Chapter 7:
Broken Mirror
Some moments later
[Recommended Music: Aboveground Urban Area B, Shin Megami Tensei IV.]
"-and that's why I kind of snapped. Next time, tell me ahead of time you're sending me to the hounds," Shirogane complains, harshly gulping down the coffee then lifting and munching at a muffing.
Kouzuki simply spins, tapping at her chin. "No promises. Still, your performance was more than interesting. By the by, where did you learn your piloting? Anyone you took after?"
"No one, is how I like to move, both in the game and in real life," he shrugs, taking a pause to drink and wash the sweetness away. "I figured that if I'm always on the move, I've better odds to not get shot down. And since the shields barely work for most of anything, I opted to use two blades instead back in my first loops. Haven't looked back since."
"Hmm, I see… So it's your own form, huh…"
"I know it looks crazy, but really, with enough time everyone will be jumping like I do."
"I'll believe it when I see it," she rolls her eyes, shaking her head. "Yashiro mentioned your emotions grew stirred during the bout, by the way. Was it the shock of realizing you were facing the Valkyries?" she asks in cheer, yet sideglancing him amidst the spins.
Takeru throws himself onto the sofa, lightly biting at his lips. "No, not that. I just… lost my cool for a sec there, so I tried to rein myself in. Tried to stay positive and not react to their words, so I focused on my game and played to my outs."
"…Did you saw or heard any memories?"
"Nothing new, if that's what you're worried about," he shrugs, smiling at the ceiling, chomping the last remaining bits of the snacks. "Just recalled parts of my goal, and decided to stretch my wings a bit. Nice data that harvested for you, didn't it?" he asks with a small smirk.
Kouzuki spins away, resting a cheek onto a softly coiled hand, scratching at her thumb. "Hmm. So you simply were stretching your wings, huh… In any case, you performed above my expectations. Good job, Shirogane. You'll continue to assist the Valkyries in their testings of the XM3, and once we finish the console prototypes you'll get to share their trainings too."
"Sigh… So even less free time, eh? Just keep Hayase off my back, okay?" he asks, hunching a bit.
She smiles back, before drinking in silence. "…You simply do your part, without holding back, and you won't have anything to fear. Well, I'll be going over the recordings of your unit. You should be on your way to your room," she says, waving shoos at the door.
Takeru rolls his eyes, finishing his drink and standing. "I know, I know. Later, Sensei."
Around the same time.
"Hmm… A most interesting development indeed," a small nod he gives, overseeing the papers laid out on the desk.
"All leads on the matter make me believe that your suspicions will truly end up being reality," slowly tipping a hat, a nod is given along a smile.
"I see, unexpected but not entirely unwelcomed," a cough, a slow rearrangement of the glasses, elbows rest onto the wood, leaning forward. "Then, what of the proposed arrangements?"
"It will be done, just as you expected as well. If everything goes according to plan, they will bestow the approval to send the project there shortly. Even the sun shines onto this agreement."
"Is that so… Do you believe the fox will simply relent upon the pressure?"
"Professor Kouzuki is a very hard to approach woman, true, but given her current position she won't be able to reject the proposal, in my opinion."
"And what if she does?"
"Well, some buttering up might be necessary. If I may, I have with me one nice plushie that-" A hand slams against the wood, cutting the chatter in half, masking eyes behind the hat once again, forcing feet to pace about from shade to the moonlight. "We can always count on her resourcefulness. They hold the same wishes as you on this matter, and Kouzuki should be aware of this. Considering what last I heard from her, I do not doubt she'll bite."
"If so, then, you have my agreement to proceed. I expect good news soon. I'll give the orders to my fellows once you confirm the deal on the other end. I suppose they won't mind this arrangement, what do you think?"
"No, no, they'd be mostly pleased with this deal, I believe. Of course, the proper accolades will have to fall on the head of the project, as I'm sure some will ask for…" looking up, halting the pacing, those eyes stare.
Both hands remain still atop the papers, the eyes even more frozen behind the glasses. "A reasonable demand. My wrists are not yet so rusted to prevent a few shared pleasantries or two. She will receive fair boons, be assured."
"Haha, that is good to hear. Makes my job that much easier," a small bow and a smaller tip of the hat is given.
"Enough, don't bother. By the by, may I ask what is in the second folder? I do not recall another report…"
"Cough…That's a special tip, from me to you. Do what you will with it, sir, I am simply passing whispers along."
"Siiigh… Alright, if you say so. I shall be awaiting your call then," a nod is shared, and without as much of a sound the visitor leaves.
With the moonlight falling and fading behind on the readthrough, emptying the entire kettle of tea, previously unblemished edges gain roughness, are bent, then thrown harshly back to the desk.
"Sigh… Is this intel real or just another misdirection?" the whisper rasps when looking back out the window, to the distant and brilliant silhouette of the nearby castle. "I wasn't expecting the pieces to fall down with such ease in such a line, that is true. It is almost too convenient, almost. However, in the end, the resolution is tied to Kouzuki and if she'll agree or not. And while I thought her lost in a dead end, now this…" glaring, scowling at the printing on the papers, soft fingers grab them and push the report to the recycling bin, only little bits left. "Where and why did this 'Shirogane' appear as of now I care not. The only thing that matters at the time is; How should we off him?"
The Next Day
"Hi there, guys. Morning," Shirogane cheers with a nod, trudging through the crowds to his seat on the table.
"Good morning, Shirogane-san," Tamase says, returning the nod yet not the gaze, lost in her breakfast.
The rest, if anything was said it ends devoured by the noise in the PX, much like all those beans and drinks swallowed whole at the same time.
"…What's up? Nervous about the drills?" he asks upon the silence, the avoidant eyes.
A slow, too obvious elbow from Mitsurugi causes Sakaki to cough, tap her glasses yet not dull her firm expression nor return Takeru's gaze fully. "You could say so, yes. Say Shirogane, are you… available tonight?"
"Hm? Not on the evening, but I've some free time after dinner. Why?" he throws back, playing along with a smile.
Sakaki still remains rock gray, stiff gray. "We usually gather here when free to share some leisure time. I believe Mitsurugi told you as much yesterday?"
"Ah, yeah. Thanks for inviting me, I'll be here then. Only, Kasumi will come pick up later on, probably."
"So I assume you've more tasks to fulfill?" Mitsurugi asks, slowly picking at her food as he nods. "I see… Might I ask why you refer to her so informally?"
"Hm?" Takeru's brows cross, taking a second to gulp and wipe his mouth, he then shrugs. "I mean, it's how I call her, and she gets to do the same to me. Fair's fair. What about it?"
"She… talks to you?" Tamase asks, spoon suspended in midair, blinking fast.
"Yeah. You know, not a lot but Kasumi does talk. Forgive her if she comes off as cold, she's simply too direct," he asks with a slight bow.
"…Such a good fellow."
"Ayamine, please," Mitsurugi asks, sighing, grayness loosening while running a hand into her hair. "In any case, I hope you're prepared Shirogane, for we take pride in the records we've established in our nightly rounds of games," she says with a strong nod, breaking the symmetry of her fringe, which causes her hands to quickly scuttle to reorder it.
Takeru can't help but to chuckle at the sight, causing some beans to go down the wrong tube, requiring the hasty aid of water to prevent a soft reset.
"There was no need to gulp so much food at once, was it? Your meal shan't run," Mitsurugi scolds, shaking her head.
"S-Sorry, it was just funny, seeing you prop your hair like that," he deflects, still chuckling, causing the others to either sigh or look away.
"…I see," Mitsurugi simply relents, slightly tilting her head.
In mundane words did the final moments of breakfast pass by, before the cadets moved out and about to their duties, into the sun of the trackfield. The touch woke their arms to focus, away from the chilly air of the shade, yet the stare awaiting by the lines only further imprinted the coming coldness of November, already skirting the horizon. All idle banter is cut dry, banished as they form a line and salute, solid as statues in front of the gorgonic glare.
Only one clears the initial morning run as intended, the other four hunch over, haunted by the yells and the sweat rivers collapsing their breaths. Even the little stopwatch on the Instructor's hand, shaky hand is sweating under the choking hold it suffers as the girls hustle under the shine.
"The next assignment will be CQC fighting. Today, we shall focus on using swords," the Instructor says, walking in front of them yet sparing not a gaze, dropping a small box with a few bamboo blades on it. "Since on this area there's an uneven level, we shall have you sparring a pair at a time so that the rest can watch and learn. Mitsurugi, take point."
"Yes, ma'am!" she immediately answers, grabbing a sword and stepping into the trackfield.
"Now then, the rest of you will face off with her one at a time, and later on among yourselves. First off, Tamase!" she calls out, chin rising to stare.
The girl in question whimpers a plea to the Heavens, walking in robotic, rusting steps to the crate to cradle a sword. One final look she gives to the Instructor, the smirking nod crushes what held moistness away from Tamase's eyes, already wide and blank, wordlessly screaming. An origami knight would possess a more sturdy complexion than hers in front of Mitsurugi, truth be told. Yet, much like paper in front of the wind, poor little Tamase is left torn to pieces on the dirt, scattering away to the skies and begging for mercy in mere moments.
"Buckle your knees!" the Instructor, however, does not seem keen on giving respite much less patching the torn edges. "Watch your steps, don't give away your next move. Return to form and start again."
"H-However, Instructor, I don't-"
"Did I stutter, Tamase?"
"N-No, ma'am! Awawa…" gulping stiffness down the desert, again that little doodle sharpens for the drill.
And is swept under the rug, all semblance of poise and pace erased. The rest don't truly fare much better besides forwarding brute force or dodges when in front of the gale, yet perhaps Tamase was smarter than Sakaki and Ayamine both. Knowing which fights to quit early saves her the strain, the myriad strikes landing on bare skin and confiscating their breath away. Like Tamase before, them both scatter to pieces in front of the current of slashes.
"Siiigh… No progress, huh," Marimo shakes her head, rubbing her nose' bridge when admiring the still pristine and sweat-free form of Mitsurugi. "Shirogane, your turn. You three, watch carefully, especially the footwork," she advises, nodding once, and the other three parched remnants return the gesture.
"Come on, it's not that big a deal… I don't think they'll be able to beat Meiya any time soon," he says, shrugging back in sympathy with a thumbs up.
"That may be so, but we still need to improve," Tamase says, wailing in a downcast nod, picking at her nails. "Can't even land a single hit yet…"
"…You don't look scared, Special-kun," Ayamine affirms, eyes squinting as she rubs her belly, lips shrugged hard. "Think you'll fare better, eh?"
"Ahem," Sakaki glares, resting a fingertip on the rim of her glasses, "he's certainly shocked, it's the first time Mitsurugi shows off her full skills in this area since he arrived. Shirogane won't have it easy… right?"
Takeru gulps and nods under the unblinking look, chuckling while grabbing the hilt, lightly jogging into position. On the corner of his sight, those three were still staring. Ayamine whispers something, earning an elbow from Sakaki and a hasty deployment of the Tamase shield in between them to prevent a flood of fists. A slow stomp of the Instructor's boot silences them again, also straightens Mitsurugi's posture in front of him, into a slow Kasumi pouncing stance. Firmer than before, purple embers already flying off under the shade her fringe gave.
The whistle is blown, the heads of the spectators too when parries and ripostes saw off the air. Conceding not a single step, Takeru lunges forward to meet the aggro, only to curve and step back into a feint.
"These movements, this form of pressure…" Mitsurugi plants her feet, blocking the true strike, a shiver cruising down to her ankles in front of patterns and sequences her body almost instinctively knows how to counter. "And so do you, apparently," she notes as her own offense is mirrored, defended with minimal waste of breath and pace.
As if she were a bird diving into the sea, talons at the ready to tear into jumping fish, Mitsurugi throws a kick, then rushes forward with a slash that could part waterways in half. In retaliation, Takeru stops and holds his ground, minimizing movements, a scarecrow undaunted by the incoming downpour. Fending her off in contention, small but sharp steps aside, as if merely tracing the rim of the floor, opposed to the elegant dance, the hawkish dive of her slashes and cuts.
"As fierce as ever, one mistake and I'll get cut in half again, dammit," he complains inside, the tiniest curl in his lips to a smile as he returns the friction, both of their swords growing intimate in a few successive strikes, that she deflects with some oomph.
"Why? Why can't I pierce it? And why are you smiling?" she wonders, taking a step back, not pushing the advantage. He doesn't come after, allowing both a small breath, the same for the gallery. It makes those fair hands wring the living daylights out of her bamboo sword before once more chasing after that defense, that tiny, tiny smile.
Light enough to not even affect a candle's flame in their stride, potent enough to splinter a branch in twine, Mitsurugi's frontal assault, single-lane advance and retreat is deflected in slow, singular parries, as if she were but excess dew dropping off a leaf. Her strikes, the river that was her way of fighting had to remain unimpeded until reaching the shore of Shirogane, yet more and more rocks disperse her breath, her stride dwindling. Shoulders and wrists hurting, piked and hunching over a bit, much like he was as well.
"Left or right, there is no dent in the form… It is polished well, even if a bit too conservative. However, if you raise such a challenge my way, allow me to answer you," Mitsurugi then inhales, and inhales as her legs close, raising her blade above her shoulder, into the stance imparted by her oldest companion.
It's enough to send Takeru's breath the way it came, and make his stomach wail at the implication. So he also pressed his heels onto the ground as the purple embers take on Mitsurugi's aura whole, and rush forward to burn it all in half.
In a singular, fluid motion.
So slow and delayed the hands barely register the movements.
Only after the ears pick up on the whistle through the wind.
Only then does Mitsurugi look up, up into the clouds sliced in twain. By her own blade, sent to high five the sun.
Lips weave syllables and fails, fingers try and stitch a melody in an air piano but find no success. Turning around, the inner silence of breaths stalls further when seeing Shirogane heaving a sigh while rubbing his own stomach, comical waterfalls falling off his eyes. And a small clearing of sky right behind him, from which another sword was falling down, this one chipped, dented.
"I, how, what… what did just happen?"
"I dunno, but I'm still alive, so I'll take it as a dub!" Takeru declares, raising an uppercut and a nod to the sliced sky.
"…A dub?" she asks, tilting her head slightly, blinking a bit as he cheers to himself.
The whistle blows again, in slow steps Jinguuji approaches the duo, that then stands in attention. "I suppose this counts as a draw. I knew you were good, but to be on Mitsurugi's level…" she approaches Takeru, patting his shoulder and nodding, slowly, "You never cease to amaze, Shirogane."
"No, ma'am, I was only doing my best not to die," he returns with a sharp salute.
"Please, there's no need for such exaggeration, even if Mitsurugi is very skilled," the Instructor says, nodding to her as well.
"My prior lives beg to differ, Marimo-chan…" he pouts inside, rolling his eyes a bit.
"In any case, Shirogane, you're next against the rest. Mitsurugi, you're on a good track. Keep up the good work," giving one final nod, Jinguuji turns and walks back to the rest, that were still stunned to silence.
Due to the embers still sparking away from those azure eyes, that squint and search for that lazily sighing shape. "…Shirogane."
"Hm? What's up?"
"Were you being serious on this training?"
"Of course I was, I don't like getting slashed in half, you know?"
"I wouldn't have inflicted you any such wounds, however."
"Tell that to Tama," he shrugs, pointing to the bandages covering half of the pink in the head of said squadmate. Shrugged lips are met with an open chuckle morphing to coughs, Takeru simply nods back with both hands behind his back. "You must chill, Meiya. It took my all just to match you right now."
"…So you claim you fought me with your full strength now?"
"I mean, yeah? What can I say, I did my best. You really are a fierce opponent to face, huh," he offers with a small smile.
She remains blazing, reflecting back not an ounce of the shimmer in his smile. "That last move, your form then… Where did you learn it?"
"Huh? Oh, nowhere in particular. I fight how I think it's best, really."
"Is that so… By the by, do you know what… Mugen Kidou means, perchance?" she asks, a step closer.
A sharp gulp, ice down the throat, ants down the spine. Takeru looks up, messing with his hair, shrugging. "Ah, no, doesn't ring a bell. What's that?"
"Mine own style. Do you not possess one, a school you were taught in regarding your swordsmanship?"
"…No, not really." I never actually got to 'graduate' from my kendo lessons under your family in that damned mountain, and my efforts back home last time didn't finish too. Can't exactly call myself a user of the Unending Waterfall style the way I am now… Not like I'll ever get Sifu to finish my training," Takeru sighs, flattening his tank top, breathing too, when recalling the bruises, the sore patches left in him when in front of the coldest night behind the glasses.
The sunken shift does not go unnoticed, Mitsurugi takes a sharp step back. "My apologies, was it something sensitive?"
"Ah, no, for real. I just… don't have a style to call my own, I couldn't finish my lessons before I had to leave. Someone was teaching me as a favor, is all, so I don't know if my way of fighting has a name," he nods, shrugging and closing an eye. "Necessary bullshit is necessary. No wonder she noticed, but no way I can tell her who I learned from."
"…I see," is all she gives, staring at him top to bottom, arms folding for a moment.
"Mitsurugi!" until the Instructor yells, tip of the boot stomping away. "Stop flirting with Shirogane and get here already!"
"I-I am doing nothing of the sort, Instructor!" she complains, fists balling up as she returns to the rest.
"Save your excuses and go to the taps if you want. The training must go on. Tamase, you're next."
"…Y-Yes, ma'am," the small girl whispers to the dirt, snailing her way to Takeru, who nods slowly in sympathy.
And while much slower he moves, allowing byplay to exist in the exercise, the purple embers do not lift off the azure, nor does the azure lift off the patterns drawn by the light brown.
"…So what's your judgment?" Ayamine asks, covering her mouth.
"You saw it yourself, didn't you?" Mitsurugi shrugs, expression tight, on his footwork.
"Did he truly match your skill?" Sakaki asks, stepping closer.
"I know not," she sighs, fingers clawing at her elbows. "Shirogane never attempted to aim for my vitals. His stance was merely defensive, as if he were frightened, until the very last moment. Then, that final strike seemed to be on par with mine own, yes."
"Tch… Told you this guy was rotten."
Sakaki rolls her eyes, arms folding."Ayamine, please, not again. There's-"
"There's nothing to talk about. Who on Earth could face off against Mitsurugi and not lose? Certainly not a cadet."
"I am not disagreeing, but now's not the time," she whispers through her teeth, brows pointing to the Instructor.
"Then, what? We just ignore that he can match Mitsurugi's skills with such ease? What's next, huh?"
"Ahem…" a hand brushes the fringe, facing back, back to the duo that is already sparking away. "Kindly allow me some time. I wish to confirm something before casting my final opinion."
"Mind telling us what?" Sakaki asks, tapping her glasses.
"…No, please, let me handle this on my own," she asks, until they relent a nod.
"Fine… Just, answer me one thing. Could he truly be almost as proficient as you in terms of swordsmanship?"
"…You saw the result of our duel, did you not? At the end of things, we were evenly matched, to the smallest detail." Even if he claims not to know of what he employed then, she remarks, again blazing into a frown when observing the steps, silencing the other two.
Twice he was not exerted, in contention Takeru deflects all attempts to trip his feet, pace and rhythm during the rest of the training. Unlike the samurai, however, a veil of sweat permeates his shirt and hair, enough to having cough and wipe it off. And while he still smiles and nods to his comrades after each bout, immutable they remain, silent in their scanning. Except Tamase, who's slumped on the ground, picking the fragments of her wails off the wind.
Despite the small applause the Instructor gives by the end, he still tastes the salt of silence, those blazing gazes that accuse and nothing else.
And no jest can lift the smoke or even a crack in the facades as they're dismissed.
"…Sorry, Shirogane-san, I'm too tired for jokes today," Tamase says, cradling an elbow and looking down, away, while almost trading paint with the wall.
"Come on, lighten up a little. If you can't beat a rival frontally, there's a few ways to-"
"Save the humble bragging, will you?" Ayamine protests, picking up speed, bolting past Takeru and elbowing him on the way.
"H-Hey, what was that for?!"
"Not in the mood for your gloating, Special-kun."
"I'm not, for real. Come on, I'm just lending you guys-"
"Perhaps, you should know when to call it quits," Sakaki comments, giving him a sideglance. "There's a time and a place for everything. Stop it, Shirogane. We already are aware of how better you are."
Steps stall, shoulders sag, words rust and limp about. "But I'm… I'm just…trying to help you guys?"
"Ahem," Mitsurugi lightly hits his arm, shaking her head. "Your intentions might be noble, but I, too, believe you should abstain. If you're not a master, then you've no right to share your teachings with anyone."
"Oh, come on, now. We're training together, and it's only a few tips. Ain't no big deal, is it?"
Narrowness overflows to fire as Mitsurugi's steps halt, focusing fully onto him. "Shirogane, your form denotes much training, a polished style. Referring to it as 'no big deal' is not only a disservice to your tutors, but an affront as well. To us as well, if you're 'not so good' then what are we in comparison?" she asks, venom slithering out when looking away.
"H-Hey, it's not like-"
"Plus, if your advice is of so little consequence, why would you bother sharing it?" Ayamine says from up ahead, hands behind her head.
"I just want to share with you what works for me, no need to get all defensive, for real."
"Well, we've got Mitsurugi when it comes to advice. We don't need your tips, for real," she scalds, glaring back before rolling her eyes and storming away.
Sakaki simply looks away, ignoring the claim, Tamase compacts further and steals gazes at everyone at a time. While she glares slightly at the one pacing ahead, Mitsurugi simply shakes her head to Takeru once more in stiff, solemn movements, a few embers remaining in the quick pace she forwards when resuming her march along the rest, sparing not another word, not another gaze.
Takeru, however, does not follow after. Frozen on the spot, looking down, out of the window he remains. Rubbing his forearm, the sting on it, recalling older bouts and trainings, seeing himself slayed in half across the dirt, a chuckling aid offered from where now only fire echoed about. Not even a quarter of a smile can he lift when young Yashiro waddles through the hallways, looking for him, quickly sagging her shoulders at the lack of yellow.
It took him a long time to regain that shiny cheer on their way down, it took them even longer, reaching the PX for the girls to realize he was no longer walking with them.
A/N: As I was trying to jam a lot of stuff from the older versions into one single chapter, I realized it was again getting close to 10k words. So, I split it up in two. While it slows down the 'pacing', it also gives a better reading flow and an easier stop point to not have a thousand things happening. Rather than rushing it, feels better to slowly build up the incoming mess with small bits of seasoning every chapter.
Thanks for reading, and keep staying safe.
Zuoriel