Streets of Nippon, 6/? [SF AU, Atobe]
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almondinflowerStreets of Nippon, part 6/?
characters: Atobe, as usual. Kajimoto, various members of SeiRu and Rikkai.
wordcount: about 4750
genre: SF. Possibly a soap opera. The author is not quite sure. -_-
notes: In which there are meetings, meetings and more meetings, Fuji has Brother Issues, and Rikkai D1 steals the show. As usual.
More than half a decade ago, in another lifetime, before Hanamura Aoi had discovered the thrill and intellectual challenge of criminal activity, she'd been a genetic scientist on the planet Nova. Keigo had, in fact, met her there when he was ten years old. He hadn't liked her then, an impression that hadn't changed after two years of dealings with her syndicate, despite the fact that she was, in many ways, a female version of Sakaki Tarou. They were long-time associates, her acquaintance with Sakaki predating Keigo's by several years; probably they had slept together in the past. Perhaps still did.
Under Hanamura's guidance, Jyousei Shounan had built up a reputation as the region's specialists in illegal genetic modification, a business that was as lucrative as it was specialised. Even though Nippon was known for its progressive laws on human enhancement, gene manipulation was still a heavily regulated activity, subject to exorbitant taxation laws. While the viral modifiers and in-vitro design services that Jyousei Shounan offered were still beyond the financial reach of anyone outside the upper classes, they were a fraction of the cost required to get the same thing through legal channels.
Hanamura had a great fondness for collecting modified humans, as well as creating them. At least eighty-five percent of Jyousei Shounan runners were enhanced in some way – often genetically, but usually via bioaccessories or cybernetic implants. Kajimoto Takahisa had no visible add-ons that Keigo had spotted, but there were rumours that his bloodstream swarmed with nanobots, granting him unnatural healing, physiological control and information storage capabilities.
At the very least, the colour of his eyes was definitely not normal.
Those eyes were at present fixed upon Kirihara Akaya, who was sitting on a carven stool in the middle of the St. Rudolph main conference room. Kirihara's spine was relaxed into a hunch. His hands rested in between his parted legs, his fingers curled around the front edge of the seat. His neck twisted lazily as he examined his surroundings.
All in all, there were thirteen runners in the room: Keigo, Jirou, the four remaining members of the Seiru committee, the three Jyousei Shounan representatives, and of course, the four Rikkai runners. Kirihara's gaze swept around dismissively before noticing Kajimoto's stare. He bared his teeth in a grin as green eyes met purple ones. Kajimoto did not look away.
“That Immunity really is a headache,” said Tanaka Youhei. The Tanaka twins were leaning against the wood panelling next to Kajimoto, wearing their usual distant, snooty expressions. There was some wariness in their faces, however, as they looked at the Rikkai members.
“He's an in-vitro, right?” Tanaka Kouhei did not bother to lower his voice; across the room, Kaneda Ichirou turned in surprise. “That kind of power just isn't natural.”
Nine runners were staring at Kirihara, now: all except Jirou, who was still chattering away to Marui Bunta, Marui himself, and Yagyuu Hiroshi, who was seated at the long table, tapping at his infodevice. Amidst the sudden lull that had occurred in the wake of Kouhei's statement, he said, without looking up: “Kirihara-kun. Do try to control yourself.”
Kirihara scowled, and Keigo felt the sudden dissipation of a pressure he had barely been conscious of.
Immunity. What a remarkable gift. It was the rarest of the psionic abilities, even in its weaker forms; up till now, Keigo had never met anyone completely impervious to telekinetic attack. (Judging from the fervour with which the InSec pyrokinetics had attempted to set Kirihara on fire this morning, neither had they.)
“I wonder to what extent that gift can be controlled,” said Kajimoto Takahisa.
Keigo gave him a sharp look. “What do you mean?”
Kajimoto really did have remarkable poise. “Later. It's not something we should talk about now.” He spoke just softly enough to be out of the Rikkai runners' hearing. “We should really get this meeting underway.”
Keigo bristled. Kajimoto didn't have to tell him what to do.
He walked over to the head of the table, sat down – on the tabletop, planting his feet firmly on the leather office chair next to him - and snapped his fingers with his right hand. “Everybody. We need to make some decisions.”
They all looked at him, then, although from the expression on Akazawa's face, he would rather not have done so. Keigo scanned the room to make sure that he had everyone's attention, and then spoke: “As you should all know by now, we've managed to secure medical attention for those runners who need it, and Hyoutei's Fifth Squadron is working to reestablish order on the borders as we speak.”
Oshitari was out there right now, conducting triage and arranging further medical attention for those who needed it. There had been fewer casualties than Keigo had feared, and no one killed, although two members of Jirou's squad had sustained serious fractures, and there were at least ten runners altogether, from the three syndicates, who would probably require hospital admission.
Which made it all the more amazing that Keigo, Hiyoshi and the Rikkai members, who'd been in what was arguably the most difficult battle, were completely unscathed. Kirihara had a dramatic-looking bruise along his right arm, but that had come from flying too close to a building after the last of the InSec operatives had been dispatched.
“Today's operation was entirely unprecedented in the history of Shin Tokyo, which means we need to discuss what this means for our respective syndicates, and what each of us plan to do from now on.” He glanced at Kajimoto, and then on Akazawa, and finally Marui Bunta. Marui was staring back at Keigo while holding an array of chewing gum sticks out to Jirou. His eyes, too, were violet – somewhat lacking the loveliness and intensity of Kajimoto's, but possessing an alertness and intelligence that were compelling nevertheless. “For my part, I can say that Hyoutei has made no secret of its position regarding Inoue Mamoru's Code of Compliance. What happened today is not going to affect our decision in any way.
“I'm aware, however, that for other parties here, a change of philosophy may be signally to their advantage.” He gazed at the St. Rudolph committee members until the implications of what he was saying dawned on all of them, even Yanagisawa. Akazawa looked as if he were one step away from drawing his pistol and carving a laser burn through Keigo's chest.
Keigo smirked.
Kaneda raised his hand. “Atobe-san, I'm not sure I follow you. Are you saying that it would be the best decision for us to join up with Seigaku? If that's what you think, why have you, and Jyousei Shounan – and even Rikkai – put so much effort into helping us maintain our territory here today?”
“Kaneda. You misunderstand me. I said that it might be advantageous to some of you, to join Seigaku in their quest to integrate with mainstream society. I hope, however, that you don't expect us to simply sit back and watch you hand over your assets to Inoue Memoru. The land that your syndicate controls is far too valuable to let the Patrol take it over without a fight.”
Nomura and Kaneda looked at each other. Keigo kept his face aloof. There was no space, now, to regret the death of Mizuki – even if his tactical abilities would have been appreciated at a time like this.
Yanagisawa chewed on his lower lip, processing the situation. “Wait a minute! Do you mean you're going to come in and take over the place, if we do go over to Seigaku? You can't just do that!”
“Shinya,” said Akazawa warningly. “Atobe, I need you to speak plainly. What do you plan to do, in either case?”
“If you decide to integrate? Jyousei Shounan and Hyoutei will make joint arrangements to take over your territory. This is what we have agreed.” The Seiru-Hyoutei border is filled with residential buildings. We can't afford to fight an all-out battle with InSec along that line. “If, however, you decide to stay independent, we will back you up for as long as you require.”
“In other words, you want our land to be the battlefield, not yours.”
Keigo glanced at Nomura Takuya with an unprecedented rush of respect for the owlish-looking boy. “St. Rudolph has already become the battlefield. The only question is who will be fighting on it, and for what.”
They were temporarily distracted by the sound of chair legs scraping on parquet. Yagyuu Hiroshi stood, tucking his infodevice away into a pocket. “If you would excuse us, Atobe-kun, my fellow committee members would like to leave. I think we have nothing to contribute to these discussions.”
“Erm. Ah.” Marui disentangled himself from Jirou, who had looped an arm around the redheaded boy's shoulders, as if they were posing for a Best Friends Forever photograph. “I think at least one of us should stay here. For reportage-type purposes, if nothing else.”
Yagyuu shrugged. “I will stay, then. But the rest of you should return to Kanagawa.”
“Fair enough, all-knowing one. Come on, Akaya, Jackal, we can go!” They left the room as suddenly as they'd appeared, taking at least twenty percent of the tension in the room with them. Keigo had barely had time to appreciate the improved atmosphere, however, when Akazawa's infodevice began to ring, blaring a 21st century K-pop song across the conference room.
Keigo barely suppressed a wince at the music, but didn't miss the surprise that flashed across Yanagisawa's face. That ringtone belonged to someone important.
Akazawa talked into his infodevice for a few moments, and then frowned and looked up: “Atobe. We're going to call a a recess.”
Keigo raised his brows. “Is this necessary? We don't have all day to waste, you know.”
But Akazawa was already turning on his heels and heading towards the door. “Give us twenty minutes. It's Yuuta. He and his brother are on his way here.”
This time, Keigo could not keep the surprise from his face. “You're letting a Seigaku member in here?” Never mind that keeping Fuji Syuusuke from doing exactly as he pleased was about as effective as - well, trying to stop Keigo from doing exactly as he pleased. “What are you going to do if Fuji Syuusuke makes you an offer?”
Akazawa stood in the doorway and scowled. “Twenty minutes, Atobe. Then we'll talk.” The other St. Rudolph members trailed behind him as he made his exit, Kaneda stopping to give everyone an apologetic look befor hurrying after the others.
The only person left in the room who was not frowning was Yagyuu Hiroshi. Even Jirou looked somewhat upset, although that could have been due to the disappearance of Marui Bunta as much as anything else.
“It seems as if our hosts have given us no other choice,” Keigo said. “We meet in twenty minutes. Don't be late.”
#
“So what did you want to talk about?” They'd left the St. Rudolph building and walked at least two blocks away; Kajimoto seemed eager to ensure they had a modicum of privacy. “I believe you already discussed the trade agreements in great detail yesterday.”
“We did,” said Kajimoto. Alongside them, the road was covered in scorch marks and twisted metal, souvenirs from the battle this morning. “There is, however, one thing we omitted to discuss with Sakaki. Hanamura-sensei wanted me to bring the request to you directly.”
“Oh?” They crossed the street and entered a deserted arcade. Kajimoto sat down on a wooden bench, outside a ramen shop that was closed for renovations, and, once Keigo had joined him, replied:
“We want to know the truth about Yukimura Seiichi.”
He paused with some expectancy. Keigo sat back, folded his arms across his chest. “Would you care to elaborate on that? I'm afraid you haven't made the context of this request particularly clear.”
“Hanamura-sensei has been researching his possible background for years. Every possible lead so far has resulted in a dead end. We've been forced to conclude that this investigation cannot succeed unless we recruit outside help.”
“Hmm. And is there some reason you decided to bring this to me? You should know very well that Hyoutei doesn't trade in information.”
“Because you were the best person to come to, Atobe-san. Of all our associates, you are the one most independent of the Rikkai syndicate's influence. Besides – and you should know this already - we have the same problem when running searches on your name. There's no Atobe Keigo listed anywhere who matches your demographic data – not in the births registry, nor in any educational or immigration records. The same as for Yukimura Seiichi. We thought that you might have some insights into the mystery, that we sorely lack.”
“And you were running searches on my background, because...?”
“It's Hanamura-sensei's policy to perform background checks on everyone we have dealings with. It's nothing personal.”
Keigo checked the time on his wristcomm band; they had eleven minutes before the meeting resumed. He considered his options. A flat refusal, at this point, would be undiplomatic. And likely to arouse suspicion. “You do realise that chances are, Yukimura already knows about this little discussion of ours. And if he doesn't, it means that this search is probably doomed to failure anyway.”
“That may be true. But it's not something we can calculate for. I choose to take the fact that this conversation is occuring, as a good sign in itself.”
Yukimura Seiichi and Niou Masaharu. There couldn't possibly be more than five psionics in the whole of Nippon – no more than a dozen on the entire planet – with the kind of precognitive ability they had. It was powerful enough to ensure that any kind of preemptive strike against Rikkai would forever remain impossible; it was powerful enough to cement Rikkai's position as the country's strongest syndicate, despite their possessing a mere quarter of Hyoutei's manpower.
And the appearance of Kirihara Akaya today helped explain how Rikkai itself had remained strangely immune to precognitive attacks from other syndicates. Saeki Kojirou, perhaps, might have been strong enough to uncover Yukimura's identity via psionic methods. Chitose Senri, certainly. But the Immunity gift was well-known for its ability to not only nullify other psionic abilities but also send them completely haywire. Precognition was particularly vulnerable.
A skilled Immune could confer his or her Immunity on someone else as well as selectively block or disrupt another person's psionic abilities. Even an unskilled one, if sufficiently powerful, could grant considerable protection to the other people in their physical vicinity.
In any case, if it were possible to precog Yukimura's identity, someone would have done so already.
“Have you searched all the possible databases? Thoroughly?”
“No, we haven't,” Kajimoto admitted reluctantly. “There's several hundred invisible records in the International Births and Deaths Registry that we weren't able to hack into, since they're only accessible by the highest-level users. Even discovering that they existed was something of a feat in itself. And we have to allow for the possibility that Yukimura comes from off-planet.”
“In which case you'll never solve the mystery of his identity.”
“Hanamura-sensei is very keen to do so. She insists that an Empathic gift of that calibre could only have been developed in-vitro. If it were not for that Empathic gift, I'd almost be inclined to believe the AI theory.”
“For a living, breathing, human, he certainly doesn't leave many electronic footprints,” agreed Keigo.
“Certainly not. But neither do you.”
Keigo unfolded his arms. “It must be more rewarding than it seems, carrying out errands for Hanamura Aoi.”
This time Kajimoto's face tensed visibly, but only for a split second. “Her research produces some fascinating insights,” he said evenly. “When I said that we couldn't find an Atobe Keigo matching your demographic data, that wasn't exactly true. There was a record of an Atobe Keigo in a Level 4 Classified database. A native of Nippon, like you are, and the age was appropriate. But his blood group is recorded as O Rhesus negative, and more importantly, he died at the age of nine.
“It's strange, though. Beyond the record of his birth and death, we can't seem to get any information on that Atobe Keigo either.”
#
They walked back towards the St. Rudolph headquarters after making a tacit agreement to cooperate, neither of them particularly satisfied with the outcome of the conversation. He definitely caught me off-guard. Two points to him, two to me. He didn't mean to let slip the information about the 'dead' Atobe Keigo. That happened because he was angry.
He was tempted to telepathically ransack Kajimoto's mind, but the violation of trust it entailed would utterly undermine everything Sakaki had worked to establish between Hyoutei and Jyousei Shounan. Even with the unexpected complication Kajimoto had just thrown in, it was still a useful alliance.
More importantly. Kabaji did a database check in May. That record wasn't Level 4 access back then, it was Admin-only. What's the old man doing? Has his illness affected his mind?
Oshitari was sitting on the steps outside the St. Rudolph townhouse when they got there. He saw them coming, and stood, managing a smile as he did so. Good. That meant that no one had been seriously injured.
“We've finished the last of the hospital transfers. Kaida's in stable condition, and Nakamura and Ito are probably going to need orthopaedic surgery, but they're otherwise okay.” If anything, Oshitari looked worse than he had at six o'clock this morning, clothes crumpled, faint unshavenness and bags under eyes strikingly visible in the noon light. “I have to get back to headquarters to deal with the minor injuries, but I thought you'd like to know.”
The double doors at the front of the building opened, and they looked up to see Yagyuu Hiroshi step outside.
Oshitari went very still.
“Atobe-kun, Kajimoto-kun. You're right on time.” Yagyuu turned his head to look at Oshitari. “Oshitari-kun. What a pleasure to meet you.”
Oshitari blurred, rather than moved. Whenever he fought seriously, he was quick as a snake.
The blade of his hand connected with the side of Yagyuu's neck just as Yagyuu's fist drove into Oshitari's stomach. The momentum drove Oshitari off-balance, forcing him to grab the the ornamental railing that lined the steps. Yagyuu reeled back a step. The infodevice clipped to his belt came loose and fell, clattering against the sidewalk.
Keigo watched as they both moved into casual fighting stances, focused on each other. There was a surprising intensity in Oshitari's eyes; Keigo hadn't thought anyone other than – say, Seigaku's Momoshiro – could evoke that kind of expression in Oshitari.
“One,” he said. “Hiroshi moves faster than that. Two, you just hit me with your left hand.”
Yagyuu's posture relaxed. Then he reached up, and pulled off his glasses.
It was a well-established cosmetic service by now, customisable eye coloration; within Nippon it had been available to the general consumer for the last ten years. Still, the idea of pouring nanobots into your iris was an intimidating concept, and the procedure was rare except among fashion extremists. The sight of dark Asian eyes, instantly converting to silver, was both unusual and startling enough to be a novelty.
When the eye color change was immediately followed up, however, by similar, more prominent adjustments in hair and skin tone (light brown to white, tan to pale), the entire spectacle threatened to be freakish rather than fascinating.
“Yuushi. You're as clever as ever.” Immaculately combed hair did not suit Niou Masaharu; as if aware of this, he began using his fingers to rumple it, creating a half-gelled half-tangled look that nevertheless looked less unnatural than the sight of Yagyuu Hiroshi's hairstyle dyed silver. Oshitari's fingers half-curled into a fist.
“Is that all you have to say? After five years?”
“Stop being a bleeding heart, Yuushi. It's not personal. It never was.” Niou nodded at Keigo. “It's time for the meeting to start. We need to go in.”
Keigo looked at the expression of utter - something on Oshitari's face, and then at Niou's impassive eyes. I can't do anything to help. Sorry, Oshitari.
But it was not Keigo, but Niou, who hesitated at the doors of the building, turning to stare at Oshitari for several moments before bowing his head, avoidantly, and slipping inside.
#
They found Fuji Syuusuke standing outside the main entrance to the conference room, quietly observing a wall-sized holographic adaptation of a John Constable painting. Fuji did not look up until Keigo's footsteps entered the anteroom, making a sharp echoing noise, but doubtless he had been aware of their presence far earlier than that.
He looked at them with his trademark impenetrable smile, developing a little frown of surprise as he noticed Kajimoto, before fixing his gaze on Niou – and now his eyes widened, and they were blue, fierce, and guarded.
Niou spoke first. “Fuji. What a pleasant surprise.”
If Fuji was tense, then the three of them were – well, Keigo, at least, was not comfortable. Only a fool or a madman would allow himself to be comfortable around Fuji Syuusuke.
Fuji's smile sharpened, acknowledging the mockery of the Precognitive's statement. “The pleasure is all mine, Niou-kun.”
Keigo decided to intervene before the two of them got caught up in a game of mutual baiting. “We're about to be late for the meeting.”
Niou stepped towards the conference room entrance, but kept his focus on Fuji. Keigo clicked his tongue in irritation. Oh come on, he's not that interesting. Now, if it were Tezuka....
Fuji smiled sunnily, eyes disappearing into crinkles. “It seems that my presence isn't desired here any longer.”
To an ordinary listener, the undercurrent of pain in his voice would have been imperceptible. To Keigo, it was as clear as words spoken aloud. He wondered what it would sound like to someone like Ootori or Yukimura.
“I've already seen it, you know. The end of Seigaku.”
Fuji was already halfway across the anteroom when the words made him pause. Keigo looked from Rikkai runner to Seigaku runner, frowning deeply.
“Not to mention your brother's fate. You'd like to know, wouldn't you, Fuji – whether he gets out of this alive?”
Keigo heartily wished that Niou were in Kanagawa and that Fuji were somewhere very, very, far away. Off-planet, preferably.
He stepped forward, forcing Niou to step aside, and opened both doors, one with each hand.
On the other side of the doorway stood Fuji Yuuta.
Keigo's day was definitely going from bad to worse.
Yuuta took in the scene with a puzzled, and then gradually irritated, expression. “Aniki, you're still here?” His voice darkened to a growl. “I told you to to leave. You shouldn't have come here in the first place!”
Fuji made a noncommittal sound that could have been meant to be apologetic, but sounded to Keigo more like barely suppressed unhappiness. He turned, and Fuji widened his eyes again.
“If your brother's safety is truly your concern, then I suggest you do something about your allies. Do you have any idea how many people could have died today?”
Fuji's body language gave away nothing, but – whether because his emotional distress was causing him to leak, or because the adrenaline of today's events had sharpened Keigo's telepathic senses - a stray thought came wafting across:
Exactly. If Seiru didn't exist....
Keigo narrowed his eyes. He spread his fingers across his face, and perceived, quickly, before Fuji had a chance to strengthen his shields.
....if Seiru didn't exist, then Yuuta would have no choice but to come home.
You wanted today to happen. Fuji Syuusuke, you bastard! Almost involuntarily, Keigo's hand went to the plasma gun holstered at his waist.
Fingers closed around Keigo's wrist, and suddenly Niou Masaharu was there, blocking his path. Keigo glared at Niou. “Let go of my arm, or I'll take you down with him.”
“It's not the right time.” Niou didn't move an inch. “Control your emotions. The last two days ought to have taught you not to act without thinking.”
Control your emotions? It was the sort of thing that he'd told Oshitari, told Shishido so often, that he wanted to bite back a bitter laugh. Do you know how many of my runners could have died today? Do you know how many people I had to kill today? I can't forgive Fuji that.
And then something fell into place in his mind and he understood, finally, what Niou was talking about.
If Mizuki hadn't died. If Akazawa hadn't killed Mizuki. Then Yuuta and Kisarazu Atsushi would never have left St. Rudolph, and the syndicate wouldn't have been left short of three of their strongest fighters at a critical juncture.
More importantly, Fuji Syuusuke would never have permitted InSec and the Patrol to launch an all-out attack on St. Rudolph if his brother had still been there. He would tried to stop it, and, because he was Fuji Syuusuke, succeeded.
Chains of causation, dominoes tumbling down. A butterfly flapping its wings in China. Keigo could see it all, now.
Sometime while Keigo had been having his epiphany, Fuji Yuuta had come forward. He was now talking to his brother, earnestly. “Aniki. This isn't anything you can help with. Please go.”
Fuji Syuusuke reached up with one slender hand and traced the outline of his brother's jaw. Yuuta looked uncomfortable, but didn't pull away.
“Take care of yourself,” Fuji said softly – and then he was gone, silent like a cat, like a shifting shadow.
Keigo and Fuji Yuuta were left looking at one another. Keigo managed to find his voice first. “So. You've thrown in your lot with Akazawa.”
Yuuta started to look defensive, but then seemed to gather himself, and met Keigo's eyes squarely. “Yes. I have.”
“I'm very pleased to hear that.” And he was; there was genuine pleasure, in seeing Fuji Yuuta's sincerity, the determined set to his brow. You should hold on to this one, Akazawa. He's worth the trouble. “Come with us; we have decisions to make.”
#
The meeting lasted until mid-afternoon. It was, ultimately, satisfactory in its outcome; the return of Fuji Yuuta seemed to have cemented Akazawa's determination to protect the St. Rudolph syndicate. It was decided that the reinforcements from Jyousei Shounan would not be needed to defend the territory.
“InSec took a significant loss today. I doubt they'll try again,” Keigo said, watching Niou Masaharu's face as he did so – but the Precognitive neither confirmed nor denied Keigo's predictions, and even if he had, who would have trusted Niou not to lie, anyhow?
Kajimoto contributed little to the discussions, but Keigo had little doubt that Jyousei Shounan would remain compliant as long as he kept dangling the carrot of Yukimura's identity before Kajimoto's nose – and if necessary, the carrot of Keigo's own identity.
As to Rikkai's role in all this – well, Yukimura was impossible to predict, and would no doubt demand payback in due time. The fact that he'd gone to considerable trouble this morning to help them out suggested that he had a personal interest in keeping Keigo alive.
Still, it wouldn't hurt for Keigo to have some ammunition ready, when Yukimura made his move.
He considered the problem while he was flying back to Hyoutei headquarters, observing the streets below as he did so. Hiyoshi had effected the area clean-up with remarkable efficiency; from the elevation he was at, Keigo could barely see any traces of the morning's battle. Some broken glass on the sidewalks, maybe. Fewer pedestrians than one would expect in a shopping arcade on a Friday afternoon.
They were reliable, his squadron leaders. Hiyoshi. Kabaji. Even Shishido and Jirou, as unpredictable as they seemed at times.
But there was only one of them with the skills Keigo needed right now. And he was in many ways the least reliable of the lot.
He tapped a button on his wristcomm band. It rang for several seconds before there was a buzz, and a languid, tenor voice drifted from the microspeaker, barely audible over the rush of wind blowing past the flyer. “Keigo. What do you want, now?”
“Meet me for dinner tonight. Six o'clock, sharp.” He cut the connection the moment the final word left his lips; the flyer hurtled forward, uninterrupted. There was no need to state the venue. The usual place, Haginosuke.
On to side-story: Prognosis. (recommended)
On to Chapter 7.
characters: Atobe, as usual. Kajimoto, various members of SeiRu and Rikkai.
wordcount: about 4750
genre: SF. Possibly a soap opera. The author is not quite sure. -_-
notes: In which there are meetings, meetings and more meetings, Fuji has Brother Issues, and Rikkai D1 steals the show. As usual.
More than half a decade ago, in another lifetime, before Hanamura Aoi had discovered the thrill and intellectual challenge of criminal activity, she'd been a genetic scientist on the planet Nova. Keigo had, in fact, met her there when he was ten years old. He hadn't liked her then, an impression that hadn't changed after two years of dealings with her syndicate, despite the fact that she was, in many ways, a female version of Sakaki Tarou. They were long-time associates, her acquaintance with Sakaki predating Keigo's by several years; probably they had slept together in the past. Perhaps still did.
Under Hanamura's guidance, Jyousei Shounan had built up a reputation as the region's specialists in illegal genetic modification, a business that was as lucrative as it was specialised. Even though Nippon was known for its progressive laws on human enhancement, gene manipulation was still a heavily regulated activity, subject to exorbitant taxation laws. While the viral modifiers and in-vitro design services that Jyousei Shounan offered were still beyond the financial reach of anyone outside the upper classes, they were a fraction of the cost required to get the same thing through legal channels.
Hanamura had a great fondness for collecting modified humans, as well as creating them. At least eighty-five percent of Jyousei Shounan runners were enhanced in some way – often genetically, but usually via bioaccessories or cybernetic implants. Kajimoto Takahisa had no visible add-ons that Keigo had spotted, but there were rumours that his bloodstream swarmed with nanobots, granting him unnatural healing, physiological control and information storage capabilities.
At the very least, the colour of his eyes was definitely not normal.
Those eyes were at present fixed upon Kirihara Akaya, who was sitting on a carven stool in the middle of the St. Rudolph main conference room. Kirihara's spine was relaxed into a hunch. His hands rested in between his parted legs, his fingers curled around the front edge of the seat. His neck twisted lazily as he examined his surroundings.
All in all, there were thirteen runners in the room: Keigo, Jirou, the four remaining members of the Seiru committee, the three Jyousei Shounan representatives, and of course, the four Rikkai runners. Kirihara's gaze swept around dismissively before noticing Kajimoto's stare. He bared his teeth in a grin as green eyes met purple ones. Kajimoto did not look away.
“That Immunity really is a headache,” said Tanaka Youhei. The Tanaka twins were leaning against the wood panelling next to Kajimoto, wearing their usual distant, snooty expressions. There was some wariness in their faces, however, as they looked at the Rikkai members.
“He's an in-vitro, right?” Tanaka Kouhei did not bother to lower his voice; across the room, Kaneda Ichirou turned in surprise. “That kind of power just isn't natural.”
Nine runners were staring at Kirihara, now: all except Jirou, who was still chattering away to Marui Bunta, Marui himself, and Yagyuu Hiroshi, who was seated at the long table, tapping at his infodevice. Amidst the sudden lull that had occurred in the wake of Kouhei's statement, he said, without looking up: “Kirihara-kun. Do try to control yourself.”
Kirihara scowled, and Keigo felt the sudden dissipation of a pressure he had barely been conscious of.
Immunity. What a remarkable gift. It was the rarest of the psionic abilities, even in its weaker forms; up till now, Keigo had never met anyone completely impervious to telekinetic attack. (Judging from the fervour with which the InSec pyrokinetics had attempted to set Kirihara on fire this morning, neither had they.)
“I wonder to what extent that gift can be controlled,” said Kajimoto Takahisa.
Keigo gave him a sharp look. “What do you mean?”
Kajimoto really did have remarkable poise. “Later. It's not something we should talk about now.” He spoke just softly enough to be out of the Rikkai runners' hearing. “We should really get this meeting underway.”
Keigo bristled. Kajimoto didn't have to tell him what to do.
He walked over to the head of the table, sat down – on the tabletop, planting his feet firmly on the leather office chair next to him - and snapped his fingers with his right hand. “Everybody. We need to make some decisions.”
They all looked at him, then, although from the expression on Akazawa's face, he would rather not have done so. Keigo scanned the room to make sure that he had everyone's attention, and then spoke: “As you should all know by now, we've managed to secure medical attention for those runners who need it, and Hyoutei's Fifth Squadron is working to reestablish order on the borders as we speak.”
Oshitari was out there right now, conducting triage and arranging further medical attention for those who needed it. There had been fewer casualties than Keigo had feared, and no one killed, although two members of Jirou's squad had sustained serious fractures, and there were at least ten runners altogether, from the three syndicates, who would probably require hospital admission.
Which made it all the more amazing that Keigo, Hiyoshi and the Rikkai members, who'd been in what was arguably the most difficult battle, were completely unscathed. Kirihara had a dramatic-looking bruise along his right arm, but that had come from flying too close to a building after the last of the InSec operatives had been dispatched.
“Today's operation was entirely unprecedented in the history of Shin Tokyo, which means we need to discuss what this means for our respective syndicates, and what each of us plan to do from now on.” He glanced at Kajimoto, and then on Akazawa, and finally Marui Bunta. Marui was staring back at Keigo while holding an array of chewing gum sticks out to Jirou. His eyes, too, were violet – somewhat lacking the loveliness and intensity of Kajimoto's, but possessing an alertness and intelligence that were compelling nevertheless. “For my part, I can say that Hyoutei has made no secret of its position regarding Inoue Mamoru's Code of Compliance. What happened today is not going to affect our decision in any way.
“I'm aware, however, that for other parties here, a change of philosophy may be signally to their advantage.” He gazed at the St. Rudolph committee members until the implications of what he was saying dawned on all of them, even Yanagisawa. Akazawa looked as if he were one step away from drawing his pistol and carving a laser burn through Keigo's chest.
Keigo smirked.
Kaneda raised his hand. “Atobe-san, I'm not sure I follow you. Are you saying that it would be the best decision for us to join up with Seigaku? If that's what you think, why have you, and Jyousei Shounan – and even Rikkai – put so much effort into helping us maintain our territory here today?”
“Kaneda. You misunderstand me. I said that it might be advantageous to some of you, to join Seigaku in their quest to integrate with mainstream society. I hope, however, that you don't expect us to simply sit back and watch you hand over your assets to Inoue Memoru. The land that your syndicate controls is far too valuable to let the Patrol take it over without a fight.”
Nomura and Kaneda looked at each other. Keigo kept his face aloof. There was no space, now, to regret the death of Mizuki – even if his tactical abilities would have been appreciated at a time like this.
Yanagisawa chewed on his lower lip, processing the situation. “Wait a minute! Do you mean you're going to come in and take over the place, if we do go over to Seigaku? You can't just do that!”
“Shinya,” said Akazawa warningly. “Atobe, I need you to speak plainly. What do you plan to do, in either case?”
“If you decide to integrate? Jyousei Shounan and Hyoutei will make joint arrangements to take over your territory. This is what we have agreed.” The Seiru-Hyoutei border is filled with residential buildings. We can't afford to fight an all-out battle with InSec along that line. “If, however, you decide to stay independent, we will back you up for as long as you require.”
“In other words, you want our land to be the battlefield, not yours.”
Keigo glanced at Nomura Takuya with an unprecedented rush of respect for the owlish-looking boy. “St. Rudolph has already become the battlefield. The only question is who will be fighting on it, and for what.”
They were temporarily distracted by the sound of chair legs scraping on parquet. Yagyuu Hiroshi stood, tucking his infodevice away into a pocket. “If you would excuse us, Atobe-kun, my fellow committee members would like to leave. I think we have nothing to contribute to these discussions.”
“Erm. Ah.” Marui disentangled himself from Jirou, who had looped an arm around the redheaded boy's shoulders, as if they were posing for a Best Friends Forever photograph. “I think at least one of us should stay here. For reportage-type purposes, if nothing else.”
Yagyuu shrugged. “I will stay, then. But the rest of you should return to Kanagawa.”
“Fair enough, all-knowing one. Come on, Akaya, Jackal, we can go!” They left the room as suddenly as they'd appeared, taking at least twenty percent of the tension in the room with them. Keigo had barely had time to appreciate the improved atmosphere, however, when Akazawa's infodevice began to ring, blaring a 21st century K-pop song across the conference room.
Keigo barely suppressed a wince at the music, but didn't miss the surprise that flashed across Yanagisawa's face. That ringtone belonged to someone important.
Akazawa talked into his infodevice for a few moments, and then frowned and looked up: “Atobe. We're going to call a a recess.”
Keigo raised his brows. “Is this necessary? We don't have all day to waste, you know.”
But Akazawa was already turning on his heels and heading towards the door. “Give us twenty minutes. It's Yuuta. He and his brother are on his way here.”
This time, Keigo could not keep the surprise from his face. “You're letting a Seigaku member in here?” Never mind that keeping Fuji Syuusuke from doing exactly as he pleased was about as effective as - well, trying to stop Keigo from doing exactly as he pleased. “What are you going to do if Fuji Syuusuke makes you an offer?”
Akazawa stood in the doorway and scowled. “Twenty minutes, Atobe. Then we'll talk.” The other St. Rudolph members trailed behind him as he made his exit, Kaneda stopping to give everyone an apologetic look befor hurrying after the others.
The only person left in the room who was not frowning was Yagyuu Hiroshi. Even Jirou looked somewhat upset, although that could have been due to the disappearance of Marui Bunta as much as anything else.
“It seems as if our hosts have given us no other choice,” Keigo said. “We meet in twenty minutes. Don't be late.”
“So what did you want to talk about?” They'd left the St. Rudolph building and walked at least two blocks away; Kajimoto seemed eager to ensure they had a modicum of privacy. “I believe you already discussed the trade agreements in great detail yesterday.”
“We did,” said Kajimoto. Alongside them, the road was covered in scorch marks and twisted metal, souvenirs from the battle this morning. “There is, however, one thing we omitted to discuss with Sakaki. Hanamura-sensei wanted me to bring the request to you directly.”
“Oh?” They crossed the street and entered a deserted arcade. Kajimoto sat down on a wooden bench, outside a ramen shop that was closed for renovations, and, once Keigo had joined him, replied:
“We want to know the truth about Yukimura Seiichi.”
He paused with some expectancy. Keigo sat back, folded his arms across his chest. “Would you care to elaborate on that? I'm afraid you haven't made the context of this request particularly clear.”
“Hanamura-sensei has been researching his possible background for years. Every possible lead so far has resulted in a dead end. We've been forced to conclude that this investigation cannot succeed unless we recruit outside help.”
“Hmm. And is there some reason you decided to bring this to me? You should know very well that Hyoutei doesn't trade in information.”
“Because you were the best person to come to, Atobe-san. Of all our associates, you are the one most independent of the Rikkai syndicate's influence. Besides – and you should know this already - we have the same problem when running searches on your name. There's no Atobe Keigo listed anywhere who matches your demographic data – not in the births registry, nor in any educational or immigration records. The same as for Yukimura Seiichi. We thought that you might have some insights into the mystery, that we sorely lack.”
“And you were running searches on my background, because...?”
“It's Hanamura-sensei's policy to perform background checks on everyone we have dealings with. It's nothing personal.”
Keigo checked the time on his wristcomm band; they had eleven minutes before the meeting resumed. He considered his options. A flat refusal, at this point, would be undiplomatic. And likely to arouse suspicion. “You do realise that chances are, Yukimura already knows about this little discussion of ours. And if he doesn't, it means that this search is probably doomed to failure anyway.”
“That may be true. But it's not something we can calculate for. I choose to take the fact that this conversation is occuring, as a good sign in itself.”
Yukimura Seiichi and Niou Masaharu. There couldn't possibly be more than five psionics in the whole of Nippon – no more than a dozen on the entire planet – with the kind of precognitive ability they had. It was powerful enough to ensure that any kind of preemptive strike against Rikkai would forever remain impossible; it was powerful enough to cement Rikkai's position as the country's strongest syndicate, despite their possessing a mere quarter of Hyoutei's manpower.
And the appearance of Kirihara Akaya today helped explain how Rikkai itself had remained strangely immune to precognitive attacks from other syndicates. Saeki Kojirou, perhaps, might have been strong enough to uncover Yukimura's identity via psionic methods. Chitose Senri, certainly. But the Immunity gift was well-known for its ability to not only nullify other psionic abilities but also send them completely haywire. Precognition was particularly vulnerable.
A skilled Immune could confer his or her Immunity on someone else as well as selectively block or disrupt another person's psionic abilities. Even an unskilled one, if sufficiently powerful, could grant considerable protection to the other people in their physical vicinity.
In any case, if it were possible to precog Yukimura's identity, someone would have done so already.
“Have you searched all the possible databases? Thoroughly?”
“No, we haven't,” Kajimoto admitted reluctantly. “There's several hundred invisible records in the International Births and Deaths Registry that we weren't able to hack into, since they're only accessible by the highest-level users. Even discovering that they existed was something of a feat in itself. And we have to allow for the possibility that Yukimura comes from off-planet.”
“In which case you'll never solve the mystery of his identity.”
“Hanamura-sensei is very keen to do so. She insists that an Empathic gift of that calibre could only have been developed in-vitro. If it were not for that Empathic gift, I'd almost be inclined to believe the AI theory.”
“For a living, breathing, human, he certainly doesn't leave many electronic footprints,” agreed Keigo.
“Certainly not. But neither do you.”
Keigo unfolded his arms. “It must be more rewarding than it seems, carrying out errands for Hanamura Aoi.”
This time Kajimoto's face tensed visibly, but only for a split second. “Her research produces some fascinating insights,” he said evenly. “When I said that we couldn't find an Atobe Keigo matching your demographic data, that wasn't exactly true. There was a record of an Atobe Keigo in a Level 4 Classified database. A native of Nippon, like you are, and the age was appropriate. But his blood group is recorded as O Rhesus negative, and more importantly, he died at the age of nine.
“It's strange, though. Beyond the record of his birth and death, we can't seem to get any information on that Atobe Keigo either.”
They walked back towards the St. Rudolph headquarters after making a tacit agreement to cooperate, neither of them particularly satisfied with the outcome of the conversation. He definitely caught me off-guard. Two points to him, two to me. He didn't mean to let slip the information about the 'dead' Atobe Keigo. That happened because he was angry.
He was tempted to telepathically ransack Kajimoto's mind, but the violation of trust it entailed would utterly undermine everything Sakaki had worked to establish between Hyoutei and Jyousei Shounan. Even with the unexpected complication Kajimoto had just thrown in, it was still a useful alliance.
More importantly. Kabaji did a database check in May. That record wasn't Level 4 access back then, it was Admin-only. What's the old man doing? Has his illness affected his mind?
Oshitari was sitting on the steps outside the St. Rudolph townhouse when they got there. He saw them coming, and stood, managing a smile as he did so. Good. That meant that no one had been seriously injured.
“We've finished the last of the hospital transfers. Kaida's in stable condition, and Nakamura and Ito are probably going to need orthopaedic surgery, but they're otherwise okay.” If anything, Oshitari looked worse than he had at six o'clock this morning, clothes crumpled, faint unshavenness and bags under eyes strikingly visible in the noon light. “I have to get back to headquarters to deal with the minor injuries, but I thought you'd like to know.”
The double doors at the front of the building opened, and they looked up to see Yagyuu Hiroshi step outside.
Oshitari went very still.
“Atobe-kun, Kajimoto-kun. You're right on time.” Yagyuu turned his head to look at Oshitari. “Oshitari-kun. What a pleasure to meet you.”
Oshitari blurred, rather than moved. Whenever he fought seriously, he was quick as a snake.
The blade of his hand connected with the side of Yagyuu's neck just as Yagyuu's fist drove into Oshitari's stomach. The momentum drove Oshitari off-balance, forcing him to grab the the ornamental railing that lined the steps. Yagyuu reeled back a step. The infodevice clipped to his belt came loose and fell, clattering against the sidewalk.
Keigo watched as they both moved into casual fighting stances, focused on each other. There was a surprising intensity in Oshitari's eyes; Keigo hadn't thought anyone other than – say, Seigaku's Momoshiro – could evoke that kind of expression in Oshitari.
“One,” he said. “Hiroshi moves faster than that. Two, you just hit me with your left hand.”
Yagyuu's posture relaxed. Then he reached up, and pulled off his glasses.
It was a well-established cosmetic service by now, customisable eye coloration; within Nippon it had been available to the general consumer for the last ten years. Still, the idea of pouring nanobots into your iris was an intimidating concept, and the procedure was rare except among fashion extremists. The sight of dark Asian eyes, instantly converting to silver, was both unusual and startling enough to be a novelty.
When the eye color change was immediately followed up, however, by similar, more prominent adjustments in hair and skin tone (light brown to white, tan to pale), the entire spectacle threatened to be freakish rather than fascinating.
“Yuushi. You're as clever as ever.” Immaculately combed hair did not suit Niou Masaharu; as if aware of this, he began using his fingers to rumple it, creating a half-gelled half-tangled look that nevertheless looked less unnatural than the sight of Yagyuu Hiroshi's hairstyle dyed silver. Oshitari's fingers half-curled into a fist.
“Is that all you have to say? After five years?”
“Stop being a bleeding heart, Yuushi. It's not personal. It never was.” Niou nodded at Keigo. “It's time for the meeting to start. We need to go in.”
Keigo looked at the expression of utter - something on Oshitari's face, and then at Niou's impassive eyes. I can't do anything to help. Sorry, Oshitari.
But it was not Keigo, but Niou, who hesitated at the doors of the building, turning to stare at Oshitari for several moments before bowing his head, avoidantly, and slipping inside.
They found Fuji Syuusuke standing outside the main entrance to the conference room, quietly observing a wall-sized holographic adaptation of a John Constable painting. Fuji did not look up until Keigo's footsteps entered the anteroom, making a sharp echoing noise, but doubtless he had been aware of their presence far earlier than that.
He looked at them with his trademark impenetrable smile, developing a little frown of surprise as he noticed Kajimoto, before fixing his gaze on Niou – and now his eyes widened, and they were blue, fierce, and guarded.
Niou spoke first. “Fuji. What a pleasant surprise.”
If Fuji was tense, then the three of them were – well, Keigo, at least, was not comfortable. Only a fool or a madman would allow himself to be comfortable around Fuji Syuusuke.
Fuji's smile sharpened, acknowledging the mockery of the Precognitive's statement. “The pleasure is all mine, Niou-kun.”
Keigo decided to intervene before the two of them got caught up in a game of mutual baiting. “We're about to be late for the meeting.”
Niou stepped towards the conference room entrance, but kept his focus on Fuji. Keigo clicked his tongue in irritation. Oh come on, he's not that interesting. Now, if it were Tezuka....
Fuji smiled sunnily, eyes disappearing into crinkles. “It seems that my presence isn't desired here any longer.”
To an ordinary listener, the undercurrent of pain in his voice would have been imperceptible. To Keigo, it was as clear as words spoken aloud. He wondered what it would sound like to someone like Ootori or Yukimura.
“I've already seen it, you know. The end of Seigaku.”
Fuji was already halfway across the anteroom when the words made him pause. Keigo looked from Rikkai runner to Seigaku runner, frowning deeply.
“Not to mention your brother's fate. You'd like to know, wouldn't you, Fuji – whether he gets out of this alive?”
Keigo heartily wished that Niou were in Kanagawa and that Fuji were somewhere very, very, far away. Off-planet, preferably.
He stepped forward, forcing Niou to step aside, and opened both doors, one with each hand.
On the other side of the doorway stood Fuji Yuuta.
Keigo's day was definitely going from bad to worse.
Yuuta took in the scene with a puzzled, and then gradually irritated, expression. “Aniki, you're still here?” His voice darkened to a growl. “I told you to to leave. You shouldn't have come here in the first place!”
Fuji made a noncommittal sound that could have been meant to be apologetic, but sounded to Keigo more like barely suppressed unhappiness. He turned, and Fuji widened his eyes again.
“If your brother's safety is truly your concern, then I suggest you do something about your allies. Do you have any idea how many people could have died today?”
Fuji's body language gave away nothing, but – whether because his emotional distress was causing him to leak, or because the adrenaline of today's events had sharpened Keigo's telepathic senses - a stray thought came wafting across:
Exactly. If Seiru didn't exist....
Keigo narrowed his eyes. He spread his fingers across his face, and perceived, quickly, before Fuji had a chance to strengthen his shields.
....if Seiru didn't exist, then Yuuta would have no choice but to come home.
You wanted today to happen. Fuji Syuusuke, you bastard! Almost involuntarily, Keigo's hand went to the plasma gun holstered at his waist.
Fingers closed around Keigo's wrist, and suddenly Niou Masaharu was there, blocking his path. Keigo glared at Niou. “Let go of my arm, or I'll take you down with him.”
“It's not the right time.” Niou didn't move an inch. “Control your emotions. The last two days ought to have taught you not to act without thinking.”
Control your emotions? It was the sort of thing that he'd told Oshitari, told Shishido so often, that he wanted to bite back a bitter laugh. Do you know how many of my runners could have died today? Do you know how many people I had to kill today? I can't forgive Fuji that.
And then something fell into place in his mind and he understood, finally, what Niou was talking about.
If Mizuki hadn't died. If Akazawa hadn't killed Mizuki. Then Yuuta and Kisarazu Atsushi would never have left St. Rudolph, and the syndicate wouldn't have been left short of three of their strongest fighters at a critical juncture.
More importantly, Fuji Syuusuke would never have permitted InSec and the Patrol to launch an all-out attack on St. Rudolph if his brother had still been there. He would tried to stop it, and, because he was Fuji Syuusuke, succeeded.
Chains of causation, dominoes tumbling down. A butterfly flapping its wings in China. Keigo could see it all, now.
Sometime while Keigo had been having his epiphany, Fuji Yuuta had come forward. He was now talking to his brother, earnestly. “Aniki. This isn't anything you can help with. Please go.”
Fuji Syuusuke reached up with one slender hand and traced the outline of his brother's jaw. Yuuta looked uncomfortable, but didn't pull away.
“Take care of yourself,” Fuji said softly – and then he was gone, silent like a cat, like a shifting shadow.
Keigo and Fuji Yuuta were left looking at one another. Keigo managed to find his voice first. “So. You've thrown in your lot with Akazawa.”
Yuuta started to look defensive, but then seemed to gather himself, and met Keigo's eyes squarely. “Yes. I have.”
“I'm very pleased to hear that.” And he was; there was genuine pleasure, in seeing Fuji Yuuta's sincerity, the determined set to his brow. You should hold on to this one, Akazawa. He's worth the trouble. “Come with us; we have decisions to make.”
The meeting lasted until mid-afternoon. It was, ultimately, satisfactory in its outcome; the return of Fuji Yuuta seemed to have cemented Akazawa's determination to protect the St. Rudolph syndicate. It was decided that the reinforcements from Jyousei Shounan would not be needed to defend the territory.
“InSec took a significant loss today. I doubt they'll try again,” Keigo said, watching Niou Masaharu's face as he did so – but the Precognitive neither confirmed nor denied Keigo's predictions, and even if he had, who would have trusted Niou not to lie, anyhow?
Kajimoto contributed little to the discussions, but Keigo had little doubt that Jyousei Shounan would remain compliant as long as he kept dangling the carrot of Yukimura's identity before Kajimoto's nose – and if necessary, the carrot of Keigo's own identity.
As to Rikkai's role in all this – well, Yukimura was impossible to predict, and would no doubt demand payback in due time. The fact that he'd gone to considerable trouble this morning to help them out suggested that he had a personal interest in keeping Keigo alive.
Still, it wouldn't hurt for Keigo to have some ammunition ready, when Yukimura made his move.
He considered the problem while he was flying back to Hyoutei headquarters, observing the streets below as he did so. Hiyoshi had effected the area clean-up with remarkable efficiency; from the elevation he was at, Keigo could barely see any traces of the morning's battle. Some broken glass on the sidewalks, maybe. Fewer pedestrians than one would expect in a shopping arcade on a Friday afternoon.
They were reliable, his squadron leaders. Hiyoshi. Kabaji. Even Shishido and Jirou, as unpredictable as they seemed at times.
But there was only one of them with the skills Keigo needed right now. And he was in many ways the least reliable of the lot.
He tapped a button on his wristcomm band. It rang for several seconds before there was a buzz, and a languid, tenor voice drifted from the microspeaker, barely audible over the rush of wind blowing past the flyer. “Keigo. What do you want, now?”
“Meet me for dinner tonight. Six o'clock, sharp.” He cut the connection the moment the final word left his lips; the flyer hurtled forward, uninterrupted. There was no need to state the venue. The usual place, Haginosuke.
On to side-story: Prognosis. (recommended)
On to Chapter 7.
