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almondinflowerDisclaimer: Characters, rights, and most of the cool stuff belongs to Konomi.
Genre: SF AU
Notes: Chapter 4, after something like a three-year hiatus. I almost want to apologise for the prose, but uh, there is at least plot, and even more cliffhangers?
The prequel and first three chapters can be found here.
“Kabaji.”
There was no reply. Keigo's fingers closed around the doorknob, but didn't turn it. “Kabaji. Are you there?”
“Usu.”
He whirled around. Kabaji stood by the tinted bay window just outside Shishido's room, holding a brown paper package in his right hand. Keigo took a slow breath.
“Where have you been? I haven't seen you since yesterday morning.”
Kabaji bowed his head once, his face expressionless as ever. Knowing Kabaji, that would be all Keigo was going to get in the way of explanation. He let go of the doorknob. “Never mind. It doesn't matter. Have you heard from the others what's been going on?”
“Usu.”
“Kotoha. The girl we used to know, from back – from back then. She's dead.” The words felt strange on his tongue: surreal, like the first time he saw a boy his own age die. Like the first time he'd killed someone. “You remember her, right? I used to say she looked like a spoiled kitten.”
He looked down the corridor. It was empty, but Keigo had been a squadron leader himself less than three years ago, occupying the room that now belonged to Oshitari. He knew how well sound carried on this floor. “Can you get us something to eat and meet me in my rooms in ten minutes?”
The other boy bowed again, then turned and walked down the corridor – perfectly silent as usual. It was a shame, Keigo thought. Kabaji would have made the perfect spy, if he weren't so conspicuous-looking.
He was not, however, so discreet that Keigo shouldn't be able to notice his presence when he was standing less than two metres away.
I'm getting careless. Sakaki would say something about needing to keep his emotions under control. Sakaki. He would be here tonight to to discuss the results of the dicussions with Jyousei Shounan.
He took the elevator upstairs to his rooms, which had initially formed part of the penthouse apartment. Increasing space constraints had necessitated renovations, and by the time Keigo had joined the syndicate the president's rooms consisted only of a master bedroom with ensuite, a small kitchenette and dining area, and a sitting room that Keigo had lined with bookcases when he moved in. The other half of the former penthouse comprised the executive meeting room as well as Keigo's study, plus a computer room with two neural link chairs for emergency VR access.
Hyoutei was prosperous for a runner syndicate; indeed, it was prosperous by any standards, except perhaps the ones that Keigo had grown up with. The lack of luxury didn't matter too much to Keigo, although Sakaki sometimes seemed to believe that it did.
He placed a thumb on the fingerprint sensor beside his front door and waited for the click before pushing the door open. Inside, the sitting room had that air of unnatural tidiness that indicated the cleaners had been in this morning. Keigo walked straight into the kitchen to pour himself a glass of mineral water, and then activated the music system while he settled down on a couch to wait for Kabaji. The opening strains of Tristan und Isolde came drifting through the speakers located in each corner of the ceiling, causing him to close his eyes. How long had it been since he'd had a chance to go to the opera?
Perhaps he did miss the luxury, sometimes, although classical music was not one of the luxuries he'd appreciated when it was within easy reach. It was Sakaki who had taught him to love Wagner.
The doorbell rang. “You can come in, Kabaji; I didn't lock the door.”
Kabaji was carrying a tray of meatballs and sweet chilli sauce when he came in; the kitchen staff always kept some snacks available for the boys. Keigo sometimes wondered if they prepared them especially for Ohtori and Hiyoshi, who for whatever reason were favourites with the ancillary staff.
“Sit down. Would you like something to drink? There's a half-finished bottle of Shiraz in the fridge; help yourself whenever you want.”
Kabaji placed the tray on the coffee table and sat down down in the couch opposite Keigo's. There was a tension in his the line of his shoulders, Keigo noticed, that he had learned early on to associate with something bothering Kabaji. (Being Kabaji's friend for ten years was something like a degree in non-verbal communication in itself.)
“Mizuki Hajime killed her.” He picked up a toothpick from the tray and speared a meatball. “That's why Akazawa visited the border of our territory last night; Mizuki tried to hide the body there, and Akazawa became suspicious. Do you know Akazawa was dating Kotoha?” He bit into the meatball; it was flavoured with cumin and sesame seeds. "Akazawa took revenge for her today. I would have done it, if he hadn't. I believe I owe her that much.” Perhaps he owed the past that much.
“Usu.” More in a neutral tone than in an affirmative one, though.
“Kabaji. Do you ever wish you could be back--” Home, he'd been about to say, but it would be a false word. Hyoutei was home now, for Kabaji as much as for Keigo. “It may come to that, if Seigaku continues with their plans to integrate with the police force.” Even as he said it, the ridiculousness of the idea occurred to him. Could he go home, even if that turned out to be the best option? It would not be such a problem for Kabaji – as far as Keigo knew, he had parted with his relatives on civil, if not amiable terms. Even if the converse had been true and he had left his family under the worst possible circumstances, it didn't change the fact that he was the sole male heir.
Keigo, on the other hand--
No. I'm sure that I'm indispensable to the old man, no matter how many genetics experiments he's attempted in the interim. It was far more likely that Keigo's identity would be exposed, and that he would be forced to return. Inoue Mamoru had the best intelligence network in Nippon. And if Seigaku chose to break the unwritten runner's code of secrecy and reveal what they knew about the Hyoutei runners...
In fact, it would be safer to assume that they already had broken confidentiality, even if it didn't exactly fit with what he knew about Tezuka Kunimitsu.
“Kabaji.” The change in Keigo's tone seemed to have surprised the other boy, whose eyes held a questioning look. “Effective from tonight I'm ordering red-level security throughout all Hyoutei reputations. The shipment to the Bundesrepublik has to be sent tonight, and all other runs are to be placed on hold. I don't want anything illegal worth more than ten thousand dollars here in our territory.” He pulled out his infodevice and began tapping out a message to the other squadron leaders. “I'm not sure what's happening with Seigaku, but we should assume the worst for now. The rest...well, Sakaki may debrief us tonight.”
Kabaji nodded. He was fingering the brown paper package in his hand: an odd tic for Kabaji. Keigo frowned. “Is that package for me?” he asked. “Who is it from?”
Kabaji shrugged and held it out to Keigo, who took it and peeled off the brown paper.
Inside was another layer of wrapping, this time in silver tissue paper. The blue wave-shaped emblem stuck to one corner caught Keigo's attention. His eyes narrowed.
“The Rising Sea? Rikkai again?” He found the edge of the silver paper, and tore. The object inside was small, hard, and cool to the touch; he let the bits of crumpled paper fall to the floor as he pulled it out to have a look.
It was a flower made of crystal, sixteen-petalled, about the size of a child's hand. Keigo held it up to have a closer look; when placed near the light, it glowed with the colour of broken rainbows.
An ice chrysanthemum? For the second time today, he felt completely paralysed.
They know.
#
He'd sent Kabaji away soon after that, and messaged Sakaki to let him know that he would be in VR for the next couple of hours: Let me know when you're here and I'll come out as soon as possible. For this particular investigation he'd chosen to use the computer room adjacent to his study; it was less convenient to use than the setup they had in the basement, but considerably more private.
He sat on one of the neural link chairs and parted the hairs at the back of his head, plugging link cables into the entry points that communicated with his cerebral cortex, cerebellum, and midbrain. Keigo had six ports into his central nervous system, which was twice as many as were usually installed; it was unusual, however, for him to use more than three.
He logged on; the world turned into grey space and a series of menus. Where to from here? The Tennis Hub would be the most likely spot, he supposed.
The main forum of the Tennis Hub today took the form of a set of street tennis courts set in Old Earth Japan. Not an infrequent incarnation; Keigo himself had 'played tennis' on these courts quite a few times, most frequently with runners from Seigaku and Fudoumine.
It was also where he'd met Tachibana Kippei's sister An, one of the more competent female runners in Tokyo. And also pretty, if her avatar bore any resemblance to her true physical appearance.
There were about two dozen avatars here today, but no one of interest that he could identify. It was possible, of course, that they were using a pseudonym like he was.
Only two people known to frequent the Tennis Hub were in the position to recognise Keigo's identity from the username Tannhäuser, and either of those two people would be able to lead him to the person he truly wanted to see.
As it turned out, the username was moot within five minutes, when he spotted Akutagawa Jirou in one of the subforums. The forum was depicted as a twenty-first-century Pocky store; the Second Squadron leader was sitting in a corner, stacking boxes of virtual Pocky on top of each other: milk, chocolate, strawberry, milk, chocolate, strawberry...
Keigo reached out and tapped Jirou's avatar on the shoulder.
Jirou looked up. “Ehh, it's you!” he said, springing to his feet. “What are you doing here?”
Keigo rolled his eyes. “Open up a private room. I need to talk to you.”
“Sure!” Almost instantly, the landscape shifted around them; suddenly they were standing on a bridge beneath a blue sky, surrounded by a pine forest. Keigo looked down, and then wished he hadn't; the ravine below was dizzyingly realistic. It was a feat worthy of Hyoutei's best VR manipulator, although Keigo wished that his VR tricks were slightly more... useful.
“Why are you still here?” he asked. “I told Ohtori to wake you up two hours ago.”
“Yeah, he came!” Jirou was bouncing up and down. “I told him I had to stay.”
“Jirou, that wasn't a nice suggestion from Ohtori. That was an order from me.” Even if it might be working out to his convenience now. “What made you think you could go against my instructions?”
Jirou looked crestfallen. “Ahh, I'm sorry. But it was important, honest, Atobe! Bunta-kun said I had to stick around.”
“Marui Bunta said? So you're taking orders from Rikkai now, are you?”
Jirou had flopped onto the ground (well, the bridge), his legs spread out, propping his back into a sitting position with his outstretched hands. “He said Yukimura wanted to see you, so I had to wait here since I'm the only one who wasn't using a pseudonym. He said you would definitely come, and I was to take you to see them. So that's why I'm here. I'm really sorry, Atobe.” He clambered to a standing position. “Atobe? Are you all right?”
Am I just being manipulated by them? Is that it? He placed a hand across his face. I'll see Rikkai destroyed before that happens.
“Atobe?”
He blinked. Jirou's avatar was waving his fingers in front of Keigo's eyes. “Are you okay, Atobe?”
Whatever the circumstances, even if I'm being manipulated, I have to meet him now. There's no other alternative.
“I'm okay, Jirou. Take me to see Rikkai,” he ordered. “Now.”
#
VR meetings with Sanada had always invariably taken place in the setting of a kendo dojo, except for once, when Keigo had grown tired of the monotony and transformed the area into the throneroom from Neuschwanstein. Today, however, Sanada was standing in a wide, formal garden in the European style, filled with classical sculptures.
Sanada bowed. His avatar, as far as Keigo knew, was almost an exact replica of his physical appearance, down to the Japanese sword he wore at his waist. (His swordmanship was as legendary in the VR context as it was in real life.) But it was the figure standing at Sanada's side that drew Keigo's attention.
“Atobe Keigo. It's so good to meet you at last.”
Yukimura's avatar was well-known to all runners. Keigo had never personally seen it, despite numerous written communications with the man (or woman or child, or whatever Yukimura was); however, Jirou, Kabaji and Oshitari had all met him online before, and there was general agreement as to the details: Yukimura always appeared as an androgynous, strikingly beautiful child, with eyes and hair the colour of the sea.
The slim young man standing on the garden path was neither androgynous nor a child; in fact, he was about Keigo and Sanada's age. Strikingly beautiful – yes, Keigo would concede that.
“You're the one who called this meeting,” he said. “I'd like to get down to business as soon as possible.”
Yukimura inclined his head. “Certainly. I think it would be best if we continued the conversation alone. My apologies to the two of you.” He nodded at Sanada, and then at Jirou, before waving his hand; the other two avatars disappeared instantly.
Keigo couldn't help rather liking Yukimura. It was difficult not to appreciate someone with that much style.
He said, “I think we have two things to talk about: one, the current imbalances among the Kantou syndicates; two, how you found out about my old identity. And what you plan to do about it.”
A garden bench appeared alongside the path. “Would you like to sit down? I think this will be a reasonably lengthy conversation.”
“Thanks, but I'm all right. I never saw the need for excessive verisimilitude in VR settings.”
“Yes, you're quite grounded in reality, aren't you. How strange for an Ancient Studies expert.” Yukimura sat down. “I too, agree that we have only two things to talk about. Tezuka Kunimitsu, and Atobe Keigo. I'd like to talk about St. Rudolph as well, but it's rather too late for words on that subject now, or so Niou assures me.”
Now that Yukimura had taken a seat, Atobe found himself uneasy with their relative positions. Was Yukimura's sense of superiority so marked that he had no problem sitting down in front of a president from a rival syndicate? Even if it was VR.
Still, it was too late to do anything about that now. Again? So this is what it's like, dealing with a truly powerful precognitive. “Tezuka Kunimitsu. The man at the heart of all this.”
“No. Tezuka Kunimitsu is the shadow at the heart of all this, but there is someone casting that shadow.”
Keigo felt a shiver run down his spine. Immediately he slammed down his extrasensory shields, cutting off all possible psionic communication with the other boy.
“Sorry. It's a bad habit of mine.”
A bad habit? Even at a glance, it was obvious that Yukimura's VR control was the most nuanced that Keigo had ever seen; it made Jirou's VR abilities look like a joke. It made Fuji Syuusuke's abilities look like a joke. Was it likely that someone like that would be in the bad habit of subconsciously projecting his Empathic gift?
“Do you know if Seigaku has been selling information to the Patrol?” he asked, deliberately avoiding Yukimura's dropped hints. “From what I've precoged, they will soon, if they haven't already.” It was the end for Ginka, although it was merely the speeding up of a process that would have happened naturally.
Yukimura smiled, beautifully, blindingly. His hands were folded in his lap. “Seigaku has been disclosing information about us to the government for several years now.”
“You're joking. How? Why have we not noticed before? For how many years?”
“Why are you here, Atobe? Why are you living as a runner? I think we both know that you have other places you could be. Pleasanter places. More important places.” The Empathic nudge this time was definitely deliberate; Keigo could feel the pressure on his shields. You're not the type to hold back, are you, Yukimura Seiichi? "Do answer the question. I promise you I'm not changing the subject."
The question took him back somewhat; still, the answer was so instinctive that it slipped out at once. “Because I want to be here. Why else?”
Yukimura seemed delighted. “Spoken like a true prince. Sanada would be rightly horrified at your words. But what about Tezuka Kunimitsu? He, like you, has a choice. Why do you think he chooses to stay here, on the streets of Shin Tokyo?”
We all have choices, Yukimura. Although as for Tezuka-- There was a time when I thought I understood him better than anyone else did. The fight, the battle, and the glorious death. Tezuka, I thought we were two of a kind.
He knew better now.
In the face of Keigo's silence, Yukimura went on: “To understand the shadow, you must understand the man who casts the shadow.”
“What shadow do you mean? The Tezuka family?” Keigo had met Tezuka Kunikazu once, as a child. The resemblance, when he first saw Tezuka Kunimitsu six years later, had been startling. “Do you think Tezuka is doing this in order to reconcile with his family?”
“No.” Yukimura stared up, into the virtual sky. “If it was about his family Tezuka would never have become a runner in the first place. I'm talking about the person who truly controls Seigaku. The person who has controlled Seigaku for the last ten years.”
Ten years? “You have to be joking. Yamato Yuudai is dead.”
“So,” said Yukimura, “is Atobe Keigo. Or so I believed. Even Renji believed so. To be honest, we believed that your name was either a pseudonym or a sheer coincidence. Isn't that foolish of us?”
Keigo shook his head. “It isn't. I'm sure that up till now you never had a precognitive vision that led you to believe that my identity was important to you in any way.”
“Yes, although it is extremely odd. You're a Precognitive as well; I'll leave you to think through the implications of that for yourself."
Keigo did, and wasn't sure whether or not he liked the conclusion he came to. "That's irrelevant now. Evidently the thread of futures has become somewhat tangled."
"Yes; it almost seems as if up till now the future has been designed to protect you. Sakaki went to a lot of trouble to disguise you, didn't he? I wonder that he didn't make you change your name.”
“There was no need to. It's not unusual enough as a surname that people would start asking questions.”
“And not many people knew of your existence to begin with. Among those who did, it was widely reported that you were dead.” Yukimura looked pensive. “The fact that you are alive is greatly interesting for me. As it will be for Yamato Yuudai.”
“Does he know?” It was a bad idea to show a weakness like this, but Keigo was already the cornered rat here. It was not a pleasant experience.
“Since no one is hunting for you, it is safe to assume that he does not. I was eager to meet you before he found out, actually. ”
“Do you plan on telling him?”
“Why should I? It would be offering him more power, and he has far too much of that already. To be honest, it would be more convenient for me if you were dead. It's just a shame that Sanada is just about the only person I have who is capable of killing you, and for some reason he's adamant about keeping you alive. He'd be even more determined about it if I told him who you really were.”
“Do it yourself, then,” challenged Keigo. “Haven't you done it before?”
Their eyes met.
Yukimura was the first to look away, but it did not feel to Keigo like he was backing down at all. “I'll keep your secret, for as long as keeping it a secret remains meaningful. The only ones at Rikkai who know are me, Niou, and Renji. If the others find out, it will not be through the three of us.”
“I'm grateful for that.” At the very least it bought Keigo time; time to think, and plan, and hopefully do something to prevent what was beginning to look like the imminent collapse of the world. His world, that he'd worked so hard to create. “I have to ask, though; what's in it for you?”
“Let's see.” Yukimura put a finger to his lips. “'Remember me when you come into your kingdom.' Is that enough of a bargain, for now?”
#
When he woke up, Sakaki was leaning against the wall in front of him. “You're finally awake. I've been waiting quite a while.” He walked over and helped unplug the cables from Keigo's skull. “We have a great deal to talk about. I hope you're not too tired.”
Keigo sat up, placed one hand on Sakaki's arm. “We have even more to talk about than you think, Father. Yukimura knows who I am.”
On to Part V
Genre: SF AU
Notes: Chapter 4, after something like a three-year hiatus. I almost want to apologise for the prose, but uh, there is at least plot, and even more cliffhangers?
The prequel and first three chapters can be found here.
“Kabaji.”
There was no reply. Keigo's fingers closed around the doorknob, but didn't turn it. “Kabaji. Are you there?”
“Usu.”
He whirled around. Kabaji stood by the tinted bay window just outside Shishido's room, holding a brown paper package in his right hand. Keigo took a slow breath.
“Where have you been? I haven't seen you since yesterday morning.”
Kabaji bowed his head once, his face expressionless as ever. Knowing Kabaji, that would be all Keigo was going to get in the way of explanation. He let go of the doorknob. “Never mind. It doesn't matter. Have you heard from the others what's been going on?”
“Usu.”
“Kotoha. The girl we used to know, from back – from back then. She's dead.” The words felt strange on his tongue: surreal, like the first time he saw a boy his own age die. Like the first time he'd killed someone. “You remember her, right? I used to say she looked like a spoiled kitten.”
He looked down the corridor. It was empty, but Keigo had been a squadron leader himself less than three years ago, occupying the room that now belonged to Oshitari. He knew how well sound carried on this floor. “Can you get us something to eat and meet me in my rooms in ten minutes?”
The other boy bowed again, then turned and walked down the corridor – perfectly silent as usual. It was a shame, Keigo thought. Kabaji would have made the perfect spy, if he weren't so conspicuous-looking.
He was not, however, so discreet that Keigo shouldn't be able to notice his presence when he was standing less than two metres away.
I'm getting careless. Sakaki would say something about needing to keep his emotions under control. Sakaki. He would be here tonight to to discuss the results of the dicussions with Jyousei Shounan.
He took the elevator upstairs to his rooms, which had initially formed part of the penthouse apartment. Increasing space constraints had necessitated renovations, and by the time Keigo had joined the syndicate the president's rooms consisted only of a master bedroom with ensuite, a small kitchenette and dining area, and a sitting room that Keigo had lined with bookcases when he moved in. The other half of the former penthouse comprised the executive meeting room as well as Keigo's study, plus a computer room with two neural link chairs for emergency VR access.
Hyoutei was prosperous for a runner syndicate; indeed, it was prosperous by any standards, except perhaps the ones that Keigo had grown up with. The lack of luxury didn't matter too much to Keigo, although Sakaki sometimes seemed to believe that it did.
He placed a thumb on the fingerprint sensor beside his front door and waited for the click before pushing the door open. Inside, the sitting room had that air of unnatural tidiness that indicated the cleaners had been in this morning. Keigo walked straight into the kitchen to pour himself a glass of mineral water, and then activated the music system while he settled down on a couch to wait for Kabaji. The opening strains of Tristan und Isolde came drifting through the speakers located in each corner of the ceiling, causing him to close his eyes. How long had it been since he'd had a chance to go to the opera?
Perhaps he did miss the luxury, sometimes, although classical music was not one of the luxuries he'd appreciated when it was within easy reach. It was Sakaki who had taught him to love Wagner.
The doorbell rang. “You can come in, Kabaji; I didn't lock the door.”
Kabaji was carrying a tray of meatballs and sweet chilli sauce when he came in; the kitchen staff always kept some snacks available for the boys. Keigo sometimes wondered if they prepared them especially for Ohtori and Hiyoshi, who for whatever reason were favourites with the ancillary staff.
“Sit down. Would you like something to drink? There's a half-finished bottle of Shiraz in the fridge; help yourself whenever you want.”
Kabaji placed the tray on the coffee table and sat down down in the couch opposite Keigo's. There was a tension in his the line of his shoulders, Keigo noticed, that he had learned early on to associate with something bothering Kabaji. (Being Kabaji's friend for ten years was something like a degree in non-verbal communication in itself.)
“Mizuki Hajime killed her.” He picked up a toothpick from the tray and speared a meatball. “That's why Akazawa visited the border of our territory last night; Mizuki tried to hide the body there, and Akazawa became suspicious. Do you know Akazawa was dating Kotoha?” He bit into the meatball; it was flavoured with cumin and sesame seeds. "Akazawa took revenge for her today. I would have done it, if he hadn't. I believe I owe her that much.” Perhaps he owed the past that much.
“Usu.” More in a neutral tone than in an affirmative one, though.
“Kabaji. Do you ever wish you could be back--” Home, he'd been about to say, but it would be a false word. Hyoutei was home now, for Kabaji as much as for Keigo. “It may come to that, if Seigaku continues with their plans to integrate with the police force.” Even as he said it, the ridiculousness of the idea occurred to him. Could he go home, even if that turned out to be the best option? It would not be such a problem for Kabaji – as far as Keigo knew, he had parted with his relatives on civil, if not amiable terms. Even if the converse had been true and he had left his family under the worst possible circumstances, it didn't change the fact that he was the sole male heir.
Keigo, on the other hand--
No. I'm sure that I'm indispensable to the old man, no matter how many genetics experiments he's attempted in the interim. It was far more likely that Keigo's identity would be exposed, and that he would be forced to return. Inoue Mamoru had the best intelligence network in Nippon. And if Seigaku chose to break the unwritten runner's code of secrecy and reveal what they knew about the Hyoutei runners...
In fact, it would be safer to assume that they already had broken confidentiality, even if it didn't exactly fit with what he knew about Tezuka Kunimitsu.
“Kabaji.” The change in Keigo's tone seemed to have surprised the other boy, whose eyes held a questioning look. “Effective from tonight I'm ordering red-level security throughout all Hyoutei reputations. The shipment to the Bundesrepublik has to be sent tonight, and all other runs are to be placed on hold. I don't want anything illegal worth more than ten thousand dollars here in our territory.” He pulled out his infodevice and began tapping out a message to the other squadron leaders. “I'm not sure what's happening with Seigaku, but we should assume the worst for now. The rest...well, Sakaki may debrief us tonight.”
Kabaji nodded. He was fingering the brown paper package in his hand: an odd tic for Kabaji. Keigo frowned. “Is that package for me?” he asked. “Who is it from?”
Kabaji shrugged and held it out to Keigo, who took it and peeled off the brown paper.
Inside was another layer of wrapping, this time in silver tissue paper. The blue wave-shaped emblem stuck to one corner caught Keigo's attention. His eyes narrowed.
“The Rising Sea? Rikkai again?” He found the edge of the silver paper, and tore. The object inside was small, hard, and cool to the touch; he let the bits of crumpled paper fall to the floor as he pulled it out to have a look.
It was a flower made of crystal, sixteen-petalled, about the size of a child's hand. Keigo held it up to have a closer look; when placed near the light, it glowed with the colour of broken rainbows.
An ice chrysanthemum? For the second time today, he felt completely paralysed.
They know.
He'd sent Kabaji away soon after that, and messaged Sakaki to let him know that he would be in VR for the next couple of hours: Let me know when you're here and I'll come out as soon as possible. For this particular investigation he'd chosen to use the computer room adjacent to his study; it was less convenient to use than the setup they had in the basement, but considerably more private.
He sat on one of the neural link chairs and parted the hairs at the back of his head, plugging link cables into the entry points that communicated with his cerebral cortex, cerebellum, and midbrain. Keigo had six ports into his central nervous system, which was twice as many as were usually installed; it was unusual, however, for him to use more than three.
He logged on; the world turned into grey space and a series of menus. Where to from here? The Tennis Hub would be the most likely spot, he supposed.
The main forum of the Tennis Hub today took the form of a set of street tennis courts set in Old Earth Japan. Not an infrequent incarnation; Keigo himself had 'played tennis' on these courts quite a few times, most frequently with runners from Seigaku and Fudoumine.
It was also where he'd met Tachibana Kippei's sister An, one of the more competent female runners in Tokyo. And also pretty, if her avatar bore any resemblance to her true physical appearance.
There were about two dozen avatars here today, but no one of interest that he could identify. It was possible, of course, that they were using a pseudonym like he was.
Only two people known to frequent the Tennis Hub were in the position to recognise Keigo's identity from the username Tannhäuser, and either of those two people would be able to lead him to the person he truly wanted to see.
As it turned out, the username was moot within five minutes, when he spotted Akutagawa Jirou in one of the subforums. The forum was depicted as a twenty-first-century Pocky store; the Second Squadron leader was sitting in a corner, stacking boxes of virtual Pocky on top of each other: milk, chocolate, strawberry, milk, chocolate, strawberry...
Keigo reached out and tapped Jirou's avatar on the shoulder.
Jirou looked up. “Ehh, it's you!” he said, springing to his feet. “What are you doing here?”
Keigo rolled his eyes. “Open up a private room. I need to talk to you.”
“Sure!” Almost instantly, the landscape shifted around them; suddenly they were standing on a bridge beneath a blue sky, surrounded by a pine forest. Keigo looked down, and then wished he hadn't; the ravine below was dizzyingly realistic. It was a feat worthy of Hyoutei's best VR manipulator, although Keigo wished that his VR tricks were slightly more... useful.
“Why are you still here?” he asked. “I told Ohtori to wake you up two hours ago.”
“Yeah, he came!” Jirou was bouncing up and down. “I told him I had to stay.”
“Jirou, that wasn't a nice suggestion from Ohtori. That was an order from me.” Even if it might be working out to his convenience now. “What made you think you could go against my instructions?”
Jirou looked crestfallen. “Ahh, I'm sorry. But it was important, honest, Atobe! Bunta-kun said I had to stick around.”
“Marui Bunta said? So you're taking orders from Rikkai now, are you?”
Jirou had flopped onto the ground (well, the bridge), his legs spread out, propping his back into a sitting position with his outstretched hands. “He said Yukimura wanted to see you, so I had to wait here since I'm the only one who wasn't using a pseudonym. He said you would definitely come, and I was to take you to see them. So that's why I'm here. I'm really sorry, Atobe.” He clambered to a standing position. “Atobe? Are you all right?”
Am I just being manipulated by them? Is that it? He placed a hand across his face. I'll see Rikkai destroyed before that happens.
“Atobe?”
He blinked. Jirou's avatar was waving his fingers in front of Keigo's eyes. “Are you okay, Atobe?”
Whatever the circumstances, even if I'm being manipulated, I have to meet him now. There's no other alternative.
“I'm okay, Jirou. Take me to see Rikkai,” he ordered. “Now.”
VR meetings with Sanada had always invariably taken place in the setting of a kendo dojo, except for once, when Keigo had grown tired of the monotony and transformed the area into the throneroom from Neuschwanstein. Today, however, Sanada was standing in a wide, formal garden in the European style, filled with classical sculptures.
Sanada bowed. His avatar, as far as Keigo knew, was almost an exact replica of his physical appearance, down to the Japanese sword he wore at his waist. (His swordmanship was as legendary in the VR context as it was in real life.) But it was the figure standing at Sanada's side that drew Keigo's attention.
“Atobe Keigo. It's so good to meet you at last.”
Yukimura's avatar was well-known to all runners. Keigo had never personally seen it, despite numerous written communications with the man (or woman or child, or whatever Yukimura was); however, Jirou, Kabaji and Oshitari had all met him online before, and there was general agreement as to the details: Yukimura always appeared as an androgynous, strikingly beautiful child, with eyes and hair the colour of the sea.
The slim young man standing on the garden path was neither androgynous nor a child; in fact, he was about Keigo and Sanada's age. Strikingly beautiful – yes, Keigo would concede that.
“You're the one who called this meeting,” he said. “I'd like to get down to business as soon as possible.”
Yukimura inclined his head. “Certainly. I think it would be best if we continued the conversation alone. My apologies to the two of you.” He nodded at Sanada, and then at Jirou, before waving his hand; the other two avatars disappeared instantly.
Keigo couldn't help rather liking Yukimura. It was difficult not to appreciate someone with that much style.
He said, “I think we have two things to talk about: one, the current imbalances among the Kantou syndicates; two, how you found out about my old identity. And what you plan to do about it.”
A garden bench appeared alongside the path. “Would you like to sit down? I think this will be a reasonably lengthy conversation.”
“Thanks, but I'm all right. I never saw the need for excessive verisimilitude in VR settings.”
“Yes, you're quite grounded in reality, aren't you. How strange for an Ancient Studies expert.” Yukimura sat down. “I too, agree that we have only two things to talk about. Tezuka Kunimitsu, and Atobe Keigo. I'd like to talk about St. Rudolph as well, but it's rather too late for words on that subject now, or so Niou assures me.”
Now that Yukimura had taken a seat, Atobe found himself uneasy with their relative positions. Was Yukimura's sense of superiority so marked that he had no problem sitting down in front of a president from a rival syndicate? Even if it was VR.
Still, it was too late to do anything about that now. Again? So this is what it's like, dealing with a truly powerful precognitive. “Tezuka Kunimitsu. The man at the heart of all this.”
“No. Tezuka Kunimitsu is the shadow at the heart of all this, but there is someone casting that shadow.”
Keigo felt a shiver run down his spine. Immediately he slammed down his extrasensory shields, cutting off all possible psionic communication with the other boy.
“Sorry. It's a bad habit of mine.”
A bad habit? Even at a glance, it was obvious that Yukimura's VR control was the most nuanced that Keigo had ever seen; it made Jirou's VR abilities look like a joke. It made Fuji Syuusuke's abilities look like a joke. Was it likely that someone like that would be in the bad habit of subconsciously projecting his Empathic gift?
“Do you know if Seigaku has been selling information to the Patrol?” he asked, deliberately avoiding Yukimura's dropped hints. “From what I've precoged, they will soon, if they haven't already.” It was the end for Ginka, although it was merely the speeding up of a process that would have happened naturally.
Yukimura smiled, beautifully, blindingly. His hands were folded in his lap. “Seigaku has been disclosing information about us to the government for several years now.”
“You're joking. How? Why have we not noticed before? For how many years?”
“Why are you here, Atobe? Why are you living as a runner? I think we both know that you have other places you could be. Pleasanter places. More important places.” The Empathic nudge this time was definitely deliberate; Keigo could feel the pressure on his shields. You're not the type to hold back, are you, Yukimura Seiichi? "Do answer the question. I promise you I'm not changing the subject."
The question took him back somewhat; still, the answer was so instinctive that it slipped out at once. “Because I want to be here. Why else?”
Yukimura seemed delighted. “Spoken like a true prince. Sanada would be rightly horrified at your words. But what about Tezuka Kunimitsu? He, like you, has a choice. Why do you think he chooses to stay here, on the streets of Shin Tokyo?”
We all have choices, Yukimura. Although as for Tezuka-- There was a time when I thought I understood him better than anyone else did. The fight, the battle, and the glorious death. Tezuka, I thought we were two of a kind.
He knew better now.
In the face of Keigo's silence, Yukimura went on: “To understand the shadow, you must understand the man who casts the shadow.”
“What shadow do you mean? The Tezuka family?” Keigo had met Tezuka Kunikazu once, as a child. The resemblance, when he first saw Tezuka Kunimitsu six years later, had been startling. “Do you think Tezuka is doing this in order to reconcile with his family?”
“No.” Yukimura stared up, into the virtual sky. “If it was about his family Tezuka would never have become a runner in the first place. I'm talking about the person who truly controls Seigaku. The person who has controlled Seigaku for the last ten years.”
Ten years? “You have to be joking. Yamato Yuudai is dead.”
“So,” said Yukimura, “is Atobe Keigo. Or so I believed. Even Renji believed so. To be honest, we believed that your name was either a pseudonym or a sheer coincidence. Isn't that foolish of us?”
Keigo shook his head. “It isn't. I'm sure that up till now you never had a precognitive vision that led you to believe that my identity was important to you in any way.”
“Yes, although it is extremely odd. You're a Precognitive as well; I'll leave you to think through the implications of that for yourself."
Keigo did, and wasn't sure whether or not he liked the conclusion he came to. "That's irrelevant now. Evidently the thread of futures has become somewhat tangled."
"Yes; it almost seems as if up till now the future has been designed to protect you. Sakaki went to a lot of trouble to disguise you, didn't he? I wonder that he didn't make you change your name.”
“There was no need to. It's not unusual enough as a surname that people would start asking questions.”
“And not many people knew of your existence to begin with. Among those who did, it was widely reported that you were dead.” Yukimura looked pensive. “The fact that you are alive is greatly interesting for me. As it will be for Yamato Yuudai.”
“Does he know?” It was a bad idea to show a weakness like this, but Keigo was already the cornered rat here. It was not a pleasant experience.
“Since no one is hunting for you, it is safe to assume that he does not. I was eager to meet you before he found out, actually. ”
“Do you plan on telling him?”
“Why should I? It would be offering him more power, and he has far too much of that already. To be honest, it would be more convenient for me if you were dead. It's just a shame that Sanada is just about the only person I have who is capable of killing you, and for some reason he's adamant about keeping you alive. He'd be even more determined about it if I told him who you really were.”
“Do it yourself, then,” challenged Keigo. “Haven't you done it before?”
Their eyes met.
Yukimura was the first to look away, but it did not feel to Keigo like he was backing down at all. “I'll keep your secret, for as long as keeping it a secret remains meaningful. The only ones at Rikkai who know are me, Niou, and Renji. If the others find out, it will not be through the three of us.”
“I'm grateful for that.” At the very least it bought Keigo time; time to think, and plan, and hopefully do something to prevent what was beginning to look like the imminent collapse of the world. His world, that he'd worked so hard to create. “I have to ask, though; what's in it for you?”
“Let's see.” Yukimura put a finger to his lips. “'Remember me when you come into your kingdom.' Is that enough of a bargain, for now?”
When he woke up, Sakaki was leaning against the wall in front of him. “You're finally awake. I've been waiting quite a while.” He walked over and helped unplug the cables from Keigo's skull. “We have a great deal to talk about. I hope you're not too tired.”
Keigo sat up, placed one hand on Sakaki's arm. “We have even more to talk about than you think, Father. Yukimura knows who I am.”
On to Part V
no subject
Date: 2008-09-09 07:58 pm (UTC)I think there's a bit of inside-out-ness going on with Seigaku and Rikkai. We don't have Seigaku's pov at all, yet. We only have Atobe, who is feeling threatened by Tezuka's knowledge, and Rikkai, apparently the Runners' Runners, accusing Seigaku of breaking the community rules. Since our view is from inside that community, Rikkai is coming across as honorable (though cold and ruthless) over against Seigaku's lack of faith with their own kind. If you want us to understand Seigaku as the good guys, at this point in the story, I think they need some kind of narrative presence--if only in Atobe's mind.
no subject
Date: 2008-09-11 11:29 am (UTC)-_- I, uh, think my tendency to privilege Rikkai may be shining through a little too much here. *hides head shamefacedly*