Chapter 3
x
"You did what?" Muta and Toto chorus as one. Really, Baron notes as he waits for their outrage to simmer down, the Bureau would be unstoppable if they could work together like that all the time. It takes... longer than usual for their ire to break down into general disgruntlement.
"She's better off this way – safer, happier–"
"Furious, I imagine," Muta adds.
"And heartbroken," Toto offers.
"I mean, what were you thinking?" Muta rages. "She admits she's in love with you, and you kick her out for it?"
"I didn't... I didn't 'kick her out'–"
"Oh really? 'Cause I'm struggling to think of another term for pushing somebody outta the door and then changing the locks on them."
"I didn't push her out," Baron says, and even he can hear the petulant tone. "I made sure she was recovered enough to leave before escorting her out."
"Congrats, what do ya want, a medal?"
"She's been in love with you for some time now," Toto says. He perches atop the Bureau's inner balcony and stares balefully down at Baron. "And you with her. What changes now that she admitted it?"
Baron mumbles something beneath his breath.
"What was that?"
"I said I hadn't realised before."
Muta guffaws, pointedly at Baron's expense. "Come on, I know you ain't always been the sharpest knife in the drawer when it comes to romance, but even you must've seen the signs."
"We've even had clients asking," Toto supplies.
"I didn't want to see it."
Muta groans. "Why not? She loves you – you love her – what's the issue?"
"The issue is that I do love her!" Baron snaps. Something breaks inside him with the admission finally said aloud – it feels suspiciously like his heart. He slows his breath, softens his voice as best he can, and sinks into an armchair. (Haru's blood still stains the armrest. Given the Sanctuary's usual penchant for tidying up, it feels like a deliberate reminder.) "Because when I could pretend that my feelings went unreturned, I could ignore them," he says. "I could choose not to see the ways it made us both reckless."
Muta snorts. "Like you've ever been anything but reckless."
"But I'm a Creation, Muta. I won't... break, not the same way, not as easily, as Haru. And in this line of work..." He recalls the metallic scent of her blood, the way it had clung to his fur, no matter how often he washed his hands. "Being involved with the Bureau is hazardous enough; being romantically involved would make it an unacceptable risk." Before either can argue, he adds, "You know we have made enemies, before and during Haru's time with us. If any of them came looking for revenge..."
"They'd go for the lone human," Toto finishes.
"Especially if word got out that she and I were together."
"So that's it?" Muta demands. "You're throwing her out to, what, keep her safe from some unknown threat?"
"Isn't that enough of a reason?" Baron asks tiredly.
"Did Chicky think it was enough of a reason?"
Baron was silent.
"Nah, I didn't think so."
"I thought her absence was merely her recovering," Toto says, almost entirely to himself. "I didn't think you had actually..." He shakes his head. "So what do we do now?"
"Do?" Baron echoes.
"Yes, do," Toto snaps. "In case you didn't notice, you've made a thorough mess of the situation and now it needs resolving. You can't just..." He shakes his head again, curter this time. "How are we going to rectify this?"
"We're not going to do anything," Baron says. Don't they understand? "We're going to leave Haru alone so she can resume her human life before we so rudely interrupted. Are we clear?"
Toto stares down at him. "Crystal."
x
"So what are we going to do?" Muta asks, the moment Baron is out of earshot. "We ain't just about to abandon her, no matter what he says, right?"
"Of course not." Toto ruffles his feathers, righting his wings in preparation for takeoff. "You're going to keep Baron distracted while I find Haru and get her side of the story. Then we can make plans to resolve this."
"And I'm the one babysitting the moron because...?"
Toto flaps his wings. "Because I can cover a lot more ground than you, and I'm the one making the plan so I get to choose."
Muta grumbles, but it is a sign of his worry that he doesn't argue any further. "Just make sure she's okay. She's more like Baron than either of them like to admit; she's probably run into some fresh nonsense while our backs were turned."
Toto's beak curves up into a smile. "I'll bring her home, Muta."
x
Haru doesn't even really see the button eyes anymore, not really.
Oh, she doesn't exactly forget but – well, it's the same way she doesn't really note Baron's feline face nor Toto's feathers. They are a part of the people here, a fond feature; it no longer makes them other, it just makes them them. And the Other Baron is expressive enough in a way her local Baron never quite was – at least where it mattered – that makes it delightfully easy to read him.
When she visits again, she knows he has good news before he can say a word; his movements are quick, excited, and he steers her into the Bureau with hands that tap along her shoulders.
(The Baron she had once known had never been quite so easy around her; contact had been cautious, concious, especially as her time with the Bureau had progressed.)
Nothing can prepare her, though, for the person seated on the sofa.
The Other Hiromi squeals as she leaps to her feet, soles barely touching the ground as she cannonballs into Haru. Laughing, the Other Baron releases Haru, a hand gracing her shoulder just long enough to ensure she isn't about to topple at the force of the embrace.
"You're alive! You're here! This is crazy, my god, we have so much to catch up on!" the Other Hiromi cries. "Baron told me you'd returned, but it seemed too good to be true!" Her eyes, like everyone else's, are buttoned. The thread running through them have a hazel sheen.
"Hiromi? You're here? But I thought–"
"In this world, you made the decision to include those close to you to your secret life," the Other Baron explains, correctly reading Haru's confusion. "Or not-so-secret, I guess," he adds with a smile. "Not to those who matter, anyway."
Haru holds her Other friend close, and for the first time in a very long time, there are no secrets between her and Hiromi. And all it took was stumbling into a whole Other world.
"So how are things?" Other Hiromi demands. The Other Baron is across the room from them, deliberately engrossed in a book. Other Hiromi lowers her voice conspiringly. "Enjoying being back with the Bureau?"
Haru glances at the Other Baron. He acts as though he doesn't notice. "How much has he told you about me?"
"Only that you come from another world – hence why your eyes are..." and she gestures to her face, "you know. And that the Baron from your world kept his cards much closer to his heart." She raises an eyebrow. "As did you, apparently."
Guilt settles on Haru's shoulders. "Things... worked out differently in my world. I didn't want to drag you into all this – to make you worry–"
"So you hid it all instead. Very adult of you."
"I wasn't sure you'd believe me!" Haru insists. "I mean, I'm not sure I'd believe it if I wasn't living it, and I actually talked to cats when I was a kid! And then, even if you did believe me, you'd probably just worry about me whenever I was off on a case, and I didn't want you to come wading in after me–"
"And if something did happen to you?" Other Hiromi asks. "Was I just meant to live the rest of my life wondering what happened to my best friend?" She curls her hand around Haru's, anchoring them together. "Don't you see how much better things are here, where I know the truth? Where you don't have to hide where you are or what you're doing?"
Haru has to admit, there is a lightness in her lungs, a happiness bubbling away, at the ease in which the two sides of her life have impossibly come together in this strange world. She sighs, and drops her head on the Other Hiromi's shoulder. "I must admit, if I had known how simple it would be, I'd have told you a long time ago."
"Yeah, well it seems like you made all the best decisions in this world," the Other Hiromi teases. "Guess you need buttons for eyes to see clearly, huh?"
Haru laughs, and in that moment there is a strange shift. A breeze ripples through the Other Sanctuary and rocks the hanging basket outside the window. Haru lazily watches it, distantly aware she hasn't felt a breeze in this Other Sanctuary before. She rolls her head back, ready to ask the Other Baron if all is okay, only to see he has frozen. Without eyes, it is impossible to tell whether his gaze is unfocused, but there is an uncanny stillness to him. It puts Haru in mind of the figurine he was carved from.
Fingers tighten around hers, and she snaps her attention back to Other Hiromi.
"Go home," her friend whispers. "Please."
And then the wind drops and the white-knuckle grip around Haru's wrist releases her, and it's enough to make her wonder if she imagined it.
"She's right," the Other Baron says. That uncanny stillness has fled from his form, and he is once again the Other Baron she has come to know so well. And it is this knowing which betrays an edge of unease in him. "You should head home. It looks as though there is something abroad in the Sanctuary today."
"I can help," Haru protests.
"Any other time, I would accept, but this might be of a..." and his mouth twists, "personal nature."
His artisan, Haru thinks, and she understands. She has met Baron's artisan of her own world, no longer the impassioned apprentice who had crafted a pair of cat figurines with all his heart, but an embittered man, fighting against the tide of time by whatever means necessary. He has a possessiveness over his Creations, one which extends to meddling, regardless of whether he was invited.
She can understand why – if he is indeed the visitor – the Other Baron wants to keep her presence a secret. She nods, and gathers her stuff together, stealing one last hug from Other Hiromi before she goes.
There's always next time.
x
The Bedlam lets the puppet strings slacken and the marionette falls limp.
Curious.
His attention had only been distracted for a moment, and the puppet had slipped past his control in that time, urging his prey to flee and almost costing him his meal. He is not angry though – no, the puppet is his creation, and any fault is his. He must have been the one to err in his spinning.
He runs the web through his fingers, testing it for weakness and finding it flawless. The marionette is perfectly crafted, an echo of the best friend, tweaked only in her knowledge of the Bureau and its occupants. She is everything his prey wants her to be – caring, teasing, boisterous, no barriers between them – just another temptation to draw her further into his world. There is no reason the puppet should have acted out.
Even so, perhaps some editing won't go amiss... just to make sure there's not a repeat of today. He recovered it well enough – well enough that he's sure the human will return once more – but there's no point making unnecessary risks.
He discards the puppet. There will be time to weave it into better shape later.
Now though, it's time to see what meddling creature has been caught in his web.