Lo-fi. The ambient, rhythmic tunes of lo-fi was the only way Lanfen could ever bring herself to fall asleep. It was also the lone method which could wake her up without giving Lanfen the urge to strangle her alarm clock. Like droplets of water from a drizzle of rain, each gentle beat pattered against her hearing, slowly weaving together the cracks in Lanfen's consciousness. When she managed to lift her heavy eyelids, the woman was greeted by her apartment's plain ceiling, a mundane view she gratefully welcomed along with the comforts of a warm futon. A compulsion to hone her fighting techniques subsequently arose in Lanfen's mind. The stinging sensations she quickly felt across her body sadly dispelled any chances of doing so.
Stifling a brief wince, the Adaptor gently pulled herself into a sitting position. The motion was slow enough to prevent her bandaged wounds from reopening outright.
A cursory peek beneath the blankets showed Lanfen that she was partially still in uniform, with the obvious exception of her scarf, boots and everything she had worn on the top half of her body. Medical wraps concealed her torso, preserving some level of modesty while her sealed injuries recovered. Shifting her attention over to the living room's shelves, three hours had apparently passed since Lanfen received her call-to-action. The sounds of pots and pans could also be heard from the kitchen. Staring back at her wounds, Lanfen soundlessly sighed at her body's obvious inability to train in its current state. A bothersome realization. But her capability to even move was impressive nonetheless. The medical technologies of both S.O.N.G. and Task Force Harmony were surely not to be understated.
"Jiang," a voice softly exclaimed, prompting Lanfen to swing her gaze over to the kitchen doorway. Concern could be seen all over Shinonome's half-concealed face as she stood there with one hand held over her mouth. Before the Adaptor could even formulate a response, Shinonome rushed over to her side and settled a pair of trembling hands on Lanfen's shoulders, swiftly tucking the injured woman back into a futon's soft blankets. "Although the others assured me that you will be alright, please refrain from moving too much!"
Was this the first time Shinonome ever raised her voice, Lanfen wondered, resting her aching head again atop a pillow. While her wounds weren't as agonizing as earlier on in the day, Shinonome had a point. So, Lanfen showed no resistance when her fretting companion forced her back into the same position she had woken up in. Shinonome let out a huff soon after and knelt down on the floor beside the groaning Adaptor. "... Godai and Ayano," Lanfen murmured, "where are they?"
"They were with you the entire time your injuries were being treated," Shinonome explained, placing a hand on her pale-white cheek. "They came by earlier to drop you off before mentioning a task related to 'needing to stay back and investigate the area,' or so Godai claimed. They will be returning later, so they asked me to watch over you till then." The distress in her tone was transparent. No amount of forced civility from Shinonome made it possible to hide it. "My apologies. I simply... did not expect you to come back in such a state."
Lanfen gave a dry chuckle and a small shake of her head. "I'm fine," she hoarsely insisted. "I just ran into some tougher enemies, that's all." Lanfen's nonchalance probably made her look ridiculous considering the obvious state of her battered body.
On top of the kotatsu table behind Shinonome, Lanfen's wrist device, relic pendant, and smartphone were all neatly arranged on its wooden surface, essentially bathing under the mid-noon sunlight which poured in through the room's windows. The Adaptor tried her best to let her wounded frame remain still while Shinonome wordlessly sat at her side. With Task Force Harmony having officially revealed themselves, Lanfen admittedly found it easier to focus on her recovery when there were now individuals other than herself to protect Japan from the Distortion incursions. Shinonome's presence certainly contributed to the recuperation of Lanfen's ringing skull - not that she would outright admit it, of course.
As lo-fi from the living room's holo-player chased away any possible silence, Lanfen noticed Shinonome's thumbs awkwardly intertwining around one another above her quiet companion's lap. The way Shinonome's golden eyes aimlessly wandered around their surroundings subsequently brought out a hush remark from Lanfen. "Something on your mind?"
The silver-haired woman subtly flinched.
Withdrawing her fidgeting hands away from each other, Shinonome brought them over to her sides, all while avoiding Lanfen's exhausted gaze. "I suppose so," she quietly admitted, peering out the nearest window to observe the falling snow outside with pursed lips. "But it simply doesn't feel right to bring it up when you're... all hurt like this."
An amused scoff ended up escaping Lanfen. Questions during inopportune moments were unfortunately a part of her life ever since she chose to come out of the proverbial closet. "There's nothing for me to hide, Shinonome," Lanfen affirmed, resting a pair of bandaged hands atop her aching, blanket-covered chest. "Especially after last night. I'm not going anywhere soon like this, so... there's really no better time than now if you need to say something." The unease on Shinonome's expression did not wither in spite of Lanfen's attempted informality.
About a full minute went by before Shinonome finally spoke up again. The trepidation in her hush syllables was clearer than polished glass.
"Ever since last night, I was wondering about something," Shinonome began, twirling a strand of silver around one finger. "... A matter which I could not ask about without fear of potentially upsetting you." As Lanfen patiently listened on, Shinonome glanced over to the kotatsu table, placing her sights on the Adaptor's wrist device. "But I still wished to know," she hesitantly resumed. "So, after you returned, I picked up that instrument of yours... and went through several of S.O.N.G.'s records. I looked at yours in particular because I..." Lanfen steeled herself for Shinonome's following statement. "... I desired to find out who was responsible for your sister's passing."
Lanfen could not halt the proverbial flames within her pupils from igniting. For once, she found their presence to be nothing more than an intrusion on her mind. Chains which stubbornly weighed down on Lanfen's cognition. Squeezing her eyes shut, Lanfen drew in a slow, practiced breath before fixating her focus onto the plain ceiling above them. Nobody could prove whether or not Kai's killer was even related to the Distortions. It could have been an opportunistic member of the Bavarian Illuminati or something else altogether. Even so, Lanfen stubbornly held on to the desperate belief that her continued battles against the Distortions would one day uncover her sister's murderer.
"My apologies if I-"
"Don't," Lanfen whispered, cutting off Shinonome's unnecessary apology. "Like I said... I have nothing to hide. Anyone who's a member of S.O.N.G. has the right to know what happened, Shinonome."
The silver-haired woman was hardly reassured by Lanfen's permissive statement. Regardless, Lanfen truly held nothing against her for diving into S.O.N.G.'s database. It was Shinonome, after all. They were teammates now. And her curiosity was to be expected of Shinonome at this point. To the Adaptor, it was all an open secret. There was little point in obscuring how she ended up becoming S.O.N.G.'s seventh Wielder. How Lanfen wavered in the face of an enemy despite the power she held. How her own little sister paid the price for a moment's hesitation. Lanfen could never change what happened during that evening. All she could now was determine her current path with the Sword of Damocles in hand.
Pulling her tired eyes away from the apartment's ceiling, the cloud of guilt which hovered over Shinonome caused Lanfen's wounded chest to twist ever so slightly. "I guess... you know why I fight now," she muttered, silently pondering if Shinonome still clung to Lanfen's initial impression of a singing warrior clad in monochrome. "It must be pretty disappointing to hear that it's for something as simple as revenge... isn't it?"
Shinonome gave no verbal response to Lanfen's self-deprecating syllables. Instead, the silver-haired woman lifted one of her arms and gently placed a shaking palm over the Adaptor's bandaged hands. Shinonome's fingertips were cold. Just like when Lanfen first found her in that snowy glade. And yet, Shinonome's tender touch still managed to somehow douse the stubborn fires within Lanfen's pupils, extinguishing its incessant flames over the span of four heartbeats. While their interlocked hands sank and rose with the rhythmic movements of Lanfen's steady breathing, the injured woman could see Shinonome's gaze panning over to a red pendant on top of the nearby wooden table.
"May I say something?" Shinonome carefully requested. She only needed a curt nod from Lanfen to continue. "... While I understand your desire for retribution, would it truly be wise of you to shoulder the blame for what happened?" Her soft words inadvertently provoked a mild shiver in Lanfen's folded hands. "You were a civilian before you gained your powers, weren't you?" Shinonome delicately tightened her grip over the Adaptor. "If Kai-Ming was as wonderful as your claims make her out to be, wouldn't she want her sibling to do more than just burden herself with the need to-"
The woman's words abruptly halted. Ambient music occupied the growing silence between them again. As Shinonome's palm remained on top of Lanfen's numb fingers, her golden eyes lingered on the glimmering pendant, regret drawn across her half-concealed face. Lanfen herself stayed quiet and looked past the silver-haired woman to take in the view of the room's family shrine. Would her parents consent to the oath which Lanfen had made upon becoming a Symphogear-Wielder? Or would they provide the same honest critique? Lanfen spent only half a second ruminating on an answer she knew would never come. It's not like she had the opportunity to fulfill her wishes, anyway. Kai's murderer was nowhere to be found. And Lanfen's straight-forward desire for revenge had yet to outright inconvenience her nor anybody else.
Physical hesitation marked Shinonome's fingertips when she withdrew them from Lanfen's bandaged hands. Slowly returning her palm back to her side, the pair's suspended conversation resumed when Shinonome reopened her tightened lips. "... My apologies for intruding on your business, Jiang," she stated, finally looking back at Lanfen with a rueful dip of her head. "I simply can't help but worry for others sometimes."
Lanfen was quick to give a gentle retort. "Never apologize for showing concern towards others, Shinonome." The Adaptor reinforced her advice with the faintest smile she could physically muster. "It's only human to worry. I'm sure anyone would appreciate that level of kindness." Disregarding the actual effects - if any - Lanfen's improvised statement had on the silver-haired woman, she could at least sense the palpable unease around Shinonome begin to dissipate like a passing-by cloud.
"I suppose so..." Shinonome cupped her cheek with one hand again and sighed. "I'll... I'll go and reheat your breakfast. Excuse me."
Lanfen's bandaged hand grabbed on to Shinonome by the wrist the moment she motioned to stand back up. Lanfen herself could not explain the reasoning behind the sudden action outside of keeping Shinonome right by her side just for a second longer.
The unanticipated gesture itself provoked surges of agony from at least seven different points on Lanfen's torso.
While the two wordlessly peered into each other's contrasting eyes, Lanfen took in a practiced breath, retrieving the voice she had suddenly lost upon noticing her companion's transparent bewilderment. "... Thanks, Shinonome. For being here. I... I-I hope you can get back your memories soon."
There was that alluring flicker in Shinonome's golden eyes again. A sunshine-esque glow which was followed up by an earnest smile. "And I hope that you will one day find closure, Jiang," Shinonome whispered back, taking one final look at the pendant on top of the kotatsu table. "Nobody deserves to bear such a weight. Especially when you have the safety of so many lives already sitting on your shoulders."
Lanfen couldn't find the words to respond to such a melancholic declaration. So, she left her thoughts unspoken and gently loosened her hold around Shinonome's pale-white wrist. Once both of Lanfen's hands had returned to her blanket-covered chest, Shinonome excused herself through a polite bow before stepping through the kitchen doorway.
The Adaptor stared at the plain ceiling again as a holo-player's gentle beats kept away the silence. Resting up was all she could do for now even if Lanfen hated to do so. While the softness of a futon was a pleasure she had no right to complain about, Lanfen could not disregard the pain she had experienced just this morning. It was the first time the Distortions managed to grievously wound her in a fight. And it was an indirect reminder that Lanfen still had much to undergo before she was on the same level of expertise as Tachibana, the Kazanaris, and the other Wielders. In the face of the Distortion menace, additional training simply needed to be prioritized, even though it was becoming clear that Lanfen's flame would never find satisfaction through anything other than the confirmed elimination of Kai's missing killer.
The text alert for an incoming Distortion incursion had arrived right in the middle of Morikawa Renge's homemade brunch. In accordance with Mitakihara's disaster protocols, the ex-Hida operative needed to evacuate into the city's underground bunkers until the counterattack eventually subsided. Owing to the combined efforts of S.O.N.G. - and the newly-sortied squadrons of Task Force Harmony - the sheltered citizens were required to wait for only two hours before everyone could return to their usual affairs. Now that the city had reclaimed its usual bustling atmosphere, Renge was free to continue packing up her belongings inside the cardboard boxes which crowded out her small apartment.
She sang a quiet tune to herself as Renge cleared the bedroom's dusty shelves. An apartment in Tokyo wasn't known to be the cheapest of places. But since it was going to be covered by her new workplace, any stress Renge would have experienced regarding her rent were alleviated. Ogawa Suteinu himself had personally granted the clearance for Renge's new apartment, so she was fully prepared to work herself to the bone to express her gratitude. Still, it came off like a twist of fate that Renge once again found herself indebted to a member of the Ogawa bloodline not long after concluding her services to Clan Hida. At the very least, Suteinu was far more approachable compared to his eldest brother.
Once Renge had sealed up her fifth cardboard box with a thick roll of duct tape, she turned around to face a pile of miscellaneous belongings she had haphazardly left on the room's blankets. Finding her missing hair brush required minutes of rummaging through nail polish capsules, holo-drives, and sealed game cartridges. Since none of Renge's morning rituals could be conducted due to the Distortion incursion, the woman was essentially an embarrassing visualization of somebody who had only just crawled out of the blankets. Renge heard a ringing from her high-school tracksuit's pockets after she tidied up her mess of a head. She promptly tossed the hair brush aside and fished out her smartphone.
"Oh?" Renge tapped on its screen to see Tsuchiya Kagero contacting her. Knowing how serious the former right-hand man of Ogawa Souji often tended to be, Renge expected nothing but business to come out of this conversation. "What's up, Tsuchiya?" she said, holding her phone to one ear. "Was there anything that Kagami forgot to tell me?"
"Morikawa." Tsuchiya greeted her formally like Renge had expected. "I apologize for the sudden contact, but I wished to confirm if you-"
Static waves spilled out of the phone's speakers, drowning out the man entirely while Renge winced from the harsh noise.
Pulling her smartphone away from her ear, only incomprehensible fragments of garbled speech could be heard amidst the ongoing static. "What the...?" The line subsequently cut off. Renge shot an annoyed look at her phone and noticed the sudden absence of any internet connection. "Ah- Whatever," she groaned, peering back at the numerous boxes which swarmed her tiny bedroom. "I'll just call him back later on." Dropping the smartphone on top of the bed, Renge stretched her arms before dragging herself out of the room for a refreshing bottle of soda. No amount of training from Clan Hida made the absolute tedium of moving out any easier to endure.
The apartment's living room appeared exactly like one would expect of someone who was about to head out to greener pastures. Stacked boxes occupied whatever free space Renge could sacrifice without hampering her ability to navigate the one-bedroom apartment. Although the woman had the option of utilizing her ninjutsu training to slip by them with ease, Renge chose to not rely on the very skills she intended on leaving behind. Her life in Clan Hida was in the past. And her life as a host-club's songstress was her future. Letting out a yawn that she did not bother to hide, a drowsy Renge was about to enter the kitchen doorway when she felt the hairs on the back of her neck all rise simultaneously.
Dark-blue flashed in the corner of one eye.
Renge instinctually halted in her footsteps.
And a smooth, sultry voice seized the woman by her ears. "You certainly know how to entertain a crowd, Miss Morikawa."
Careful as to not make any alarming movements, Renge turned her head in the direction of the living room's couch. Cold sweat dotted her tanned skin. Her hands were ready to defend herself at a moment's notice. When Renge slowly laid her sights on the figure who had made their presence known within the privacy of her own apartment, the woman needed to stop herself from drawing in a sharp breath. Years of operating in Clan Hida had supposedly honed her five senses to the peak of human potential. And yet, Renge hadn't detected even a hint of anyone's presence other than her own in the past hour.
Sitting on the room's couch with their back turned to Renge was a lone, adult woman. Her speech clearly made them out to be a foreigner. And from what Renge was able to see, the woman possessed pale skin which could almost be described as a 'ghostly-white'. Her medium-length hair appeared neat and trim, and it was coloured in a dark-blue that matched the azure, diamond-patterned suit she donned. Seemingly oblivious to the growing unease their mere presence instilled within Renge, the uninvited woman raised a steaming beverage between two gloved fingers before taking a slow, steady sip from Renge's personal teacup.
Renge attempted to sound poised despite the jitters which infected her body. "... Can I help you?" She discreetly stepped towards the living room's dining table in an effort to not provoke her intruder. Renge's eyes refused to leave the stranger out of her sight for even one second. Even when she slowly sat down on one side of an apartment's table and subtly brought her hands underneath it. Even when Renge's fingers drew themselves closer to the suppressed pistol that was attached to a furniture's underside by means of a magnetic lock.
The pale stranger settled their cup back on its respective saucer with an audible clink. The soft noise inadvertently made Renge lightly twitch. "I've been listening to you for quite some time now," the azure intruder stated, her voice practically dripping with honey. "And after last night's performance, I think I may have become quite a fan of your singing, Miss Morikawa."
"Is that so?" Renge casually remarked, brushing her fingertips against the confirmed presence of an emergency weapon. With her pupils still trained on the stranger's back, Renge's nerves began steeling themselves for the bloodiest possible outcome of this interaction. She then felt out the physical keypad which kept her firearm restrained and inputted its 4-digit keycode using pure muscle memory. "Sorry, but I don't exactly like dealing with fans," Renge said, concealing the keypad's light clacking with her voice, "especially when they come barging into my place uninvited. It's pretty damn rude, in my opinion."
The azure woman's rear continued to face Renge while they spoke to one another. Placing their chin in the palm of a gloved hand, the stranger in the diamond-patterned suit released a light chuckle that made the ex-Hida operative somehow shiver. "My apologies if I have committed any offense, my dear," she cooed, playfully running the leathery tips of her other hand over the glass table she sat in front of, "but due to the difficult circumstances that plague me, I sadly have a need for that beautiful voice of yours. The potential it holds... can only be found in one-in-a-million, you see."
A light 'chak' figuratively announced the deactivation of a weapon's magnetic lock. Renge narrowed her sights on the intruder and watched out for any signs of them being onto her motions. After monitoring the pale woman for five agonizingly-long seconds, Renge gripped her pistol in both hands and carefully switched off its safety. "If you're under the impression that I'll gladly just walk out of here with you..." She heard the distinct clicking of her firearm being prepared to fire. "... You're sadly mistaken."
Honest, hearty laughter slipped out from the pale woman. Its sheer suddenness made Renge reflexively gulp. The sweat which freely trailed down her tanned skin was almost unbelievable. Renge had constantly faced opponents far deadlier than some random home invader. But she could still feel her heart pounding against her chest as if she were a helpless civilian. Desperate to clear the disorienting fog that shrouded her mind, the ex-Hida operative reluctantly fell back on the grueling, mental training she had undergone over the length of five full years. Renge's memorized lessons required only a second of recollection for her to lose all sense of fear. And with the unburdening of her cognition, Renge felt a bolt of realization fall upon her.
A comprehension which was only confirmed the longer she stared at the pale stranger in front of her.
This was no regular intruder. Not at all. Their physical description perfectly-matched a single individual from the statement provided by Cassandra Jiang Lanfen.
The unidentified person who was suspected of actually stealing the SG-r04, Sword of Damocles.
Placing a pair of gloved hands atop her lap, the pale woman elegantly lifted herself off the living room's couch with an exaggerated sigh. The laughter that initially streamed out of her had completely ceased, allowing cold silence to flow back into their cramped surroundings. "Unfortunately, you are in no position to decline, Miss Morikawa." Their sultry voice remained as succulent as when they first spoke up despite the obvious threat it now held. "My goals require an aspect far more ephemeral than your redundant physical presence."
Renge wrapped one finger around the trigger of her suppressed firearm. "Not interested in just leaving, huh?" A droplet of cold sweat fell from her face and crashed onto the dining table. "Makes things a lot more easier for me then."
No more pleasantries were exchanged between the two. It was clear by this point that all of it was little more than a redundant formality. The only noises Renge could perceive now were the soft ticking of the apartment's analog clock and the racing heart within her ribcage. While Renge held her breath, the pale intruder released a brief, disappointed sigh and casually rested her gloved hands on her hips. The visible stiffness in their shoulders betrayed whatever unspoken intentions the stranger truly harboured.
The pale woman spun around.
Renge trained her firearm on her target's center mass.
A soft 'thwack' pierced the silence and her quarry fell backwards like a marionette with its strings cut off. A spent bullet casing soon clattered to the floor, breaking the room's lingering quiet outright as a glass table shattered beneath the weight of a collapsing body. The ensuing cacophony of crunching glass resounded for about a heartbeat before a tense tranquility returned to Renge's living room. Drawing in another breath to soften her steeled nerves, Renge slowly clambered out of her dining chair and approached the stranger's lying body.
She could not pick up any hints of breathing when Renge rounded the room's couch. There was only the gentle tick-tock of her analog clock. With her firearm still held in an iron grip, Renge halted in her tracks before her bare feet could start treading upon glass shards. It was close enough. And from where she stood, Renge was able to see the intruder's unmoving form now laying completely still in a heap of bloodstained glass and broken ceramic, eyes wide open while their mouth remained slightly agape. Ichor oozed forth from a bullet hole which perfectly sat where one's heart should be, giving Renge the assurance she needed to thumb a gun's safety back on.
"Goddamn," she said under her breath, gently placing the firearm on the couch for now. Taking lives was the duty she hated the most during her time in Clan Hida. It never got easier no matter how many tried to insist otherwise. And although Renge had definitely just avoided whatever fate the pale woman held in store for her, there was still an undeniable frustration that Renge ended up feeling. Their main lead on the SG-r04's theft laid dead before her. Any hopes of investigating it any further were gone. "... Huh?" Renge blinked.
Focusing her attention on the corpse's frozen expression, Renge remembered the reports having described the woman as someone with a pair of golden eyes. The body on the bloody ground instead carried those of dull silver. It was a small deviation. But there was no possible way Renge ended up misremembering even something as insignificant as this. Slowly getting down on one knee, the ex-Hida operative tightened her lips and tentatively extended a hand towards the glass-covered body. The moment Renge's fingertips made contact with its diamond-patterned clothing, she heard the skin-shivering clicking of a gun's safety being switched off right behind her.
"A convincing doppelganger, isn't she?" asked a honey-coated voice.
Renge's own pistol was out her reach.
Concealed kunais slid forth from her tracksuit's sleeves.
The drum-shattering roar of a firearm blared in Renge's ears faster than she could actually swing them.