of it he simply couldn't identify. Bah, no matter. Seeing as no response would be forthright, he turned towards the receptionist with an almost apologetic shrug.
"Kuga Natsuki, my partner… kinda." Damn, but he still felt stupid saying that a thirteen years old brat was his partner.
"Hmph," came from the little girl, who had apparently come back to her senses. Her light footsteps echoed around the room as she approached.
"I'll need you to put your hands on the plate for ID," the receptionist announced, pointing at a small square flat device on her desk. Yuuki went first, and whistled in surprise when multiple laser beams went and scanned each of his fingers. There was a sound from the computer, and the woman nodded, apparently satisfied. The little girl went next, and as she put her hand on it, Yuuki blinked and spared himself an internal whistle in realization that this place had access to the national information databank, something even the police had only a carefully monitored access to.
The lasers ran over the little girl's fingerprints, and the computer rang a sound. This time, however, the woman frowned. Her stare, directed at Kuga, grew even colder, something he hadn't believed could be possible, as she said:
"Kuga-san, because of the experimental and sensitive nature of our research, HiMEs are not allowed within this facility. I'm afraid I must ask you to leave immediately."
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--Saturday, August 10th, 1996, 9:42 AM--
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Natsuki fidgeted.
No, that wasn't quite right. Natsuki was past the point of fidgeting. She was also past the point of glancing at the passing scenery, past the point of mentally humming songs, and well into the point of wondering if she could ask about turning on the radio without ending up hauling paperwork around 'till she was old and grey, or, more importantly, if she could ask about their destination without meeting one or more of such grisly fates.
The patrol car had left the station about twenty minutes ago and had embarked on the highway nearly fifteen minutes later. As a true-born Tokyoite, Natsuki wasn't lost at all. Unfortunately, the arterial nature of the highway made trying to guess where they were going a very difficult task indeed. But that wasn't the biggest problem, in the nine years old bluette's mind. That was the silence that ruled supreme in the car; since he had laid down the rules to her before they left, they hadn't spoken one word, and although his stony, brawn face wasn't exactly the easiest to read she had seen, she could somehow tell he didn't like her much.
She could hazard a guess as to why, though.
Hmph, adults.
The car left the expressway soon afterward, and Natsuki felt a small wave of excited trepidation flow through her as she recognized the general area; it was somewhere she had never gone to personally, but she had heard plenty of stories and rumors about it to make her nine years old mind create some kind of image of that area as a rowdy, dangerous and seedy area, full of armed Yakuza and drunken brawls at every hour of the day.
She was, therefore, a bit disappointed when the police car's parking at the entrance of a pedestrian street didn't end up having dozens of brawny men bearing knives and other weapons giving them dark looks. Except for the preponderance of romaji and plain English signs as opposed to other such commercial areas, the Roppongi she had heard so much about was… remarkably normal. On both sides stood commercial buildings that stood no lower than six or seven stories of height, packed together with ad signs that waited nothing but nighttime to light themselves up, organized in a typically haphazard clutter of things being set on top of one another without a care of what it ultimately looked like. The crowds were thick and noisy, rich with smells and colors, and although most of the people around were obviously Japanese, Natsuki managed to spot more than a dozen foreigners within a minute of entering it, something that would be fairly difficult elsewhere in Tokyo.
Natsuki followed Kumaji's long strides with a quick jog of her much shorter legs, staying in the burly uniform-clad man's wake to avoid getting swallowed by the crowd. She spotted a few curious stares and dutifully ignored them, focusing instead on not losing track of him. It was only thanks to the intense attention she'd been giving him that she didn't ram right into him when he suddenly stopped.
"We're here," he told her, and she looked. They had stopped in front of a small nameless restaurant whose vocation was told plainly by the sign emblazoned by a steaming coffee cup, hanging over the privacy curtain used as an traditional-styled entrance (though ancient entrances didn't have metal doors with fly screens behind said curtains), itself tightly stuck between two staircases in a way that made it nearly impossible to spot. He gave her a look she couldn't read, a kind of disapproving frown, and then walked in, leaving her behind to follow and wonder what it meant.
Why was he mad at her? She hadn't spoken, she hadn't gotten in his way (hadn't had time to, anyway!)… hell, she didn't even know what they were doing in this place to begin with. Maybe that was it? Maybe she was supposed to somehow guess? Maybe it was a test?
Had he given any kind of hint? Not as far as she could remember—
Her mind de-railed as she stepped into the restaurant. It was not because of its appearance, for it looked like just about any other coffee shop. Nor was it the smell, as the strong smell of coffee beans mixed together in a pleasant way. Nor was it because of the people, since, except for them, the only person inside was the owner, a tall, bony man with notable sideburns whose pleasant demeanor soured into annoyance as soon as he saw them.
It was because of the heat. The place was warm, almost uncomfortably so, and when contrasted to the chilly autumnal weather they were having, the result was a wave of hot air that seemed almost unbearable. She started fanning herself with her shirt, wishing she hadn't worn her warmest hoodie today.
"This again? I told you already, I don't know what happened to her!" the owner erupted.
Kumaji seemed totally unbothered by the heat, or by the man's hostility. "Oh yes, I remember your statement very well. Only, I happened to be going around the neighborhood, and I decided to come and see if time had jostled anything in your memory, seeing as this is the last place she was reported as being seen at."
Her? She? Who were they talking about? Maybe someone famous ate here recently?
Something told her that wasn't it, although she wasn't sure what. Maybe it was the tone they were talking into? Statement? Being seen?
'Ahh, I see.' The man was a witness for some missing person's case, a girl or woman. That had to be it. So a detective usually went and regularly returned to witnesses to get new leads. That made sense. She noted it down mentally, proud of herself. But why was it so damn hot in here?
She looked around. She had never been in a coffee house before, but she guessed it must have been similar to every other such places in the city; the walls were beige and adorned with dozens of black and white pictures, and a handful of color ones. The wooden floor was clean and matched with the walls and tables, themselves cozy and welcoming. Behind the owner's register was what she supposed was a menu, but the fact that the writing was all in English made it impossible for her to read it; did he expect all of his clients to have perfect English or something?
She could hear and feel a peculiar rumble in the air and floor, as if something large and metallic was vibrating somewhere in the basement; it wasn't anything terrible, though. All and all, it would have been a very decent place to eat at, had it not been for the heat.
"Well I don't remember anything more," the man replied stubbornly.
"I see. Too bad. And I see your… Frigophobia hasn't gotten any better."
Frigowhat? And why did Kumaji sound like he didn't believe it in the first place? Damnit, if only she could ask questions…
"Ah… yes, well… winter is coming, after all," he replied. There was something uncomfortable in his voice, but she didn't pay it any mind; of course he'd be uncomfortable, in this heat… anyone would.
And about that, Kumaji hadn't forbidden her from removing her hoodie, had he? Good. The hands that had been busy fanning her body released the t-shirt she wore underneath to grasp the much heavier cotton piece and pull it off. Her shirt followed just a bit, just enough to reveal the flame-shaped mark on her flank.
"She's a HiME?!" And it hadn't been missed by the shop's owner.
"Yes she is. Is there something wrong with that?"
"There is! We have a strict no-HiME policy, and it's well within my rights to ask you to get her out of here before some Orphan comes and wrecks years of hard work!"
She scowled. That's a myth! Nothing but lousy superstition spread by idiots who don't know what they're talking about, was what she wanted to say, but Kumaji's words remained in her mind and she kept quiet. Great, she'd have to sit this one in the car, it seemed—
"Well I'm afraid you'll have to make an exception for her."
"And why should I?!"
"Because she's my partner."
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--Wednesday, May 3rd, 1999, 9:55 AM--
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"I'm afraid I must ask you to leave immediately."
Natsuki glared at the woman, who glared back with pursed lips, as if she was looking at something revolting littering in her personal space. She thought she could just tell her to leave like that? Hah! Who did she think she was? What did she think her company was? Sure, officers (and that included her, this time) had to respect safety procedures and regulations whenever they went in a place like this, but refusing her access simply because of what she was couldn't be right. It was discri…discrimin… unfair, and there was no way it was going to—
"I see. Kuga, go back in the car."
…happen—say what?!
She stared in disbelief. Just like that? He was just shoving her back in the car like that? Letting them just walk on top of them, of the police, of her and of every HiME like that?
Hmph, well obviously. Here he was given a chance to get rid of her on a golden platter. Of course he was going to take it, the total bastard. He couldn't possibly understand what this facility meant for her. Yeah, so it scared the hell out of her? Some part of her wanted to see it, to see the people responsible for that deadly little piece of plastic around her neck.
Disbelief turned into a simmering anger. She stomped her way to the doors, her slight weight clapping her running shoes against the boring tiles of the ground and doing little more than pinching her feet, and pushed them open. She shot a glare at her so-called partner's back, absolutely certain of one thing.
Kumaji would have never pushed her away like that.
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As he heard the door close behind his partner, Yuuki allowed himself a relieved sigh. With the number of times she had asked about it, it was obvious she hadn't wanted to be anywhere near this place in particular (he still wondered why, though, but figured it had something to do with her being a little girl and boring laboratories with nothing to play with – kids, go figure), and he hadn't been looking forward to spending the next few hours interrogating people while having to corral her around like a wolf on a leash.
A top-secret weapon research facility was the last place he felt comfortable bringing a child her age into.
Still, he wasn't sufficiently dishonest with himself to be unaware of his own selfish designs; just once, being able to work away from her for a few hours at work would do wonders for his patience.
The receptionist gave him a curt nod and a printed note on which simple directions were written.
"You may proceed. These are the directions toward director of maintenance Takeda Wataru-san. You are cleared for level 0 areas only, but Wataru-san may lead you to any areas he himself is cleared for, so long as he is given a sufficiently good reason. Welcome to glearcorp."
And the inches-thick doors at the side of her desk slid open with a pneumatic sound and the rumble of something massive running on rolling balls. It certainly didn't feel like a welcome.
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The facility was honestly dreary. Uniform white hallways lit in a likewise fashion by covered fluorescent tubes, and the occasional door marked either with numbers or with friendly inscriptions such as "Authorized Personnel Only" and "High-danger Area" were the only things he saw as he followed the directions. The few people he had crossed along the way were all dressed in lab coats, some leaded, some not, and while the great majority of them was silent, few of them went in groups…
"I'm not sure where we could get the samples from, but your theory has merits, I'll talk to the director about it. It doesn't explain why they only suddenly started to appear fifty years ago though, or why they can have children with humans."
"Snowball effect. One of them was born, and her presence caused the gene—" the doors closed behind them.
…but their conversations were impossible to follow for him. He didn't cross a single security guard, but saw a few security cameras scattered around strategically. He also found himself crossing an abnormal number of open safety hatches, which appeared wastefully thick if their only purpose was to stop a fire or a gas from spreading around. Which, considering what this facility did, it probably wasn't.
In sharp contrast, however, the office of the maintenance department's director, as well as the director himself, told of good humor and friendliness, while maintaining a sense of order and cleanness. The cloud-covered sunlight pouring through both inches-thick windows (most likely a directional perk) was partially absorbed by the pair of healthy plants hanging from the ceiling. The desk's synthetic surface was perfectly clean, except for the small pile of documents next to the computer flat-screen and the empty teacup on the other end ("'cuz some people can't be bothered," was written on it).
Takeda-san himself was much the same way. The tux he was wearing fit him perfectly, or probably would have had the top two buttons not been left undone and the necktie left tangling from the top of the computer's screen. His impeccable hair topped a tired face on which the pleasant smile he was adorning looked right at home, and while Yuuki knew one couldn't hold a position like this one without having worked for a long time, the man sitting in front of him didn't look like he was even in his forties.
"Ah, you're the police officer I was told about, aren't you?" he said a mere moment after the Kansaijin officer entered his office. and raised an eyebrow when the door closed behind him. "I was told there was supposed to be two of you, though?"
"She—I mean, my partner preferred to stay in the car," he replied semi-smoothly. It was kind-of the truth, anyway. "She's caught a little something."
"Is that so? Well, that's too bad. I hope she'll feel better soon, then."
"Thank you." Seemed like the correct thing to say, at least.
"Now, you're here about… uh…" The director glanced at his papers, then at his screen, and Yuuki took this as his cue.
"Ueda Sunao, one of the workers under your direction… though that's about all we know."
A wry grin came on the man's face. "Ah yes, him. Hiding the nature of a janitor's job even from the police, that certainly sounds like something our company would do!" he sounded more amused than proud or embarrassed, though. Apparently, unless it affected him directly, everything seemed to be a joke to this man. Yuuki couldn't stop himself from replying that infection smile with his own, though. "Yes, I know him. He hasn't come to work in about a week, it's been driving his manager up the wall."
Mentally noting down what he'd just learned, Yuuki asked, "How would you describe him?"
One of the director's fingers went up and started rubbing his shaved chin as his eyes thoughtfully found the computer screen. "Bit of a weirdo at times, immature… The kind of worker whom you wouldn't be surprised to find riding a scooter in the service tunnels, if you see what I mean," at Yuuki's patient nod, he continued, "still, he was mostly a good worker, and never complained about anything he was told to do. His immediate superior didn't report anything bad, either, but… can I ask a question?"
"Hm? Go ahead."
"Why is the police interested in him? I mean… did something happen to him? "
For a moment, Yuuki weighed the pros and cons of telling the man what was a closely kept secret. Yes, no one was supposed to know that a bunch of thieves had apparently acquired the ability to control Orphans for their own gain, but the man certainly seemed like a nice, reasonable fellow…
Then he thought about how the boss would react when she'd learn he had released police secrets to civilians related to the case.
…"Well, he certainly looked like a nice guy, boss! I never would have guessed he'd blab to the international news about it! Yes, so our criminals fled to Hong Kong. On the bright side, they won't be bothering us anymore—"
...-BANG-
Then he thought about how the boss would react when she'd learn he had come back practically empty-handed.
…"Ah, sorry boss, but it looks like you did all that work for nothing. No harm done, right? I mean, you like terrifying everyone you talk to anyway—"
…-BANG-
He shuddered, now knowing what it meant to be between a rock and a wall of rusty, tetanus-filled spikes.
Oh well. At least one solution gave him at least a bit of a chance of seeing tomorrow's sun from his apartment window.
"Only if you stay very quiet about it," he replied with his most threatening voice. If the man in front of him was impressed, it didn't show. Nonetheless, he solemnly swore, with his right hand over his heart and his left arm raised to the heavens,
"Put the flame on my daughters."
Yuuki gave an uneasy smile, more certain than ever that leaving Kuga behind had been a good idea. Still, it seemed honest enough, and with a bit of apprehension, Yuuki sealed his fate and explained the general details of the case, making sure to keep as much as possible out of the story. The man's smiling face turned first into horrified astonishment, then consternation, until finally Yuuki had finished.
"I… see," was what the man replied. "I… I had no… I…" he sighed, then frowned thoughtfully and stared at Yuuki right into his eyes. "I can see why you spent so much effort getting here, then. For someone involved in something like that to be working in a research facility like this one… but I'm afraid you're on the wrong trail."
"How so?" did he know anything after all? Or was it—
"To be blunt, officer, Ueda-san was… an idiot. Oh, he was a good worker, and he never complained, but I don't know if he even understood this facility works with anti-Orphan weapons. I doubt he'd be able to tell you how to find the area of a circle, never mind knowing anything about Solid Photon Physics."
"It doesn't change the facts that he worked here," Yuuki said. "If he's not the one controlling the Orphans, then it must be one of his partners. Did he have any friends or connections here?"
"Hm…" the director frowned thoughtfully. One of his hands brought a partially chewed pen to his teeth. Finally, he gave a small nod. "I… I think I have seen him with someone else before… yes, at the lunch room, he was talking with… what's his name… I forgot, but he's one of the assistants of a friend of mine—…"
Hearing the awkward pause, Yuuki asked, "Is something wrong?"
"No… well, I'm just wondering if I should…" he frowned, then glanced at something in his computer screen. Finally, he sighed and shrugged. "Well, I was asked to answer any questions you might have, and technically taking you to him is part of answering them, so…" a grin appeared on his face, "and if I get into trouble for that, I'll at least have the consolation of knowing it was for a good cause this time! Here, follow me."
-
And he did. The director guided him through a handful of confusing corridors with an ease that quite literally dazzled the confused kansaijin officer. Their destination was beyond a sliding door bearing the inscription of "C-L-09", and turned out to be a fairly normal, if a bit dark, office. That is, with the exception of the blackboard that covered well over half of the left wall, which was itself covered from corner to corner with quantum physics equations that gave him a headache just looking at them. In the far corner, facing the right wall, was a desk that would have been spacious had every square inch of its surface not been covered with documents and loose piles of papers, as well as the occasional open book and electronic notepad.
Sitting in the desk's chair was a squat man, a bit round around the belly perhaps, with long graying hair tied in a ponytail, was talking in the phone, apparently so engrossed by the conversation he was having and by what he was looking at on his computer that he simply hadn't noticed the maintenance director and the police officer entering his office.
"…yes, I--… yes… Like I said, I was very impressed by what you wrote, Sa---er, Saotome-san, and I'd be honored if--… you will? Oh thank you so m--… of course… yes… we can discuss…" the man turned to look at the papers at his right, apparently to find one where he could note something down, and finally spotted the two men at the entrance. His eyes froze over Yuuki's uniform, and it took a few seconds before he started to speak again, "Ah… Saotome-san? It looks like we'll have to continue this conversation later… yes… thank you. And thank you again for accepting, I'll call you back later."
And he stood immediately after hanging up, giving a respectful bow at Yuuki. "What can I do for you, officer?"
"Detective," Yuuki corrected, then raised an eyebrow at his guide, "and I'm wondering that myself."
"Ah…" Takeda-san noised, then cleared his throat and spoke, "Tanaka-san, this is Dr. Morigawa Hiro, one of the key brains in this here facility."
"You're exaggerating a bit, Wataru-kun," the scientist said with an embarrassed but immodest grin. "It'd say it's a pleasure to meet you, but seeing as I don't know why you're here for…"
"I thought he'd be interested to know about your assistant… uh… what—"
The scientist's grin vanished under a veil of gloom. "Tokiichi-kun."
"Who?" Yuuki repeated around the cap of his pen, while writing in his notebook.
"Tokiichi Konishi, my assistant. Though seeing as he hasn't given a sign of life in the last six days, ex-assistant is more accurate."
"Koni…shi… I see. Six days, you say?" That would have been last Friday, one day before he'd started working and met Kuga, and two days before the first attack. Convenient timing.
"That's also the last day I've seen Ueda-san, by the way," Takeda-san put in. "And I've seen those two eat together in the cafeteria a few times, now."
"Oh, so he's investigating on my wayward assistant's disappearance?"
"Well, not exac—" "Yes, exactly," Yuuki cut in. No need to break the secret to the whole city. "He, Ueda-san and his brother disappeared, and I'm the one tasked with finding them." The look Takeda-san shot his way was one of apologetic understanding.
"I see," said Dr. Morigawa. "I'm afraid I don't know where he's been; like I said, he hasn't shown up here in a while—see here?" he pointed at his desk, "I don't have time to do the cleaning, he usually did it… same thing here," he pointed at the blackboard, "every time I start cleaning it, I get distracted with some idea and end up adding even more things on it. I've already requested his dismissal—in fact, I was talking to his replacement just now."
"You… used him for petty cleaning?" was all Yuuki had to say. The older man nodded with a sniff.
"Yes, well… he was very good at that. Not at the rest of it, though. If I'd have to qualify him as something, it's 'book smart'. He's the kind of guy who made it though university by knowing all his lessons by heart, without remembering much of the theory behind it. Brilliant at bringing up facts that are already known, certainly, but not at coming up with anything new. He should have aimed to become an engineer, not a researcher." A grin appeared on his face, "in fact, he has this strange theory about Orphans. He apparently believes they are beings from another dimension, who appear and go berserk whenever they can't find a HiME to link to. Can you believe that?"
Yuuki could only shrug while the scientist chuckled; it made as much sense as anything else to him. Still, even as he listened, his suspicion grew into steel-solid certainty.
-
He'd eat his badge if Tokiichi Konishi wasn't 'dr. Evil'.
-
-------------
-
--Saturday, August 10th, 1996, 9:55 AM--
-
"Because she's my partner," first class detective Kumaji replied, to Natsuki's surprise at the honesty in his voice, "and if you still want to kick her out of here, then I'll have you arrested for obstruction of justice. I'm sure you wouldn't want that, right?"
"Obstruct—Why I ne—I'm—Do you know who I—"
"Kuga." Kumaji cut through the man's irate stammering, and she straightened out in response. "Your Child is some kind of wolf, isn't it?"
Huh? "Ah… ye—I mean, yes sir," she replied, feeling mental rust screech at the rarely used politeness she'd just spoken with.
"Does it have a good sense of smell?"
Huh? Where was he going with that? "Ah… yes." To be honest, she didn't know, but there was something inside her that told her that yes, Durhan did. Like a lot of what she knew about him, it seemed like she just knew it.
"Summon it. I need its nose."
"Why—er… I mean, yes sir," better not ask questions, she told herself. Totally confused, Natsuki nonetheless did what she was told. She felt within herself for the power she had only used once before, and found it eager to emerge again. It flooded through her veins like liquid ice without becoming uncomfortable; to the contrary, she found, as summoning the single pistol she could carry in both hands felt a bit like being caressed by a soothing, cool wind in scorching sunlight, or drinking something cold during a summer draught.
It felt… nice. She had never noticed that before.
She hadn't had time to notice it before.
Deeper yet, though, she sought him, her confident, her love, her protector, her Child. And she found him, feeling his loving touch reply to hers. She opened her mouth to speak his name, but froze as fear crossed through her mind, along with memories of the last time he'd been summoned.
"Your Child only wants to protect you. He loves you more than anything else, and will do anything for you. Never be scared of him; he will sense it and won't realize that he's the one scaring you if there's anything he finds remotely threatening around—especially people."
Steeling herself, Natsuki drew a deep breath and called him forth.
"DURHAN!"
And in an explosion of ice, he was there, metal claws clicking against the wooden floor. She shuddered a bit at the strangeness of his inhuman mind connecting to hers, of his alien thoughts crossing into hers but only for a second, for he pulled away as soon as he felt her discomfort.
An indescribable feeling flowed through the strange link, something so utterly foreign that she nearly pushed it away in disgust and fear. But she didn't, focusing on it instead. It felt… protective. Loving.
Dangerous.
It came once more, this time with a sense of urgency, and only then did she notice her eyes were still closed. She opened them and saw the way her Child was staring at the two adults looking her way, as if he was just waiting for one of them to move before ripping them to pieces; Kumaji, she noticed, had discretely pulled out the remote, and had a thumb hovering one of the buttons.
It came to her then. He thought they were a threat to her!
"Durhan, stop!"
Her Child turned his chromed head towards her, and although no eyes were visible in the sunken holes in his face, she knew he was looking at her. Another alien feeling flowed through her; amidst the strange inhuman feelings, she picked up something that felt like… confusion? Puzzlement?
Was it his way of asking a question?
"Got control over it yet, Kuga?" Kumaji growled.
"Ah… yes," she replied, sending a 'calm down!' down her link. Another puzzled reply came to her; he was apparently just as confused by her as she was by him.
"Well then, tell him to look for this smell," he said, pulling out a sealed plastic bag from his pocket. Inside it was a bundled up T-shirt, pink and white. The coffee shop's owner immediately erupted.
"That again? How many people do you think talk in front of this place? Do you really thing even a freak's monster can find a trail like that?"
While they talked, Natsuki did her best to focus on how to obey Kumaji. Durhan didn't seem to be able to understand her commands, so how could she go and ask him something as complicated as "Smell this and search"? Would his sense of smell be good enough to search in the Roppongi crowd, especially if it wasn't fresh? She hoped so; her immediate future depended on it!
Durhan seemed to sense her worry and urgency, and even if he didn't understand why, he sent something down their link, something that felt like a strange inner warmth, like how she had felt that one time Fumi-baba had gotten through her defenses and hugged her.
He was… comforting her?
But then, if he could do that…
She closed her eyes and focused on what he was making her feel. She took that love and comfort, and sent it back his way. Her reply was a surge of… happiness? Something that felt joyful, at least, and she felt her lips move in a smile on their own volition.
It took a few tries, but she managed to instruct Durhan on the meaning of "smell". "Search" was a bit harder, but it eventually worked out. All the while, Natsuki kept shooting glances at Kumaji, whose stony behavior didn't change at all, and at the coffee shop owner who kept alternating between looking nervous and shooting hateful glares at her and her Child.
"We're ready," she finally said. Kumaji only nodded and, after carefully kneeling in front of Durhan like one would a tamed lion, opened the bag under his nose.
'Smell, search,' she sent. A feeling she had come to realize was an acknowledgement floated from him, and she felt confident he knew what to do as he put his snout to the ground. An uncomfortable feeling came from him then, along with an overpowering smell of coffee, which felt strange indeed inside her own head.
'No wonder he wanted to use Durhan,' she thought, sending a wave of comfort at her Child, 'a normal dog would have never wanted to continue searching after smelling that.'
"Can it smell through the coffee?" Kumaji asked. Natsuki nodded.
"Barely, but can—" A wave of… joy? triumph? interrupted her words, as Durhan sniffed at one of the chairs at the bar. "I… I think he's got it."
Kumaji nodded and, for the first time since she'd met him, she saw him smile. The shop owner, on the other hand, was that of shock, which turned into consternation when Durhan started following the trail toward the back room. Natsuki blinked in confusion; why would the missing woman go over there? She'd disappeared in the streets, hadn't she? Why would…
The answer came to her then, and she felt like slapping herself for a second. It was obvious.
She'd gone to the bathroom.
But Durhan continued to follow the trail past the toilets, toward the stairs leading down. The stairs were dark and dusty, and the heat that was uncomfortable in the dining room became downright unbearable; it was like they led down to the gates of hell. The rumbling sound from before was much louder here, and she recognized it now as a gas heater going full force.
'Certain?' she asked Durhan. He replied with a very clear smell of sweat and vanilla, as a way of showing her that yes, the trail was easy to follow, and while he didn't pick up on it, there was another smell there, something that drew an instinctive shudder deep inside herself.
Fear?
"A-Allright, that's enough—An Orphan might—I'll complain about harassment, my cousin will—get that thing out of my store!" the store owner screeched.
Why, though? Why had the missing woman gone downstairs? Why had she been scared? Why was the owner only protesting about Durhan now?
Was he trying to stop them?
It clicked then, and Natsuki's eyes thinned into angry slits.
It wasn't a missing person case.
It was kidnapping.
She resisted the urge to glare at the store owner, whose nervousness she could now tell was fear at being found out. Something, some kind of instinct, was telling her his most obvious reaction would be to run away, and thus what she should do was to move and block his way. She was more powerful than he was, but he was physically stronger, and would be able to shove her aside easily enough. The only way she could stop him, therefore, was to get him from a distance.
A plan drew itself in her mind, basic and simple. She theatrically slapped her hands over her pants pockets and opened her mouth in a wide "o".
"I forgot…" whoops, first snag, "…er, something in my shirt!" Right, maybe this wasn't going so well.
"Can it wait?" Kumaji growled. She knew he was seeing right through her, though.
"Uh…" ok, think Natsuki, think! "I… uh… someone might steal it!" Real smooth.
"Hmph. Well, we don't need you anymore, so long as your Child doesn't go insane when you're gone," Kumaji replied, ignoring the way the store owner squeaked in fear. "Go get it."
"O-Officer?!"
"Thanks. Durhan, keep following the trail, and try not to bust the building down," she said, while telling him 'search' with a reassuring mental pat.
"Gwah?!"
"I'll be right back!"
"W-W…" she ignored him and left up the stairs.
To her surprise, as soon as he was out of her sight, Durhan opened up his side of the connection to let her in on what he was seeing and understanding. As she headed to the front of the store to wait for the panicking man, who was no doubt only staying with Kumaji in vain hopes that Durhan wouldn't find his victim after all, she had the most unsettling feeling of sensing her partner following 'her', a few feet behind her metal 'tail', of hearing sounds so low and high that her brain hurt trying to understand them, and at smelling a ground that suddenly revealed a lot more than dust.
Durhan finally stopped in front of a door that stunk strongly of terror and pain. Natsuki was forced to swallow her own bile as her body reacted to it. Kumaji spoke; she heard his voice, knew he said syllables, but through Durhan's inhuman perceptions she was completely unable to understand what he said. The owner spoke again, nervously, apologetically, and the smell of fear that surrounded him only grew stronger. Kumaji spoke again, and the fear grew into outright terror.
Then Kumaji stepped back, braced himself and tried to force through the door. Once, twice, three times did his large bulk impact against it, and every time the door shuddered a little more. Natsuki was impressed; she could feel each hit on the soles of her shoes.
'Assistance?' the message came from Durhan, as a mental picture of himself ramming his cannons into the door. She nodded.
'Don't scare Kumaji,' she tried to send, but his confusion told her she'd been too precise. She simplified with a mental picture of gently moving her partner aside and helping, which he understood and complied. Kumaji looked uncertain, but moved aside anyway, and Durhan got ready to attack the door.
'Chrome Cartridge?' he asked. Something told her this was a bad idea.
'NO!' she replied, with probably too much strength; the ashamed apology he sent in return made her feel a bit guilty. 'Gently,' she ordered.
He understood, to her surprise, and after taking a few steps back, he carefully aimed his right cannon at the door handle and leapt forward—
The door gave way with a deafening crack, and the rumbling sound of the gas heater going at full power suddenly seemed to grow tenfold. The room beyond was in complete darkness, but Durhan's inhuman eyes adapted to it faster than Natsuki's brain could catch up and—
…and suddenly, she was standing in front of the door, fists tightly clenched around her guns as a wave of rage from her Child crashed through her whole body. Durhan had, for some reason, cut off the link. And, down the hallway in front of her, the sound of someone running frantically flew to her ears. Within a few seconds, the panicked store owner erupted from the stairs and ran straight toward the door. Unfortunately for him, she had been ready.
-Pshling, pshling!-
Two freezing cold concussion bolts impacted against his kneecaps, and with a shrill yelp, he collapsed, just as Durhan came up behind him. The face the man made when Durhan's metallic paw thumped on the floor right next to his head had been priceless. Kumaji had later came up himself, arrested the man without as much as a glance at Durhan, and told her to use the radio.
"Report a 10-23-B with severe dehydration, and that we need an ambulance," he told her. She gave as good as salute as she could in her excited state, and obeyed with probably too much joy in her voice; she had later found out what a code 83-B entailed, and what she had read in that regulation file she had managed to sneak past the watchful eyes of the station's adults made her wish she had fired quite a bit higher than the man's kneecaps.
Code 10-23-B: illegal detainment with sexual assault.
Fortunately, the victim recovered, although with some help. She didn't have to give her testimony; although the man had diplomatic immunity (from good connections and having a cousin in the American embassy), it did nothing to protect him against his own guilt-ridden confession.
Even now, three years later, she was still not sure whether the "bit higher" was somewhere to make sure he would never be able to do anything like that ever again, or to make sure he would never be able to do anything ever again. She would never forget this case, however. Nor would she ever forget the words Kumaji told her, as soon as he closed the door behind him with the criminal still shuddering on the back seat.
"Good job, Princess."
Of course, then he scolded her for breaking the rules, but she did her best to forget that part. The next morning, she ended up with him again. And the next. And the next.
-
-------------
-
--Wednesday, May 3rd, 1999, 12:03 AM--
"10-4, Tanuki. Sending everything to the research bunnies, they should have something good later today. HQ out."
"10-4," he replied with a sigh at the nickname, and at his partner pouting childishly on the passenger seat. What, had she wanted to come after all? Psh, she was well on her way to be a perfectly normal woman; impossible to understand at her age, he trembled to know what she'd be like in a few years. If she grew that old without her future partner (who would certainly not be him) hitting the red button out of sheer annoyance. He sat down on his seat and closed the door, happy to finally be out of that facility, then revved up the engine. Just as he was about to shift to reverse, Natsuki spoke.
"So?" she asked coldly. He blinked and looked at her in confusion. Was she asking how it had been in there?
With a shrug, he replied, "you'd have been bored."
And her frown turned into a furious glare.
"Of course, and I wasn't bored in here, right?"
She was angry about that? Boy, she really was a kid, wasn't she…
"Look, sorry I didn't leave you the radio or someth—" "SHUT UP!"
Whoa. Ok, that was a bit too extreme to be only about boredom. Ok, back up. Why was she—
He didn't have time to complete that thought; she spoke again. "You were just waiting for that, weren't you?!"
"Waiting for what?"
"For a chance to shove me off! That's all I am to you, right? An annoying little brat who's in your way, useless at anything except killing Orphans!" Well, since she put it that way…
Something about his thoughts must have shown up on his face, because her face twisted in an enraged snarl. "Well you can just FUCK OFF. Fight them on your own and get yourself killed, see if I care!"
And she shoved the door open with all the strength in her small arm, a gun appearing in her other hand as she did.
"DURHAN!"
"Now wait a—" There was an explosion of ice, and the metal wolf was there, glaring angrily at him. Rapidly, Yuuki reached in his pocket.
…nothing.
"Looking for this, I bet," she said, with her collar's remote in her free hand, "You left it on the dashboard, dumbass."
She gave a disgusted sniff and climbed on Durhan's back. Without so much as a nod from her, the wolf's legs vanished and were replaced with propellers, and the little girl sped off faster than he could ever hope to catch up, crossing over the facility's walls before vanishing between the roofs of Meguro. Tanaka Yuuki was left alone in the parking lot, feeling like he had just screwed up something fierce, with a single thought in his mind.
-
The chief was going to kill him for this.
-
-
Akuma-sama's notes:
Sorry about the wait; a combination of the chapter's length, of my muses aggressively making me write other stories, general lack of interest in writing, college and gaming addiction (playing as well as designing) resulted in how long you waited to get this thing.
One year… you guys probably thought I had given up or died. Well I'm not dead! BWAH!
"Put the flame on my daughters". Think about it for a second if you haven't got it already, and you'll know why Natsuki would have been quite pissed to hear it.
