Hop. Hop. Hop.
Orange hues paint the halls of Section Six offices, and black and white tiles adorn the floor like a melting mess of piano keys. Stars peer against the window, they dot the night as notes dot a music sheet. Branches of lush leaves sway within their pots as two young woman brush by with brisk bounces. Their heels click and tap a melody upon the hard surface, and their shadows twist and dance through the halls, and the stars watch and love.
Hop. Hop. Hop.
"Miyabi, could I beat you in a fight if I get to make the first attack?"
"No."
"Even if you're not allowed to dodge the attack?"
"No."
Hop. Hop. Hop.
In the midst of their tiny jumps on the white swirls of the floor, and the soft flaps of their skirts and jackets, Miyabi's stone face does not take in the dull doors leading to other offices. Miyabi's feet plant squarely on the white patches, and she pauses to consider each move, arms bending at her side. The window reflects Belle at her side, hand on the wall and bounding forth like a labrador rifling through puddles. Warm light illuminates the proxy's pink cheeks and bouncy hair as she makes excited little breaths with each little leap.
So, Belle is going to ask the question. This has been going on for two minutes. Unfortunately, 'What the hell are we doing?' is a rude way to phrase it and she reconsiders her wording first.
"What the hell are we doing? Why are we only jumping on the white tiles?" She looks over her shoulder.
"My heart likes doing it." Miyabi freezes, and lags behind. The question staggers her. Her own instinctive answer staggers her even more. She is caught in the dark gap between two orange spotlights, and her eyes dart away.
"Okay." Belle beams. "Then I wanna keep doing it, too."
The swinging light casts its glow back on Miyabi, and the chill of her heart melts away. In her mind, Miyabi believes the relief can't be seen on her face, but in truth, her sharp eyes soften, just a little.
"Thank you, Belle."
Belle's sheer recklessness in her jumps is making her pull ahead. So brutish, unrefined, inconsiderate, just hop hop hopping away with no strategy at all, but she's winning. Not that this is a competition. Of course not. Miyabi enters a stance of unbridled determination, with the inhuman transformation of bending her knees a little, like a tiny fox cub before a mighty pounce. With extreme effort usually reserved for battling Nineveh or the hordes of the hollows, she makes slightly bigger leaps than usual.
As Miyabi passes her, Belle awakens to a greater ability; cheating. Just as her prey shuffles ahead, she sneaks up from behind. The shadows poise like a cobra baring its fangs over a cub.
"Bzzt." Her fingers dig through Miyabi's soft shirt and into the slim body beneath, both her nails and grin strike like thunder.
"Gwah, ack!" Miyabi makes noises she has never made before, the shock exposes a ticklish weakness for which she has not trained. Her back arches, her arms clamp at her sides and eyes burst open, torn between squeaking or laughing and melding them together.
A distorted and evil snicker echoes through the hall as an enfeeblement rocks Miyabi's knees. Belle leaps for the door, which is strange because there's really no competition or anything, and lets her foe fall to the floor; but Miyabi has one last moment to react and regain her honour. Just as Belle almost touches the end, Miyabi reaches forth and ensnares the cheater's ankle in a vice grip. She looks up at her falling enemy, waiting for the result, praying to an almighty deity that Belle does not finish.
But Belle's fingers grace the door mid-tumble. She is consigned to the halls of victory, whereas Miyabi is consigned to the halls of shame. The chief of Section Six remains face-down on the floor, arm stretching forth for a victory that will never come, and she lays there until the annals of history themselves rot to nothing.
Belle kicks away the grasp on her ankle, and slides back down along the floor until they're lying together shoulder to shoulder. She's far too smug for someone who was only pretending there was some competition. She lies on her side and props herself on an elbow.
"Does that count as a fight?" Belle pokes Miyabi's shoulder. There is no reaction.
"Competition is childish." Miyabi pokes Belle's face. There is no reaction.
"Then why do you always train?"
"Not to compete, but simply to win."
"You lost."
"You cheated, Belle. Not that there was a scrimmage of any kind."
The stars glimmer in the window and watch them breathe out together. Deep in Miyabi's soul, as her eyes reflect Belle's face just as an ocean reflects the moon, a strange and foreign feeling flutters from her heart. Her body tightens, trying to keep it contained, but it's no use. The feeling presents itself without Miyabi's approval.
A tiny smile. She wiggles the tip of her shoe into the floor and scrunches her toes. It's just a strange little impulse squeezing this reaction out of her body, brought about by the adoring and adorable smile centred solely on herself. She lies there, looking into her friend, trying to source the happiness, but does she really have to think that hard? It's so nice to have someone look at her like this. In one life, she slays monsters. In another, she lies on a floor and Belle can drain her emotional inhibitions. What a world this is.
Belle smells her. Miyabi's smile turns into a straight line. Belle's nose crinkles as she takes in a scent like a pig snuffling for truffles, and Miyabi lies there, arms limp and cheeks reddening and eyes refusing to make contact. She wouldn't call it a mood killer, this is almost on brand, in fact.
"I can smell one of my own." Belle's gaze lords over Miyabi. She bops the thiren's nose and begins the terrible ordeal of standing up.
"What?" Miyabi blinks. She can't even grasp the edge of the implication or meaning. She liked being bopped.
Belle's warm hands clasp over her own. Miyabi allows the honour of being pulled up and to her feet. Neither can tell if the lingering of their fingers is actually lasting several seconds, or if it's just a second stretching as their smiles happen to meet. Miyabi ends it with one thought.
Homosexuals.
"Anyway, give me some money." Belle's arms flop into the door and shove it open.
Together, they enter the office.
The stars do not reach them in the grey office. An artificial succulent in a plastic pot does not rattle as the door creaks open. Stale air settles on papers with meaningless scribbles. Lukewarm water stagnates in a cooler. An efficient arrangement of four desks threaten to drain the joy from one's soul until they feel an urge to sit down and write paperwork. Miyabi feels nothing. It really is just some office.
Harumasa snoozes in the corner, a magazine on his face. His legs spread on the desk
"Harumasa," Belle bounces, but her steps mute themselves in the cold air. "Could I beat Miyabi in a fight, if I get to make the first attack?"
"Sure, why not?" Harumasa stretches. The magazine falls off his face and on the floor, revealing his sleepy eyes and a picture of Seth and other Pubsec officers rolling through the pages.
Miyabi ignores it and flits to her desk. In a drawer filled with nothing important, she finds her wallet, black leather decorated with stitching of a blue flower. Objective accomplished. Miyabi turns to her guest.
"Proxy, as chief of this division and a void hunter," she bends into a deep bow, "I extend my sincere apologies for the destruction of your telephote device."
"Hey, chief." Harumasa blinks before he swivels on his chair. He swivels twice for no other reason than he likes it. "Bringing up the whole of section six like that makes it sound like we're implicit in whatever you did. And need I point out how strange it is that you messed something up?"
"The failure of one member of section six is the failure of every member." Why, Miyabi makes it sound so obvious.
"You're the only one who smashed my TV." Belle leers.
"Chief, why did you smash her TV?"
Miyabi blinks. Flashbacks of Wise entering the bedroom as Belle started replaying a steamy movie scene flood her brain, and there are too many admissions she would have to make to answer that question. That's too scary a prospect now that Harumasa is leaning in with a waggling eyebrow. He could figure out too much. He must die.
"TV." Miyabi says. Her sharp eyes turn to the floor. If worst comes to worst and the conversation gets too awkward, she could always slice her way out through the floor.
"Forget it, pay up, so you can stop tensing your shoulders." Belle extends a greedy hand.
Miyabi attempts to unwind the stiffness of her joints and opens her wallet. Inside is a picture she doodled of her mother, surrounded by stars. She's considering it, waiting for thoughts and feelings to well up inside her. The magnetic pull of this latest drawing keeps her fixated for a moment.
"Announce the price of your device, Proxy."
"A million dennies."
"There you go."
Miyabi takes a million dennies out of her wallet. It's frankly unfeasible that it actually fit in her wallet, but here we are. Both Belle and Harumasa are silent and wide-eyed as she presents in both hands with a slight bow. Very business-like.
"I was joking, Miyabi." Belle taps her own forehead as if the money is exerting psychic pressure.
"Two million?" Miyabi opens her wallet again.
Harumasa feels it. Like a spider sensing the vibrations of its web, he takes in the aura, the very essence of his surroundings. We stand in the least romantic room in New Eridu, where attraction goes to die. Belle's likely real motive for coming here isn't actually reimbursement, she was hoping that being in the chief's work environment would provide some interesting conversation. Unfortunately, the chief is forsaking the single slither of social ability at her disposal to pretend to be professional. Worst of all, Harumasa himself is right here, and Soukaku or Yanagi could walk in at any time, and the chief doesn't know it yet, but having another person watch her is affecting her mentality. These two wacky little queers need a small push.
"Ladies," Harumasa steps between them and levels his hands as if controlling the ethereal flow of life in the universe, "I have a better idea. Belle, if you feel bad about taking advantage of my chief's naivety on economic matters, maybe the two of you should go out shopping together to find a new TV."
"Mister Harumasa, my guy, my brother, my wingman, that's a great idea!" Belle winks and raises a hand to the sky. He reciprocates, and she jumps in the air for a high-five.
"Lumina Square has quite the variety of stores, and a romantic little coffee shop, and a movie theatre with a host of romantic movies, and a romantic view of the sea, you and the chief could have a gay old time."
Miyabi does not seem to move, only to the untrained eye. Harumasa peers closer. In truth, Miyabi is emitting a side-eye so sharp that it could cut his soul to ribbons.
"Well, well, well, Miyabi," Belle slides up and runs a finger over her cheek, "sounds like my reimbursement just got upgraded to a date."
"Date."
Miyabi takes in the entirety of Belle, from head to toe. Carefree warmth that wraps the world around her in a gentle cadence. An acceptance of the strange behaviour of others without prejudice or commentary. The springiness that revolves through her body with each step. How nice it would be to cuddle her. To hold hands under a warm blanket. And with each thought, her consciousness takes a step further out of the room, to the point that she simply stands there, hand on her chin.
The door flies open with the force of a thousand missiles. Where one might assume a mountain of a warrior is bursting into the room, it's just a molehill of a warrior instead, and she's blue. The jingling of a backpack of snacks heralds the coming of Soukaku.
Soukaku gazes up at her chief as one would gaze at a panda in a zoo, and does not regard the others for a moment. Sensing an abnormality, she fishes through her backpack for the only thing that can right this strange wrong.
"Yabi? Tofu for your thoughts?" The oni girl holds an almond tofu pouch up to Miyabi's nose. The chief does not stir from the blue screen flashing in her mind's eye. Harumasa places his hand on Soukaku's wrist. He knows that nothing can save their leader now.
"Soukaku, there's a lot going through the chief's head, and we'll never know what's going on under the hood. Maybe she's thinking about why she's never had the dating experience before. Maybe she's thinking about her sexuality." He shakes his head in a deep despondency. "Whatever it is, all we know for sure is it's lesbian-related."
"What's a lesbian?" Soukaku's mouth is now inexplicably filled with an almond tofu pouch. "Are they edible?"
"Yes." Belle clicks her fingers.
"Yes." Miyabi blinks, emotionless. She continues staring off, eyes concerned and mouth barely open.
Why is there a resistance coming from deep within? Many shards of glass whirl through her mind, each reflect a feeling. They pass over her eyes, as she tries to reassemble them into a complete picture. But they're all so deeply fractured, impossible to see the edges, impossible to grasp without cutting her fingers. She peers at them.
It's kind of embarrassing and now two of her friends are watching her act in a very 'non-Miyabi-like' way. Not acting like the chief. Not acting like one of seven void hunters. Not like the woman who carves armies of ethereals. And Harumasa had to not-so-subtly push them into a date, she didn't get to approach the topic in her own way. But she was never going to be the one to ask Proxy on a frolic, anyway. And is she really the kind of person who has to be pushed into these things? That's sad. Why is it so awkward, anyway? If Wise didn't interrupt last night, she and Proxy might have gone on to do 'things.' But now that we're in a stuffy office, now, now of all times, it's too weird to be normal? And that stupid, useless word, 'normal.' Who wants to be this type of person-
Objectivity is doing nothing. This resistance is irrational, and it's winning. The glass shards cut too deep to handle, and now this has gone on for too long. The very act of standing here and saying nothing. It's awkward. Time to cut her way out through the floor.
"Chief, that's a lot of thinking you're doing right now, probably." Harumasa gives a gentle tap on her shoulder, but it's his jolly tones that wake her from her slumber. "But you can't seem to figure out what you want to do. We could make this so much easier with a bet."
"Gambling is illegal."
"Belle, if you can defeat the chief in battle, and you get the handicap of making the first attack, she has to go on a date with you, and, heavens forbid, add some normality to her personal life."
"Deal." Miyabi's aura wraps her in murderous intent. Her face does not change, though.
"Deal!" Belle bounces.
"Wowee, we're about to watch the chief commit state-sanctioned murder!" Soukaku's eyes shine bright.
"Strike me with all you have, if you dare." Miyabi plants her feet into a right-angle stance, she straightens her back and readies her mind for to deal with any and all martial art strikes. A heavy darkness takes over her face.
Belle takes her hands. Gentle warmth creeps through their fingers, through Miyabi's arms, up to her face and softens her eyes like melting snowballs. The darkness peels away, as Belle unleashes a strike so devastating that it could be considered a war crime in some civilisations.
Belle kisses her on the lips. Being kissed on the lips. This is a kiss on the lips. Miyabi's mind unravels and expands into dimensions not meant to be recognised by a mortal being. Tingling erupts from her heart. Belle's eyes stay shut, but Miyabi can't help watching Belle pressing their mouths together. Watching the strands of blue hair. Watching the kind face. Knees weaken and wobble and embarrassment paints her face in scarlet and fingers mingle together, and as these strange sensations bubble beneath her skin, an impulse takes over; lean in further. A hot breath passes between them both, and Miyabi has only one thing to say.
"Wuh, women…"
Miyabi collapses like a spider hit with a rolled up newspaper. Eyes seal shut. Limbs stiffen in place. The once-unknown joy of being desirable enough for cute women to kiss has drained her of all vitality. The soul departs.
"Chief, stay with me!" Soukaku drops to her knees beside the fallen swordmaster like a priest coming out to read the last rites. But not all hope is lost, as Soukaku cracks her fingers together just as paramedics slam defibrillators together, and she begins the CPR process. One, two, three, four…
The oni looks back at them with teary eyes. The prognosis is not good. Harumasa puts a solemn hand on her shoulder, but he rises back up with a spring in his step. He claps his hands and meanders next to the stone-cold murderer.
"Guess you're the new void hunter, now. Congratulations, Belle."
"It's about time my martial abilities were recognised by the world." Belle swishes her hair with a twirly flourish.
"And I have one less person in the office who can find me sneaking away from work."
Over the dying body of Miyabi being compressed by a distraught oni girl, Belle and Harumasa fist bump so hard that heavens quake and gods fall from their thrones. As she takes her last breath, Miyabi finally lets go of it all. The whirling glass of spooky emotions vanish, and she's left with one final thought.
'I'm glad it ended up like this.'