Disclaimer: All fandom-based and real-life entities, including other art and literary works mentioned in this piece do not belong to the author with the exception of original characters, plot, and subplots. The views and opinions of the characters do not necessarily reflect that of the author.
Zwischenzug
by four-eyed 0-0
Part III
"With the possible exception of the equator, everything begins somewhere."
– Peter Fleming
o-o
Beginnings
"Aren't we stepping into the trap?"
"We are."
"Then why?"
"You mean there's a catch? We must play this on their terms, but we can't not have a card up our sleeve. That's why I'll be with you."
"Are you sure about this?"
"I am. Are you?"
"No, but I… I trust you."
Kurama was already set for his day, the lie he was going to feed to his family baked. He'd surmised that he'd need to devote his full time to this new venture if he wanted to solve the case immediately with less damage to other people involved, especially Aoshi.
She was extremely anxious, unable to fully grasp the strategy he'd drawn up for them, convinced that everything was far too convenient and obvious, that they were walking into the trap headlong.
But that was what he wanted—to give them what they wanted, but not letting them hold all the cards. They'd expected all legitimate scientists to transfer to Todai. He'd assume the identity of a faux scientist. That should shake them off their hinges.
While the brilliance of the plan was applauded by the rest of the group, Aoshi's reservations had been very clear to him as day. He'd have told her that she had no choice but to do as instructed, but he didn't have to when she finally said that she trusted him.
Somehow he felt that winning her trust—at least for the mission—was more than he asked for.
It was interesting how the professor could easily pick up on his hints and how she'd provided substantial evidence for the rest of them to work on. While everything seemed too easy, it was a start.
Finishing up his letter, he sealed it in its envelope and started for the office. He took a water bottle from the kitchen counter as he went for the door, staring at the purplish liquid inside and checking for its consistency.
Finding nothing unusual about this latest brew, he put it inside his briefcase and made his way to the train station.
Upon his arrival at the firm, he bypassed his floor for the topmost, pushing the door at the end of the hallway open to step into a brightly lit room, spacious and boasting a lucrative ambiance from the smaller number of harried employees and busy cubicles.
Kurama nodded at Hatanaka's secretary as she locked eyes with him. "Is the Chairman in? I need to speak with him."
"Have your way, Minamino," said she, scribbling away on her logbook.
Kurama thanked her and pushed the glass door open, stepping into the equally spacious office Hatanaka was currently occupying, the floor-to-ceiling window casting an air of authority the chairman didn't really project with his soft, square face, rectangular spectacles, and permanent smile.
"Good morning, Chairman," Kurama greeted, bowing as he stopped in front of the desk.
He looked up from his paperwork and flashed a bright grin, his dark eyes reduced to slits. "Shuichi! It's nice to see you. How have you been?"
"Quite well," Kurama said, returning the smile with his own. "You?"
"Ah, same old, same old. Your mother would like to see you for dinner on Thursday. Why don't you sit down?"
"Yes, Shuuichi has told me. I'll do my best to come, but I'm in a bit of a hurry, actually," Kurama said. "I only wanted to inform you of my leave from the office."
At Hatanaka's questioning look mixed with anxiety, Kurama handed him the envelope. The older man took it from his hands and looked up at him with the unspoken question.
"I've been summoned for another mission by the force. Like before, there's no certainty regarding the period of my absence, but if I don't call you in three days, then you may open the letter and find the person who'd know where I am."
Hatanaka's eyes were momentarily hidden by the glare off his glasses, which was perfect timing. Kurama knew he was disturbed by the tone in Kurama's voice, how easily he could talk about his potential demise. "Shuichi, what is it again this time?"
"It's confidential, I'm sorry," said Kurama, bowing to him. "Please tell my mother of it when you come home tonight. I'll be calling."
A heavy sigh escaped the old man's lips and he leant on his chair. "You're perfectly aware of your mother's reservations about this."
"It's been done before and it's the same routine, sir. I go and I return. I'll be with you on Thursday night, I promise."
At least his last statement was a certainty.
Hatanaka didn't bother to correct him. He had long realized Kurama's way of addressing him would stay the same no matter what. It was a matter of personal preference, as he couldn't hold him in too close a regard as to address him as his father. Hatanaka didn't say anything, nor did Shiori. It was as if they knew arguing with him was futile.
Kurama didn't bother changing that impression. He'd drawn up where he stood, and it would stay that way until he was with them.
"Then you'll go back to this mission."
"Yes, I will be doing so until its resolution."
Hatanaka nodded. "All right, I understand. Just… just come home to us, please, Shuichi?"
Kurama was getting too old for this. "Yes, sir."
"Good luck, then."
"Thank you."
He bowed and exited the office.
Without further incidence, he was able to board the train that would take him to Bunkyo. Upon exiting, he went for the public lavatory, taking the cubicle farthest from the door and waited until the other occupant of the restroom had exited, the retreating footfalls fading into the background of a busy subway.
Judging that the coast was clear, Kurama took out the water bottle from his briefcase and shook the contents. When he peered through the creamy, translucent liquid and found no particulates at the bottom, he uncapped the bottle and downed all the sixteen ounces of bitter brew in large, resounding gulps.
With the last drop gone, Kurama waited as the potion took its effect. An itch started at the back of his throat, as though from a cough that never was, which traveled to the back his head... to his face, to his nose. He resisted the urge to scratch at any point, reminding himself that it was all part of the process.
His scalp started itching, too, as his hair shrunk back, pulled away from his shoulders, twisting and turning. The red dissipated from the root to the tips, replaced by an oak-brown shade. Kurama's eyes slunk away from his hair as the itch traveled to the tip of his fingers and his toes, making them curl, and when he could no longer hold the overwhelming sense of an allergic attack, it stopped.
He released a heavy breath, fingers loosening from the death grip he hadn't realized he had on his briefcase. Straightening his back, he threw the bottle into the trash bin next to the toilet bowl after stuffing it with some toilet paper to soak up the remaining droplets inside.
With that done, he flushed the toilet for the impression that he'd been using it and opened the cubicle door, pivoting to see himself in the mirror by the sink.
His red hair was gone, replaced by a brown shade with kinks that would set Yusuke and Kuwabara to a jeering game. "Afro Kurama!" they'd probably be yelling.
But he had to deal with this as he'd enlisted himself for the infiltration.
It didn't turn out as a big disaster, though, as he managed to brush his otherwise wild hair into submission and put the locks into a ponytail, his bangs falling to the side of his face, his sideburns, albeit shorter, in place.
In fact, as he gazed at his reflection in the mirror, he thought he could do with the hairstyle even after the assignment. It kept the seeds more secure and well-hidden from anyone who didn't know they were there. Not that he prattled away with that secret to everyone.
Hmm, maybe not.
He exited the lavatory and was starting for the direction of the Hongo campus of the University of Tokyo. He was too early for the time he and the professor had set; she was still having her morning lecture somewhere in the science building, and he thought of something to occupy himself.
Aside from observing the area, which was what he was already doing as he passed the gates and started for the Faculty of Science, he decided it would be great to put his disguise into test.
He checked his watch. It was already nine-fifty-three in the morning. He was considerably late for the first period, which was just perfect.
He strode down the stone path and greeted the security personnel by the lobby of the brick-red building.
"Hello, I'm Matsuda Kou," he said, putting on his best smile as he flashed his fake Stella-Bio ID at the unsuspecting fellow. Botan was quick to have it done after much persuading for the professor to lend hers as template. "I'm bound for the Department of Biological Sciences for a scheduled appointment with Professor Aoshi."
The guard nodded and motioned for him to continue without another word. Kurama walked to the lifts and pressed the call button. When he was finally admitted to the third floor, he found himself in a slight quandary for one, nervous moment.
It had been less obvious at first, but as he traced the faint, familiar smell of menthol and lily-of-the-valley shampoo, he abandoned the atrium and went for the lecture hall doors to his right. He pushed one door open and admitted himself inside, the booming voice of the professor standing on the lectern carrying through from where he was standing some ten rows away from the central podium.
Some less enthusiastic students whipped their heads to look at the new arrival, and he slipped into the seat of the empty row closest to the door. He ignored them as they continued observing him, staring straight through the bright hall littered with cream tables and blue swivel chairs, to where the professor had paused from her rapid-fire speech.
"Ah!" she said, finally realizing his presence. "A latecomer? Didn't I ever tell you of my policies? If you're going to come in during the last fifteen minutes of my class, then you might as well not come. Stealing your classmates' attention away from the lecture and breaking my momentum!"
Everyone—every single head—turned to look at him. Kurama's skin would have gone clammy if the professor had recognized him. She didn't, and it made him feel less uncomfortable.
He kept his cool and nodded his head, the picture of a repentant student.
"I want you to see me after class with an explanation."
She looked positively livid. He nodded again and let Aoshi proceed.
"So, as I was saying," she said, voice indignant and harassed, "not all phenotypes result from the expression of a single gene. Some genes located in other loci within the genome could contribute to the phenotypic expression either in an additive or non-additive way. Let's take for example the trait height."
Her finger tapped on the keyboard of her laptop, and a new slide in her presentation flashed before them, Kurama turning to see the graphs flashed on the screen hung above the white board.
Aoshi continued without giving the presentation a glance, the air about her that of someone who'd been at this for a while now. "When we speak of traits such as the height, there is always a basal level for an organism, only intrinsically varying across sexes, races, and age groups. For example, women are generally shorter than most men, while Westerners are taller than Asians.
"But since height is a polygenic trait, there is always the probability that someone who's Japanese could be as tall as Michael Jordan or someone who's British could be just as tall as a midget. In the first case, we can say that the gene contributing to height quantitatively is present in many other loci within the genome, but for the latter, it's not possible. Why do you think so?"
"Professor," one student said, raising a hand. "It's because a British's basal height is not that of a midget and that since height is a polygenic trait, the physical manifestations should therefore be influenced by other non-additive alleles or factors… or other extraneous factors."
"Excellent, Mr. Shibasaki!" Aoshi was saying, nodding approvingly. "But that is only true if the British we talk of is full-blooded British. Notice that there are parents who are dwarves with children reaching normal height in puberty and adolescence."
She tapped on the laptop once more, and a picture of a smiling family of three flashed before them, the dwarf father being carried on the shoulders by his son who was taller than his wife.
"See here? The father obviously has dwarfism, a condition from the underactivity of the thyroid gland. But even then, his son reached his full-height potential, even surpassing his mother's. This is because he possesses the genes to have this height, and so does his father, only that in the latter's case the full expression is suppressed due to other intervening factors."
The bell signaling the end of the first period rang, and the students broke into a scramble as they collected their belongings.
"Read chapters 16 and 17 and prepare for a quiz next meeting," Aoshi said over the ruckus of the students hurrying to get out of the hall. Groans resounded from everyone, and Kurama stood up from his seat, maneuvering his way towards the aisle so he could reach the lectern where Aoshi was gathering her belongings.
A young student reached the professor faster than he did, and Kurama paused a few rows behind her, listening.
"Professor, I need to speak with you," the girl said, pleading.
Aoshi wasn't looking at the student. "What is it, Miss Honda? Can't you schedule an appointment with me in the department? The next period's in ten minutes."
"No, I'm sorry, ma'am, I wanted to talk to you as soon as possible. I was thinking if you could assign me additional workload to compensate for my journal report."
The professor let go of the cord she was disassembling. "I beg your pardon?" she said, eyebrows raised.
Honda bristled, her ponytail quivering from fright. "You can give me anything—a paper or a report or a case study. I just need to pass this course, ma'am."
Upon the student's low bow, Aoshi only scoffed, folding her arms across her chest. "Pass your remaining exams and submit well-written papers. There's nothing else I would give you than is required of the course."
"But Professor—!"
"No, Miss Honda. If I tolerate your incompetence, then I will have to tolerate everyone else's. Now give us both a favor and quit your dallying. There will be no additional credits for you, and that's final."
The student struggled for words and hung her head, defeated. Kurama turned to see a few other spectators who hadn't gone out of the hall, their faces set in anticipation.
Something should happen…
"You're a vindictive bitch! A remorseless cow!" Honda was screaming, pumping a fist towards the professor's direction, accusing her of a crime that never was.
Kurama wanted to cover his ears drummed at by the high-pitched histrionics echoing through the huge hall, attracting everyone else who'd been at the door like moths to a small speckle of light.
"You never listen to what we have to say! You're insufferable and insensitive! God knows how many of us had wanted you to die in that fire! You're a demon's spawn!"
The cool, impassive expression on Aoshi's face faltered at the student's last words. It was only momentary, as her lips curled to a smirk before they took the shape of a pout.
"Moof, moof!"
Honda froze, her face scrunching in confusion. Kurama felt his own twist. "What?"
Aoshi's smirk became broader as she chuckled. "I'm a cow-bitch, right? Moof, moof!"
A writhing in the pit of his stomach told Kurama the professor's joke felt too below-the-belt.
She was cocking her head every which way as she taunted the student further. "Moof, moof, Miss Honda, moof, moof, moof!"
The student broke into tears and pushed Kurama out of her way as she bolted for the door, the others giving her a wide berth as she ran past them unseeingly.
Kurama turned to Aoshi who was glaring up at him, blowing a lock of hair too short for the bun sitting at the back of her head.
Her eyes flicked upwards, towards the door and the rest of the class unmoved from the where they'd taken root.
Aoshi's voice was laced with venom. "Well? What are you waiting for? Show's over! Scram!"
The mildly veiled threat of another probable humiliation set everybody to motion, and Aoshi turned to her belongings, hands moving quickly but distractedly. Kurama noticed the way her fingers were shaking, unable to concentrate on the task at hand. He realized it had nothing to do with getting even with the student. The mention of that word had set her off more than the other insults thrown her way.
The professor could use a break, but it couldn't be now. It would be counterproductive if she didn't get used to it.
Kurama walked the last few feet to the desk, deposited his briefcase at his feet, and offered his hand in front of her.
"Why are you late?" she asked, ignoring his gesture.
"I'm not late, Professor."
Aoshi's hands stilled a second late and she slowly looked up at him, eyebrows knitted as she studied his face, roving at his features. She was blinking rapidly, looking him up, down, then back again, before her mouth fell open.
Kurama's offered hand moved to settle on her mouth and her exclamation was muffled. "Keep it down, Professor. I'm in a disguise for a reason," he whispered, leaning towards her.
Face suddenly red and warmer than he'd expected, her hands let go of the strap of the black bag she'd put the laptop in and pulled at his wrist to unclasp his hold on her.
"W-what? How—?"
He found it almost amusing that even after she'd ridden herself of the obstruction to her speech, she was unable to say anything coherent from her shock. He must have done a terrific job to elicit the priceless expression she wore now.
"I'll tell you later. But first, you must know that I'm Matsuda Kou."
Kurama wordlessly took the laptop bag and offered her own handbag to her before bending down to take his briefcase.
When she didn't make a move, he smiled at her and cocked his head to the side. "Shall we? My future employers are waiting."
o-o
"What possessed you to sneak on me while I was having a lecture?" Chiaki asked, appalled that the redhead—brunette—should see how big of a bitch she was to her students.
It shouldn't be mistaken for shame; she was known as the Yuki-Onna to the rest of the school and she took all of the insults thrown her way with a grain of salt. She wasn't a heartless teacher. She was only being fair and just to her students. It was the way it should be. College wouldn't be college without professors breathing down your neck and pushing you to your limits. If the student slacked, then they'd get the mark they deserved. She had no room for considering the insolent. If they didn't like her method, then they could drop her course anytime.
She didn't freaking care if it broke them down. There would be people with more pressing problems than they could write with the trivial matters they let in as distractions to their pursuit for higher education.
Honda had been one of the few students who thought less of a professor's authority. Chiaki only stuck to the university regulations and to what the course required of her as a teacher and as a just person. If she tolerated the misbehavior of one out of a hundred, she wasn't being fair to the ninety-nine others.
Kurama's timing only mattered to her as it could've given him the wrong impression of how she actually was as a professor. Everybody thought she was the spawn of a dragon, of a demon, but she'd learned to laugh it off long ago since everyone knew it was far from the truth.
She genuinely cared for the students; she just didn't want to favor a single person and forsake the many. She just wanted to be fair. Sadly, humans are naturally inclined to maximize and pass judgment to people who hinder their personal gains.
Talk about how unfair life is and the world being full of idiots.
"I only wanted to test the disguise on you," said Kurama, pushing open the door and letting her pass first.
She waited for him to get out of the hall before she said, "Something tells me that was actually unnecessary."
For all she knew, he could have really just wanted to see her make a fool out of herself as she retaliated to an imbecile of a student who dared to call her names more than she'd ever recited in class.
Kurama's crimped bangs swayed a bit as he shook his head in disbelief. "All right, I admit I was curious."
Chiaki rolled her eyes. "Curious to see an insensitive cow-bitch make a student the receiving end of a sick joke?"
He raised his dark eyebrows at her. "I wasn't expecting to see any of it, I promise."
She hitched her handbag higher up her shoulder, taking the laptop bag from Kurama as they turned to another hallway that would lead them to the department at its opposite end. The cream-colored walls were lit with the sunlight streaming from the outside through the glass paneled windows, and they walked in almost companionable silence with the occasional passers-by throwing the new person with the kinky hairstyle odd looks.
"You just happened to be there," Chiaki said. "You have a knack of coming at the most convenient of times, do you know that?"
He smiled at her, shaking his head as he raised an upturned palm to gesture towards her. "I could say the same about you."
Picking up on its meaning, Chiaki settled for a new topic. "It's a bit distracting, you know? You have his voice but not his hair. Tell me, who designed the hairdo?"
"I did. Do you like it?" he said, smoothening out his bangs with a wide, teasing smile.
Chiaki scoffed, snorting into her hand as she chuckled. "Oh god, the femme fatale consulting with a manly woman."
He merely tilted his head at her as she continued to heave, catching her breath from her laughter and humorless joke. "Is there something wrong if I did?"
"No," said Chiaki, turning to him and staring straight at his face. "But honestly, green eyes and brown hair? I know you're a fanatic of plants but is there really a need to wear their colors?"
"Not all plants are brown and green."
She only stared at him, raising an eyebrow.
"It's a random choice," he said. "I've worn too many disguises before."
"And you've been left with kinks and brown? Mind you, they sort of look like roots from this angle."
"You have excellent eyes and quite a store of metaphors, Professor."
"Why, thanks for noticing."
They stopped in front of the glass-and-wooden double doors to the department, and she led him inside, gesturing for him to take the chaise longue by the waiting area.
"Wait for when I call you for the interview."
Kurama only did as he was told, smiling at her. Chiaki then continued down the hallway ending to an open area where the faculty room was situated. She greeted her co-teachers on break who more or less acknowledged her, making a beeline to her cubicle and depositing her belongings.
"Professor Minamata," said Chiaki, grasping the divider to peer into the cubicle adjacent to hers. The stout, wheezing professor turned to her, eyes drooping too early into the day. "Is the Chairman in?"
"Yes, he has seen the applicant's portfolio," he replied in his drawling voice.
"Thank you," said Chiaki, offering him a tight smile. She marched to the door by the opposite side of the room, latching at the doorknob as she knocked on it.
"Come in."
She pushed the door open and bowed after admitting herself inside the humble office of the Chairman, the window blinds pulled up to admit sunlight into the room.
"Good morning, Professor. Matsuda has arrived."
"Professor Aoshi," he said, fixing her with a sincere expression. "Are you confident in this young man?"
Chiaki projected more assurance into her voice. "He was an excellent colleague at Stella-Bio, Professor. He'd make a good addition to the faculty."
The Chairman made a steeple out of his fingers and pressed his lips to them. "I've known you since you were a student, Professor, and I trust your judgment."
That proclamation sent Chiaki's ego to the roof and her heart rate on overdrive. While she celebrated the fact that the Chairman had so much confidence in her, she couldn't help but feel guilty that this was all just a ploy to serve their underlying purpose.
But she needed answers. She needed to know.
"Thank you, Professor. Shall I call him in?"
"Yes, please."
Chiaki bowed to the aging man in his crisp suit and exited the room. Kurama was as still as a statue when she found him, staring up at the departmental organization chart hung on the wall across from him.
"Hey, you ready?" she asked, hands clasped behind her.
"Of course," he replied, standing up and pulling at his jacket to smarten himself up. "I didn't know you were the head of the human resource unit."
"I didn't know it mattered," she said, jerking her head for him to follow. "Although indeed, if it weren't for me, you wouldn't be having your interview now."
"Does that warrant words of gratitude from me?"
His manner of sniping at her felt more like a challenge than anything. "No. I was merely underscoring how important I am, no matter how I appear inconsequential to most."
Kurama was bowing to the clerk and the other teachers who gazed his way, and when he came level with her by the Chairman's office, he whispered, "That I saved you from choking to death should prove it more than anything."
Chiaki's nostrils flared at the memory. She knocked at the door and stuck her head inside, "He's here, Professor," she said to the Chairman who only nodded at her. When she withdrew her head, she said, wagging a finger at Kurama, "Get in and don't screw things up."
"Have some confidence in me, Professor," Kurama was saying before he disappeared behind the door.
With the demon gone, she released a big sigh and went for the bathroom. Kurama's appearance got the disagreeable student's words off her mind, but now with no one to distract her, she craved for a smoke.
Locking herself in the farthest cubicle from the door, she took the cigarette pack from her pocket, lit up one stick, and sat herself on the toilet bowl with the cover down. Taking a long first drag from the stick and breathing it out through her nostrils to release the metaphorical burden on her shoulders, she let them sag as she curled up on the toilet seat.
She didn't know why that single word rattled her, knowing full well what Honda had actually meant when she said it. Whether it was because there were actual demon spawns and offspring in their midst or just because she was dimly reminded of the current happenings in her life was already beyond her.
Not to mention Kurama was inside the same building as she was, already underway in executing their plans. She hadn't initially agreed to it, but after much persuasion, she realized there was no point in arguing with a determined soul.
She'd have to come with him to the IMCB so they could apply for employment, and while she trusted that he was knowledgeable enough (in paper and in deed), she was still anxious if he could really pass as a scientist.
The interview with the Chairman should determine if he'd need an extreme crash course in advanced laboratory protocols and etiquette, and Chiaki wasn't looking forward to spending extra time with him when she could be alone with herself and her paperwork.
Her cigarette was out in a matter of three minutes, and she yanked some toilet paper to wrap the butt with, throwing the bunch along with the wrapper of the mint chew that was already in her mouth.
She washed her hands on the sink and stared herself in the mirror, trying to see if she looked like someone had pissed in her cereal bowl this morning. The smoke had calmed her down somehow, but with the looming interview at the IMCB, it would probably take her more than a pack to reach the type of calm she desired at the moment.
It had taken her a few more sharp breaths before she leaned away from the sink, fixing a wayward lock of hair back to the bun she'd put up this morning, and headed back to the faculty room.
She craned her neck to see through the window blinds of the Chairman's office if Kurama was already done with the interview, but when she saw the uncharacteristic shock of kinky brown hair turned towards her, she sat herself back to her cubicle.
"You don't smell good," said Minamata from his cubicle. "Did something happen again, Professor?"
Chiaki opened her class record and located Honda's name, reviewing the marks she'd given her for the course requirements.
"Oh, the usual. A student telling me how bad a teacher I am."
Honda had failed her journal report, and Chiaki would have given her deductions from the words she'd thrown her way, but Chiaki didn't believe getting even just because she had authority over her grades was the best form of revenge. She'd deal with this like a conscious human being, able to be rational and emphatic to the less sensitive ilk. She dealt with the students as they performed in class, and she wouldn't put it against them if they insulted her at the ring of the bell.
It was called being plastic—versatile, synthetic, malleable.
"What did they call you today?"
Even though Minamata didn't sound like an enthusiastic conversationalist, Chiaki welcomed the offered distraction. "A cow-bitch."
"Oh? And what did you say?" he replied, not bothering to fake concern over this most common occurrence.
"Moof, moof," she replied, drawling it out like he did.
Minamata didn't reply for a beat, and when he did, it sounded like he was smiling. Or so she wanted to think that he was. "You're ingenious."
"Students need to be toned down every once in a while."
"You have a gift for it."
Chiaki snorted, as she was reminded of the Witch of a Random Impasse in Shibuya. "If only it makes for good money."
"Sure it does. The Chairman finds it charismatic. He wouldn't have recommended you to the IMCB if he didn't," Minamata was quick to assure her.
She could picture him scribbling on his notebook as he was speaking, completely able to project that much sincerity in his voice while he wrote out his lecture plan. Chiaki briefly mused if she would ever reach his level in multitasking as a seasoned member of the academe and scientific community after all this was over.
With her agreement to being an instrument for the resolution of the case, Chiaki had risked her whole career and left it hanging by a cliff on a stormy day. If they screwed up, she was done for.
But as her eyes landed on the cubicle two spots across from hers, empty save for some unlit incense sticks, a small pot of flowers, and a picture of a man who didn't know how to smile, she felt that it was worth it.
This was for Yamamoto and his untimely death. This was for all who died because of some twisted power play.
"He might have only done that since Stella-Bio's closed down."
"We've always wanted you to join us."
"You know why I never did."
Minamata hummed under his breath, the signal of the end of their conversation, and Chiaki turned to the stack of papers on her desk waiting to be checked. She silently wished she wouldn't need too much ink in correcting them. Her students should know better not to settle for mediocre work now or they'd carry it over for when they were already working.
Really, she wasn't much of a terror professor.
o-o
Aoshi must have gone out of her way to give Ishihara the endorsement that she did. The moment the interview began, the Chairman was already congratulating him for securing an appointment through her. It was apparently a difficult task to find a replacement to the late Yamamoto, but with Aoshi's recommendation, their plan looked more feasible now. The last minute instructions she'd given last night worked like a spell, as the Chairman's eyes were becoming softer and softer as the interview went on.
Not ten minutes later, Ishihara was clapping him on the shoulder and he guided him out of the small office. He called for everyone's attention, and Kurama saw Aoshi stick her head from a cubicle next to a pudgy man's, wearing a smirk on her face as she stood up, her hands akimbo. The definite smell of tobacco and mint wafted from her, tickling Kurama's nostrils a bit.
"Everyone, please meet Matsuda Kou. He'll be starting to work with us next week and will take up Professor Aoshi's load."
A collective gasp resounded inside the room, and Kurama's head whipped to look at the Chairman, then to Aoshi whose face looked like she could use the bathroom.
Ishihara continued, "In turn, Professor Aoshi will be filling Professor Yamamoto's vacated post." He beckoned for the shell-shocked professor who mechanically walked up to the two of them. "Congratulations, you two. Aoshi, please take care of him."
Kurama bowed just as the Chairman did, and soon the three of them were looking down on their shoes. When they straightened up, Aoshi widened her eyes at him in disbelief and awe, probably from how fast things had fallen into place.
The Chairman left the two of them for his office while everyone else went back to their businesses after congratulating them. Aoshi was shaking her head, almost wanting to laugh, and she turned her back to him, beckoning for him to follow her.
She checked her watch when they reached her cubicle. "I'm free till fourth period. Let's go for that other interview."
"Make sure you give him a briefing, Professor," said Minamata, leaning away from his chair to look the two of them in the face.
"Of course, sir. The Chairman made that clear."
Aoshi smirked up at Kurama knowingly, her eyes sparkling in silent amusement. She took her hand bag and jacket, and the two of them went to exit.
On their way, the door opened before Aoshi could get hold of the handle and she stumbled back, leaning dangerously close to Kurama as she prevented her fall with one foot. The offender was automatically delivering his apologies but faltered when he saw Aoshi, not even noticing the other presence behind her.
"Oh, it's only you, Chiaki," he said, eyebrows shooting up to his forehead. He held a stack of papers in one hand, a bag slung over his shoulder, spectacles glinting from the lighting inside the department.
If he called her by her first name, then they should be fairly intimate with each other.
But Aoshi's next words were laced with venom. She crossed her arms as she spoke, "Yeah, only me. Guess that doesn't entitle me to receive your apologies if you can help it, even when I almost did fall."
"You don't have to be spiteful about it. It means I don't think you're overtly sensitive."
Aoshi scoffed. "Am I supposed to be flattered now?"
"No," he said, finally looking to see Kurama who was observing the subtle exchange of heated words. "Were you on your way out, sir? Sorry Chiaki and I had to stall you."
"He's actually with me," said Aoshi, snarling at the unnamed person. "And don't call me Chiaki. It's Aoshi."
He wasn't looking at her when he said, "He is? I didn't know you still had admirers, Chiaki."
"He's a new faculty member. Get your head out of the gutter and do us the favor of getting out of the way while you're at it. And it's Aoshi. How many times do I have to tell you that?"
"You don't have to. I'll call you whatever I want to call you," he said, sidestepping to let them pass. "Bye, Chiaki and… what's your name?"
Kurama turned back to face him while Aoshi continued the rest of the way to exit the room with the mint green walls. "Matsuda. Matsuda Kou," he said, bowing.
"Pleasure. It's Urawa Isamu," the man said, bowing to him. "See you around."
Kurama bowed to him again, letting the door fall closed before he jogged to cover the distance a fuming Aoshi had put between the two of them in so short a time.
"Who is he?" he dared to ask.
"God, didn't he introduce himself? He's Mr. Prick, that's who he is," said Aoshi too quickly, sounding like how Keiko did when Yusuke was fooling around. Frustrated and annoyed.
"He did tell me his name. I was only wondering who he is to you," he dared again, too amused that someone could get a rise out of her without doing much but throw a few words her way.
"He's no one important," she said, glaring up at him. "Could you grant me a favor? Don't ever mention him again. Ever."
"I can't be sure about that. He'll be a colleague, after all," Kurama tried, wanting to see how she'd react.
She bared her teeth at him and snarled like she did just a few moments prior, clearly choleric. "Not when I'm around, do you understand?"
"All right," said Kurama, shrugging his shoulders noncommittally.
"That was tongue-in-cheek."
"You can read minds?"
She put on her jacket as they entered the empty lift car. "I can control minds as well. Otherwise, Ishihara wouldn't have hired you."
"I knew you were a magnet for good luck," he said, smiling at her as he followed her, standing at the corner opposite the one she occupied.
Picking on his jibe, Aoshi made a show of curtseying. "At your service."
Kurama didn't know what else to throw her way, so he settled for a new topic. "How will it go with the IMCB?"
"We get to the office and wait for the interviewer. We then get interviewed and we get in or we don't. Simple."
Kurama looked at her who was inspecting her nails in nonchalance. She didn't seem to feel his gaze on her for a few moments and when she did turn to him, her eyes were narrowed.
"Oh, bother. You can manage. You're quite cool."
The lift doors opened with a ding and she was hurrying to get out as the ramification of her pronouncement dawned on the two of them. Kurama was already grinning, keeping up with her.
"I am cool?"
"Yeah, sure," she said, tapping at the bun on top of her head, keeping her pace. "I'm sure you've heard it more than I've said it."
"You think so?"
She looked over her shoulder as they reached the stone pavement outside, basking in the glow of the morning sun. "Yeah, I do. You're being obnoxious."
Kurama's smile grew. "I am?"
"Dammit, Ku—"
The rest of her sentence was drowned out as his hand found its way to her mouth out of reflex.
"Professor, not here!" he said in a harsh whisper, looking over her head for anyone who could have heard. Thankfully, the small knots of students scuttling about them didn't notice her almost-slip, continuing on their way as they chattered about.
She grabbed his wrist and wrenched his hand away from her face, grimacing. "Right, sorry, it won't happen again."
He dropped his hand and placed it inside his coat's pocket. "Thank you."
Aoshi was fiddling with her collar before she turned away from him, walking again. "But if it ever happens, could you at least do away with touching me? Just cut me off with a warning."
Was she unsettled? "I'm sorry. It was instinctive."
She waved a hand to dismiss his apologies, still not looking at him. "Don't sweat it. It's not like you can read minds or something."
"Oh, all right."
The rest of their walk was silent, and Kurama kept his distance from her as she led the way to the IMCB. He didn't know she found it uncomfortable that he touched her, and somehow, even though he wasn't supposed to, he felt like he violated her privacy.
He shouldn't be thinking too much about it, but the fact that he made the wrong impression of her again didn't sit well with him. Her meeting him head-on with her comebacks had been amusing at best, but because of them he thought she was fine with an innocent touch at his part.
Why that set her off, even when he had the best intentions, was beyond him.
They had probably walked a mile before she halted in front of a towering building, its white and blue façade sticking up from the brown-hued ones they'd passed by in an oddly complementary way. The patio led to a set of glass doors, and Kurama read from the bold, golden letters from the overhang, "Institute of Molecular and Cellular Biosciences".
"Are you hungry? We still have ten minutes before the interview. There's a cafeteria inside," she said, the first time she addressed him in all of their twenty-minute walk.
"We would be late."
"We wouldn't."
When she didn't say anything, Kurama sighed. She didn't sound like she genuinely was concerned whether he'd eaten. "I had breakfast earlier," he said, hopeful.
"Well, I didn't, and you're coming with me," she said, confirming his thoughts, before walking the rest of the way to the door.
She flashed her faculty ID towards the guard and told him of their business. Kurama was asked to sign the logbook and surrender his fake Stella-Bio ID before being given a visitor's pass.
The interior was nothing but impressive, high-ceilinged and boasting glass doors and dividers. The upper stories were accessible through the lifts and staircases, the railed walkways overlooking the wide lobby.
Aoshi turned to a pristine-looking corridor to their right, and Kurama read the sign bearing the characters for their destination with other units along the same direction.
"At least let me get you something," she was saying as they entered the equally large cafeteria filled with scientists on their breaks.
A gnawing settled at the pit of his chest as Kurama felt out of place, even as the occupants abided by the large, bold sign by the door reading, "Come in as a hungry person. Leave the scientist outside." Not a single one wore a laboratory coat.
"A cup of green tea would be nice."
"Is that all?"
"Yes."
They lined up and Aoshi took a tray wordlessly. She indicated their orders, stopping Kurama from getting his wallet with a look. He offered to carry the tray in exchange, which she didn't mind the least bit.
A square table by the wall next to the door was unoccupied, and she pointed at it for them to take. Once settled in their seats, they dug in, and Kurama silently watched her as she ate her bagel and drank her coffee in a hurry.
"You must be very hungry," said Kurama, looking at her over the brim of his cup.
She took a gulp of hot coffee and sighed, "Quite. Life is hectic."
"No wonder you were miffed by that student."
"That," she said, pointing a finger at him, "doesn't have anything to do with missed breakfast."
She finished her bagel and gulped the last of her coffee, taking Kurama by surprise at how fast she'd eaten everything. With a swift move, she wiped her lips with the paper towel, spraying some hand sanitizer on her palms, which she offered to him.
He emptied his cup as well, holding out his hand for her to spray on. They rose together and she pushed the cuff of her jacket to look at her watch.
"We've got three minutes, let's go," she said, hitching her hand bag higher up her shoulder.
She was practically jogging, and Kurama said as he kept up with her, "I knew we'd be late."
"Shut up, we wouldn't," she said over her shoulder, punching the call button. The lift doors opened in an instant, and she let him inside before she punched at the button to close the doors.
Even as she assured him that they wouldn't be tardy, her tapping her heeled foot didn't make her statement ardent in any way. Kurama silently counted the seconds that passed in his head, and when the ding reached them both, they had thirty seconds to spare.
Aoshi was galloping and it took all his reserve to stop himself from laughing at the way she ran on heels even as he almost copied her. The coffee must have kicked in already, even if it shouldn't have just yet.
They took a sharp left and Kurama read, "Human Resources Department" on the door at one side of the corridor where the professor had latched herself onto, panting slightly.
"Professor?"
"Ten seconds," she said, placing a hand on her chest. After a few calming breaths, she straightened herself and tugged at her jacket, blowing a wayward lock of hair from her face.
She pushed the door open and let him inside, bowing to the attendant as she did.
"Ah, Chiaki!" the tall woman said, all traces of formality gone from her tone as she laid her eyes on the professor. "It's good to see you! Finally joining us, eh? Erika will throw a party, that's for sure!"
"It's not like I have a choice, Nao," said Aoshi, smiling down at her friend. Then, jumping slightly as he remembered his presence, she gestured to him with a lazy hand. "This is Matsuda, he worked with me at Stella-Bio. We have an interview with Ozu. Is he in?"
The receptionist nodded at Kurama briefly before turning back to her ledger. "I'm sorry but Ozu's absent today. He called in sick just fifteen minutes ago. But the officer-in-charge should be coming in a few."
Aoshi's nostrils flared, her face falling. "You mean Urawa?"
The door squeaked as someone entered, and all three of them pivoted in their spots to see the familiar, smirking face.
"Yes, Chiaki," he said, his smirk broadening at the sight of a glaring Aoshi. "Are you ready?"
o-o
"Professor, aren't you happy? We've been hired."
Chiaki was seething inside, gnawing at her lip for the better part of the hour. "Happy, my ass. That scallywag's unbelievable. How does he manage to get past every day with a stick up his scrawny ass?"
Even in her low days, Chiaki hadn't used this much language in her speech. But Urawa was such a brat, a reminder why she never wanted to be a full-time researcher and faculty staff at Todai.
It was almost a blessing that he'd consented to interviewing them jointly, as Kurama's ephemeral cool attitude had somehow channeled through and placated her even for just fifteen grueling minutes of enduring an obnoxious, ill-willed bully who didn't care that they had someone unfamiliar in their midst, completely unperturbed as he made his incessant jabs at her.
God, how she loathed him and all of him.
"You hate him that much, don't you, Professor?"
She huffed, crossing her arms. "Oh, yes I do. Hate him with a passion you'll never be able to word."
"Aren't you too old for that?"
"I'm only twenty-seven! He's thirty-two!" she said, offended.
"You must be fairly intimate with each other if you know his exact age."
Her face fell upon realizing that she'd been chewing Kurama's ear off with her ranting. "Why are we even talking about him?"
He shrugged his shoulders and crossed his legs, the picture of a man with nothing else to do but look respectable and sophisticated. There was something about the way Kurama held himself that just screamed feminine.
"I didn't explicitly ask you to talk about him," he said, staring far off the courtyard and the maple trees adorning the length of the university road.
Even as he'd ridden the sentence with any hint of sarcasm, the meaning wasn't lost on her. But he was right, in a way. She'd asked not to speak about him, ever, and yet she'd started at it again.
She wasn't going to dignify him with any form of retaliation.
With nothing else to say, she steered the conversation to one of importance, placing a hand on the stone bench they had occupied a good distance away from the place that had taken sinister to a whole new level since last night's discussion.
"Anyway, I was wondering if I could read the reports on the findings," she said. "I could use the chance to get oriented to all the weird."
"You need to stop thinking about everything that's been occurring that way, Professor. These things should be taken in stride."
"Which is why I'd like to read stuff on them, Master Matsuda," she said with a mock bow.
He looked at her from the corner of his eyes, green irises scrutinizing her. "All right, I'll hand them over to you later today. Also, I haven't told you yet but I need to install some plants in your apartment as well."
"Install? Plants?"
Kurama's lips curled to a small smile. "Oh yes, it's the story for this day. I manipulate plants. That weapon you saw me using the first time you encountered us was actually a whip from the stalk of a rose. Although, we wouldn't need any of that. The plants I'll be installing are for defensive purposes."
Chiaki's head reeled at the sudden onslaught of information she hadn't braced herself to receive. "Wait, what?"
"I keep seeds in my hair, remember?"
"I know that. But keeping seeds in your hair can come with a whole other spectrum of implications."
"Well, now things should be clearer."
"Not crystal."
He sighed, touching the curly bangs adorning his face. "You always need a demonstration," he said, and he indicated the mat of grass under their feet, prompting her to look down.
The flattened leaf blades jumped erect, swaying as the stolon slowly crawled every which way until they touched the stone material of the bench, after which they climbed up, supported by the new substrate.
Chiaki's eyes widened, and she raised her heeled feet off the mass of greenery still wriggling and almost reaching the exposed skin of her feet, hugging her knees to her chest in silent panic as the grass continued exploring the stone they'd anchored themselves onto, minute adventitious roots slipping through the small cracks of the bench.
"Okay, that's enough!" she said, swiping at Kurama's arm, breath rattled. "Stop it!"
The grass stopped moving, and the shoots withdrew, reverting back to their original mowed length. A sigh of relief escaped Chiaki, and she gingerly placed her feet back on the still ground.
"That was scary and fascinating at the same time."
He smiled. "You haven't seen me with my demonic plants."
"I think now's not the right time for that."
"I think so, too. But do you believe me now?"
"Heck, yeah. I rely on observations, remember?"
"Perfectly."
They stared at each other for one, whole moment, before Chiaki rose and dusted her pinstriped pants. "I should get going. I'll see you where?"
"At the diner. Give us a call."
"Okay." She turned to walk away, waving at him.
"And Professor?"
She paused, turning to the less familiar person with his curls and brown hair. "Hmm?"
"Be careful."
He said it with such seriousness and urgency that she felt her heart stop for a second.
Was it this dangerous?
She offered him a small smile and cocked an eyebrow to show that she could handle the pressure. "After choking on ramen? I'll be stupid not to remember that."
A/N:
So that's it for the chapter. I've been meaning to upload this last night as a study break but the site was down for one whole day. Also, I write everything for a reason, so I'm sorry if you think I'm dragging this out. You'll see why I write this story the way I do.
Thank you to everyone who added this story to their faves and alerts! :)
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See you!