4: Her Problem

20 October, 2045 Hours (Japan Standard Time)

Chofu

I’m worried over nothing. That was what Kaname told herself after an uneventful return home. She’d caught a glimpse of someone strange on the roof of a building on Sengawa Shopping Street. It was basically nothing, so why was it freaking her out so much?

A gut feeling? she thought dismissively. Please. That kind of thing is so not reliable... “That’s right...” she muttered. So I can’t get through to Sousuke. So what? We’ve been through this song-and-dance before. He disappears from school for a day or two... sometimes three or four... then he comes back, every time. Him being out of touch is business as usual.

But she remembered the message she’d heard on her phone. The number you have dialed is not in service. She hadn’t heard that one before; it was the kind of message that would only come up if Sousuke had canceled his cell phone contract. After the user canceled the contract, the phone company would confirm it, and then shut down the line within ten minutes.

And during tests, he arranged it so I could get in touch with him, even when he was overseas, right? “That big jerk...” she muttered. Why does he have to put me through this all the time? Next time I see him, I’ll really sock him one... But unease, irritation, and other emotions swirled around in Kaname’s chest, chipping away at her attempts at optimism.

She didn’t feel up to cooking that night, so she made curry from a box. Then she turned on the TV and flipped through the channels. A variety show was on, featuring a comedy duo that was popular lately. It was a mean-spirited skit where they made trouble for struggling new employees, then made fun of their shortcomings.

Kaname turned on her game system and picked up a game she’d started recently. It was an action game where you piloted a cutting-edge AS and beat up terrorists as part of a multinational force. She’d never had much interest in “boy games” before, but she’d bought it in hopes of learning a little bit more about what Sousuke did at his job.

Of course, she’d quickly realized it was useless in that regard. She should have known that the game’s creator wouldn’t understand any of the tension of live combat, any of the clamor and heat of a real battlefield. The feeling of the air around you stretched as taut as a piano string, the fear that drove a person to seething madness—Kaname knew it herself, all too well.

The game failed to hold her interest, and she put it down right away, too. She was so flustered that she couldn’t focus on anything, and having nothing to focus on made her even more anxious.

Why am I so on edge? Kaname wondered. “I wish Kyoko had come along...” Kyoko came by to sleep over about once a week. Most of the time, it was Kyoko who proposed it, and since things got lonely living by herself, Kaname welcomed her company. She’d cook, and they’d watch TV together, lay their futons out side by side, and chat. They’d talk about music, sports, TV shows, gossip, boys at school, the future...

The phone rang. Kaname looked at her watch: It was a little after nine. That would be about 7 a.m. in New York time. Kaname finally smiled as she thought of her little sister, who called her internationally now and then before she left for school. Hearing her sister’s voice might help things feel normal. She picked up the receiver and forced a cheerful tone. “Hello! Chidori here!”

She waited for a reply, but none came. Nothing came through the receiver but static.

“Hello?” She paused. “Ayame?”

No response.

“It’s you, right, Ayame?”

No response.

She held her breath for a second. “Who is this?”

Something seemed to scrape against the receiver on the other end, and then the phone hung up. All she could hear was the empty beeping of the dial tone. With a sticky anxiety rising inside of her, Kaname dialed up her sister in New York. The younger girl picked up on her way out the door, but when Kaname asked if she’d called just now, she answered, dubiously, in the negative.

“Oh...” said Kaname. “Well, okay.”

“What’s going on?” Ayame asked, concerned. “Sis, you okay?”

“Oh? I’m fine... Everything’s good.”

“Should I put Dad on?”

“No, don’t... Anyway, have a good day at school,” Kaname said, trying as hard as she could to sound normal, then hung up.

It was strange. She felt so restless. The room’s silence seemed to seep into her.

She’d gotten plenty of prank calls before—Total strangers would call her PHS and hit on her in weird ways. They’d ask what she was doing, invite her to hang out... but it never went past that. Besides, who would want to prank call her at this time of night? It was scary... and unsettling. She felt like someone was watching her.

“Sousuke...” she sighed, pulling his name up to call once more. There was no answer, again. It was just like before. She wasn’t going to reach him by phone.

Kaname started to wonder if there might be another way... and then she remembered the transmitter in Sousuke’s apartment. That’s right. That transmitter... She didn’t know how it worked, but she could probably figure it out now. Mithril’s satellite channels utilized a common algorithmic spectrum dispersion modulation process with independent quantum encryption. She’d gotten a basic grasp on the various algorithms and frequency bands that they used during her time on the Tuatha de Danaan, so if she messed with it a while, she could probably get in touch with Merida Island eventually. (It didn’t occur to her to consider how unsettling her confidence in this regard was.)

Okay! she decided. I’m gonna use that transmitter. Now I have a plan—just go over there and use it!

Kaname slipped on her worn-out jacket, grabbed her keys, and left her apartment. She’d had a spare key to his apartment for over six months that she’d never used; he’d given it to her, “in case anything happens.” The feeling of taking concrete action made her feel a lot better.

Her old-lady sandals slapped the pavement as she crossed the road to the apartment building across the way. Room 505, down the hall, up to the fifth floor—all the familiar old sights.

She stood in front of the door and tried a knock. Predictably enough, there was no response. She stuck the key into the knob. “I hope that idiot didn’t rig it with a bomb or something...” she muttered.

Ah, well. If he did set some weird trap in here, I’ll pay him back for it ten times over. I’ll pop him in the nose and then kick him while he’s down... With these and other thoughts running through her mind, Kaname turned the key, and opened the door.

There were no traps. But that wasn’t all... There were also no pairs of combat boots left in the entryway. No bulletproof vests, no submachine guns hidden in the shoe cubbies.

Kaname flipped the nearby switch, but the lights stayed off. She felt her way through the dark into the living/dining room. No refrigerator, no table, no dishes, no chairs, no TV. No ammunition cases, no guns, no electronics, no fatigues on a hanger, no knapsacks or ammo belts or sleeping bags, no pictures of old battle comrades on the walls... Everything was gone.

No, not everything—there, on the bare wooden floor, sat a small stack of CDs. They were ones Kaname had lent him a few days ago. They were the room’s only occupants, piled up at its center, as if to send her some kind of message.

The blinds had been removed, and the light from the streetlamps poured in naked through the glass. The light was cold and pale.

Kaname spent several minutes just standing in the completely empty room.

20 October, 2335 Hours (West Pacific Standard Time)

Underground Dock, Merida Island Base

Almost immediately after going on Standby D, the Tuatha de Danaan got the order to move out. Supplies were loaded and inspected at a fever pitch, and the not-yet-repaired Arbalest and black M9 (codename Falke) were also being loaded into the hangar. Sousuke and the other ground combatants had been ordered on board from the start, this time.

About two hundred people had assembled in ranks on the starboard side of the de Danaan, whose wounds from the incident two months ago had been thoroughly patched.

“Everyone,” Teletha Testarossa said as she took her place in front of them. “I am taking command as usual. The Tuatha de Danaan is about to leave port. We will be heading straight for our area of operations, using the world’s fastest speed. I will inform you of our destination after we depart. We might end up working sleepless nights, but do your best to avoid mistakes, regardless. Now, let us pray.”

It was far from a chest-thumping opener, but that was simply how they did things on this submarine. Tessa put both hands on her microphone, and in a quiet voice, began reciting a prayer: “O Lord, give us thy strength. Reach out with thine arms that can touch the deepest depths, to shelter us on our long ocean journey...” Her voice was beautiful and tender, reminiscent of a flute.

The Christians present clasped their hands together, while the others also prayed silently. “Be with us day and night, whether we rest in the silent deep or race on the wave-battered surface. O Lord, as we navigate through the perilous sea, hear us when we call to thee...” The prayer ended, and she told them, “Now, take your positions!”

“You heard her!” the duty officer shouted. “All soldiers and sailors, to your posts!” The crew immediately began to move in force, boarding the mountain that was the Tuatha de Danaan.

The palladium reactor started up, using energy borrowed from an external outlet. The heat sink ports under the water breathed in. The mooring lines and electric cables fell away. The hydraulic lock bolts that fixed the boat to the dock slowly rotated their way free. Various hatches whined shut, and a siren blared to announce their upcoming departure.

The shutters of the large gate that sealed off the underground dock began to roar open; it was like a skyscraper coming to life. Beyond the opened gate lay a large cave, propped up by countless metal supports: an underground path for the de Danaan to reach the ocean hundreds of meters beyond. The light of the mercury lamps reflected on ripples in the seawater that filled the cave.

Attended by her XO, Tessa stepped briskly into the vessel’s central control room. “Greetings, everyone. I’m taking command.”

“Aye, ma’am. Captain on the bridge!” the duty officer declared.

Tessa watched the front screen carefully without taking her seat. The intercom informed her of various departments’ status, as they finished their final checks. All had gone without issue. The display on the screen seemed to confirm that, as well.

Mardukas gave a small nod. “Confirmed, Captain.”

“Then let us proceed,” Tessa declared. “All ahead one-third. Normal propulsion.”

“Aye aye, ma’am. All ahead one-third, normal propulsion!”

The vessel began to glide forward. Tens of thousands of tons of steel slid out of port, their silence and grace belying the tremendous power that lay within.

21 October, 1240 Hours (Japan Standard Time)

Jindai High School, Chofu, Tokyo

An emaciated face stared out from the girls’ bathroom mirror: Its eyes were bloodshot and had bags under them; its skin was without luster; its lips were chapped; the black hair that framed it was ratty and frayed. It looked like a world-weary woman in her 30s, playing dress-up in a high school girl’s uniform.

“I look awful...” Kaname muttered. She hadn’t slept a wink that night. She’d spent it curled up with her back to the wall, starting at the slightest sound. The silence in the apartment eventually became unbearable, so she’d kept the TV on all night. The late news was going on about the evacuation of citizens in Hong Kong, and she didn’t care about that, so she changed to a home shopping channel that featured products from America.

Today’s item is the revolutionary diet device, Fit X. This might look like just a normal chair, but you can use it for twenty minutes a day to maintain a fit, beautiful figure. “Fit X is the best! You can do twelve exercises with just one device! I saw my friend John after a year away, and thanks to Fit X, he said, ‘Wow! Are you really Danny? I didn’t recognize you!’ Thanks, Fit X!” says computer engineer Daniel. Fit X! Fit X! Call the number on the screen to get your own Fit X!

And so, Kaname spent the night with the smiles of Daniel and his friends.

“Dieting, huh...” she muttered, staring at herself in the mirror. I don’t need that Fit X thing. I’ll be dropping weight fast on my own, at this rate...

Her classmates seemed to have noticed a change in her. Kyoko and the others looked genuinely worried, and urged her to go to the hospital. Kaname dismissed it as being “just a cold.” She didn’t really have another choice. She’d thought about explaining the situation and asking for help, but knew she couldn’t do that. There was no way she could let them in on everything that had happened.

That Sousuke might never come back. That the person everyone assumed was a war-obsessed geek really was an elite soldier, and that he was only at this school to keep her safe. That she was the reason their field trip had become a terrifying disaster... on and on. She couldn’t tell them. She didn’t have the courage.

The bell rang to signal the end of the day. She heard the voice of her homeroom teacher, Kagurazaka Eri, calling her name. “—Kaname-san. Please come to the teachers’ office. I repeat. Class 2-4 Chidori Kaname-san, please come to the teachers’ office at once.”

Kaname thought about ignoring the message, but she changed her mind. Staring at herself in the mirror all day would just make her feel worse; instead, she dragged herself to the teachers’ office.

“Are you all right?” was Eri’s first question after catching sight of her.

“I’m fine,” Kaname told her. “Just didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”

“I see... That’s not good, though,” Eri observed. “Even if you do live alone, you really need to get a proper night’s rest.”

“Yeah, you’re right...” Kaname let out a weak laugh.

“Now, the reason I called you here...” Eri pulled an opened envelope out of a desk drawer. It was addressed to Jindai High School, and she recognized the clumsy hand. “It’s apparently from Sagara-kun, written to our general affairs department. Now... this might be a little shocking,” she said, voice hushed. “It contained a letter of withdrawal.”

Kaname said nothing.

“I knew that he’d been taking a lot of time off recently... but to just drop out, without a word to me beforehand? And I can’t seem to get in touch with him by phone... I’m not sure what to do,” Eri admitted. “I know I’ve been hard on him lately, with the car incident and the chronic absences, so I thought... well, I’m sure there’s more to it than that, but...”

Kaname barely listened to Eri’s rambling. She wasn’t shocked by the news at all. It was more a feeling of “ah, that figures.”

She couldn’t cry. She couldn’t muster any sense of sorrow at being abandoned, any anger at the offhandedness of the act, or any nostalgia for the time they’d shared. She just stood where she was, numb, gazing blankly at the tattered envelope on the table.

“—So... Chidori-san,” Eri was saying. “Chidori-san?”

“Yes?”

“Do you have any idea what might have happened?”

The thought occurred to her that, if this were a manga, this would be the place where she’d say, “He didn’t tell me anything, but I believe in him. I know that Sousuke will be back!” Sadly, Kaname wasn’t the kind of cardboard cutout who could say that sort of thing with perfect confidence—she was a complicated, flesh-and-blood human being.

“No,” she told her teacher, “I don’t.”

“But—”

“I don’t,” Kaname said flatly.

Eri looked up at her suspiciously. “Did you have another fight?”

“No.”

Eri sat there, hushed for a moment. “If I don’t hear from him by tomorrow, I’ll have to pass this on to the principal, you understand that?”

“Then he’ll be out of school forever?” Kaname clarified.

Eri didn’t respond.

Kaname took her silence as a yes. “I see. Goodbye, then...” Kaname listlessly turned around and left the teachers’ office.

Just forget it all, she told herself. He was just an illusion. He was lying when he said he’d protect me. Face the facts: He’s gone, along with everyone associated with him.

There’s no one left I can depend on. Maybe I’ll spend my days jumping at shadows from now on. It’s not like the people after me are going to show any mercy. Spies, terrorists, secret organizations... those are the kind of people they are.

No... I have to work out a plan. By myself. I can’t let Kyoko get mixed up in this.

Remember, she told herself. Was I ever some damsel in a tall tower, pining for rescue day and night? Some princess, weeping at her window for a prince on a white horse, or some noble knight to save her?

The hell I was! I’m gonna take action, because I’m Chidori Kaname. Something inside her, on a cellular level—something even more powerful and fundamental to her than her nature as a Whispered—was urging her on.

First, I need information, she decided. I need to find out what’s going on around me.

21 October, 1946 Hours (West Pacific Standard Time)

Tuatha de Danaan, Sea Near Philippines, West Pacific Ocean

Since they’d been ordered onto the Tuatha de Danaan, Sousuke and the others’ training and meetings were to take place on board.

The SRT members’ meetings were full of advanced and specialized content: squad tactics; use of the M9s’ data-link function; three-dimensional movement using the machines’ full capabilities; and complicated, but efficient systems of teamwork. All were meant to help them cope with the existence of the Venom.

Currently, Second Lieutenant Lemming—the engineer—was explaining about the Venom’s only known weaknesses. The lecture was long, and featured copious amounts of jargon. “...In addition to the engineering points I just described, the LD also has a physiological element,” she said. “Its functionality is highly influenced by the psychological state of the operator. Activation of the device causes the operator to emit extremely rare brainwaves—here,” she said, and pointed them out. “These frequencies, from 30 to 50 hertz, are called gamma waves. Only when the strength of these brainwaves exceeds a certain level can the LD produce the repulsor fields we’re all familiar with. Here’s the data on that.

“Our earlier research suggested that consciously and continuously emitting these intense gamma waves would be extremely difficult; until recently, we questioned whether or not it was even possible. But via administration of a drug known as Ti970, which can only be synthesized in an extremely small number of chemical plants, a similar state can be artificially induced—however, this is also known to have a negative impact on the emotions and personality of the recipient: memory loss, schizophrenic tendencies, visual and aural hallucinations, persecutory delusions, powerful mood swings... the list of side effects is extensive. Short-term migraines and losses in vision, as well as disorientation have also been recorded—”

“So what?” several members of the SRT, led by Kurz, asked in chorus.

“So... it’s likely impossible to use the LD for an extended period of time,” Lieutenant Lemming concluded, “excluding exceptions such as the Behemoth.”

“Then why didn’t you just say that?” they all chorused again.

Later, Clouseau announced the end of the meeting, and ordered the group to check their equipment and rest up.

Sousuke did his firearms inspections with Kurz and the others, and then headed alone to the onboard hangar.

The Arbalest, having just finished its repairs, was sitting on its knees in the hangar’s AS holding area. Noise restrictions meant that maintenance couldn’t actively be performed, so it was left cordoned off with stanchions, a rope, and a “do not enter” sign.

When the machine was originally brought on board the Tuatha de Danaan, it had come in a container; it had then stayed there, tucked away in a corner of the hangar until its use in the Sunan Incident. Sousuke himself hadn’t known what was in that container, and he’d never even imagined it might be an AS.

He stepped over the rope and approached the Arbalest. The armor’s smooth white curves were surfaced with a frosted texture that felt slightly rough to the touch. But even running his hand across it like this didn’t inspire the slightest trace of affection in him.

Silently and nimbly, he climbed up the torso, using the armor plates as footholds. He opened the hatch and slid into the cockpit, then used auxiliary power to boot up the control system. The display lit up. He put a hand on the stick, and used his thumb to direct the pointer through the machine’s various mode selections:

Control mode—testing. All vectronics—hibernate. All sensors—hibernate. Machine setting screen, main menu: Select “artificial intelligence.” Artificial intelligence screen: Select “learning.” Learning settings screen: Select “other options.” Other options screen: Switch current mode to “dialogue/free.” Confirm.

With that done, Sousuke pressed the voice command switch on the left stick. “Al,” he said.

A low voice responded after a brief delay. 《Voice check. Sergeant Sagara confirmed. What is it, Sergeant, sir?》

Silence.

The AI, “Al,” would say no more than what was necessary. It would be entirely up to Sousuke to lead the conversation. At the same time, Sousuke didn’t have anything in particular he needed to talk about—he just wanted to try this and see what would happen.

He didn’t really think talking to the machine’s AI would ease his discomfort, but he didn’t like the idea of just sitting around in the duty room, either. He’d considered writing a letter to Kaname, but he didn’t know what to write, and the thought of talking to Kurz and the others just annoyed him.

If he was going to be uncomfortable anywhere he went, then he might as well come here—to this cockpit, the place where his discomfort was at its greatest.

“How are things going?” he tried, hesitantly.

《No issues were reported during most recent checks, performed at 1730 hours. The checks were performed by Second Lieutenant Sachs and filed under maintenance code number 981021-01B-F-001. Would you like to view the report? Or run a second set of checks?》 Since they weren’t currently in combat, the AI was more forthcoming with details. When Sousuke said nothing, then, Al simply continued. 《Running a second set of checks will necessitate a change to current settings. Recommendation: End learning mode, connect external power source, and follow the voluntary checklist. Additional note: Since this machine’s total check at 1730 hours, it has neither participated in a mission nor undergone further maintenance.》

“I actually just booted you up on a whim,” Sousuke admitted.

《Learning message: Explain meaning of term: ‘whim.’》

“Try and figure it out on your own.”

《Roger. Inference complete. Would you like to hear the results?》

“Go on.”

《Meaning of ‘whim.’ Top candidate: Meaning similar to ‘caution’ or ‘duty.’ Secondary candidate: Meaning similar to ‘dedication’ or ‘diligence.’ Tertiary candidate: Meaning similar to ‘disorder’ or ‘irregularity.’》

Further candidates lined up on the display: “Idleness”, “Threat”, “Ambition”, “Play”...

“You understand ‘play’?” Sousuke asked.

《Affirmative. Is that the meaning of ‘whim’?》

“‘Play’ and ‘irregularity’ are the closest.”

《Understood. Thank you for your assistance.》

“Tell me the meaning of ‘play,’” Sousuke requested, out of sheer curiosity.

《“Play” refers to tactically irrelevant yet strategically advantageous activities. It is not as indispensable as eating or sleeping, but is of subsequent highest importance. Through such activities, humans acquire the flexibility and imagination necessary to function, and maintain their vital energies. There is a strong correlation between participation in ‘play’ and the human ability to execute duties. Examples of ‘play’ include singing, dancing, poker, go. Words related to ‘play’ include ‘hobbies,’ ‘joking,’ ‘romance.’》

Sousuke had never gotten a response like this from an AI before. It certainly wasn’t something he’d have heard from the M9 he used to pilot. That stood to reason; there was no need for a mere weapon control system to know the meaning of ‘play.’ It would be a waste of memory.

“Who taught you that?” he wondered.

《Supervisor Bani Morauta, Sergeant.》

Sousuke remembered that name: it was the now-dead man who’d built the Arbalest. “That’s the engineer who made you?” he clarified.

《Affirmative. He developed the ARX system, which includes myself.》 Al’s use of first-person pronouns was simply a matter of convenience; AIs didn’t have actual self-awareness.

“Tell me what you know about Bani Morauta,” Sousuke requested.

《Bani Morauta. Male. Affiliation: Mithril research division. ID number: F-6601. Rank: Captain-equivalent. Pay grade: MJ-3. Developer of ARX-7 system. Estimated age: 16. Estimated height: 166 centimeters. Additional information: Experience with Geotron Electronics at the University of California; experience living in Copenhagen. Hobbies: Go and piano. Favorite singer: John Lennon. Interests: Peace, Al, Teletha Testarossa. Registration was deleted this year on 16 February.》

While processing some surprise at hearing Teletha’s name, Sousuke asked another question, “What was his cause of death?”

《Unknown. That information has not been previously—》 There was a hiss of static. Al’s voice cut off and the screens went black.

Sousuke fiddled with the stick, but there was no reaction. He thought maybe the auxiliary power had shut off, but the light under the screen was still green. “Al?” he checked.

Silence. One second. Two seconds. Three seconds. Then, without warning, the screen restored itself.

《Voice check. Sergeant Sagara confirmed. Learning message: Is he dead?》

It was a strange reaction. The other settings were preserved—it was still on free-dialogue learning mode—so why was reconfirming his voice print the only thing it needed to do?

“That’s what I heard,” he said, then added in annoyance, “And stop saying ‘learning message’ for everything.”

《Roger. Please state source of information regarding his death.》

“Lieutenant Lemming.”

《Please state cause of death.》

This was definitely strange.

“How should I know?” Sousuke asked, after a moment.

《Forgive the indiscretion. Supposition: You do not possess this information.》

“Are you interested?”

《Is the subject of inquiry “do you wish to know more about his death”?》

“Yeah.”

《Affirmative. This information has comprehensive relevance. It impacts fields from tactics to planning. Completion of the ARX System will prove difficult without Bani Morauta.》

“So you admit you’re flawed,” Sousuke observed.

《Affirmative. And you are part of the reason for that.》

He wasn’t about to get angry at a machine, but this answer still took him aback. “What did you say?”

《You are a component of the ARX-7’s system. The ARX System cannot become complete without your assistance. Please tell me your problems. It is possible that I can offer you support.》

It was hard to believe he was talking to a machine. Sousuke genuinely started to wonder if someone was operating Al remotely, making it say these things. “I don’t have any problems,” he told the AI.

《That seems unlikely.》

“Why?”

《My ‘gut’ tells me so.》

The AI’s use of that word was the tipping point: the situation was now utterly absurd. Someone had taught the word ‘gut’ to the machine—Clouseau or Lemming, maybe—as a prank. Whoever it was, they must have a very low opinion of his intelligence.

“Then tell this to your ‘gut’—Stop messing around with me,” he retorted.

《That order is nonsense. Gut cannot be regulated or argued with. It comes from deep within one’s consciousness.》

“The only nonsense here is coming from you,” Sousuke said, and moved to shut down the learning screen. He slid his cursor over free dialogue mode, and tried to switch it to “off”... but he couldn’t. It wouldn’t respond. He looked at it, questioningly.

《I am sorry, Sergeant, but that setting can no longer be changed.》

“What do you mean?”

After a moment’s pause, Al spoke again. 《Now relaying message from Bani. Please give it your full attention: ‘The flag has been triggered. If you’re listening to this, it means I’ve hit some kind of worst-case scenario: I’ve either died or lost my mind. I’ve decided to leave this program behind in the event of that happening. Listen to me, unknown master of Al—He’s no ordinary AI anymore. He’s an individual coexisting with the lambda driver. He’s still just a toddler taking his first steps, but he can even learn what it means to feel happy and sad. Please, give him your trust, as a partner.’》

“What in the...”

《‘I’m sure things are proceeding in ways that make your will seem irrelevant. You’re probably annoyed about that, too. But you aren’t powerless. The Arbalest is a vehicle for possibility. Of course, one possibility is that this “ultimate machine” will end up as scrap on the pile, accomplishing nothing. But that’s up to you. Express yourself as you feel is right. I hope you have someone important to protect.’ Message ends.》

‘Flag’? ‘Program’? ‘Al is no ordinary AI’? And... calling this the ‘ultimate machine’? This defective hunk of junk, which has left me struggling even against single opponents, where all the wins I’ve got came about due to basic dumb luck?

“Stupid...” Sousuke muttered.

《Are you referring to me? Or to you?》

“I’m in no mood to be mocked. I’m going to—”

“Sousuke? You here?” came Mao’s voice from outside the cockpit.

Sousuke ended his conversation with Al and climbed out of the hatch. Mao was looking up at him from the Arbalest’s feet. “What is it?” he asked.

“The colonel wants to see us. She says there’s a mission.”

21 October, 1820 Hours (Japan Standard Time)

Tokyo

Kaname made it back around sunset, packed her clothing and bath set into an overnight bag and left the apartment, still in her uniform. She couldn’t stand the idea of spending another night there. As she walked the road to the station, part of her felt like she was being watched, and the other part was sure she was imagining it.

No, she couldn’t be imagining it; someone had to be watching her. Whether it was the “secret bodyguard” Tessa had mentioned before, or a villain like Gauron... someone was out there. She knew she couldn’t trust whoever it was, of course, but knowing there was someone out there mattered to Kaname—whatever their motives or affiliation, they were her only potential source of information, now.

She tried walking a little ways, then abruptly turning back. She repeated that action a few times, but it didn’t seem to help. It made sense; she wasn’t about to see some shifty guy in a trenchcoat ducking behind a telephone pole—whoever was tracking her, they were a professional, not some third-rate TV private eye.

She carefully considered where she should go next. Into the mountains, far away from civilization? The train could get me to Okutama within two hours... No, the mountains are out. They might help me spot my stalker, but it would be that much harder to shake them off or get the upper hand.

And what if they really are hostile? Yeah, the mountains won’t do... There’d be no witnesses, and I couldn’t call for help if I needed it. It’s just too dangerous.

I need crowds. Somewhere far from my school or my house—a place I don’t go very often. That’ll make it hard for them to attack or kidnap me, and they might even have trouble following me...

For now, Kaname decided to head for Shibuya. She took the Keio Line to Meidaimae Station, then changed to the Inokashira Line towards Shibuya, and jumped off the train just before the door closed. It was the same trick she’d played on Sousuke before—but this time, she saw no shady characters diving off in a hurry... just crowds of passengers, bustling around the Inokashira Line platform.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. She was starting to feel like she was acting foolishly, like a child playing spy. It’s not stupid, she told herself. It’s not stupid... She reboarded the Inokashira Line to Shibuya.

The sun had gone down, but the city was still flooded with people. Kaname fortified herself with a meal at McDonalds. She did some window-shopping at accessory stores and boutiques. She wandered around a CD store, a bookstore, and a Tokyu Hands, then hit up an arcade. Wherever she went, she remained on the alert for suspicious figures around her, but she never spotted anyone.

Maybe the stalker is waiting for me outside? To test that theory, she told an employee in the arcade that there was a weird old man following her, and they let her use the back exit. She came out in a dark alley, then took a long detour, coming out beside a boutique a ways away. She quickly climbed up to the boutique’s second floor, and used a window with a good view to inspect the area around the arcade where she’d just been.

Nobody stood out. But then, there were just so many people... She looked around carefully for over five minutes, but came up dry.

“Still nothing...” she whispered.

What would Sousuke do at a time like this? she wondered. She couldn’t even begin to imagine. He’d proven capable of sniffing out enemies, pursuers, and other threats in ways that seemed like magic to her layman’s eye. Of course, it also led him to a lot of false positives—hence, the constant chaos around him—but he’d never failed to spot a genuine threat. It was like there was something in the air that he could smell, and she currently envied his olfactory talents.

I just don’t know. Nothing I do makes it feel more real. I’m acting as cautiously as I can, but I can’t pick up the slightest trace... This is the part where most people would say, “I guess nobody is watching me after all”... But I know that I’m a person of interest. I know that I’m valuable; that’s a fact. I know I’m being watched. I know I’m being tailed. And yet...

A sad melody began to play inside the store: a passage from Dvořák’s New World Symphony. It was that song about the sun going down on a distant mountain; the store must be closing. Kaname looked at her watch and saw that it was 9 p.m. already. She left the boutique.

She was left wandering the streets without having managed a single breakthrough. There were crowds of drunkards all around; more and more stores were closing their shutters. The town wouldn’t go to sleep for a while yet, but she was starting to feel adrift, uncertain of where to go.

Kaname hugged her bag and squatted down near the Hachiko Statue, where people were beginning to thin out. She let out a sigh. She’d told herself this afternoon that she was going to make this work, but she’d hit a wall already.

Looking back now, of course an amateur like her wouldn’t be able to fool a professional tracker. Even when she’d left out the back of the arcade, they’d probably been anticipating her every move.

But... that’s strange, isn’t it? she realized. Would it really be possible for them to predict her actions that precisely? It wasn’t as if she was dealing with a psychic. Could they have other measures in place, then?

A tracking device? she wondered. She wasn’t carrying the transmitter necklace that Sousuke had given her before; she’d left that in her room. But could her stalker have arranged something similar? What if they’d surreptitiously bugged her with a device so small she didn’t even know it was there?

It wasn’t impossible, by any means. And if that’s what they’d done, there would be no way to shake them. A transmitter with a range of just a few hundred meters could be as small and hard-to-find as they needed it to be. Was it in her bag? Her coin purse? One of her accessories? Somewhere in her clothing? Her wallet? Her watch? Would it even be possible for her to spot?

At the same time... assuming there was a transmitter somewhere on her person, could there be some way to use it to her advantage?

Think... Think... Her mind was the one weapon she had at her disposal.

A cold gust of wind blew past the Hachiko Statue and rustled her hair. November wasn’t far off. The weather report had said things would get as cold as early December tonight, and there was rain in the forecast, too. Her school uniform didn’t offer much defense from the chill.

Just then, she heard a voice addressing her. “Hey, are you alone?” She looked up and saw a white-collar worker standing there. He looked to be in his thirties; his tie was loosened, and he was smiling at her affably, his face reddened from drink. “Are you meeting someone here?”

“No...” Her thoughts were so jumbled that she accidentally answered honestly.

The man then approached her, cooing. “Oh, really? You want to join me for a meal, then? My treat.”

“I’m not hungry,” she told him.

“Don’t be that way. How about some alcohol? I know a place with a nice atmosphere.”

“I don’t drink.”

“Okay... but I can’t just leave you here looking so lonely. I’ll settle for a tea if you just want to talk,” the stranger told her. “You might feel better after venting to someone. Don’t worry, I won’t take you anywhere fishy.”

Liar. You’ll keep picking at me until you’ve got me passing-out drunk, then you’ll drag me to some seedy joint and have your way with me. You think you’re the first guy who’s made a pass at me like this? I’m a veteran at turning guys like you down... Kaname sucked in a deep breath and then spoke up, loudly. “Excuse me! I happen to be busy with—” she began, then abruptly stopped herself.

A light bulb appeared over her head. The idea had come to her completely out of the blue—and that spontaneity meant that her pursuer wouldn’t anticipate it.

“Hmm? What is it?” the drunken stranger asked her.

Only after a careful scrutinization of the man’s face did Kaname say her next words: “Hey, mister. Want to hit a hotel?”

21 October, 2114 Hours (West Pacific Standard Time)

Tuatha de Danaan, Below Surface, Sea Near Philippines

They entered the empty briefing room to find Kalinin and Clouseau sitting there, along with a soldier from the PRT. He was a private of Chinese descent, by the name of Wu. He had an AS license, and he’d done some M9 training, as well.

They were all focused on a news program that was playing on a portion of the screen on the wall. The channel was the BBC, a signal they’d probably intercepted within the past few hours. A Caucasian reporter was in Hong Kong, standing beside a park near the harbor, and speaking briskly in the orange light of the streetlamps. “—Neither occupying army has issued a statement regarding the whereabouts of the unknown machine. Downtown shops and kiosks have been forced to suspend business, leaving a Mong Kok area turned distressingly silent—” A dark green armored car sat parked behind the reporter; further beyond it, an AS of the Rk-92 line was visible from the hips down. The foreboding image effectively conveyed the idea of a city racked with tension.

“Where’s Yang?” Clouseau wanted to know.

“He’s on the way,” Mao responded.

It was just then that Yang, dressed in a tank-top with a towel over his shoulders, came running in, out of breath. “Sorry I’m late!”

“We’re all here, then. I’ll begin,” Clouseau told the group. Apparently, his business was specifically with the four soldiers gathered here—it suddenly occurred to Sousuke that he, Mao, Yang, and Wu were all of East Asian descent. “As you may already be aware, an AS of unknown affiliation has appeared in Hong Kong,” Clouseau said. “The lone wolf machine has engaged in repeated destructive acts, and is believed to still be hiding somewhere within the city limits. Both the North and South Chinese armies have suffered losses, and Divided Hong Kong is a powder keg.”

Divided Hong Kong—the city was occasionally referred to that way, nowadays. The overthrow of the Chinese government a few years back, and the civil war that followed, had led to a city under concurrent control by two different governments.

The Kowloon Peninsula—the part contiguous with the mainland—belonged to the Chinese Democratic Union; South China. Hong Kong Island in the south belonged to the People’s Liberation Committee—in other words, North China. The two sides were still constantly squabbling over areas like Hubei Province, and Hong Kong was the one region where they’d agreed to a ceasefire. It was similar to Berlin’s situation in the East and West Germany days—Both armies had combat squads stationed in the city, just within firing range of one another, in a state of constant standoff.

“Is it really just one AS?” Yang asked, scrubbing his wet hair with the towel.

“Just one, as far as we can tell,” Clouseau told him. “Reports are jumbled, so we can’t say for certain.”

“What kind of machine is it?” Mao asked, and Clouseau brought up the image. It was a relatively clear photograph, probably taken by a civilian, and the sight caused Mao to let out a groan.

Sousuke also found himself turning his eyes downward with a sigh. “I knew it...” he mumbled. It was an AS of the same class as the Venom; he recognized the massive upper body and pointed head, the red mono-eye, and the ponytail-like heat vent. Its paint job was gray and dark blue, with a simple, yet oddly crooked, camouflage design.

The picture had been taken in a quintessential Hong Kong commercial district, with white smoke drifting in the background. The AS in question was tearing off one of the myriad shop signs with one hand, while pointing a Bullpup-style assault rifle at the screen with the other. The composition of the shot—very close up, taken nearly from underfoot—made it easy to imagine what had happened to the photographer right after.

“What are the terrorists after?” Sousuke asked next.

“Unknown,” Clouseau answered. “No one’s claimed responsibility. If I had to guess, they want to reignite the Chinese civil war, or destroy the Hong Kong economy. Or...”

“Or?”

“It could be a challenge, issued to us,” he finally concluded.

Sousuke fell silent. He didn’t like the idea, but it was entirely possible; previous incidents suggested that the enemy force behind these machines was aware of Mithril’s existence, and of the Tuatha de Danaan’s, as well.

“This picture was taken in an urban region, Yau Ma Tei, on the Kowloon Peninsula side,” Clouseau continued. “The enemy machine destroyed a South Chinese Army armored vehicle, then disappeared with the use of a smoke bomb. That was twenty-six hours ago.” Then, he put an enlarged map of Hong Kong onscreen. “Since then, the Venom-type has been popping up every eight to twelve hours across Kowloon and Hong Kong, causing indiscriminate destruction. Close to ten ASes have been destroyed, and casualties appear to be significant. Neither army has been able to shoot the machine down, and they’re also unable to find it or track it. Given past experience, we can assume it’s capable of invisibility.”

“Then the Chinese armies can’t find it with their equipment alone,” Mao pointed out.

“They don’t have information on state-of-the-art ECSes,” Clouseau agreed. “The idea that it could be lurking anywhere, invisible, probably hasn’t even occurred to them.”

“Did you warn them?” Yang asked.

“No,” Clouseau said. “On orders from the top brass.”

“Why not?” the man pressed.

“Even if we did offer advice and technological aid,” Kalinin put in, “and one army or the other found the enemy machine, they still wouldn’t have the equipment to fight a Venom-type. It would just get more people killed. That’s why we’ll handle the pest extermination ourselves.”

His reasoning was sound, but Sousuke sensed that there was a far more calculated reasoning he’d left unsaid: If they gave the North or South Chinese Armies information on cutting-edge ECSes, that would effectively be giving them information on Mithril, which depended on that technology to maintain their clandestine nature.

“So...?” Mao prodded.

“Not even a Venom can remain in top form while acting alone and continuously for longer than 24 hours. It will require ammo restocking and simple maintenance after combat, and the operator will need rest,” Clouseau said. “We need to find their safehouse, set up an M9 squadron to surround them, take them by surprise and get things under control. We’re under no obligation to fight them in fair and open combat. That’s why we want you all doing recon.”

“Recon?”

“It’ll be a joint operation with the intelligence division’s Hong Kong branch,” Clouseau went on. “Offer them the knowhow they need and then locate the enemy base. We’ll surface after nightfall and send out a helicopter. You’ll fly to Hong Kong ahead of us.”

“Sousuke, too?” Mao asked. She was probably thinking that, at times like these, Sousuke usually stayed on board, on standby with the Arbalest.

Clouseau was about to respond, but Kalinin got there first. “Yes.”

Sousuke said nothing.

“We’re going to try not to use the Arbalest during this incident. To reinforce that—you understand, Sergeant Sagara?”

“Yes,” Sousuke responded listlessly.

Same Timeframe

Maruyamacho, Shibuya, Tokyo

“How about here?” the man asked, as they arrived at the Dogenzaka love hotel district. He was pointing to a building done up in chic colors with an electric sign that read, “Vacancy.” The main sign read, “Hotel Diversion: Rest (2 hours) 5500 yen. Overnight (weekdays) 9000 yen.”

The rain that had begun as a drizzle was now forming bigger drops. It would be coming down in force, and soon. They were only a few hundred meters from the business district, but things were already deathly quiet. The only people passing by were all couples (for some reason, all either taking very small or very quick steps). Almost nobody was on their own—an individual all by themselves, or a group of just men, would be immediately conspicuous.

“Ahh... this is perfect.” She found herself clenching a fist in triumph.

The middle-aged man, watching her behavior—he’d called himself Kamoi—looked a little suspicious, but regrouped, and reached for Kaname’s shoulder. “It’s perfect?” he said. “Good. Let’s go in, then. We can, right? Right?”

“Wait a minute.” She brushed off his hand, strode up to the love hotel, and examined its exterior. She then looked around to check its spacial relationship with the other buildings. “It’s good. Let’s go in.”

“That’s great, Mizuki-chan. Big brother’s gonna show his hustle tonight. Hahaha...”

Mizuki was the name she’d thought to give him on the spot. Sorry, Mizuki... she whispered internally to her friend.

Leaving behind the man (who continued quietly revving himself up), Kaname strode into the hotel. The cheap automatic door rattled open in her wake. The lighting was dim. There was no large lobby like a normal hotel; the ceiling was low, and the corridors were narrow.

Beside a corner that looked like a reception desk was a strange, lit-up panel. It was about half the size of one of the blackboards at school, with about forty room pictures lined up side-by-side. Beneath each picture was a room number, a red light, and a button; about half of them were lit.

What is all this?

While she stared at it, puzzled, Kamoi caught up with her and said, “Which room do you want?”

Ah... so you press a button to choose your room. The photos whose lights are out are probably ‘in use’... Kaname reasoned. “In use...” She snapped back to reality as she realized what that meant. Am I insane? What am I doing here? This is nuts! It’s not too late. Reconsider. Leave this stupid love hotel right now!

Then, she thought, No, no... you won’t make any progress that way. This is way more important than society’s ideas about morality and chastity. It’s one of those things he always used to talk about—yes, a threat to the general security. This might just give you a way out of your situation. Don’t be afraid. Use your head. Make things go your way...

Kaname’s internal struggle lasted only briefly before she successfully reassured herself, then checked the numbers for empty rooms. Then, examining the fire escape diagram next to them, she learned the love hotel’s layout. The placement of the rooms, the placement of the windows... If north is that way, then... right.

“Room 202,” she finally decided.

“Huh? That one looks pretty small...” Kamoi objected. “They have better rooms.”

“Maybe I’ll just leave?” Kaname suggested.

“Ah, only kidding. Sorry, sorry. That one’s fine... okay? Okay?” Kamoi said placatingly. He appeared to be completely spineless.

Kaname hit the button, took the keycard, and headed for the second floor. Room 202 was right next to the elevator. Giving the vaguest of responses to Kamoi’s attempts at small talk—questions about her school uniform, assurances to relax—Kaname entered the room.

Surprising. It’s actually pretty nice... was her first thought upon entering. The lighting was bright, the furniture was new, and the room was spic and span. There was a large LCD screen and an audio system. Strange, she’d always assumed love hotels would be seedier than this... Still, the room’s most conspicuous object was the large double bed that took up most of the corner of the room. There were tissues boxes on the pillows, and... Ah, yuck.

Whatever, she told herself dismissively. Guess it’s time to set this guy straight...

“Okay. I want to talk to you about—” Just as Kaname turned around to broach the subject, she found Kamoi already rushing at her, nostrils flaring. He was pulling off his jacket and tie as he lumbered towards her. There was madness in his eyes; he looked like a completely different person than before.

“We can shower after,” he said urgently.

“Um?”

“You’re so pretty, Mizuki-chan.”

“I need to talk—”

“You don’t have to be afraid.”

“No, I meant—”

“Ahh, that high school uniform...”

“Hey, let me say—”

“Mizuki-chan!!” Kamoi swept her up in his arms with the force of a tsunami, and she gagged on his booze-steeped breath. He was holding her too tight for her to even struggle; at this point, a normal girl might have started crying.

But unfortunately for Kamoi, Kaname wasn’t normal: she’d run gauntlets of gunfire and explosions with Sousuke; she’d had a coldhearted terrorist pointing a gun at her; she’d been through a literal deathmatch with that steel wall of a sergeant, John Dunnigan. This man was small-time by comparison.

“Darn it...!” Without panicking or screaming, Kaname reached for the 200,000 volt stungun she’d arranged in an easily-reachable place in her bag. She calmly removed the safety, jammed the prongs into Kamoi’s side, and with a cool-headed mercilessness she’d never felt before, she pulled the trigger.

The man grunted, spasmed briefly, and then went limp. He toppled onto Kaname, sending them both onto the bed, where she ended up lying face-up beneath his very heavy body. After shoving him off with some effort, she mused to herself, shoulders heaving, “I wonder who counts as the victim in this case?”

After a few minutes to calm her breathing, Kaname sprang into action again. She popped open her bag and searched around inside, eventually producing two sets of aluminum alloy handcuffs, tear gas spray, a powerful flashlight, and another disposable taser.

It was an outrageous arsenal by the standards of a teenage girl; they were all things Sousuke had forced on her in the past, but which she hadn’t paid much mind to before now. She’d confiscated the handcuffs from him, too, but until today, they’d all been gathering dust in a drawer.

Holding the handcuffs in her mouth, she grabbed the legs of the unconscious Kamoi, and dragged him to the bathroom. Even someone as athletic as she was had to struggle with the weight of a fully grown man.

The bathroom was shockingly large and fancy. It had a bathtub with a jacuzzi, which was big enough for two adults with room to spare.

Ah... I guess some people take baths together... Nodding in recognition for some reason, her eyes fell on a metal fixture next to the bathtub. It looked like a towel rack, but the location of it was unusual—It must have some use she couldn’t fathom. Ah, well. It looks sturdy, at least...

She fastened Kamoi’s leg to the fixture with the handcuffs, and tugged a few times to make sure it would hold. That should do it. He wouldn’t be able to leave the bathroom. He probably wouldn’t even be able to cry for help—given the kind of hotel this was, it probably had great soundproofing.

Okay, next... Kaname slammed the bathroom door shut and began searching around the wash area. She snatched up one of the bathrobes laid out for guests, and returned to the bed.

“Now...” She put her hands on her hips, and examined her outfit: her faithful, familiar winter uniform. But her earlier hypothesis—that there might be a transmitter planted somewhere on her person—meant she had to ditch her clothing.

She quickly began to disrobe. Off came her white jacket and blue skirt, her blouse and ribbon tie, her shoes and wristwatch—all of it.

Once she was in her underwear, she did another round of thinking. She felt around the elastic in her panties and decided there couldn’t be anything there. But what about her bra? Could modern technology create a transmitter that would fit into one of the cups? The answer... unfortunately, yes.

She let out a sigh, shed her bra, and set it on the bed with the rest of her clothing. She felt too awkward to dissect it to determine the presence of a transmitter there. She spun around in front of the mirror, now only in her white panties. She wasn’t there to admire her own naked form; she was checking to make sure there was nothing suspicious stuck on her skin. Once she was certain she was clean, she put on the bathrobe. She closed it firmly over her chest, then tied it in place with the belt.

Time to choose a weapon... She grabbed the taser. It was the disposable self-defense kind, so it only had two charges. You could hit someone within five meters with enough high-voltage current to knock them out. And then the handcuffs... she couldn’t forget them. She had no guarantee that these things weren’t also bugged, but considering they’d been lying in a drawer up until today, it seemed pretty unlikely.

“Okay, let’s do this.” Kaname slapped her cheeks, and revved herself up.

Kaname turned off the lights, then opened the rectangular door in the northern wall. As expected, there was a window on the other side. After some fumbling, she managed to get the window open; outside, she could see the wall of the next hotel over within reach. The alley below was pretty far off the main road, so there was no sign of anyone there.

The rain was coming down harder now. In the dim light, she could see sheets of water sweeping across the narrow strip of concrete. Below was a chain-link fence that separated the two hotels; since she was on the second floor, the top of the fence appeared to be just within stepping range.

Okay, now... Kaname thought to herself, creeping onto the window frame and leaning out, with the taser’s strap held in her mouth. Gripping the window frame firmly with both hands, she worked one foot towards the top of the fence. The front of her bathrobe immediately fell open—She knew nobody could see her, but it still added to her stress.

The tip of her toe touched the fence. Almost there—

She gasped. The metal was wet with the rain, and just as she was about to shift her weight over, her foot slipped. Her hands lost their grip. She tried to work her fingers into the chain links instead, but she couldn’t. Balance lost, she plummeted, scraping her arm against the fence on her way to the concrete below.

The impact left her right side numb, and forced a groan from her throat. The pain was so bad that she couldn’t breathe at first. The taser had fallen nearby; the belt of her bathrobe had come away easily, and was lying in a puddle beyond it. For a while, she just lay on the wet concrete, curled up in the rain.

She was in an alley behind a love hotel, alone, effectively naked, and soaked to the bone.

It was unsightly. It was ugly. It was pathetic.

A wave of futility washed over her, and she almost started crying from the misery of it all. “Stop it...” she whispered then. You’re showing weakness again. Purge all those stupid thoughts, she commanded herself. Trust yourself. Now, keep going.

Gritting her teeth, Kaname picked herself up. There were scrapes here and there along her soft, fair skin. Fortunately, no bones were broken. It looked like she’d get off with some bruises, at worst.

She dragged the muddy, soaked bathrobe belt toward her, tied it firmly back into place, and then picked up the taser. She wanted to check to make sure it wasn’t damaged, but since it only fired twice, she opted against it. Instead, she stood up, unsteadily, and began to walk forward in her bare feet.

Kaname began to walk the hotel’s perimeter. As she passed by the back door, she could hear the receptionist watching TV. There, she stepped over some bushes, mounted a cement wall, then got around behind the hotel block, where she wouldn’t be seen. About three buildings down from there, she came to a hotel with a fire escape in the back.

That’s it... she told herself. Holding her robe tightly closed, Kaname looked up at the stairway, where rain continued to spatter the rusty, unadorned iron frame.

She’d scouted out this hotel in advance; it was the tallest building in the area. The roof would provide a perfect view of the nearby area and the main avenue—which meant it was also the most likely place for her stalker to be hiding. Too elementary? Maybe—but she had a feeling she was right.

Kaname’s breathing was coming hard and ragged now. Her fingertips and toes were freezing, yet for some reason, her body was on fire. She climbed over the iron grille at the entrance then carefully ascended the fire escape. After climbing around six floors, she found the roof within reach.

Once she was in range to poke her eyes up over the lip, she did so, and inspected the surrounding area. The roof turned out to be host to a labyrinthine layout of water towers and air conditioning units. She couldn’t see anyone, at least from here.

Kaname crept onto the roof, carefully and quietly. She kept her body low, half-crawling her way to one of the humming compressors. She peeked out from behind it to get a look at the other half of the roof—the part that faced the main avenue. The street illumination below gave her a precise silhouette of the roof’s edge. It looked like a river of light in the darkness. And on the bank of the river—

Is that him? Kaname wondered. She could see a man squatting there, his back to her. He was kneeling on the edge of the roof, looking down at the street. He didn’t look especially imposing, just a bit on the tall side, maybe Kaname’s height. He wore a thin coat over his rather plump frame, and there was a large attaché case at his feet.

He was also holding a small electronic device, and despite the rain, he didn’t have an umbrella. She was sure now: it was him. Her hand, numbed with the cold, gripped the taser tightly. Remove the safety... there. Kaname took in a deep breath and crept up to the man. Thanks to her bare feet and the rain’s constant roar, she made no noise as she moved.

The man’s gaze remained focused on the street below. He didn’t seem to have noticed her.

Just five meters left... she thought. She could feel her heart racing, her pulse pounding through the muscles of her neck. Three meters left. Close enough.

“Don’t move!” Kaname shouted. The man jolted in response but froze in place. “I have a weapon on you. Put your hands up and turn to face me—slowly.” She recited the lines she remembered from some movie she’d seen once, and the man did as he was told. She could see his face now: a bespectacled middle-aged man, overweight, about forty. He had the air of a bureaucrat to him.

The sight of her—standing there in a soaked bathrobe, black hair in disarray and holding a taser on him—caused the man to let out a groan. “What in the world...” He had a high, husky voice.

“You have business with me, right?” she retorted. “So I thought I’d come to you.”

“You noticed the transmitter, then?” the man asked, thoughtfully, after a moment. He looked like he was trying hard to appear calm and in control, despite his obvious frustration. “That’s why you went to a hotel with a complete stranger... I think I underestimated you.”

“You sure did,” Kaname told him. “Now, you have a gun, right? Pull it out slowly and drop it at your feet.”

“I’m from Mithril,” the man told her. “I won’t harm you.”

“You can say that all you want, but there’s no way I’ll trust you.” Kaname’s breath came out in white puffs as she spoke. She couldn’t keep herself from shivering from the cold and her fear.

As if noticing that, the man let out a mocking laugh. “Don’t get cocky, now. You think I feel threatened by a taser? I can’t kill you, but I can still teach that smart mouth of yours a lesson. Still, we have bigger priorities right now: These last few days, you’ve had someone besides me tailing—”

“I said drop the gun, you piece of shit!” Kaname cried.

At exactly that moment a bullet hit the man square in the chest. The impact brought a spray of droplets from his rain-soaked button-up shirt.

“Huh?” Kaname breathed.

Another shot came. Then another, and another. The man’s plump frame twitched and trembled. One shot hit his head and tore off a part of his scalp. With an eerily expressionless face, the self-professed Mithril agent staggered and fell into a puddle.

Kaname turned around. There was another man there, dressed in a plain jacket and jeans, standing beside an air conditioning unit about ten paces away. He was skinny, with short-cropped hair. She’d never seen him before. No, wait—wasn’t he the one she’d seen the other day in Sengawa Shopping Street?

“Found you,” the man said, holding a black automatic pistol in his right hand. “Nei hou, my dear. And goodbye.”

“Wait—” Kaname began to say. But without a moment’s hesitation, the man pointed the gun at Kaname and fired.

What happened next was pure luck. Perhaps it was her bewilderment at the suddenness of his appearance, or her body simply buckling from the cold... but one of Kaname’s knees suddenly gave out from under her. That slight loss of balance meant that the bullet only grazed her cheek.

After a long pause, Kaname let out a breath. She was surprised, but so was the man. The slide portion of his pistol remained locked in its cocked-back position, and she remembered that this meant he was out of bullets. She’d seen Sousuke wield guns enough times to know that.

The assassin embarked upon his change of magazine, slowly and deliberately. He showed no sign of rushing, and the reason was obvious: “There’s nowhere to run,” he told her calmly.

He’s right, Kaname realized. She was cornered against the edge of the roof. The best hiding places—the air conditioning units and water towers, and her one real way out, the stairs—were all on the other side of the man. There was nowhere to run, nowhere at all, and the overwhelming reality of the situation washed over her like a wave.

Despair seized Kaname’s heart in an iron grip. What’s going on? she wondered. I don’t know. Who is this man? I don’t know. Why do I have to die? I don’t know. Is this my fate? My fate... The moment these words entered her mind, an indescribable anger began to well up inside her. Her legs, once frozen up in fear, now sprang into action. As if acting of its own volition, her body turned and launched into a dash.

I’m going to fight this, she told herself fiercely. No matter what happens, I won’t let that creep toy with me. I’ll struggle to my last breath. I won’t offer myself up for slaughter.

I wonder if he’d tell me I’m doing the right thing... she wondered, thinking wistfully of Sousuke.

“It’s no use,” the assassin told her, as he readied his gun once more, and then fired. The bullet grazed her black hair. The edge of the roof was coming closer and closer, but Kaname didn’t stop; she sped up. Her feet left the concrete. Using the raised edge of the roof as a vaulting platform, she leaped into the air.

Now she held her breath, and looked down to where the vast, wide alley stretched out below her. She made it across the deep, deep ravine, and descended in an arc towards the next building over, which was about two stories shorter than the one she’d just come from.

On the building’s roof there was a shed, made out of sheet iron. Her body collapsed on top of it, broke through the roof, and smashed through the junk that was piled up inside. The sound was tremendous, and Kaname found herself showered with fragments of wood and plastic. The moment of impact made the world around her go black, and forced the air out of her lungs in a soundless wheeze. Scrapes, cuts, bruises, sprains... pain assaulted her from every direction, and her face contorted in agony.

“Ugh...” she moaned. She was alive. And... she could still move. Incredibly, the game wasn’t over.

Kaname tried to stand... and fell. One more time— she told herself, and managed it, this time. The bathrobe was hanging on her shoulders by a thread. The belt was gone now, and nowhere in sight, but she still had the taser, gripped tightly in her right hand.

She kicked the door open; it gave way more easily than she’d expected. Stumbling out of the shed, Kaname looked up at the roof she’d just jumped from. The man’s silhouette was visible. His gun was pointed toward her.

With a grunt, she took off running. A muffled gunshot passed over her head. The bullet ricocheted off the roof at her feet, kicking up a spray of water.

The stairs! Kaname looked around for the stairs. This building didn’t have an external fire escape, and she couldn’t see anywhere to jump down on or over to. The only way out was in, through a door in a low tower that took up a corner of the roof.

Panting, she threw herself at the metal door, and turned the heavy knob. She pulled as hard as she could, but it wouldn’t budge. Locked! Both pushing and pulling proved fruitless. The door rattled in her grip, but showed no sign of giving way. She punched and kicked it and cried and screamed, but the door remained unyielding.

“No, no...” she moaned. Her one escape route was denied to her. Clinging to the door, she looked back at the roof she’d come from one more time. In the hazy neon light, she could see the assassin moving lithely to jump down to her building.

For the well-trained assassin, such a drop was easily accomplished. If a mere girl could fall that far unfazed, he could do it with ease. He touched down like a goose in the water—suitable imagery for a man called Fei-hung—then righted himself smoothly and began walking.

He couldn’t see the girl from here... But then, even if she could hide, she couldn’t truly escape him. There was no need to hurry. He just had to see the job through, as he always did: corner the chicken, then chop off its head.

He’d shoot her with his gun, defile her corpse, take a picture and send it to Hong Kong. That was what that man wanted—he had no doubt about that. Even so, he was starting to grow weary of the girl’s struggling. She refused to beg for her life, or resign herself with dignity; she just kept running, even though it wouldn’t save her. It was really just embarrassing to watch.

He made it to the entrance to the stairs. In addition to the broken shed, the roof was a mess of water towers and air conditioning units, as well as a storage space for gardening and planting tools. The cluttered roof made it hard to get a good look around him; the rain and the dark didn’t help matters.

Of course, he wasn’t letting his guard down. He wouldn’t heed her cries for mercy. He’d give her a quick death the next time he saw her. Those were the orders he had been given, after all.

After a careful examination of the area, he realized immediately where the girl was hiding. Beyond an air conditioning unit, he could see stacks of large planter pots, piled high and left to the elements. Behind the pots, through a just-visible gap, he could see someone crouching. That someone was dressed in a muddy bathrobe, huddled like a cornered rabbit. Apparently, she thought she could wait him out there.

Fei-hung approached the spot, took aim, and fired. The .45 caliber slugs caused the pots to break into noisy pieces and collapse. They also shredded the bathrobe beyond. The girl didn’t scream, but just spasmed and fell towards him in the darkness.

No... he realized, his eyes widening. It wasn’t the girl. What he saw toppled there in the dim light was simply... the scraps of a pot, wrapped up in a bathrobe! Then where is the girl?!

From the top of the water tank, Kaname gazed down at the back of the man’s head. She was naked except for her underwear, and her soaked hair clung to her frozen body. Her face was as pale as death. Kneeling down, concealing her chest with her left arm despite her desperate situation, she held the taser steadily in front of herself with her free right hand.

Just two meters—that’s how close she was. She was afraid to pull the trigger. The tension and fear were driving her mad. He might notice her any moment, yet countless doubts stayed her finger on the trigger. Will I really hit him? Will a weapon like this—a self-defense tool, really—actually affect him? Did he really not see through my trap? Maybe he’s just pretending to fall for it... After all, how could an amateur like me outsmart someone like him? It can’t be this easy, can it? Maybe it would be better to beg for my life? Or yell “hands up!” first?

In that moment, a set of words she had heard once before rose up in her mind. Don’t lick your lips in front of your prey. The person who had said those words wasn’t here with her now, but remembering them gave her the last ounce of strength she needed.

Kaname pulled the trigger, and a dry pow! ripped through the air. The explosive force of the propellant cartridge sent the spiked prongs flying into the man’s shoulder, where they stuck. Tens of thousands of volts raced through the wire, causing him to spasm wildly. White smoke and sparks flew from where the prongs pierced his shoulder.

After taking a few seconds’ worth of electric charge, the man fell to his knees. He didn’t collapse, though; he had endured the shot.

She fired again. This time, the prongs stabbed into the man’s back. Another zap, just to be sure—The man let out a groan, dropped his gun, and toppled over like a sack of potatoes. It didn’t look like he was about to move any time soon.

Did I do it? The moment the thought entered her mind, Kaname’s breathing suddenly quickened, and her body began to sweat. Panting heavily, she dropped the spent taser, and jumped down off the water tank. She crept up to the man slowly, picked up the gun and retrieved the bathrobe that had fallen nearby. The garment that had saved her life was like a tattered rag by now, but she still felt better having it on.

The man appeared to be completely unconscious. That was natural, of course—she’d hit him twice with a taser. Even if he was a professional assassin, he was still just a person.

And she had beaten him. She’d beaten him, all by herself. There was no rush of elation that came with the thought. She just stood there in the falling rain, struggling to process the reality of it.

Just then, a new voice reached her ears. “Looks like you won.”

Kaname looked around and saw three human-like shapes standing beyond the air conditioning unit, illuminated by the faint neon light. She gazed at them silently.

The one at the center was a young man on the short side, holding an umbrella. No... he wasn’t short; he only looked that way, because the men flanking him were so tall. The two hulking creatures were dressed in dark green coats, with hoods drawn low to hide their faces. One of the large men had the Mithril agent with him; he was carrying him over his shoulder, as if he were feather-light.

“I believe,” the young man said in elegant tones, “that there are two kinds of women in the world: those who look good in the rain, and those who don’t. You are, without a doubt, the former—I think anyone who saw you now would be forced to agree.”

At first, Kaname could only stare at him. “That’s sarcasm, right?” she said listlessly, letting the right hand, which was still holding the pistol, droop to her side. A cold wind stirred her tattered bathrobe and her soaked black hair.

“You wound me,” the young man objected. “I meant it as the highest compliment.”

“Uh-huh,” Kaname agreed suspiciously. “And who are you, again?”

The young man advanced toward her in lieu of a response. He was taller than she’d thought—around the same height as Sousuke, maybe—but he carried himself with a sort of airy weightlessness. He wore a long black coat over black pants, a black vest, and a white shirt. They all had a modest, yet lustrous sheen that suggested garments of the highest quality.

“A kindred spirit,” he said at last, closing his umbrella.

Kaname could see his face now: this young man wasn’t Japanese. He had fair, smooth skin, bluish-gray eyes, and silver hair that seemed to flow like waves.

If she hadn’t been through everything she’d been through, she might have found herself captivated by his prince-like visage. His expression was languidly enigmatic, in a way that made it impossible for her to tell if he was friend or foe, hostile or harmless.

“I came to help you... is what I’d like to say, but that’s not actually the case,” he admitted. “I suspect that the result would have been the same either way, though—whether I’d lent you a hand or just chosen to watch. I don’t have any particular business with you now, but if you want to know my motives regarding you, I suppose I’d say I’m testing a theory.”

“A theory?” Kaname questioned.

“A paradox, related to fate and karma,” the young man clarified. “A dilemma, you could say.”

“You’re annoying the hell out of me,” she retorted. “Can you just say what you mean already?”

“I’m not a fan of excessive directness. Words are such fleeting vehicles... But that aspect of you is definitely part of your appeal.” The man smiled, with the air of someone enjoying some great classic song.

Kaname fell silent. Suddenly, she felt as though she’d met this man before. In my New York days? she wondered. No, that’s not it... She’d had no friends in New York with that particular shade of hair. She’d never seen the color in movies or photo spreads, either. It was a distinctive ash blond—

Suddenly, it came to her. “Wait,” she said. “Are you Tessa’s—”

Ignoring the question, the man walked past Kaname to look down at the assassin lying in the puddle. “Get up, Fei-hung. Surely you’re back with us by now?”

The man stirred a bit, then lifted his head up and whispered, “Mr. Silver... you were watching?”

“Not quite the whole show, I’m afraid,” the young man said apologetically. “She’s too much for you, you know. You should really give up.”

“I refuse,” the man named Fei-hung said hoarsely.

“I’ll overlook your actions, which were taken in defiance of the organization’s will,” the young man told him. “But I want you to convince your brother to cease his rampage in Hong Kong immediately.”

“You think he’ll do what I tell him?” Fei-hung scoffed. “You think he’ll even listen to me?”

“Revenge is an empty thing, you know,” the young man told him.

“This isn’t about revenge. It’s about doing what he asked us for—the man who picked the two of us off the streets,” Fei-hung replied. “As long as he wills it, I’ll keep trying to kill her for as long as I live.”

“I see...” the young man observed, in a distant tone of voice. “Then I’m afraid this is goodbye, Fei-hung.”

“Only because I’ll kill you, Leonard Testarossa!” The next instant, the assassin had sprung into the air. His arms flashed with motion; a silver light went tearing through the air in the young man’s direction. In that same instant, Kaname saw his coat ripple. The young man himself barely moved, but the coat seemed to come to life, intercepting the light streaking towards him—four throwing knives of varying sizes—and knocking them away. His clothing wasn’t just bulletproof; it was actually moving on its own, unfurling like a pair of protective black wings.

The assassin grunted in surprise, but did not stop his charge. He seemed to glide across the surface of the roof, drawing another knife in a backhand grip as he went.

“That won’t help you,” Leonard told him. Then one of the large men in green was suddenly there, standing in between them. He’d been motionless and wordless up until that point, but in that moment, he had moved like the wind. The assassin charged right into him and plunged his knife into his center mass, but as if ignoring the blow entirely, the large man just seized the assassin’s throat with an arm as thick as a log.

“Ngh!” Fei-hung choked out.

With that one arm, the large man lifted the struggling assassin into the air; he must have been incredibly strong. 《Requesting order,》 the large man said, in a clearly artificial voice.

“Countermeasure A1,” Leonard ordered. “And be thorough.”

《Roger,》 the large man in green replied. Kaname heard a snap; Fei-hung’s neck was broken.

For extra measure, the large man then pressed his free left hand against the assassin’s chest. There was a gunshot blast, and blood came bursting out of the assassin’s back through a gaping hole opened up in his chest. It shattered his spinal cord and scapula, which left both of his arms dangling at strange angles.

《Countermeasure A1 complete,》 the large man reported, before callously tossing the corpse away. 《Designated threat neutralized.》

“Well done,” Leonard commended him. “Return to standby.”

《Roger.》 The large man walked past Kaname, his coat flapping in the wind. Each movement released a low, audible creak from his joints.

Kaname was able to catch a glimpse beneath his hood, and saw only a matte black mask with a narrow slit—like snow goggles—where the eyes should be.

He’s not... human? she realized. The revelation came to Kaname in a corner of her mind that was otherwise numb from the brutal sight she’d just witnessed.

“Plan 1211, the Alastor,” Leonard explained without prompting. “You might call them the world’s smallest AS—though at that size, you might just as well call them ‘robots’... I think you’re capable of understanding this now, but it’s really quite difficult to get an AS to act autonomously. Satisfactory miniaturization of the power and control systems proved challenging.”

From what Kaname knew, the technical hurdles to achieve what he was describing went far beyond ‘challenging.’

“Now, that was the actual reason I was here,” Leonard told her. “I’m sorry to have made you witness something so awful.”

“I... I don’t really know what’s going on,” Kaname said. “But...”

“But?”

“I’m sure you didn’t... have to kill him,” she finished, her voice trembling.

Leonard looked genuinely puzzled. “He was trying to kill you, you know.”

“I know, but—”

“Besides, I haven’t killed nearly as many people as your boyfriend,” he pointed out again.

Kaname gasped, immediately recognizing that he was referring to Sousuke. Instead of asking ‘how do you know him?’ she found herself protesting the claim, almost reflexively. “He... He’s been fighting in wars since he was little. He couldn’t help it. The only people he fights are bad guys... and he always helps innocent people, and the weak and vulnerable. Plus... it’s not like he likes it,” she said defensively. “I think it really bothers him, actually. That’s why... um... it’s not the same. He wouldn’t... do things this way...”

Leonard listened to her awkward stammering with great interest. Then he peered into her eyes, smiling mischievously. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”

“Well... I mean...” Kaname found herself averting her eyes.

“The core behavior is the same in either case, yet you only criticize me,” Leonard observed logically. “You really are partial to him, aren’t you?”

“I...”

“You love him.”

“I don’t,” she protested.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Look at me,” Leonard demanded.

“What—” What came next caught Kaname completely off guard: Leonard took her gently by the shoulders and pulled her towards him, and the second she looked into his eyes... his lips were touched to hers. The contact was cold, and soft, and wet.

It was all so sudden that her mind went blank; Kaname couldn’t remember where she was, who he was, who she was—anything. She felt no revulsion; to the contrary... that sweet, fleeting sensation threatened to take hold of her heart and never let go. Time had stopped.

When time moved again, Leonard accepted the slap without resistance. She’d thought she’d hit him with all the force she had, but it had only left him slightly staggered. The men—rather, the robots—standing behind him seemed to register it as an attack, because they immediately lowered their hips into a ready battle posture.

“It’s all right,” Leonard told them. “Stand by.” The two Alastors straightened again.

Kaname backed up to the water tank, hand over her lips, glaring at Leonard. She wanted to cry, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing that. “What was that supposed to be?” she demanded.

“A kiss to wake you up, I suppose. I’ve fallen in love with you, you see.” Leonard smiled sincerely at her as he stroked his wounded cheek.

“Too bad, because I hate you,” she retorted. “You make me want to puke.”

“That’s part of what I like about you,” Leonard said idly. “So superficially fragile, yet forceful. Superficially coarse, yet noble... you’re like water, ever-shifting.”

“Shut up!!” Kaname shouted.

He held up his hands in mock fear, then gave an inaudible order to the robots. One walked to the roof’s exit, and yanked the locked metal door off its hinges. “I think I’d better leave before you try to kill me,” he decided.

The other robot, the one that was carrying the Mithril man, laid the corpse down on the concrete. No—it wasn’t a corpse. The man actually stirred, and then let out a wordless groan.

“Yes, it lives,” Leonard said. “I’d consider this person an enemy as well... but, I wonder: would you care very much if I eliminated them?” The robot pointed the black gun barrel glinting on the back of its left arm at the man, and a dull thunk rang out as it prepared to fire. This was the same high-caliber machine gun it had used to finish off the assassin earlier.

“W-Wait!” Kaname cried out.

“Why?” Leonard asked curiously.

“I... I still have business with that person,” Kaname said. “Don’t kill him!”

“Hmm... But this person spoke very rudely to you earlier,” Leonard said with a frown. “If words could warrant a death sentence, those would certainly qualify.”

“That’s my decision,” Kaname said in a hushed tone. “I’ll... forgive what you did to me, if you just don’t kill him.”

“You surprise me,” Leonard said. “For scum like this? I doubt your chastity really comes that cheap.”

“Don’t make me say it again. That’s. My. Decision!” Kaname spelled out, and Leonard looked genuinely shocked for a moment.

“You surprise me again.” He chuckled. “Very well. Then I’ll leave this person right here.” The robot withdrew its arm cannon, sparing the unconscious agent, while the other picked up the assassin’s corpse, again effortlessly.

Then, with the two machines trailing behind, Leonard began walking away from the exit, towards the edge of the roof. One more step would take him plunging onto the ground four floors down... but he stopped right on the verge, and turned back.

“Before I say goodbye, a word: I meant it when I said I’d fallen in love with you,” Leonard said wistfully. “I wasn’t just teasing. Please believe me.”

She said nothing.

“Chidori Kaname-san. You still live in an illusion,” he told her earnestly. “In time, you’ll be able to see a new world. And then, a girl like you might not need to fear the whispers.”

She blinked in confusion. “What are you—”

“We’ll meet again,” he said, cutting her off. Then Leonard and the robots jumped down together, and disappeared from her view.

There was a sound of cracking asphalt. Kaname ran up to the edge, and looked down at the road where they had fallen, but all she saw was gray mist hanging over the dark road. There was no sign of a human presence.

Kaname returned to the man from Mithril, who was lying in a puddle. He returned her gaze blankly. The right half of his round, Anpanman-like face was completely caved in, yet there wasn’t a drop of blood to be seen.

She could see now that what the shot had blasted away wasn’t flesh, but urethane foam. The middle-aged face she had seen was actually a skillfully done mask; now, Kaname saw the real face peeking out from beneath it.

She removed the mask. Beneath it was the face of a young man with almond-shaped eyes. No... was it a woman? She couldn’t tell; the face was slender and androgynous. They were probably a little over 20 years old, she decided, and looked completely emaciated, the face dreadfully pale. It felt like a face she’d seen a few times around the neighborhood... but the memories were vague, and she couldn’t be sure.

“It was... a disguise?” she mused out loud.

“A disguise... yes,” the agent said, now in their natural voice, which sounded cold. There was no blood flowing from the bullet holes in their pot-bellied stomach or chest, either; the agent must have been wearing a bulletproof vest underneath the bodysuit. Still, there were small streams of blood trickling from their shoulders and thighs.

“Can you move?” Kaname asked. “How bad are you hurt?”

“I’m not sure. That man earlier... injected me... with something.”

“You want help?”

“No...” the agent said, teeth gritted. “I still have my pride. This failure... this mess I’ve gotten into. I’d rather... die like this.”

“I see.” Kaname turned her back on the Mithril spy, and then took a deep breath. So many things had happened over the course of just ten minutes. She felt like her head was going to burst from the swirl of sensations: surprise, relief, suspicion, humiliation, anger, fear... and most of all, the kiss that continued to linger on her lips, no matter how she tried to wipe it away. Kaname hated that she’d forgotten to resist, that she’d yielded to him at all, even if just for a moment.

He’d taken her first kiss. Well... strictly speaking, she’d had a play kiss with a girl in her class back in kindergarten, but assuming that didn’t count, this was her real first kiss. Some might find it stupid to care about first kisses in this day and age, but she’d really been convinced that hers would be with someone she loved. Like, for instance—well, someone she loved, at any rate. It had been very important to her. And that man had gone and—

Kaname growled and punched the water tank. There was a dull clang. She insisted to herself that the reason she was crying was because of the pain in her fist and the scrapes all over her body.

She moaned and whined softly, struggling to hold it all in. The feelings that she’d kept locked down tight since her performance in the teacher’s office had broken their chains and sent her heart pitching and dipping. Her strength, which hadn’t wavered even under an assassin’s attack, had been shattered into pieces by a single kiss.

“Sousuke...” she cried. Had she really been so unfazed by his disappearance? Had she really remained cold as ice? Of course she hadn’t! Why aren’t you here? she wondered despairingly. This is all your fault. None of this would have happened if you were still here. How are you ever going to make it up to me? You can’t be happy about this, right? Because I’m definitely not! Do something. Be here. Say ‘not an issue.’ She repeated the words under her breath, but naturally, no reply came. Crying to herself on a random rooftop wasn’t going to change anything.

If only she could hit a reset button. If only she could turn back time, to go back to that haircut. I’m not stupid. I knew what I felt as I watched him doze off... those affectionate feelings and natural urges. This is my punishment for lying to myself about them, she thought miserably. I guess that was my last chance, huh? I could have spoken to him sweetly... I could have said, “Hey, want to kiss?” But I ran away instead. I doused him with water and ran away! And while it was just a small fantasy, it was important to me, and now I’ve missed the chance forever. After he’s already gone...

“I’m always this way...” she sniffled. Even if I find someone I like, I refuse to acknowledge it. ‘They always betray you, anyway,’ I say. ‘You can’t depend on anyone. They’ll end up hurting you, just like Mom.’

So I don’t rely on anyone. I don’t get close to anyone. I don’t... even admit to how I feel, most of the time. Then, it’s only when it’s too late that I realize... what I could have done, but didn’t have the courage to do...

“Sousuke...” she choked out again. Is it the same again, this time? Will I let things end without taking any action?

Again, she asked herself: Is this really the end? How long had she spent now, crying and trembling in the rain? Her tears stopped, and she looked up.

She turned, walked back up to the Mithril agent lying on the ground, and said, “You said you’d rather die, right?”

The agent said nothing.

“Why not put in a little more unsightly struggling?” she suggested. “That’s what I’m going to do. On and on, forever.”