XCEL

“Where do you think you’re going, Rin?!”

“Home!”

“That’s the way to the manga café!”

“Did I stutter?!”

The bustle of Chiba’s streets was absolutely no match for the bickering that arose the following morning. Passersby on both sides gave odd looks to the two teenagers shouting at one another across a busy road, their pointed stares and increasingly exasperated gestures broken up by the occasional bus or tram car that came rumbling past.

“We’re meant to be going home together!” Yelled Kinuka Amibari. “We live that way!”

“Young love, eh?” A man murmured to his wife. She giggled. “I remember those days.”

Kinuka hastened to correct them, albeit all too late. The couple had already gone; misconception, set in stone.

“I’m a fugitive, Amibari!” Rin’s shouts echoed painfully above the sound of traffic. “The police know where I live! Do you think I’m insane?!” A moment later, he added. “Don’t answer that!”

A woman waiting for a bus next to him gave him cautious side-eye and cleared her throat. “What?” Rin leered. “You gonna call the cops on me? I dare you.”

The woman’s eyes widened, and she shuffled away.

“We said we’d be back by noon!” Kinuka cried. The three of them had made a plan, or so she’d thought. Rin evidently had other ideas. The girl pointed down her original path. “Stop fooling around!”

“Make me!” Rinkaku Harigane stuck out his tongue and sauntered off down a side street. Before long, he’d vanished amid the swarming sea of heads, clothing, and other public miscellany.

Kinuka Amibari swore under her breath, no choice but to follow. If she didn’t, the idiot might get himself run over, or worse. She looked for an opportunity to cross, but traffic stood at an irate standstill. Waiting until she thought no-one was looking, Kinuka unravelled her arm into an elastic rope, whipping it forward to lasso around a streetlamp. She took a few steps back, winding the fibres taut, before releasing the tension to launch herself over the road.

The sudden rush both brought out a giddy smile, the wind rushing past her face. Momentarily, she flew.

Then, however, came the irritating inevitability of landing. Psychic energy crackled through her extremities, and the air around her shimmered. Similar to how the JPRO agents had slowed their fall, Kinuka tried projecting her psychic energy outwards in an aura, in hopes that it would act like a cushion.

She landed on her feet, a bigger jolt to her knees than she would’ve liked, and nearly stumbled headfirst into a wall. Ignoring the shocked stares of the few pedestrians awake enough nearby, Kinuka wove her way through the crowd, and darted down the side street after Rin. This was blissfully empty compared to the main street, yet still she did her best to keep her gait to a brisk walk. This, she realised, was largely unnecessary given how much attention she’d likely already attracted, but it was the thought that counted.

Rinkaku Harigane's stomach was staging a protest; it demanded nourishment, and the manga café on Shiburusawa Street was its chosen battleground. The meagre breakfast he'd managed so far was a bread roll Kinuka swore she had absolutely not stolen from a local bakery during her early-morning detour to launder their clothes. The roll had hit him square in the forehead, a wake-up call he hadn't signed up for, only having opened his eyes five minutes prior.

Tegata had been largely apathetic to their quarrelling—how the boy managed to keep his patience was beyond Rin—instead focused on reconnaissance by means of his Shadow Puppet. He’d been eager to set out to the facility, but Rin and Kinuka had managed to convince him a trip home was necessary first. Neither had anything on them beyond what they’d taken to school two days ago. There was a high chance the police would already be lying in wait, but Rin needed to return home for a reason that trumped his existing need for a spare change of clothes, and possibly a shower.

First, however? Breakfast. He couldn’t do his architecting on an empty stomach. The bell over the door tinkled as Rin breached the premises, a cosy nook settled underneath one of the overpasses that lead to the western edge of the financial district. A stiff-faced woman, her face lined as it was kind, who somehow managed to run the shop seemingly by herself all this time, had been preoccupied preparing the day’s specials on a tray before she caught sight of the youth and nearby passed out.

“Harigane!” She cried, the tray of crepes she’d been carrying spilling across the counter top. “Goodness me, you nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“Morning, Ms. Sato,” Rin raised a weary hand in greeting, as though today was just any regular Friday. He pulled out one of the bar-stool chairs that lined the counter—a sweeping glance revealed a merciful absence of other patrons—and slumped face-first onto the hardwood.

“What are you doing here?!” Ms. Sato asked. The poor woman looked like she had not only just seen a ghost, but seen that same ghost make itself home in her very own shop.

“What do you think, you old bag?” Rin grumbled into his elbow. “I’m hungry.”

Sato seemed used to Rin’s vulgarities, or was too preoccupied by the situation to bother chastising the boy. “You know that’s not what I meant!” She whacked the boy over the head with a rolled-up newspaper. “What are you doing here?!”

She unfurled the paper, and Rin was once again confronted with his first year school photo displayed on the front page next to a picture of the wreckage at Senketsu High; the world’s grumpiest mugshot.

Rin briefly raised bleary eyes from the tabletop. He didn’t bother reading the headline. “Oh, right. That.”

“Don’t you ‘oh, right’ me, young man. What on earth happened?” The woman had paled. “Please don’t tell me it’s true. I don’t want to have to call the police into my shop!”

“Ms. Sato, please.” Rin had seized one of her hands in both his own and clung on. No longer so nonchalant, the dregs of fatigue and desperation were etched into his face; battle scars of two days’ non-stop strife. “It’s a very long story, but it’s not what they make it out to be.” Shifting some thick hair to the side, Rin revealed the slit of his third eye, much to the woman’s horror. “I’ll explain what you want, and I won’t make trouble. Just, please—” He deposited all the yen he had left onto the glass countertop— “get me whatever this buys. I’m practically begging you here.”

Sato’s expression abruptly softened. She clasped Rin’s hands in her own, she left them to rest on the table. Scooping the scattered coins into one hand, she placed them back down in a neat stack beside Rin and said, “I’ll have the usual ready in five minutes. What volume would you like this time?” She stepped out from behind the counter and scanned down the shelves of assorted classics and contemporaries alike.

“Nothing to read today,” Rin replied. “I’ve got a far better story to tell.”

* * *

The last time Kinuka had visited that café, she remembered, she and Rin had still been on speaking terms. Middle school seemed an age away, but tracing the familiar streets back to the boy’s haunt made the years fall away like it were yesterday. From the main street where they’d parted, Kinuka followed the side street to its end, huffed a little—hands on hips—when presented with a fork. She took a left, walked a further five minutes before realising she’d gone completely the wrong way. Why did all the alleys in this part of the city have to look so alike?

After a frustrating ten minute hike, she eventually found her way to Shiburusawa street. From there it was a hop, skip and a cautious traipse down a shady underpass until a familiar sign came into view. “Satozoto,” read a carved wooden sign above a black door with peeling paint. She couldn’t make out much beyond the windows—if it weren’t for the half-dimmed shutters, the bookcases would’ve still stood in her way. Still, the lights were on. How the little café was still in business was beyond her. Then again, that often seemed to be the case with certain local shops. Much like cult films, it didn’t matter how far you had to stray from the beaten track. Some always had an audience.

* * *

“You’re right. That is an interesting story.”

Ms. Sato perched on one of the lower shelves behind her, arms folded. In the time it took between the boy finishing his abridged recount of the recent insanity, and for said retelling to fully register with the woman, Rin managed to consume two small bowls of egg-fried rice.

“It’s not just a story,” Rin mumbled, munching moodily on a breadstick.

“It’s your word against everyone else’s,” the woman’s replied. “That said, I don’t want to believe what they say about you. That’s not the Rinkaku Harigane that first walked into my shop six years ago.”

The breadstick fell out of Rin’s hand. “You’ve been counting?”

Sato raised an eyebrow. “One of us had to. You’re the most eccentric customer I’ve had since ‘01.”

“Eccentric as in interesting and really cool?” Rin posed, hopeful.

“No.” She responded, flatly. “Eccentric, as in eccentric.”

Rin scowled.

“It’s not as though I could forget you, goodness no.” Sato continued. “Not after I had to drive you back home the first time you came here. Don’t you remember? You were eight, for heaven’s sake. You darkened my doorstep an hour before closing and refused to leave. You tried to convince me both your parents had been killed in an accident, declared this place as your new home, then promptly fell asleep on the sofa reading Yu Yu Hakusho.”

“Don’t remind me.” Rin grimaced and hugged one knee, eyes screwed shut.

“You were an awful liar, Harigane; still are,” the woman said. She unfolded her arms and rescued the boy’s bowls from being absentmindedly knocked to the floor. “That’s why I believe you.”

Rin looked up at her, awed. “For real?”

“I’d rather believe the nonsense you’ve just spouted about psychic powers and third eyes over accusations that you’ve decided to blow up your high school, let’s put it that way.”

“It’s not nonsense, Ms. Sato.” Another voice entered the shop. Kinuka stood in the doorway. It truly had been some time. She smiled at the older woman, before continuing with, “I can confirm everything to the letter.”

“Well, I never.” A smile graced the woman’s face. “Have you two finally made up?” She asked.

At the befuddled look Kinuka gave her, Ms. Sato followed up with, “You stopped coming here three years ago. I asked, because I’m a ‘nosy old crone,’ apparently—” She shot Rin a glare— “and this little cretin said you two suffered a falling out. He looked pretty ashamed about it, too, so I assumed it was his fault.”

“You witch! I did not!”

“Indoor voices, child.”

Rin’s scowl intensified. “I did not.” He repeated, quieter.

Kinuka had to suppress a laugh so her answer could be even remotely earnest. “Rin hasn’t apologised to me yet,” she said, sitting beside him, “but he’s somehow managed to rope me into another mess to make up for the fact.”

Ms. Sato glared at him. “You failed to mention that part.” Each word was measured out, sharpened with killing intent.

Rin went white. “I was getting to it!”

“It doesn’t matter.” The woman sighed. “Miss Amibari seems to have forgiven your sorry behind, at least on the surface, so she’s clearly grown up a lot more than you have.”

Rin attempted to avoid the reprimand with the ostrich approach, attempting to bury his face into the table in the absence of any suitable patch of sand.

“How are you, Ms. Sato?” Kinuka asked. She smiled sweetly at the older woman, despite every urge telling her to garrote Rin with his own clothing and drag him from the premises, willingly or otherwise. Time was ticking on, after all. “It’s been a while. I’m sorry for not coming to visit.”

“Oh, you are a sweetheart. No apologies necessary.” Ms. Sato waved away the girl’s concern. “You were a delight to have, but I could tell you were never one for manga—save for a select few.” A smirk tugged at the woman’s lips, and Kinuka felt her cheeks brighten.

“In any case,” Ms. Sato continued. “I can tell you all about the mundanities of my life some other time, perhaps when you’re not fighting for your own? These people after you sound unpleasant.”

Kinuka nodded, and decided the time was right. “You’re right. We have somewhere to be. Don’t we, Rin?”

The boy didn’t meet her gaze, but gasped as the threads of his school blazer wrapped tight around his throat. One end flew into Kinuka’s outstretched hand; a makeshift dog leash. She gave the end a sharp tug, and Rin promptly toppled backwards off his chair.

“Oh, do be gentle with him,” Ms. Sato cautioned, in complete ignorance of Rin spluttering desperately against his bonds. “Yourselves aside, I’ve had a lot of students here over the years; I always liked the Senketsu uniform. It’d be a shame to see it get torn. I was sure you’d feel the same about such sentimental clothing, Miss Amibari. After all, aren’t you wearing one of Rinkaku’s sweatshirts?”

What followed was about the hastiest goodbye Kinuka could possibly manage, as she dragged Rin like a struggling sack of potatoes through the door and down the street. The folds of the accursed white garment were all she had to hand to hide the blush on her face. The last thing she heard after the doorbell announced their departure was Ms. Sato’s gentle laugh, not forgetting Rin’s strangled cries as he started to go puce.

That was another reason she’d stopped coming to Satozoto. The woman in question had always been able to see through her intentions far too well.

* * *

Nowhere, a place that didn’t exist, held a room with no name. Dimly lit, the air in the room hung heavy and loitered, gloomy, as the shifting shadows on the wall danced around in an odd, syncopated rhythm like pictures in a zoetrope. The room wasn’t home to darkness only; there was also a long table. A crystal ball sat perfectly balanced at the centre, showing a scene, an on-going film. Two teenagers fought the pedestrian current along a bustling city street. Sat around it were a group of ten, shrouded features illuminated for brief flashes as they all stared, glassy eyed, into the one source of light.

“Seems they’re on the move,” one man idly commented. “Took ‘em long enough.” He had messy black hair and a handsome, unshaven complexion. He slumped forward on his chair, resting his head on folded arms and staring, bored, at the projection. “Did you call us here just so we could stare at your balls?” He looked further up the table.

“Not just that.” Hideyori Hakana tipped up the brim of his hat, revealing devilishly sharp features. “If you’d rather be somewhere else, Meguru, feel free. I’ll just have to let the boss know, is all. No consequences, right?”

Meguru Yoha tensed slightly, but said nothing more.

Hideyori addressed the rest. “Everyone,” he said, unfolding his arms in a welcoming gesture; the feeling wasn’t matched by the rest of the room. “Thanks for coming here on such short notice—I take it you’ve heard the news.”

No-one at the table said a word. Hideyori sighed. “It’s like talking to a cemetery,” he mumbled to himself. As though nothing was wrong, he carried on.

“We’ve got orders from above,” he said. “That kid with the black hair—that’s Rinkaku Harigane, son of the Egyptologist who discovered the Tomb.” the image in the crystal ball shifted, zooming in towards Rin. “The boss wants him taken alive: him, and the Ascension Blade fragment he’s carrying.”

“Ooh, he’s cute,” said one girl.

“This child?” Said another, much older-looking woman. “He looks weak. Why us? Surely this is something the boss is capable of by himself.”

Hideyori flashed her a grin. “Ask him yourself if you’d like, Mokuzo.”

The woman inhaled through gritted teeth. “I’d rather keep my life, thanks.”

His grin disappeared. “Then shut up.” He looked around the table. “Any other objections?”

“Wait,” Meguru said, perking up a little. He pointed at the orb. “Hakana, zoom in on that girl. Just thought of something; could’ve sworn I was imagining it when I first saw her.”

Hideyori raised an eyebrow but obliged. He waved his hand over the orb, and the perspective within shifted.

“Look at that face,” said Meguru, pointing from the orb to Hideyori and back again. “You sure she ain’t your kid or something? That’s some fuckin’ resemblance right there!”

His comment sparked a couple of murmurs around the table, as a few turned and whispered things to their neighbour.

Hideyori gave him a sour glare.

Meguru put up both hands in his own defence.

“What’s that face for?” He asked. “I’ve got a point, don’t I?” He gestured around the room for support.

In this light, it seemed that the man did indeed have a point. Then again, it could just be the light.

“This point of yours being?” Hideyori couldn’t have looked less moved if he had tried. The exasperation on his face was palpable.

“My point?” Meguru sighed, “is that y’all need to lighten the fuck up!” He let his head fall back into his arms and groaned. “If the boss wants the kid captured so bad, just do it already. Jeez, it’s too early and I’m tired. Y’all got me out of bed for nothing at this rate!”

“Is that your way of volunteering?” Asked Hideyori, a little amused. “It’d be a nice change from you doing nothing save for complaining.”

“Not on your life, hat man,” Meguru grumbled into the velvet tablecloth. “As soon as this is over, I’m going back to bed.”

Hideyori shrugged. “Was worth an attempt.”

“If this is all so tiresome for you, Mr Yoha,” chided an older man, “then do us all a courtesy and leave.”

“Fuck off, old man.” Meguru swore in his general direction.

“Damn you!” A surly figure sat to Hideyori’s left growled and banged the table. “Show some respect for once.”

“Save your breath, Atsura,” Hideyori said, patting the man on the shoulder. It seemed he was used to Meguru’s choice interruptions, or at least tolerated them for the sake of professionalism. “Besides, neither of you are doing a good job of endearing us to our new recruit.”

“New recruit?” Atsura asked. Hideyori nodded. He gestured to the far end of the table, where another sat, his head bowed. He looked young, close cropped black hair and a suit that looked freshly tailored.

“You’ll get your chance to introduce yourself afterwards, kid,” he said. “Promise you we don’t bite—well,” he paused, grinning again, “most of us don’t, anyway.”

“Where’d you find this one, Mr Hakana?” The girl from earlier asked, appraising the boy as though she fancied eating him, or worse. He met her gaze for a split second, quickly wishing he hadn’t.

“Oh, shit!” Meguru’s interest was piqued yet again. “You’re that kid from the bar! He’s the one, yeah?” Meguru looked to Hideyori for confirmation. “Was wondering what a nerd like you was doing there!”

“While you were busy chatting up the poor waitress,” Hideyori said, “I was doing my job.”

“Not my fault she was so hot,” was the off-hand response.

“Do you always have to be so vulgar?'' asked the woman called Mokuzo.

Meguru either didn’t care or hadn’t heard her. He slouched back in his chair and was playing with a cigarette lighter he had stolen off of Hideyori half an hour prior. One swift hand later from the man in question, however, and his distraction was gone.

“Hey!”

Hideyori clicked the lighter tauntingly, pocketing it the next instant. Meguru started sulking. For a few more seconds, you could’ve heard a pin drop. The silence was broken when the older man from earlier cleared his throat.

“Are we boring you, Yoshine?” Asked Hideyori.

The man pushed a pair of wireframe glasses further up the bridge of his nose, the lenses glinting as they caught the light. “The boy Rinkaku and his little lady friend. Are they alone?”

“There’s another,” said Hideyori. “Tegata Kage.” In tune with the man’s thoughts, it seemed, the vision in the crystal ball shifted to show a motionless still of the boy. “Might be familiar to some of you?”

“The Theia Subject,” Yoshine recognised. “Does the boss want him retrieved as well?”

Hideyori shrugged. “He didn’t specify. I suspect he would’ve if the kid meant anything in the grand scheme.”

“How shall we approach him and the girl?”

Hideyori grinned. “However you please.”

The man nodded.

“Speaking of Kage,” Meguru said. “What happened to Techukara? Those two were pretty cute t’gether. Ain’t she s'posed to be here today?”

Hideyori grinned. “She’s been deployed.”

“Deployed?”

“That means she’s been set to task, Yoha,” commented Yoshine. “Not that you’d know, of course.” This netted a few chuckles from around the table.

“Whilst you were busy complaining about us not doing our jobs,” Hideyori said, “I already had her on the scene. She’s in position now, as a matter of fact.”

“That’s bullshit. Don’t lie. You’re just mad I got one over on you.”

“Bullshit, eh?” Hideyori raised an eyebrow. He reached out towards the crystal ball. It wobbled for a moment, before it shrunk and flew into his open palm. He shook it like a snow globe, and the image within became cloudy as swirling patterns of ink shifted beneath the depths. The man handed it to Meguru. “Take a look.”

Now, there was a new image. The perspective descended on some empty rooftops. A girl with dark hair sat nestled into a corner, deathly still.

Hideyori leaned over and asked, “you there, buttercup?”

“Yes, sir.” An immediate response. “Ready on your command.” Her delivery was monotone, almost robotic.

“Well?” Hideyori stared at Meguru. “Still want to call my bluff?”

Meguru scowled and handed the orb back.

“That’s what I thought.” Hideyori clenched his fist and the orb disappeared. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his gun and loaded it. The click of the chamber echoed around the room, and a few people gasped. Hideyori pointed the gun at Meguru’s forehead. “Doubt my leadership again, Meguru, I dare you; in fact, I double dare you.”

Meguru said nothing.

“Do fuck all, laze around, act like you’re untouchable all you want—that’s not my problem. You may be the boss’ favourite, but don’t forget who’s in charge here. Get in the way of my work and you’re going to pay the price. Do I make myself clear?”

The lack of response seemed appropriate enough for Hideyori. Still with gun in hand, his aim roamed the table, focusing on each member in turn as he spoke.

“Same goes for the rest of you, especially you, kid.” This, to the new hire. The boy visibly stiffened in his seat. “Reason I called you all here, apart from informing you of the situation, of course, is to remind you that the boss doesn’t accept failure—and neither do I. You lot were chosen to sit at this table, but don’t let it get to your head. If any of you screw up, it’ll be your heads on the—”

He paused. There was laughter; subtle at first, of course, until you noticed it. Everyone turned to stare at a man halfway down the table who was evidently finding it very hard to keep a straight face.

“Think I’m being funny, do you?”

The moment he locked eyes with Hideyori, the laughter ceased. Hideyori kept staring, silent and serious. The man began to sweat.

All of a sudden, Hideyori’s face broke out into a mirthful grin, and the man began to chuckle! It took a second, but the other followed suit. This, however, was not the same laugh as before. This was a nervous laugh. As he kept at it, however, the worry faded, as the man realised it was all for nothing.

No-one else dared say a word. Even Meguru Yoha sat dead still.

The laughter only escalated until both parties were practically banging their fists on the table in fits of hysterics.

“Seems that—” Hideyori wheezed, “none of you idiots can take a joke!” He tipped his head back. “You seriously think I’d follow through on a threat like that? Honestly.”

“You—You got us good, boss!” The man said, a relieved grin stretched from ear to ear. “For a second, I thought you were—”

Bang!

The blank walls were suddenly painted in a spray of blood. A second’s pause, and the man slumped forward in his chair. His head hit the table with a thud, a hole piercing right where his third eye had once been.

Hideyori Hakana wasn’t smiling anymore.

“Anyone else think I’m being funny?”

The silence hung heavier in the air than the foul taste of iron.

“Good,” the man nodded and pocketed the smoking gun, rising from his chair and throwing back on his overcoat. “You’re all dismissed. I suggest you make yourselves useful.”

No-one dared move as Hideyori left the room. He opened his palm and summoned back the orb from before and spoke to the person on the other end.

“Now’s your time to shine, darling.”