Chapter 01: Tokyo Area Holiday
CHAPTER 01
TOKYO AREA HOLIDAY
1
The edge of the sky had just begun to whiten a bit, the thin veneer of red tightening its grasp over the air before sunrise. The rain from the previous day had collected in puddles in the alley, likewise dampening the trees and delivering much-needed nourishment to the undergrowth below.
To young Rentaro Satomi, this particular commute to school was a bit more stressful than usual. Or maybe that stress was being transmitted to him thanks to the girl in pigtails, standing in front of him with her body turned to look at him.
Enju Aihara tugged at both shoulder straps on the bright red backpack she wore.
“I’m outta here.”
Rentaro patted both her shoulders. “One more reminder before you do, Enju. Do not use your powers—for any reason. And skip all your gym classes, too. If you ever get a cut or something—”
“‘Cover it with your hand and run off somewhere secluded, don’t show it healing to anyone,’ blah, blah, blah, right? You ever got anything else to say to me?”
“Hmm… All right.”
Do I really repeat myself that much? Rentaro wondered. He scratched his head over the thought while Enju gave him a fearless smile. “I’m gonna make it this time, okay?” she declared before whirling her ponytails around and raising her hand in a sharp salute. This didn’t exactly put Rentaro at ease, but if Enju was that resolute, there was no point applying further pressure.
Soon, whether she knew about her friend’s concerns or not, Enju disappeared into the early-morning mist without another look back.
“Did she go?”
Rentaro turned around to find an attractive young girl in a black school uniform standing in front of the dojo entrance, accompanied by a girl with blonde hair and emerald-green eyes. Apparently they’d just wrapped up morning practice, what with Kisara Tendo wiping the sweat from her still-flushed cheeks with a towel.
“You worried about her?” she asked.
“Not really…” Rentaro looked back toward the mist-laden path that led to Enju’s school. “It’s more like, ‘Good for her to try school again,’ you know?”
This seemed to somehow put off Kisara as she gave him a side glance.
“People can’t live by themselves, you know. No man is an island.”
Rentaro frowned. “Jeez, she’s got me, doesn’t she?”
It was meant as a show of strength, but then Rentaro realized what it truly was. Here they were, Enju’s grand first day of elementary school at a new place, and neither he nor Enju let themselves act like they were enjoying it at all. Was it really something to celebrate, after all, seeing the time come when she finally wiped the dust off that backpack in a corner of her room? Enju had already been driven from one school after being exposed as one of the Cursed Children—and the open-air classroom she attended afterward ended in even more tragic circumstances.
She was cursed, detested. She had every right to wail about her body, to indulge herself in pity. But she didn’t.
Rentaro never thought for a moment that he had a decent education. That, on the other hand, was one of Enju’s strengths. If there was anything he felt proud about, it was helping her accept herself and access her potential.
All the local schools had worked in tandem with one another to blacklist Enju, so she was traveling to a pretty remote elementary school instead. That was the main reason Enju was up this early—just to travel to class.
“What about you, though, Tina?” Rentaro asked the blonde girl nearby, as she, too, looked down Enju’s path.
“I wanna get some more time to think about it, thanks. Including whether I even need school in the first place.”
“…”
She had a point. Ten years on from that calamity, in this dying world, was there any real indication in life that going to school and finding a regular job was the right thing to do? It was one of the core questions that tugged at the mind of any man or woman, and Tina was running smack-dab into it. In many ways, it was similar to the emptiness people like Rentaro and Kisara, themselves part of the Stolen Generation, were doomed to grapple with.
There was a small rumbling sound from somewhere. Rentaro stopped. Once he realized it was an airplane engine, he spotted a shining dot in the western skies. As its rumbling grew louder, the dot grew larger and larger; just as it seemed to loom impossibly gigantic above them, the craft zoomed by at supersonic speed, leaving a delayed but surprisingly strong wind behind it.
Rentaro shaded his eyes as he looked up; the nearby trees rustled violently, sending a pile of shredded leaves flying through the air. The dot flew away, fast as ever, and already he had to squint to see it.
“Eesh,” Kisara whined as she spat out bits of leaf that went in her mouth. “Are they scrambling this early in the morning?”
“That’s a supporter fighter from the Tokyo Area force, isn’t it? I thought most of ’em got shot down in the Third Kanto Battle.”
“They manufactured a bunch more at breakneck speed, I heard. It’s still kind of just a staring contest right now, but if it actually gets to be a fight, I don’t like our chances all too much. It’s hard to imagine we’re on equal footing with Sendai right now.”
“…You think there’ll really be a war?” a concerned Tina asked.
Rentaro was about to say something to reassure her but stopped just before he began. This time, at least, he had no idea how things would turn out.
“They haven’t contacted you at all, either, Satomi,” a dejected-sounding Kisara said.
Rentaro snorted at the thought. “Why would my name come up? There’s no room for a civsec in international warfare.”
“No, but…like, you’ve gotten pretty involved in stuff like this over the past little while, so…”
“Yeah, well, it’s too complicated this time. Not like the Kanto Battle. If the government needs anybody right now, it’s not civsecs. It’s diplomats who know how to negotiate.”
Rentaro shrugged, only to feel something warm on his palm. The sun was just about ready to peek out above the horizon, its light already making the ground shine.
Kisara clapped her hands, like a teacher asking for her class’s attention.
“Well, it’s times like these when it’s important we stick to the daily routine, all right? We better get ready for school, too. Don’t wanna be late!”
2
To Enju Aihara, this new environment felt totally unique, nothing like Magata Elementary School or the open-air classroom. It was a higher-quality school, meant for gifted kids on a college track, so that had something to do with it—but that wasn’t all.
The Gastrea factor within her body gave her a keener sense of smell than most people, and walking down the hallway, she couldn’t help but notice the strong scent of adrenaline all around. Hallways full of fear and mental strain.
Meeting up with her new homeroom teacher in her office did little to change that impression. She was Ms. Yagara, a middle-aged woman, and her laugh lines were so deep that Enju thought she might be able to stick a finger in one of them. They went even deeper whenever she so much as smiled. But despite that (as well as her unusually enormous lips), her eyes were tiny little dots, giving her a coldhearted villain look. This wasn’t the type of teacher you would want to actively discuss personal issues with too much.
After some quick guidance, the homeroom bell rang and Enju was guided into the fourth-year Group Five classroom. It was time to introduce herself, and although her parental guardians often marveled at her utter lack of restraint, being planted in front of nearly forty pairs of eyes was enough to give even her pause.
“My name is Enju Aihara… I’m transferring into this school because of my parents. It’s good to meet you.”
She had a longer self-intro prepared but wound up toning it down for the big moment. The teacher motioned to a window-side seat in the far back row, apparently meant for her.
“Wow, transferring at a time like this,” she heard someone whisper. It was true. Having this overlap with that whole Libra crisis was a real bummer—in several ways, selfish and otherwise.
“All right, everyone,” Ms. Yagara said, demonstrating no particularly unusual interest in Enju, “I know people are all pretty nervous right now, but treat her well, all right?”
“Ms. Yagara! Hey, Ms. Yagara!” espoused a rather eager-looking boy in the front row, hand raised. “Why do we have to keep going to school if Funagasaki Elementary next door gave all the kids off?”
Nobody dared nod or show any other physical assent, but everyone in class gave him a silent agreement.
Ms. Yagara gave an ever-so-thin smile. “Well, all of your parents have sent you here so we can help you grow up and become fine young men and women. Besides, your parents wouldn’t want you to fall behind in your studies, now would they?”
It was odd. Her tone was prim, practiced, and calm, but it was clear from her voice that she would tolerate no further dissent.
But what made everyone in class tighten their expressions was what she did afterward, taking out her class student ledger without warning.
“Now, then, I know this is sudden…”
There it was. That awkward mental strain. The smell of adrenaline Enju detected before. And it was notably, overwhelmingly in fact, coming more strongly from the girls than the boys.
Turning her eyes toward the teacher’s desk, Enju saw the cold, curving smile on Ms. Yagara, an expression of pure sadistic joy.
“But I’ve got some special news for you all today! You probably know about Kamo over in Group Two, but all the teachers have decided to remove her from class. She’s already been turned over to the IISO, which is the perfect place for Gastrea-Virus carriers like her.”
Enju’s body froze. Sweat poured out of her body.
“This means that there are no more carriers in our school, and I hope all of you will continue to be the best students you can possibly be for me. That is all. Oh, yes! I apologize for springing this on our new student Aihara so quickly, but we’re all going on a field trip to an electrical plant in the Outer District two days from now, so I’d like everyone to form groups for me today, all right?”
Her heels clacked against the floor as she left the room.
Homeroom was over, and the students all chatted with one another during the short break that ensued. Enju, forgetting to wipe the sweat she was soaked in, kept her head down and clawed at her knees. She barely felt alive.
“Hey, I know Ms. Yagara’s pretty high-strung, but don’t let it bother you, okay?”
Surprised, Enju turned to her side. A girl was there, wearing a horizontal-striped skirt and a short jacket, making her look a bit like an actress from several decades ago. She must have been nervous, because she was twiddling her thumbs behind her like she was hiding something and rubbing her legs together, a self-effacing smile emerging from underneath her fluffy curls. The smile must have been what she employed to keep people from thinking she was some kind of freak, but Enju could tell she had a shy streak as well.
The girl fearfully pointed at Enju’s desk.
“Aihara, is that…?”
She followed her eyes down to the laptop PCs they used for class. Enju’s had a gaggle of Tenchu Girls stickers plastered on the back.
Drumming up all her resolve, the girl revealed what she was holding behind her back. It was a tablet, another classroom accessory, but the moment Enju’s eyes fell on the back panel behind the modular screen, she lit up.
“Wh-whoa! A Tenchu Red special-color panel! You had to write in to Girls’ Dream magazine to get that!”
Even the tablet’s stylus was fully Tenchu Girls–themed. It was the complete package. Who is this girl? she thought as she sized her up again. The girl waved the tablet around in the air, snickering the snicker of someone who’d just found a fellow comrade.
“Whoa, no way! So you’re commuting all the way from Magata, Enju?”
“Yeah,” Enju replied as she chewed on the bread roll that came with lunch. “It takes ninety minutes to get here. I have to switch trains and everything.”
The curly-haired girl, head down, was busy twirling yakisoba noodles with her fork.
“Huh. You said it was because of your parents, right? Man, that’s rough. This is kind of a gifted school, too, so we get a lot of homework sometimes.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. Oh, and you better watch out for Ms. Katakura, the science teacher, okay? ’Cause she totally picks kids to answer questions when they have, like, no idea.”
Enju crossed her arms and nodded grimly. Every school had at least one teacher like that. The girl snickered in response.
By the time their lunch break came around, Enju and the curly-haired girl had firmly hit it off with each other. For Enju, it was reassuring—finding someone so quickly to show her around, teach her the ins and outs of school customs, and not mess around with her too much along the way. She said her name was Momoka Hieda, and already Enju and Momoka were ditching pretty much all formalities.
“Oh, hey, I live on the way to the train station. You think maybe we could walk together?”
“Sure. No problem at all.”
The girl brought both hands together and smiled. “That’s really great!”
Pretty cute of her, the analytical part of Enju’s mind said, until she realized something else: Was this the kind of girl Rentaro liked?
That contrast made her think about exactly how much the parts of her mind differed.
“Hey, um, Momoka? What was with that…thing in the morning?”
The question had been filed in the back of Enju’s mind for a little while now. Enju figured the time had come to ask.
“Thing? What thing?”
“Y’know, the news about that girl leaving school.”
Momoka grinned, finally picking up on the topic. “Oh, yeah, that was super awkward, wasn’t it? I hate it when it’s like that. But a lot of people are totally in this ‘expose the virus’ kick here in school, and Ms. Yagara’s pretty much their leader and stuff.”
“So, that Kamo girl who got kicked out… Was she one of those, uh, Cursed Children or whatever they call them?”
The girl shook her head, a bit bewildered.
“I dunno.”
Enju’s eyes opened wide. “You don’t?”
“No, I…I mean, our school’s kind of different, you know? Like, I don’t think it really matters if they’re actually Cursed or not. If people start suspecting you, you get taken to the IISO. And even if the IISO tests you and you’re not a carrier after all, like… It’s kinda hard to be around here, once you’re back. A lot of kids quit school after that. I heard a rumor that the school accuses kids they don’t like too much of being carriers so the IISO can take them away from the place.”
Aha. That explains why everyone in class—especially the girls—were so on edge back there. Rentaro told her once about how schools could be pretty closed-off, cliquish spaces at times, leading to situations you’d never expect to see anywhere else. This must be what he was talking about.
The girl in front of Enju flashed a broad smile, perhaps trying to cheer up her suddenly silent new friend.
“Like, as if any of us could even be Red-Eyes anyway, y’know?”
Enju offered a vague smile in response.
“Dahh! Okay, how about this: In episode thirteen of Tenchu Girls, ‘Rage of the Sprawling Weeds,’ you know how they fished up Carpatron from the lake? That’s not, like, for real, is it?”
“I think they had one of the staff actually go over to the lake to fish there first so it’d be more realistic in story form.”
“Oh. So what about ‘Waiting for Godot,’ episode twenty-one of the second season? Like, Tenchu Red spent the whole thirty minutes sitting in this chair waiting for Godot and talking about God and stuff. I read on the net that it was an homage to this guy named Samuel Beckett, but…”
“Yeah, I heard this overworked screenwriter had a mental breakdown and wrote that script, and the crew did it as kind of a joke. Like, make it all artsy and fancy, you know?”
“……”
“Oh, but did you know—? The final episode of the second season? Where they go into Kozuke-nosuke Kira’s house to take him down? Well, it actually turns out Kira used clone tech to create seven copies of himself!”
“Whoa, whoa! Spoilers! I haven’t seen that one yet!” Enju shouted, putting her hands on her ears. Momoka laughed.
The two were on their way home after what wound up being a pretty breezy curriculum for the day. It was a clear, warm summerlike day in September, the unrelenting sun tormenting their skin, but Enju’s legs couldn’t have felt any lighter. The sunflowers that infested the edges of school grounds were practically falling over themselves to smile at her, the cicadas summoning up their last reserves of energy to serenade the two in song.
“Boy, am I glad I went to school today.”
Momoka lifted up her straw hat to take in the full sun on her face. She raised an eyebrow. “Why’s that?”
“’Cause I got to meet you, Momoka.”
The brim of the hat went back down as Momoka hid her face. She must not have been used to people expressing themselves so frankly like that. “Me too,” she replied, her voice almost lost among the insect cries.
Then Momoka found her body being hugged tightly, as if someone had just rammed into her.
“Mom!” Momoka exclaimed, still a little bewildered at the woman who suddenly appeared. The confusion cleared up once she looked at her mother’s face.
“Oh, thank heavens… Are you all right?” the woman said. She had on bronze-framed glasses, along with a lamé-finished black pantsuit, making her look like a career-track businesswoman and a helicopter parent in the making. An expensive-looking car was parked a couple steps away; she must have leaped out of it when she spotted Momoka.
“I heard there was a Red-Eyes at your school, and oh, I was just beside myself… Did she touch you or anything? She might’ve given you the virus.”
“Oh, Mom, you don’t have to worry so much! Oh, uh, lemme introduce you, Enju. This is my mother.”
Momoka seemed glad to show off her mom. The woman gave a polite nod.
“Oh, thanks for making good friends with our little Momoka! I know she can be a little shy, but play nice with her, all right?”
Momoka gave her mother a playful knee. “Oh, Mommmm! Stop doing that all the time!”
“You have to wonder what those kids are thinking, though, always sneaking into school like that. Ugh, it makes me sick just thinking about it! And, you know, one of my neighbors told me that you’re more likely to give birth to a Red-Eyes if you didn’t want the child in the first place.”
“Oh, really? ’Cause this kid in school said you could get one if you had something called an orgy.”
“Momoka! Don’t use that word! You’re still too young for that.”
“That’s not true.”
“Huh? What’d you say, Enju?”
Momoka turned an ear to her, eyes large and round. “Oh, hey, Enju, why don’t you come over to my place? We could watch the second-season finale together!”
Enju lifted up her gloomy face and practically gritted her teeth, such was the effort required to force out a smile.
“Sorry, I got some stuff to do this afternoon.”
Then she turned around and ran off to the station.
3
The pleasant scent of boiling soy sauce and mirin permeated the room as Rentaro flipped the contents of the frying pan with his wrist. Waiting for the food to reach the perfect level of cooking, he turned off the gas.
The doorbell chose that moment to ring. Checking his watch, he found it was already eight in the evening. Untying his apron as he opened the door, Rentaro was greeted by a tan deliveryman. “Could I get you to sign this?” he said, wielding a pen.
Rentaro picked it up and beckoned to Enju, who was watching TV inside. After a moment, she bounded over, eyes burning with curiosity. Rentaro took the opportunity to use her head as a table to sign the receipt and return it to the deliveryman. He gave them a weird look and left.
“Ah, it’s just so much more comfortable writing on your head, you know?”
Enju, apparently treating even this as a compliment, gave out a little squeal of approval. “What’s in the box, though?” she asked, her curiosity returning.
Rentaro pushed her head away as she opened it. It contained two tickets. Peering at the tiny text printed on them, she realized it was a pair of free passes for the observation deck of a newly built skyscraper in nearby Magata.
They were apparently reserved for the night of the next local fireworks show, and according to the letter inside, they were from an old client—a convenience store, if Rentaro recalled correctly, having problems with some street punks hanging out there at night. The letter thanked him again, ran down everything going on since then, and invited him to enjoy some fireworks for a change of pace.
Rentaro had mixed feelings about this, but Enju was already intoning “Ohhhhhhh!” with a ticket held aloft in both arms, eyes sparkling. “We’re gonna have to thank the guy who sent these to us! I can’t wait for the summer festival.”
“Uh, yeah—about that, Enju…” Rentaro turned back toward her. “They’re probably gonna have to cancel it.”
“Why?”
It was hard to watch Enju look doe-eyed at him like that, but Rentaro continued. “Things are still pretty tense with Sendai Area,” he dispassionately explained. “They’re sending patrol planes back and forth to intimidate each other. All it’d take is one spark to set something off, so even holding a fireworks show could be enough to push Sendai over the brink.”
The neighborhood association wasn’t stupid enough to fail to notice that. Chances were they’d cancel the entire festival. He expected this to crush Enju, but she was still every bit as excited as before.
“Okay, so I’ll fix everything up before the festival! Then it’ll be held on schedule, right?”
“Ah, there you go again with your silly nonsense…”
This problem was a little too thorny for even her to help fix, but he had to appreciate the way she could instantly pep up her spirits like that.
“Right, but let’s leave that topic behind for a sec…”
“Leave it behind?”
Rentaro placed both hands on Enju’s shoulders and brought his face close to hers.
“I got food ready.”
Bringing out a low table, Rentaro took the bowls of rice at both stations and poured a combination of chicken, onions, and a soft-boiled egg that made its way into every nook and cranny of the dish. He felt justifiably proud of the work, and the sauce-sweetened scent of dinner wafted in the air, lovingly caressing Enju’s nose.
“Eeeeeeee!”
She jumped up and down, hands still on the table, unable to restrain herself another minute.
“All right, Aihara—do you know what this dish is called?”
“Oyako-don, a chicken-and-egg rice bowl!” she explained, all smiles as she wiggled her rear end in the air. “Ooh, but to you and me, it’s more of a looooovers’ bowl, right?”
“That doesn’t exist.”
“Well, make a recipe and give it to me! Something as hot and sweaty as you and me!”
“Yeah, sure. I better think up a recipe for freeloader’s rice while I’m at it, too. Something that goes cold on you in, like, five seconds.”
Rentaro sat at the table, closed his eyes, solemnly brought the chopsticks to his mouth, and chewed. The sweet soy intermingled perfectly with the just-runny-enough egg. Yes. This works. Good job, me. I wish my compatriots, the dirt-poor demon girl in the kitchen and bunny rabbit Initiator, could learn a little something from this.
He opened an eye to find Enju rapidly packing away the bowl. Can’t be that bad for her, either, he reasoned.
“Hey, how did school go today, Enju?”
Enju smiled back, a bit of rice on her cheek. “I made a friend!”
“Get into any problems or anything?”
Enju opened her mouth to say something but stopped and shook her head instead, smiling wryly.
“…”
Her refusal to immediately answer said enough. If Enju was opting to keep it under wraps, it didn’t feel right for him to badger her.
“Enju, you can just laugh this off if I’m being too paranoid, but…don’t be hesitant or anything just because I picked on you just now, all right?”
“Wh-why’re you bringing that up?”
“I just mean, if you ever run into any problems you can’t solve by yourself, don’t be afraid to call on me. No matter what, I’m always gonna be at your side, okay?”
There was no telling how many times Enju might’ve hesitated over it in the past. For now, she just flashed an embarrassed smile and said, “Sure, all right.”
Rentaro was just about to pull back and tell her to eat up while it was still hot when the doorbell rang again. Who could that be? he wondered as he stood up and opened the door, a little peeved.
Suddenly, something pure white flew in. He caught it in his arms, experiencing its soft texture up close and personal. Carefully, he cast his eyes downward, toward his chest. A pair of watery eyes greeted him, and his heart skipped a beat.
“You have to hide me, Mr. Satomi!”
“L-Lady Seitenshi?”
There was no mistaking the sight. It was the head of state, almost blindingly beautiful when viewed from point-blank range.
“Rentaro! No boobs!”
Rentaro froze at the uninvited commentary behind him as the Seitenshi hurriedly extracted herself.
“Wha…? What do you mean, ‘hide’ you?” he asked. “What’re you even doing here—?”
The leader of Tokyo Area stretched out and stared into Rentaro’s eyes.
“Would you mind if I explained inside?”
The Satomi residence, a single room around eight tatami mats large, had few perks described as desirable, apart from the low rent and the ability to befriend its many cockroaches. It was a classic dive. The plumbing was like a never-ending comedy sketch—fix one leak, another one appeared down the pipe. The lack of soundproofing gave you a front-row seat at the radio drama of the couple next door tossing pots and pans at each other in the evenings.
Having a radiant, princesslike figure seated daintily in this hovel was a pretty unusual sight to behold. The perfumelike rose scent emanating from her did nothing to ease his mind at all. It showed, once again, just how beautiful she was.
Rentaro, hearing the Seitenshi’s story with arms crossed, then lifted her head upward.
“So the guys in the palace drummed you out, and you wanna enlist me to help you get away from them?”
“Precisely.”
“And you don’t want to tell me why.”
“Precisely.”
“Could you screw around with me like this some other time?”
Rentaro’s attempt at a little hard cajoling was met with an even harder stare. Her eyes indicated exactly what kind of will she had to see this through. He scratched his head in response. Well, great. This ain’t good.
“Look, do you even realize what’s going on in Tokyo Area right now?”
“All too well, I am afraid.”
“And despite that, you still aren’t planning on going back to the palace?”
“I am not.”
“How did you escape the palace in the first place, even?”
“I cut up a curtain, fashioned it into a makeshift rope, climbed out of the window, and boarded the back of a palace food delivery truck.”
Rentaro and Enju gave each other a surprised glance. Even Enju betrayed a bit of concern at this news. Was that all it took to elude the palace guard?
“…Uh, so how’re you planning to pay my fee, anyway?”
“With this.”
The Seitenshi nonchalantly removed a card from her white handbag. It was bare, case-free—she must not have been in the habit of carrying a wallet around—and judging by its silver color, Rentaro had a hunch things like credit limits and location restrictions didn’t apply to this sucker.
“How’d you make it all the way over here?”
The Seitenshi gave Rentaro a funny look, apparently not understanding the point of the question.
“Well, via public transport, but…”
“Um, so you got off the train at Magata Station?”
“Yes…?”
Greeeeat. Rentaro slapped his forehead with his palm. Apparently one of Tokyo Area’s most famous people didn’t realize that using credit cards meant creating a virtual paper trail for yourself. And when—not if—her pursuers found out she was at Magata Station, it’d be a cinch for Rentaro’s house to come up in the conversation.
His gut was telling him to turn this case down immediately. The Seitenshi didn’t notice. She was too busy studying Rentaro’s apartment, checking out the furniture and fixtures, novel in her eyes, before settling her eyes on the bath.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Satomi, but would I be able to use your bath?”
“The bath?”
He was about to ask why, but then he saw the mud on the hem of her outfit. One of her ankles was also swollen. Where could she have possibly been wandering before she came here? Thinking about it, he decided she must have fled the palace the day before. An entire night and day had passed until she made it here. She couldn’t have been lost that whole time. Even she must have realized, Rentaro supposed, that making a beeline for the Satomi residence would instantly bring him under suspicion.
But in the end something about her troubles must’ve driven her to finally ring that doorbell. Or was that just Rentaro being overly generous with her again? It was all making her impatient, especially the sharp-eyed girl in front of her, and Rentaro couldn’t help but feel a little pity for the Seitenshi.
“Ahhhh, all right. Use the bath all you want,” he said, turning a finger toward the door.
“Excuse me, then,” the Seitenshi responded as she stood and went inside.
Soon, in the soggy, miniscule changing area, Rentaro could hear friction between clothing and skin as the Seitenshi’s dress fell to the floor. Even through the glass door, it was amazing how supple her body’s silhouette was—and as Rentaro’s heart quickened, the silhouette’s bra dropped down as well. Surprised, he turned back to Enju. She had a fist hidden under the table, cheeks pushed out in a high state of annoyance.
“You’re studying her way more closely than me when I undress!”
He had never “studied” her body at all—all three measurements were the same numerical value, for one—but Rentaro knew saying that would make her snap at him again. So he took the tactic of facing the opposite wall while holding his ears shut. That oughta work.
Ignoring the muffled sound of splashing water, Rentaro decided to take that moment to rewire and reorganize his thoughts. If he took this job, he’d have to take action at once. There were no handy hiding places in this apartment—even if there was, there was no way she’d escape the notice of a palace-hired professional investigator.
Then the doorbell rang a third time. Ah, jeez, they’re already on to her?
Before he could act, though, he heard someone turning the key, unlocking the door, and turning the knob. There, standing tall, was none other than the cold-as-ice president of the Tendo Civil Security Agency. Her eyes were full of jealousy as she stormed in, her feet making sixteenth-note steps as she did.
“I smell perfume.”
“Huh?”
“There’s a girl here besides Enju and Tina, isn’t there? It’s Miori, isn’t it?”
Kisara swiveled her head around, walked up to the low table, and crossed her arms.
“That,” she said, “and look at you. You’re sitting bolt upright.”
“Y-yeah,” Rentaro weakly replied to the verbal onslaught.
She narrowed her eyes into slits as she looked at him. “Look, Satomi. If you’re wondering what it is I don’t like about Miori, I’ll tell you—it’s that she knows you’re my personal possession, but she still does stuff like leave her toiletry kit in your place, or a spare pair of undergarments, or she throws away my hair dryer without asking…! And you know what else? You know the cup you put your blue toothbrush in, Satomi? Well, she goes and lines it up with my red one, or marks it with her initials and stuff! I haaaaate that! Are you even listening?”
Rentaro had been ignoring Kisara, including her now-reddened cheeks and near-shout of a voice, because he was too busy thinking about when to come clean to her about the Seitenshi. They were both interrupted by the sound of the shower starting up. Kisara rolled her eyes over to it.
“In there, huh?”
“Hey, wait a…”
Kisara, wasting no time, stormed toward the bathroom. She was just a few inches from Rentaro’s grasp when the door opened.
“Wh-whooooooaaaaaa?!”
“…Aaaaaggggghhhhh!”
Well, too late for that, then. Rentaro hung his head in shame at the two different screams emanating from his washroom. But as he did so, a light bulb went off; he slapped a fist in the palm of his hand.
That’s it. The perfect hiding place for the Seitenshi.
Thirty minutes later.
The doorbell rang for a record fourth time that day. Here we go, Rentaro thought as he prepared to act as peeved as possible before opening up.
“You’re Rentaro Satomi?”
A well-built, gray-haired man appeared, sticking a foot inside without asking. Rentaro looked down. He had a foot in position to block Rentaro from slamming the door in his face. The thick leather on his shoes indicated that he’d have no trouble doing so.
“What?”
“I’m with the palace. I can’t tell you why, but I need to search your home.”
“Why d’you have to do that? Go away.”
“I’m afraid I can’t.”
The man called for someone behind him. They were invisible to Rentaro before, but suddenly a small herd of officials in white suits and palace emblems stormed into the room, passing by the increasingly flustered Rentaro. “Search everywhere,” the gray-haired man said. “Under the tatami mats, over the ceilings—everything!” Enju, too busy tackling the rice bowl again, gave the men a mean look.
“Hashiba?”
Hashiba, the gray-haired man, turned toward the searcher talking to him and nodded. They were in front of the bathroom, the shower still running inside.
“There’s nothing in there!”
“That’s for us to decide,” Hashiba warned as he pushed the door separating the bathroom from the living room. The moment he opened the door to the bath area, he found a cloud of dense fog and a short scream from the silhouette inside.
“Oh, excuse me!” Hashiba said as he tore out of the bathroom, using a handkerchief to wipe his brow. “I wish you could’ve told me that Miss Tendo was in there beforehand.”
“I would’ve if you had bothered listening.”
“Hashiba! I can’t find her!”
Hashiba turned toward the voice. Two of his lackeys, one examining the tatami mats and the other the ceiling, gave him disappointed looks.
Rentaro opted to cross his arms like an overbearing mother.
“So, uh, what are you doing here?”
Hashiba’s forehead wrinkled as he agonized over the question. Then he took a business card out of his suit and put it in Rentaro’s hand.
“You can bill the palace for the damage. If Lady Seitenshi ever visits your home, I want you to use this number to contact me.”
Hashiba lifted his chin in a “Let’s roll” gesture as he and his men filed out, just as briskly as they had entered. Once the last of them was out of sight, Rentaro pushed down the foot pedal on his trash can and tossed Hashiba’s card inside. “You can come out now,” he shouted into the air as he turned around.
A few moments later, an embarrassed-looking young woman stepped out of the bathroom, arms hugging herself around her black school uniform. Behind her was the Seitenshi, trying to pretend nothing had just happened. Her hands were clasped in front of her in astonishment.
“Well done, Mr. Satomi! That was a perfect plan.”
“Uh, there was nothing at all perfect about that,” Kisara protested. “They all got to look at me naked!”
Not even Hashiba could have guessed that there, amidst the thick mist covering the bathroom, was the Seitenshi, body plastered against the wall in a blind spot from the entryway.
“Is that your new ninja skill?” Enju asked. “Your ‘Ladies’ Room Barrier of Death Jutsu’?” She made a few ninja-style moves with her hands to illustrate, evoking giggles from the Seitenshi.
“So?” Rentaro asked, scratching his head.
“So,” Enju replied, “I assume that means we’re taking her request.”
“Actually, I do have one more request. The real one I have to make, if anything.”
“Ah, crap, do you ever bring me any good news?”
The Seitenshi smiled thinly at Rentaro’s complaint as she crossed her arms.
“President Tendo…Mr. Satomi…I’d like you to bring back two items for me. One is called Solomon’s Ring, and the other is the Scorpion’s Neck.”
4
The crystalline object the Seitenshi brought with her was a shade of royal blue, compact enough that an uninformed observer would have assumed it was a sapphire jewel. She instructed Rentaro to turn down the lights; when he did, the crystal shone a deep blue, and suddenly a giant holographic model appeared in the center of the room. The light displayed a building that resembled a factory.
“The incident took place five days ago at a laboratory in Russia.”
The model, reacting to her voice, expanded out and populated with a set of photographs. There was a machine room with parts lying all over the place, traces of blood and tape outlines on the floor. Probably taken by the local police, Rentaro assumed. The room had been fairly well ransacked. It was clear the criminals were looking for something. The tape and the bloodstains were the only things the victims had left for the world.
Rentaro, chopsticks in hand, frowned as he shifted his gaze between his rice bowl and the images projected in front of him. It wasn’t exactly his choice of dinner entertainment.
“Somebody broke into this lab and made off with some top-secret research material.”
“The ‘items’ you were talking about earlier?” Enju asked quizzically.
The Seitenshi courteously nodded. “One of them, yes. The work was being conducted under the code name Solomon’s Ring. I believe it’s involved with the current case we’re facing here, in some way or another.”
“Solomon’s Ring?” Kisara interjected. “The ring from the legend of King Solomon that lets him talk to animals and stuff?”
Rentaro gave her a look of admiration. She pouted in response. “Everyone should know that much.”
“So,” Rentaro said, turning back to the Seitenshi, “is that ring what you want us to get back for you?”
“It’s just a code name, as I mentioned before. In reality, it is a translation device—one the Russian government is developing to communicate with Gastrea.”
“Wha—?!”
Rentaro wasn’t the only one taken aback. He exchanged glances with Kisara and Enju, both rendered statuelike.
“They can do that…?”
The Seitenshi shook her head. “Just in a very limited, fractional manner. It sounds like they’ve been able to communicate simple ideas to the Gastrea, although they don’t know what all the screams and cries in response mean.”
“So, what did these guys break into the lab for?”
“I’ll admit that I did not pay particular attention to the incident when I first heard about it. Not until Libra appeared.”
“Wait…”
The Seitenshi’s narrowed eyes shone in the dimness. “At almost the same time, someone broke into a research lab in Tokyo Area and massacred the researchers inside. Between the location and their modus operandi, it’s almost certainly the same group. And while they were there…”
“…They took that ‘Scorpion’s Neck’ thing?”
The moment the name came up, Rentaro had already resigned himself somewhat to his fate. He recalled his battle with the Zodiac Gastrea Scorpion, the Stage Five that appeared during Kagetane Hiruko’s assault on the city, one of the strongest of all Gastrea, and the one that made Rentaro’s current path in life all but unavoidable. It was not a name he was expecting to ever hear again.
“Precisely. We had recovered the body of Scorpion after you two—the Rentaro Satomi/Enju Aihara pair—destroyed it, and we were having them research it in secret.”
“Would asking why be a stupid question?”
“Gastrea cadavers, particularly Zodiac-class ones, are extremely difficult to come by. There are hundreds of research groups that would give their right arm for even a few tissue samples.”
“So, what do these two break-ins have to do with Libra?” Kisara couldn’t help but ask.
“Ever since eleven Zodiac Gastrea appeared at the same time worldwide ten years ago, we’ve theorized that Stage Five–level creatures can ‘speak’ to one another through their cries. And when they took Scorpion’s Neck—or, to be exact, the vocal cords we extracted from Scorpion—and gave them an electrical stimulus while steeped in a cellular activator, it generated a mixture of electrical and sonic waves. It just sounds like information-free noise to us, so it’s been a mystery to wave-analysis researchers across the world.”
“And the Solomon’s Ring translator might be the key to solving that riddle?”
“Like I said,” the Seitenshi continued instead of answering Kisara’s question, “the Ring is still under development. There’s almost no actual communication that can be made with what few species they’ve had any success with, but apparently Libra is the sole exception.”
Rentaro rubbed his chin with a finger, pondering this. “Hang on a sec,” he said. “If Libra occupied Mount Nasu immediately after those two robberies, are you saying it’s in that Varanium mine and building up its stock of viruses because someone’s directing it to?”
“…I’m saying it is possible. We’re talking two different laboratories that were targeted at once.”
“So why isn’t the palace trying to do anything about that? This is serious!”
“I’m sad to say that everything you’ve heard so far is little more than conjecture. If we explained this to the other Areas without any evidence, they might just see it as us trying to make excuses. It’s not a lie, after all, that the Inheritance of the Seven Stars has the power to attract Gastrea. It’s hard to blame Prime Minister Ino for concluding that Tokyo Area is the culprit.”
She tapped a finger rapidly on her still-crossed arms.
“So this whole disaster’s thanks to your government covering everything up, isn’t it?” Rentaro fired back. “I mean, if it looks like a duck and it quacks like a duck…you know?”
“I am willing to take the criticism for that, yes. We have secrets, and these secrets open us up to questioning. But you would have known that, Mr. Satomi, after your military training under the Tendo family. Prime Minister Kaihoko would have, too, as would President Saitake. Even if we disclosed the Inheritance to the public, do you believe they would use that strictly for peaceful purposes?”
“…Who would even do something this crazy, anyway?”
“Both groups used small arms for their attacks. Judging by that and their methods, they were both professional outfits. Surveillance footage showed that one of their members is currently wanted by international authorities for terrorist activity.”
The Seitenshi rotated the laboratory floor plan in the air, tapping on a corner to expand it. The video screen showed a clear overhead view from a distant height as a man in a tactical vest pointed a rifle toward the camera view. The ski mask on his face prevented any positive identification.
“So we don’t know anything about them?”
“Not necessarily.” She tapped away at a holographic keyboard, trimming down the image to focus on the masked attacker’s eyes. An analysis of his irises flashed on-screen, comparing the results with an international terror database and bringing up a photograph of a white male, accompanied by a detailed history of his life.
“This is Marc Meyerhold. A native of Belarus who spent seven years with Russian Spetsnaz special forces. Voice scans also picked up two or so other Belarusians with criminal histories in their homeland.”
“Belarus? But didn’t Belarus…?”
The Seitenshi gave an approving nod. “Right. The Greater Minsk Area, which served as the capital of Belarus, was flattened by none other than Libra itself. That struck my curiosity, so I looked over some materials from the final days of Greater Minsk. It…wasn’t pretty.”
She closed her eyes for a moment, lost in melancholy, then turned back to Rentaro.
“There’s something else I want to tell you, Mr. Satomi. These terrorists used to work under Andrei Litvintsev.”
This chilled Rentaro to his core. “Andrei Litvintsev?”
He knew the name. It was one he couldn’t forget, no matter how hard he tried.
“Who’s that?” asked a confused Enju.
Rentaro turned to her. “You remember half a year ago? When that dude down the street was bitching at us about this weirdo going in and out of his neighbor’s house? That guy.”
Enju slapped a fist against her palm. “Ohhh! The illegal immigrant?”
Kisara sighed. “A lot more than that. It turned out to be the biggest spy-exposure case in Japan since Richard Sorge back in 1941. The newspapers were going nuts over it.”
Rentaro turned his head back to his leader. “Where is he right now?”
“He’s serving a life sentence in Mega-Float Prison. We believe he was heavily involved with the lab attacks, so we’ve been negotiating with him for info in exchange for reducing his sentence, but…”
“…But he’s staying mum?”
“It might be worse than that, even…particularly for you, Mr. Satomi.”
“What do you mean?”
The Seitenshi suddenly found it difficult to find the right words. Rentaro looked on silently.
“Litvintsev…has asked you to mediate over the negotiations, Mr. Satomi.”
Waves of discomfort flowed over Rentaro’s mind. He lowered his brows. “Me? Why me?”
“We don’t know. All we know is that Litvintsev says he’s willing to negotiate if we send you over.”
Rentaro looked aside and prodded his chin to mull this over. “So these two labs in Russia and Tokyo Area were attacked, and you think there’s a pretty good chance Litvintsev and his people are using what they stole from them to control Libra, right? What are their motives for that?”
“We don’t know that, either. The palace hasn’t received any demands or claims of responsibility from anyone. But right now, I think figuring this out is less important than taking action, and quickly. Time’s ticking away as we speak. Counting today, we have three days to eliminate the threat of Libra and prevent an all-out war between Tokyo and Sendai Area. Before then, I want you to travel to Mega-Float Prison, meet with Litvintsev, and find out where his friends are hiding.”
The city of Magata at night was windless and quiet. Not even a single insect or bird cry could be heard. The moon shone at an acute angle as the occasional car roared down the side street.
“I absolutely reeeee-fuse to accept this!”
The hapless Rentaro extended a weak hand to Kisara, storming down the sidewalk with shoulders whisking back and forth.
“Well, what do you want me to do? My place is about the only safe spot she’s got right now.”
Kisara suddenly stopped, making Rentaro run into her nose-first. He stumbled a bit in surprise as she turned around, hands on her hips.
“That’s not the issue, you idiot! I’m saying that a woman like Lady Seitenshi cannot sleep under the same roof as a guy!”
Rentaro looked up at the heavens for divine assistance.
They’d agreed to respond to the Seitenshi’s request at a later time before moving the topic of conversation to where she would spend the night. Rentaro had suggested his room, which had immediately incensed Kisara. Considering Rentaro’s apartment was the only place she was safe from palace searchers, there was really no choice. But for some reason, Kisara found that difficult to accept. All evening, it had been nothing but “No, no, no!” from her.
Rentaro sighed. “You really don’t trust me that much?”
“How could I ever trust you?” She pouted, blushing, her voice low. “Besides, you attacked me once.”
Sweat shot out of Rentaro’s body as the surface temperature on his face skyrocketed.
“No, that…that was, um…”
His mind returned to the events of a month ago while his mouth continued to fumble for an excuse. He had been framed for the murder of his old acquaintance Kihachi Suibara, which indirectly led him to discover and break the door open on the Black Swan Project and crush Atsuro Hitsuma’s diabolical plans. It wasn’t long after that when subsequent events had led Rentaro to kiss Kisara, and right after that—
“Listen, uh…back then, Kisara, why did you—?”
“…Ohhh!” She clapped her hands as she turned her head back up. “R-right! Now I remember. I was gonna pick up some groceries during the big sale they’re having. Tina’s probably hungry and stuff, so I’ll let you go for now, Satomi. See you!”
“Whoa, hey—”
There was no time to say anything as Kisara ran off and gradually faded into the cityscape. He tried to give chase for a while, only to wind up completely alone on the little landing in front of the entrance to Magata Park. Looking at the clock lit up among the playground equipment, he realized it was half an hour past midnight. If there were any nearby grocery stores open at that time of night, Rentaro wasn’t aware of them.
“What the hell was that about…?”
“Hey, I’m back,” a still-troubled Rentaro said as he discarded the shoes he had hurriedly put on a few minutes prior. The first thing he saw was the uncommon sight of Enju and the Seitenshi sitting next to each other, the latter in a prim and proper kneel, while the former tried to mimic her in the most ladylike manner possible. They were both focused on the TV.
It was some sort of live broadcast from the palace, which was lit up and surrounded by crowds of people. A reporter was in the midst, gripping a microphone tightly with both hands as she summoned her most authoritative voice.
“One night after the palace held an emergency press conference, the Zodiac Gastrea Libra remains curled up in the Mount Nasu area. It has yet to move an inch.”
The image shifted to some previously shot aerial footage of the mountain area.
“Libra…”
Its long, thin body was curled into a ball, its fearsome, reptilelike visage resembling a snake’s—or maybe even a dragon’s. The viral sacs weren’t visible from this vantage point, but there was no doubt they were still expanding, inflating, waiting for just the right moment to unleash their payload.
“Tensions remain high between Tokyo Area and Sendai Area, as Tokyo responds to the shutdown of their embassy in Sendai with a shutdown of Sendai’s. Prime Minister Ino doubled down earlier on his accusation that Libra was summoned by the Seitenshi administration, and Sendai aircraft are still conducting patrols around Libra and nearby Tokyo Area. Palace officials have yet to release a formal comment about this, but reports indicate that intensive negotiations are taking place beneath the surface at Lady Seitenshi’s command.”
The Seitenshi scowled.
“Hey, uh, you think it’s about time you head home?”
“Mr. Satomi…”
She must have just noticed Rentaro then, her fetching but gloom-filled visage turning toward him as she shook her head.
“I will not.”
Enju, unable to stay ladylike any longer, shot to her feet.
“This is so boring, Rentaro. All the channels are showing this stupid live coverage. They preempted the Tenchu Girls special!”
“Hey, even magical-girl fighters need a break now and then.” Rentaro handed the complaining girl some new underwear, prodding her into the bathroom to take her evening bath. He was glad to get some peace and quiet—or, at least, he was until Enju stuck her head out the door and said “No peeking!” with a cheesy grin.
“Who’s gonna peek at you?”
Picking up on some giggling next to him, Rentaro turned to the Seitenshi, who had a hand to her mouth.
“Ah, children are so honest, aren’t they?”
“Nah. Enju probably didn’t even understand half of what we were talking about anyway.”
“Well, does anyone though, really? I’m half in doubt about it myself.”
Their conversation faded just as a new advertisement came on, an upbeat melody accompanying a burst of light that illuminated both their faces as it ran across the screen.
“May I ask you for a response to my request pretty soon? That’s what you were discussing with President Tendo, no?”
He had tried to discuss it, at least, but Kisara ran off before he could. It was all still up in the air. Rentaro focused on the TV instead. The ad was over, and now the news was showing a photo of Tokyo Area’s Sendai ambassador and his family, still being held in his embassy by the local authorities.
“We’ll take it. I’ll tell my boss about it later.”
“Um, are you sure Ms. Tendo doesn’t need to be informed?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. If I tell her I’m gonna do something, she never opposes me. As long as I’m strong enough with it, I mean.”
Almost immediately, Rentaro began to doubt himself. Did he take the job in order to stop some unknown pain and sadness coming in the world’s future? Or was it just to take a dig at the indecisive Kisara? He shook his head, realizing he was turning into someone he didn’t like very much, and decided to stop thinking. The reasonable side of his mind refused to advance this line of thought any further.
The smoke that wisped up from the piggy bank–shaped mosquito-repellent holder was buffeted by the fan that whizzed back and forth in the darkness, leaving a sharp chemical odor as it vaporized into the air.
Sleep was apparently going to be something rather distant tonight, since Rentaro’s consciousness was operating at full capacity. Putting both hands behind his head, he found himself tracing the grains on the grimy wooden ceiling with his eyes. There was a rustling, followed by someone grunting a little in his ear. He felt breath on his neck, tickling him enough that he turned to his side.
There was the sleeping face of Enju, almost close enough to touch. And across from Enju’s futon was the Seitenshi, arms crossed in front of her, the picture of infallible tranquility as her chest rhythmically rose and fell. She was wearing a pink nightgown—part of the sleepover kit Miori brought with her long ago—but that did nothing to stain the sheer beauty and elegance that emanated from her face.
Rentaro got up to relieve himself, then tiptoed to the refrigerator and polished off a half-consumed sports drink. The cold liquid flowed down to his warm stomach. He turned toward the nearby window. It was a bright night, the moonlight coming down on his surroundings at an angle.
Suddenly he noticed, among the choir of summer insects gathered outside his door, another voice, almost hidden. He turned toward it and swallowed nervously. It was the Seitenshi, her back turned—and she was sobbing, her shoulders shaking.
“Are you all right?” he asked, kneeling down to put a hand on one shoulder. She instantly spun around. Her eyes, practically drained of tears, sparkled as they reflected the moonlight. It made Rentaro freeze for a moment as the insects rattled their wings against one another, droning the night away.
Then his brain went back to a question he had been dwelling on all day: Why did the Seitenshi flee the palace in the first place? He had been lightly prodding her about that since she’d arrived. It was possible, he reasoned, that she was here on a covert basis…that perhaps Kikunojo was against leaving the negotiations with Litvintsev in Rentaro’s hands.
But was that really it? The Seitenshi wasn’t just some bureaucrat; she was the head of a nation, its commander-in-chief, and the chain of command made it clear that there was no one in Tokyo Area allowed to order her around. She had every right to turn down Kikunojo’s advice and call on the services of the Tendo Civil Security Agency anytime she wanted.
So why, then?
The Seitenshi, still shaking, grabbed at the sleeve of Rentaro’s pajamas, head down.
“Every day, lately, I’ve been putting my hand on my Bible and asking it what I should do. But no matter how hard I try…all I am for this city is window dressing.” The despair was clear in her voice. “As far as our citizens are concerned…Kikunojo is more than enough for them. I… They don’t need me…!”
“Lady Seitenshi…”
“It pains me. I want to live my life under the firm belief that there is a good, and virtuous, side to everyone. But everyone around me is swept up by hatred instead. Mr. Satomi, what…? What should I…?!”
Leave it to me; Don’t worry; It’ll all be okay—assorted phrases crossed Rentaro’s mind, but none had the strength to reach his lips.
Instead, he placed his palms over her clenched fists and held them, silently.