Chapter 29: Expeditions and New Beginnings
The expedition was ready. Supplies were dolled out, bags were packed, straps tightened, and determined expressions fixed in place. Gremlin marched down the ranks, examining the small group under a careful eye. Satisfied, she stood before them, puffing out her chest, proudly.
"Desu-," she whispered in a mock shout, only to freeze as a loud snort interrupted her.
Musashi groaned in his sleep, turning over in bed. The mattress shook beneath the motley crew as he tried to find a new position. Eventually, he came to rest on his shoulder, body propped up vertically on his side. This wouldn't have been a problem, except that the pillows were ancient looking things who had lost their fluffiness long ago. And given the sheer broadness of his shoulders, there was no earthly way they could support his bridge. It hung at almost a ninety degree angle, making the entire group cringe.
For a moment, it seemed the awkward position would force the battleship awake. They stood in breathless anticipation. Then the mattress shook with a deep, rumbling snore as Musashi slumbered on.
The Captain considered waking him up to at least change positions; she could only imagine the neck pain he'd have tomorrow. But he hadn't been sleeping well as it was! Ever since he was kicked by that damned cow he'd been... well, the Captain could sympathize, but his attitude was hardly befitting of a battleship.
She shivered, remember the first time he'd snapped. The fear and sheer panic that shot across their bond was enough to paralyze the whole crew. She couldn't understand it! After weathering an entire enemy fleet, single-handedly what could possibly scare Musashi?
But this made their mission all the more important!
Drawing herself up again, she opened her mouth... then winced as Musashi stirred again.
Grumbling under her breath about constant interruptions, she ushered the expedition off the bed and out of the large bedroom. On the landing outside, they carefully swung the door shut, holding their breath as it clicked shut, loudly. Not another sound came from inside.
Sighing in relief, the Captain ordered them back into ranks, puffed out her chest and began her speech anew. Never before had they undertook a mission like this, but never before had the need been so dire!
"Desu!" she cried, pointing at the closed door. Their battleship was suffering! This could not be allowed to stand! On this day they would set out for the ultimate cure! A mystical creature to bring luck and good fortune! Clever and wise in equal measure! A creature of floof and cuddles!
In the ranks, the other Fairies exchanged glances before a Lieutenant raised her stub, confused. "Desu?"
"Desu!" The Captain shot back, irritability. No, she was not talking about a kitsume! They were hunting cat tonight!
They all ahhed in understand, then raised their tiny rifles and cheered.
From the beyond the door, Musashi snorted again, cutting off their jubilation as they listened breathlessly. Only when the snoring resumed did they sigh in relief.
Shouldering her pack, the Captain opened her mouth to proclaim a start to the expedition... only to think better of it, grumpily motioning the crew onward in silence. A simple gesture didn't have the same effect as commands delivered at the top of your lungs.
Next time, she promised herself. Next time.
But there was little time to dwell on that as they approached their first obstacle. The Captain slowed to a halt, eyes narrowing dangerously. Behind her, the rest of the expedition stared up in awe and resolve, even if they were dwarfed in it's shadow.
"Desu," the Captain proclaimed, leading the way. Nothing would stand in their way! Not even their worst enemy!
Stairs!
It took thirty minutes of standing on each other's shoulders, climbing, swearing, and getting kicked in the head more times than she could count, but they eventually found themselves at the top. After cursing the builders to an untimely retirement, the courageous Captain led them on down the short hallway into the kitchen. The cupboards and counters, while normal sized for Musashi, towered over the tiny crewmen like they marched through the city of giants. Some members of the expedition, lower ranking marines who have never been outside before, looked around in dumbstruck awe.
The Captain merely grumbled under her breath. The things weren't nearly as majestic when you falling off them. Stupid Musashi and his doing dishes. Along with Japanese, she would have to teach him proper decorum and manners!
But that could wait! The quest for floof would not be waylaid any longer!
Nodding resolutely, she led her crew across the Kitchen and down the steps in the entry vestibule. The rough rugs were caked with old mug and grime as the Fairies advanced, their pace slowing as they stared down their next obstacle. A monolithic slab of wood, embedded with faded glass, and protected by tumblers who's key were lost to time. Taunting the noble travellers with what it represented; the last barrier between Musashi's – and the crew's – well being.
The Captain glared, willing the obstacle to fold under her unwavering will!
But the front door of the house was not so easily swayed.
"Desu?" One of the crewmen piped up, eagerly, holding a pack of explosives aloft.
"Desu," the Captain groused. They couldn't go blowing up the place, as that was a good way to upset mama-slipway. An involuntary shiver suddenly went down her little spine at the thought. This new Musashi had a cold rage when roused, but she didn't want to imagine the temper his creator could muster if her home was vandalized.
Not even floof would be worth that fate.
Still, there were sounds of disappointment as the explosives were packed away.
What followed was the ultimate trial of balance, strength, and endurance. Musashi might have been weird, but that hadn't affected the raw determination, nor the skill of his crew as they set their plan in motion!
"Desu!" the Captain cried, pinwheeling her arms to keep her balance as the Fairies beneath her swayed, dangerously. Standing on each other's shoulders, one on top of the either, the expedition could reach an impressive three feet in height, with the Captain rightfully on top. However, she reflected it might not have been the best idea as tower swayed like a reed in a windstorm. It didn't help that the poor Fairy at the bottom was staggering back and forth under the weight, making the wobble worse.
"Desu!" she ordered, pointing toward the door. Their source of locomotion complied, staggering towards the obstruction. As momentum carried the lower bodies of the stack forward, the Captain yelped as she found herself falling back, suspended over empty air by the pair of stubs around her ankles. "Desu! Desu!"
"DESU!" The Fairy on the bottom shrieked angrily.
After a while of being waved around like a flag, the stack finally found the door. And with sound of triumph, Gremlin seized the massive door knob and gave it a turn.
The massive door swung inward.
The Fairies cheered! Only to start yelping in alarm as the swinging door knocked them over, scattering crewmen in all directions. But the fall hardly damped their spirits! The dark night beyond the open portal beckoned, and across the open field of concrete the old barn where their goal resided sat, shrouded in shadow.
The Captain posed heroically on the doorstep, allowing the Fairy photographer to snap a picture before leading them out into the darkness.
The cool night air was refreshing, their pace quickened as victory loomed ahead. The Captain was almost trembling with excitement. She could almost feel that soft, white floof beneath her stubs, the prestige and fame that would come with having a cat on board! Victory was at hand!!
A low clucking sound stopped the expedition dead in their tracks, right on the doorstep of the garage. Flowers and small shrubs ringed the decrepit building, attempting to hide the crumbling foundation under a layer of green. But among those stalks and leaves, their were many... things. Even in the darkness they stood out as lumps of brown and white. And as they watched, a long head emerged from one of the lumps and a single beady eye watched them warily.
The Fairies all sighed in relief as they recognized it.
Just a Chicken.
The feathery creature clucked to itself, twisting it's head back and forth as it regard the group,
"Desu!" Not one to be deterred, the Captain strode forward, shooing the animal away as she headed for the largest crack in the foundation. No silly bird was going to get between them and cat! "Desu!"
Her shouting only served to wake up the others, and soon half a dozen sets beady eyes watched them, heads cocked.
"Desu," the Captain tried again, trying to slap the bird away with the power of her mind! Unfortunately, no such power existed. As she came to realized her sphere of influence only existed in and around Musashi, the Chicken suddenly rose to it's feet.
Suddenly it was much taller than she expect. Much, much taller.
"D-Desu," she tried, taking a careful step back as she became the bird's undivided target. "Des-"
The Chicken's head shot out and Gremlin jumped back with a screech as the beak missed her by an inch.
RETREAT!!!
The expedition scattered, their high pitched cries rousing the rest of the birds. One raised her rifle, only for the Captain to slap it down, screaming that they couldn't shoot mama-slipways chickens! What short of hell would she unleash upon them if they did that?! There was nothing else to be done but sprint for the safety of the house as chickens began rushing out of the darkness for an early breakfast.
"Uncle William?"
William groaned as something poked his arm. After last night he was thoroughly exhausted. A sentiment not shared by his crew, apparently. The Fairies were on high alert; short of his rigging manifesting, they were at full battle stations for... what?
"Uncle William, wake up."
"I am up," he grumbled, mentally dragging himself back into the waking world. He was on his back, splayed out over his too small bed. But following the source of the poking, he turned his head to see his Nieces and Nephews clustered at his bedside.
"What?" he groaned. "Ain't you even seen a sleeping battleship before?"
Christopher broke down giggling. Eli wasn't far behind, but he had the good grace to point at the source. And following his finger, William glanced down and... came nose to beak with a chicken. At least six of the cluckers were nestled on his chest, staring down at him with cocked heads and beady eyes.
He blinked. "What, you bring me breakfast in bed?"
Christopher broke down, doubling over with a shriek of laughter.
"We found them like this," Christa informed him. "But now you can't move them."
"Oh?" Now wide awake, William shot her smirk. "Why not?"
"Because they're getting ready to lay eggs," she pointed out, raising her chin. "And you can't interrupt a chicken laying eggs otherwise they get all scrambled."
That only made her brother laugh louder. "They don't lay scrambled eggs!"
As the two fell to bickering, William looked back at his feathery problem. The chickens stared back, showing a lot of nerve for walking snacks. Funny thing was he could have sworn he shut the door last night. Emotional wreck or not, there were some things so ingrained they bordered on robotic.
Either way, they were freaking out the crew for some reason. He hoped Gremlin had a lesson plan ready because the language barrier was really getting on his nerves.
He yawned, expansively. "Well, I am really hungry, you guys. I could really go for some nuggets – ohno!"
With a wide sweep of his arm the chickens were scooped up and flung away. The fact they were aimed at the three kids was purely coincidental. "Oh no, there they go! Catch them before they start running!"
Christa shrieked, covering his face as she was buried under a storm of flapping wings. Her brothers, on the other hand, merely shied away to weather the barrage, laughing the whole time. It was music to William's ears, but right then they had a bigger problem.
"No! I wasn't joking, they're getting away!"
He dove off the bed, making a grab for one of the feathery bastards, managing to grab the tip of it's tail before it could vanish under the bed. It's squawk of protest sent his Fairies on the bridge into a fit of cheering bloodlust.
As he wrangled his Nephews into the chicken catching brigade – Christa had run upstairs, still screaming – William realized he felt... lighter, somehow. The silence was still there, hiding beneath the shrieks of delight. But as they tossed the last of the chickens outside and had to explain the noise to bunch of grumpy parents, the world itself seemed to be cast in a new light.
His family, the farm, his Nieces and Nephews... they felt more real than ever. As did the steel of his hull and the antics of the Fairies inside.
But now, instead of a sharp contrast, the two aspects of his life seemed to compliment each other. And with his promises last night still fresh in his mind, he realized what it was.
He was enjoying himself.
He could look at Eli and not feel a shred of guilt. He could laugh and talk without the crippling dread from above. And yet, nothing inside seemed to change. He still found himself staring into those dark corners during breakfast, places were the silence lurked. There was still the fear of what hung above him.
But now there was the understanding that it was not his to share. Why poison their memories of him even further?
The Northern conflict seemed to beckon, his promise to Eli drawing him closer. And once he took that first step, there was a good chance he would never come back. So he would treasure the time he had left; treat each day like it was his last, so when the time came he could look Death in the eye and say he had no further regrets.
Death, at least, was easier to face than his nightmares.
It was no longer his office. It was a strange thought, but one Goto had no choice but to confront. He'd had his personal belongings cleared out ages ago, anticipating this very moment. Now that it was upon him, he realized just how empty it made him feel.
The maps on the walls still displayed the fleet movements, the bases, the sorties, ready for the next man in line to carry on his work. Never again would he command the might of Japan's Kanmusu. Never again would he sit in this office as it's Admiral.
It would be the last time he ever sat in this chair again.
Strange thing to add onto his woes, but considering the amount of torment that chair went through on an almost daily basis, Goto couldn't help but appreciate it's existence. He didn't know where it had come from, it had been in the office when he was first appointed as the Admiral. It deserved a Purple Heart for weathering years of tackle hugs and other Kongou related shenanigans.
Leaning back, hearing the old springs creak as he stared up at the ceiling, Goto wished he could take it with him. But an angry huff shattered the moment. He glanced down to the battleship pacing a hole through the floor.
"Vice Admiral? They demoted you to Vice Admiral?!"
Kongou was mad.
Very mad.
Not something you expected out the bouncy battleship, but these had been strange times. And this wasn't any regular anger, no. it was the kind of rage that brought out Kongou's roots in force. To the uneducated, she was just another Japanese made battleship; laid down, build, and commissioned in the homeland. Her whole attitude did nothing to dispel that, and if not for her obsession with tea it would have been believable.
It was only when she got angry – truly angry – that her voice dipped back into it's British ancestry.
And right then she could give Warspite a run for her money.
"They demoted you? After everything you've done for Japan they demote you?!" She paused in her pacing, lost for words as she made vague strangling motions with her hands. "Of all the nerve! They throw out one of their greatest heroes? For what?!"
Goto was sure she was exaggerating. Yes, he had acquired his fair share of honors, but he wasn't exactly the 'hero' she was describing.
"I made some mistakes," he said with a shrug. "It's-"
He was silenced as Kongou levelled a finger at him. "You. Quiet. You are too modest for this!"
Goto couldn't help but quirk an eyebrow. "And that's a bad thing?"
"It's unbecoming! A man of your caliber shouldn't be demoted and discarded for a simple mistake!"
He sighed, wishing the powers had kept his hearing a private affair. Of course word had gotten around that the quintessential isikai protagonist was being taken down a peg. More than a few of his competitors had come to watch the show. And of course Kongou had shown up, dragging her two sisters with her. And of course they'd been ordered to leave after causing too much of a disturbance; calling the accusations dishonourable, cowardly, and proudly stating that a man like Goto did not deserve such treatment!
It hadn't helped his reputation, to say the least.
Anyway, it had gone about as well as he expected. Technically there was nothing dishonourable about his removal at all. He'd laid out his reasoning as logically as he could, and even the Minister of Defence had to admit his decision to send Musashi away had some merit. But, in the end, their minds were already made up.
Loosing command of the Kanmusu Corp was expected... but he'd be lying if the demotion hadn't stung a little. Never one to procrastinate, he'd taken his uniform to the tailors that same day. Despite it only being thread, his arms felt lighter with the missing gold bar.
That being said, however, the Minister of Defence had concluded the hearing with details surrounding his new position.
Doctor Bennett, it seemed, had come through for him.
Details that Kongou had not been present for. And as she paced back and forth, the British accent faded as she speculated where Goto's duty would take him next.
"Far, far away from me, I would assume," she sniffed, clasping her hands over her heart. "Such is the nature of romance. Star crossed lovers, separated by distance, but bound forever by the burning love in their hearts."
She sighed, wistfully, wilting like a parched flower under the hot sun.
Then she perked up.
"I could go on strike."
Goto snorted, shaking his head. He thought she was joking, but as she started to rub her chin he realized she was serious. "Kongou..."
"I could refuse to sail. We all could. This isn't fair! They can't just throw you away like this! I can't allow it. I won't allow it! If they bloody well think they can-"
"Kongou," Goto interrupted her, slipping out of the chair. When she gave him an indignant look, he carefully took her hand and clasped it in his own. He wasn't blind to the way her back went rigid, or the soft blush coloring her cheeks at the contact. "Kongou, I am honored you think so highly of me. Truly. But I can't allow you to do this. Japan needs it's protectors, and I can't let you tarnish your own reputation because of me."
He forced a smile. "In the grand scheme of things, you are far more important than I'll ever be. I'm just another Admiral."
Looking down, he realized his fingers were rubbing small circles around her delicate knuckles. He almost pulled away, stunned by his own brazenness. But deep down there was some part of him that revelled in the dismissal. An end to his career, yes, but it opened up new possibilities. One where fraternization was no longer an issue.
But so long as the Abyssals remained a threat, it was a luxury he couldn't accept.
It took every ounce of his will, but he managed to still his wandering fingers and met her blazing blush with grim acceptance.
"We have to win this war before we take this any further."
She smiled, then. More of a pained grimace than anything. "Why must I love the most dedicated man on Earth?"
Her finger shot to his lips, silencing him before he could speak.
"And don't you dare apologize. I... perhaps it was too much to hope for, but..." she sniffed. "They'll send you away. I don't want to live another day without you by my side."
Goto couldn't help but give a pained grimace of his own. Of course she hadn't been present for his new orders. And now that she believed he was leaving forever... she might not take kindly to the reveal.
"Not... as far as you might think," he said, guiding her towards the door.
"No. No, I suppose not. But with love, what is distance but a number?" She pressed herself against his side as they walked down the hall. "So long as burning love holds true, not even the width of the ocean will separate us."
They exited through the back door of the headquarters to the rear parking lot. Instinctively, Goto started towards his usual spot, but the unfamiliar Toyota Century stopped him dead in his tracks. Right, this was the Admiral's parking spot, not his anymore. And it seemed Eichi was already putting it to good use.
Mistaking his intention, Kongou sniffed again. "Is it in Tokyo, at least? They aren't sending you to another region?"
"Kongou, I will only be a short drive away," he tried to comfort her, then immediately wanted to kick himself. Knowing Kongou that phrase could construed in all the wrong ways. Especially since she seemed incapable of ever getting her drivers licence.
Instead of trying to stutter his way out of the hole, it was best to simply show her.
Guiding her across the base was a simple affair and soon the high walls of Summoning Hall came into view. If there ever was a beating heart of Japan's war effort, this was it. The home of Japan's summoning efforts.
Doubling as a shrine, the building was one of the largest in Yukosuka. Goto vividly remembered the care that had gone into its construction. A good section of the base had been levelled just to accommodate it, such was the importance.
It was a large, circular structure; almost a hundred and fifty meters in diameter, placed right on the water front. Attached to it was a square block of offices and other facilities that stuck out like a sore thumb. But on the side facing the bay, the curved walls were replaced by enormous sliding doors that seemed more at home on an aircraft hanger, opening up the interior to the elements.
Currently, those doors were wide open, allowing a small brigade of robed Shinto priestess to file into the shine's interior.
Ignoring them for the moment, Goto led Kongou to the shrine's office block. In the small parking lot outside, his modest Toyoda Prius sat among the vehicles of the shrine's other inhabitants. But it was just his luck he'd chosen a spot in front of the doors.
Mistaking their destination once again, Kongou put on a brave face as she moved to the passenger seat... only to pull a double take as Goto continued onto the building itself. Confused, she followed him further down the unassuming grey hallway, passing rows of labelled offices and rooms.
Bracing himself for whatever was to come, Goto stopped before one particular door. The newly fitted brass plaque gleamed under the light, marking this as the office of Vice Admiral Goto Takanashi. He was not disappointed. An excited squeal heralded the battleship tackle-hugging him through the door.
Without time to unpack the interior was mostly bare. The boxes containing his personal effects were scattered on the provided desk. The exception was the familiar canvas he'd painstakingly hung next to the door. And as his back hit the far wall, the picture jumped slightly, revealing a fresh '1' pencilled beneath it.
Good to know that was still working.
"Oh, Teikuko, why didn't you tell me?" Kongou whined, nuzzling him under the chin like a cat. "You were going to be working here the whole time and you never thought to tell me?"
"I wanted to surprise you," he replied.
She pulled away, giving him a sardonic smirk. "Oh? And this surprise only comes after I poured my heart out over you leaving?"
"Uh..."
She hugged him again. "Please don't do that again. I was so worried."
"About what?" This time it was Goto who gently pushed her away, looking her straight in the eye. "Kongou, how could I love any other woman?"
She froze, mouth falling open. It wasn't until the blush began to crawl along her cheeks and steam began to leak from her ears that Goto realized what he'd done. An open admission. Probably the first one he'd ever said to her, and Kongou was taking it in stride. Her smile was blinding, hands covering her heart as though it would burst.
Goto couldn't help but smile back, brushing away a stray lock of hair that fell in front of her eyes.
"Also, they revealed my new orders at the end," he whispered. "If you had stayed you would have heard everything."
She spluttered, then pouted. "W-Well-"
Then a knock came from the door.
"Oh dear, I hope I'm not interrupting."
They both looked up, Kongou hugging her Admiral protectively as a third figure shuffled into the office.
In person, Doctor Oscar Bennett looked like a shell of the man in the online conference. His immaculate brown suit still fit him to perfection, but there was a new gauntness to his cheeks and eyes that made him look far, far older. And though he was paler than when they last spoke, the grip on his embossed cane was as solid as ever. Not to mention his smirk as his gestured back the way he'd came.
"I can go, if you'd prefer?"
"Doctor Bennett!" Kongou's sequel of excitement was no less high, but the care with which she approached the old man was apparent. She seemed unsure to hug him at all; expression conflicted as her arms waved this way and that. Finally, she settled on carefully draping her arms around his shoulders. "When did you arrive? You should have told me dess! I would have had tea ready!"
Then she pulled back, confused.
"What are you doing here? Not that I don't appreciate you visiting dess but why..."
Bennett chuckled as she devolved into stutters. "Duty calls, in a matter of speaking. You have yours and I have mine."
That didn't assure her in the slightest. "But your treatments..."
"There are somethings more important than my health, my dear. Oh, don't give me that look. In the battle of saving the Human race, I'm not taking my head off the block to spare myself a little discomfort." His smile turned more sincere. "I do appreciate your concern, my dear, but I am completely serious. We could very well win the war here."
"But did it have to be you?"
"I wouldn't have it any other way. Now! Admiral Goto." He stepped forward, grinning much more broadly. Though it dimmed slightly as he saw the number of bars on his sleave. "My apologies, but aside from having you lumped in with us, we couldn't control all disciplinary measures."
"What's done is done," Goto replied, ignoring Kongou's indignant look. "I'll survive."
"Setting in just fine?"
"As well as can be expected."
"Excellent! Now, Kongou." His smile turned sympathetic as he turned to her. "Not that I don't appreciate your company - far from it - but I am simply famished. A nice cuppa tea would hit the spot. How about you wrangle up sisters and get a pot started. Goto and I will finish up here then we can continue this party in a more lively place. I've always wanted to see your tea room in person."
Seeing the request for what it was, Kongou nodded. Giving Goto one last nuzzle, she skipped out of the room, her happy humming fading away as the front door banged open. Bennett watched her go, fondly.
"She really grows on you, doesn't she?"
"You don't know the half of it," Goto smiled.
"And I hope I never found out that other half you're talking about." The British gentlemen lightly thwacked Goto's leg with his cane. "For Darwin's sake, man, put a ring on her before you loose her. We just might be able to line the wedding up with V-Day if you wish?"
The words stopped the rebuttal dead in Goto's throat. "You think we're that close?"
"Oh, this is the closest we've been since this bloody war began." Stepping closer, Bennett whispered in his ear. "If our theories is correct, the Abyss is the key that we were never meant to find. The birthplace of the Abyssals and all they represent. That's where you come in."
He gently poked Goto in the chest.
"I am a scholar, not a tactical savant. Our plan is a simple one. I and my colleagues delve deeper into this mystery and find out what makes it tick. Meanwhile you will keep your eyes open and use the pieces we find for some avenue of attack." He smirked. "But between you and me, I hope it's as easy as the Phantom Menace. Either way, we still need someone to take the shot."
"That doesn't explain what you're doing here in Japan, though."
"Pragmatism, I'm afraid. Mr Morgan has thrown everything we know into the proverbial dumpster. We're not starting over from scratch, mind you, but a lot of our theories need reassessing and maybe even our practises. Miss Valencia, especially..." He gave a toothy grin, growing more excited. "...oh, she is not happy about the prospect of rewriting all her books. But we all agree that Morgan is the key to all this. And maybe even the hull of Musashi. It's a fascinating dichotomy, not in the least of all because-"
"Doctor," Goto gently interrupted. "Japan, please."
"Yes, yes, I was getting to that. The devil is in the details, Admiral, it's important to have the full picture for a complete understanding. Now, Morgan represents a question we've been asking for a long time. From which side does the power to summon come from? All shipgirls can enhance the strength of a summoning ritual, but only certain people with the right bloodlines can start the process. Is Morgan both or neither? Which side takes predominance? Human or ship? Japanese or Canadian?"
He opened his mouth to continue when his face twisted in discomfort. Turning away, he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and hacked into it a few times.
"All questions that need to be answered if we wish to expand our avenues of attack," the Doctor croaked, smiling as he slipped the handkerchief back into his pocket. He waved off Goto's concerned look. "I'm fine, I'm fine, don't worry about me. I'm old, that's all it is. But this question of power is why I'm here, Admiral. Why we're all here, in fact."
He drew himself up on his cane, swallowing the frog in his throat. "Mr Morgan is the key, but which lock does he open? The logic comes down to bloodlines. I exclusively Summon ships of the Royal Navy. Valencia, ships of the USN. And Mr Isoroku coaxes the IJN out of the deep. We are restricted along those lines based on nationality, not location. Sure it's more difficult to achieve a British Summoning Ritual in Germany, but it can be done. It's a work in progress, but we'll operate under the assumption that the ship half is the more powerful factor for the time being. We have no discernible proof of Mr Morgan Summoner's status before he vanished and I'm loathed to bring his family into this."
That answered almost nothing. Goto's position as Admiral might have giving him a closer look at Summoning in general, but he couldn't recall anything about these 'theories' Bennett was referencing.
The Doctor frowned then; a look of deep frustration that could only come from politicking. "Plus, the Japanese Government wanted Musashi back where they belong. Not that I'm adverse to keeping Mr Morgan comfortable, but Japan is much safer than Canada for the time being. For all of us. They put up a good argument about that."
That, at least, Goto could understand. He nodded along. "Safety is always paramount. But that still doesn't answer my question. Why are you here, specifically?"
"Consolidation, of course. We're hoping pulling together in this way has the same effect as on a standard ritual. Heightened calling power, knowledge, and creativity; which will theoretically translate into greater results."
Before Goto could press further, a buzzer rang through the building. The walls seemed to shake as the sound of the massive doors to the main hall began to grind shut. Bennett looked up with a grin.
"Why that sneaky bugger, he hadn't told me they were trying for a bucket today!" He hurried for the door. "We'll walk and talk, Admiral. I don't want to miss this."
But there wasn't much time for talk either way, the short hallway led them to the double doors to the amphitheatre before Goto could find the words. The door was plastered with hazard markings, warning those that entered to maintain an air of quiet and reverence. Moreover, the largest sign warned that when the lights were flashing, entrance was strictly forbidden. Sure enough, a row of lights along the top bared the entrance.
But for all their brilliance, they couldn't stop the determined Brit. Cracking open the door, Bennett peeked in. Then he grinned, motioning Goto to follow as he slipped inside.
The inside of the Summoning Hall was a majestic sight to behold. Each supporting pillar around it's circumference was one half of a Torii gate, forming a red ring around walls that were painted the deepest black. Across the ceiling, however, ran a far more modern system. Gantry cranes, pulleys, and supporting hooks held dozens of steel boxes aloft, the largest of which was a vertically held shipping container.
Goto idly realized he'd never seen one so pristine. The corrugated steel was polished to a mirror shine, accentuating the black, printed label on it's front. All the other boxes were in a similar state of shine, each with a label denoting their contents. One was a carrier of copper wire. Another glass, or priceless wood. And even more contained more precious materials: Lithium, cobalt, gold and silver. All suspended above the ritual taking place below.
Carved into the very center of the concrete floor was the kanji for healing. Orbiting around it was a ring of similar markings; words denoting generosity, giving, and another synonyms. In each word, a small pool was carved where the lines of the kanji intersected the most. Each pool lined up perfectly with one of the hanging crates above, even the container of steel.
From each of these smaller pools, carved channels led inward, conjoining as they went to connect with the main kanji at the center. Water filled the system of channels, connecting them all to a similar pool carved in the heart of the main kanji. Unlike the others there was no box of resources suspended above. Instead, a single crane held a large glass tube just above the surface.
Caught up in the sight, it took the plucking of strings for Goto to notice the ring of Shinto priestess spaced out among the carved channels. Their red and white robes were immaculate, their masks of Sukunabikona freshly painted, and their instruments tuned to perfection. Many plucked the strings of Biwas and still more blew on flutes through holes in their masks. They formed a ring around the central kanji, walking clockwise in perfect lockstep, expertly stepping over the channels of water.
And as their march continued, the song began in earnest. It was not a traditional folk song, not one that Goto recognized, but it hearkened back to that time. Cords and notes that gave the impression of open fields. And then the flutes joined in, dousing the melody in a warm haze like that of a hot spring.
Doctor Bennett watched, practically awe struck. His eyes were darting back and forth trying to see everything at once. But when he tried to get closer did Goto have to draw the line. Taking him by the shoulder, the Admiral pulled him back. Unwilling to interrupt the music, he shook his head and pointed down to the line of hazard tape which formed an even larger circle around the Torii gates.
Observers were allowed at such events, but strict rules were enforced. Chief among them was that you never interrupted a ritual in progress.
Bennett relented and stepped back with a nod, allowing the Shinto priests to work their magic.
At the base of the main kanji stood a solitary man. His sky blue robes, gilded with silver thread, stood out in sharp contrast from the concrete, and even the priestess'. His low, sonorous voice added a new depth to the song; the mental image of green fields changed ever so slightly to a field of a different sort. A subtle change, but no less powerful. Fields of industry, harvesters of steel, bringing their bounty to the steaming shore were an empty slipway awaited. Healing had become repair.
And with that impression filling the air, the lone priest stepped into the water filled channel. As he did, his robes tugged in odd places as the harness he wore underneath held up his weight. Invisible lines of carbon fibre suspended him from the ceiling, giving him the impression of walking on water. Only the soles of his slippers brushed the surface.
But that was all it took.
It began with a vibration; a tremble in your bones rather than sound, growing louder and louder. The water began to churn, but instead of splashing out, it seemed to flow into the walls of the channel. As though a great disk was being spun beneath the earth and the water had become it's face.
The tremble became a roar; wind began to gust around the room, kicking up the robes of the Miko. But not once did they stop singing. Their pace never faltered, and not one wrong or misplaced note sullied the tune. It was barely audible now, drown out by the roar of the tempest. And the priest at their center was the eye of the storm. Calm and serene as the tempest raged about him.
As it was described to Goto early on; it was not a battle of wills. You could not conquer nature. Instead, it was an act of harmony. To attune to the nature of the ocean to achieve your aims.
But as the tempest grew, it seemed the ocean didn't care for these handlers. Wind began to gust around the auditorium, tugging at Goto's uniform. The priestess' were struggling to remain cohesive; their robes snapped in the air, threatening to get tangled in their instruments, but still they played.
Whatever their reservations were, the Miko were dead set to see this through. Although, the safety handlers were clearly nervous. In the churning wind and spray, Goto could just barely see the wires connected to each of the Miko via a harness hidden under their robes. Normally these were kept slack, connected to a track system above so as not to hinder the ritual in anyway. Now they were taut; ready to pull their charges out of harms way at a moment's notice.
And as the wind picked up, it seemed like they were about to loose control, the song was drowned out entirely by the wind... until something abruptly changed.
The wind levelled off, still roaring around the room, but all the fury behind it seemed to vanish. Even the channels of water began to flow differently. Gradually, the awesome force of energy began to slow. None of it's power seemed lost, instead flowing in time with the priestess' and their song.
At this, the Head Priest slowly raised his arms to the sky. The song suddenly changed, gaining a strange, almost chemical twinge. Simultaneously, the crates of supplies along with the glass jar were slowly into their respective pools on silent pulleys. They slipped beneath the surface without splash or sound.
As one, the Miko halted, turning inward as the song began reached it's determined end. As the music faded, so to did the wind and waves. As the water stilled the cranes began to retract. The crates of supplies were gone, but the glass container filled with a glowing green radiance. The fluid inside sparkled with potential.
Goto couldn't help but grin. All this effort and resources to create one of the most priceless fluids known to man; and they had the gall to call it a Repair Bucket.
As the ceremony conclude, the fluid was lowered onto a specialized cart and wheeled away by an armed marine escort. And as the practitioners themselves began to scatter, Bennett's enthusiasm couldn't be contained any further.
"Bravo! Bravo!"
Goto almost started out of his skin. In the reverent silence that usually followed the ritual, Bennett's clapping rang like thunder as he hurried over the hazard markings to congratulate them in person. Sighing, Goto hurried after him.
Even at this distance, the Admiral saw the Head Priest's shoulder sag slightly. With a whispered word to his assistants the Miko were dismissed, heading off to doors hidden in the walls. Meanwhile the man himself turned to meet them.
Kannushi Isoroku was the picture of Japanese traditionalism. Goto had never seen him wearing anything but the robes of his vocation. They fit with his calm, yet reserved air. Round glasses were the only blemish on his otherwise lined features. And though his face was serine, his eyes betrayed weariness as they settled on the approching Doctor.
"Doctor Bennett, welcome." His low voice was almost a whisper in the cavernous room as he bowed. "Admiral Goto, welcome. I did not expect you to join us for the ceremony this day."
"You sneaky bugger! You didn't tell me you were trying for a bucket today," Bennett grinned, not offended in the least. "You know how much I've wanted to see it in action."
Kannushi gave Goto a look before momentarily switching to Japanese. "Careful. His enthusiasm could be contagious."
He turned back to Bennett as though nothing had happened. "My apologizes, Doctor Bennett, but circumstances forced my hand. It is wise to provide our Kami with all the assistance we can provide before this mission dominates all our attention."
Conceding the point, Bennett waved a hand, even as he shot a regretful look at the patterns carved in to the floor. "True, true. I suppose so. For now, we're still on schedule?"
"That... remains to be seen."
A klaxon suddenly split the air, strobe lights illuminating the gigantic doors to the outside momentarily before they creaked open. Outside, a small army of American marines equipped with shovels and brooms waited. Intermingled with them were a dozen Japanese Combat Engineers driving diggers or carrying jackhammers. They closed in on the carved glyths, with the Engineers shouting at any marine who didn't bow beneath the Torii gates.
"We are still uncertain about which call to make. Her actions speak of something deeper, this, we must know before resorting to a simple call of forgiveness." He motioned to the men as they set about draining the channel in preparation for their removal. "It could be a costly mistake."
"And you're sure you don't want to try a better system? I mean no offence, but maybe a standardized template would be easier than redoing the concrete each time."
Kannushi's serenity shifted, slightly. The look of a stoic man trying to hide his irritation. "Kami do not answer to a lifeless call, as I have explained countless times already."
"It is hardly lifeless, as you say. Merely a more streamlined process. It's the basis of an efficient system. "
As the Jingushi's features darkened, Goto realized he had to step in. Imposing in front of Bennett with a smile, he bow his head, respectfully. "Jokai Kannushi, thank you for the Bucket. Even though I'm no longer in command, I know the girls appreciate everything you do."
Kannushi's eyes flicked to Goto briefly, but couldn't be deterred. "If it is efficiency you crave, Doctor Bennett, go to the Americans. Valencia will happily educate you. But nature has never been tamed by the whims of man, nor 'efficient' machinations. The Kami laugh at such attempts."
He turned to Goto before Bennett could get a word in. "Admiral Goto, I am sorry to hear of your demotion. I understand it was a difficult choice, but Musashi's place is here."
Goto couldn't help but exhale, exasperated. It was had been a shared sentiment at the hear. "You're not the first one to tell me that."
"I should hope not. The sooner we can remove this affliction from her spirit, the better."
"Mr Morgan is hardly a malignant tumour!" Bennett pipped up, aghast. "We don't even know how this happened. We can't go jumping to the worst possible conclusion at first glance. Besides, it's not his essence we should be focusing on, but the rather mechanism of his circumstances."
"And yet the two are intertwined."
"For Natural Borns, maybe. But Mr Morgan is not one of them, he is something else."
"Indeed."
"And he's not a tumour, either!"
As the two fell to bickering, Goto found himself the unwilling third wheel, looking back and forth between the pair. Two of the foremost Summoning expects in the world and they were arguing like children. And Bennett's explanations hadn't helped much.
Deciding he'd had enough, Goto stepped between them. "Jokai, Doctor, a moment, please. First of all, while I do appreciate you saving my skin I still don't have a good picture of what we're doing here. I understand that I'm here as a strategist, but what will we be working on, exactly? Because outside of trying to invade the Abyss you haven't told me much."
Bennett frowned. "I thought that was the straight forward part?"
"It's not. We don't know what the Abyss is or even if we can get back to it. So let's start with the basics; when you started putting this outfit together, what was it's the purpose?"
"Well, you see, the Abyss represents a key aspect of the war. The deity of the Abyssals, perhaps even their maker, but certainly the driving force of this entire conflict. It has sent down the Prophecy, goading the Abyssals to such actions as-"
As the Brit rambled on, Goto glanced over at Kannushi, hopefully. The Shinto Priest did not disappoint.
"The understanding of our enemy."
"Exactly!" Bennett crowed, only to keel over with another cough. It took a moment to get his breath back. "Exactly! Motivations, origins. Knowing your enemy is the greatest victory."
"And I would hope you have a plan?"
Bennett grinned. "Indeed we do, Admiral. Not to rag on his integrity, but we don't believe Mr Morgan will able to help much on the academic side. He has no doctorate to speak of, but I'm sure he'll fall under your command quiet well. Assuming the Canadians don't fight too hard to keep him."
Kannushi's face darkened at that.
"The world ending stakes should persuade them. We're racing against the Prophecy here, and if-"
"Doctor, please."
"The details are important!"
"We are summoning Kirishima, first." Kannushi interrupted, gracefully. "She attempted something unprecedented. The raising of an Installation miles away from the coast. If the Kami Chitose and Chiyoda observed correctly, this was no mere disillusion on Kirishima's part. The ritual was alive, but seemed to lack the proper components for activation."
"Indeed. If we follow the conventional theory that all Abyssals are products of the Abyss, then Kirishima has answers we need."
Goto rubbed the bridge of his nose. It felt like they were trying to help but kept running around in circles. "Answers to what, exactly?"
Their response didn't help. They might have saved his skin, but truth be told, Goto wasn't too impressed with this new operation. The vague talk of keys, Morgan, scientific and spiritual theories; most of it was going over his head. There didn't seem to be a plan beyond a vague 'get inside the Abyss and blow it up.' Every strategic thought in his brain was wailing in despair.
Goto cutting off Bennett's latest ramble with a raised hand. "You're both right; this is probably the best chance we have at striking back. However, if you brought me here for strategic reasons, I can tell you now, this approach will not work."
Bennett bristled slightly, but Goto swore the ghost of a grin crossed Kannushi's face.
"Admiral, you must understand, this is hardly an understood science!" Bennett raised a finger. "Unexplored waters. Contested waters, for all we know. We have basic tools and theories for feeling our way through the dark, but until we have a solid understanding of what's down there we are still grasping at straws. "
"And that's what I'm concerned about, Doctor. If you were able to gather enough support to put this operation together you must have made promises about results, yes?"
"Obviously. They would never have authorized such expenditures otherwise."
"And I assume those promises were blown completely out of proportion?"
Bennett reared back. "Oh, hardly!"
But Kannushi's upturned lips were all he needed to see.
"Right..." Clasping his hands behind his back, Goto put on a professional air. "Doctor Bennett, am I really your strategic advisor?"
"Well, of course!"
"Then please allow me to strategize. This approach you have is not sustainable. Make no mistake, I fully believe we can help end the war, but not if all support is pulled before we have the chance. In fact, if you'll allow me, let me take my role a bit further. I can administrate, allowing you all to focus on... the exploration, as you say. It would certainly free up a lot of your time."
Kannushi was openly grinning now, but Bennett was too deep in thought to notice. "It... would indeed. Yes... yes, I believe you're right."
Goto had to fight to without a smirk of his own. He might have loathed politicking, but he was adept in it, at least.
"Then I need a few things from you both. Lists of who you intend to bring here, what resources you have, which nations support this endeavor and the support they've pledged. But most importantly, we need goals."
Now it was starting to make sense; it felt like they had put together a unit without first defining the mission. Exploration, discovery, and a hypothetical invasion was too vague for tangible results.
"Summoning Kirishima sounds like a good start, but we need more than just fumbling around in the dark. Get me all that, then we can start discussing a timeline."
By now, Bennett was grinning as well. "Yes... yes, excellent thinking, Admiral! I shall begin right away! Leave it to the officer to find the details I missed. Got to love the good ones."
He gave an annoyed Kannushi a light thwack to the leg. "Excellent choice we made, aye old chap?"
"Indeed," the Jokai said through pursed lips as he smoothed his robes.
"Cream of the crop, dare I say. Simply marvellous! The work we can accomplish now that..." The Doctor's voice doppled away as he hurried off, chattering happily to himself. Only in his absence did Kannushi's shoulders relax.
"Thank the Kami for your intervention, Admiral Goto. It will be good to have someone responsible leading this endeavor. I will spare you details, but he flew down with everything he could get his hands on before the decision was made to fund us."
"Well, he'll keep us engaged, that's for sure," Goto replied, trying to inject some levity into the conversation. It didn't work.
"Hardly a comfort. He is too energetic. With his age and profession it is disgraceful. Matters of Kami should not be approached with such indifference."
Goto frowned. "Can you work with him?
"Of course. The survival of Japan and the Human race demands it. You will find no issue with me, Admiral Goto. However, be wary when Valencia arrives." He turned to leave, speaking over his shoulder. "She might not take kindly to your intervention."
As the Priest surveyed the destruction of the glyths, Goto retired to his new office. Falling back into the chair with a sigh, he reflected on what he just did. What he was now a part of. It certainly wasn't an upgrade, but it didn't feel like the opposite, either. His mission was still the same, but now he might have the means to actually see it through.
The only problem was that he had to manage bickering scientists and priests now.
He rubbed his face, trying to ease the tension building behind his eyes. "Oh boy..."
The woman could be a thief.
All too likely considering the state of the world, and in Vancouver especially. Shoplifters, punks, and addicts had always been a problem in the downtown Walmart, even before the war. And while this woman raised some red flags, in other ways she was perfectly normal.
She was clean and well kept, but the turtleneck sweater and jeans weren't a point in her favor. Too much covered skin. Hiding track marks? Or was their gauntness hidden under that stunning figure?
Possibly.
Taking a puff from his inhaler, Kurt waddled over to the register and pretended to total the recites from that day. It gave him an excuse to get closer. Purely for loss prevention reasons. Certainly not because she was bent over to examine a phone. No sir.
Then again, there wasn't much she could easily take. The installation of glass cases had happened practically overnight. Once Walmart Canada realized the Abyssals were here to stay, they plugged every hole in the budget that they could. It had been a slow transformation, but over time Kurt had born witness to his second home in the Electronics Section become a castle of glass cases and locks.
Not that he was complaining, though. There was power in holding the key. The ability to deny a transaction and actually enforce it.
He could honestly say the war had done him a personal favor. It had taken his boring job as a Associate and turned it into something akin to his true passion of moderating. He was the king of Electionics and he wouldn't have it any other way.
And as the woman moved to another display case of phone, he debated flexing that authority. Sure, she didn't appear to be doing anything suspicious, but she'd been here for the last two hours. With only thirty minutes to close, the rest of the store was virtually empty. But here she was, still reading the provided specifications like she'd never seen a phone before.
A common tactic of druggies; looking like you were deep in thought, trying to make the most frugal purchase.
But she didn't look like a druggy, aside from being a little pale. Her ginger hair was clean well kept, even if it was a tangled mess. Same with her face; the only blemish there was a heavy splattering of freckles. Nothing about her features indicated she was a habitual user... except maybe her eyes.
Kurt had seen many methheads and crackheads over the years, and the eyes were always a good indication. The sunken vacancy; the way they seemed to stare through you when confronted. And while this woman seemed sharp and alert... there was still something about her eyes that gave him pause.
He wasn't intimidated, no sir! In fact, she should be honored to have such a watchful protector.
But as the minutes ticked by with no sign of progress, Kurt finally decided to talk with her. He cleaned himself up, wiping a few crumbs from his beard and smoothing his shirt over his gut. The morning's dose of Axe body spray still lingered in the air, assuring him that he was presentable. As a topper to his assemble, he considered his fedora hidden under the counter.
Why not? One last hurrah for the day. Then she'd know she was dealing with a man of class.
Hat in firmly in place over his thinning hair, Kurt squeezed through the gap in the counter before sauntering over. However, she didn't react to his presence.
"Excus-" His deep voice faltered as he coughed up a mouthful of phlegm. Swallowing it quickly, he put on a charming grin. "Excuse me, ma'am, anything I can help you with? We're about to close here."
She didn't even blink, continuing to examine the plaques with that strange intensity.
"Ma'am, I'm trying to help. We're gonna be shutting down soon. If you need me to unlock anything it needs to happen now.
Again, no reaction.
Kurt pursed his lips with a frown. He hadn't had anyone outright ignore him before, not in his own domain.
"Ma'am-"
"I wish to purchase a... smartphone." Her voice was abrupt it stopped him mid rebuke. It was low, elegant, and in his mind, oh so sultry. Each word was crystal clear, each syllable sharp as a knife. Topped off with an accent that sent a shiver down his spine. Exotic. "But... I am unsure which one would suit my needs."
Kurt grinned. "Well, our selection isn't the best here, but I'd be happy to help. What exactly are you looking for?"
"Good... re-cep-tion." She hesitated, mouthing the word to herself as if to make sure she got it right. "Yes. Reception. I live far away from any... cell tower. This phone must be able to call seamlessly."
"That's... not exactly how phones work, ma'am."
She frowned. "Is their broadcast range so weak?"
"Not exactly. They just need to be in a cell zone to make calls normally. See, uh, it's not that they're weak, they just need to connect to the network to exchange data, voice calls, and the such. Outside of that." He shrugged. "Well, you can't call anything."
Her frown deepened. "Why?"
"Well, there's no reception, of course. You can't do anything without reception."
She didn't reply, glowering at the display case for a second before her features smoothed over. "But these... cell zones inhabit most cities?"
"Anywhere with a cell tower, yeah." Sticking his hands in his pockets, Kurt adopted a casual air, puffing out his chest. "You really don't know much about phones, do you?"
"I live an isolated life. Perhaps to my own detriment, but I am looking to change that." Her frown returned. "Is the amount of... Jee-Bees worth the extra twenty dollars?"
"What? The Gigabytes? I think so. I mean, it's better to have the storage when you need it."
As the conversation went back and forth, the odder the women became. She reminded Kurt of his Grandma before she died; never understanding technology and constantly asking about the most basic of concepts. All she would need was to make a 'back in my day' comment and the reflection would be complete.
A much prettier reflection, too.
"Pretty?"
The compliment seemed to catch her off guard. Kurt nodded, sexily leaning against the display case. But his attempts to sidle closer ground to a halt as she smiled. There was nothing pleasant about it, or even awkward, as most women were about him. But like her eyes, there was just something... wrong about it.
"You think this old soul is pretty?"
"Old?" He chuckled. "You don't look a day over thirty."
Shit. He wanted to slap himself. The last five times he'd said thirty they got all indignant for some reason.
If anything, her strange smile only seemed to grow. "I am much older than I look. Believe me. But, under your recommendation, I will take... this one."
She poked the glass over a device.
"A fine choice!" Kurt replied, fishing the keys out of his pocket. "I know the Samsungs have gotten pretty expensive with the Pacific closed off, but they're worth every penny!"
Heading to the register with the purchase, he ran the bar code. "Now then, what phone plan where you interested in?"
"Why would I need to plan this out further?"
"Ah, yeah. So, Rogers, Shaw, Bell?" He slid his hands across the counter with the various data packages were laid out under the clear acrylic. "Gotta get one for the phone to work."
For the first time, surprise and disgust clouded her features. "You mean we must pay for it's operation after we have already purchased the product?"
"It's a service, ma'am. But, if you're as far out as you say, might I recommend the-"
As he went on to describe the various packages, her frown only deepened. And when he finished explaining each one, she took a claiming breath. "Just get me the best. Please."
Kurt did, proudly listing off all the benefits as he ducked to grab a fresh sim card. Setting up the account was particularly fruitful. Her learned her name, and more importantly, she didn't care what her phone number should be. He'd graciously found one that suited her and made sure it was saved in his own contacts before finalizing the account and totalling the purchase.
"Uh, that'll be twelve eighty seven and sixty three cents."
That too seemed to stun her for a moment. She blinked, glancing between at the box and the price. "A king's ransom... for a phone."
"Well, they've never been cheap," Kurt offered with a shrug. "The war certainly hasn't made things easier."
Still frowning, she dug in a pocket and pulled out a credit card. When she looked a little lost about how to proceed, she held it out across the counter.
"It goes in the card reader, ma'am."
"The what?"
Sighing, Kurt walked her through the payment process. At least she might have been right about her age. Only geezers were this technologically illiterate. She remembered her pin, at least.
But as the receipt was printing and Kurt was putting the phone back in it's box, the woman reached across the counter for her purchase. But she came at it from a bad angle and the sleeve of her sweater caught on the card reader, pulling it back to expose the better part of her wrist and forearm. Naturally, Kurt glanced over the admire the porcelain skin... and froze.
Though he wouldn't exactly label himself a pervert, he had... explored those corners of the internet where handcuff were used for more than law enforcement. It was one of the few fetishes he had dropped entirely. The cuffs and rope always seemed to chaff in all the wrong way. And while the marks on the woman's wrist were signs of bondage... they were far, far worse. The skin past her wrist was a moulted mess. Deep bruises and odd, criss-crossing scars vanished up the cuff of her sweater. Almost as if she'd been bound in... chains.
And not in the fun way, either.
But as she nonchalantly fixed her sleeve, the familiar indignation welling up inside him. How dare anyone hurt this delicate flower? He quirked his fedora. "Uh, ma'am?"
She ignored him, reaching out for the box.
"Ma'am, that looks serious, do you need help?"
She didn't seem to hear him, examining her purchase with a careful eye.
Kurt frowned, reaching out for her. "Ma'am, I'm trying to help you here. How-"
Her whole demeanour changed in an instant. Before he could even touch her, she seized his wrist in a grip of pure iron. And those eyes... even with her hold, he couldn't move even if he wanted to. It was like staring down the barrel of a gun. There seemed to be nothing behind those brown orbs. Not anger, hate, or even disgust, just... cold. Emptiness. Daring him to try it again.
They seemed to hang in that moment for hours before she finally blinked. But when she spoke, her voice was colder still, each word tightening the grip around his wrist until he thought it would break.
"Your compassion is admirable. But you. Can't. Help me."
Then he was free, clutching his wrist as he stumbled back against the far counter. Already bruises were starting to form.
"Why you... bitch!" Fear was replaced with indignation as he snarled. "I was only trying to..."
But the woman was gone. Through the isles outside Electronics, he could barely see her retreating back as she hurried for the exit. He almost ran after her, but the pain in his wrist made him reconsider. Instead, he called the Manager, and from there the police.
But in the days that followed the investigation seemed to go nowhere. Buried under dozens of other cases of assault. Over time everyone seemed to forget; the police had more important matters to attend to than a bruised wrist. And the woman never came back. Over time Kurt himself embellished the story; regaling everyone about how he tried to rescue the damsel in distress, only for Stockholm syndrome to carry her away before he could.
He never mentioned the eyes. The coldness. Nor the hope to never see her again. It was a feather in his cap as a nice guy, nothing more. Overtime, he forgot that the number in his contacts was even hers, and deleted it on impulse.
And so her trail vanished, as though she'd never been there at all.
AN: And now get introduced to the meat and potatoes of the next arc. The Summoning Committee is gathering in all their bickering glory. That was actually the hardest part of this chapter to write. My notes on Doctor Bennett are: 'have him speak a lot without saying anything.' It was very fun writing out, but once I got to editing it was a nightmare to work through. It's why I'm not entirely satisfied with this one. Goto's scene was meant to formally introduce members of the Summoning Committee, but it still doesn't feel quite right. Like Bennett, it seems to meander all over the place and I can't fix it. I hope it got the point across.
But overall, it gets the point across and flows rather well. Goofy fairy shenanigan, a transition to William lowering the tempo, Goto and his new job levelling the mood out, and then Kurt's near brush with death.
So yeah, not entirely happy with it, but it works... I might be turning into Tod Howard before too long. "It just works."
"Desu-," she whispered in a mock shout, only to freeze as a loud snort interrupted her.
Musashi groaned in his sleep, turning over in bed. The mattress shook beneath the motley crew as he tried to find a new position. Eventually, he came to rest on his shoulder, body propped up vertically on his side. This wouldn't have been a problem, except that the pillows were ancient looking things who had lost their fluffiness long ago. And given the sheer broadness of his shoulders, there was no earthly way they could support his bridge. It hung at almost a ninety degree angle, making the entire group cringe.
For a moment, it seemed the awkward position would force the battleship awake. They stood in breathless anticipation. Then the mattress shook with a deep, rumbling snore as Musashi slumbered on.
The Captain considered waking him up to at least change positions; she could only imagine the neck pain he'd have tomorrow. But he hadn't been sleeping well as it was! Ever since he was kicked by that damned cow he'd been... well, the Captain could sympathize, but his attitude was hardly befitting of a battleship.
She shivered, remember the first time he'd snapped. The fear and sheer panic that shot across their bond was enough to paralyze the whole crew. She couldn't understand it! After weathering an entire enemy fleet, single-handedly what could possibly scare Musashi?
But this made their mission all the more important!
Drawing herself up again, she opened her mouth... then winced as Musashi stirred again.
Grumbling under her breath about constant interruptions, she ushered the expedition off the bed and out of the large bedroom. On the landing outside, they carefully swung the door shut, holding their breath as it clicked shut, loudly. Not another sound came from inside.
Sighing in relief, the Captain ordered them back into ranks, puffed out her chest and began her speech anew. Never before had they undertook a mission like this, but never before had the need been so dire!
"Desu!" she cried, pointing at the closed door. Their battleship was suffering! This could not be allowed to stand! On this day they would set out for the ultimate cure! A mystical creature to bring luck and good fortune! Clever and wise in equal measure! A creature of floof and cuddles!
In the ranks, the other Fairies exchanged glances before a Lieutenant raised her stub, confused. "Desu?"
"Desu!" The Captain shot back, irritability. No, she was not talking about a kitsume! They were hunting cat tonight!
They all ahhed in understand, then raised their tiny rifles and cheered.
From the beyond the door, Musashi snorted again, cutting off their jubilation as they listened breathlessly. Only when the snoring resumed did they sigh in relief.
Shouldering her pack, the Captain opened her mouth to proclaim a start to the expedition... only to think better of it, grumpily motioning the crew onward in silence. A simple gesture didn't have the same effect as commands delivered at the top of your lungs.
Next time, she promised herself. Next time.
But there was little time to dwell on that as they approached their first obstacle. The Captain slowed to a halt, eyes narrowing dangerously. Behind her, the rest of the expedition stared up in awe and resolve, even if they were dwarfed in it's shadow.
"Desu," the Captain proclaimed, leading the way. Nothing would stand in their way! Not even their worst enemy!
Stairs!
It took thirty minutes of standing on each other's shoulders, climbing, swearing, and getting kicked in the head more times than she could count, but they eventually found themselves at the top. After cursing the builders to an untimely retirement, the courageous Captain led them on down the short hallway into the kitchen. The cupboards and counters, while normal sized for Musashi, towered over the tiny crewmen like they marched through the city of giants. Some members of the expedition, lower ranking marines who have never been outside before, looked around in dumbstruck awe.
The Captain merely grumbled under her breath. The things weren't nearly as majestic when you falling off them. Stupid Musashi and his doing dishes. Along with Japanese, she would have to teach him proper decorum and manners!
But that could wait! The quest for floof would not be waylaid any longer!
Nodding resolutely, she led her crew across the Kitchen and down the steps in the entry vestibule. The rough rugs were caked with old mug and grime as the Fairies advanced, their pace slowing as they stared down their next obstacle. A monolithic slab of wood, embedded with faded glass, and protected by tumblers who's key were lost to time. Taunting the noble travellers with what it represented; the last barrier between Musashi's – and the crew's – well being.
The Captain glared, willing the obstacle to fold under her unwavering will!
But the front door of the house was not so easily swayed.
"Desu?" One of the crewmen piped up, eagerly, holding a pack of explosives aloft.
"Desu," the Captain groused. They couldn't go blowing up the place, as that was a good way to upset mama-slipway. An involuntary shiver suddenly went down her little spine at the thought. This new Musashi had a cold rage when roused, but she didn't want to imagine the temper his creator could muster if her home was vandalized.
Not even floof would be worth that fate.
Still, there were sounds of disappointment as the explosives were packed away.
What followed was the ultimate trial of balance, strength, and endurance. Musashi might have been weird, but that hadn't affected the raw determination, nor the skill of his crew as they set their plan in motion!
"Desu!" the Captain cried, pinwheeling her arms to keep her balance as the Fairies beneath her swayed, dangerously. Standing on each other's shoulders, one on top of the either, the expedition could reach an impressive three feet in height, with the Captain rightfully on top. However, she reflected it might not have been the best idea as tower swayed like a reed in a windstorm. It didn't help that the poor Fairy at the bottom was staggering back and forth under the weight, making the wobble worse.
"Desu!" she ordered, pointing toward the door. Their source of locomotion complied, staggering towards the obstruction. As momentum carried the lower bodies of the stack forward, the Captain yelped as she found herself falling back, suspended over empty air by the pair of stubs around her ankles. "Desu! Desu!"
"DESU!" The Fairy on the bottom shrieked angrily.
After a while of being waved around like a flag, the stack finally found the door. And with sound of triumph, Gremlin seized the massive door knob and gave it a turn.
The massive door swung inward.
The Fairies cheered! Only to start yelping in alarm as the swinging door knocked them over, scattering crewmen in all directions. But the fall hardly damped their spirits! The dark night beyond the open portal beckoned, and across the open field of concrete the old barn where their goal resided sat, shrouded in shadow.
The Captain posed heroically on the doorstep, allowing the Fairy photographer to snap a picture before leading them out into the darkness.
The cool night air was refreshing, their pace quickened as victory loomed ahead. The Captain was almost trembling with excitement. She could almost feel that soft, white floof beneath her stubs, the prestige and fame that would come with having a cat on board! Victory was at hand!!
A low clucking sound stopped the expedition dead in their tracks, right on the doorstep of the garage. Flowers and small shrubs ringed the decrepit building, attempting to hide the crumbling foundation under a layer of green. But among those stalks and leaves, their were many... things. Even in the darkness they stood out as lumps of brown and white. And as they watched, a long head emerged from one of the lumps and a single beady eye watched them warily.
The Fairies all sighed in relief as they recognized it.
Just a Chicken.
The feathery creature clucked to itself, twisting it's head back and forth as it regard the group,
"Desu!" Not one to be deterred, the Captain strode forward, shooing the animal away as she headed for the largest crack in the foundation. No silly bird was going to get between them and cat! "Desu!"
Her shouting only served to wake up the others, and soon half a dozen sets beady eyes watched them, heads cocked.
"Desu," the Captain tried again, trying to slap the bird away with the power of her mind! Unfortunately, no such power existed. As she came to realized her sphere of influence only existed in and around Musashi, the Chicken suddenly rose to it's feet.
Suddenly it was much taller than she expect. Much, much taller.
"D-Desu," she tried, taking a careful step back as she became the bird's undivided target. "Des-"
The Chicken's head shot out and Gremlin jumped back with a screech as the beak missed her by an inch.
RETREAT!!!
The expedition scattered, their high pitched cries rousing the rest of the birds. One raised her rifle, only for the Captain to slap it down, screaming that they couldn't shoot mama-slipways chickens! What short of hell would she unleash upon them if they did that?! There was nothing else to be done but sprint for the safety of the house as chickens began rushing out of the darkness for an early breakfast.
----
"Uncle William?"
William groaned as something poked his arm. After last night he was thoroughly exhausted. A sentiment not shared by his crew, apparently. The Fairies were on high alert; short of his rigging manifesting, they were at full battle stations for... what?
"Uncle William, wake up."
"I am up," he grumbled, mentally dragging himself back into the waking world. He was on his back, splayed out over his too small bed. But following the source of the poking, he turned his head to see his Nieces and Nephews clustered at his bedside.
"What?" he groaned. "Ain't you even seen a sleeping battleship before?"
Christopher broke down giggling. Eli wasn't far behind, but he had the good grace to point at the source. And following his finger, William glanced down and... came nose to beak with a chicken. At least six of the cluckers were nestled on his chest, staring down at him with cocked heads and beady eyes.
He blinked. "What, you bring me breakfast in bed?"
Christopher broke down, doubling over with a shriek of laughter.
"We found them like this," Christa informed him. "But now you can't move them."
"Oh?" Now wide awake, William shot her smirk. "Why not?"
"Because they're getting ready to lay eggs," she pointed out, raising her chin. "And you can't interrupt a chicken laying eggs otherwise they get all scrambled."
That only made her brother laugh louder. "They don't lay scrambled eggs!"
As the two fell to bickering, William looked back at his feathery problem. The chickens stared back, showing a lot of nerve for walking snacks. Funny thing was he could have sworn he shut the door last night. Emotional wreck or not, there were some things so ingrained they bordered on robotic.
Either way, they were freaking out the crew for some reason. He hoped Gremlin had a lesson plan ready because the language barrier was really getting on his nerves.
He yawned, expansively. "Well, I am really hungry, you guys. I could really go for some nuggets – ohno!"
With a wide sweep of his arm the chickens were scooped up and flung away. The fact they were aimed at the three kids was purely coincidental. "Oh no, there they go! Catch them before they start running!"
Christa shrieked, covering his face as she was buried under a storm of flapping wings. Her brothers, on the other hand, merely shied away to weather the barrage, laughing the whole time. It was music to William's ears, but right then they had a bigger problem.
"No! I wasn't joking, they're getting away!"
He dove off the bed, making a grab for one of the feathery bastards, managing to grab the tip of it's tail before it could vanish under the bed. It's squawk of protest sent his Fairies on the bridge into a fit of cheering bloodlust.
As he wrangled his Nephews into the chicken catching brigade – Christa had run upstairs, still screaming – William realized he felt... lighter, somehow. The silence was still there, hiding beneath the shrieks of delight. But as they tossed the last of the chickens outside and had to explain the noise to bunch of grumpy parents, the world itself seemed to be cast in a new light.
His family, the farm, his Nieces and Nephews... they felt more real than ever. As did the steel of his hull and the antics of the Fairies inside.
But now, instead of a sharp contrast, the two aspects of his life seemed to compliment each other. And with his promises last night still fresh in his mind, he realized what it was.
He was enjoying himself.
He could look at Eli and not feel a shred of guilt. He could laugh and talk without the crippling dread from above. And yet, nothing inside seemed to change. He still found himself staring into those dark corners during breakfast, places were the silence lurked. There was still the fear of what hung above him.
But now there was the understanding that it was not his to share. Why poison their memories of him even further?
The Northern conflict seemed to beckon, his promise to Eli drawing him closer. And once he took that first step, there was a good chance he would never come back. So he would treasure the time he had left; treat each day like it was his last, so when the time came he could look Death in the eye and say he had no further regrets.
Death, at least, was easier to face than his nightmares.
----
It was no longer his office. It was a strange thought, but one Goto had no choice but to confront. He'd had his personal belongings cleared out ages ago, anticipating this very moment. Now that it was upon him, he realized just how empty it made him feel.
The maps on the walls still displayed the fleet movements, the bases, the sorties, ready for the next man in line to carry on his work. Never again would he command the might of Japan's Kanmusu. Never again would he sit in this office as it's Admiral.
It would be the last time he ever sat in this chair again.
Strange thing to add onto his woes, but considering the amount of torment that chair went through on an almost daily basis, Goto couldn't help but appreciate it's existence. He didn't know where it had come from, it had been in the office when he was first appointed as the Admiral. It deserved a Purple Heart for weathering years of tackle hugs and other Kongou related shenanigans.
Leaning back, hearing the old springs creak as he stared up at the ceiling, Goto wished he could take it with him. But an angry huff shattered the moment. He glanced down to the battleship pacing a hole through the floor.
"Vice Admiral? They demoted you to Vice Admiral?!"
Kongou was mad.
Very mad.
Not something you expected out the bouncy battleship, but these had been strange times. And this wasn't any regular anger, no. it was the kind of rage that brought out Kongou's roots in force. To the uneducated, she was just another Japanese made battleship; laid down, build, and commissioned in the homeland. Her whole attitude did nothing to dispel that, and if not for her obsession with tea it would have been believable.
It was only when she got angry – truly angry – that her voice dipped back into it's British ancestry.
And right then she could give Warspite a run for her money.
"They demoted you? After everything you've done for Japan they demote you?!" She paused in her pacing, lost for words as she made vague strangling motions with her hands. "Of all the nerve! They throw out one of their greatest heroes? For what?!"
Goto was sure she was exaggerating. Yes, he had acquired his fair share of honors, but he wasn't exactly the 'hero' she was describing.
"I made some mistakes," he said with a shrug. "It's-"
He was silenced as Kongou levelled a finger at him. "You. Quiet. You are too modest for this!"
Goto couldn't help but quirk an eyebrow. "And that's a bad thing?"
"It's unbecoming! A man of your caliber shouldn't be demoted and discarded for a simple mistake!"
He sighed, wishing the powers had kept his hearing a private affair. Of course word had gotten around that the quintessential isikai protagonist was being taken down a peg. More than a few of his competitors had come to watch the show. And of course Kongou had shown up, dragging her two sisters with her. And of course they'd been ordered to leave after causing too much of a disturbance; calling the accusations dishonourable, cowardly, and proudly stating that a man like Goto did not deserve such treatment!
It hadn't helped his reputation, to say the least.
Anyway, it had gone about as well as he expected. Technically there was nothing dishonourable about his removal at all. He'd laid out his reasoning as logically as he could, and even the Minister of Defence had to admit his decision to send Musashi away had some merit. But, in the end, their minds were already made up.
Loosing command of the Kanmusu Corp was expected... but he'd be lying if the demotion hadn't stung a little. Never one to procrastinate, he'd taken his uniform to the tailors that same day. Despite it only being thread, his arms felt lighter with the missing gold bar.
That being said, however, the Minister of Defence had concluded the hearing with details surrounding his new position.
Doctor Bennett, it seemed, had come through for him.
Details that Kongou had not been present for. And as she paced back and forth, the British accent faded as she speculated where Goto's duty would take him next.
"Far, far away from me, I would assume," she sniffed, clasping her hands over her heart. "Such is the nature of romance. Star crossed lovers, separated by distance, but bound forever by the burning love in their hearts."
She sighed, wistfully, wilting like a parched flower under the hot sun.
Then she perked up.
"I could go on strike."
Goto snorted, shaking his head. He thought she was joking, but as she started to rub her chin he realized she was serious. "Kongou..."
"I could refuse to sail. We all could. This isn't fair! They can't just throw you away like this! I can't allow it. I won't allow it! If they bloody well think they can-"
"Kongou," Goto interrupted her, slipping out of the chair. When she gave him an indignant look, he carefully took her hand and clasped it in his own. He wasn't blind to the way her back went rigid, or the soft blush coloring her cheeks at the contact. "Kongou, I am honored you think so highly of me. Truly. But I can't allow you to do this. Japan needs it's protectors, and I can't let you tarnish your own reputation because of me."
He forced a smile. "In the grand scheme of things, you are far more important than I'll ever be. I'm just another Admiral."
Looking down, he realized his fingers were rubbing small circles around her delicate knuckles. He almost pulled away, stunned by his own brazenness. But deep down there was some part of him that revelled in the dismissal. An end to his career, yes, but it opened up new possibilities. One where fraternization was no longer an issue.
But so long as the Abyssals remained a threat, it was a luxury he couldn't accept.
It took every ounce of his will, but he managed to still his wandering fingers and met her blazing blush with grim acceptance.
"We have to win this war before we take this any further."
She smiled, then. More of a pained grimace than anything. "Why must I love the most dedicated man on Earth?"
Her finger shot to his lips, silencing him before he could speak.
"And don't you dare apologize. I... perhaps it was too much to hope for, but..." she sniffed. "They'll send you away. I don't want to live another day without you by my side."
Goto couldn't help but give a pained grimace of his own. Of course she hadn't been present for his new orders. And now that she believed he was leaving forever... she might not take kindly to the reveal.
"Not... as far as you might think," he said, guiding her towards the door.
"No. No, I suppose not. But with love, what is distance but a number?" She pressed herself against his side as they walked down the hall. "So long as burning love holds true, not even the width of the ocean will separate us."
They exited through the back door of the headquarters to the rear parking lot. Instinctively, Goto started towards his usual spot, but the unfamiliar Toyota Century stopped him dead in his tracks. Right, this was the Admiral's parking spot, not his anymore. And it seemed Eichi was already putting it to good use.
Mistaking his intention, Kongou sniffed again. "Is it in Tokyo, at least? They aren't sending you to another region?"
"Kongou, I will only be a short drive away," he tried to comfort her, then immediately wanted to kick himself. Knowing Kongou that phrase could construed in all the wrong ways. Especially since she seemed incapable of ever getting her drivers licence.
Instead of trying to stutter his way out of the hole, it was best to simply show her.
Guiding her across the base was a simple affair and soon the high walls of Summoning Hall came into view. If there ever was a beating heart of Japan's war effort, this was it. The home of Japan's summoning efforts.
Doubling as a shrine, the building was one of the largest in Yukosuka. Goto vividly remembered the care that had gone into its construction. A good section of the base had been levelled just to accommodate it, such was the importance.
It was a large, circular structure; almost a hundred and fifty meters in diameter, placed right on the water front. Attached to it was a square block of offices and other facilities that stuck out like a sore thumb. But on the side facing the bay, the curved walls were replaced by enormous sliding doors that seemed more at home on an aircraft hanger, opening up the interior to the elements.
Currently, those doors were wide open, allowing a small brigade of robed Shinto priestess to file into the shine's interior.
Ignoring them for the moment, Goto led Kongou to the shrine's office block. In the small parking lot outside, his modest Toyoda Prius sat among the vehicles of the shrine's other inhabitants. But it was just his luck he'd chosen a spot in front of the doors.
Mistaking their destination once again, Kongou put on a brave face as she moved to the passenger seat... only to pull a double take as Goto continued onto the building itself. Confused, she followed him further down the unassuming grey hallway, passing rows of labelled offices and rooms.
Bracing himself for whatever was to come, Goto stopped before one particular door. The newly fitted brass plaque gleamed under the light, marking this as the office of Vice Admiral Goto Takanashi. He was not disappointed. An excited squeal heralded the battleship tackle-hugging him through the door.
Without time to unpack the interior was mostly bare. The boxes containing his personal effects were scattered on the provided desk. The exception was the familiar canvas he'd painstakingly hung next to the door. And as his back hit the far wall, the picture jumped slightly, revealing a fresh '1' pencilled beneath it.
Good to know that was still working.
"Oh, Teikuko, why didn't you tell me?" Kongou whined, nuzzling him under the chin like a cat. "You were going to be working here the whole time and you never thought to tell me?"
"I wanted to surprise you," he replied.
She pulled away, giving him a sardonic smirk. "Oh? And this surprise only comes after I poured my heart out over you leaving?"
"Uh..."
She hugged him again. "Please don't do that again. I was so worried."
"About what?" This time it was Goto who gently pushed her away, looking her straight in the eye. "Kongou, how could I love any other woman?"
She froze, mouth falling open. It wasn't until the blush began to crawl along her cheeks and steam began to leak from her ears that Goto realized what he'd done. An open admission. Probably the first one he'd ever said to her, and Kongou was taking it in stride. Her smile was blinding, hands covering her heart as though it would burst.
Goto couldn't help but smile back, brushing away a stray lock of hair that fell in front of her eyes.
"Also, they revealed my new orders at the end," he whispered. "If you had stayed you would have heard everything."
She spluttered, then pouted. "W-Well-"
Then a knock came from the door.
"Oh dear, I hope I'm not interrupting."
They both looked up, Kongou hugging her Admiral protectively as a third figure shuffled into the office.
In person, Doctor Oscar Bennett looked like a shell of the man in the online conference. His immaculate brown suit still fit him to perfection, but there was a new gauntness to his cheeks and eyes that made him look far, far older. And though he was paler than when they last spoke, the grip on his embossed cane was as solid as ever. Not to mention his smirk as his gestured back the way he'd came.
"I can go, if you'd prefer?"
"Doctor Bennett!" Kongou's sequel of excitement was no less high, but the care with which she approached the old man was apparent. She seemed unsure to hug him at all; expression conflicted as her arms waved this way and that. Finally, she settled on carefully draping her arms around his shoulders. "When did you arrive? You should have told me dess! I would have had tea ready!"
Then she pulled back, confused.
"What are you doing here? Not that I don't appreciate you visiting dess but why..."
Bennett chuckled as she devolved into stutters. "Duty calls, in a matter of speaking. You have yours and I have mine."
That didn't assure her in the slightest. "But your treatments..."
"There are somethings more important than my health, my dear. Oh, don't give me that look. In the battle of saving the Human race, I'm not taking my head off the block to spare myself a little discomfort." His smile turned more sincere. "I do appreciate your concern, my dear, but I am completely serious. We could very well win the war here."
"But did it have to be you?"
"I wouldn't have it any other way. Now! Admiral Goto." He stepped forward, grinning much more broadly. Though it dimmed slightly as he saw the number of bars on his sleave. "My apologies, but aside from having you lumped in with us, we couldn't control all disciplinary measures."
"What's done is done," Goto replied, ignoring Kongou's indignant look. "I'll survive."
"Setting in just fine?"
"As well as can be expected."
"Excellent! Now, Kongou." His smile turned sympathetic as he turned to her. "Not that I don't appreciate your company - far from it - but I am simply famished. A nice cuppa tea would hit the spot. How about you wrangle up sisters and get a pot started. Goto and I will finish up here then we can continue this party in a more lively place. I've always wanted to see your tea room in person."
Seeing the request for what it was, Kongou nodded. Giving Goto one last nuzzle, she skipped out of the room, her happy humming fading away as the front door banged open. Bennett watched her go, fondly.
"She really grows on you, doesn't she?"
"You don't know the half of it," Goto smiled.
"And I hope I never found out that other half you're talking about." The British gentlemen lightly thwacked Goto's leg with his cane. "For Darwin's sake, man, put a ring on her before you loose her. We just might be able to line the wedding up with V-Day if you wish?"
The words stopped the rebuttal dead in Goto's throat. "You think we're that close?"
"Oh, this is the closest we've been since this bloody war began." Stepping closer, Bennett whispered in his ear. "If our theories is correct, the Abyss is the key that we were never meant to find. The birthplace of the Abyssals and all they represent. That's where you come in."
He gently poked Goto in the chest.
"I am a scholar, not a tactical savant. Our plan is a simple one. I and my colleagues delve deeper into this mystery and find out what makes it tick. Meanwhile you will keep your eyes open and use the pieces we find for some avenue of attack." He smirked. "But between you and me, I hope it's as easy as the Phantom Menace. Either way, we still need someone to take the shot."
"That doesn't explain what you're doing here in Japan, though."
"Pragmatism, I'm afraid. Mr Morgan has thrown everything we know into the proverbial dumpster. We're not starting over from scratch, mind you, but a lot of our theories need reassessing and maybe even our practises. Miss Valencia, especially..." He gave a toothy grin, growing more excited. "...oh, she is not happy about the prospect of rewriting all her books. But we all agree that Morgan is the key to all this. And maybe even the hull of Musashi. It's a fascinating dichotomy, not in the least of all because-"
"Doctor," Goto gently interrupted. "Japan, please."
"Yes, yes, I was getting to that. The devil is in the details, Admiral, it's important to have the full picture for a complete understanding. Now, Morgan represents a question we've been asking for a long time. From which side does the power to summon come from? All shipgirls can enhance the strength of a summoning ritual, but only certain people with the right bloodlines can start the process. Is Morgan both or neither? Which side takes predominance? Human or ship? Japanese or Canadian?"
He opened his mouth to continue when his face twisted in discomfort. Turning away, he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and hacked into it a few times.
"All questions that need to be answered if we wish to expand our avenues of attack," the Doctor croaked, smiling as he slipped the handkerchief back into his pocket. He waved off Goto's concerned look. "I'm fine, I'm fine, don't worry about me. I'm old, that's all it is. But this question of power is why I'm here, Admiral. Why we're all here, in fact."
He drew himself up on his cane, swallowing the frog in his throat. "Mr Morgan is the key, but which lock does he open? The logic comes down to bloodlines. I exclusively Summon ships of the Royal Navy. Valencia, ships of the USN. And Mr Isoroku coaxes the IJN out of the deep. We are restricted along those lines based on nationality, not location. Sure it's more difficult to achieve a British Summoning Ritual in Germany, but it can be done. It's a work in progress, but we'll operate under the assumption that the ship half is the more powerful factor for the time being. We have no discernible proof of Mr Morgan Summoner's status before he vanished and I'm loathed to bring his family into this."
That answered almost nothing. Goto's position as Admiral might have giving him a closer look at Summoning in general, but he couldn't recall anything about these 'theories' Bennett was referencing.
The Doctor frowned then; a look of deep frustration that could only come from politicking. "Plus, the Japanese Government wanted Musashi back where they belong. Not that I'm adverse to keeping Mr Morgan comfortable, but Japan is much safer than Canada for the time being. For all of us. They put up a good argument about that."
That, at least, Goto could understand. He nodded along. "Safety is always paramount. But that still doesn't answer my question. Why are you here, specifically?"
"Consolidation, of course. We're hoping pulling together in this way has the same effect as on a standard ritual. Heightened calling power, knowledge, and creativity; which will theoretically translate into greater results."
Before Goto could press further, a buzzer rang through the building. The walls seemed to shake as the sound of the massive doors to the main hall began to grind shut. Bennett looked up with a grin.
"Why that sneaky bugger, he hadn't told me they were trying for a bucket today!" He hurried for the door. "We'll walk and talk, Admiral. I don't want to miss this."
But there wasn't much time for talk either way, the short hallway led them to the double doors to the amphitheatre before Goto could find the words. The door was plastered with hazard markings, warning those that entered to maintain an air of quiet and reverence. Moreover, the largest sign warned that when the lights were flashing, entrance was strictly forbidden. Sure enough, a row of lights along the top bared the entrance.
But for all their brilliance, they couldn't stop the determined Brit. Cracking open the door, Bennett peeked in. Then he grinned, motioning Goto to follow as he slipped inside.
The inside of the Summoning Hall was a majestic sight to behold. Each supporting pillar around it's circumference was one half of a Torii gate, forming a red ring around walls that were painted the deepest black. Across the ceiling, however, ran a far more modern system. Gantry cranes, pulleys, and supporting hooks held dozens of steel boxes aloft, the largest of which was a vertically held shipping container.
Goto idly realized he'd never seen one so pristine. The corrugated steel was polished to a mirror shine, accentuating the black, printed label on it's front. All the other boxes were in a similar state of shine, each with a label denoting their contents. One was a carrier of copper wire. Another glass, or priceless wood. And even more contained more precious materials: Lithium, cobalt, gold and silver. All suspended above the ritual taking place below.
Carved into the very center of the concrete floor was the kanji for healing. Orbiting around it was a ring of similar markings; words denoting generosity, giving, and another synonyms. In each word, a small pool was carved where the lines of the kanji intersected the most. Each pool lined up perfectly with one of the hanging crates above, even the container of steel.
From each of these smaller pools, carved channels led inward, conjoining as they went to connect with the main kanji at the center. Water filled the system of channels, connecting them all to a similar pool carved in the heart of the main kanji. Unlike the others there was no box of resources suspended above. Instead, a single crane held a large glass tube just above the surface.
Caught up in the sight, it took the plucking of strings for Goto to notice the ring of Shinto priestess spaced out among the carved channels. Their red and white robes were immaculate, their masks of Sukunabikona freshly painted, and their instruments tuned to perfection. Many plucked the strings of Biwas and still more blew on flutes through holes in their masks. They formed a ring around the central kanji, walking clockwise in perfect lockstep, expertly stepping over the channels of water.
And as their march continued, the song began in earnest. It was not a traditional folk song, not one that Goto recognized, but it hearkened back to that time. Cords and notes that gave the impression of open fields. And then the flutes joined in, dousing the melody in a warm haze like that of a hot spring.
Doctor Bennett watched, practically awe struck. His eyes were darting back and forth trying to see everything at once. But when he tried to get closer did Goto have to draw the line. Taking him by the shoulder, the Admiral pulled him back. Unwilling to interrupt the music, he shook his head and pointed down to the line of hazard tape which formed an even larger circle around the Torii gates.
Observers were allowed at such events, but strict rules were enforced. Chief among them was that you never interrupted a ritual in progress.
Bennett relented and stepped back with a nod, allowing the Shinto priests to work their magic.
At the base of the main kanji stood a solitary man. His sky blue robes, gilded with silver thread, stood out in sharp contrast from the concrete, and even the priestess'. His low, sonorous voice added a new depth to the song; the mental image of green fields changed ever so slightly to a field of a different sort. A subtle change, but no less powerful. Fields of industry, harvesters of steel, bringing their bounty to the steaming shore were an empty slipway awaited. Healing had become repair.
And with that impression filling the air, the lone priest stepped into the water filled channel. As he did, his robes tugged in odd places as the harness he wore underneath held up his weight. Invisible lines of carbon fibre suspended him from the ceiling, giving him the impression of walking on water. Only the soles of his slippers brushed the surface.
But that was all it took.
It began with a vibration; a tremble in your bones rather than sound, growing louder and louder. The water began to churn, but instead of splashing out, it seemed to flow into the walls of the channel. As though a great disk was being spun beneath the earth and the water had become it's face.
The tremble became a roar; wind began to gust around the room, kicking up the robes of the Miko. But not once did they stop singing. Their pace never faltered, and not one wrong or misplaced note sullied the tune. It was barely audible now, drown out by the roar of the tempest. And the priest at their center was the eye of the storm. Calm and serene as the tempest raged about him.
As it was described to Goto early on; it was not a battle of wills. You could not conquer nature. Instead, it was an act of harmony. To attune to the nature of the ocean to achieve your aims.
But as the tempest grew, it seemed the ocean didn't care for these handlers. Wind began to gust around the auditorium, tugging at Goto's uniform. The priestess' were struggling to remain cohesive; their robes snapped in the air, threatening to get tangled in their instruments, but still they played.
Whatever their reservations were, the Miko were dead set to see this through. Although, the safety handlers were clearly nervous. In the churning wind and spray, Goto could just barely see the wires connected to each of the Miko via a harness hidden under their robes. Normally these were kept slack, connected to a track system above so as not to hinder the ritual in anyway. Now they were taut; ready to pull their charges out of harms way at a moment's notice.
And as the wind picked up, it seemed like they were about to loose control, the song was drowned out entirely by the wind... until something abruptly changed.
The wind levelled off, still roaring around the room, but all the fury behind it seemed to vanish. Even the channels of water began to flow differently. Gradually, the awesome force of energy began to slow. None of it's power seemed lost, instead flowing in time with the priestess' and their song.
At this, the Head Priest slowly raised his arms to the sky. The song suddenly changed, gaining a strange, almost chemical twinge. Simultaneously, the crates of supplies along with the glass jar were slowly into their respective pools on silent pulleys. They slipped beneath the surface without splash or sound.
As one, the Miko halted, turning inward as the song began reached it's determined end. As the music faded, so to did the wind and waves. As the water stilled the cranes began to retract. The crates of supplies were gone, but the glass container filled with a glowing green radiance. The fluid inside sparkled with potential.
Goto couldn't help but grin. All this effort and resources to create one of the most priceless fluids known to man; and they had the gall to call it a Repair Bucket.
As the ceremony conclude, the fluid was lowered onto a specialized cart and wheeled away by an armed marine escort. And as the practitioners themselves began to scatter, Bennett's enthusiasm couldn't be contained any further.
"Bravo! Bravo!"
Goto almost started out of his skin. In the reverent silence that usually followed the ritual, Bennett's clapping rang like thunder as he hurried over the hazard markings to congratulate them in person. Sighing, Goto hurried after him.
Even at this distance, the Admiral saw the Head Priest's shoulder sag slightly. With a whispered word to his assistants the Miko were dismissed, heading off to doors hidden in the walls. Meanwhile the man himself turned to meet them.
Kannushi Isoroku was the picture of Japanese traditionalism. Goto had never seen him wearing anything but the robes of his vocation. They fit with his calm, yet reserved air. Round glasses were the only blemish on his otherwise lined features. And though his face was serine, his eyes betrayed weariness as they settled on the approching Doctor.
"Doctor Bennett, welcome." His low voice was almost a whisper in the cavernous room as he bowed. "Admiral Goto, welcome. I did not expect you to join us for the ceremony this day."
"You sneaky bugger! You didn't tell me you were trying for a bucket today," Bennett grinned, not offended in the least. "You know how much I've wanted to see it in action."
Kannushi gave Goto a look before momentarily switching to Japanese. "Careful. His enthusiasm could be contagious."
He turned back to Bennett as though nothing had happened. "My apologizes, Doctor Bennett, but circumstances forced my hand. It is wise to provide our Kami with all the assistance we can provide before this mission dominates all our attention."
Conceding the point, Bennett waved a hand, even as he shot a regretful look at the patterns carved in to the floor. "True, true. I suppose so. For now, we're still on schedule?"
"That... remains to be seen."
A klaxon suddenly split the air, strobe lights illuminating the gigantic doors to the outside momentarily before they creaked open. Outside, a small army of American marines equipped with shovels and brooms waited. Intermingled with them were a dozen Japanese Combat Engineers driving diggers or carrying jackhammers. They closed in on the carved glyths, with the Engineers shouting at any marine who didn't bow beneath the Torii gates.
"We are still uncertain about which call to make. Her actions speak of something deeper, this, we must know before resorting to a simple call of forgiveness." He motioned to the men as they set about draining the channel in preparation for their removal. "It could be a costly mistake."
"And you're sure you don't want to try a better system? I mean no offence, but maybe a standardized template would be easier than redoing the concrete each time."
Kannushi's serenity shifted, slightly. The look of a stoic man trying to hide his irritation. "Kami do not answer to a lifeless call, as I have explained countless times already."
"It is hardly lifeless, as you say. Merely a more streamlined process. It's the basis of an efficient system. "
As the Jingushi's features darkened, Goto realized he had to step in. Imposing in front of Bennett with a smile, he bow his head, respectfully. "Jokai Kannushi, thank you for the Bucket. Even though I'm no longer in command, I know the girls appreciate everything you do."
Kannushi's eyes flicked to Goto briefly, but couldn't be deterred. "If it is efficiency you crave, Doctor Bennett, go to the Americans. Valencia will happily educate you. But nature has never been tamed by the whims of man, nor 'efficient' machinations. The Kami laugh at such attempts."
He turned to Goto before Bennett could get a word in. "Admiral Goto, I am sorry to hear of your demotion. I understand it was a difficult choice, but Musashi's place is here."
Goto couldn't help but exhale, exasperated. It was had been a shared sentiment at the hear. "You're not the first one to tell me that."
"I should hope not. The sooner we can remove this affliction from her spirit, the better."
"Mr Morgan is hardly a malignant tumour!" Bennett pipped up, aghast. "We don't even know how this happened. We can't go jumping to the worst possible conclusion at first glance. Besides, it's not his essence we should be focusing on, but the rather mechanism of his circumstances."
"And yet the two are intertwined."
"For Natural Borns, maybe. But Mr Morgan is not one of them, he is something else."
"Indeed."
"And he's not a tumour, either!"
As the two fell to bickering, Goto found himself the unwilling third wheel, looking back and forth between the pair. Two of the foremost Summoning expects in the world and they were arguing like children. And Bennett's explanations hadn't helped much.
Deciding he'd had enough, Goto stepped between them. "Jokai, Doctor, a moment, please. First of all, while I do appreciate you saving my skin I still don't have a good picture of what we're doing here. I understand that I'm here as a strategist, but what will we be working on, exactly? Because outside of trying to invade the Abyss you haven't told me much."
Bennett frowned. "I thought that was the straight forward part?"
"It's not. We don't know what the Abyss is or even if we can get back to it. So let's start with the basics; when you started putting this outfit together, what was it's the purpose?"
"Well, you see, the Abyss represents a key aspect of the war. The deity of the Abyssals, perhaps even their maker, but certainly the driving force of this entire conflict. It has sent down the Prophecy, goading the Abyssals to such actions as-"
As the Brit rambled on, Goto glanced over at Kannushi, hopefully. The Shinto Priest did not disappoint.
"The understanding of our enemy."
"Exactly!" Bennett crowed, only to keel over with another cough. It took a moment to get his breath back. "Exactly! Motivations, origins. Knowing your enemy is the greatest victory."
"And I would hope you have a plan?"
Bennett grinned. "Indeed we do, Admiral. Not to rag on his integrity, but we don't believe Mr Morgan will able to help much on the academic side. He has no doctorate to speak of, but I'm sure he'll fall under your command quiet well. Assuming the Canadians don't fight too hard to keep him."
Kannushi's face darkened at that.
"The world ending stakes should persuade them. We're racing against the Prophecy here, and if-"
"Doctor, please."
"The details are important!"
"We are summoning Kirishima, first." Kannushi interrupted, gracefully. "She attempted something unprecedented. The raising of an Installation miles away from the coast. If the Kami Chitose and Chiyoda observed correctly, this was no mere disillusion on Kirishima's part. The ritual was alive, but seemed to lack the proper components for activation."
"Indeed. If we follow the conventional theory that all Abyssals are products of the Abyss, then Kirishima has answers we need."
Goto rubbed the bridge of his nose. It felt like they were trying to help but kept running around in circles. "Answers to what, exactly?"
Their response didn't help. They might have saved his skin, but truth be told, Goto wasn't too impressed with this new operation. The vague talk of keys, Morgan, scientific and spiritual theories; most of it was going over his head. There didn't seem to be a plan beyond a vague 'get inside the Abyss and blow it up.' Every strategic thought in his brain was wailing in despair.
Goto cutting off Bennett's latest ramble with a raised hand. "You're both right; this is probably the best chance we have at striking back. However, if you brought me here for strategic reasons, I can tell you now, this approach will not work."
Bennett bristled slightly, but Goto swore the ghost of a grin crossed Kannushi's face.
"Admiral, you must understand, this is hardly an understood science!" Bennett raised a finger. "Unexplored waters. Contested waters, for all we know. We have basic tools and theories for feeling our way through the dark, but until we have a solid understanding of what's down there we are still grasping at straws. "
"And that's what I'm concerned about, Doctor. If you were able to gather enough support to put this operation together you must have made promises about results, yes?"
"Obviously. They would never have authorized such expenditures otherwise."
"And I assume those promises were blown completely out of proportion?"
Bennett reared back. "Oh, hardly!"
But Kannushi's upturned lips were all he needed to see.
"Right..." Clasping his hands behind his back, Goto put on a professional air. "Doctor Bennett, am I really your strategic advisor?"
"Well, of course!"
"Then please allow me to strategize. This approach you have is not sustainable. Make no mistake, I fully believe we can help end the war, but not if all support is pulled before we have the chance. In fact, if you'll allow me, let me take my role a bit further. I can administrate, allowing you all to focus on... the exploration, as you say. It would certainly free up a lot of your time."
Kannushi was openly grinning now, but Bennett was too deep in thought to notice. "It... would indeed. Yes... yes, I believe you're right."
Goto had to fight to without a smirk of his own. He might have loathed politicking, but he was adept in it, at least.
"Then I need a few things from you both. Lists of who you intend to bring here, what resources you have, which nations support this endeavor and the support they've pledged. But most importantly, we need goals."
Now it was starting to make sense; it felt like they had put together a unit without first defining the mission. Exploration, discovery, and a hypothetical invasion was too vague for tangible results.
"Summoning Kirishima sounds like a good start, but we need more than just fumbling around in the dark. Get me all that, then we can start discussing a timeline."
By now, Bennett was grinning as well. "Yes... yes, excellent thinking, Admiral! I shall begin right away! Leave it to the officer to find the details I missed. Got to love the good ones."
He gave an annoyed Kannushi a light thwack to the leg. "Excellent choice we made, aye old chap?"
"Indeed," the Jokai said through pursed lips as he smoothed his robes.
"Cream of the crop, dare I say. Simply marvellous! The work we can accomplish now that..." The Doctor's voice doppled away as he hurried off, chattering happily to himself. Only in his absence did Kannushi's shoulders relax.
"Thank the Kami for your intervention, Admiral Goto. It will be good to have someone responsible leading this endeavor. I will spare you details, but he flew down with everything he could get his hands on before the decision was made to fund us."
"Well, he'll keep us engaged, that's for sure," Goto replied, trying to inject some levity into the conversation. It didn't work.
"Hardly a comfort. He is too energetic. With his age and profession it is disgraceful. Matters of Kami should not be approached with such indifference."
Goto frowned. "Can you work with him?
"Of course. The survival of Japan and the Human race demands it. You will find no issue with me, Admiral Goto. However, be wary when Valencia arrives." He turned to leave, speaking over his shoulder. "She might not take kindly to your intervention."
As the Priest surveyed the destruction of the glyths, Goto retired to his new office. Falling back into the chair with a sigh, he reflected on what he just did. What he was now a part of. It certainly wasn't an upgrade, but it didn't feel like the opposite, either. His mission was still the same, but now he might have the means to actually see it through.
The only problem was that he had to manage bickering scientists and priests now.
He rubbed his face, trying to ease the tension building behind his eyes. "Oh boy..."
----
The woman could be a thief.
All too likely considering the state of the world, and in Vancouver especially. Shoplifters, punks, and addicts had always been a problem in the downtown Walmart, even before the war. And while this woman raised some red flags, in other ways she was perfectly normal.
She was clean and well kept, but the turtleneck sweater and jeans weren't a point in her favor. Too much covered skin. Hiding track marks? Or was their gauntness hidden under that stunning figure?
Possibly.
Taking a puff from his inhaler, Kurt waddled over to the register and pretended to total the recites from that day. It gave him an excuse to get closer. Purely for loss prevention reasons. Certainly not because she was bent over to examine a phone. No sir.
Then again, there wasn't much she could easily take. The installation of glass cases had happened practically overnight. Once Walmart Canada realized the Abyssals were here to stay, they plugged every hole in the budget that they could. It had been a slow transformation, but over time Kurt had born witness to his second home in the Electronics Section become a castle of glass cases and locks.
Not that he was complaining, though. There was power in holding the key. The ability to deny a transaction and actually enforce it.
He could honestly say the war had done him a personal favor. It had taken his boring job as a Associate and turned it into something akin to his true passion of moderating. He was the king of Electionics and he wouldn't have it any other way.
And as the woman moved to another display case of phone, he debated flexing that authority. Sure, she didn't appear to be doing anything suspicious, but she'd been here for the last two hours. With only thirty minutes to close, the rest of the store was virtually empty. But here she was, still reading the provided specifications like she'd never seen a phone before.
A common tactic of druggies; looking like you were deep in thought, trying to make the most frugal purchase.
But she didn't look like a druggy, aside from being a little pale. Her ginger hair was clean well kept, even if it was a tangled mess. Same with her face; the only blemish there was a heavy splattering of freckles. Nothing about her features indicated she was a habitual user... except maybe her eyes.
Kurt had seen many methheads and crackheads over the years, and the eyes were always a good indication. The sunken vacancy; the way they seemed to stare through you when confronted. And while this woman seemed sharp and alert... there was still something about her eyes that gave him pause.
He wasn't intimidated, no sir! In fact, she should be honored to have such a watchful protector.
But as the minutes ticked by with no sign of progress, Kurt finally decided to talk with her. He cleaned himself up, wiping a few crumbs from his beard and smoothing his shirt over his gut. The morning's dose of Axe body spray still lingered in the air, assuring him that he was presentable. As a topper to his assemble, he considered his fedora hidden under the counter.
Why not? One last hurrah for the day. Then she'd know she was dealing with a man of class.
Hat in firmly in place over his thinning hair, Kurt squeezed through the gap in the counter before sauntering over. However, she didn't react to his presence.
"Excus-" His deep voice faltered as he coughed up a mouthful of phlegm. Swallowing it quickly, he put on a charming grin. "Excuse me, ma'am, anything I can help you with? We're about to close here."
She didn't even blink, continuing to examine the plaques with that strange intensity.
"Ma'am, I'm trying to help. We're gonna be shutting down soon. If you need me to unlock anything it needs to happen now.
Again, no reaction.
Kurt pursed his lips with a frown. He hadn't had anyone outright ignore him before, not in his own domain.
"Ma'am-"
"I wish to purchase a... smartphone." Her voice was abrupt it stopped him mid rebuke. It was low, elegant, and in his mind, oh so sultry. Each word was crystal clear, each syllable sharp as a knife. Topped off with an accent that sent a shiver down his spine. Exotic. "But... I am unsure which one would suit my needs."
Kurt grinned. "Well, our selection isn't the best here, but I'd be happy to help. What exactly are you looking for?"
"Good... re-cep-tion." She hesitated, mouthing the word to herself as if to make sure she got it right. "Yes. Reception. I live far away from any... cell tower. This phone must be able to call seamlessly."
"That's... not exactly how phones work, ma'am."
She frowned. "Is their broadcast range so weak?"
"Not exactly. They just need to be in a cell zone to make calls normally. See, uh, it's not that they're weak, they just need to connect to the network to exchange data, voice calls, and the such. Outside of that." He shrugged. "Well, you can't call anything."
Her frown deepened. "Why?"
"Well, there's no reception, of course. You can't do anything without reception."
She didn't reply, glowering at the display case for a second before her features smoothed over. "But these... cell zones inhabit most cities?"
"Anywhere with a cell tower, yeah." Sticking his hands in his pockets, Kurt adopted a casual air, puffing out his chest. "You really don't know much about phones, do you?"
"I live an isolated life. Perhaps to my own detriment, but I am looking to change that." Her frown returned. "Is the amount of... Jee-Bees worth the extra twenty dollars?"
"What? The Gigabytes? I think so. I mean, it's better to have the storage when you need it."
As the conversation went back and forth, the odder the women became. She reminded Kurt of his Grandma before she died; never understanding technology and constantly asking about the most basic of concepts. All she would need was to make a 'back in my day' comment and the reflection would be complete.
A much prettier reflection, too.
"Pretty?"
The compliment seemed to catch her off guard. Kurt nodded, sexily leaning against the display case. But his attempts to sidle closer ground to a halt as she smiled. There was nothing pleasant about it, or even awkward, as most women were about him. But like her eyes, there was just something... wrong about it.
"You think this old soul is pretty?"
"Old?" He chuckled. "You don't look a day over thirty."
Shit. He wanted to slap himself. The last five times he'd said thirty they got all indignant for some reason.
If anything, her strange smile only seemed to grow. "I am much older than I look. Believe me. But, under your recommendation, I will take... this one."
She poked the glass over a device.
"A fine choice!" Kurt replied, fishing the keys out of his pocket. "I know the Samsungs have gotten pretty expensive with the Pacific closed off, but they're worth every penny!"
Heading to the register with the purchase, he ran the bar code. "Now then, what phone plan where you interested in?"
"Why would I need to plan this out further?"
"Ah, yeah. So, Rogers, Shaw, Bell?" He slid his hands across the counter with the various data packages were laid out under the clear acrylic. "Gotta get one for the phone to work."
For the first time, surprise and disgust clouded her features. "You mean we must pay for it's operation after we have already purchased the product?"
"It's a service, ma'am. But, if you're as far out as you say, might I recommend the-"
As he went on to describe the various packages, her frown only deepened. And when he finished explaining each one, she took a claiming breath. "Just get me the best. Please."
Kurt did, proudly listing off all the benefits as he ducked to grab a fresh sim card. Setting up the account was particularly fruitful. Her learned her name, and more importantly, she didn't care what her phone number should be. He'd graciously found one that suited her and made sure it was saved in his own contacts before finalizing the account and totalling the purchase.
"Uh, that'll be twelve eighty seven and sixty three cents."
That too seemed to stun her for a moment. She blinked, glancing between at the box and the price. "A king's ransom... for a phone."
"Well, they've never been cheap," Kurt offered with a shrug. "The war certainly hasn't made things easier."
Still frowning, she dug in a pocket and pulled out a credit card. When she looked a little lost about how to proceed, she held it out across the counter.
"It goes in the card reader, ma'am."
"The what?"
Sighing, Kurt walked her through the payment process. At least she might have been right about her age. Only geezers were this technologically illiterate. She remembered her pin, at least.
But as the receipt was printing and Kurt was putting the phone back in it's box, the woman reached across the counter for her purchase. But she came at it from a bad angle and the sleeve of her sweater caught on the card reader, pulling it back to expose the better part of her wrist and forearm. Naturally, Kurt glanced over the admire the porcelain skin... and froze.
Though he wouldn't exactly label himself a pervert, he had... explored those corners of the internet where handcuff were used for more than law enforcement. It was one of the few fetishes he had dropped entirely. The cuffs and rope always seemed to chaff in all the wrong way. And while the marks on the woman's wrist were signs of bondage... they were far, far worse. The skin past her wrist was a moulted mess. Deep bruises and odd, criss-crossing scars vanished up the cuff of her sweater. Almost as if she'd been bound in... chains.
And not in the fun way, either.
But as she nonchalantly fixed her sleeve, the familiar indignation welling up inside him. How dare anyone hurt this delicate flower? He quirked his fedora. "Uh, ma'am?"
She ignored him, reaching out for the box.
"Ma'am, that looks serious, do you need help?"
She didn't seem to hear him, examining her purchase with a careful eye.
Kurt frowned, reaching out for her. "Ma'am, I'm trying to help you here. How-"
Her whole demeanour changed in an instant. Before he could even touch her, she seized his wrist in a grip of pure iron. And those eyes... even with her hold, he couldn't move even if he wanted to. It was like staring down the barrel of a gun. There seemed to be nothing behind those brown orbs. Not anger, hate, or even disgust, just... cold. Emptiness. Daring him to try it again.
They seemed to hang in that moment for hours before she finally blinked. But when she spoke, her voice was colder still, each word tightening the grip around his wrist until he thought it would break.
"Your compassion is admirable. But you. Can't. Help me."
Then he was free, clutching his wrist as he stumbled back against the far counter. Already bruises were starting to form.
"Why you... bitch!" Fear was replaced with indignation as he snarled. "I was only trying to..."
But the woman was gone. Through the isles outside Electronics, he could barely see her retreating back as she hurried for the exit. He almost ran after her, but the pain in his wrist made him reconsider. Instead, he called the Manager, and from there the police.
But in the days that followed the investigation seemed to go nowhere. Buried under dozens of other cases of assault. Over time everyone seemed to forget; the police had more important matters to attend to than a bruised wrist. And the woman never came back. Over time Kurt himself embellished the story; regaling everyone about how he tried to rescue the damsel in distress, only for Stockholm syndrome to carry her away before he could.
He never mentioned the eyes. The coldness. Nor the hope to never see her again. It was a feather in his cap as a nice guy, nothing more. Overtime, he forgot that the number in his contacts was even hers, and deleted it on impulse.
And so her trail vanished, as though she'd never been there at all.
AN: And now get introduced to the meat and potatoes of the next arc. The Summoning Committee is gathering in all their bickering glory. That was actually the hardest part of this chapter to write. My notes on Doctor Bennett are: 'have him speak a lot without saying anything.' It was very fun writing out, but once I got to editing it was a nightmare to work through. It's why I'm not entirely satisfied with this one. Goto's scene was meant to formally introduce members of the Summoning Committee, but it still doesn't feel quite right. Like Bennett, it seems to meander all over the place and I can't fix it. I hope it got the point across.
But overall, it gets the point across and flows rather well. Goofy fairy shenanigan, a transition to William lowering the tempo, Goto and his new job levelling the mood out, and then Kurt's near brush with death.
So yeah, not entirely happy with it, but it works... I might be turning into Tod Howard before too long. "It just works."
