Given the times they lived in, all able-bodied Future Foundation members were required to receive combat training, and once her trial period had ended two months ago that had extended to Chiaki as well. So, four times a week she went to the training room, an enormous room divided into two sections—one was the soundproof shooting range, the other was covered in mats and suited for hand-to-hand combat.

The latter was, Chiaki thought as stared at the ceiling above her, gasping in air, perhaps even harder than studying therapy. She had never been a particularly active person; a life playing video games was a sedentary one, and the most energy she ever expended was for playing Dance Dance Revolution. For her first couple of training sessions she hadn't even learned anything; the instructor had taken one look at her and made her do laps and push-ups and other exercises to build muscle and stamina, until her limbs felt like they were on fire.

On the other hand, all those video games, especially shooters, had made her quite a good shot. All she really had to learn was the proper stance and way to hold a gun, and that had been easy enough. After seeing how closely the bullet holes were riddled in her targets, the instructor had quickly decided she didn't need much more gun training. Now she only spent one of her sessions in there; the rest were dedicated to learning proper hand-to-hand combat.

"Get up, Watanabe." The combat instructor, a large woman named Hayami-sensei, nudged her with her boot, and with a groan she complied. The room seemed to spin around her—she must have hit her head too hard when she'd been thrown. Her sparring partner for the day, Honda-kun, gave her an apologetic smile from behind his faceguard as the instructor circled around her, correcting her stance with a sharp nudge here and there.

I hate sparring, she thought as Hayami-sensei finally stepped back with a satisfied nod. But as much as she hated sparring, her desire to get stronger was greater, and even greater than that was her fear. She never wanted to be as helpless and desperate as she had been in that maze, or when those muggers attacked, ever again. And unfortunately, the element of danger still existed.

If Yukizome-sensei finds me, or the Remnants attack, or something…I'll need to know more than just how to protect myself. I'll need to know how to fight.

Not for the first time, Chiaki thought about telling the Foundation about Yukizome-sensei's brainwashed state. And also not for the first time, she reminded herself that she had no proof, that she was just an intern compared to her teacher's high position, and that she would have to expose herself to do so. It didn't stop the twinge of guilt, though.

Because the truth was, deep down, she didn't really want to expose Yukizome-sensei. She was afraid that if she did, the Future Foundation would kill her. And her loyalty to the people she loved, she'd found out, would always outweigh civic duty. So she kept her silence and pretended those reasons weren't also excuses.

A fist whizzed by her face, and only a reflex jerk back stopped her from getting hit. Chiaki realized the signal to begin again had rung while she was lost in thought, and quietly cursed herself for getting distracted. She danced back, avoiding another, and returned one of her own, trying to recall everything she'd been taught so far in the flurry of punches and kicks.

Stay on the balls of your feet, use your hips to add power behind your punches, if you get hit sway with the blow…

"You okay, Watanabe-san?" Honda-kun asked fifteen minutes later, having completely thrashed her in sparring. He pulled his helmet off with a crooked smile; he was all tousled blonde hair and dazzling good looks. "That last punch might leave a bruise…"

Chiaki gingerly poked at her arm, which already had a motley purple blot forming. "I'm fine. It's good you didn't hold back, really. In a real fight, they wouldn't, right?"

He smiled, nodded. He seemed to smile a lot. "Good attitude to have. Hey, some of us were gonna go swimming later today. Wanna come with?"

She gave him a polite smile and shook her head. "No thank you. I think I'll stay here and practice more." The last thing she wanted was to get asked about the puckered pink scars on her arms, legs and torso…not to mention she didn't know how well her wig would hold up in water.

Besides...it wouldn't be fair to befriend the others in her branch. Watanabe Keiko was a lie. She could never be genuine with them.

He shrugged and walked away. Chiaki turned to some of the punching bags hanging from the ceiling, telling herself she didn't really want to hang out anyway.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," Chiaki soothed, smiling. "But I'm here to listen, if you do."

The woman before her was silent; she'd spent the better part of twenty minutes sullen, resisting Chiaki's gentle attempts to coax her to talk. But her demeanor had gradually softened, going from stony resistance to wavering hesitance to reluctant consideration.

Finally, she sniffed, and Chiaki handed her a handkerchief. The woman dabbed at her eyes and mumbled, "I just feel so angry. All the time. It's this dark, murderous thing, just—just this red beast eating me from the inside out. And it's always telling me to go punch something. No, someone. Like I want to walk into a bar and start a fight and not stop until they go home bruised, or I do."

"You shouldn't do that, Ishida-san."

"Why the fuck not?!" The woman leaped to her feet, sudden and violent. "Who's gonna stop me, huh? Or are you gonna tell on me? Call up the police, or the rest of your Foundation buddies? I hear they'll kill anyone they even think is a Remnant nowadays."

"Th-That's not—I wouldn't betray your trust—"

"I've got all this anger inside me and I don't know what to do with it!" The woman's eyes were spilling over with tears now. "I don't want to hurt anyone, but I can't think of any other way to get rid of it! What am I supposed to do, then?!"

Her brain scatted around, desperately trying to find the right thing to say. The right advice to give that would help this woman. But every time she thought of something, she flashed back to her little rallying cry to her classmates, how she'd led them astray. Indecision paralyzed her.

"Well?! Hurry up and help me!"

"I…I'm sorry, I don't know what to say…"

The woman's face twisted with rage, her sorrow disappearing with inhuman speed. "That's it?! I came all this way, paid all this money for help, and all you can say is 'I'm sorry'? I don't want platitudes, I want to feel better! What kind of therapist are you?!"

Chiaki shrank back as blocks of color filtered across her vision, like the screen change in a video game. When they were gone, all that remained was the large VR room, tinted green from her headset. SESSION FAILED, the screen said; text began scrolling by, a transcript of what had occurred if she wanted to review, but Chiaki paid it no mind, shakily removing the headgear and setting it on her desk.

She looked around. A few of the other interns were still sitting in their chairs, eyes fixed on the virtual world playing out before them. Most had also finished, and judging from their slumped postures, they'd failed as well. Part of her supposed it was to be expected; it was the first time they'd been allowed to go through a session on their own, even if just in a virtual reality. Gekkogahara-san was quietly rolling around, speaking to those who were done; even as Chiaki watched the woman wheeled over to her.

For a moment, she was silent as she peered at her laptop, which the simulation would be sending the transcript to. Then she looked up. "Not bad, Watanabe-san. You made a mistake in telling her what she shouldn'tdo; try asking her if she thinks that'd make her feel better next time. A bit of soul-searching usually works better, especially in cases like that."

Chiaki was silent, and Usami's ears drooped. "What's wrong?"

"I failed. I couldn't help her," she mumbled, feeling wretched.

"Well, of course. This simulation is set up to fail." She started, and Usami chuckled at the bewildered look on her face. Then her own grew serious. "You will never help anyone in just one therapy session, Watanabe-san. Scars take time to heal, and that'll frustrate them. They'll probably yell at you. The purpose of this simulation is two-fold: to introduce you to the emotional experiences of being a new therapist, and to show you what areas you need to improve on."

I guess that makes sense… Hadn't it taken Kamukura-kun a while to help her with her depression? And he'd had the Ultimate Therapist talent, too! "So, what do you think I need to work on?"

Gekkogahara-san glanced at her laptop again. "Judging by your results here, you do a good job of getting them to open up to you…but when it's time to offer advice you just freeze. Ueno-kun has also said you always seem hesitant about making suggestions. Could it be you're afraid of saying the wrong thing?"

How could she not be, when her last 'advice' had gotten her entire class brainwashed? When all her attempts to say the right thing to Hinata-kun fell flat? "I just—what if I make things worse?" The right route was always so easy to find in games, a matter of trial and error and pushing the right buttons at the right time. Real life was so much harder, and so less forgiving of mistakes.

"…I'm afraid you can never know for certain whether things will work out. You can only make the best, informed decision possible. Therapists do whatever is in their power to help others, and sometimes things are outside that power, or they don't have the full picture. But a fear of failure shouldn't stop you from trying."

Chiaki sighed. "I know, but it's just…scary."

Usami hummed thoughtfully. "Do you want to hear a story?"

She blinked, taken aback by the sudden change in topic. But Usami looked earnest, and she sensed that she was going somewhere with this, so the gamer nodded.

"Ever since I was a child, I was always good at listening to people. The kids at my school always came up to me just to vent. But I was always too shy to work up the nerve to just…offer advice. Or even talk much at all." Usami chuckled. "My mother used to joke that my ears and heart were so big to compensate for my voice being so small."

Was that normal for parents to do? She had no idea. "What changed?"

The skin around Gekkogahara-san's eye crinkled as if she were smiling under her scarf, a nostalgic look crossing her face. "I had this stuffed white rabbit that I brought everywhere, so I started to talk to them through her. Pretending she was the one counseling them helped give me words. I read books on therapy, studied as much as I could, and soon more and more people started unburdening themselves to me.

"Of course, a child carrying around and talking through a doll is fine, but that stops being acceptable when you get older. But by the time I was a teenager, Usami had become engrained as part of my image as 'Magical Miracle Girl Usami'. So I got some programming lessons and learned how to make an avatar of her instead."

"'Magical Miracle Girl Usami?'"

"Look, I was young, and I was a fan of those magical girl anime, and it sounded cool at the time…" Usami laughed. "But I digress. What I'm saying is…everyone has some insecurity they wrestle with, some obstacle in their way. But if you don't try to challenge it, you'll never overcome it. I know it sounds cliché, but everything starts with belief in yourself. You must have had some, or you wouldn't have joined the seventh branch at all, right?"

"…I guess…" Though wanting to help wasn't really the same as believing she could, Chiaki thought privately. She hadn't realized how much that failed rescue had shaken her trust in her own judgment until now. How could she even hope to regain it?

Gekkogahara-san patted her hand and began to move on, Usami's final words trailing behind her. "Don't be afraid of failure, Watanabe-san, or you'll never even try to succeed. Just do your best—that's all anyone can ask."

Summer bled into autumn, and the weeks passed by uneventfully. Until one day, when Chiaki came home after work and almost jumped out of her skin at the sight of Kamukura-kun waiting outside her apartment door, still as a statue.

"Holy—!" she yelped, hand resting over her heart. "You startled me, Kamukura-kun."

"It was not my intent to frighten you." Which was as close to an apology as he got. "I came because I have a place to take you."

"Whoa, hold on," she chuckled. "It's been four months! Can't we take a few minutes to just…enjoy the moment?"

He looked at her blankly, but said nothing, which she took as a sign of acquiescence. The pink-haired woman looked him over carefully. While they had kept up their correspondence, this was the first time she'd seen him in person since he left. He looked no worse for wear for his time wandering the streets; even his suit was somehow still spotless, and his hair appeared as silky as ever. It was unnaturally hot today, and he'd finally made a concession for it, unbuttoning a single button on his shirt and loosening his tie. It exposed his clavicle, and she stared at the skin there for far longer than it warranted. Who knew clavicles could be so distracting?

Finding him uninjured and in good health, she exhaled in relief. "It's good you're okay." Impulsively, Chiaki darted forward and gave him a hug, a broad grin spreading on her face. "I'm so happy to see you again!"

He patiently waited the hug out, although Chiaki noted that his arms twitched a small fraction, as if he'd almost raised them to return to gesture before thinking better of it. She couldn't help beaming against his chest; he'd never done that before.

"Alright," she said, stepping back, "Thanks for indulging me. Let me get changed into something more comfortable and then I'll follow you."

"Why'd you bring me here, Kamukura-kun?" she asked one train ride later, looking around. Her curious eyes trailed over the boats, all lined up at the dock they were standing on. The port of Tokyo was less active now that the work day was winding down, but there were still a few employees and sailors wandering about. The sharp tang of the sea breeze hung in the air, and the wind blew the black hair of her wig into her mouth. She spat the strands out in disgust and grimaced. It's so hot… The light breeze wasn't doing much more than spreading the hot, humid air around. She was sweltering in just her wig and casual clothes. How is Kamukura-kun managing with all that hair? He didn't look bothered at all, as if unbuttoning one button was all he needed to cool down. Maybe it was.

Instead of answering her question, he posed one of his own. "Have you run into trouble with Yukizome?"

She answered in the negative, adding "You know I would have called you if I had. But she never drops by our branch. I think she's too busy with her own."

"As I predicted." Then he said something unexpected. "Give me your phone."

Chiaki raised an eyebrow, but handed it over. She found herself watching his long fingers as they darted across the screen, typing something in. "What are you doing?"

Kamukura-kun finished typing before answering. "I will not always be here, Nanami," he said, "So I have deemed it necessary to create extra precautionary measures if danger arises."

He handed her phone back, along with a set of keys, and pointed. Chiaki followed his finger to see he'd directed them over to one of the boats. She stared at it; her knowledge on sea vessels was non-existent, so she really had no idea what type it was. There wasn't a sail as far as she could see; didn't they need that to work? It was maybe eleven or so meters, white, the name Second Wind emblazoned proudly on one side.

"This vessel is now yours," Kamukura-kun continued. "That is the key for its engine, and your phone now contains the coordinates to a safehouse. Enter them into the navigational computer, and the auto-pilot will take you to one of the uninhabited Izu Islands. When you arrive, you will find a shelter stocked with enough food, games, electricity, and supplies to last a decade. Should Yukizome discover you, or should the Remnants' activity grow worse, you will have a place to flee to."

Baffled, Chiaki stared, until everything finally sunk in. Her lips parted, forming a silent oh. "That's…what you've been doing these past few months? Building me a place to hide in case the worst happens?"

"Yes."

"Kamukura-kun…" A fuzzy warmth was spreading through her chest. How did he even get a boat? Or all the materials he needed for this? It must have caused him a lot of trouble. "I'm very touched, but…you really can't think I'd just run and abandon everyone if worst came to worst?"

"I calculated the odds of you doing so to be statistically low," he admitted. "However, I was discomforted at the thought of you not having such an option available."

She grasped his hands, looking at him beseechingly. "Don't think I'm ungrateful, because…I'm not. Really. Thank you so much for doing this, all this."

"Your thanks are unnecessary, but accepted." He turned away, boarding the Second Wind decisively. "Follow me; you need to familiarize yourself with the ship and its controls if it is to be of any use to you..."

One head-spinning lesson later, he decided she'd memorized the basics well enough. With one final instruction to refresh her knowledge every so often, he brought her back to her apartment. It was long past dinnertime, and the moon was hanging in the sky; even at night it was still red. Chiaki managed to persuade Kamukura-kun to stay for some instant ramen noodles, then for a two-player video game tournament. He still beat her, but she didn't care—well, okay, she was a little disappointed the strategies she'd crafted in his absence hadn't worked. But Chiaki's happiness to be spending time with him again outweighed that. Besides, reworking strategies was kind of fun too.

When they finished, Kamukura-kun remained seated on the floor, and Chiaki's skin tingled from the feel of his eyes boring into her back as she cleaned up. "Do you want to stay here for the night?" she called over her shoulder, storing the last controller in its drawer. "I'm sure we can squeeze you in, somehow…"

"That is unnecessary. I will find a place to sleep." He made no move to leave, though, and Chiaki thought that maybe Kamukura-kun wasn't quite willing to go just yet. It sent another shot of secret delight through her.

"Alright then. Hey…what'd you think of these games? Did you like any of them?"

"You continue to ask that question even though the answer will always be the same," he observed. "No. They were boring."

"I keep asking because maybe someday it'll be different." She turned around and her lips quirked; Yumigami was nuzzling his hand, needling for attention. "I haven't given up on that."

"Stubborn," he sighed. It wasn't exactly an insult, but it wasn't exactly a compliment either.

Yumigami started to nibble on his sleeve now, peeved at being ignored, and Chiak quickly swooped in to pull her away. Kamukura-kun watched silently. "Tomorrow, I leave for Towa City," he said as she placed the rabbit on the other side of the room.

Chiaki frowned. "Is that safe?"

He gave her a blank look, prompting her to continue, "Well, it's just…a little while ago, Branch 14 asked my branch if we'd be willing to look over some hostages from Towa City. Relatives and friends of Class 78. They'd been held captive by Enoshima, and the survivors were concerned about their mental well-being. But the Future Foundation members that were supposed to bring them never showed up, and then intel said they'd been captured and the city engulfed in violence."

"The riots in that city pose no more threat to me than the ones here," he dismissed.

"Even still, I—" A bolt of inspiration struck her. "Hold on!"

She jumped up and rushed to a small box she kept by her bed. Chiaki wore very little makeup or jewelry, finding them more troublesome than anything, but she was fond of game-related ones. Those she always kept safe. Pulling one in particular out, she hurried back to him and held it out. "Here."

"…Your Gala Omega hairpin?"

Her cheeks felt warm; Chiaki hoped she wasn't blushing too noticeably. "Yeah. It just struck me, out of nowhere, but—I want to give it to you."

He looked straight at her and asked, "Why?"

How was Kairi able to do this? "It's…safekeeping."

"…Safekeeping."

"Yeah."

"Nanami, if you wanted to keep it safe, it would be better off with you."

"Wha—no, no, I don't want you to keep it safe. I want it to keep you safe."

A tiny crease appeared between his eyebrows. "That is not possible. Even if I did not possess all the talents necessary to protect myself, it would still be a hairpin. It is entirely unusable for combat situations, environmental shelter, or medical aid."

"No, I know it can't be used for any of that. But like…think of it like a protection spell, or a charm. It's my favorite hairpin, so you have to bring it back to me. And it'll keep you safe until then so you can." It was the sort of thing girls always did for their love interest in video games, but it suddenly sounded very foolish out loud. She swallowed. "I know it doesn't make logical sense, but…"

"It does not have to, according to you," he sighed. Kamukura-kun looked down at the hairpin again, then gently took it from her fingers. He held it like it was precious as gold, Chiaki noticed with a spark of delight. "Very well. I will hold onto it."

"Good." She scooted over to his side and dropped her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes. She was tired, and he looked comfy, and she'd missed him. "Because you absolutely have to come back."

There are still things I want to tell you…I'm not ready yet, but I will be soon.

As she drifted off to sleep, the last thing she felt was the phantom sensation of his fingers threading through her hair.

A/N: Told you I'd remember that hairpin :D