The first thing Akira noticed upon stepping into the safehouse was how cold it was. It was like they forgot to turn on the heater for the place. As he was led deeper inside, away from the windows to the outside world, it only got bleaker. The already drab white plaster gave way to gray metal, making the whole place feel like a bunker.
To be fair, that was probably the intent.
He, along with a small group of other men, was led into what looked like a conference hall. There was a large foldout table in the center, surrounded by foldout chairs, all in the same dull gray. There was a projector on the table, pointed at a sheet of cloth on the wall, but it wasn't on. For now, the spot it was pointing at was reserved for a large, muscular blond man in a US Army uniform. Akira had dealt with US soldiers before, mostly in exercises, and noticed that the insignia marked the man as a colonel. He looked the part, too-intimidating, imposing. He stood as if he owned the room. He held pen in his hands like a cigarette, occasionally putting it to his lips-probably an addict who couldn't get his fix, Akira figured.
When Akira and the other five or six men with him sat down, the colonel nodded, speaking in a deep voice with a slight Southern accent, not pronounced but definitely there. "All right, listen up. You may have been led to believe that this is a Japanese operation with American backup. Let me make this clear, that is not the case. This is an American operation with Japanese backup. Mrs. Isshiki no longer serves Tokyo, she serves Washington. And as long as you're all here, I'm your commanding officer, straight from the Pentagon."
Everyone just nodded. Akira could tell that the others were more resigned to this than anything. Personally, he had nothing wrong with serving under Americans. He just wished that this man didn't have to rub it in their faces.
The man continued. "I am Colonel Alexander Mann. You are to refer to me as Colonel or sir. But I'm sure you all know that basic stuff already. Let me get you on to how it's going to work around here."
He reached into his pocket, pulling out a remote and turning the projector on, stepping out of the way. The cloth now showed a simple titlecard, both in English and Japanese. Operation Deep Chessboard. There were also three photos beneath the operation name, with their real names and apparent codenames underneath them.
In the center, there was a woman in her thirties, with short black hair. Wakaba Isshiki-Red Queen. On the left, an older man in a fomal suit, with a goatee and a hairline that had clearly been gone years ago. Sojiro Sakura-Red Bishop. And stuffed in the right was a teenage girl, with bright, orange hair long enough to give Rapunzel a run for her money. Futaba Sakura-Red Knight. Collectively, the family was referred to as the Red Court.
Mann pointed to Isshiki's photo. "This lady here is researching string theory for us. That's all you get to know about that. The man is her husband, and the kiddo there is her daughter. You defend all three of these people with your lives, but if it comes down to it, save the Queen first, then the Bishop, and the Knight comes last. Just like in chess. Chess names make everything easy, don't they?"
He chuckled to himself, changing the slide to a floorplan of the building, with twelve floors above ground and four below. "Not that it should come down to that. If all goes well, you shouldn't have to even touch your weapons at all. We've split the building into four sectors, each with four floors. Your team gets Sector Bravo. That's Zero-ground floor-to 4-third story. You'll also be escorting the Court on any excursions outside. Groceries, research supplies, heading to base, that sort of thing. Rules of engagement will be handled on a case by case basis for those, but for the most part, you will appear as civilians. Is that understood?"
More nodding. "Good, good. You'll all go meet your new friends, then you'll be given your posts. Let's roll."
When all the guys in military uniforms came into the family's new apartment, Futaba kept her headphones on. There was no audio coming through them-in fact, they weren't even connected to anything. But it made her look distracted, and that kept people away.
Unluckily for her, it didn't last long. She felt a tap on her shoulder and looked up. Sojiro was looking at her. "Come on, now. We have company." His eyes seemed to say please don't make this any harder for me.
Futaba sighed, taking off the headphones and getting up, staying behind Sojiro as she reluctantly approached the military men. Only one of them-a black-haired boy a bit taller than her who was mostly staying quiet-looked her age. Why someone so young?
She shut herself down before she could think of all the horrible reasons there might be someone younger in the group. The age of enlistment was eighteen, it wasn't out of the question. Stop being so paranoid. Just stop. Everyone hates it.
The boy-she couldn't help but think of him as a boy-looked to her. "And you're Futaba. Right?"
Don't freeze. Do not freeze. Paralysis is death. She nodded, not adding any words.
The boy nodded back once. "I'm Akira Kurusu. If I say 'Knight', that's you, and you can call me 'Prisoner'. Can you remember that?"
Prisoner? What kind of a codename is that? She nodded silently again, a little more frantically. Not my business, not my business.
And with that, Akira looked away, seeming to notice her agitation. Futaba sighed in relief, slinking back behind Sojiro.
This wouldn't be too scary, right? She could just stay in the apartment for a while. She wouldn't have to deal with anyone.
Her mother kept talking to the men. "I'll need to make weekly supply runs, for my research. Might need to go to remote places, too. That's alright?"
Futaba didn't even have time to hold her breath before her bubble was burst with Akira saying, "We'll handle escort."
Why are they letting us leave this place? On a weekly basis, even? Do they want us to get shot? They probably want us to get shot. Maybe just me, I'm useless.
She let out a small whimper. Sojiro looked to her-please don't say anything please don't say anything please don't say anything-and then back to the soldiers. She shut her eyes, trying to block the world out, even as she heard them settle on Sundays for trip days.
I'm going to die on Sunday. I'm going to die in a week. Please, God, no, I'm not ready. I'm not ready to go.
Stop it. Breathe. You're supposed to breathe, right? That's what mom said. What she's been saying for years, you dumb, lazy girl. Why don't you ever listen?
She opened her eyes again. For once, the dark wasn't helping, not at all. But with her eyes open, she had to deal with the various men in the apartment.
Eventually, she elected to stare out the window. Yeah, that worked. It would work for the time being, anyway, while she tried to collect the pieces of herself off the floor and stop embarrassing herself and her parents in front of soldiers.