Portgas dashed out of class by the time the bell rang, mentioning something about a new student who had transferred into our school. I didn't hear anything about it, so I was making the assumption that this new student was an upperclassman. Still, how did Portgas hear about it? Ah, whatever. It didn't matter.

I slung my bag over my shoulder and dragged my feet to the old complex, feeling a similar wave of weariness. Gee, what was going to happen today? Hmm, maybe Portgas planned to take us to the drama club and pillage it for its costumes, and then later force Chopper to wear them. Ugh, the very thought of it made me depressed. I then remembered when I had volunteered to take Chopper's place of passing fliers, which meant that I had to dress up in a bunny suit, which made me even more depressed.

That day when I had been standing by the gates while inside that suffocating animal suit, it had dawned on me: I was no longer that person who was simply helping Portgas create a club, but rather that person who Portgas had suckered into becoming a member of his club. For all those times when I had disassociated myself from Portgas's antics, I had really been trying to evade the fact that I had been his perfect little accomplice all along. I had been just as culpable of these crimes as Portgas was. The reality of it all had caused me to collapse on my knees and had the fliers scatter across the ground. Portgas had spent the remainder of that afternoon yelling at me.

With my mind so beleaguered with negative thoughts, I ended up shuffling the whole way. By the time I reached the clubroom, everyone had already arrived with the addition of someone new. I was met with Portgas's scowl as he marched up to me and grabbed my ponytail.

"Ow, you jerk!" I hissed, trying to pull back. "What's with you always yanking my hair?"

"You're late, Kyonko," Portgas said in a disapproving tone. Oh, as if he had the right to use that voice with me. He came late to the clubroom on daily basis! "You even missed my introduction to our final member!"

While Portgas rambled on about his nonsense, my eyes drifted to the newcomer. He was a tall, lean boy with tanned skin. The first few features that I instantly noticed were the dark circles around his eyes and that deceptively laid-back smile. He looked back at me and shot me a welcoming smile, which caused my internal organs to flip-flop with unease. There was something off with this guy…

I figured that Portgas already considered Basil to be part of the SOS Brigade since he regarded this newcomer as the "final member", and a club required five or more members. This really cemented my membership in the SOS Brigade, huh...? Well, let's look at the bright side of things: At least Portgas would finally chill out and stop his acts of kidnapping.

Although, I found myself not quite taking up to the transfer student—he must be a transfer student since Portgas had made a huge deal about not having one as a member. I wasn't sure what put me off—was it the creepy smile or the tired yet calculative eyes?

"Anyway," Portgas's voice broke through my thoughts, "this is Trafalgar Law who transferred into class 2-5."

"Please, just call me Law," the transfer requested politely.

"And this is Kyonko," Portgas continued, gesturing at me.

I licked my lips nervously and gave a small bow. "Nice to meet you, Law-senpai."

"Likewise."

"Alright!" Portgas cheered, punching the air. "All five members! Just enough to make a club! Kyonko, did you start on that registration paper?"

I blinked. "What? But—"

"Work on it! I'll be giving Law a tour." With that said, he hooked his arm with the older boy's and stalked out of the room. I smacked my forehead and inwardly cursed Portgas. What did he see me as? His secretary?

Later, Chopper excused himself because he had plans to carry out, so it was just me and Basil. Staying in the room would be no different than staying in an empty one since all Basil did was read, read, and read. So I picked up my bag and bid him farewell.

"I'll be going, senpai," I said.

"Have you read the book?"

I looked up, startled by the unexpected question. "Huh? Oh, you mean the book that you lent me the other day?"

"Correct," he said, locking his eyes with mine.

"Oh. I haven't read it yet," I admitted sheepishly. "Maybe I should just give it back to you—"

"There is no need." He never minced his words, did he? Just got straight to the point. "Read it today. As soon as you get home." His voice even had an overtone of command to it.

Well, if he really wanted me to read the book, I probably should… "Alright, alright. I'll read it when I get home," I promised.

Acknowledging me with the tiniest of nods, Basil returned to his book.

By the time I got home, I ate dinner and went to my room to get started on that novel. Or pretend to. Frankly, I really didn't want to read a book about interstellar travel, so I planned on just returning the book back to Basil and lie about reading it. But before I could throw it into my bag, I was held back by a nagging feeling that Basil would somehow know whether I actually read it or not.

I carried the book to my bed, settled down comfortably, and turned to the first page. Just before I could prepare to drown myself in a sea of words, I decided to flip through the pages to see if I could really finish this thing tonight. As I did so, a bookmark fluttered out of the pages and landed on my lap.

Bemused, I held it to my face. It was a strange looking bookmark with a fancy border made out of abstract patterns. When I flipped it over, I found a line of words on the back: "Seven o'clock tonight, waiting for you in the park outside the station."

The words were neat and precise as though they had been printed out from a word processor. I didn't know for sure, but it certainly did look like the sort of handwriting that Basil would have.

I had this book for a few days now. Was this message asking me to meet with Basil at seven o'clock tonight? Or was it meant for the night that he had given me the book? Could it be that he had been waiting in the park every night until I found the bookmark and turned up? That might be why he had told me to read it tonight because he was tired of waiting for me to find the bookmark. But, then, why couldn't he just ask me directly? It wasn't like I was someone difficult to approach right? And it definitely couldn't be because Basil was too shy to do so.

But the most important question was: Why did he want to meet up? I glanced at my clock; it was just past six forty-five. Even on a bike, it would take me around twenty minutes for me to get to the station.

I thought about it for about ten seconds.

Shoving the bookmark in a pocket of my pants, I dashed out of the room and down the stairs. I ran past my brother coming out of the kitchen with some ice cream ("Hey, where you going, Kyonko?" "Mind your own business!"), unchained my bike, and set off, flipping on the light with my foot.

If Basil wasn't there, I was going to have one long laugh. And then chuck the book at Basil tomorrow for wasting my time.

I pedaled as hard as I could. I zipped out of my neighborhood and passed by the bus station. At this time, there were scarcely anyone here, making my ride a relatively quiet one. The only sounds that I could make were car engines from a distance, the rattling of my bike's chain, and the wind whistling in my ears. Eventually, I make it to the park and hopped off my bike.

Under the lights of the uniformly-spaced lamp posts, I could just make out a lone figure sitting on a bench. I squinted and tentatively approached; my pace quickened when I was able to determine that the figure wasn't a stranger but Basil Hawkins indeed.

If I hadn't been looking for him, I probably wouldn't have given him a second glance. He was so motionless that a passerby could have mistaken him for a statue. Basil rose slowly when I was a few feet away, a bit like a puppet being pulled by strings. I noticed he was still wearing his school uniform.

"Um. Hi, senpai. Sorry if I'm late."

He nodded.

"Were you waiting for me yesterday too?" I asked, feeling guilty.

Another nod.

"Couldn't you have told me whatever it is you wanted to tell me at school?"

"This way."

With those two words, he turned around and walked. He walked like a ninja; you couldn't hear a single footstep. I could only reluctantly follow behind Basil, who was fading into the darkness the further he got away from me.

"Are you angry with me for making you wait?" I asked, stumbling to keep up with his longer strides.

"No."

I wasn't sure if I could believe him, but I couldn't detect any emotion in his voice. I shook my head from the thought and launched another question. "Uh, excuse me, but where exactly are we going?"

"My home."

Wait, what?

I froze in my tracks, nearly dropping my bike on the pavement. Why was he bringing me to his place after calling me out here? Was this some sort of bizarre courtship ritual? Was he just asking me out? Weren't there supposed to be, like, preliminaries before this kind of thing? Was I reading too much into this?

As if sensing my hesitation, Basil looked back at me questioningly.

"Aren't we going a little too fast?" I said, backing away a bit. "In all sorts of ways, I mean."

"Do not worry. No one else is home."

That made me worry even more!

I kept my eyes trained on the back of Basil's head, not sure why I was still following him. Maybe it was because he didn't seem to be the type to take advantage of girls. And he had been wholly unfazed by whatever had been going on ever since Portgas had taken over the literature clubroom, which meant that anything he felt that was important enough to tell me had to be absolutely incredible.

A few minutes of walking and watching his unfairly pretty hair billow gently in the wind later, I found myself standing outside a large apartment building fairly near the station.

Basil took out a card and brushed it against the sensor; the glass door slid open smoothly. I hurriedly locked my bicycle by the entrance and jogged after Basil, who kept the door open for me. I stepped into the elevator with him, running through all sorts of (probably) unnecessary scenarios in my mind.

I mentioned unnecessary because I figure that Basil wasn't the sort of guy who would…do things to girls without their consent, but I should have at least brought my phone with me! I could be leading myself to something dangerous for all I knew!

Basil seemed to have something on his mind as well, but, as usual, said nothing, merely staring at the floor number as it slowly increased. The elevator finally arrived at the seventh floor and we disembarked, walking silently down the corridor to a room. He unlocked the door and held it open for me.

"Enter," he said.

I tried not to cringe.

I stepped in and took off my shoes, but I jumped a bit when he shut the door behind him. Well, there was no escaping now. I felt trapped like a mouse being cornered by a hungry cat.

"Follow," Basil said, removing his shoes as well. If the apartment had been dark, I would have had an excuse to make a break for it or lock myself in the bathroom or...something. But, alas, it was illuminated quite brightly. All that light actually made the room feel larger...and emptier.

This must be one of those posh condominiums that cost a fortune to rent, especially considering how close it was to the station. But why did it feel as though nobody lived here? For instance, the living room had only a kotatsu with no other decorations or furniture. There were no curtains on the windows and no carpet over the wooden tiles.

"Sit down," he said, before disappearing into the kitchen without bothering to see if I obeyed. I knelt down beside the table, wondering if I should just try and leave. Before I could make up my mind, Basil returned bearing a tray. Moving like a marionette, he set it down on the table without a word, and diffidently seated himself across the table from me.

Silence.

Awkward.

He didn't even pour the tea. He just sat there, looking at me expressionlessly. Maybe he expected me to pour it for us? I reached towards the teapot, but Basil suddenly had it in one hand before I could grab it; it was as if he had remembered that he had to do something. He began to pour some tea into a cup.

I looked around as of distraction. "So...where's your family?"

"Not here."

"I can see that," I mumbled. "Have they gone out?"

"I am the only one who has ever been here."

That was the longest sentence I had ever heard from him.

"Are—are you living on your own?"

"That is correct."

Whoa, a high school student living alone in a high-class apartment? There must be loads of complicated reasons behind this, and I didn't know whether Basil wanted me to pry too deeply or not. "Well, um, uh... What do you want of me?"

He ignored my question and pushed the cup of tea over towards me. "Drink."

I looked at the cup apprehensively. Was the tea safe to drink? Well, this was Basil. He wouldn't put something into the tea to take advantage of me, right? Even though I didn't know him that well...

"You dislike tea?" he inquired, although he didn't sound particularly curious at all.

"Oh, no. It's just that..." I trailed off. I sat there uncomfortably under the older boy's gaze. It wasn't that I didn't trust him, but a guy asking a girl to come to his place when there was nobody else there? And the first thing he did was offer her some tea without any explanation? It was too suspicious. It was way too suspicious. But there was no way that I was going to say that to his face.

"Look, forget the tea," I said at last. "Could you please just tell me why you've brought me here?"

Basil paused and returned to his seat. He observed me silently, which was slightly unnerving. He was expressionless as ever, but it seemed as though he was trying to think of a way to bring the subject up. Was he looking for the right words? Was he trying to build up the courage to just say it?

"What is it that you can't say at school?" I prompted.

He finally moved his lips. "It is about Portgas D. Ace," he said, straightening his back elegantly. "And myself."

Okay, not what I was expecting. But, then again, I didn't really expect anything; I couldn't anticipate anything from this guy.

"What about Portgas and you?" I asked.

This was the first time I saw a sign of emotion on Basil's seemingly eternally blank face. For a second, he appeared troubled or hesitant. I had my eyes fixed on him the whole time, so that was how I was able to notice the slight furrowing of his brows and the downturn of his lips.

Just before I could bask in the realization that Basil was, in fact, capable of making facial expressions, albeit transient ones, he pulled out a deck of cards from his blazer. He proceeded to shuffle the cards a couple times before setting the stack on the table. One by one, he picked the first card on the deck, skim over the picture, and set it separately from the rest.

He then murmured, "Twenty-two percent of comprehension through visual."

Another card. "Forty-one percent of comprehension through auditory."

Another card. "Fifteen percent of comprehension if message is delayed."

And another. "Twelve percent of no comprehension."

He looked up at me.

Alrighty then…

"It is difficult to convey completely through words," Basil said. "There may be errors in the transmission of data. Regardless, listen to me."

And so…he began to talk.

"Portgas D. Ace and I are not ordinary humans."

And he's gone from being socially awkward to being ultimately weird. I knew that Basil wasn't well-versed in the art of conversing, but did he really have to start with that?

"I had kind of noticed that already," I said carefully.

"You misunderstand," Basil continued, pinning those pale eyes on me. "I do not mean unusual in terms of deviation of universally accepted personality traits. I mean precisely what I said. I mean that he and I are not ordinary human beings like you."

What on earth was he trying to say?

"The Integrated Data Sentient Organization, which oversees this galaxy, has created a Parallel Conscious Transplant Entity in order to acquire data here. That entity is me."

What...?

"My task is to observe Portgas D. Ace and upload all data obtained to the Integrated Data Sentient Organization," Basil went on to say. "I have performed this function since my arrival to this universe a year ago, replacing the former entity who was my predecessor. In the last couple years of Portgas D. Ace's lifetime, no particularly unusual elements were documented. The situation was very stable. However, recently, an external factor has now appeared nearby Portgas D. Ace that cannot be ignored."

I belatedly realized that my jaw had dropped to the floor.

"And that factor would be you."

"Uhhh," was all I could say.

"To put it simply, I am from an organization from another universe that was established for the sake of attaining data from your universe. This organization, the Integrated Data Sentient Organization, transmits recipients to accumulate information and deliver it back to the organization. During this, the organization stumbled upon an issue that distorted all fundamental understanding of this universe.

"Approximately five years ago, a data flare unlike any other appeared on the surface of this planet. An explosion of data erupted from a region on a bow-shaped archipelago, instantly covering the surface of the planet as a whole, and began to spread into space. And at the center of this data spike was a single individual—Portgas D. Ace.

"Neither the cause nor the effect are known. The Integrated Data Sentient Organization is unable to fully process the new data being created. Furthermore, while humans are highly limited in the amount of data they can retain, Portgas D. Ace was able to create a massive data flare on his own. He continues to broadcast torrents of information at completely random intervals. Moreover, he himself appears to be unaware of this.

"Over the past five years, we have conducted various investigations on this individual from all possible perspectives and resulted in one only answer: he is a soul fragment pieced to the original."

A soul fragment of what?

"There is a high probability that he also possesses the ability to control data in his surrounding environment," Basil said. "That is why I am here. That is why you are here."

"Hold up," I interrupted, my mind blurred and confused. "I'll be frank: I really have no idea what you're talking about. More so on the part where Portgas is a fragment to something."

"He is a soul fragment to the original," he reiterated. "This Portgas D. Ace, fifteen years ago to now, has never been an entity of his own."

Huh?

"Our historian tells us that Portgas D. Ace was found on the doorstep of an orphanage, was adopted by Monkey D. Garp, and was raised alongside Money D. Luffy. Portgas D. Ace lived an average life until, by the age of ten, he experienced a connection to his original self, and thus the data flare.

"For you to understand, there are two universes situated in the cosmic system. Both universes have a void membrane as a barrier that experience tension when revolving in a rotational manner. It has been theorized that the original Portgas D. Ace somehow had his fragmented data pass through the membranes, planting itself into this universe. While the original and the fragment are stabilized, the fragment's data flare is in linked with the original's, unbalancing the system."

The way Basil was referring Portgas as a fragment left me unsettled. It sounded as though he was making Portgas out to be some kind of robot with programmed actions.

"I don't think I find much sense in this either," I said slowly. "Another universe? Portgas being a fragment? An organization?"

"Parallel universe," he said.

"Parallel universe."

He nodded.

I took a breath. "Okay, so let's say that I believe all this garbage about you being an alien from another world and there's this Data Sentient whatchamacallit. Just... Why me?"

"You have been chosen by Portgas D. Ace. Whether he is aware of it or not, his consciousness influences the world around him. There must be a reason as to why you have been chosen."

"No, there's no reason!" I shouted.

"There is. You have been chosen by Portgas D. Ace," Basil asserted. "Perhaps for him, you play some pivotal role. You and he hold all of potential within your grasp."

"Are you serious?"

"Completely." Basil looked down at his lap. "I also must impart a warning."

"A warning?" I repeated, feeling drained. What could there possibly be anything that would warrant a warning?

"As his chosen one, there will come a time where you will be sucked into my universe."

You got to be kidding me. "But how?"

"The organization assumes that the unbalancing would upset the galactic construction, naturally sucking you in as it would recognize you as the holder for Portgas D. Ace."

Yeah, this was getting out of hand.

I eyed Basil with scrutiny to see if I could detect a hint of emotion again. A twitch of lips? A twinkle in his eye? Anything that could tell me that this was just an elaborate joke that Basil had been cooking up for quite some time! Heck, this could be a form of revenge for keeping him waiting for days and I would gladly take it. But as I continued to peer into him, I found that, no, Basil was not joking whatsoever.

If you told me earlier today that I would get to hear Basil Hawkins speak in paragraphs, I would be flabbergasted and curious to determine if that was even possible. Yet the last thing that I would have expected was to have all craziness pour out of his mouth. I had figured that Basil was a little odd, but I would never have guessed that he was downright loony.

Integrated Data Sentient Organization? Parallel Conscious Transplant Entity?

Give me a break!

"Look," I said, moving to stand, "you should probably tell this to Portgas. He'd be delighted. Me? I'm not interested in this kinda stuff at all. Sorry."

"The majority of the organization speculates that if Portgas D. Ace becomes self-aware of his abilities, unforeseen consequences may occur. Therefore, at this stage, the situation may only be observed."

"But there's a chance I might tell all of this to him!" I countered. "Why tell me?"

"He will not accept the data you feed him as anything of accuracy," Basil replied blandly.

"Eh?"

"Clarification: He will not believe you."

What, so Portgas would believe him and not me?

Now that I thought about it... Yeah, Basil had a point.

"I am not the only Parallel Conscious Transplant Entity placed on this earth by the Integrated Data Sentient Organization. The majority of the organization intends to take a proactive role and observe the results. You are the key to Portgas D. Ace. If a crisis is to occur, I will look to you first."

Yeah, no.

"Sorry, Basil-senpai, but count me out of whatever business you had in mind. Thanks for the tea." I walked around the table and made my move to leave. As I passed by him, Basil lowered stared down at his cards. Didn't he use those cards to, what, see which method would best help me understand? I glanced over my shoulder. Were those tarot cards? The guy had gone on about different universes and stuff that would make quantum physicists' mouths water, and he also happened to rely on tarot cards of all things.

Wasn't there a clash between science and divination?

I slipped my shoes on, leaning against the door frame. Aliens, huh? That was what Basil had been implying all along, mentioning things like belonging to another universe. Did Basil make this up to play along with Portgas's paranormal obsession? Or was it ironic that the very thing that Portgas had been obsessing over for so long had been right under his nose? Because for all his want of meeting a freak, Ace could have just had one proper conversation with Basil and then meet all his needs.

I bit back a sigh. Basil was ridiculous, but he didn't deserve that uncharitable thought. I looked back at him one last time. His sitting form remained planted in front of the table, in front of his cards. Basil was by no means a small person, but, right at that moment, he did look like it. He...looked lonely.

"Hey," I said. He looked up and turned towards me. "If you're going to make me come out at all hours of the night, the least you can do is walk me home."

If he was anyone else, he probably would have looked surprised. But, as it was, in that same monotone that he used for everything, Basil said, "That is unnecessary. The crime rate in this city is not exce—"

"Humor me," I cut in dryly.

In a way that perfectly coincided with the way my life had been going lately, my little brother opened the door for me when I arrived home.

"Oh, it's you. Why were you—" Wataru's eyes widened when he took notice of Basil. "Ooh, I get it! You were out with a boy!"

I was about to deny it, but, the moment the brat's face split into a grin, I knew that I had only one option to take. Before he could try to run off while singing delightedly, "I'm telling!", I grabbed the back of his shirt and exclaimed, "Chocolate ice cream!"

Wataru staggered. "What?"

I grimaced. "From that stand across the bakery. You pass it every day when you come home from school; you stare at it all the time… I'll buy you chocolate ice cream every day for a week."

His eyes sparkled. "Including the weekend?"

"Fine. Whatever."

"It's a deal!" Wataru said, bouncing on his heels.

And the whole time that Wataru and I made our deal, Basil has just standing there, still as a statue, observing us like he was watching paint dry. I shouldn't have caved into my guilt and make him walk me home. A robot like Basil ever feeling lonely? As if.

When Dad asked me where I had been, I gave a vague, noncommittal answer and went straight up to my room. Lying on my bed, I mused over what Basil had told me.

The Integrated Something Something Organization. And he was a Parallel Something Something Entity. I rolled over onto my back and blew my bangs out of my face. Basil had mentioned the organization's whole name several times, but it was so easy to forget. Why did he use the whole name? Did this organization not have acronyms?

My eyes drifted over and fell on the novel that I had tossed aside. I took out the bookmark from my pocket, stared at the designs for a minute, and placed it by my pillow.

Basil probably never spoke to anyone in his class, imprisoning himself within his own mind. That guy ought to break out of his shell one of these days. All he had to do was put down his book, get out there and make friends, and enjoy his school life as much as he could. He only had a year left, him being a third-year, so this was all he was going to get.

However, as much as I would love to see him doing regular high school student stuff, that was something that only Basil could decide for himself. If he truly preferred his books over human company, that was on him. Although, what was it about books that made them much more preferable to making friends? It made me wonder as I held the borrowed novel in my hands.

I thought about returning the it to Basil tomorrow, but you know what? Forget it. I already had met him, so I might as well get started on reading it.

In the clubroom, Portgas stood up imposingly on one of the chairs.

"We've already done a lot of work! Thanks to our distribution of informative materials and the establishment of the official SOS Brigade webpage, our reputation in the school has already soared sky high and pierced the heavens! Therefore, I hereby declare phase one of my plan to be a great success!"

By great success, it was really notoriety. Ranging from the countless costumes that he had forced on poor Chopper, we had definitely gained notoriety.

"But our inbox has yet to receive a single email about any mysterious events," the chief continued. "And nobody's come forwards to discuss their concerns with us about their experiences."

Stupid. Reputation alone wouldn't help us. Besides, we didn't have reputation—just notoriety. Nobody would want to get involved with us—ever. And the school didn't even recognize the existence of this club, anyway.

"There used to be a saying that 'patience is a virtue'," Portgas said loudly, glaring ferociously at all of us with a zeal that was bordering on terrifying, "but, since then, times have changed. Even if we have to reverse the direction the world spins, even if we have to drill through the clouds instead of the ground, we will seek them out! We will find what we seek by ourselves! So, everybody! Let's begin searching!"

"What exactly are we looking for?" I elected to ask since no one else bothered to. Not even Law, the mysterious transfer student. Whatever Portgas had planned for us to find, I hoped that it was a wheat thresher. Chopper could use a wheat thresher—to shred all the costumes that he had been subjected to wear that had in turn shredded his self-esteem. The poor guy.

Portgas smirked. "To find all the mysterious events of this world!"

Right. Of course.

"As long as we try hard, we should be able to find at least one or two events in this town!"

Ugh.

I expressed my reluctance plainly; I didn't see the point of concealing my reservations for whatever shenanigans that Portgas was dragging us into anymore. Law only smiled enigmatically. Basil remained blank-faced as always. Chopper didn't seem to bother protesting, only appearing exhausted. He looked how I felt.

Ignoring everyone's reactions, Portgas waved his arms and yelled, "This Saturday! Tomorrow! We'll meet outside the North Station before nine in the morning! Don't be late! Absentees will be punished!"

With that said, he dismissed today's meeting. Before I exited out the door, I took a quick glance at Basil, who was situated by the window, reading. I remembered our discussion from before, but it was hard to believe that it had actually happened.

Additionally, I didn't believe what Basil had said was true… About Portgas being a fragment of his parallel self from another universe, or so Basil had tried to insist upon. If Portgas wasn't an entity of his own, then how could he be able to eat, breathe, frown, complain, laugh, yell…? He had all the elements of what made a human human, so why would Basil say that he was just a soul fragment? If anything, Basil was the one who was more likely to be a soul fragment.