hi guys! sorry it's been a while!
I'm getting there on The Edge Of Night...don't worry! finale chapters coming up soon!
hope y'all like this chapter! mostly it's just momadashi and obakase fluff (sorta, it is important to the plot). sorry it's short, I don't have a better stopping point so...:)
*note: while seventeen-year-old tadashi (current tadashi) does still have baby fat and glasses, he grows out of the former by the time he's eighteen, which he will be before the end of the story. he also gets contacts, so by about the middle of shurikens, tadashi has the same canonical appearance he does in big hero 6. don't worry, he gets his abs eventually :)*
also, warning: this story may or may not be a tragedy...all I'm saying is it's almost entirely canon so don't get too attached to our golden trio...
I hope y'all have enjoyed this so far! thanks to dr. wicks and disneymagic for reviewing it means a lot :)
please everyone read and review! I'd love your opinion on this story!
thanks friends :)
peace out!
I stumble into my apartment and collapse on the couch, exhausted. It's been eight hours of finals, and that was only the mid-semester ones—I can't imagine what the final finals will be like.
We will get our scores back in about two weeks, I believe. Until then, I plan to take as much time off as possible. Helping Tadashi study for those tests took a lot out of me, and probably out of him as well. We both need as much rest as we can get before school starts up again on Tuesday.
My phone vibrates, lighting up with a text from Obake, but I ignore it. I don't know how he can still be texting after finals—perhaps he took less classes than Tadashi and I did.
The phone continues to vibrate. I sigh and put it on silent, deciding that I will not allow Obake to disturb me until after I've gotten some rest.
I leave my phone on the counter and head into my room, pulling off my shoes and letting my hair down. Changing into pajamas, I collapse into my floating bed (it is not truly floating, only appearing so due to the lights built into it, but it is rather impressive nonetheless).
Pulling the black comforter up to my chin, I curl into a ball, which for some reason is my preferred sleeping position. I'm uncertain of what that says about me.
Closing my eyes, I sink into sleep, finding more peace than I ever have in the waking world. Perhaps it is better to sleep than to live.
Fire.
The heat sears my skin, but it is not burning my home tonight, as it has for the past three years. This time, I do not know where I am.
Someone is screaming, yelling my name as if desperate for me to do something. Another voice joins it, but this one sounds angrier, harsher. Somehow, I feel like I should recognize the voices, but I do not.
I am gripping something sharp in my prosthetic hand, something that feels dangerous and possibly even deadly. For whatever reason, I do not look down, unsure of whether I wish to know what it is.
And then, suddenly, my arm is rising, preparing to throw the weapon—for that must be what it is. I silently beg myself to stop, but it is too late. The weapon flies from my hand, whistling through the smoky air.
A thunk, a strangled gasp, a soft thud. Something terrible has happened, but I do not know what it is. All I know is that I feel a deep, painful sorrow, the kind that feels like it is tearing through your soul. What has happened?
Suddenly, I am kneeling, and I feel a heavy weight in my arms. Something hot burns against my eyelids, but it is not fire. This feels more…wet, but I refuse to believe that it is tears. I have not cried in years, I will not do it now.
The weight disappears, and I am standing. Words, shouted words, are coming out of my mouth, but I cannot hear what I am saying. I can only imagine how terrible it must be.
Then, I am running, and the fire fades away behind me. Rain is now cascading down all around me, soaking my heated skin, steam drifting away into the stormy sky.
A profound sense of loss and anger and sorrow is burning in my soul, and I can feel my heart freezing again, encased in layers and layers of ice.
This time, I know, it will not thaw.
My eyes snap open, and I gasp. My skin is hot and wet, just as it was in the dream, but I am relieved—and also rather repulsed—to learn that it is only sweat and not the result of a fire.
I kick my covers off and stumble to the bathroom, changing into a clean bodysuit and brushing the tangles out of my hair. I reapply my makeup, making a mental note to myself to replace it soon, as the blue paint is running low.
Pulling out my phone, I glance at the clock. It is eight o' clock, but the sky outside is still relatively light. Perhaps I could go over to Tadashi's and ask him to begin assisting me with the quest for my blades.
But the messaging icon on my home screen catches my eye, and I sigh. I have seventeen messages, most of which are probably from Obake. There will be no questing tonight, not if what Obake has to say is actually important. Sometimes his discoveries are important, but more often, they are of no consequence.
Clicking on the messages, I find several long texts from Obake. Quickly, I scan them, attempting to discern whether they're crucial information or not. My eyes widen as they skim the texts, realizing what this entails.
Hello, Momakase. I am pleased to inform you that I have acquired android parts, and I have just finished constructing a robot. It is incredibly lifelike, and I believe it—she—will be able to carry out many of the missions we must complete. Her name is Trina.
I wish for you to come to my base and meet our new addition. Meet me at the docks at 8:30 tonight. I understand that we have just completed finals, but I believe that this is too important to wait.
Until 8:30, Momakase.
I sigh and put the phone down. Wonderful—I only have half an hour to get to the docks. Obake certainly didn't account for the fact that I had to sleep after finals. Did he actually think I felt ready to get to work on a new science project? Did he actually think I'd be awake?
Boys can be so clueless sometimes. They think no means yes and "get lost" means "take me, I'm yours." They also think that a woman's brain will still be up and running after eight hours of testing. Stupid boys.
Regardless, I finish reapplying my makeup and pull on my boots. Finally, I slip gloves over my hands, then sheathe my blades and set out for the docks.
Darkness slowly begins to fall as I make my way through the streets, neon lights flickering into existence all around me. The sky is overcast, and I can detect the scent of rain in the air—a storm is coming. Wonderful—I'll have to walk home in the rain. Not that I do not enjoy rain, but it is simply incredibly annoying when it seeps into my socks.
When I reach the docks, I walk down to the end and peer into the dark water, hoping the pod is nearing the surface. I do not wish for any one to witness me traveling to Obake's base.
Finally, after about five minutes, the pod surfaces, the smooth white surface breaking the black water like a whale. I step into the pod and draw my blades as it zooms through the water, for some reason more afraid of the ocean in the dark.
After what feels like an eternity, the pod enters the base, surfacing inside. I step out and proceed down the hall to the main room, hoping Obake is not waiting somewhere to leap out and scare me. It doesn't sound like something he would do, but one can never be too careful.
The doors slide open, and I step into the room, where Obake's silhouette sits in front of his green computer screens. Another dark figure stands next to his chair, perfectly still.
"Momakase," Obake says warmly, standing up and turning to me. His face is glowing incredibly bright tonight, evidence of how excited he is. "Come and see our new weapon," he adds, pressing a button on the side of the dark silhouette by his chair.
I cautiously walk over to him and watch as the robot powers up, the dim lighting revealing a female android with long, brown, synthetic hair, pale skin, a rose-colored shirt, and a blue beanie.
"This is Trina," Obake says proudly. "It took me two months to build her, but now she is ready. She'll do so many things for us, Momakase, I know she will."
"A truly fascinating piece of work," I murmur, running my human hand over the robot's arm. The skin almost feels real—it's uncanny.
"She will be our spy," Obake tells me. "When we need someone to be a decoy or gather inside information, Trina will do it."
He catches my eye and cracks a smile. "Not that you are incompetent, Momakase. You are still our greatest asset—after all, Trina cannot think for herself. But it would be unwise not to have more than one operative. Do not fear, though, because I will not be equipping Trina with graphene blades anytime soon."
I can't help but smile faintly back. It's nice to know that Obake still cares.
Trina's eyes open suddenly, and she blinks up at Obake. "Hello, Father."
"What did she just call you?" I ask incredulously.
"Apparently she thinks I'm her father," Obake says, bewildered. "I did not program that—it must be some sort of glitch. Unfortunately, it is most likely in the personality chip, which I do not wish to reprogram—it is too difficult to do so. I suppose I'll just have to be her father for now."
"What is my core directive?" Trina asks, still addressing Obake.
"Wait," Obake tells her. "We were simply testing your capabilities. Power down and await further instruction, Trina."
Trina's eyes close, and she reverts to her sleeping state. Obake turns to me with that handsome smile, and my heart nearly stops.
"The plan is going well, Momakase," he says happily. "Someday soon, we will have our city."
Our city.
Not his city. Our city.
For once, I leave with a smile on my face.
The next morning, I get a text from Tadashi:
Hi Momo! Just wondering if maybe you wanted to go out and look for the blades tonight? It sounds like it might be fun!
Also—thanks so much for helping me study for finals. I couldn't have done any of that without you, and it's probably the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me. You're amazing :)
I allow myself a faint smile and text Tadashi back.
Hello, Tadashi. I do believe that it would be a good idea to search tonight—I have not yet explored several of the warehouses at the north end of the city. We will search there tonight—meet me in Night Market Square at eight.
As for the finals, I have no idea why I did it. I'm just glad you didn't flunk out of college. So you're welcome.
Also, no, it will not be fun. It might be dangerous. So come prepared.
I put my phone in my pocket and get out of bed, quickly showering and then reapplying my makeup. I make sure to cover every trace of scar tissue, wincing at the sight of the puckered skin. Today, the layer of makeup will be extra thick.
Pulling a wipe out of the container on the bathroom counter, I clean my prosthetic hand, making sure to get all the grease out of the crevices. I do not know why I wish for it to be clean today—usually, I do not mind the fact that my hand can be rather greasy.
Fencing and karate practice occupies most of my day, as it usually does on Saturdays. I feel a pang of grief as I remember practicing with Shuto—I wish he were here for me to beat over and over again. Who knows? Maybe by now, he'd be better than I am.
But I'll never know. And that's why I need to find the blades—so I'll have some kind of connection to my family.
When seven-thirty arrives, I pull on my boots and head out. I fully expect Tadashi to be late, so I bring my blade maintenance kit.
I jump on a trolley and pass the fifteen-minute ride to Night Market Square in silence. Once there, I walk over to a bench and sit down, pulling out my blade sharpener. I get a lot of confused looks, but that's normal, so I pay no attention.
Finally, at 8:05, Tadashi runs up, panting and shoving his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
"Sorry I'm late!" he gasps. "I lost track of time—I had to finish my shift at the café. We can go now if you're ready."
"Of course I am ready," I tell him. The warehouses are a few blocks away—we will walk." Seeing Tadashi's face fall, I add, "It should only take about ten minutes."
The walk is spent in almost complete silence, and once we reach the first warehouse, I look around for ways to get in. The door is out—the boards nailed over it are too evenly spaced. I could cut the boards, but despite being as reckless as I am, I do not want to get in trouble with the law for vandalism.
Glancing up, I see a window about ten feet up, with a large stack of cardboard boxes beneath it. The boards nailed over the glass are rather poorly spaced, and I think they may be wide enough for us to slip through. I'll have to pry the window open, but I've done it many times—it should not be too difficult.
"What are you doing?" Tadashi asks curiously as I climb up the stack of boxes, grateful as I realize that there is at least something in them that can support my weight.
"We will enter through this window," I explain. "I do not wish to vandalize the building, so I will simply pry the window open, and we will slip through the boards. Think you can handle that?"
Tadashi nods. "You're so smart, Momo."
I can't help but smile as he climbs up the boxes to stand next to me. Sticking the point of one of my blades into the window lock, I twist gently until I hear a soft click, indicating that the lock has been successfully picked.
"Follow me," I whisper, and I stick my head between the boards, seeing if there is an easy way down from the window. A large shipping container has been shoved against the wall, so it should do.
I slide through the window and drop onto the shipping container, then leap off it and land softly on the floor. Straightening up, I look around at the many shelves and corridors of shipping crates and cardboard boxes. We'll have to explore the whole warehouse to see if Yama's base could be located here—this place is practically a maze.
"Are you coming?" I ask Tadashi, turning back to him. My eyes widen as I see my friend halfway through the window, seemingly unable to get his middle past the tight gap in between the boards.
"I think I'm stuck," Tadashi mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck. "Help?"
I sigh and leap back onto the shipping container, studying Tadashi's predicament. His midsection is trapped between the boards, and his sweater is riding up a little, so I can see the soft, creamy skin of Tadashi's belly. He does indeed look rather unable to move.
"Of course you managed to get yourself stuck," I sigh. "Hang on, I'll get you out."
I grab Tadashi's wrists and pull hard, Tadashi straining along with me, but he doesn't budge. Tadashi kicks his legs frantically, his face slowly turning bright red.
"Would it have killed you to lay off the snacks?" I pant, dropping Tadashi's hands.
"Sorry," Tadashi whispers, his cheeks flushed as he struggles to pull himself free. "I've still got baby fat—I think I'm gonna have a growth spurt, but I haven't gotten taller yet. Do you think you could cut the boards?"
"I do not wish to vandalize the building," I tell him. "Suck it in, and perhaps I can get you out."
Tadashi visibly sucks his stomach in, and I grasp his wrists again. I yank with all my might, and to my great relief, Tadashi pops free of the boards, sending me tumbling off the shipping container. My martial arts training kicks in at the last second, and I manage to land in a crouch rather than on my face or backside.
"Are you alright?" I ask as I stand up. Tadashi climbs down from the shipping container, rubbing his middle.
"I'm okay," he tells me. "I'm really sorry, Momo—I should've realized I couldn't fit. I don't wanna slow you down."
"It's alright," I reassure Tadashi, poking him gently in the stomach. It's softer than I expected—I can feel the slight layer of baby fat surrounding his abdomen. "Perhaps it would be a good idea to consume less junk food, though."
Tadashi laughs, and we set off through the warehouse, navigating between the rows and rows of shelves. The warehouse is perfectly silent, and I somehow doubt that Yama's crime ring is located here, but I wish to make absolutely certain. Plus it's fun to watch Tadashi constantly trip over cardboard boxes.
Eventually, I am forced to conclude that this warehouse is not Yama's base, and I decide that it's time to leave. Perhaps we will have more luck in the other warehouses.
"How're we gonna get out?" Tadashi asks, somewhat nervously. "I don't wanna get stuck again."
"I will find another window," I tell him. "If I can't, you will simply have to get stuck again. Don't worry, I will pull you out if you do. Although I must admit that it was rather entertaining, seeing you wedged in there."
Tadashi rubs the back of his neck, smiling. "Glad I could make you laugh."
I crack a smile and search around the perimeter of the warehouse for another window, hoping I won't have to pull Tadashi through again. Thankfully, I spot one and carefully scale the shelf next to it, unlocking the window and slipping through the boards. It takes Tadashi a few minutes to climb up, and it's a pretty tight squeeze, but he makes it, falling promptly to the ground and landing on his behind.
"You are in sore need of some sort of ninja training," I remark dryly as Tadashi stands up, gingerly rubbing his tailbone.
"Sorry," Tadashi mumbles. "I'm super clumsy. Look, Momo, maybe I should just go home—I'm slowing you down a lot."
"No can do," I retort. "You promised to help me." And I don't actually hate having you around.
Tadashi shrugs. "Fair enough. Of course I'm willing to keep helping you, Momo—I'll try to keep up. But I'm really sorry if I can't."
"It does not matter," I reassure him. "I am simply grateful that you are here. It—it has been a very long time since I had any kind of friend. Someone I can truly be myself around."
Tadashi is smiling again, but it is very different from Obake's heart-stopping smile. Tadashi's smile is like pure sunshine, reaching into my soul.
"I'm really sorry," he whispers, his smile faltering for a moment. "That sounds hard. But—" Tadashi's smile comes back. "I'll try to be a good friend, Momo. I promise."
Great—I believe I have overshared. Next, Tadashi will ask me why I haven't had a friend in so long, and I will have to tell him about Shuto and how Yama took my brother away from me.
"Let us continue," I say abruptly, and we set off toward the next warehouse.
Unfortunately, nothing is found in any of the warehouses, but Tadashi does provide comic relief throughout the search. His clumsiness is extremely entertaining.
We walk back to the bus stop in Night Market Square and hop on the last trolley of the night, spending most of the ride in silence. I glance out at the faint stars hovering over San Fransokyo, their light barely pushing past the wind turbines.
"I wish we could see more stars," Tadashi whispers, and my eyes widen. How did he know I was thinking about the stars?
"Sometimes I go to Utah," Tadashi continues. "My family goes to a national park and camp out there for a night. You can see so many stars—it makes you feel so small, like you're just a speck of dust in the universe."
"But I don't want to feel small," I say softly. "I wish to make a difference in this world."
"You will," Tadashi tells me. "I want to make a difference, too—I want to build a robot that will help doctors, and maybe even revolutionize healthcare. Mostly, I just want to help people. What do you want to do, Momo?"
I glance up at the stars again. "I…I do not know, Tadashi. I know that I must make some sort of impact on this world—I do not wish to be forgotten. I know I cannot pass out of this world without leaving a legacy, or I will never be happy. But I am uncertain of what I want it to be."
That is not the whole truth. I know what I want to do with my life—I need to bring Yama to justice, kill him for destroying my family. It is why I am allied with Obake now—in order to eliminate Yama and his gang from the city.
But then what would I be? All I would be remembered as would be, at the very best, a vengeful sister and daughter, and at the very worst, a murderer.
I'm not sure if that is how I want to be remembered.
Tadashi's voice pulls me back to earth, and I look at him to realize that he is staring at the sky as well, the neon lights of the city reflected in his wide hazel eyes.
"I get that," Tadashi says. "I don't really know what I want my legacy to be, either. But I do know that I want to change people's lives for the better—I just want to be good enough for everyone."
"You are," I whisper, and I feel, for whatever reason, the urge to take Tadashi's hand in mine. But I do not, and I am uncertain as to why. Perhaps I am afraid.
After several minutes, the trolley pulls up to the Lucky Cat Café, and Tadashi stands up.
"This is my stop," he tells me. "Sorry we didn't find anything, Momo. But it was fun to hang out with you."
Tadashi offers me another tiny smile, and I give him a nod. "I am grateful for your help. Same time next week?"
He beams. "Sounds great! See you Monday!"
Tadashi hops off the trolley, pulling his blazer up from where it is falling down off his shoulder. I find myself staring after him as we pull away and Tadashi disappears into the warmly lit café, his figure becoming a mere silhouette against the golden light.
The boy says the deepest things—I do not know where he pulls that kind of philosophy from. For all his bluster and clumsiness, Tadashi seems exceptionally wise for such a young man. I find myself thinking more deeply about his words than anything else people say to me.
I wonder if Tadashi is changing my life for the better, as he so desperately wants to do. I am certainly more open and kinder than I was before meeting him, but I am only that way with Tadashi and Obake. With everyone else, I am still the quiet girl with a metal hand and a heart made of ice. My deepest nature cannot be changed.
Perhaps that is another reason why I did not take Tadashi's hand—it would imply that I harbored some sort of romantic feelings towards him, which I most certainly do not. It is said that opposites attract, but Tadashi and I are so vastly different that I do not believe a relationship between us could ever work out. Him, the sweet, quiet boy with a heart of gold and sunshine, and me, the vengeful, ruthless girl with pain and hatred etched into every crevice of her soul?
It was never meant to be. It will never be so.
I do not know why I suddenly want it so badly.
