XCEL

Their journey was disconcertingly seamless. Hakana’s uncanny teleportation was a technique he had developed on his own. His Specialty, “Moment,” let him create pocket dimensions inside glass orbs of variable size. This was predominantly utilised for replaying and analysing past events, created from either his own memory, or that of others. He could observe the scene through the lens of the orb itself, or could step into the orb, walking among the trees, observing from other perspective as many times as he wished. Crucially, he could extrapolate scenes into the future, changing minor variables each time and seeing how events could have played out. Critically, Moments were illustrated using Hakana’s own imagination, and actualised through his psychic energy. So long as he imagined the scene, he could visualise it inside an orb.

Moments didn’t always need pre-recorded content. Far less taxing on his psychic energy, Hakana could create a blank moment. By itself, that wasn’t much use: inside lay a perpetual void. In it, however, he could store physical objects. He could even bring other people into the orb, or trap them within. Physical objects trapped inside could be retrieved; imaginary objects, while interactable within the Moment, could not be taken out.

Importantly, when an orb is discarded or shattered, the contents of the Moment still existed. Each Moment exists independently as a separate space in the cognitive world. The physical glass orbs act like gateways. Having made two copies of the same Moment, by diving into one, Hakana can choose which orb to emerge from. He has since streamlined the process, such that he passes instantly through one and out the other.

Thus, teleportation.

Hideyori Hakana’s office was as eccentric as the man himself. Dark and picturesque, the wood-panelled walls of the hexagonal room were sparingly lined with full-scale impressionist landscapes, artwork he definitely hadn’t appropriated from several prestigious art galleries for his own appreciation (the series of international art theft scandals years prior were pure coincidence, he'd assure you.) Always with an eye for the finer things, the man spared no expense. A small, sleek laptop had been carefully positioned next to an engraved fountain pen and stack of writing paper on the large mahogany desk, the centrepiece of the room. A side-table bore a stack of calligraphy papers, a tightly sealed bottle of ink and brushes of descending sizes clipped neatly into place. A brass telescope stood to one side, next to a cabinet stacked with all manner of curios. Natural light blessed the room through the domed, stained-glass ceiling. A large french window stood behind the desk, beyond which loomed the edge of a cliff, overlooking a tumultuous, windswept seascape. Grey, overcast skies rolled overhead, and a late afternoon sun began to set in the west, casting tranquil golds and purples across the cold, cloud canvas. It was his own domain, after all; Hakana could customise the outside appearance to however he wished.

For this room was yet another Moment.

Hakana and Sakazuki both emerged from an orb set into an ornate door. That door didn’t open, it served no purpose by itself, much like the door in Nowhere that held a copy. Hakana whisked off his fedora, tossing it neatly onto a nearby hatstand. The man promptly swept around the edge of the room, nicking dust off a shelf where a few further orbs lay on individual pedestals and gazing into a few of them in passing.

Sakazuki blinked, taking in such an abrupt change of scenery, the sinister executive’s eclectic tastes on full display. “Where are we?”

“My place. Can’t remember the last time someone from the organisation was invited here. Make yourself at—” Hakana was cut off, as he coughed up another storm into his elbow once again.

Sakazuki started, eyes wide. “Are you okay?”

“Don’t worry about me—” Hakana thumped on his chest, wheezing a little. “Find yourself somewhere to sit. There’s a lot on my mind.” Wiping his mouth with one hand, he grimaced at the bloody sight before cleaning his hands with a handkerchief.

“I can tell.” Sakazuki spotted a sleek, winged armchair sat in front of the man’s desk where there hadn’t been one moments ago. Expecting answers soon, she took one wary look around the place before lowering herself down.

Pulling out one of the wall panels to reveal a hanging wardrobe, Hakana disrobed and hung up his coat. Tugging at the pullover around his neck, eye twitching, he eventually decided to remove that too, placing it on another hanger and sliding the whole contraption back into place. Sakazuki stared wondrously at the executive. Never seen without his hat, coat, and wicked glint in his singular eye, Hideyori Hakana had suddenly stripped himself of those few crucial layers. The man, lean yet muscular, adjusted his collared shirt, undid one of the top buttons with a sigh, and rolled up both sleeves. Running a large comb through his hair—wincing at the kinks—he eventually sifted it straight enough to be satisfied. Tying it back into a singular, extremely long ponytail, Hakana flipped it over the back of his chair as the man finally sat down.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” His tone had deflated slightly, a little of its drawl-soaked exuberance fading. “This must be pretty overwhelming.”

Sakazuki nodded, folding both hands over her lap.

“I’ll start with the questions, then.” Hakana leant forward in his chair, interlacing his fingers. “Do you know who I am?”

“Hideyori Hakana, sir. You’re the executive operations manager in charge of the Glass Eyes.”

“Can you still remember your name?”

“... Kiyosumi Sakazuki.”

“Other personal details? Doesn’t have to be exhaustive.”

She eyed him, suspicious, then sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I was born in Kyoto on the twenty-first of June, 1983—” Hideyori’s eye widened slightly— “and I work for JPRO's psychology division in Tokyo.”

“Before just now, what’s your last distinct memory?”

“Distinct?” Sakazuki’s gaze unfocused, deep in thought, chin in hand. “I was treating… a little girl.” She blinked, frowning. “Kinuka.”

Hakana covered his mouth, mumbling, “what a small world.”

“She was the sweetest little thing, only around eight or so years old. She had blond hair, just like mine. Her parents were worried that she was haunted—she was seeing spirits. That must’ve been ten or so years ago now.”

“Ten years?”

“Yes, that’s correct. And then…” She sighed. “I’m sorry. It’s all a blur from that point on.”

“Your last distinct memory before I jolted you back in the Atrium was ten years ago…” The man bit his lip, in slight disbelief. “I knew they’d done something to you—not just you, either. I’ve seen a lot of the employs walk around with that vacant expression, those cold, automated responses.”

Hakana cleared his throat, and ended up coughing some more as a result. “Miss Sakazuki—I’m afraid to say you’ve been operating under a fugue state for the past decade.”

She didn’t dare call his bluff. It all made too much sense. “What was I doing… beforehand?”

“Your job, just like everybody else.” Hakana sighed and leant back in his chair. “You’ve been living, but only just. You do what’s asked of you; you eat, sleep and interact like normal. However, there’s some part of you that’s absent. The you I’m talking to now is a far cry from the ‘you’ I’ve known in passing for so long. However, this ‘you’ feels true.”

“Then, you’re saying I’ve been forcibly dissociated, by something or by someone?”

He raised an eyebrow. A smirk crept back onto his lips. “I forget—you’re much more qualified at this than I am.”

“Mr Hakana, why did you wake me?”

“Ungrateful, are we?” The man idly examined the nails on the back of his hand. “I’m almost offended.”

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

“Joking—” He clarified. “There was a reason. A few, actually.” He raised a finger. “First, I don’t see many like us, do you? I’m talking about your eyes, and your hair.” He tugged at a lock of his own. “We have the exact same shade for both: a foreign colour, unnatural. You get pointed at by the little ones, treated as a half-and-half. I confess, I’ve been too caught up in other matters to take notice up until recently. However, once I saw it, I couldn’t quite look away.”

Her brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I have another question. You have quite the interesting history with the organisation, don’t you? After all, you started just a little before me. Your Specialty.” Hakana raised another finger. “You awakened to your powers without even having seen the boss’ Ascension Blade, didn’t you?”

Tentatively, she nodded. “They developed on their own. I felt my soul awakened by some kind of ripple. After my powers awakened, and the organisation found out, I was promoted to the executive branch and resumed work, presumably under close supervision. I’m afraid that’s about where my recollection ends.”

“I’d say you’re one of hundreds that suffered from this particular state.” Hakana hummed. “It allows the employs to keep working, but ensures they ask no questions. A particular part of the soul must’ve been suppressed, put to sleep—Overpowered.” He made a thoughtful noise. “Just how JPRO as a company has been able to keep operating for so long is something I once wondered from the other side. I had assumed it was negligence, that the people working here didn’t care enough to whistleblow. As with all things, the situation’s more complicated than just that. Ironically enough, I’d say the only employees unaffected by this are my Glass Eyes.” He hummed, singular eye roaming over the psychologist. He raised a third and final finger. “Miss Sakazuki. Why did you join JPRO to begin with?”

“I assure my patients during sessions that information shared remains confidential.” She fixed the man with an intense stare. “Can I trust you to do the same?”

“Normally, I’d say no.” Hakana smirked. “But, this situation’s a little different. Nothing leaves this Moment.”

Slowly, she nodded. “Ever since I was a little girl, I always felt someone else’s presence, albeit far away; there was this thread I couldn’t see, connecting me to someone. I don’t tell many this, but I was adopted shortly after birth. My parents told me nothing else; they assured me there was nothing else to tell. I never quite believed them, but I could never find this other person. I trained as a psychologist after leaving school; it just so happened that my intuition led me to JPRO. I had the impression that there, I’d find who I’d been looking for.” She looked back, and her eyes widened. The evening sun revealed the man in a whole other light. Her jaw dropped.

The man wore a sad smile. “My name’s Hideyori Hakana. I was born in Kyoto on the twenty-first of June, 1983.” He nodded, solemn. “I never left that orphanage. They once told me I had a sister, a couple hours older; nothing more. Seems you were the favourite of us both.” He chuckled. “Growing up, they did always call me a creepy kid.”

She stood from her chair. “Oh, I don’t believe it—”

“It’s as you’ve likely known all along.” Hakana opened his arms wide. “You’ve found me, big sister.”

Sakazuki stared down at him, and took a deep breath in. “Then, forgive me for going against company superiority. Stand up.”

Brow furrowed, he stood. The man shook his head a little, confused at his own abrupt compliance. A lump had formed in his throat.

“Come.” Sakazuki motioned towards her. Curious, he stepped out from behind his desk and approached, hands in his trouser pockets. She stepped towards him, and put her arms out. His eyes widened, his breathing raspy as he felt her gentle embrace. He lifted his arms a little by his sides, yet didn’t reciprocate. Those fifteen awkward seconds of silence felt like an eternity before—

“What are you doing?”

“I always told myself that the moment I found this person, I’d give them a hug,” Sakazuki confessed. “If I really am your older sister—even if it's only by a few hours—then this…” She elapsed into a few more seconds of silence. “It feels like the right thing to do.”

Hakana held his forehead and sighed. “You’ve had your moment. I’m still your superior.”

“Sorry.” Threading her arms back out, the woman took a step or two back and sighed. “Um, I’m not too sure what to say.”

“Nor me.” Hakana averted his gaze, biting down on his bottom lip. “I’ll confess, that’s not how I anticipated this going.”

Sakazuki cleared her throat. “You had another question for me.”

Hakana blinked. “That’s right.” Walking past her, he pulled out another panel on the wall to reveal an extensive drinks cabinet. Bottles of all sizes, shapes and colours gleamed in the weak sunlight filtering down through the stained glass. “Sit back down, we might be here a while. What can I get you?”

“To drink?” She sunk back down into the armchair. Her legs felt leaden. Her heart beat slowly, thumping against her stomach. “I’d… need a whisky, if you had any.”

Hakana grinned. “Seven or twenty-one year?”

“This is a special occasion, isn’t it?”

“I’d say so.” Hakana took a bottle of twenty-one year old Hibiki whisky and a couple lowball glasses from the shelf. Pouring a small measure into each one, he set the bottle between them and sat back down.

“Your Specialty, I’ve seen the detailing. You seem the best person to ask about the Soul, so I’ll cut to the chase. What’s most likely to happen if someone has their memory erased?”

“The mind is incredible in its ability to fabricate whatever it needs to in order to function. For small gaps in memory, our studies have shown that the mind is liable to fill in the gaps with surrounding detail, creating a version of events that’s seamless to the individual, but differs from reality.”

Hakana pondered her response, fingers interlaced, elbows propped up on his chair. “I see.”

“Does that answer your question?”

“It does more than just that. It confirms my suspicions.” He reached for his glass of whisky and drained it, swilling the liquid around before smacking his lips. “Some good stuff,” he commented, swirling the dregs around his otherwise empty tumbler.

Sakazuki took a sip from her own, and nodded.

Pouring himself another measure, Hakana continued, “What I’m about to tell you mustn’t leave this Moment. It’s information that your superiors won’t exactly want you to know. However, it’ll be useful to have—” He chewed his words a little— “an ally, let’s say. Moreover, you’ll have quite an important act to keep up from now on. You can’t let yourself fall back into that fugue state, but you mustn’t let them know you’ve woken up. We clear on that?”

“I’ll do my best.” Sakazuki sipped at her whisky. “You’re right; good stuff.” As though remembering, the corners of her lips twisted into a smirk of her own, one that scarily resembled her brother’s. “And don’t worry. The information a patient tells me during our sessions remains strictly confidential.”

Hakana’s smirk elongated into a full-on grin. “Then, let’s begin.”