Summary: Reze finalizes her enrollment.
Sitting in the staff room for Five Stars High School, Reze watched as the lone teacher looked over her just-completed entrance exam. On the far wall behind him was a hand-painted mural, with the school's name surrounded by floral flourishes. She kept her mind busy counting the many times he switched from her exam to the answer key, making a rule to count double-takes as a singular move. After a few long moments, he pulled away, moving to fill out another form.
She turned her attention towards the walls of the room, counting the windows and seeing which ones could be opened, and whether they were double-paned. She glanced towards the doors, looking at the installed doorstops. She imagined how easy it would be to rig the room to make escape more difficult, or the alternate paths to get out. She also thought about all the ways she could use the pens on the desk to dispatch an opponent, or how the flower pot could be a sufficient distract—
"—and, finally, your entrance exam results." The voice pulled Reze from her wandering thoughts as she looked back at his smiling face. The suited man sitting across from Reze produced a sheet, categorizing the different sections that she underwent, from mathematics and chemistry, to literature and history, among other subjects. It hadn't been difficult; due to the suddenness when Yoru applied for her, along with the school's own eagerness to work with the orphanage, they had given her the easier practice exam, both for schedule conveniences and for simply gauging her education level, what with her non-existent student record. "A near-perfect score, young lady."
Reze shared a practiced and polite smile. Of course, the girl who learned how to calculate bullet trajectory from behind the scope of a Dragunov SVU would have passed with flying colors, so she intentionally fumbled the ones on parabolas. "Thank you," she said, bowing her head before pulling the results to her side of the desk briefly; she didn't need to see what she already knew. "It'll be an honor attending this school."
"No, no, we're honored to have you here," the man said, as he collected more papers, collecting them in a paper folder for the young woman's convenience. "We've wanted to work with Ms. Takeuchi for a long time now, but most of the children in her care are often adopted either before or when they start junior high." Reze held back a giggle at hearing Yoru being called "Ms. Takeuchi"; she could only imagine, if she were here, she'd reach across the desk and wring the poor man's neck like a wet rag. "Granted, most parents aren't keen on paying senior high school tuition on top of adoption fees… Still, we are dedicated towards ensuring any child, regardless of their place in life, can receive a good education if we can help it, and working with Ms. Takeuchi and her orphanage is one way we can do that."
Reze nodded along as she watched the man stamp a few more forms, setting some aside for the school's own use, while slipping the rest into the envelope, tying it off for security, and handing it over to her. "I'll be sure to come to school on time, sir," she said as she lowered the envelope to her lap, giving a wide smile as she, again, bowed her head.
"We wouldn't want you to miss the orientation," he said, returning another bow of his own. As Reze stood up, the man briefly looked at another file, before turning his attention back towards the young woman. "You didn't have to wear the uniform today, you know?"
"Oh?" She made a show of glancing down at her body, clad in a black sailor uniform, as she lazily turned her body, the pleated skirt fluttering in turn. "Just wanted to make a good first impression, sir."
"That, you did," he said, giving a warm smile. "We'll see you in April!"
A few goodbyes, as per usual, and she was on her way. Walking through the empty hallways of her new school, Reze slipped the envelope into her book bag, quickly zipping it up before she exited the building and into the cool spring air. She took in a deep breath, her dream of finally attending school realized.
Rather than heading straight home, she instead moved towards the nearby park, allowing herself a moment to reflect, to appreciate. Even with Yoru—War—taking Reze in only because of her heart, or, more specifically, the Bomb Devil that had become her heart, she was finally free to begin doing all the things she had dreamed of when she was just a kid scrounging around in the streets of Leningrad.
A crinkle of paper pulled her from her thoughts, as bread crumbs were scattered on the concrete near her. She glanced over, finding a bench underneath a cherry blossom tree, its flowers just starting to bud. Seated was a man who, on any other day, would have been shooed away by some beat cop, with his strange appearance.
The thick, black coat enveloping his body. The nasty scar dragging from the corner of his mouth and across his cheek. Metal earrings; two on one ear, and one on the second ear. Grey roots that faded into colored blonde.
Rugged hands reached into the paper bag, grabbing a fistful of bread crumbs and throwing them out in a single swift swing, making no attempt to scatter them properly.
"Guess you got your ducks in a row while I wasn't looking," he said, his low voice simultaneously smooth and rough to Reze's ears, like audible sharkskin. His eyes flicked over to look at the human weapon, dark pupils both piercing with purpose, yet empty, having seen everything with the tumultuous life he's lived.
"You didn't bring those breadcrumbs just to make a duck joke, did you?" Reze questioned, half-rhetorically as she moved to sit next to the aged devil hunter, knowing better than to turn away his presence. "The nearest pond is a few blocks down. I would know."
"Shame." He took the bag into his hands, rolling up the opening quickly before tucking it inside his coat. "I even bought the good kind, too."
The two sat in silence, as Reze contemplated her questions for the older man, as he sat next to her, still as a statue while his neutral expression betrayed nothing. "Guess you're making good on what I told you."
She glanced over, finding him staring straight ahead still, and gave a dismayed sigh. "'Stay in Tokyo', that's all you told me… And then you threw me out to the wolves."
"You're the wolf," he said, as he reached into his coat once more, pulling out a steel flask. "You're crafty; you could survive, make your own living. Hell, you could be blowing up civilians left and right, and I wouldn't care; just so long as you stayed in Tokyo."
"To keep your tools in one place?"
Kishibe placed the opening to his lips and tilted his head back, taking a long glug that seemed to go on for a second too long, evident by the single rivulet of alcohol running from his lip as he pulled away. "Yup."
She raised an eyebrow at his brief answer. "And you'd trust me for that?"
"You either listen to me, or Public Safety keeps you in a pool with concrete shoes." He capped off his flask before turning his head to look at Reze. "Who else would you trust?"
She continued to gauge his expression, finding herself at an impasse. "Could just kill you right now… Not that I need to, but—"
"Save it for someone else," he interjected, as he switched the flask for a manila folder from that magic bag of tricks that was his trenchcoat. He produced a glossy paper flyer, its obnoxious graphics making even his eyes twitch. "You've heard of this, right?"
Reze looked over, finding the stylized caricature of Chainsaw Man's head, and, printed underneath, the words "Chainsaw Man Church". The idea of some cult of personality forming within Tokyo gave her a sinking feeling—and, knowing Denji and his simple wants and needs, he had nothing to do with its founding apart from his appearances as Chainsaw Man capturing the public's attention. "One of those ended up in the mail the other day. What of it?"
"Guess who's involved?" She wracked her mind for answers, parsing through various persons of interest, but shrugged. Kishibe gave a nod, as though he knew she couldn't think of the answer, and produced a picture.
Shivers ran down Reze's spine as she glanced at the glossy image. It was a neat picture for identification purposes, as the man stood against the wall, giving a smile, one that seemed not to reach his eyes. His hair was pulled back behind his ears, serving more to silhouette the flat sides of his skull. Even his posture was shaped, as his shoulders were raised enough to square off his body.
"You don't know his name, but the way you just reacted tells me I was right to trust you," Kishibe said as he laid the photo on top of the flyer.
"Just a gut feeling…"
"The best feeling." He handed over the folder to Reze, allowing her to parse its contents. "While Makima was running Division 4 in public view, he was signing off on everything for Division 5 as its unofficial head. Barem Bridge, the Flamethrower Man."
Reze pulled out another sheet of paper documenting the various weapons, including herself, and the other devils assembled for Division 5, particularly for the pacification of Chainsaw Man. "I'm guessing he's Makima's personal dog."
"The Vincent Vega to her Mia Wallace," Kishibe returned, as he took out his flask again, taking another swig. "She could've came to work with a wedding band, and he'd still be kissing her feet…"
She continued to sort through the papers, most of the details she could probably guess just from the relations with Makima and, now, Barem. She looked over at Kishibe, who continued to nurse the flask in his hands. "Why tell me all this now?"
"The orphanage." The answer came out promptly and succinctly. "Of all the places you could've ended up." He reached for another piece of paper at the bottom the small stack, which seemed shockingly devoid of details. "For some reason, this was among Makima's personal files. Scrubbed, of course, but it's clear she was keeping tabs."
"You don't think," she pointed at the picture staring back with that empty smile, "he knows, right?"
"Not him, nor the current Public Safety. Even if they did, it'd be at the bottom of their list of priorities, probably right under finding a supplier for shoe polish." He poked a finger at the page. "This was back in the 1980s, right after the Gun Devil incident. Not like it was the only orphanage set up in Tokyo, either, so it was easy to, say, 'lose' the files in all the commotion; the information on the others were buried and unimportant, sure, but for some reason this one file—the last remaining original file in Makima's possession, mind you—has had details left out entirely."
"Public Safety wouldn't have more information, then?"
"All they have in the revised files sitting in their cabinets is that it's just any other orphanage, set up to deal with the massive population of orphans just about thirteen years ago," Kishibe said, as he took another sip of his liquor. "Any relation to Makima gone, but we know better."
Reze glanced over from the original orphanage file, then towards the flyer. "But with the church…"
"Just keep an eye out with this orphanage, that's all," he croaked out, pointing a finger at her for emphasis. "I don't know why Makima's gone to the lengths to scrub this specific one, and I don't care. But with the Chainsaw Man Church, you can't be too sure. Use your own discretion." He reached into his coat once more, producing a narrow envelope and handed it to Reze. "Here."
She opened the paper envelope, finding a small stack of bills with many zeroes—a quick count came to a neat five million yen. "You couldn't have given this to me the first time?"
"Didn't think you'd dive into the deep end, nor was I gonna give you a lifeline, little duck," Kishibe said, as he moved to take another swig, only to be met by a few paltry droplets. "Consider this your operating budget."
"I've worked with less," she said, as she tucked the money into her book bag. Memories of past missions flashed through her mind—especially when her handlers spent the bulk of the money given to them by the KGB on western luxuries and narcotics before they shipped her off. "Should I destroy this file, as w—" She glanced over, finding the other side of the bench empty, while the ground around her remained littered with breadcrumbs.
Glancing down at the folder still in her grasp, Reze's hand moved to the pin dangling from the side of her neck.
Author's Notes: I was originally going to put out a different chapter, one that encompassed the graduation celebration, either the actual dinner, or a "Part 2" at the orphanage, but realized it was going nowhere. I already had the bulk of this one done, intended for a flashback much later, but found this easier to tie in to our current "preamble" arc. So, this chapter came out earlier than usual.
I probably won't be using the "Takeuchi" surname for Yoru often, but it didn't feel right to have a school staff member call her "Yoru". It's just a common enough surname for her fake human identity. Specifically, 武内, which can mean a lot of things, but the meaning of those characters can respectively be "military" and "inside", among other interpretations. Wikipedia has it as "warrior household", for example. Reze will also be borrowing this surname.
A few specific notes:
It should probably be the GRU, not KGB, but I already used KGB back in Chapter 4.
"Five Stars" references not only the rank of general, but also Special Division 5.
And, yes, I had Kishibe with breadcrumbs for the duck joke. Exit, stage left.