3: Black and White
3: Black and White
20 October, 0810 Hours (Japan Standard Time)
Jindai High School, Chofu
“Morning, Kyoko!” Kaname slapped Kyoko on the back as they met up at Sengawa Station that morning.
“Morning... Jeez, you’re peppy today, Kana-chan,” Kyoko grumbled, a bit sleepily.
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah. Did something good happen?”
“Not really. Or... maybe it did, I guess? It’s not like a whole thing or anything...” Kaname giggled.
Kyoko looked confused. “You’re being so weird...”
Kaname and Kyoko were walking to school in a crowd of other students. Sadly, it was raining that day, and a bit chilly on top of that. They both had their umbrellas out, a fact which made Kaname a little anxious—Her friend was quite a bit shorter than her, which put her umbrella’s ribs just about level with Kaname’s eyes.
“But yesterday was something, huh? I guess Sagara-kun hasn’t changed much,” Kyoko said, after a bit of walking.
Kaname nodded. “I know, right? The guy is so dense. I keep telling him to chill, but he keeps freaking out anyway. I wish I could give him a shock collar or something. Every time he does something stupid... zap! It’d work, I think. I’m serious.”
Kyoko laughed. “What, like for a dog?” Then, she changed the subject. “So, what happened after I left?”
“Hmm? Oh, I... I went home. Why do you ask?” Kaname said, playing dumb. She wasn’t sure why, but she didn’t want to admit that she’d taken him back to her place and cut his hair. It really was pretty forward, wasn’t it? Most girls didn’t get that close to their male friends, did they? Was it possible her classmates would be a little put off if they learned what it was she’d done?
Well, it’s fine, she told herself. She’d just accost Sousuke ASAP and tell him to say he cut it himself. That would take care of everything.
“Talk about a good mood, though...” Kyoko observed.
“Who’s in a good mood?”
“You are.”
“Huh? N-No I’m not,” Kaname denied. “Ahahaha...”
“Hmm,” Kyoko teased, “I’m skeptical...”
That was the end of that conversation.
They talked for a while about the Japan Series, then passed through the school’s front gate, put on their slippers and headed for the classroom. They dropped their bags on their desks and looked around. There was no sign of Sousuke.
Not here yet, huh? Kaname asked herself. She glanced at her watch. It was 8:27. Class would start soon. Where could he be? she wondered. She wanted to see the reactions from the class when they noticed his new hair.
While her other classmates were chatting, the bell rang for class. The students noisily moved to their seats, but Sousuke’s remained empty.
He’s gonna come late again? That stupid jerk... with his makeup tests coming, and everything... Kaname opened up her textbook, feeling a little deflated. But one hour passed, then another, and Sousuke still didn’t show up.
He didn’t show up all day.
20 October, 1719 Hours (West Pacific Standard Time)
Merida Island Base
Tessa was looking through some documents in her office when the intercom on her desk buzzed. It was from her secretary in the next room. “Yes?” she inquired.
“Colonel, ma’am,” said the secretary, “Sergeant Sagara has arrived.” Major Kalinin was his direct superior, but he wasn’t on base at the moment, so he’d probably come to her to give his report personally. The major had remained in operations headquarters in Sydney; he had a few equipment issues to discuss with the Roth & Hambleton engineers.
After a long pause, Tessa said, “Let him in.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Tessa set down the receiver and minimized the documents on her desk’s holoscreen. The progress reports for the new submarine communication system, the VME bus receiver, were still classified, and Sagara Sousuke lacked sufficient authorization to view them.
She felt depressed. The fact was that she was the one who had issued him the order to return. She hadn’t had a choice, of course—she was just executing the will of the admiral and the operations division—but in practice, she’d effectively torn him and Kaname apart. The fact that she’d been jealous of their relationship in the first place only added to her sense of guilt.
If only Kalinin were here, Tessa thought wistfully, and that moment of weakness just depressed her further. She couldn’t just give an order like that and then hide behind one of her subordinates; what kind of commander would she be then? But what am I even going to say to him? She’d been wondering that the entire time since she’d gotten back from Sydney, and she still hadn’t figured it out.
“Reporting in, ma’am.” Sousuke came in. He walked right up to her desk and snapped to a salute. She returned the gesture, and he immediately lowered his hand to go into ‘attention’ posture.
“Welcome back,” Tessa greeted him. “At ease.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Sousuke, quickly shifting to ‘at ease’ posture. Sousuke always acted this way around his superiors, but his behavior today seemed even more absurdly formal than usual. Was it just her imagination, or was this how he’d treat a complete stranger?
Neither of them said anything for a while. It was a long, long silence.
Sousuke wasn’t looking at Tessa; he was standing ramrod-straight, eyes fixed on the large map behind her. Even though they did know each other. Even though they were the same age... It occurred to her suddenly that his formality was like a form of silent protest towards her.
“Did you say goodbye to Kaname-san?” she asked, unable to bear the silence any longer.
“Ah,” Sousuke responded vaguely. “Requesting an explanation, ma’am,” he said then, still looking at the map.
Tessa clenched her fists, and after a moment’s silence, launched into her grueling explanation. “The top brass and I came to a decision. With the intelligence division getting settled in Tokyo, it’s no longer necessary for you to stay with Kaname-san.”
“Permission to voice my disagreement, ma’am,” Sousuke said woodenly. “The intelligence division’s protection is insufficient.”
“You’re wrong,” Tessa told him. “And you underestimate your own importance as well. Putting you on that redundant mission was a dereliction of my duty as battle group commander. There’s a much more important duty you need to focus on.”
“Requesting clarification, ma’am,” Sousuke asked, as if skeptical that anything could be more important than guarding Kaname.
“The Arbalest,” Tessa said, and Sousuke’s expression tightened a bit. “Your focus must remain on operating that machine. Because you’re the only one who can.”
He said nothing.
“During the Sunan incident, the lambda driver registered your brainwave patterns. Or perhaps ‘imprinted on’ would be a more apt phrasing... Following that initial deployment, all systems—which until then had been completely blank—automatically restructured themselves to match your specifications. In the moment you activated it, the artificial nerve network that runs through its frame mapped itself to your nervous system through the TAROS. These are changes that cannot be altered.”
“I don’t understand,” Sousuke finally said.
“From the moment you first piloted it, the Arbalest became... like your avatar,” Tessa explained, squeaking back and forth in her chair. “Mithril does not currently have the resources to create another lambda driver-mounted AS. Which means that, if we end up facing another enemy machine like the Venom or the Behemoth, you and the Arbalest remain our only hope to oppose them. The intelligence division will protect Kaname-san, and you... you must focus on learning how to operate the Arbalest properly.”
After patiently enduring the long explanation, Sousuke looked down and let out a small sigh. “And there’s no room for leeway in that decision?”
“No,” Tessa responded weakly. “Please try to understand, Sagara-san.”
“Is that an order, ma’am?” His words, full of scathing disdain, felt like a physical blow.
He did that intentionally, Tessa thought. He said that to me to attack me. I’m doing my best to explain things to him, and he says, “Is that an order?” As if our friendship meant nothing. And on top of that, the reason he’s so angry... is because of her.
“Yes, it is,” she said, inadvertently sharpening her tone. “If that will get you to accept it, I will order you. That’s how organizations like ours work, after all. I will not play favorites with my men. Even if it means tearing you apart from Kaname-san, I will do what must be done.”
“Colonel, ma’am...?” Sousuke’s expression betrayed a hint of dismay, but that didn’t stop Tessa.
“You have no idea how the upper echelons work,” she said, suddenly furious. “I can’t do anything by myself—I’m merely a child, as you know. But what would you know about hierarchies, or politics, or horsetrading?! Oh, it must be wonderful for you! You can just blame me for everything and set your mind at ease.
“But I don’t have that luxury,” Tessa continued angrily. “I need to think not just of her safety, but of the safety of my whole crew! Do you understand? You’ve fought the Venom and the Behemoth, haven’t you? You know how dangerous they are! Not even an M9 can fight an AS with a lambda driver! The next time we encounter one, someone could die again! One of my people! The next time, it could be Melissa, or Kurz-san! Our entire ground force could be wiped out in an instant! So I need to do whatever I can do to stop that from happening!”
Sousuke cringed very slightly. The dam had burst on her words; her voice cracked, but she couldn’t stop them from flooding out.
Ah, what am I doing? I’m crying, Tessa realized. There’s never been a commander more pathetic than I am... I’m a failure. But even knowing that, she couldn’t stop the emotions once they’d started.
“I—” Sousuke started, but Tessa cut him off again.
“What are you looking at?” she demanded. “Can’t you think about anyone but her? Have you ever considered my feelings in the slightest?!”
“I... I cannot apologize enough, Colonel. I—”
“Stop it!!” Tessa said, her eyes red and swollen. “You’re the absolute worst kind of person. You pretend to be faithful and kind, when all you really care about is yourself. And on top of that, you also lie to yourself... Why don’t you just come out with how you really feel? ‘I want to be with her. Don’t get in my way!’”
It was Sousuke’s turn to look like he’d been struck. He was completely dumbfounded; his eyes blinked rapidly, he shook his head, and he flapped his mouth, stunned.
“It would make things... so much easier... if you would.” That was all Tessa could say. She realized that, at some point, she’d risen to her feet. And so now, she relaxed, slumping back into her chair.
“Forgive me... Colonel. I apologize. I... this situation, it’s... my understanding is so lacking, I...” As Sousuke stumbled over his words, his entire body tense, the intercom on the desk buzzed once again.
While wiping the tears from her eyes with her sleeve, Tessa slowly picked up the receiver. “What is it?”
“Colonel, ma’am. Lieutenant Clouseau is here,” said her secretary, Lieutenant Viran.
“Could you... give me a moment?” Tessa requested. “I’ll have him in soon.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Tessa set down the receiver, then took out a tissue and blew her nose. Still sniffling, she once again wiped her eyes with her sleeves and whispered, in dire tones, “I hate you, Sergeant Sagara.”
“...Forgive me,” he apologized humbly.
“I hate the way you apologize for everything.”
“...I’m sorry.”
“We have nothing more to discuss,” she told him. “You are dismissed.”
“...Yes, ma’am.” Hesitantly, Sousuke left the office.
Once the door was closed behind Sousuke, a new wave of self-loathing swept over Tessa. Were a few harsh words from her subordinate all it took to get her in a self-righteous fury, crying and shrieking? Pathetic didn’t even cover it—her behavior was contemptible. She’d never done anything so wretched before. The only silver lining was that nobody else had witnessed the display. Even so, she couldn’t believe she had said all those awful things to him so bluntly. He must completely loathe her, now.
Tessa regained her calm, straightened up, and gave herself three minutes. She checked her appearance in the mirror, then told her secretary to send the visitor in.
From the same door through which Sousuke had gone came a tall black man. He saluted her. “Belfangan Clouseau, at your service.”
“Welcome to the West Pacific battle group, Lieutenant. I am its commander-in-chief, Teletha Testarossa,” she greeted him, betraying no sign of her earlier difficulties.
“It’s my pleasure, Colonel,” Clouseau replied. “I appreciate you taking the time to see me.”
“The pleasure is all mine,” she returned politely. “Have you been able to have a look through your new workplace yet?”
“Not yet. By the way... that sergeant was Sagara Sousuke, correct?” he asked, as if to confirm what he already knew. They must have passed each other in the waiting room.
“Yes,” she admitted after a moment. “I suppose I should have introduced you.”
“No need. I’ve met them all already,” the man said, unsmiling.
“So you’re saying, you made Tessa cry again?” Kurz asked, staring at Sousuke. They were sitting at a corner of the bar in the base’s only izakaya.
“Er... affirmative,” Sousuke responded, from the seat beside him. He was slumped over, head drooping, absently gazing into the glass of grapefruit juice sitting on the counter before him.
“You know... you’d make a pretty good gigolo,” Kurz mused.
“What’s a ‘gigolo’?”
“Forget it. But... hmm. I gotta say: it fits,” Kurz said thoughtfully, folding his arms.
Sousuke gave him a sidelong glance. “You sound almost happy about this...” The last time, when he’d made Kaname cry, the man had sucker-punched him. Sometimes, Sousuke couldn’t understand what went through his partner’s head.
“I’m not,” Kurz told him. “But you feel bad about it, right?”
“Well... of course, but...”
“Then don’t beat yourself up about it. Tessa’s a nice girl,” Kurz said offhandedly, then downed his scotch with a gulp. “She’ll forgive you soon enough.”
Around them, the place was roaring with conversation between soldiers of the PRT (primary response team) that had just finished their training, and members of the maintenance team who had punched out for the day. There was casual boasting in various languages, coarse laughter, and tales about girls hooked up with in Guam. Cigarette smoke hung thick in the air.
“The colonel is a truly impressive person,” Sousuke said after a bit. “I don’t think I understood half of the responsibilities she’s under. And the way I spoke to her... she must have been furious with my insubordination.”
“That wouldn’t be enough to make her cry,” Kurz said with a hint of irony, a corner of his mouth quirking upward.
Sousuke looked over questioningly. “What do you mean by that?”
“Eh. It’s a little galling, so I don’t think I’ll tell you.”
Sousuke just looked even more confused.
“You really don’t know? Sheesh... no wonder she’s mad at you.” Kurz’s flabbergasted tone caused Sousuke to slump over further.
“I think... I really have been a fool,” Sousuke said glumly. “The colonel’s assertions were entirely correct. There was... no real reason for me to remain on as Kaname’s bodyguard. From a resource allocation perspective, our existing arrangement was... improper.”
Hearing Sousuke’s murmurings, Kurz grimaced for a while. At last, he shrugged and said, as if speaking to himself, “That’s no way to be.”
Sousuke looked up. “What do you mean by that?”
“Nothing. Forget it,” Kurz said, and decided to address Sousuke on his own terms. “It’s true that, even for a member of the SRT, it’s too much to both test an experimental AS and guard a girl at the same time...”
“Exactly. But...”
“But?” Kurz urged him on.
But Sousuke just gripped his glass and said in a strained whisper, “No, it’s nothing,” then fell silent.
There’s no point in confiding in Kurz, Sousuke thought. The dilemmas he was facing—his orders, his duty, Kaname, his own lack of insight, everything—wouldn’t be solved by talking. Even so, a part of him desperately wanted to vent his thoughts.
Kaname trusted me. It’s me she relies on, not some intelligence agent. Yet one word from the higher-ups, and I completely betray her trust, he thought. I know that the Arbalest is a vital machine. The colonel is right when she says that it’s the only thing that can stand against a Venom or a Behemoth. And Kaname will probably be safe in the care of an intelligence division specialist... but still. But still, I can’t accept it.
Logic isn’t enough. Neither is rationality. I know that this is the strategically correct decision; it’s a simple equation that produces the same answer every time. Why, then, does it get so deeply under my skin?
“Hey, come on,” Kurz told him. “If you’ve got stuff to get off your chest, I’ll lend an ear. Hit me.”
“No... it’s all right,” Sousuke told him, despite his heavy thoughts.
Kurz glared at him silently. “You’re one awkward piece of work. But I think that’s part of your—” Kurz started, then stopped himself.
“My what?”
“Nothing.” He gave an offhanded chuckle, and then gulped down his scotch. “So, what did Kaname say when you left?”
Sousuke made a noncommittal grunt in response.
“You made her cry, right?” Kurz predicted. “I can’t imagine it was a smiling sendoff.”
“I don’t... want to talk about it.” The truth was, Sousuke hadn’t said anything to Kaname. He hadn’t given her a single goodbye. He’d gotten the order right after the haircut... How could he justify himself to her, after the conversation they’d just had? He didn’t have the courage to face her again. He’d sent his notice of withdrawal to the school, and most of the things in his apartment had just ended up transferred elsewhere in the city. In his cowardice, he’d left all of that for others to deal with.
What is the right thing for me to do next? was never a question he’d had to worry about on any of his old battlefields.
“Ah, okay.” Kurz backed off with surprising ease. He asked the bartender for another drink, exchanged some joking insults, and then let out a weak laugh.
It was then that a slight hush fell over the bar’s raucous talk. The rough jeering, the clinking of utensils, the singing and the flirting all died off, replaced with a faint sense of wariness. It wasn’t quite the silence that would fall over a bar in an Old West movie—this place wasn’t exactly a den of lawlessness—it was a more subtle change.
The source of the change became immediately obvious: An officer—an unfamiliar one—had just entered the bar. He was a black man, dressed in a combat uniform. There was a badge on his shoulder, stitched with the letters “FLT”: a first lieutenant. He had broad shoulders, a V-shaped torso, and long, straight legs. He looked quite tall from a distance, seeming to have a good ten centimeters even on the 180-centimeter-tall Kurz.
“Never seen him before. Where do you think he’s from?” Kurz whispered.
Sousuke felt as though he’d seen the man somewhere before. Was he the one he’d passed outside of Colonel Testarossa’s office?
The man cut through the restaurant, brushing past Sousuke and Kurz to take the seat at the counter furthest back, right next to Kurz’s. “Water,” he said, placing a five-dollar bill in front of him.
The bartender grimaced openly. “Idiot. This is a bar. Order some alcohol, why don’t you?”
“Allah forbids the consumption of alcohol,” said the stranger. “Water, please.”
“Then don’t come to a bar, idiot.” Despite his objections, the aging bartender poured some Volvic into a glass and slapped it down on the counter. The man took the glass and, without any sense of propriety, turned his eyes toward Sousuke and Kurz. He then returned his gaze forward and drank down the water, as if losing all interest in them. There was a philosophical air about the man—He had brown skin, and a glint in his eyes that spoke of both intelligence and guardedness. His lips were drawn into a thin line, and he might have had some Caucasian or Arabic blood in him.
“Ah... Excuse me, Lieutenant,” Kurz said. “We don’t know each other, and I don’t mean to be unfriendly, but could you find another seat?”
“And why should I do that?”
“There’s a kind of unspoken agreement that the three seats at the bar, here in this corner, are for SRT only,” Kurz advised him. “And you’re sitting in the one furthest back.”
“Is that really a rule?” the man asked—of the bartender, rather than Kurz.
The bartender grimaced and shook his head. “They just made it up. Of course, folks from other departments have claimed some of the tables and the other side of the bar under the same principle. It’s just how the people who come here divide up their territory.”
“So it’s more like a custom,” the lieutenant mused.
“You could say that,” the bartender agreed. “But listen, kiddo. That seat you’re sitting in... I guess you could say it’s spoken for.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s where our commanding officer sat before he died,” Kurz said. “Sorry, but I don’t like seeing some stranger’s ass planted on it.”
“I see.” The man looked down and nodded. “What was the name and call sign of your late superior?”
“Uruz-1. Captain Gail McAllen.”
“I see no need to move, then. The man was a coward,” the lieutenant said, a cold smile appearing on his lips.
“What was that?” Kurz leaned forward. Sousuke watched the exchange silently from the sidelines, but he didn’t miss his partner’s hand tightening around his shotglass. “A coward? Did you just call him a coward?”
“Yes. He was a useless little man.”
“Wow. Boy... that’s harsh. Hey, you hear that, Sousuke? A useless little man. Well, I won’t say it’s not apt, but—” One minute Kurz was cracking wise; the next, he’d thrown a drink in the man’s face, and at the same time, lashed out with a right hook. It happened so fast that even Sousuke couldn’t stop him—But the fist never found the man’s cheek; he dodged the strike by a literal hair’s breadth.
Silently and suddenly, then, the man was right in front of him, shoving a palm against Kurz’s jaw. A shove—that was all it looked like. But it sent Kurz’s body flying back several meters, almost hitting Sousuke in the process, before a table stopped his momentum. Plates and glasses crashed to the floor. The bartender scowled and shook his head, and the soldiers in the bar quickly looked in their direction.
“You possess a disgraceful lack of patience, Sergeant,” the lieutenant said, wiping his face with a napkin. “They must have been joking when they said you were a sniper.”
“You bastard... now you’ve really set me off...” Putting a hand on the overturned table, Kurz started to pick himself up. But as he was halfway to his feet, suddenly—his eyes widened in shock, and his knees gave out from under him. It was as if an invisible hand had struck him in the back of the head. Kurz fell onto his backside, then onto his back. “Shit,” he muttered, and then lay still.
“Kurz!” said Sousuke, mildly alarmed.
“He’ll be fine. It’s just a mild concussion,” the lieutenant said to Sousuke, as the latter ran to Kurz to help him. “I’m surprised he could get up at all after a hit like that... but it’s the best medicine for a drunk who takes swings at a superior. It’s clear now that your entire SRT, from that sergeant to your dead captain, are all fools. I’m disappointed.”
Sousuke shot daggers at the openly hostile man.
“What are you looking at me that way for?” the lieutenant asked.
“I don’t know who you are, and I apologize for my comrade’s rudeness, but I must request that you take back your comments about Captain McAllen.” Sousuke was usually unfazed by such criticism, but this was one thing he couldn’t ignore.
“That’s funny, Sergeant. Are you giving me an order?”
Sousuke said nothing.
“And what if I refuse? Will you strike your superior? Are you capable of it? You seem the prim-and-proper type... Or maybe you’re just a coward.”
Sousuke, feeling like the man had seen right through him, clicked his tongue. If he hit this man, he’d be sent to detention—but that, in itself, didn’t matter much. Kurz had probably felt the same, when he’d reacted.
Even after everything he’s done, Sousuke wondered, why can’t I act? Sousuke’s hesitance didn’t come from a fear of being disciplined. It was a more fundamental resistance towards the concept of “breaking the rules.” Punching a superior, refusing an order... any time he did something like that, he felt the structure of the world he lived in break down a little bit more. That threat would throw cold water on his feelings, every time.
The lieutenant interrupted his self-interrogation. “I see you really can’t do anything if there’s not an order behind it. Well then, Sergeant. Why don’t you join me for a little game?”
“A game?” Sousuke questioned.
“You want to defend the honor of this ‘Captain McAllen’? It so happens I have some time to kill. Follow me.” He lay a hundred-dollar bill on the counter, then started walking.
“Where are we—”
“The AS hangar. You’re a pilot, aren’t you?”
I completely took the bait, Sousuke thought. He was now in the cockpit of the ARX-7 Arbalest, standing in a large steel cage with no notable features except for patches of rust. It was an elevator, and he was taking it to the surface of Merida Island.
Most of the base’s facilities were underground, after all: the residences; the communications facilities; the munitions storehouses; the Tuatha de Danaan’s maintenance dock... almost all of it, in fact. The surface, by contrast, was almost entirely pristine jungle, which provided an ingenious layer of camouflage for everything else, from their runways to their communications antennae. The island had a perimeter about equal to that of the Yamanote Line in Tokyo, and the ground forces made good use of the space in their daily training.
The Arbalest had returned to its pristine white exterior after the submarine incident in August. Its dark-gray paint job had completely peeled off during the fight in the hangar; the supervising engineer said it “proved that the lambda driver had activated.” Something about those bizarre forcefields made it impossible for the Arbalest to hold a normal paint job for long.
Sousuke ran the machine through its checks. The procedure was almost exactly the same as in the standard M9: generator, functioning; control systems, functioning; vetronics, functioning. Sensors, drive systems, shock absorbers, cooling devices, FCS, alarm systems—all functioning. The only thing in its arsenal was the training knife, stored in its left underarm weapons rack.
The elevator arrived on the surface. Sousuke walked his machine out of a 12-meter cage covered in vines and leaves from the local trees, and on to the damp ground outside. Each squishy stomp sent a spray of mud flying. The sky was crimson—it was twilight in the tropics. A flock of wild birds nearby, startled by the appearance of the 8-meter giant, burst into flight.
Pressing the voice command switch on his control stick, Sousuke said, “Al.”
《Yes, Sergeant?》 the machine’s AI, Al, responded immediately.
“Give me the local air temperature and humidity.”
《Temperature, 26 degrees. Humidity, 83%.》
“What’s the average EOF of the muscle packages?”
《Checking... 99%. Maximum level.》
The order response system’s voice was deep, unemotional, and male. It would be easy enough to change it, but Sousuke had decided to stick with the default. He was reminded that Kurz had sampled the voice of a Japanese idol singer for his own AI.
Kurz... he thought. He’d left him behind for the bartender to look after, but was he going to be all right? The way that lieutenant had hit him with the heel of his palm... It would take a lot more than a light shove to knock out a guy like Kurz, so there was probably some kind of Eastern martial art principle behind the strike.
The elevator descended, then began to rise again, probably bringing the lieutenant’s M9 from a different hangar. It had turned out the lieutenant was an AS operator, as well... and he’d challenged Sousuke to a fight. He’d said that Sousuke would have to beat him if he wanted him to take back what he’d said at the bar. If you’re afraid of being charged with unauthorized use of an AS, I can order you, if you want, he’d said. That comment had stripped away the last of Sousuke’s reserve.
All right. I don’t know who you are or what you want, but I’ll show you—I’m more than some wet-behind-the-ears rookie, Sousuke thought. I’ve been piloting ASes since I was ten years old. During my Afghani guerrilla days, we stole a Soviet Rk-89, and Hamdullah and I modified it to work for a child’s limbs. Despite my handicap, I took out ten Rk-92s—they were cutting edge at the time, you know? And it’s been seven years since then. I’ve been through countless battles; I’ve operated every machine in creation. This weapon, this AS, is like an extension of myself... “I’m going to make you regret this,” Sousuke whispered to himself. After everything he’d been through, he needed something to vent his frustrations on.
He waited, and eventually, the elevator completed its ascent. “Sorry for the wait,” the lieutenant’s voice came over on the external speakers.
When Sousuke saw the AS that stepped out of the cage into the evening light, his eyes went wide. It was a jet-black M9, with heavily armored thighs and biceps. Two sensors glinted on its head, like eyes. If not for the lack of the “scroll in the mouth” design feature, it would look just like the Arbalest. A black M9—This had to be it: the machine they’d seen in Sicily, during their last operation.
“I should probably introduce myself,” said the other pilot. “I’m First Lieutenant Belfangan Clouseau, out of the Mediterranean battle group, the Partholón. I’m joining the Tuatha de Danaan’s SRT as of today. Incidentally, my call sign is Uruz-1.”
Uruz-1... Sousuke realized. He was taking over Captain McAllen’s position, which had been vacant since the man’s passing.
“Sergeant Sagara Sousuke,” Lieutenant Clouseau was saying. “Major Kalinin tells me that you’re an unparalleled AS grappler—Would you care to give me a demonstration?” The black M9 opened the arms rack in its left side and drew its training knife.
20 October, 1843 Hours (Japan Standard Time)
Sengawa Shopping District, Chofu, Tokyo
Sousuke didn’t come to school at all, that day. Things were certainly a lot quieter with him gone, just as they’d been during exams. That wasn’t to say he would be running around with a gun in hand all day long otherwise... His lack of common sense usually only caused a commotion—for reasons no one could anticipate—maybe once every day or two. Yet even so, the school seemed quieter without him around.
At least, that was how Kaname felt. Even when she was chatting, having fun, and laughing with her other schoolmates, she felt like something was off, something was lacking. “Maybe I’ve caught whatever he has...” Kaname whispered, as they walked home from school, after the sun had gone down.
Kyoko cackled in response.
“What?”
“It’s just... it must be a pretty weird disease, when you put it like that.”
“Huh?” Kaname was struck dumb, failing to grasp her meaning.
“Well, it’s fine if you don’t get me,” Kyoko sighed, “I just can’t put my finger on the kind of person you are sometimes, Kana-chan.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah. It’s like... you seem so mature, but you’re also so childish. You look like you could be in college, but you act like you belong in elementary school.”
“Hmm...” Her friend’s words had sent Kaname deep into thought. She was inclined to think Kyoko was strange in the opposite way—She had a childish outer appearance, yet she sometimes spoke with a college student’s grasp of the world. Then again, maybe that was the reason they got along so well.
Tokiwa Kyoko—She was much shorter than Kaname. They didn’t have much in common, hobbies-wise, and while Kaname was as bold as they came, Kyoko was shy and retiring. Kaname was a skilled athlete in a way that Kyoko wasn’t; just from seeing the two walk side by side, the contrasts were obvious.
But sometimes, when Kaname looked at Kyoko, she found herself thinking, “That girl is on another level.” Their college talk yesterday was just one example. She sometimes caught herself wondering, “Why does Kyoko even hang around with an idiot like me?” Ever since Tessa’s mention that she had an ‘intelligence division bodyguard’ watching her in addition to Sousuke, she’d wondered, from time to time, if that person could be Kyoko. That didn’t really seem possible, though—she’d been by her house to hang out a million times, and she’d met her mother and her siblings.
“Kana-chan?” asked Kyoko.
“Hmm?”
“Ah... Are you thinking about Sagara-kun?”
“Yeah, right,” Kaname scoffed, a bit too late to be convincing. “Give me a break already!” Kaname was just about to let out a laugh, when just then, she saw a flash in the corner of her vision. She looked towards it, questioningly.
They’d been walking down a shopping street near Sengawa Station, the kind of road that was so narrow and packed with foot traffic that a car might just barely make it through. From nearby, she could hear the calls of a greengrocer echo loudly through the crowds. The flash had caught her eye from the roof of a stationery store further down the street. Was that... a lens catching the light?
The roof was obscured by darkness due to the late hour, and it was pretty far away. But Kaname was sure she’d seen it—the movement of a black form, there, in the dim place where the roof blended into the shadows. It had to be a person; Kaname had caught a glimpse of his face. She even thought their eyes might have met, for a second.
It was a lean man with short hair, and thin slivers for eyes. He had the expression of a machine; there was the same air about him as the knife-wielding man who’d attacked her on the submarine that summer.
Kaname got the sense that he was smiling—and then, he vanished from sight. Kaname stopped and stared hard at the spot, but there was no further sign of movement.
“What’s wrong, Kana-chan?” Kyoko asked.
“Hmm? Oh... nothing...” Kaname answered, eyes still focused on the building’s roof. “Nothing at all. Let’s go.”
Kyoko looked at her in puzzlement as Kaname started walking again.
What could it be? Kaname wondered. Her stomach was churning. She didn’t know how to explain it, but... something was wrong. There was no sense of tangible danger nearby, but that one fleeting moment had filled her with a sense of wrongness.
That’s right, something felt wrong. She was seized by a sense that something she’d quietly feared for six months was finally coming to pass. It was a feeling that was hard to describe—like the footsteps of Death itself approaching, long-delayed, yet unavoidable.
That one flash of light on the building’s roof took Kaname back to Akami Pier at the end of June, to the submarine at the end of August. The same smell that had hung over her then, now resurfaced in the back of her mind. Something’s wrong. Something bad... Something very bad is about to happen... she thought. No, I don’t know that. I’m just afraid...
“Kana-chan?”
Ignoring Kyoko’s call, Kaname pulled her PHS out of her bag, and sent a call to a familiar number. “Sagara Sousuke,” read the name on the phone’s LCD screen. It’s okay, she told herself, waiting for the call to connect. I got through the last time... Even Kyoko’s phone got through. He’ll pick up. He’ll answer right away, and then come to me. And he’ll... he’ll... he’ll say, ‘not an issue.’
“Sousuke...” I think I’m going crazy. Why am I so freaked out about this? Why am I so upset that my phone hasn’t rung all day?
“Sousuke?!” She heard the sound of a phone being picked up. “Hello? Sou—”
“The number you have dialed is not in service. Please check the number and try again. The number you have dialed is not in service. Please check the number and try again. The number you have—”
She’d never heard a voice so cold and uncaring in her life.