Hoshino blinked. Frigid, she turned. Her shotgun moved without her thinking about it.
Black Suit raised a single hand.
…
And nothing. She didn't pull the trigger; Black Suit was unharmed, his hand still in the air. He returned his hand to his pants pocket; Hoshino's shotgun remained in place.
Cold.
Cold as though Hoshino were under a waterfall in winter, and every drop passed right through her.
Cold as though an icy knife laid flat across her entire body. An uncuttable, immaterial thread held taut around Hoshino's trigger finger.
Intuiting there was something profane about speaking the name of the dead so soon, especially being who he was, Black Suit spoke circuitously. "All those signal towers the empire built – many of them are still operational. Even as the Abydos Student Council's funds dwindled, they kept the power on. It is light work to triangulate a phone's signal."
"I… should…" kill you? The words seized in her mind, in a superposition between verity and folly. To speak them would inflame something – something reaching towards an illusory alternative truth, through sharp rebar and glass. The farther it traveled, the more strength drained from her; weakness bloomed from her heart like an insidious flower, its roots wrapping around her arms, legs, and neck.
Hoshino quivered, her voice barely as whisper: "No…" Her arms couldn't keep her shotgun level. She bared her teeth; last night's demon flickered on her face, gone just as fast. The weight of what Black Suit said made her lungs creak. Hoshino's lips bent into a shallow "m".
Black Suit pulled something from his pants pocket. With a flick of his wrist, he threw something small and it spun. It landed in front of Hoshino: a business card. "Now isn't the right time, but you'll know when. Take that with you."
Hoshino turned and dashed away.
Black Suit watched Hoshino's back shrink in the distance and disappear as she turned the corner. Even after terrorizing Abydos' resident gangsters all night, her agility was a marvel.
With the alleyway empty, Black Suit sighed and adjusted his collar. Steel creaked from above, and something landed beside him. Black Suit would have missed it if he weren't listening for it.
"You stopped me." Black Suit turned towards the voice. It was a student. A halo floated red above her head. Its base was a core radiating arrows towards an invisible surface. The wings of the arrowheads extended a bit, not quite connecting but closing enough to make two illusory squares that overlapped into a broken, eight-pointed star. The student cradled an assault rifle in her arms. It was worn but kept functional through careful maintenance. Even in the shade, her hair flashed maroon down to her back. A cloth mask covered her nose and mouth.
Black Suit understood that her statement was less of a question and more an explanation: you stopped me, so I did not help you – not, why did you stop me? Nevertheless, Black Suit sought to answer that latter question anyway. When he first found this student, he thought her incurious. Such a trait smothered innovation, which is not far from improvisation – an essential skill in a life-or-death situation. "This outcome was secured when I revealed my intentions. She will come back for the card."
The student gave a light scoff, a rare work-time expression of her internal world. "It's not like you to play with your life."
Black Suit shook his head. "She's just in grief. Shooting someone without a halo would be crossing into an entirely different world." Just as he said it, it occurred to him that he may be wasting his words on her. Black Suit peaked over his shoulder. The student's eyes scanned the ground. "We're not doing diversions here."
The student's eyes wandered a bit more.
"Inna."
The girl's eyes glided to Black Suit. It was as though watching somebody look at him through the scope of a gun. Memories of an ominous habit she used to have came to mind. A recent amendment to her contract restrained her, but only after many Kaiser associates suffered damages and requested hazard pay. Inna spoke. "This isn't going to be the breakthrough you're looking for. It isn't firepower you're lacking." Inna adjusted the rifle in her arms; Black Suit gave a slow nod, turning to leave the alleyway.
"As she is, she would require training. That's not the point. She has something else we need."
Inna hummed in understanding from behind him. "It's that, huh. You really are a vulture."
Black Suit laughed softly as they left that business card in the alleyway wreathed in early-morning shadows. "It will be simple quid pro quo. Equal values exchanged."
The hinges of the door creaked as Hoshino entered her home. As she closed it behind her, the slight echo of the metal clicking into place lingered in the room; her hand was slow to leave the doorknob.
Hoshino lightly hit the side of her head on the door's wood. She slid down to the floor and, with a single movement, threw her shotgun's shoulder strap over her head. Her fingers fumbled with the zipper on her tactical vest. After it frustrated her efforts three times, she hooked the base of the zipper with her nail and drug it down, discarding the stuffy piece of equipment.
Hoshino hugged herself, curling into her bent knees. She tensed her body, attempting to quell the shivers and cease thinking of those words.
Say, Hoshino. Do you want to know where Yume is?
Nausea made her head sway. It was wrong – he was wrong. If it were anybody else – anybody other than that person – if he didn't know exactly what to say…
What should she do? The more she thought of him, the more she tied her own hands, and a corrupted word crossed her mind: necessity.
Yet she could no more work with that man than could she drink crude oil. It was Hoshino who had been at Yume's side, not him. It was Hoshino who wasn't there That Day.
Hoshino had to take responsibility. That's why it could only be her… that's why, even if it took…
How long? How long could she take responsibility for refusing him, when Yume was still out there?
The question fell into the ether where there were answers, but they were kept far apart – long enough to be swallowed by dust and become mistakes in the making.
The backpack she had taken to the desert rested across the room, the canteen of water hanging from its side. Before Hoshino had rampaged, she had touched base here, but not for long. It felt haunted.
With her second return, it was worse. She rationalized how her sanctuary felt invaded, but it did not assuage her disquiet. Her peace balanced on a thin pole, and it tilted with every breath she took. Hoshino breathed light and slow.
She recalled how students studying medicine gained a slight paranoia, thinking that they had symptoms of the diseases they studied. It was illusory, most of the time. One or two symptoms become sufficient for the student to infer a syndrome.
But Yume was dead. Something called her to cross that desert. It felt as though the walls were written with invisible things-left-unsaid. Everything Yume had touched became a hint. By the force of idle pattern recognition, Hoshino's train of thought swerved from possibility to possibility – from danger to danger. Even if Hoshino wished to pull the breaks, she couldn't. It felt like betrayal; it felt like closing her eyes.
Hoshino's head was cloudy. She got up and took a shower, switching to pajamas even though it was early afternoon. When she laid down in bed, the stiffness of her spine and back thawed. This was the first feeling of comfort she has had in two days. Hoshino hugged her stuffed whale plush, curling her body around it even when her head slid from her pillow.
She buried her face into the plush's soft fabric, then pulled back, leaving enough space that it was as though she were touching foreheads with someone. With her eyes closed, she imagined Yume.
It was the beginning of Fall. Hoshino had a fever, and she had messaged Yume to say she was going to be out for the day. Yume arrived within minutes, to Hoshino's surprise.
Hoshino blurted out, Wha-? I told you that I had a fever- Yume touched her forehead to Hoshino's. W-w-w-w-what are you doing?! Hoshino babbled like an idiot, but she had not backed away.
I'm taking your temperature…
You use a thermometer for that!
And I got one right here on my forehead. Yume smiled as though she had eaten a cloud. With the medicine Yume brought, Hoshino was better the next day.
Hoshino felt hot all over. She curled her body further, the whale plush forgotten. She felt so feverish she could die.
She threw her legs over her bedside, sitting with her face in her hands. Flowing, golden dunes flitted behind her eyelids; thirst welled up just at the image. It was as though she hadn't left at all.
Her legs would give out if she stood up again. It was over for today. It may be over for tomorrow, too.
But Hoshino thought of Yume.
Hoshino's gaze lingered on her backpack. Bracing her hands on her knees, she slowly stood. Her legs shook. The soreness morphed into weakness, then they gave. With her hands, Hoshino barely prevented a collision with the floor.
Sitting there, legs like the wings of a butterfly on either side of her body, Hoshino turned to lead. Her mind returned to that alleyway; she thought of that business card.
A trickle of arctic salt water entered her lungs. Her breath froze. Is it still…
Hoshino banished the treacherous thought before she could complete it, but her body testified: the aching of her bruised hands, the creaking of her knees, how despite being on the floor for only a minute her legs fell asleep, how when she placed her hands on her neck she was burning.
"I… " don't think I can do it. Hoshino bowed to the ground. I…
But Hoshino thought of Yume.
Hoshino's forehead pressed against the floor. She clenched her teeth as she bent her back, bracing herself with her elbows. Taking a deep breath, she sat up, then turned around and struggled to climb on her bed again.
Yume would want me to get better. As she laid down, a trickle of delirium curved her mouth upwards. Now is not the time.
As light as a bird's feather-dandruff touching a blade of grass, the thought came: how fast do the elements affect a body?
Hoshino's mouth was a straight line again. She twisted the blankets in her hands and bit hard on them. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.
Even as she wallowed, Hoshino thought of Yume. She thought of what Yume believed. She thought of what Yume would say.
… Say.
Her phone was right next to her on her nightstand. She reached for it and navigated to a familiar contact. As the call went instantly to voicemail, a voice sang out.
"Hello~, you have reached Kuchinashi Yume, the President of the Abydos Student Council! I'm busy doing something right now – but I promise to get back to you! Thank you for reaching out. If you're going so far to call me… I just know that we have the same dream for Abydos. No matter what, we're going to get through this – together."
Hoshino hung onto every word. With eyes open, she played it again. This time, honing onto every sentence. Then she played it again, sinking into one line.
"… No matter what, we're going to get through this – together."
Again and again, like a lullaby, that voice sang. Hoshino kept calling. The intervals between each stretched longer. Hoshino closed her eyes and listened, her finger hovering just above either her contact or the end-call button, two taps from that song. Hoshino nuzzled a bit deeper into her pillow. The song played until its ending escaped her, and she fell into a deep, peaceful slumber.
A/N: Hoshino carves out a little sanctuary within the storm. But will she remain firm? As time goes on, and the goal remains out of reach, the thread of necessity binds your fingers tightly and makes you reevaluate your choices. Do stay tuned.
Also, an important OC got introduced: Inna. I got something interesting cooking for y'all. I make no promises on being 100% compliant with her inspirations. Knowers know.
Thank you for reading. Until next time.