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Told you, idiot.

Overall volume grows again, this time with determined desperation instead of anger floating in the air. Whoever’s there behind the mic puts her all in the music, just listen to these stretched ‘youu’s filled with different emotion each inserted in an otherwise indifferent song. “No amount of pain would ever stop me coming back to you,” she swears over and over to the invisible executor, making the half-sane confession end. C#, B, C#, E, C#. I suddenly realize that the rhythm imitates a heartbeat.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we understand your eagerness for more,” Hanako shouts out in a victorious voice through the storm of the crowd’s reaction. “Yes, yes, thank you very much! We’ll be back in a minute.”

The singer on the screens retreats behind the curtain, the same girl appears next to us, looking left and right, like we’re hard to find.

“Gimme that,” she point at me. I fail to understand the command, but she crosses the space between us and takes the flask by force.

“Aaah, feels like dragons,” she concludes, having halved the remains, and runs back.

Shizune starts signing something in silence disturbed only by the crowd’s murmur, but gives up a few gestures in.

“All right, Special. Three, two, one, go.”

I command in a weak voice, only to see her raise her hand. Not a sound comes from the instruments. What? Her hand chops air and tears the microphone off the stand in one motion.

“I’VE GOT ANOTHER CONFESSION TO MAKE!”

Instruments kick in, and the microphone travels to the left, undamaged, hand.

“I’m your fool,” she stretches with her clear side to the public.

“EVERYONE’S GOT THEIR CHAINS TO BREAK,” the right side shouts.

“Holding you.”

Daigo starts trembling due to the most unfortunate of diseases, contained laughter.

“You cheeky- no, it’s so dumb you all musta lost it,” is the only comment he finds worthy to drop.

Well, we did. We entered this contest without a band, that has to count for crazy. By the time when I can mold this idea into a response, though, it’s time for chorus to shut any conversation down. The image of Hanako, unusually tall with her back straightened out, repeatedly asking someone in front of her “Is someone getting the best, the best, the best, the best of you?” is too much to take lightly. At the second chorus Daigo resumes:

“She’s wasted,” and is correct. “We’ll drink too, after the results.”

“Someone wants to break the ru~les, doesn’t he?” sounds like Misha managed to relax a bit.

“Oh c’mon, it’s legal if everyone agrees.”

Shizune quickly butts in with her signs, denying the interpreter support.

“Stop assisting him! You’re the head of the Co~uncil, Shicchan~.”

“Yeah, dude,” Kurosaki turns to me, like the legality is not his concern anymore, “I got some up my sleeve, but the real stuff’s in dad’s trunk.”

“So?”

“So go get it.”

“Look, I’m not your errand boy.”

“You sure? ‘Cause only one place on campus deals in quick whiskey, and the prices there…”

He makes a meaningful pause and winks. In the end I’m running errands anyway, screw my life.

“You sound an ex~pert on the subject.”

“Chill out already, Mikado. Hey, Nakai! Takashi knows the old man’s number.”

Right, and you don’t.

Few words are spoken on our with Maeda joint mission. At first, Hanako’s voice is too mesmerizing, especially once she moves on to the last song. For some reason, starlight and references to decades old rock hits make a better mix than expected, that with the singer’s breaking tones taken into account. “Turn, turn, turn it up loud, light you one up and pass it around,” I’m still not sure how such unhealthy lyrics got approved for performance. Then we feel guilty distracting Daigo’s dad from what looks like a high society hangout at an acceptable distance from the stage’s air-tearing amplifiers. Come to think of it, many students are rich kids, so this sight is to be expected.

Maeda takes the keys without any hesitation, and in a minute we’re snooping through the contents of a very serious looking Lexus Sun’s trunk. It’s mostly booze, quality booze at that. Judging by some weird-looking labels written in a language like English with more strokes, maybe French or Spanish. I guess taste can overcome patriotism at some point. Although there are a couple bottles of sake that look more expensive than any brew I’ve seen before today. Jesus, and there’s so much of this elite stuff.

“Hey, are you sure-”

“Relax, I know what to take.”

Well thanks for the answer, but there might be another problem.

“Is it okay to comb through his luggage like this?” I voice it.

My companion continues unfazed.

“You dumb or what, Nakai? Geezer trusts me like a son, else we wouldn’t be here. Hell, more than a son, actually.”

“You know him.”

“Quite closely. Did you need whiskey? Here goes, we’re stuffed.”

I give a critical look to the heavy bag in his hands.

“That’s enough liquor for three bears.”

“Well,” he scratches his forehead, “there’s us, then 3-2 and 3-4.”

“What about 3-1?”

Trunk lid falls back in place with a dull thud.

“For fuck’s sake,” Maeda turns to face me with an annoyed expression, “let the Kurosaki sort it out between themselves.”

“Family problems,” I state the obvious.

“No, but they’re too proud to admit they care about each other.”

With this topic depleted, we take course towards the auditorium where the afterparty’s supposed to take place. Hanako’s last energetic thanks have thundered from the stage some minutes ago, so the quorum should already be there.

“Doesn’t work too good for the rest of us, sadly,” Takashi picks up.

“How do you mean?”

“They’re both important. Daigo warns us about many things, and don’t delude yourself about his sources.”

Something clicks inside my head, and a few puzzle pieces fall in place.

“Things like townsfolk hostility, right?”

“Yeah, he made us go shopping in large groups starting some weeks ago. Who knows how we would’ve come to the same conclusion without him. If they continue the pissing contest, one day daddy may forget to tell his wonderful child something he heard from a private news agency officer.”

“Come on, there’s no way he’ll endanger his own son.”

Takashi makes a painful grimace hardly visible in the dark.

“Sure he won’t, and what about us? He doesn’t give two shits, if you imagine him a philanthropist. You know, there’s a …” he chokes and stops. His face is well hidden in the night, but the voice that resumes talking trembles in frustration. “There are people I love here, okay. Wouldn’t want anything bad happen to them.”

I can’t help but chuckle.

“Didn’t find you a Casanova.”

“Go to hell,” he barks in a brightened up tone. “Grumpiness is a defensive measure.”

“Against what, Shizune’s orders?”

“Yours too, you make a damn fine team.”

“Just shut up.”

I pick up the bag and move. Really now, for how long can he stand there making fun of me?

Right in front of the doors he takes it back and entrusts me with two bottles of hard stuff in exchange.

“That’s for our reps, they’ll celebrate together as always, I bet.”

“It’s almost like I’m a rep myself.”

“Well, sho’s a better candidate to get drunk with Mikado than yourself?” he lets out a short laugh.

“That was an act, Takashi. We cheated.”

“I know. And I know you’re eyeing her more than any actress.”

A groan comes out of my gut. This guy never loses.

“Are you done?” I ask with explicit irritation.

“Almost. Nakai, hmm. Keep your eyes peeled, Kurosaki-senior’s very cautious about the news lately. Be safe.”

I wave it off. Inside these walls we’re like in a castle on top of a hill, literally, and if anything happens on a shopping run, police will jump on it in a blink. A whole crowd of students assaulted is no joke.

Inside the auditorium building, the party’s just getting started. Club music pulsates synchronously with the lights, and the mood’s upbeat. Everyone’s still heated from the concert, ready to dance. Some already do, like that sweet couple- oh wait, it’s Hanako- oh no, that’s no couple, she just tries to move with the music, drunk off her ass, while some guy next to her does show some impressive moves. Lilly appears nearby, sharp and furious as never before, and takes our vocalist out of the building despite her weak resistance. Rep’s empty eyes throw thunderbolts from under threateningly furrowed brow.

My target lies upstairs, because the most obvious place to gather representatives would be the announcer’s booth hanged right under the high ceiling to oversee the whole place. The staircase, however, is on the other side of a drifting sea of bodies, navigating through which takes skill and time. Christ almighty, if this whole herd gets as drunk as, say, Hanako, well, thankfully, there’s not nearly enough booze for that.

It’s quieter at the top. The rhythm still shakes the floor, but talking at least should be possible. Weird thing is, the place is deserted. You’d expect class leaders to celebrate their yet to be announced victories, but no, even at the booth’s door it’s quiet. Well, Lilly won’t be celebrating any time soon, even if she guaranteed herself the first place, though it doesn’t change anything, we still should drink to a successful performance. Hanako did make a miracle happen.

You know, it’s not entirely quiet in here, munching sounds come from around the corner. I peek out and see Shizune pinned between the wall and a familiar stern body, clinging to it with both arms, wrapping her leg around the guy’s and passionately, heatedly kissing him. Her glasses lie on the floor, lonely and forgotten.

Oh, I see now. A dangerous game, huh? Don’t mess with the harpy, huh? I don’t even understand why I’m mad, but I quickly get back to the door, slide it open and sit down at a small round table opposite to Misha, the only other person in the room, of course.

“They suck faces?” blurry half-question, half-statement suits her image and the general atmosphere in the room, one of a lonely wet dog on a foggy day. I notice two empty wine bottles at the bin.

“Yeah,” I wait before confirming the obvious. “Jealous of her?”

“Of him.”

Oh. I mean, yeah. Right. That’s, uh, something to be expected, right? Sure. Not that it changes anything, just – ah, damn it all thrice.

“Wanna drink?”

The same empty voice without the usual waviness gets accompanied by a nod to the bottles I’m holding. Should I?

“Yeah, why not.”

After all, if I drown this situation in liquor, next morning it can turn out to be just a dream.

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With this, Act I: Ascension is nearly complete, the only thing left to do is write a little bridge chapter that's not long enough to be classified as a chapter on its own, so it won't be included in the act itself. Strap yourselves in, we're done with SoL (which I'm incredibly happy to realize) and heading straight into the Deus Ex territory.
Following acts will be called according to a certain theme that goes through the whole Deus Ex franchise: Freefall, Impact and Shockwave. Greek mythology is definitely somewhere in there.
Second act will feature way more conspiracies and suspense, while acts III and IV will be action-oriented. That is, if I manage to finish them before 2027.

In other news, changed the title from a lame one to something that sounds better. Still can't figure out a perfect one. Comments and critique on this matter, or anything related to this piece of f- ergh, piece of fanfiction, is still appreciated.

Had to divide the previous chapter to pad the thread until it hits the next page again, or the page would crash.

On the topic, though; I knew dividing the thing in acts was an artificial thing to do right from the start, but managed to divide the story into four logically separated chunks. However, some chapters try to fit in two of them at the same time, and therefor end up in none.
Please take your time to type your opinion on this chapter if you think something's wrong with it.

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Apex.

Light. All I see is bright light in the unnaturally clear sky. It’s upside down, azure screen spurts from the cloud mass below. I’m flying. From up here, I see myself calmly wave arms to maintain altitude with minimal effort.

“Nice going,” I want to say, but lips won’t move.

Do I have a mouth? From here, I only see my back, so it bothers me. The head clad in a cloud of chaotic auburn hair turns around, and instead of expected fear of an unnatural movement, a single fact pops up in mind: birds’ necks turn further than humans’.

“Sometimes I try to think like a bird too.”

My lips don’t move, my mouth stands shut, my whole face keeps frozen. A feminine face with curious eyes, sadly, quite unattractive.

“But I don’t know where to fly. I don’t have the eyes to see,” I say, even though my green embers look fine.

“There, we’re going straight to that thing,” I try to point to the distant disk, the source of radiance, then realize something important. “We?”

“You’re heading there, but will never reach it, as long as it’s your destination.”

She differentiates between herself and me, and something bursts through the lead walls of memory. One image, two students on the grass of Yamaku lawns under dim stars. Something cracks to my left.

“You don’t have arms!”

For some reason, after shouting it out loud I get a feeling it’s true.

“Of course not,” she confirms while swinging them. “I asked for wings, but they said that then I would be free. Where did you get yours?”

Another loud crack comes from the right, and a burning hot droplet lands on my cheek. I look sideways to find a horrifying sight. Two black wings burst from the place where arms once were. I can’t feel them. They work through the wind on their own. Are these feathers or scales of something midway between metal and plastic? Where have I seen a similar design? As these questions surface, wings tremble and excrete more liquid, viscous and bright. Strangely enough, it looks like wax holds the high-tech construct together.

“Mine flop inside my head, like everybody’s. Did they take yours?”

Who are they, I want to ask, but the question is pointless. I know, and when I understand, liquid wax sprays from every joint. Stretched scales flak off in an instant, and I fall. I get it now. I get it as my body rips through the clouds. The world is fine, it’s me who’s upside-down.

What scares me the most is that I’m not afraid of the fall, only curious what it’s going to end with. Is this what a human being should feel?

====

Dark. It’s so dark. I can’t see anything. On a second thought, that’s because my eyes are closed. Eyelids, more like eyeleads, huh? I make some effort and lift them.

Ho ho, no-no-no-no-no, let’s not do this for now. Morning light, usually so warm and welcoming, leaves a rectangular burning brand on my retina. That must be a window, so f I just roll to the other side, it’s going to be easier. If only any part of my body had strength in it. What in the world did we do last night to end up like this?

Blinking and squinting proves to be the way to regain sight, and in a minute it becomes clear that I’m facing the underside of a bed. Now to find out whose it is, because the blanket’s warmth implies that someone’s been looking after me. Thanks, stranger.

Pressure lands on my ears, then identifies itself as the door sound and horribly hummed “Put the Record On”.

“Hicchan~.”

Now this voice sounds weirdly quiet, in fact, it doesn’t hurt remotely as much as expected, which means Misha faces the same troubles. What could possibly- oh wait, I do remember.

“So how much did we drink?”

A hoarse whisper is the best available option; producing a real voice would probably blow my head up.

“Too~ much, can’t you tell?”

“Never again much?”

With a heroic effort, my body lifts itself to sit, making me stare at massive hips that end in striped pants. Pink stripe, white stripe, pink stripe, white, ruined brain can’t compile the word “panties” and a relevant set of emotions to go with it today. Fortunately, hips move out of sight on their own in one wide step.

“This you don~’t stare at. Waha, calm down, Hicchan.”

I’m calm like still seas, yet her bottle of cold water is appreciated. Thirst remains in its right, but at least some of the hellish heat inside leaves, and the sickness subsides. It’s now clear that this room is somebody else’s, interior being colorful and glossy and whatnot. Wait, it can’t be. It makes too much sense and therefore should not prove to be true under any circumstances.

“How did we both get to sleep in your room?” voice slowly returns to my throat.

“Can’t recall, wahaha-ow~,” she must suffer at least a fraction of this hell still. “I forgot where yours is.”

“That’s an easy question to ask.”

“Then you should’ve answered~.”

So I was that trashed, huh. Well, no wonder I can’t remember jack then.

“Hicchan~.”

“Huh?”

“Pass the uniform, please.”

And then it hits me. We are two teenagers, a boy and a girl, who spent a night in the same room together, and are now dressed in underwear and T-shirts. It takes some time to process the situation, so I mindlessly go through her stuffed wardrobe. Mom, forget every word said about the amount of clothes you own.

I take a brief pause of doubt, then turn to face her with resolve. Such a cheerful pretty face makes the next question especially hard, although the curves of her chest and other places, as well as juicy thighs and the mysterious relief of the underside of her panties bring in an opposite effect. Uh, brain, now’s a bad time to think in these kinds of terms.

As the silence lingers, she uses an unfair attack, namely starts stretching as if to shake the sleepiness away, and only when my face turns tomato-like, stops and hides her own embarrassment behind crumpled hair.

“Tell me, what exactly did we do yesterday?”

“You don’t remember? Promise?”

“Sure, it’s all fuzzy from the concert on.”

“Then it is a sec~ret!” seeing me weigh her clothes in hand, Misha compromises. “I will, after classes. You have some nerve to ask it on the spot.”

Her face acquires the hair color once again. Jesus, I’m one hell of a dick for not understanding she needs courage to say it out loud.

“Catch. Sorry, I just really need to know if we did anything irreversible.”

“Oh, you were in no condition for that~.”

Uuuuuhh…

“Did you… check?”

Uh-oh. The curly demon charges close and presses her arms against the wall, cutting my possible escape routes on either side.

“What an asshole. Enjoy the show,” she points thumbs towards herself, to where her blouse should be buttoned up for good, and I take a cowardly peek right down her splendid rack pushed upwards by the bra, “laugh what you like, and shut up. Better yet~, find your stuff and leave.”

She lets go, and for a while we’re busy dressing.

“You know-,” I start.

“No, shut up!”

“-sorry. You’re into girls, and I’m just assuming things.”

Surprisingly, she smiles.

“Silly~, I went out with a guy, even kissed him, no matter how hard it was, so appre~ciate it!”

“Well, uh, I do.”

Did she just imply what it sounded like she did?

“A… Wahaha~, you are dumb~.”

Oh, that girl! The only thing to do is swallow my pride and button up.

When it’s time to say goodbye and close the door, something warm and moist presses against my cheek for a second.

“This~ is our handshake,” Misha whispers loudly. Anyone could mistake us for a couple the way we behave.

“They’ll talk.”

“Let them, we won’t fear what Shicchan doesn’t.”

To be honest, few things can frighten during this hell of a hangover, and judging looks are off the list. I leave with head held moderately high, but to my surprise, no one giggles or spreads dirty gossip, except for Kenji in the middle in the male dorm’s hall, who quickly switches to another lecture on the horrors of feminists’ dungeons that I shrug off. One has to look really crappy to shut him up like this. The key to mass disappearance reveals itself in my room, where the clock shows half to ten. Oh well, with morning classes out of the picture, it’s high time to follow routine. Shower? Of course, it helps with head cleaning. Pills, hell yes, Misha’s first aid goes into the cocktail as well. Breakfast, oh sweet heavens, I’m so up for it if it stays inside my system. Nurse? Not so much, he knows how to push a man down the sewers with nice words, more so since I know yesterday was suicidal.

I sneak in class on break before the last period to lunch. Well, “sneak in” is a poor choice of words, as people try to hide their smiles while I stumble to my seat. So they already know, huh; only Shizune watches calmly, if with discouragement. Her desk stands out today due to a stack of thick books on it titled “Effective Planning”, “Leadership Capitalized, volume 2” and other boring stuff. In fact, it looks like she’s paying no attention to the classroom at all, because the table has exactly one study related on it, a pencil. And it’s Misha’s table, even, although this clears up when she passes me her tablet.

[Mikado will be absent until after lunch.]

Wow, no need to call her so formally the second she’s out.

[Did she say why?]

[Needed to think.]

The tablet goes back to its owner, then returns with more words.

[Thanks for the second place, but don’t repeat yesterday’s disgrace without a serious occasion. Student Council needs a clean face.]

And this is the extent of our conversation. I’d ask why she came here at all, but quickly packed books say her business here is over.

[Remind the eight-eyed papercraft team their lectures should be in the Council room by sunset,] is the last thing she shows before leaving.

Papercraft team. I can’t help but smile looking at the newspaper girls, they giggle in response. Better brace ourselves for becoming celebrities by the next Irregular issue.

One chemistry lesson later I still can’t believe that we’ve, uh… won the concert competition, yes! That’s definitely awesome, straight out of legends, made possible by Hanako’s alcohol-powered ABS. Come to think of it seriously, she did earn the closest thing to victory for us, but only got a lecture from Lilly and, judging by her absence, a hangover out of it. Don’t I feel guilty now, we should’ve thrown a celebration in her honor at least. Regardless of regrets, ecstasy remains, purely because of that achievement, of course. Shiny stairway rushes past, as does the sun flooded hallway and everyone looking for lunch. One of them gently stops me, though.

“Looking damn fine today, dude!”

“Yeah, thanks,” I wish he’d move out of the way, “every girl wants some.”

“Whatever, that every girl’s out the gates, watches Rin paint.”

“Who?”

“Josuke’s lover,” he frowns in irritation. “You’ve got no clue who she is.”

“We’ve met,” or I think so. Memory scratches at the back of my head.

“Well, gotta go. Time ain’t waiting.”

“To the Council room?” my turn to play mind reader now, big guy.

“Where else.”

There’s going to be enough gossip for months now, who did what to whom and how the council came to this.

“Dude!” he shouts as we part ways. “One last thing. Takashi’s a swell guy, but paranoid, don’t let his crap get to you. Peace.”

“Have fun, conspirators,” I mumble to his back.

Ah, hail the sun! Hail the best lamp in the world, capable of dissimilating heavy mood whenever you get one! Under this light our troubles become light and far compared to the gains. Daigo’s games worked out for the best in the end, as far as the main participants are concerned, so the big reasons to worry are all gone now. Who would’ve known that to taste life at its fullest it may be necessary to become a cripple. Ironic, huh? There, loud voices behind the fence wholeheartedly agree. There’s a piece of paper sitting in my pocket for this occasion. “Call me when you find life,” firefighter said at parting. Hah. Soon, old man, I want to hear her voice first.

On the way to the gate I meet Chiehara, who by expected coincidence is heading the same way. We don’t know each other too well, so the dialogue consists mainly of newspaper business, concert results and the Club of Men Lost to Society, the local name for guys in relationships. He assumes I’m a member, and frankly, there’s no need to correct his heavy confident speech. Word by word, we flow from Lilly’s disappointment with this year’s 3-2 acoustic performance to Naomi’s and Natsume’s conflicting orders for imagery to Rin’s attempts at gory realism. Something clicks in my head again, but I chase it away. Where’d the candy smell come from? I turn dark red at the question.

Talking gets harder the closer we get to the gates, because the noises grow louder. It’s unusual to have a crowd just outside, but if they’re admiring Rin’s art, it explains things. Josuke gets nervous when I voice my opinion and runs ahead while I laugh at his cowardice. Or that thing that sounds like cowardice for ten seconds.

The path goes along the fence richly covered with foliage, so there’s no way to see what’s going on on the other side. Squirting cucumber, someone called it, funny name. I subconsciously quicken my pace, eager to get to the archway that hides the scene from us, but the moment ex-blind photographer reaches it and turns, the change in his face pours a bucket of cold water on me. Then in a mechanic tone, strangely fitting his hoarse voice, he spells simple words.

“You best not see this.”

And with unmistakable rasp and screech the gates burst. What in heavens’ name is going on? An invalid question, as bits and pieces of words reached my ears before. “Disgrace”, “far from human”, “insult to God”. “Keep your eyes peeled,” Takashi said, and right this minute, his words sound perfectly sane. With a heavy heart, I walk the remaining meters, prepared to see Rin in the worst possible condition.

There is no Rin. In fact, few people have made it inside, despite the gates not only opened, but thrown on the ground. Some punks are holding the guards in check, several pumped men close to us are playing a game of stares with Josuke, must be their leaders. Behind the fence raves a mob of ordinary people, some armed with whatever came in handy. Maybe this is a wrong place to be right now, but something else is present, something that keeps me frozen in place.

“This one’s blind, boss.”

“No he’s not, he’s watching us. Another freak.”

They’re talking. What are they saying? I hear sounds, but not words. Words don’t assemble and remain meaningless. It’s because I finally see what’s lying there to the side, and it takes all the processing power to understand it. Eyes see, but the brain shuts it out, doesn’t want to believe, although acidic sense of horror crawls up the spine. It’s colorful, red, white, a little bit of green and pink. At some places colors overlap, staining each other. No, only red makes stains. It can be paint, it must be paint, it should be paint.

“Caesar’s to Caesar!”

“Save your humanity!”

I t ‘ s b l o o d. The world stops once it sinks in. This strangely big pile of clothes soaked in red juice was Misha just this morning. Ahaha.

Josuke’s lips start moving, very slowly. Judging by his expression, he wants to warn me to do nothing stupid, but there’s no need. In fact, I’m so calm it feels inhuman; the terror is gone, there’s no anger, only absurd humor. Maybe I’m high, that would explain the slow motion around as well. In a gracious movement like levitation my feet lift off the ground, disconnected from any sense of purpose. Instincts. Instincts let me fly. “Every human’s wings flop inside their heads.” Rin knew something, even if it was a dream.

Impact from landing runs up my body in waves, reminding that I’m on the move. Move forward. Forward is closer to these people. Trying to understand the purpose, I realize this feeling of disconnection is a completely other emotion. I’m mad. Oh boy, my blood’s boiling so hard it feels like indifference, but make no mistake, once they get in reach, someone will taste pain. My sense of time reverts to normal, although the thoughts retain their Mach speed.

“-kai!”

Too late, Chiehara. Two more steps, and my fist kisses the first ugly face. Of course, the man brushes it off momentarily, but my open left hand’s already halfway through striking his throat. His face distorts as the punch closes his airways. A crappy move from a cheap show actually buys me a second to deliver a kick to his nuts, and then by some miraculous peripheral vision register another thug coming in from the side. Instinctively, I jump behind my victim, and right that instant a fist swipes through the air with enough speed to hear it whistle. That was too close, I think, and pull on chaotic short hair right in front of me. The man falls hard, becoming an obstacle to slow the fresh one down. His head produces a cracking sound, but now’s now time to bother with it.

My fist hurts. Pain breaks through adrenaline like a hammer through mosaic in a gothic cathedral undergoing demolition. More importantly, the pain comes bundled with familiar stinging in my left arm. Nurse would say “slow your ride” or something similar, as if I was free to choose life. As if I wished for this thug charging forward with bloodied hands. Bloodied means that… Emotions wash the pain away for the instant that takes me to sidestep, only to return it amplified. Not good, a full-on heart attack will render me useless, there are several more uglies to deal with, if no one from the crowd comes to their support, that is.

And then, something like a wrecking ball hits the back of my head. The scenery jumps and hurls away, replaced by rapidly approaching dusty asphalt. Bam. Get up. Get up right this moment or get done. I can’t. It’s like that time all over again, only with merciless summer heat instead of snowflaked. Paralyzing pain and loss, these things haven’t changed at all. “Did they take your wings?” They did, but I won’t have it. Students are here for reasons beyond physical, be it simple wish to belong somewhere or an appetite for power, and there are no exceptions. I don’t know mine yet, but there definitely is one, I can feel it now. With this, I make a small miracle happen and roll to the side. The raving mob, now into view, has drawn closer, any second now it’s going to spill inside to reap what they came for. To them we’re all freaks, no matter augmented or not, and if you aren’t one, you’re a supporter who ends up like Misha, the convulsing mass in front of my eyes. Someone’s taken a hell of a debt today.

Faster. I need to get up faster. The problem is, my ears ring and eyes darken, and even if I could stand it, I can’t move a single muscle, while human shadows crawl closer. One of them holds a thing awfully akin to a tire iron.

“What is happening, Hanako?” Lilly’s anxious voice comes from far behind. “Hanako? Talk to me!”

Ikezawa screams like a military siren, like a little girl who saw twelve puppies put in a blender together. The crowd roars and steps forward. The iron’s shadow slides down. And among the acoustic chaos, one sequence stands out, light footsteps, one, another, one, another. This can’t be the end, I catch myself thinking, and promptly understand how many died with this on their mind. A sound of glass hitting the asphalt. It can’t end here, there are still things to do. Has my life gained so much altitude for this? A merciless crackle rips through the air, making the shadow shrink, but as the man behind me falls, his weapon lands straight on my ribs. Everything fades to black, and a desperate wheeze comes out. Not again. Not again. Not a

The last image imprinted in my mind is the angry crowd, so scary a minute ago, falling apart between the sirens’ wail outside and the clatter of heavy boots on the Academy territory.

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Enter your session ID: ********

Now talking in #mythbusters

<Yeti_Actual> Big_Uncle, I’ll need explanations.

<Yeti_Actual> We very nearly lost the source, what the hell are you doing?

<Yeti_Actual> Contact me.

After a critical evaluation of everything written so far, I've decided that a total rewrite rewrite of the current "Act I" cutting about 60% of its total volume (which would salvage it) was something beyond my ability. Or rather, it was beyond my ability to grit my teeth and do it. This piece of fiction can be safely considered abandoned. - July 29th, 2014,

said 651 and lied yet again. Turns out it's possible to keep writing this, although I'll be surprised if the finish line comes in sight in the next 20 years.

Honestly, I'm still surprised this chapter exists. It shouldn't. It wasn't supposed to. It had no time to be written. The following is roughly a half of it, with the rest coming up as soon as I find the time to make the last check and type it down. Which is a problem.
Now, let's recall how to break a phpBB page with words.

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Act II: Freefall.
Chapter 7. Personal Responsibility.

A passerby can easily mistake our school for a culinary one past noon thanks to the mind-melting heat. Riddle me this: a quarter into the glorious XXI century with all its nanotechnologies or what else is hot today we can’t cool the top floor to a human-friendly temperature. Just to get through the late evening now, and it’ll be over, thankfully. The dorms are colder, especially at night. Sleep-eat-study-sleep. About time I’ve gotten used to the schedule.

Forty-two days passed since the incident, as the press called it. Police came and gone like the school became their base of operations in the first days, or so people say. Myself, I enjoyed another lifetime in bed getting saved which left little time to gawk. Credit where credit’s due though, these Genetesis doctors know their deal. After bringing me back to life they threw in a bonus for my pacemaker. No idea what kind of magic happened to it, but it feels easier now at the cost of four short scars between my ribs. One of the surgeons said they swapped the battery for a modern one and lightened the whole device. How they got the latter done with only endoscopes to work with is beyond me, but falls well under the jurisdiction of “Genetesis, world leader in tomorrow’s medical solutions”. A simple mortal would have a heart attack just looking at their price list though, I’m sure.

And like that, life’s back to normal. Almost. There’s one tiny piece of the world missing, making me think a lot, like right now, after classes, like every other workday at the same time. The only difference is that today a hand with a note appears on my table. Judging from the rare ink stains and minimalistic nail care, that’d be Shizune that’s been with 3-1 today, and the rest of her body implies as well, although for a second there, I doubt if it’s really Hakamichi or an elaborate fake unable to perform her famous slam. Her note clears things up a little.

“20:30 auditorium 2nd floor. Come.”

That’s her typical order all right. Before I automatically grab the piece of paper, she picks it up and methodically tears it to little pieces. Boy, does she hate this way of communication. She even slips out of the room the second she’s done, which with her height requires dangerously wide steps. Gotta remind Daigo to lecture the girl on decency, or that dog’s never going to do it himself. Granted, he’s less of a horny prick now that society’s lost him to a woman, as Takashi loves saying. The odd part is, their relations changed little, well, publically, at least. He did join the Student Council to help her out on top of his other duties, go figure if he cares for her or not. And though Lilly acts like a mute when needed, it’s easy to guess why she gets less work than them. Not that anyone complains. Her joining at all made big news on campus. The tale goes like Satou and Hakamichi grew to hate each other’s guts as they entered the Council last year to learn the ropes, and only the upperclassmen there kept the team from splitting. Our principal got happy out of his pants, of course, since with Lilly last year’s apprentices were finally doing their job again. It was imperative to continue the line of inheritance, he said on our last meeting, and even despite a tragic loss of one of the people properly trained for the task, the rookie Hakamichi picked proved capable and worthy of a separate mention.

Ha. Of course he knew I was effectively slacking off lately, so his praise qualified more as encouragement. I just couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t keep doing the same work in the same room as… before. Couldn’t pretend that nothing changed. Really though, has it? Sure, many students have drawn their conclusions from the incident and are now acting on them, but life still goes on for almost everybody. Almost. People seem to remember each other by their accomplishments at Yamaku, not by their lost opportunities. Life isn’t cheap here, it just comes and goes faster than elsewhere. Those two guys from last year’s 2-3? My classmates still remember them, but don’t dwell. Isn’t it for the best, I ask myself. It really is. Bro shouldn’t cry when I’m gone, I’d rather see him smile looking back at the dumb stunts we’ve pulled together. I know that, but can’t let go myself. And I realize the reason somewhere at the back of my mind, but it’s very uncomfortable.
An unpleasant monotonous tune cuts my musings short. Good. The alarm function’s been my friend since I started drifting off like this. Time tends to evaporate nowadays, I mean, it’s already been an hour since our last bell. Jesus, that means more than forty minutes since Shizune’s note. Someone’s going to turn angry as all get out if I lag any more.

“Nakai,” a clear voice calls from behind the moment my feet touch the hallway floor.

Great, another setback. I keep walking.

“It is very rude to make a girl chase you. Very rude indeed.”

“I’m a gigolo like that, Satou.”

The white clad figure catches up at last. Sometimes her green skirt looks out of place between that white blouse and white stockings. Err, I mean colorwise. Any skirt would look out of place on her body.

Oh for Christ’s sake, these remarks are supposed to be a defense against excessive questions, not legitimate thoughts.

“No you are not, silly. Please be a little more serious.”

“Sorry.”

I feel like an asshole a lot lately.

“Will you be present tomorrow?”

“Yeah. Any new participants?”

“I’m afraid it will be just Hanako, yourself, and the troublesome one.”

“Shizune should show some respect, at least.”

“Oh, she’s happy enough to get me out of the council room.”

Like right now.

“Bet their productivity will break the charts this month,” I try out a little irony. Miserably, it seems, because Lilly has to stop to chuckle.

“Can you possibly be jealous, Nakai?”

“Of her? Hells yes.”

“Of course,” wait, was that a faint hint of red in her face just now? “You have become much more loutish lately, especially with your jokes.”

“Have I? Maybe it’s my norm.”

She quickly reaches down and takes my hand, sensing a right turn to a staircase ahead. An action that’d make my blood boil, maybe literally, a couple of months ago, now feels bothersome. Step. Step. Step. Satou is graceful like a European princess of old descending to the main floor of her castle to greet her guests to a ball. Wish she could look in a mirror right now. She’s probably aware though, like of many things, sometimes hard to notice with both eyes healthy.

“I know you can do better. If you keep hiding in this tough guy shell, you’ll only end up bitter. I’d rather not witness it happen again.”

“Want to travel the rest of the flight rolling?”

Too bad her chevalier’s outright subpar.

The melting track greets me with a pouty little girl’s face looking up at me.

“Remember out promise?”

“No late arrivals,” I recite as a sacred oath of some sort. “Ran here on the double.”

Emi Ibarazaki, a legless runner. Our school has a whole special category of these rule breakers, often successful due to their extreme persistence. This one’s unique in a sense. Despite her tiny frame and often childish attitude, she somehow manages to make me work out without any visible effort on her side. We must be kindred spirits or something. Pfft.

“Okay, you did,” she notices sweat streaming down my face. “Which means more stretching for you! Don’t you dare strain yourself with that faulty heart.”

“Lordy, can’t I get more distance instead?”

“No.”

She knows damn well I hate stretching, and that I’ll do all of it.

Just like that, our training session begins, with no chat nor extra words at all. Maybe this false sense of solitude was the reason why I left Miki’s guidance. Her group meant listening to her and Molly talk all the time, and while it would be bearable by itself (hell, I had no problems with it on my first week here), they tried to fix me. To their honor, they tried smart and hard. Only it never worked and they never stopped. Ah, what’s the use of lying to myself, I just couldn’t take missing her. Others had little to do with the problem.

Emi patiently waits for me to finish my exercises, including the penalty she issues as laconically as possible. Sixty seconds to catch a breath, and off we go on her mark. My program for today: run a kilometer, walk a half, repeat until in Time’s 100. Her program: too worn out to care under this sun burning like a meteor in the atmosphere. Probably some superhuman training again. If she’s number one in the school with her height and no legs, well, can’t call it any other name.

So yeah, I started slacking off back then, and no one said a word out of pity. Without running, without the Council I was just killing days staring into empty space, until one particularly bad evening chance took me to the track for some reason. Can I join? Yes. And I was back on track. Lap after lap, pointless motion felt more like the same old staring, if a lot more efficient at time consumption. The nurse never complained, although he probably intended to couple us from the beginning. There were some implications.

Now we’re walking away from the track together in silence, like best buds who have long exhausted the daily quota of casual conversation. Easy Friendsmaking 101, Loneliness & Luck Edition.

“Why’d you join me?” she asks out of nowhere, making me start.

“I thought we didn’t talk.”

“I thought some Shizune rubbed off on you.”

“Hah,” it’s funny because she loves talking. Poor Daigo the interpreter.

“So?”

“So what?”

“Don’t ‘hah’ me.”

“I wanted to run.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Miki.”

“I wanted to run with the best.”

“Wrong.”

“Are you sure?”

“Too weak.”

“Maybe it pleased my ego.”

“Running with that cuckoo with no friends.”

“Oh come on, you have to have a load of friends and a truck of guys after you with this pretty face.”

“That’s what they always say.”

“And?”

She just shrugs.

“I run.”

“See, there’s your problem.”

“How about yours?”

“Will you leave it be?”

She usually takes hints pretty well, I swear.

“No.”

“Okay,” I exhale, “here’s your precious answer. The others asked too many questions.”

“Now I do. Will you quit again?”

“Yes,” if this goes on like with Miki, I damn right will.

“Lies.”

My initial shock over her cockiness gives way to a surprised realization of how right she is. I could laugh, but then I’d be the cuckoo.

“All right, another ans- wait, no, how did you guess- actually, why are we even having this conversation?”

If I’m still not crazy for being so upset, of course.

“Because I saw your face at the start line today.”

What.

“It was a familiar one,” she continues. “Wanna see?”

“Show me.”

Her happy smile lasts a few short moments. Can’t honestly call something that leaves the eyes relaxed a smile though. Another second, and she throws her head back to display what she means.

I don’t understand. This is her own regular starting expression, with the trademark predatory grin present, eyebrows slightly raised, and emerald eyes wide open. On a proper inspection, there’s something I’ve never noticed before. Never been a face reader, but it’s like she’s somewhere between lost, scared and confused, and maybe something else not quite defined.

“Ey, kiss already!”

That’s what we get for staring at each other like wild cats in the soft rays of the dying sun this close to the dorms. I turn around and scare the underclassman away with a single look; kind of mastered the art lately. Then it hits me.

“Yes, just like the face you made right now,” Emi’s animal grin has somehow turned into a victorious one without changing shape by the time I look back at her. “I see it in the mirror every morning.”

“The hell does my face have to do with anything?”

“I can read this one like a book. It’s a face of someone running away.”

Oh Lord Jesus On A Stick.

“You guys conspired to gang up on me with your lectures today.”

“Hey, I’m just saying. No need to get your nuts rustled.”

“Innocent little girl, anyone?” I make a weak attempt to derail the conversation.

“Listen. ‘away’ is no destination. This road leads nowhere.”

“Does it really? If Misha’s our topic, then get to it already.”

“You want it straight,” Emi clarifies for whatever reason.

“Sure as hell do.”

“Okay. I had two girls I could call friends at Yamaku. Now there’s one.”

Wait. Damn, should’ve noticed their cheerful run-ins like at the festival.

“Sorry, didn’t mean rea-”

“Doesn’t matter,” she waves it off. “I’ll need one thing from you.”

“As long as it’s legal.”

You go boy, that was the perfect moment for the perfect joke. Shameful.

“Don’t become me. For Misha. Pro-,” her voice breaks off for a second, contrasting the everyday smile of a face, “promise?”

You can hear the sun crackling in the dead silence that follows.

“Sounds difficult.”

“No shit.”

“I was at fault too, you know,” I try to explain softly.

“Still clinging to the most retarded sentence of the year like a prayer, I see. No one could change what happened, period. You almost died trying.”

If she only knew the weight I carry. She never will, of course, so there needs to be a little lie on top of all honesty.

“I’ll think about it.”

“You do. She’d want you to.”

She would. We enter the nurses’ hallway silent once again, one little bit closer to best friends.

The man calls her first, breaking the routine. She finishes pretty soon, at least, and the end of their chat leaks through the door as she leaves.

“I said you’re free, no butts,” that’s his voice.

“Any other girl would be afraid of you giving Nakai seduction lessons in private.”

“Good thing there exists a fearless one.”

“Your vibes wouldn’t work on a pig, old man.”

“Worked on your mom.”

A smiling little girl lights the hall up with her presence after a ringing high-five.

“Bye-bye!” she yells running out of the building, back in kid mode once more. A fine actress in the making.

“Come in, come in,” Nurse calls. Man, why do we get so little time to relax in the nice cool air of the basement floor?

“Close the door,” he asks plainly.

The examination starts out cold, missing his usual failed puns and friendly attitude. He also puts a lot of effort into keeping both eyes open, which requires enough mimic tension to make him look a decade older. If this is about what I think it is, then good bloody timing, I’ve almost started worrying.

“Heartbeat as good as it gets, pressure a little higher than desirable,” he voices his conclusions over.

“We had a little argument on our way back.”

“Is that so.”

He makes a remark in the journal, then quickly checks if anyone’s out in the hallway. Click, the door secures our privacy.

“Hisao Nakai, 3-3, QT stndrome,” the cat lover starts.

“That’s me.”

“Our ginger friend sent you a present,” he reaches far into the desk.

“Not a moment too late, right?”

“Give me a break, they only finished this morning.”

“Could’ve sent a word. I understand, I really do, just put yourself into my shoes here,” I counter his objection. “I’m human, too.”

The item he’s been searching for, a black plastic card with a stylized silver DNA fragment, Genetesis logo, finally appears on the table.

“Of course. Of course you are. Just try and understand that everybody else is. You think I’m not nervous?” he raises his voice.

“They told you the results, so you’ve got no reason to be.”

“Told me what? They never tell me a thing! Hisao, leaks are against the regulations. I get worked up to hell over the trivial instances because of the secrecy, now imagine how I should feel about this. This is big.”

“No kidding,” I snort reflexively. “They said history was happening.”

“Indeed, more than you understand. If they succeed, that is.”

“They wouldn’t start without a hope.”

“Like every other time. Hope’s too little in our business, Hisao.”

“Just pass me the key already.”

Nurse sighs and strokes his little finger.

“Are you completely sure, Nakai?”

“Didn’t start this whole mess to back out the last second.”

“Remember, every time you doubt yourself, I will doubt you twice.”

“I’d like to see you try,” I retort, taking the card and turning away to leave.

“Easy enough, having seen this all a couple of times. It always starts with hope.”

Even as I leave, the Nurse drops another line.

“You started nothing, Nakai!”

Maybe he’s right. Maybe what I pride and curse myself for isn’t my choice, but the truth is that I need this piece of plastic, and any made up justification to get it will do.

Nice to have you back, I'm sure Mirage_GSM will be along soon to point out the typos.

Actually I kinda stopped reading this story around the time of my last post in this thread, which was... almost two years ago.
The reasons are pretty much the contents of said last post. I simply didn't have the slightest idea what was happening anymore.

brythain wrote:Nice to have you back, I'm sure Mirage_GSM will be along soon to point out the typos.

I'm quite sure he's long since given up on-

Mirage_GSM wrote:Actually I kind stopped reading this story

Yup. Pretty sure every reader shares his sentiment.

Here goes the second half.

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Somewhere far away in the mountains, the silence is heavy like a forging press tonight. Not an insect dares to pierce the chill air with its ever-cheerful screech under the black star-laden sky, not a wind makes a noise in the grass. The closest road sees no drivers. One of those nights, you know.

Yet serious businessmen find regular serenity treacherous. In a meeting room underground, protected by their own sound dampening devices, private guards and rusted barbwire around a decommissioned airstrip up above, they discuss matters few outside their company should know with no protocol.

“Last but not least, the Ariadna program is live once again with one unit hopefully operational this week and another one underway, ETA 2-3 months depending on the circumstances R&D has no power over. This is my part for today, gentlemen.”

The wealthy looking young man sits down under judgmental looks from the others at the round table. After a while of uneasy suit rustling, a squat guy stands up.

“With all due respect to our promising colleague, a meeting to effectively tell us about one program’s progress sounds like an overkill.”

“Are you not happy to meet up with your family, son?” an old man replies from across the room. His seat, as always, has the gravity of the center of the room, despite looking just like any other one. What makes it into an extraordinary one is the overwhelming respect the man reads in the attendees’ eyes.

“I wouldn’t dream of such insolence, master.”

“We understand the accounting’s worries, make no mistake. Answer me now, did we not swear to see our plans throughout together?”

“We did.”

“Did all of us not swear to fully dedicate ourselves to the purpose?”

“We did,” the short man takes his public shaming resignedly.

“Then you must understand that now is the time for unity instead of petty squabbles. Sit. We will personally ensure that the company receives an appropriate amount of monetary support this month. Deficits will not be reached.”

The old man carefully checks his neighbors’ faces while the fatso sits down, visibly pleased.

“Now that we have the instruments needed to create the necessary distraction, let’s move on to other matters. What does our head of security have to say about the circumstances R&D has mentioned?”

“Father,” the unremarkable man stands up momentarily, “some of Yamaku’s more influential ‘patrons’ have taken an interest in the investigation concerning the recent local developments.”

“Will they start pulling their kids out?”

“Highly unlikely,” a slant smile crosses his face. “Police will calm them down on the ministry level. The kids, on the other hand, are reacting in a way exploitable to Ariadna’s benefit if used wisely. I assume R&D’s capabilities are ready for unexpected breakthroughs, of course.

“It is, but an early start can deny us an opportunity to use the first unit’s data for improvements,” young researcher replies from his seat.

“The timing will be discussed elsewhen, children. Anything else our security has to report?”

“UN an NATO negotiations have been a success so far.They require several months to prepare their troops. Planning and paperwork will take less. Your connections will not be required.”

“Very refreshing to hear at the end of a long day.”

“Also, we have all but confirmed that Dyson’s monitoring team at Yamaku has not been evacuated, but replaced with competent professionals. The former one has been sighted in Tokyo.”

“So he knows where to look now. He better like theatres.”


***

I praise whatever’s governing the storms up in the sky for today’s cool, almost cold night before entering the building. The stars, those frequent breaches in the worn black blanket spread over heavens, blink one last time, surrendering their place to a black ceiling. Looks like exactly zero lights are on on the entire floor.

“Lock the door, quick.” a whisper comes from behind me along with immediate clanking.

“Hey guys, what’s goinmmm!”

Somebody puts a hand over my mouth, another pair secures mine behind my back with a grip of steel. What the hell kind of business did Shizune drag me into?! I really don’t need to die tonight, oh no I don’t. The person right behind starts pushing, and from the soft sensation on my elbows and ribs I take a wild guess it’s the vulture herself.

“Take a right, dude,” the whisper sounds yet again, now from the side, as we stumble forward.

Okay, so the stallion’s in on the assault too, say what. I feel my unsteady heartbeat ruse from fear. It’s going to be hilarious if I die from an attack before they intend me to. Yeah, fucking funny as shit. Why today, for chrissakes, why does it have to be today out of all days?

“Stairs ahead.”

Stairs, of course, we made a deal to meet a floor above, haha. Here’s one. Here’s another-woah there, easy on the tripping, stair, can’t see you in the dark. Let it be an idiotic prank, oh please let it be one.

We somehow immediately enter the announcer’s booth, and the bright light makes me squint. Looks like I logged out for a minute on the stairs, whoa.

“Were I religious, I’d call you a ghost,” says a voice like Josuke’s.

Frankly, he must be right.

“Talking’s allowed, by the way.”

I find my mouth free in a moment; Hakamichi steps away as well. As my vision clears up, I realize there’s a single bulb lit up in the whole room, even though it feels like twenty. The whole band appears before my eyes at last, seated at the table some of us drank at so long ago. Maeda and the sunglasses guy avoid my stare.

“Hi”, Daigo voices his shorter half, who would explode with laughter if she could, by the looks of it. I want to hit her sometimes. Like eighty percent of the time.

“Hi yourself, bitch, you damn near sent me to the hospital again.”

“That’s a rude thing to say to a lady. Dude, you all right? Dude?”

Perfect time to notice they did something dangerous. Both should consider a police career. My heart catches up with the events, sending a fiery steel spike down my spine. At least the pain’s better than it was before Genetesis’ intervention.

“A-Ok, joker.”

Shizune signs something with a slightly more concerned look and gets a smack on the back of the head for an answer. Of course, Daigo receives an immediate punch to the kidneys. These two will make an exemplary family one day.

Parting myself from the wall and finding my way to an empty seat proves to be a challenge. Even the best tech in the world is powerless against the state of semi-paralysis at times like this. The first curse escapes my teeth only halfway through, a fact that wins a regional competition in stoicism if there is one.

“Seriously, should we call a doctor?”

How stupid can one man be, again?

“Call yourself a psychiatrist, yeah.”

“Told you it was a bad idea,” Takeshi remarks moodily.

“That’s rich coming from the first accomplice.”

“The main asshole gets an excuse.”

Blessed be the reliable solidity of a chair.

“Let’s get this over with,” I invite, feeling a bit friendlier, “I don’t have all night.”

“Agreed. Rin needs a visit before the curfew too,” Chiehara’s harsh voice sounds for the second time this damned evening.

“Can’t it wait until midnight, you crazy beasts?”

“A call to Ghostbusters can’t. We are extremely concerned about the supernatural activity at the Student Council.”

Not every day Shizune gets shut up like this.

“About that,” I interject before the conversation sinks any deeper in the toilet, “I’ll need the key tonight.”

Four heads turn my way.

“What? Can’t a man use it for some thinking once in a while?”

“Sure you can, it’s just been a while since you’ve talked about anything Council. Right, Shizune?”

The four-eyes slides the keys across the table drilling me with a refracted stare so hard it’ll leave a hole.

“Tell her she can keep watch at the door,” I spit out.

Of course she will still suspect me of every mortal sin possible, but won’t spy, at least.

“If the catfight’s over, let’s talk business,” Maeda proposes, obviously bored.

“Right. Look, Hisao, we spent some time thinking about what happened a month ago and what it brought to us. Some changes speak for themselves, some aren’t as obvious, and it just so happens that me and Shizune have some to a more detailed picture.”

3-1 rep keeps looking at the girl throughout his speech. If there’s anything I dislike the most about Daigo the interpreter, it’s this weird mode where it’s near impossible to tell their words apart.

“Okay, I’m all ears.”

“Long story short, the official investigation came to a stall.”

I can only smile at his big revelation.

“What’s so funny?”

“See, this here brokenhearted martyr already knows half of your speech,” little Van Gogh wannabe states it simply. “Short story shorter, your mad revenge ideas got us after you’d grown out of them. We’ll dig around and see if there’s any way to aid the police.”

“Oh come on, dude,” Daigo reacts to my smile turning bitter, “you went farther down the road.”

“Wanted to go, never went. We can’t influence serious affairs through any means.”

“That’s why my and her families joined in.”

Now that’s news.

“I see how a publisher can help, but what does her old man do?”

“He’s an… honest businessman,” the awkward pause travels from Hakamichi’s signs to Kurosaki’s voice.

“Businessman my ass.”

“This again, Takashi?”

“In any case, I’m staying out of this five-dollar teenage detective story,” I end another potential off-topic argument.

A split couple of seconds of silence ensue, filled with more search for the right words to say than surprise, judging by the guys’ faces. Maeda takes the lead again.

“Knew you wouldn’t support funny business right off the bat. We’re here mostly to inform though. Reps will work with their resources, I’ll hang around in town and listen, so should anything happen, you know the reason.”

“And that’s what all the secret meeting with the lights off fluff was for?”

“Correct.”

“You’re out of your minds.”

“Thanks, knew that much.”

“So what’s Chiehara’s role?”

“Muscle if they need some,” he answers himself.

Another awkward pause.

“Yeah, dud, so that’s pretty much it. We’ll keep you posted,” Daigo summarizes.

“Had to risk my health for the sake of conspiracy, eh?”

“Stress poses no trouble compared to your stunts at the track.”

“Certainly less trouble than your schemes. Whoever planned an attack on Genetesis, a monopoly in a 120 million strong country, must be either really smart or retarded. Both options are dangerous.”

“Don’t sweat, we know. Just hit us up if you learn anything, aight?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Sweet.”

We spend more time talking about this and that, and I can’t shake the feeling that someone should stop them. The sheer level of public reaction and media coverage has made a riot in a small town a political matter long ago, if it wasn’t one at the beginning. Similar protests rose in a few cities in the West, Humanity Front gained quite some publicity and even a counterpart called Progressive Evolution or something like that. The police can’t finish their investigation without risking an uprising from of the sides of this conflict that waited for any excuse to blow up. Now politicians and CEOs need to solve it, and where those get involved, ordinary citizens should flee for their own good. Last I checked, I was an ordinary citizen.

We finally shake hands and leave. Cool evening air calms me down somewhat, but not enough to wash the worries away. I can only hope their parents understand what kind of game they’re playing, because it sounds like my friends themselves don’t. In nine chances out of ten though, Yamaku Administration will take action before anything goes wrong. We’ve got surveillance everywhere, after all, may as well put it to good use.

I sneak into the main building through an emergency exit, cameras be damned. It only matters if people see me. A few lit up windows indicate supplementary lessons in progress and clubs working overtime, all easily avoidable by a side staircase, usually empty at this hour. On the third floor, high on luck and out of breath, I hastily enter the Council room, turn the lights on, and leave, locking the door behind me.

Alibi status: forged. The way back downstairs can’t possible feel longer, because this time I’m using the main staircase. Thankfully, no one’s leaving right now by some miracle, and the security guys, two instead of one last month, face outside. Thanks to whoever manages heavens up there.

There’s something like a closet under the staircase, some space secured with walls along both railings, and what looks like a sliding door painted over many times in the middle. It’s difficult to say for sure, since no one’s ever seen it open, or so the belief goes, but the consensus among the students is that there’s an old service elevator to the basement there, powered down and put out of commission. A solid theory, considering how close it lies to the truth.

I press the card from Nurse into a slightly elevated square of the wall where, according to the theory, the call button once was, and our dead elevator proves to be perfectly operable in a second. A weird one it is, sure, but nothing regular will get me where needed.

“Close Sesame,” I whisper. It closes with an ever so quiet beep. Look, everybody, Nakai’s a poser.

Concrete painted faux wood on the outside to fit the staircase, a box of glass and stainless steel on the inside. The elevator feels as alien as the hospital at first, which makes sense, but doesn’t calm any nerves. I place my fingers on the sensor pad where the buttons would usually be. It displays buttons all right for Genetesis staff, while people with one-time passes get launched to their designated floor after a fingerprints check. Tonight the screen displays “-9”. Gravity takes a dive for a moment, which dinner takes to rise up to my throat. Yeah, screw you too, food. At least it settles back down when we stop.

I strongly dislike two entities in this life, Hospital and Uncertainty, and am heading, as of now, under a sign stating “Floor 9 – Post-Surgical Treatment” into a corridor full of blurry expectations. To no one’s surprise, this section is short and empty compared to other floors. Out of all the people that filled the augmentation forms in during the last month, few have their body parts ready for surgery by now, and even fewer will ever undergo anything major enough to warrant any time in this wing, waiting in deep chemical sleep for their metabolism to normalize. Makes me wonder more about-

“This way, Hisao!”

Seeing Martin’s careless smile eases my mind a little. It means there is few bad news. It means everything went as close to okay as it could. It means I can run down the rest of this hallway to room 1 that lies at the very end of it for some reason, run just as carelessly and full of hope.

“Is it really allowed to come to this level in dirty shoes, Marty?” I put little thought into the question.

“Of course, stupid. Trust the professionals.”

He’s still smiling, God bless.

“Hi. Hello. Good evening.”

Doc’s progress in Japanese must’ve been grand enough if he can determine a whole list of hails appropriate for the situation. Seriously, he can be Marty’s superior and a top-class medic all he wants, but talking English only isn’t cool enough in our country.

“Good evening, Mr. Hayes.”

“Just Irving from now on, please.”

Our handshake feels heavy as ever. Doc’s seen action as a combat medic somewhere between the start of his career as a neurosurgeon and today, and it shows. Burly, especially for his modest height, he gives off an impression he won’t fit into the next doorway that’s twice his width. Wouldn’t want to ask a man like that how he went from a promising specialty to active service, would you?

“Is everything in order?” I summon every last drop of my English knowledge to confirm.

“A grade wonderful. Come with us, if you will.”

No door troubles in his own domain, mind you. We pass deeper into the light-green room 1 through a thin partition.

“Is this..?

“Yes,” Marty softly pats my shoulder, “but we have to go over important details first.”

Kneeling at the only object in the bare cube of a room, I try to guess its looks and function. Less than a meter wide, roughly two meters long, height unknown due to a layer of fabric hanging down to the floor from it. Shape’s so unique I’d easily call it a casket under other circumstances. The younger guy starts explaining in a quiet voice.

“You must be full of happiness right now.”

“Not a question, really.”

“Understandable. Today is a very important day for you and the whole academy, regardless if they know it or not. However, keep in mind that we here are no magicians yet. First time you pull the drape down can feel shocking.”

“Can’t be worse than earlier this month,” I feel euphoria evaporate with every word. “I voted for this to happen, too. Now way it’ll scare me now.”

Marty lets out a sigh of defeat.

“Doc said to warn you, I did. He also said the weight of choice wouldn’t help. I’ve never been in your shoes, let’s be honest. My whole adult life I’ve been studying or working in medicine, and people become desensitized to some things in our line of work. Doc, however, he’s seen a lot more than both of us together. Listen to his advice, please.”

Satisfied with my silence, he turns to his superior.

“I’ve done my job.”

“I’ll get the lights.”

One voice sounds in the ensuing darkness disturbed only by the dim light coming from the object, and I’m surprised to realize it’s my own.

“May I?”

“Go ahead”, Hayes allows with a terrible accent.

A moment of hesitation passes, and I pull the cloth off in one go. There she lies, enveloped by life support and power cords, protected from the outside atmosphere by an airtight glass case that really looks like a casket. She may have lost her curls and a few centimeters in all measurements, she may look like a robot more than a girl, doesn’t matter, she’s still the same classmate I spent that first week with and couldn’t leave alone after the incident.

“We tried to preserve as much as we could, but with that kind of injuries you have to choose what to save quickly,” Martin speaks up again, but I can barely hear him.

I know everything he has to say. They tried to save her. They couldn’t save all of her. They had to choose between her death and insane, unprecedented amounts of augmentation. They had had to decide on an official stance before the parents arrived, and the guy that cared a lot about her felt like the right person to ask what she’d herself want.

My words didn’t matter that much, most likely, but I can’t shake the feeling of responsibility for my selfish intent back then. Or my responsibility for what Misha has become, for that matter. Hayes was right, I’m not ready for this, so why can’t I stop staring, mesmerised by the imitated muscles like I was once captured by Molly's? Meers’ explanations sound fuzzy and the glowing glass cage starts blurring. I don’t really remember much after that up until turning the lights off in the Council room. Right, the Council is trying to dig up anything to prevent another attack from happening. Maybe I can help, after all. For her. This won’t be a game though, so the only student involved should be myself. I can handle this much.

After the familiar system messages all appear on my tablet, I send a message to a certain user.

<HNK> Phoenix, I need a favor.