VIII
The high-tech surgical theater seared the eyes with shades of blue and green, reflecting off the polished tiles lining the walls. Silver glints of scalpels and needles reflected the harsh glare of the overhead lights in every direction. Save for the muted chatter of the half-dozen surgeons surrounding the twin tables in the center of the chamber, there was total silence—so oppressive and so ominous that it felt as if anything within these four walls, from the smallest of viruses to the largest and fittest of humans, existed only to die at the whims of the people who'd built them.
The largest and fittest of the humans in this room hoped that ominous feeling this room gave him was only that.
"All vitals holding steady," muttered the surgeon at the head of the pack. "Ready the next round of injections."
Markus Streiter moved out of their way as they bustled about—and then, just as quickly, decided the room would be much less crowded without his two-by-point-six-seven meter frame taking up half the free space inside it. So he made for the door, and for the observation gallery on the next level. He squeezed himself up the stairs that led there with some difficulty—they were too cramped for a man who still weighed three hundred-some pounds, even in his sixties—but the onset of old age had taken just enough away from the Kämpfer that he didn't have to resort to a humiliating sidle, as he might have in the prime of his military career.
He presently reached the door to the gallery, pausing only to heave a sigh and adjust his tie. Something was buzzing in his brain, and he frowned; it seemed he wouldn't be alone when he stepped inside. Sure enough, when he opened the door, someone was already inside—and he had an idea of just who it was. Streiter, however, was too focused on the scene below for him to care more than this. From here, he had a much better view of things, unobstructed by all the doctors and specialists that skittered below like ultra-sterilized ghosts.
Sakaki Yūya and Hīragi Yuzu lay side by side, one to each table, unmoving and unconscious. Multiple IV drips had already been hooked up to them, pumping various drugs and fluids into their bodies. Markus thought they looked rather like some sort of bizarre human-jellyfish hybrid, with the amount of tubes that flowed from the walls and into the veins of their arms, their necks—even their mouths, in the case of the breathing apparatus that connected with the tanks of oxygen that lay beneath their own table.
Streiter was no doctor, so he could only guess as to the function of half these substances. All he cared about was what he wanted done—and whether what he was seeing in front of him would get it done. Everything in between was left to the more detail-oriented minds: the unsung heroes who would likely get no credit for their work, no matter how much the Kämpfer—or the woman next to him—would insist they themselves had nothing to do with it.
"One out of three."
Dr. Gwendolyn Grimm—recently reinstated Lieutenant Colonel of the Ædonai—was, in more than one way, almost half of what Streiter was. At thirty-one years old, she was almost half his age, and almost half his weight: he had been one of the few men she'd known as an Academia cadet who could make standing a slender six-two feel small. She was not, however, almost half of what Streiter was in every way. He himself had helped to make sure of that.
"That sort of standard isn't like you, Markus," the Psychic Duelist commented silkily from off to his left, gazing out of the window that separated them from Yūya and Yuzu. She hadn't turned around to address him; the glass showed enough of Streiter's reflection that she didn't need to. Because of where they were standing, however, the only half of her face the Kämpfer could see was the one with the eyepatch that just barely concealed her hideous wound.
"One out of two," he corrected simply. "The Leo Corporation can keep their piece of the ARC-V reactor—sending our forces after that was merely a part of the distraction. It is enough that we possess the ones from Synchro and Xyz—it means that not only does the only functional corridor lead from the Pendulum Dimension to our own, but it also means less chance of interference from a united force, as opposed to a divided one. Any reinforcements the other Dimensions send will have to risk spatial or even temporal displacement—they will arrive too late to help.
"But"—Streiter sighed—"I do take your meaning. This would go much more swiftly if the twins were still here."
"Then perhaps we should move more swiftly ourselves," said Dr. Grimm, touching under her eyepatch with a tissue. It came away dark and sticky, as if she'd mopped up tar. "LDS will already have alerted both the Lancers and the LID to our existence. They may try to connect their fragment to any one of ours and mobilize for a counterattack."
But Streiter shook his head. "They won't gather that many Duelists in time."
"They could get to those two girls before you do."
"So much the better. By giving the twins asylum, it will simply mean they're right where they ought to be: in our sights. It'll be the same mistake that Edo and You Show made."
"Talking of which," said Dr. Grimm, "you don't seem worried about Yūshō spilling their dirty little secret to LDS."
"It's not their dirty little secret I'm worried about," Streiter replied, "and certainly not Yūshō that I'm concerned will spill it. Besides, I took care of him. He won't be in any condition to spill any secrets for a long while."
Nobody spoke for a while; they observed the proceedings below in silence. Then: "So. We're really doing this?" Dr. Grimm bit her lip; the mass under her eyepatch was pulsing again. "I must admit … I'm feeling rather nervous about how it might play out. You know I don't say anything like that lightly. But to take this next step so soon … "
Streiter turned for the first time, looking Dr. Grimm in her one eye. "You feel you are not up to the task?"
"I'm the only one for the task," she answered. "And I mean the only one. Which, unfortunately, is the problem. You know how much Leo means to me, Markus. If I let those feelings for him get in the way of my duty—well, don't you think it's going to make it that much more difficult for him to join the Ædonai and help fulfill our cause?"
The Kämpfer turned away, and did not speak for some time. "Wendy—do you ever look at your Fusion Monsters," he asked, "and ponder what parts of which monster went where?" He ejected a card from his Duel Disk; there was enough light for Dr. Grimm to make it out as Gladial Beast Herakleinos. "It takes three different monsters to bring this out—and it is by no means the strongest in my Deck. But do you see three pairs of arms—three pairs of legs?"
Dr. Grimm had had this conversation before. She'd rolled her eyes back then, as a teenager—and it took all she could to not roll them again. "Just a pair apiece," she replied, "with a lot more bone and muscle to support them."
Streiter nodded. "Many parts, working together," he said quietly, slipping the card back into his Deck. "Unum in multis, multi in unum. A true Fusion Summon has no unnecessary elements—it is flawless and sublime, far more so than any creature that a Synchro Summon or an Xyz Summon can hope to create. And just because not all of those elements can be seen does not mean they are expendable. They do not need three hearts, three brains, or three of everything in plain sight for all to see—but enough of each one to work in cooperation."
He glanced at Dr. Grimm again. "What you think of Akaba Leo is irrelevant," the Kämpfer said solemnly, "when compared with what he thinks of you in his heart—and less still next to what he knows of you in his brain. That knowledge will serve us well in the future—but before that, we must make every effort to ensure that it does not fall into the hands of the enemy." He set his jaw. "We still have a very long way to go."
Dr. Grimm stared at Yūya and Yuzu. "You never did like to varnish your lessons, did you?"
"Die werbung hilft vielen Männern," quipped Streiter. "Die wahrheit hilft einem Mann."
The Psychic Duelist betrayed a tiny chuckle. "Ironic, to hear that from a German. But then, I always did prefer one target instead of a whole host of them. It must be the therapist in me," she smirked.
"Then you agree your place is here for now." Streiter turned away; he knew that as the Kämpfer, his word was final. "Supervise the first stage of the conditioning—then make sure our listening posts are in place," he ordered. "Once everything is ready, advise the Direktor and await his command. I must contact the Bestatter and make sure our forces in Cairo have been fortified."
"Fortified?" Dr. Grimm frowned. "Do you think it's wise to move the vessels there?"
It was the Kämpfer's turn to smirk. "Let's just say," he told her, "I'd prefer my next trap to do better than one out of two. And to that end," he added, punching in some calculations on his Duel Disk, "I need to call in a favor from an old acquaintance before I resume my search for the twins. If we are lucky, he will be well placed to intercept them for us—and perhaps give you an opening of your own as well."
Dr. Grimm laughed gaily. "Oh, Markus. You're going to think yourself into your own labyrinth one of these days!" she giggled. "What will I do when you've got no way out of that brilliant old head on your shoulders?"
That gave Streiter pause. It was easy to forget that a tactical mastermind of his caliber could be sixty-three years old. The twilight years were upon him, he would admit—and war wounds be damned, the woman next to him was at the zenith of her power. But the Kämpfer intended to leave his mark on the dimensions before his sun had set.
"You can start," he said, smiling slightly, "by living long enough to say you told me so."
The Psychic Duelist's smile slid off her face, and she turned away to look at Yūya and Yuzu, suddenly somber. More black slime spattered on the floor from under her eyepatch, and disappeared with a puff of lavender flame.
"Sometimes," she murmured, "there are days when … when I hope I won't have to."
Streiter knew then that the encounter was over. He knew better than to try and psychoanalyze a Psychic Duelist—but he had known Dr. Grimm too long to not know that he'd touched a nerve. She'd gained much experience in her time at Academia, amassed a great deal of power. But there was much she had lost as well—and Streiter suspected her eye had only been the first and least of those losses. Whether more would follow was not for him to find out.
He finished his calculations, and pressed a switch on his Duel Disk. Moments later, the sky-blue energy of a dimensional portal whooshed around him, and he smelled the familiar air of the Pendulum Dimension.
«Good luck, Markus.» Dr. Grimm was still looking out at the surgical theater, but Streiter could see enough of her face to know that her lips had not moved an inch. «Unum in multis.»
For all his intelligence, he was no telepath. His gruff baritone replied back, "Multi in unum"—but by then he was amidst the four dimensions, far too late to say farewell to one of the few Duelists he knew exceeded his power.
And might, Streiter thought, yet exceed it further still.
Maiami City
Two jet-black Maybach S650 Pullman limousines glided out of the LeoCorp executive garage and onto the city streets. They entered the main highway, and headed west on a leisurely tack away from downtown.
Masumi's heart rate, however, felt anything but leisurely even as she looked outside the window of her passenger seat. The response to the Ædonai's attack had been swift; citizens and construction crews alike were clustered around destroyed shop fronts and ravaged park plazas, each of them coordinating with each other in that rare sort of way a terrorist attack tended to cause. She didn't even see any looters—though she conceded that the black-and-white Toyotas dotting the roads every so often, lights flashing in warning, might have had something to do with that.
"I feel like we ought to be out there with them," she murmured sadly, thinking of her father's jewelry store, "helping them rebuild." Masumi had called him before getting in the car; while his business was too far removed from the path of destruction to have suffered any appreciable damage, he'd closed up shop early so that he could join in the relief efforts. But Masumi still knew the value of his store's contents—she'd helped appraise some of the jewels personally—and the thought of leaving those unguarded made her heart want to take up permanent residence in her mouth.
She jumped—Yaiba, sitting next to her, had closed his fingers around her own reassuringly. Masumi returned the gesture, smiling slightly and leaning in to him a little more closely. Even before they'd made it official, the Synchro Duelist had shown an uncanny ability to see through her level of stress and defuse it as needed. But the smile didn't last for long—she was too deep in her own thoughts; too busy processing the many facets of the jagged shape that was crystallizing in her brain.
The mood inside the car wasn't helping, either. Yaiba was as silent as an anchor—but that was the best she could say about the atmosphere. Across from her, Himika was drumming her fingers on the armrest, her sharp pink nails making a soft tink-tink-tink against the base of an empty champagne flute. Hokuto was next to her, staring at those nails and looking like he'd much rather be in the other car—with Hotene, Rika and Fuyu—than next to his principal.
In the driver's seat was Nakajima, who was attempting to dissolve the foreboding ambiance with the talk radio show he was listening to. But this, if anything, just made it worse. It sounded prerecorded—Masumi had tried listening intently to it, but pursed her lips in resignation after five minutes of hearing nothing new about the Ædonai attack.
" … One last item for our listeners today"—thank God, Masumi thought—"controversy over the recently opened all-girls Kōrōmu Academy, and the Action Dueling style they are billed as promoting, has ruffled some feathers in the more conservative enclaves of the Duel Monsters community. We're taking calls right now and hearing your thoughts on this so-called 'Skin Dueling'—and whether future broadcasts of Duel Monsters tournaments should come with an age restriction, given the connotations of—"
Himika's nails stopped tink-tink-tinking against her empty glass, and her hand made a violent gesture in the air. Nakajima, perhaps seeing this in his rear-view mirror, immediately shut the radio off without a word.
"Having to arbitrate in legal action is annoying," grumbled the headmistress. Masumi didn't feel like asking.
A few minutes passed in silence. The highway outside snaked on, but the surroundings gradually went from silver-gray to brown and green. Finally Himika moved, bending down towards the briefcase lying innocuously at her feet.
She pressed a switch. "Nakajima—are we connected to the other car?"
There was a thumbs-up from the aide. Then, the windows either side of the passenger cabin turned a smoky gray—and then black as night, darkening the cabin of the car. Seconds later, Masumi saw the translucent holograms of Hotene and Rika shimmering inside one window, sitting where she and Yaiba were in the other car. Both of them had found the time to change out of their gymnastics outfits before they left; Rika had donned mint-colored shorts and a brown tank top over a jacket the color of green tea; her friend, the same lavender romper dress that Masumi had seen her wear when they'd first met. Both girls jabbered away at each other silently, admiring the car's luxurious interior; Masumi guessed the feeds had been muted. Fuyu and—she felt her heart swoop briefly—Professor Marco sat across from them. The former drummed his fingers on the special helmet in his lap in a way that she associated with some compulsion or other; it was plain to see he was even more nervous about this than Masumi was.
Himika pressed another switch. A microphone faintly crackled in Masumi's ears. "Right—can everyone hear me?"
There was a muttered chorus of affirmation.
"Good. Now that we're out of city limits, I can tell you a little more about these security precautions we'll be taking en route to where they're keeping Leo." Himika opened her briefcase, pulling out four heavy black pieces of cloth. "First, all personal technology is to be deactivated at once. That means phones, tablet PCs—and Duel Disks," she said blithely; Masumi and Yaiba exchanged glances. "These have GPS technology that third parties can piggyback and use to triangulate our location, and Leo's along with it."
The three kids reluctantly turned off their devices. Masumi bit her lip, watching the kids in the other car follow suit.
"Secondly." Himika indicated the cloths, and passed them one at a time to Hokuto, Yaiba and Masumi, spreading out the fourth one over her own lap. "You'll put these over your heads when I tell you to—no later, and no sooner."
Hokuto unrolled his own. "Hoods?" he inquired. "Let me guess—so we forget what route we took to get here?"
"Correct," the chairwoman nodded. "And since some of us are quite sharp for children your age"—she stole a quick look and a quicker smile at Masumi—"the fabric has been treated with nitrous oxide and a ketamine derivative. A mild but fast-acting sedative," she elaborated—and the LID's puzzled looks turned to shock in the time it took to blink. "This keeps the more intelligent crowds from memorizing the turns and straights of the route, and the speed of the car along each of them. It also prevents any extant elements from trying to peek in along the way."
Masumi knew she was talking about Gwendolyn Grimm's psychic powers. "But … why all this trouble?" she still wanted to know. "Putting aside the fact that Akaba Leo is being called a war criminal, that's surely no reason for anyone to drug anyone who wants to see him—is it?"
Himika sighed, and stretched back in her seat. "Masumi … we are dealing with a legal situation that has never occurred on this planet before," she said. "Leo made no small amount of enemies while leading Academia, and no one was especially happy about having to compromise on his fate. In any case, I had no hand in the decision; not even these cars are truly mine. They're on short-term loan from the Hōmu-shō, and Nakajima and Tio are only driving them because they're currently acting as LDS' liaisons. The Minister probably thought that making these cars Maybachs instead of Toyotas, and including some refreshment inside"—she scowled at the empty champagne glass as though it was a snake rearing to bite her wrist—"would sweeten the deal."
She sniffed. "His mistake. But I'm going off on a tangent. The Ministry of Justice has intercepted too many threats against Leo—and both myself and my children—to take any risks with his safety before justice can be served. Furthermore"—she patted the cloth on her lap—"even I am not exempt from these measures. I must be sedated, just as everyone else in this car and the one behind us," she said, nodding to Hotene, Rika, Fuyu, and Marco.
Masumi had seen precious stones in her father's shop that had fewer flaws than these security procedures. Before she could voice any of them, however, Nakajima signaled for their attention from the driver's seat.
"Two minutes to the first checkpoint," he grunted. "Start suiting up."
Himika arched her eyebrows at the LID. "There you have it," she said to both cars, as if that had been her final say. "For obvious reasons, I can't simply say where we're going or how long the trip will be. But I think there is one thing I can disclose before we get there."
She smiled thinly. "The view is quite spectacular."
And without further ado, Himika leaned back in her seat and donned the hood over her head. Masumi thought she looked strangely silly wearing the thing. But in less than a minute, the headmistress had slumped very slightly—the only sign she had been drugged into unconsciousness.
The LID traded glances. Marco had already put his hood on in the next car, and was promptly out like a light. Masumi bit her lip. She had good reason to be suspicious of anything foreign inside her body; Himika had used an experimental serum on her and her friends some months ago to help accelerate their healing without her knowledge or her parents' consent. Fortunately, that was all it had done to her—but the uncomfortable confrontation was still front and center in Masumi's mind.
"One minute," said Nakajima. "Now or never."
Slowly, silently, Masumi nodded at them. Then—as if by a silent countdown—they donned their hoods as one.
The material was thick, but breathable; Masumi caught a slightly pungent odor. That was all she was able to think before the effects of the sedative took effect; the Fusion Duelist had just enough time to grasp Yaiba's hand in her own before her fingers went limp in his, and a blackness thicker than the hood she wore invaded her eyes …
Consciousness came slowly. Her brain felt like it was swimming through pudding. Shapeless blurs of shadows and color floated before her, so close to her, yet so far from her reach.
Where am I? She vaguely felt her mouth moving, vaguely heard noise that sounded like her own speech. But her tongue felt thick and dry behind her lips. Whatever words were coming out probably didn't sound like words at all.
But as the seconds ticked on, the world around Masumi slowly began to return to normal. As they became minutes, the Fusion Duelist began to remember where she was. The Mercedes was still humming softly beneath her, so they were still driving—though the road felt much less smooth than the highway out of Maiami City. Her fingers were intertwined with someone else's—that had to be Yaiba, still holding on even after God knew how long. She felt a smile flicker across her lips in longing. His fingers were stirring; perhaps he was coming to himself.
"Ugh … are we there yet?" he groaned. Masumi heard the rustle of a hood.
"Not yet." Nakajima's voice barked loudly enough that even under her own hood, Masumi felt the urge to squish her eyes shut to ward off the headache. "We still have another mile or so to go, and a short walk after that."
Masumi couldn't help it—she tried to move her legs. They felt more rubbery than on the day she'd first met Hotene, and that had involved spending a full, uninterrupted hour and a half in the little girl's favorite trampoline park. The thought of taking any length of walk in her condition made the Fusion user groan louder than Yaiba.
"Just flex them—gently," she heard Himika say from the seat opposite her. The LDS principal didn't sound the least bit groggy behind her hood. Masumi couldn't be sure if that meant she'd just been the first to come to, or if she'd just been through this experience enough times to get bored by it. "It'll help with the blood flow."
A hiss of whispered curses reached her ears just then. It sounded like Hokuto had just regained consciousness.
"Ow … " the Xyz ace was heard to mutter. "I think I conked out on one of my arms … damn pins and needles … thought I was being sealed into a card again … "
"It'll wear off," Himika said shortly. "I suggest you gather yourselves. We should be at the front drive of the place any second. Shake out the rust if you have to, but don't take off your hoods until Nakajima gives the word."
Hokuto grunted like he was stretching. Then, abruptly, there was a pause.
"Hokuto?"
" … Yes, Headmistress?"
"I realize you've been through one or two constraining situations before this one."
" … Yes?"
"Some of them may have involved being incapacitated for much longer than this pleasant summer's day drive."
"Um … "
"And that you might not have intended me any ill will for having to go through any of them."
" … "
"But if you touch me anywhere like that again … you will beg for me to personally seal you into another card."
Hokuto's "I didn't mean to" was so soft that if Masumi didn't know better, she might have mistaken his voice for Fuyu's. His immediate follow-up of "it was an accident, honest", however, had a little more weight to it—enough that Himika didn't press for a more sincere apology.
She and Yaiba were left to ponder what precisely happened—but before the Fusion Duelist could feel the smirk on her lips, she'd felt the car slow to a halt.
"We're here," Nakajima said from up front. "Hoods off and out of the car."
Masumi was only too happy to comply. She practically ripped off her hood—and regretted doing so an instant later; judging from the blinding glare that assaulted her eyes, Nakajima had lifted the filter that had smoked the windows to near opaqueness on the drive over. It took a few seconds for her to blink the stars out of her eyes.
When she'd finished, however, and stepped out of the car, she'd promptly gasped.
Masumi had been prepared to see a stark, forbidding prison complex—reserved for the most violent of criminals, and with legions of heavily armed guards to keep them in line. Barbed wire would line the concrete walls, towers would shine searchlights on the grounds looking for escapees, and a general air of grime would foul the air. But the sight before her was so unlike her expectations that the Fusion Duelist wondered if Nakajima had taken a wrong turn somewhere.
She was standing at the edge of a forest, gazing out at a grassy plain that could have swallowed the Maiami City Stadium like a tiny pill. Off to her left was a tranquil pond twice the size of her house; to her right, a pasture and a stable. Masumi heard at least three different horses nickering in their pens. It was the only noise she could make out in this secluded slice of the world—she didn't even hear birdsong over the sibilant hiss of wind that blew gently through the trees and kissed the back of her neck. A road of sandy brown gravel snaked into the hills in the distance, and it was at the edge of this that Nakajima and Tio had parked their cars.
Her eyes followed the sweeping road—and Masumi felt her jaw drop at the massive house that had been built in the middle of this clearing. It stood three stories tall—built of smooth sandstone and topped with a roof that gleamed as blue as the most flawless of sapphires in this sunny day. She had no idea how many bedrooms were inside, but she suspected this house had more of them than her house had any type of room, including the closets—and I wouldn't be shocked if whatever they call closets here is bigger than my own bedroom, she thought jealously.
She saw a second building off to the right what she assumed was the main household and guest quarters—squatter, but wider and longer, and with bigger windows to boot. Probably a ballroom or an indoor pool, she guessed, biting back another twinge of envy. Each of the two buildings—connected at the corners by some grand hallway—was smaller than the middle school where Sawatari attended regular classes with Yūya and Yuzu. But they weren't a lot smaller; indeed, Masumi suspected that combined, both buildings took up about as much space as the entire campus—if not more.
Himika had been right earlier, the Fusion Duelist grudgingly admitted—this place did have a very spectacular view.
With great effort, she tore her eyes away from the sight to look at Yaiba and Hokuto, then Hotene, Rika, and Fuyu. It was hard for Masumi to tell which of the five kids looked more thunderstruck. None of them dared to even speak.
"Château Pique-Diamant," Himika said, walking up to them and introducing the mansion with a wave of her hand. "This was meant to be Reiji's summer retreat when it was first built. Being a chief executive is tiring, and more so when you're barely a legal adult. The idea was that he could come here to relax and refresh himself after too many days at the office. Then Academia invaded, and the Lancers took precedence. Eventually I convinced myself that Reiji would never set foot in this place—but I still paid for the upkeep on the off chance it would see use again. And so it has … if not how I would have hoped."
Masumi was still swaying where she stood. Reiji owned this place?! she thought. But it seemed so obvious in hindsight: what better way to hide a notorious criminal from the world than on his son's own private property?
"Are we going in there?!" Hotene's voice was a scarce whisper that did not suit her.
Rika was almost drooling with glee beside her. "Best—house—ever … "
"That's not a house … " muttered Fuyu. "That's what my parents' house wants to be when it grows up … "
Something twitched in Himika's jaw. "Not my first choice of architecture, I grant you—it's too Georgian for my tastes. I prefer something a little more in step with the century, and certainly not this detached from the world. But then," she muttered, "this isn't my summer retreat." She gestured at them, indicating that they should follow.
They only made it five paces before Masumi's jaw dropped a second time. Two slender figures had blurred—there was no other word for it—right in front of Himika, side by side with one another. The speed and lack of noise with which they moved reminded her uncannily of Yaiba's former practice partner—an exchange student from China who had been reared in a Shaolin temple, and trained to be as fast and strong as any one of those warrior-monks.
Then her brain caught up with her, and she recognized them near-instantly: she had seen them before at the Maiami Championship. One of them—the ponytailed ninja standing off to her right, his blue scarf wrapped around his mouth, then trailing over his shoulder protectors and down to his armored knees, had made it far enough to be recognized as a founding member of the Lancers. The red-scarfed teenager next to him looked like his twin brother.
Himika greeted them without an ounce of surprise. "Tsukikage—Hikage. You've been informed of our arrival?"
"Yes, Himika-san." The twin ninjas spoke and bowed in tandem. "Reiji-sama arrived shortly before you did."
"Very good." Himika craned her neck back to her drivers. "Marco, Tio—stay with the cars. Keep the engines hot. Nakajima—with me."
But before she could take a single step forward, Tsukikage and Hikage had put hands to the katanas strapped across their backs. "One moment, Himika-san," they spoke in unison.
Tsukikage stepped forward. "Per the terms of our contract," he said dutifully, "we are obliged to tell you and your entourage that your presence here will be monitored from this point forward. We must further remind you that any terms of your visit that apply to you must also apply to any guests you bring with you."
Hikage matched him in pose and tone. "All Duel Disks and improperly secured communications devices are to be deactivated at once," he added far too crisply—they had given this speech numerous times before, the Fusion user realized. "You will turn them over when you have reached the atrium, and will receive them upon your departure."
Masumi and Yaiba both raised an eyebrow. "We've already deactivated them," the former supplied helpfully. "The headmistress gave us the rundown of your procedures on the way over."
Both ninjas fixed her with the same flat stare. "During your visit," they said together, "you will abide by protocol."
The Fusion user shivered. She privately thought they might as well have leveled the blades of their swords at her throat—it would have been less intimidating than the diamond-hard edge that had suddenly sharpened their voices.
"You will be escorted at all times," Hikage informed them. "You will not wander off alone. You will not interact with the staff unless given permission by a member of the household"—he gestured to Himika—"or the Fūma clan."
"Nakajima-san, as you are a former member of the Self-Defense Forces," Tsukikage added, "Reiji-sama has asked that you enforce these rules as only you can. Any person these children may encounter from this point onward is to be considered a guard, and not simply a servant of the household."
The aide nodded curtly—but not before Yaiba had let loose a loud scoff. "C'mon," he chuckled. "Are you seriously telling me that the maids have PM-9s or something stashed under their skirts?"
"Sumitomo NTK-62s."
The LID spun as one towards Nakajima. Himika's aide was smirking slightly, but said nothing further.
"Is he joking?" Hokuto had leaned towards Masumi in the silence that followed. "I can't tell if he's joking."
The Fusion Duelist could only shrug helplessly. She cared a lot more about gems than she did guns.
Himika, mercifully, seemed to decide then that the encounter was over, and swooped in before Masumi could think of an answer. "Thank you, gentlemen," she said to the ninja twins. "We'll take it from here."
"Very good," Hikage said to her. "Reiji-sama is waiting at the main entrance."
"We will take you there," his brother added. "This way, please."
And without further ado, they turned on their heels and marched forward in lockstep with one another.
The LID watched Himika and Nakajima fall in with them. "Is it just me," Hotene piped up after a long moment, "or are those ninja just a couple of total wet blankets?"
"Girl, right?" huffed Rika. "This house is once-in-a-lifetime fancy! We should at least get a grand tour out of it!"
"I'd get so lost in this place," Fuyu muttered, finally stepping forward to follow the two adults; the rest of the LID walked after him. "I'd never figure out what room was where. I don't know how people this rich can live like that."
Yaiba offered him a hand. "Hello, Pot," he said sarcastically, while Fuyu slipped his helmet over his head to protect his pale skin from the sun. "My name's Kettle. Did you forget that your family lives under a whole planetarium?!"
He cringed as Hokuto cuffed him on his spiky hair. "Did you forget that his family works at that planetarium, too?" the Xyz ace smirked at him. "Completely different situation."
"I'm not certain anyone actually works or lives here," murmured Masumi as they approached the mansion. They were close enough now to see that the gem-blue gleam of the roof was due in part to the multitude of solar panels that lined it. "Himika said this was a summer retreat for Reiji. So he doesn't live here 24/7. The ground staff probably have the run of the place when he's not using it."
"Not precisely." Himika was close enough to have heard them. "My son didn't just pick this place out of a hat to hold my"—she chewed the word a little—"husband." She slowed her pace a little until she drew level with the LID.
"The magnitude of Akaba Leo's actions has caused a great amount of debate in legal circles around the world," she explained. "However, most of these circles have agreed that the life of his daughter Ray should never have come at the expense of billions more. So the arrest and indictment was inevitable; all that remains is the trial. Except … no one's really sure as to which Dimension Leo should be tried in for his crimes. Until that question's been answered, the International Court of Justice has granted us special dispensation to keep him under house arrest."
"What—in there?!" Yaiba blurted out, pointing at the elaborate façade of the house. "If the inside's anything like the outside, I don't see why he'd ever want to leave. I'm not even sure how this could be a prison in the first place!"
"You mean, besides the security protocols you have already heard twice over today?" the headmistress said coolly.
Yaiba did not reply. Masumi didn't think anyone wanted to. "Even the most gilded of cages is still a cage," Himika murmured, half to herself. Then, more loudly: "Did you happen to notice anything at the front drive?"
They shook their heads—but just as quickly, something occurred to Masumi. "Actually … it was kind of quiet," she answered. "Almost too quiet, I'd even say."
"Precisely," said Himika. "Tsukikage and Hikage weren't the only ninja there to greet us. There were at least twice as many of them stationed in the trees lining the entrance to the Château. I would guess as many as eight."
The LID simmered with awed muttering. Masumi felt like one of the twins had pressed a shuriken against her spine. All those people, barely twenty feet away from them—and even her keen eyes hadn't noticed a single one of them?
"Reiji's close relationship with the Fūma clan made it possible for a number of their membership to act as security," Himika told them. "Furthermore, the maids are rotated out on a weekly basis, and they are restricted to their own quarters—which are separate from the main household—and the sections in which they work. This keeps any one of them from gaining too much knowledge of the floor plans for the Château. Finally, the Minister of Justice was personally adamant that while we had free reign to confine Leo however we wished, there had to be one constant."
Hokuto tilted his head. "Which would be … "
"His ankle bracelet." Himika shimmied her front foot. "On top of restricting him to the grounds, it's been rigged to emit an EMP every other second. Range of ten meters. Any technology within this radius that isn't protected against that level of electromagnetic radiation"—she snapped her fingers—"instantly becomes inoperable."
"Including Duel Disks?" Fuyu looked thoughtful.
Himika nodded. "Especially Duel Disks," she muttered. "His Decks have been confiscated—oh, yes; he had more than one on his person—and all technology in this house is restricted to staff and immediate family only."
They were within sight of the colonnade entrance to the mansion. A Range Rover Sentinel had been parked next to the fountain in the center of the courtyard, its black paint glinting dully in the clear sky. Beyond this, Masumi could see the familiar red scarf and spiky silver hair of Akaba Reiji, leaning back in the shade against one of the columns next to the front door. He was bouncing a baby over one shoulder—and even though she knew that baby could only be his little sister Reira, the notion of seeing Reiji with any infant at all was still an unexpected sight for Masumi to associate with one of the most powerful teenagers in the whole world. Then again, she privately thought, the sight was far stranger knowing that the last time she'd seen Reira, she'd been about ten years older, could still pass as a boy—and spoke very little out of a mere habit in those days, as opposed to a complete lack of ability today.
"We live in a world where everything's a phone call away." It took her some time to realize Himika had said this, more quietly than ever. "But it's a wide gulf between that phone … and the man I thought I married."
She walked towards Reiji, embracing her son coolly, professionally. If they spoke to each other, Masumi couldn't hear any words. Then, mother took daughter in her arms, and cooed softly into her tiny ears.
The Fusion Duelist amended her train of thought: this sight was a lot stranger than Reiji cuddling his adoptive sister.
Yaiba seemed to agree. "Just when you think you know some people," he remarked from the corner of his mouth. Then, smirking, and more softly still: "Do you think Reira could still beat Hotene in a Duel, even as a baby? Ouch!"
He yelped as the little girl kicked him square in the shin. "I heard that," she said with an indignant huff.
After going on a tear during the previous Maiami Championship, Hotene had been brought to a screeching halt after facing Reira in the Junior Division's round of eight. The lopsided loss was still a sore spot for the tiny Duelist to this day—Rika had confided to Masumi after one of the girls' trampoline sessions that Hotene wanted to hold a rematch the moment Reira was old enough to hold a Duel Disk once again, and that she didn't care how many years it took for her to get there.
Reiji stepped forward to meet them then. "I'm grateful that you could all make it here today," he said to the LID. "I apologize if the drive over was … discombobulating in any way. But, protocol is protocol."
"Eh, it could've been worse," Yaiba shrugged. "They could've brought us along in so many tanks."
"They very nearly did." If Reiji was joking, he didn't show it. It was hard to believe a sixteen-year-old possessed a poker face like that. "It would have better ensured your security than hoods and drugs, considering."
Masumi did not smile. Reiji's words had just reminded her of the gaping hole she'd noticed in his idea of security.
"My father is in his study," the scion of the Akaba clan informed them, turning on his heel and approaching the front door. "He has taken to spending most of his time there. And he has been wishing to speak to you for some time."
"I don't think the Ministry of Justice would take too kindly to kids asking to visit a war criminal," Yaiba said wryly.
"Not you collectively," said Reiji. "You. I can only guess as to why … but my father has mentioned you by name."
The Fusion Duelist repressed the urge to gulp as Reiji ushered them all into the house in single file. She could not fathom why the man who'd once headed LDS' sworn enemy would be interested in any of the LID.
And her thoughts had only grown more confusing; Reiji, after all, had pointed—quite unmistakably—directly at her.
This revelation occupied Masumi's brain for some time. She did not immediately take in the luxuriant interior of the foyer, with its diamond grid of black-and-white marble flooring—freshly polished to a mirror shine, no doubt in preparation for their arrival—or the great staircase opposite that stretched from the second-floor landing like the tongue of some yawning behemoth. Nor did she instantly see the four maids arranged two by two on either side of the front door, bowing in front of them in unison.
"Okaerinasaimase, goshujin-sama!" they chorused.
Masumi barely resisted the urge to cringe—it was like she'd stepped into some stereotypical harem anime. It didn't help that the maids hardly looked Japanese at all—but instead, various degrees of European—and yet they spoke the language with a Japanese accent that did not sound caricatured in the slightest. Nor did it escape her notice that the oldest of the maids had a non-zero chance of being too young to qualify for the Youth division. This was telling for Masumi: either they had been taught the language exhaustively, and used it when greeting the family and guests—
She caught Reiji's eye, and wished she hadn't. Or, she hastily amended, that they were just going the extra mile in being deliberately cheeky to see if he would crack. Good luck, she thought, concealing a smirk.
"Well, now I've seen everything," snickered Yaiba as he stepped inside. "Akaba Reiji, running a clandestine maid café inside the world's most luxurious prison? I guess you really are just another teenage boy after all, aren't y—?"
He stuttered to a halt, and froze in his tracks with the look of someone who'd just had an unpleasant realization. "He … Reiji's staring right at me, isn't he?" the Synchro ace said in a very small voice, not daring to turn around.
Masumi nodded. "Mm-hm."
Yaiba gulped. "His glasses all scary and shiny?"
The Fusion Duelist chanced a split-second glance. "Oh, yeah."
" … Poo." Fortunately, her boyfriend hadn't forgotten about Reira still being in earshot. "One of these days," he grumbled, "I'll learn how he does that—how people always know when he's staring at them … "
"He's Reiji." Masumi watched one of the maids take Reira, making zooming noises with her mouth as she flew the giggling baby through the air like a toy airplane. "Just assume all this weirdness is another day in the life for him."
"I'd hate to see what he calls weird," Hokuto muttered. "At least I know one thing is true about all this."
"What's that?"
Hokuto stole a long, long look at the maids. "There is no way they'd carry any kind of gun under those dresses."
Masumi followed his gaze—and promptly huffed. "Ugh—you're just as bad as Yaiba," she said, flushing scarlet through her indignation. "Besides, maybe they don't use guns—they wouldn't shoot up a house like this after spending all day cleaning it! One prisoner isn't worth all those bullets—they'd use something nonlethal, like stun batons!"
"And where would they carry those?"
She thought about it—and promptly huffed again. "Thanks," she said, staring Yaiba down with what she fervently hoped was the same basilisk stare that Reiji had given him earlier. "That's … in my brain now. Thanks a lot."
The Synchro Duelist smirked. "I didn't say anything."
Masumi waited until Himika had turned fully towards Reiji. Then, she carefully folded her hands behind her back—and made a gesture with each one that she hoped would show Yaiba exactly how little she cared.
Thankfully, they got to business remarkably quickly, and any trace of harem anime fantasy anyone here might have harbored went poof soon after. One of the maids took the LID's Duel Disks into an adjoining closet; Masumi found herself staring at hers with reluctant longing before the door clicked shut. Another maid scurried upstairs with Reira in tow, still cooing happily in baby talk at the infant. The rest of them retreated into the vast reaches of the mansion, back to whatever post they served—leaving Reiji, Nakajima, and Himika alone with the ninja twins and the LID.
"Resume your posts at the entrance," Reiji said to Tsukikage and Hikage. "We can escort them to Leo from here."
The brothers nodded once—and blurred away without a word. Now there were only nine—six kids, a mother and son, and the burly aide who protected them. At a gesture, Reiji bade them follow him, and they moved past the staircase and into an adjoining hallway, bright with sunlight that streamed in through the large windows either side.
Even with all the experienced Duelists next to her, Masumi still felt like the odds weren't in their favor. " … We're really doing this," she muttered, feeling smaller and smaller against the gigantic mirrors and murals that lined the walls. "We're talking to a war criminal. No pressure. At all."
"Some people would disagree on what my father truly is," Reiji said. He did not sound harsh or patronizing in any way, but the Fusion Duelist still felt like she'd been bitten by the tone of his words. "Many in the Fusion Dimension would have called him a martyr. Many more in the Xyz Dimension, and ours as well, would just as easily condemn him as a war criminal, as you say—or even a monster. But as with all things, Kōtsu Masumi, the truth is far more complicated than what we first see for ourselves—and I ask that you bear this in mind when you see Leo yourself."
"What do you think of him, then?" Hokuto wanted to know. "Does blood flow thicker than water for Akaba Reiji?"
LeoCorp's chief executive did not answer for some time. That caught Masumi off guard, and even Hokuto looked amazed that he'd asked a question for which Reiji had no ready answer.
"Hey, look," he said hastily, "look—if it's too personal a question, you know you don't have to answer it—"
"No—it's quite all right." But Masumi heard the spasm in Reiji's voice. "I will not deny that everything my father has done at Academia has … complicated my relationship with him. And I will make no effort to conceal that what he has done will not be smoothed over so easily. Perhaps it may never be so. However … " He took a deep breath. "However, I believe he should only be called as much of a criminal as this house should be called his prison."
The Fusion Duelist found this answer terribly cryptic, even for him. Masumi had been told of why Leo had done what he did, of course; Z-ARC's revival had not been the climax of his plan to unite the dimensions and return his daughter Ray to life—but, to the contrary, had been the flaw in it; the X-factor where everything he'd worked for had gone so badly astray. Even so … She had seen too many pictures of Heartland City, heard too many tales of how it had been razed to the ground, and how its people had been sealed by the billions all for the sole purpose of drawing out one teenage girl, to muster much sympathy for Akaba Leo. And that wasn't even getting into the sorts of people with which he'd associated—the psychotic freaks of mind and body the LID had had to face in the past, who'd served him and carried out his orders. Their smirks and sneers still haunted Masumi even now.
She stole a look at Hokuto and Yaiba behind her; both boys were still counting with their fingers, repeating Reiji's words under their breath and trying to figure out if they added up to any sort of repudiation.
Masumi decided to supply her own interpretation. "You want this trial to be over and done with. Don't you, Reiji?"
A nod. "I do not wish to be known as Leo's jailer—or his shield." They turned a corner into another hallway. "I merely want to make sure that he faces justice in accordance with the law—before that," he added, "of public opinion."
He motioned them to stop, and gestured to the single door that connected the hallway to the room beyond. "This is Leo's private study," he said. "Do you have anything to say before I open this door—any questions or concerns? The moment we step beyond this point, I cannot guarantee that I will be in control of whatever happens inside."
Hokuto put a hand up immediately. "What do you mean by that? Do you think he'll try to attack us?"
To his surprise, Reiji chuckled. "No, no. No, I think you will find he is not that kind of prisoner. But," and his face hardened, "that does not mean he thinks the same as you and me. We have already seen how many families he is prepared to affect for the sake of his own. You must never forget that, no matter what you see in him."
"You say that like we won't like what he tells us … " Rika said uneasily. Hotene nodded sagely behind her.
"If my mother was in any way worried about whether you were ready to do this," replied Reiji, "we would not be having this conversation. She and I have much more confidence in you than you might give us credit for."
"Talking about confidence." Masumi stepped forward; she could not put it off any longer. "How confident are you in Leo being safe in this place? Because I did some thinking on the drive over—at least, when I wasn't wearing that blasted hood," she added, stealing a look at Himika, "and I think all this security of yours has a real big weak spot."
Mother and son traded glances. "Enlighten us," said the headmistress.
"All these ninjas you've got patrolling the grounds—all these maids who, for all we know, have more guns and weapons inside their dresses than the average American? They're all meant to handle physical threats—say, if someone decides to sneak onto the grounds and confront Leo himself. They won't get very far—and I get that. But," Masumi paused for breath, "what if anyone on this property gets threatened by a force that isn't physical?"
Reiji frowned. "You think Gwendolyn Grimm would try to attack this mansion and kidnap my father?"
"She wouldn't even need to be here—not physically," said Masumi. "I know what her psychic powers can do all too well. And I really hope you're about to tell me why you think I'm wrong."
Reiji smiled. "For one thing, fighting off a psychic attack takes a lot of willpower—something you of all Duelists should understand," he said, and Masumi couldn't resist a bashful blush. "I did not choose Leo's security lightly—every ninja, every maid, and every other servant in this household was specifically selected because they have that same willpower—that same ability to exert total control over their own mental faculties while under duress. They may not have the look in their eyes that any of you do—but then, looks aren't everything.
"Secondly," he went on, "you are operating under the assumption that my father does not wish to be here at all."
Masumi frowned. What?
"Yes … " Reiji cast a look at the door behind him. "If Gwendolyn Grimm were to try and abduct Leo, I can assure you he will not go quietly. He has made it clear to me that he wants to enjoy the life he has today for as long as he is able. Moreover," he added, "he has told me that there is almost no one in this dimension who knows Grimm better than he does. Because of that, Leo is particularly—and perhaps even uniquely—prepared to confront her. I would almost go so far as to call him our secret weapon against her."
Yaiba looked skeptical. "You sound awful sure of yourself about this. I mean—let's not forget that we're the LID because you and your mom didn't even see Grimm working right under your noses until Masumi here got curious."
"We did not know then what we know now," Reiji said coolly. He'd raised his eyebrow less than a millimeter. That was enough to snuff out any further argument from Yaiba.
"You said 'almost' just now … " Fuyu was deep in thought. "What do you mean, there's almost no one in this dimension who knows that woman better than your dad?"
"Exactly what you think he means," Himika said from behind him. "Of all the people that Gwendolyn Grimm has fought in her career as a Psychic Duelist, only seven of them have been confirmed to not only resist her power, but also turn it against her. One of those people is Akaba Leo."
"I think I can guess who the other five are," said Yaiba, and Masumi felt a jolt as she realized the same thing. "But who's number seven?"
Reiji turned from her, and approached the door to the study. "We will find out soon enough," he said.
And before the name Markus Streiter had finished echoing through Masumi's brain in astonishment, Reiji had knocked once, twice, thrice on the heavy oak.
"It's unlocked!" called the voice of a middle-aged male from beyond, and the Fusion Duelist stiffened.
I'm not ready for this … I'm about to talk with the man who changed my life forever I can't do this he ruined so many people's lives and I'm supposed to treat him like he's not my enemy I have no idea how I can—
But there was nothing more she could say or do: Reiji had already swung the door open wide—and Masumi's eyes went just as wide at the sight that lay beyond.
A/N: Phew. Busy, busy, busy. Half of my 2021 so far has involved fifty-hour-plus work weeks—and I was still somehow able to make some backlog in the midst of it all.
I had to split this chapter in two again when it became clear that it would be a lot more dialogue-heavy than my usual. So I figured I'd fill the dead air by trying to work a few more personal, humorous (and, let's face it, awkward) moments into the story—because at the end of the day, these teenagers are still teenagers, and surely can't act serious all the time even when there's the threat of war in the air.
Did I succeed? Probably not—but I hope that I can use moments like this as a springboard going forward.
Slightly shorter chapter to follow this one, and then it should be back to the action. Thanks for reading! – K