Rating: T for mature and sensitive subject matters.
Timeline: 10 years post Revolution, a few weeks post Fate Train Transfer
Notable "Mysteries" Covered: Nemuro Hall, Child Broiler, Million Swords, Fate Train, Shadow Girls, Invisible People
Summary (or rather, Excerpt): “The revolution succeeded; it crumbled afterwards only because those whose lives got revolutionized did not follow up on the revolutionary success,” said the Bride, her words setting their closed hearts aflame. “This time, will you help us help you?”
After what seems like an eternity of non-fic writing, I have again written something in tribute of this timeless shoujo anime classic. This is a work dedicated to the passionate, wonderful people at In the Rose Garden (fic thread here), which even now remains the coolest place for Utena fans to hang out online.
Other sites hosting this fic includes:
http://gorgeousshutin.livejournal.com/
http://www.fanfiction.net/s/8086621/1/Seinen_Kakumei_Utena
http://archiveofourown.org/works/432468/chapters/732392
Notes:
At last, we’ve gotten to the “Missing Link” portion of the story - a series of chapters devoted to revealing
the complicated backstory of Seinen Kakumei Utena. Largely set in the Nemuro Research Era, this part shall focus on
how Tokiko came to be a pawn in Akio’s sinister game, as well as how those
surreal Mawaru-Penguindrum elements came to be. Even at the risk of making the fic even longer than it already
is, I’ve written Miki’s father into the story because it fits just right. Oh, and I think everyone could tell just who
those trio of girls following the future Mrs. Ohtori around really were.
Seinen Kakumei Utena
Utena and its characters belong to its various owners.
WARNING: Parts of this work contain depictions of transphobia, controversial shoujo fantasy trans situation that in no way reflects real life trans people, and misogynic magic attack leading to forced masculinization
Part Eight: Missing Link I
Time: 10 years post-revolution
Place: Chida Mansion
“Nemuro-kun . . . please endure,”
They had since reentered the room of stars, and have since laid Nemuro
down over the red canopy draped bed – now attached to a cluttering of EU
operating room equipments. Donning
surgery gloves and masks just like the EU nurses, all four penguins now were
crowded around the pink-haired man, as they started “operating” on him under
Chida Tokiko’s pained, worried gaze; Nemuro himself was expressionless to the
point of appearing almost mannequin-like, like he really was the computer-like
man people from their other lifetime had labeled him as, back when-
“Chida-san,”
Turning around, Tokikio saw that the Shadow Boys, both standing beside
Kozue, now were “semi-illuminated” as they watched her with visible eyes
clouded with questions.
“The graying Indian man said you had this Fate Diary,” said S-taro, his
voice airy and brittle around the edges, “was it pink, with two dragons on the
front cover, and a sea turtle on the back?”
He raised his voice, its sound urgent and demanding. “Are you related to the Oginome
family?”
“The Indian was involved in the Kiga Subway attack, wasn’t he?” K-taro’s voice and expression were tension
filled, edgy. “Was he working for
Sanetoshi? You guys were talking about this
Fate Train Research . . . is that what you people call the attack?” The boy now
was as fearful as he was angry. “You .
. . you had a laser-thingy that looks just like Masako’s . . . were you part of
Kiga?”
Brown eyes glinting with more than reflected lights, Tokiko observed the
boys for a brief, quiet moment, prior to speaking.
“I see you’re both remembering a lot of things,” she said. “Would you mind telling me your real
names? I’d rather call you boys
something a little more formal than K-taro and S-taro.” S-taro opened his mouth as if to reply, but
stopped as K-taro tugged on his hand.
“Boys!” Kozue chided them for
their distrust against their main helper.
“It’s okay,” soothed Tokiko, before again facing the Shadow Boys
somberly. “I think I’m now closer to
finding out your true identities than I ever was before . . . small world, indeed.” Her voice and expression
grew even more somber. “I did
eventually find out about Watase Sanetoshi, and what the boy was to
become. There is one thing about the
late Kiga Leader I’m certain of: he had to be the one working for the
Graying Indian Man, and not the other way around.” She glanced off and away into the distance. “With the Ends of the World, it’s never the
other way around.” Behind her, the
penguins continued their work on Nemuro, who bore the cutting and prying in
motionless silence. “The day I fell
into his trap must’ve been over thirty years ago.”
***
Time: 20 + years pre-revolution
Place: Ohtori Academy, Japan Branch
“So how’d you find the place, Tokiko-kun?” asked the Acting Chairman, a
towering, exotic man now smiling down upon her with even teeth that seemed all
the whiter against the rich tone of his dark complexion.
“Well . . .” Chida Tokiko, Project Inspector sent forth by the Board of
Directors, made a show of studying the fine, almost cathedral-like architecture
of the prestigious private academy, all the while cursing the heat on her face
that she knew would betray an unbecoming flush, “this certainly looks more than
equipped for peaceful studying.” She
had not taken on this job to court handsome men; this was all for the sake of .
. . a slip on an inconspicuously stone-resembling patch of ice sent her sliding
sideways . . . and right into the Acting Chairman’s solid embrace.
“Careful,” he spoke, his breath a little too ticklish against her ear.
“Thank you,” she quickly straightened up and away from him; handsome as
the Acting Chairman might be, he really was acting too familiar with her. “The fault is mine for venturing out without
winter boots, thinking the snow should’ve melted with spring so close.”
“The snow doesn’t melt easily around these parts,” said the man, hands
in his coat pockets, smothering eyes on her, “which, considering the topic of
the Research, seems appropriate.”
Tokiko, studying the snow stains marring her velvet high heels, felt a
pang in her heart.
“Yes . . .”
“ . . . don’t think we’ve been introduced formally before, Professor.”
At the voice and the footsteps, Tokiko looked to the distance (how sound
could travel in crisp winter air) to see a male student hot on the heels of a
pink-haired man who somehow managed to appear understated despite his violet
jacket and shades. The student
(nondescript by comparison) extended his hand to the man. “Inoue, Inoue-”
“Inoue Tsukiichi,” the pink-haired man – whom Tokiko now recognized as
the renowned genius Professor Nemuro, Project Coordinator of the revolutionary
research which drew her here working as its inspector – walked on without
stopping. “I’ve come across your name
on the file listing.”
Even at the bluntly dismissive reply, Inoue Tsukiichi picked up his
steps as he kept on chasing after the professor, following him up a flight of
snow-coated steps; there was a flash of magenta glint as he moved, drawing
Tokiko’s attention to the rather flamboyant ring on his left hand-
“Tokiko-kun?” Akio called back to her from where he now stood a little
further ahead.
“Ah,” Tokiko hurriedly caught up to the man. “Sorry to keep you-” Her
perfunctory apology got cut short by his hand clasping down upon her
waist.
“Your waist is so small,” his purr reminded her of a languid lion, “I can wrap both hands completely around
it.”
There was a flash of red-colored . . . something fluttering briefly
across a corner of her vision (looking like a flag? a dress?), disappearing
almost immediately upon the split second that she saw it. Either way, the distraction was enough for
to break whatever charming spell the sensuous man was weaving around her, as
Tokiko quickly armored herself up with the glacial poise she often used against
overtly eager men in the workplace.
“Rumor has it that your hands are big enough to keep even Chairman
Ohtori right in your palm, Acting Chairman-san.”
Giving no hint of having been stung, the Acting Chairman tilted his head
back and laughed. “Purely rumors, of
course.” His deep-set green eyes
glanced sideways down upon her. “Who’s
been spreading them, I wonder?”
Tokiko smiled saccharinely back up at him. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
His hand retracted, and she spoke no more for the rest of their walk to
the faculty office.
***
Back home, she found four pairs of little girl shoes at the door - with one pair smaller and significantly
more expensive than the others – and knew that her brother had again been
inviting his new friends over.
“Chida Nee-san,” a blue-haired little girl, exquisite as a well-crafted
doll given life in her luxuriant frilly dress, came into view giving the woman
a dainty bow, “welcome back. I’ve come
by to bring Mamiya-kun some of my class notes, and is just about to leave.”
“Thank you, Hoshimi-chan.”
Tokiko beamed indulgently at the young lady, and at the taller, older
trio in less fancy dresses having since come up from behind. “Ayako-chan, Byako-chan, Cyako-chan; good to
see you girls here.”
“Hi, Chida Nee-chan~” replied the three via their a synchoized, theatrical-sounding
chorus, before they skipped foreward to swarm her from all sides in fluttery,
colorful blurs not unlike that of flapping moth wings.
“Well, how’d you find the Acting Chairman?”
“Isn’t he every bit the fox we say he is?”
“And every bit as dangerous!”
“We knew he weaseled his way to power somehow!”
“Why would the Academy need an Acting Chairman when the real Chairman is
alive and well-”
“Girls.” Ohtori Hoshimi
called out in a quietly warning voice rather precocious for her years – one that
signified her status as said real Chairman’s only child – and the trio of older
students all backed off from a mildly overwhelmed Tokiko to regroup by the
younger girl’s side entourage-like.
“Pardon their exuberance, for they’re members of the Drama Club.”
“Oh no,” Tokiko quickly reoriented herself as she smiled graciously at
these children. “Thank you all for
coming by to see Mamiya.” “Did he . . .
?”
“We made sure Chida-kun took his medicine right after eating, and that
he got back to bed an hour afterwards,” assured Hoshimi; Tokiko relaxed.
“Mamiya is lucky to have a bright young lady as yourself as his pen pal
and friend, Hoshimi-chan; you even helped him make so many lovely friends so
soon after our coming here.” She made sure to include the other girls into the
conversation so they would not feel left out – ill feelings festered easily
between such children.
To Tokiko’s surprise, Byako giggled as if having heard a biting
joke. “Oh, Chida-kun made more
than just friends here, Nee-chan.”
Ayako was already eagerly
leaning forward. “Do you know? Do you know? Do you wonder what we know?”
Cyako clasped her hands together while kicking a foot backwards. “The little prince falls for the sweet rose
blossoming in the vipers’ pit; drama ensues-”
“Girls!” Ohtori Hoshimi raised her voice at them – rather harshly, this
time – prior to speaking softly to Tokiko.
“Pardon their crude manners, for they’re of common origins.” The trio traded ironic hurt looks from
behind the stern-faced girl’s back.
Tokiko could do little but to smile warmly at them all.
As the girls were leaving, the trio took turns whispering furtively in
the woman’s ears while their young mistress was busy with donning her jacket
and shoes.
“Watch out for a guy called Inoue Tsukiichi from among the hundred
working under Professor Nemuro.”
“The man is keen on marrying into the Ohtori fortune, and will stop at
nothing to achieve this goal.”
“Girls . . . !” Hoshimi, already beyond the opened door, called back to
her “friends” in the tone of one calling after straying dogs they were
walking.
“Then . . . au revoir!” said one of the trio – Tokiko could not discern
who was who amidst their rapid, theatrical dancing around – before they all
flitted out of the door hurrying after the Ohtori heiress, who was already
getting onto her chauffered family sedan.
Locking the door behind the girls prior to letting out the sigh she had
been holding in all along, the woman finally got to check on the one to have
invited the girls over – the very reason why she had gotten the job at Ohtori’s
Board of Directors – her terminally ill younger brother, whom all the doctors
had long since given up on.
Said brother was clearly awake in his bed, his doe-like brown eyes
narrowing in a (Languid? Weary?) smile at seeing her.
“Nee-san.”
“You should be asleep by now,” she chided while sitting down on the
stool cushion beside the bed. “Did you
behave yourself in front of the ladies, Mamiya?”
Mamiya rolled a thin shoulder. “What could I possibly do to them that
can count as misbehaving?”
Tokiko knocked her brother lightly on the forehead. “Don't say such
stupid things, you brat.”
Mamiya let out a light chuckle . . . one that betrayed his shortness of
breath; Tokiko felt her heart sank: the many medications were having very
little effects on his ever-weakening state, after all.
“Hey, Mamiya?”
“Hmm?”
“Have you been going to the
Academy by yourself?”
All at once, all the jocular mannerism vanished off of her brother, to
be replaced by the hardened, guarded look the boy had been displaying with
increasing frequency as per the decay of his health: no, Nee-san, the roses
would not be happy having been made to last so long; no, Nee-san, the flowers
would not be happy with keeping their petals only to never bear fruit; no,
Nee-san, I’m fine with dying like any other terminally ill human being –
I do not wish for eternity, especially not one that will keep me being twelve
forever and ever . . .
“You’re taking all your
courses here by correspondence,” biting back developing tears, Tokiko’s pressed
on with her words, which came out a notch harsh sounding. “There’s really no need for you to-”
“Did the skinny trio say something to you?” asked her brother, boyish
tenor blunt and stinging.
“Mamiya,” Tokiko willed her voice and expression to soften, so as not to
agitate the frail boy. “I know you like
Hoshimi-chan, and that she likes you . . . but Hoshimi-chan is not an ordinary
girl,” and certainly not without her flaws, thought the woman. “As Chairman’s Ohtori’s only child, her
husband will inherit from her leadership over the entire the Ohtori clan. Even though Hoshimi-chan is still so young,
there are already a number of people out there who are keen on possessing
her. For you to join in the fray-”
“It’s shameless,” Mamiya gritted out the words with as much hatred as
his young mind could muster up, “all those men acting like they’re courting
Ohtori-chan when they’re all just after the money and power; rabid old goats.”
Tokiko, who did not know whether she should laugh or cry at her
twelve-year old brother’s condemnation of the late teens in the Research as
being “old goats”, settled for hanging her head.
“I see Ohtori-chan,” her innocent, ailing brother went on. “I’m the only one who do; I will be her
prince even if it cost me my everything!”
Exhaling in exasperation, Tokiko wordlessly began the mechanical process
of setting up the gadgets for Mamiya’s sleep-aiding injection, all the while
hoping that Ohtori’s Reseach could shed more hope upon her brother’s
increasingly hopeless-seeming health situation.
A few days later, having finally acquired all the proper paper work,
Tokiko went straight for Professor Nemuro, intent on making him speed up the
revolutionary Research on Eternity – not for the Academy, of course, but for
her brother; for slowing or perhaps maybe even stopping the ever-worsening
decay of his failing body.
Student assistants, their stances assured and worldly despite the
ill-looking design of the Ohtori boy’s uniform they had to wear, could be seen
milling about at every nook and corner of the research building; Tokiko could
not help but again notice how they all were donning rings identical to the one
she saw on Inoue Tsukiichi – the very one Ohtori Hoshimi’s entourage had warned
her about. A number of them were
carrying uprooted young trees around – were those relevant to the
Research? With the plants looking so
leafless and dry, the woman wondered what was the point of protecting their
likely deadened roots by keeping them under wraps . . .
That was then that she saw.
Redness – the same crimson shade as what she saw just days ago while the
Acting Chairman was putting the moves on her – could be seen fluttering out
from beyond a dim, shadowy corner to the side.
This time, the woman could see that it was actually a piece of puffed,
creased fabric likely belonging to a full length-ed, full bottom dress, and it
now flowed adrift upon the air in spite of how it was winter indoor. Curiosity piqued, Tokiko stepped up towards
the ill-lit corner . . .
“So that's Professor Nemuro, the genius? And he really doesn't know
about our current research subject?”
“Looks that way. But, the Professor's intellect is warranted by
you-know-who.”
Startled by the conversation’s topic – and the fact that she recognized
one of the nasally teen boy voices to be Inoue Tsukiichi’s – Tokiko lightened
her steps as she moved soundlessly up to the corner, and peeked around -
“His thesis is interesting, but the man himself is quite dry,” Inoue
Tsukiichi, cigarette between his lips, leaned towards another paler, also
cigarette suckling boy, igniting the latter’s tip in a rather intimate manner;
ironically, the two happened to be standing right underneath a “NO SMOKING”
sign.
“Let him act how he wants, Inoue-san,” smoky gaze upon bright-eyed
Inoue, the paler boy inhaled deeply, prior to taking the cigarette between two
fingers to speak better – the rose motif ring glinting under the dim lights as
per his hand movement. “People who act
like him can make enemies without realizing it, and that will be his downfall.”
“Ha, I don’t care enough about the Professor to want his downfall – he
is just like a computer.” Exhaling
clouds of smoke, Inuoe took out his cigarette as he leaned towards the other
boy such that the tips of their noses now are touching. “We’ll use him for all he's worth . . .
Kaoru-san.”
Instead of backing away, the boy Kaoru spoke with his pouty lips
brushing against Inuoe’s thinner ones. “How are things proceeding with
Ohtori-chan?”
“Proceeding as planned.”
“Then it’s all good. With you
being a secured item with Ohtori-chan, and me having a hold on the Acting
Chairman’s sister, the world is ours.
And when we’re alone like this . . .” With that, the boys went through
the door marked “REAR EXIT”, their lusty chuckles audible until the door shut
itself behind them.
Neither noticed the key left on the floor: one that had slipped out of
Inuoe Tsukiichi’s pocket during the more than friends’ sizzling conspiring
earlier on. Deftly picking up the
item, she slipped it into her own pocket and went on her way to the meeting
with Professor Nemuro.
Homosexual liaisons among the Research’s assistants were not her concern
. . . if not for the fact that the boys involved were both romantically linked
with girls of power and prestige in the Academy – with one of the boys being
her ailing brother’s love rival, even.
Did Mamiya know about this? Was
that why he was so hostile towards the Research and its assistants?
And there was also another matter that concerned her as the Inspector
overseeing the Research – that the student assistants harbor ill feelings
towards Professor Nemuro, Research Coordinator. Unsurprising, considering how the man was both brilliant and
cold – an awe-inducing yet alienating combination. However she looked at it, this could only be detrimental to the
already difficulty-plagued Research; just one more thing she needed to go over
with the Professor.
Vaguely, she wondered about just where had that red-dressed person that
had lead her to eavesdropping on the boys disappeared off into; having no clues
to follow up on, the woman had no choice but to redirect her focus upon what
was coming up ahead.
***
“You're the Research Coordinator, Professor Nemuro, right?
“I was sent by the Board of Directors.
“I'm here as their current inspector, Chida Tokiko. Pleased to meet
you.”
***
Tokiko’s first impression of Professor Nemuro was that he was every bit
the socially-inept, computer-like genius she thought he would be.
“You’ve called me all the way out to your house, so what do you want?”
asked the man – the very first man to have reacted so coldly to being invited
to her home. She tried to lighten the
atmosphere into one more conductive for conversation with inane small talk
(although she was indeed mystified by the hourglass running so peculiarly slow
during the tea making), but the Professor would have none of that.
“This job I was given is running its course as planned,” stated the man,
apparently seeing right through her intent to make him hurry his Research. “I can't guarantee completion, however.”
“I know that you’re not one for taking orders from others . . .” Tokiko
then tried to butter up the Professor by praising his genius-quality; said
genius, however, dismissed her attempt, as he then had the gall to lecture
her on the sheer arrogance of mere humans trying to grasp eternity (this from
the Research Coordinator advancing the work) . . .
Just when the conversation was about to degenerate into an argument,
Mamiya’s sneaking out of bed into the greenhouse broke the tension. Even as she harshly scolded her brother for
again endangering his fragile health, she noticed Professor Nemuro’s wide-eyed
expression (one that made him looked more like a wonder-filled youth than a
haughty genius), and realized that she had been crying.
While running off after uttering quick apologies (no way could she
reveal runny makeup in front of a near-stranger), Tokiko noticed her usually
unsociable little brother being exceptionally amiable towards the Professor,
who appeared awkward yet sincere as he conversed with the ailing boy. Having speedily cleaned up as she hurried
back to the greenhouse, she found to her surprise the boy and man still getting
along well in spite of their equally incompetent social skills.
That was the moment she started letting down her guard against the
Professor: any man willing to know and be kind to her brother was good in her
book.
After putting her brother in bed and having made him take his injection,
Tokiko continued on the conversation with Nemuro, this time in a more sincere
manner:
“It's for his sake, that I'm involved in this.
“The doctors have told me that there's nothing left but to give up hope.
“But if the research succeeds . . .”
Even with his stance softened by empathy, Nemuro’s words remained blunt
as ever. “ The research has nothing to
do with medicine; even if it succeeds, it may not help your brother's illness.”
“But, maybe I could grasp eternity for him,” insisted Tokiko, studying
the mirror against which she placed her picture with Mamiya in a vain attempt
to cool the budding desperation in her heart.
From the mirror’s reflection, she saw something glimmering within
Nemuro’s now much warmer eyes – something definitely more than mere pity
– and Tokiko found herself actually becoming a little bashful. “I'm sorry for
crying like this.”
“It's all right,” Nemuro assured her, the understated tenderness of his
current expression brought out the true beauty of his exquisitely androgynous
features, revealing the “computer-like genius” to also be a humanly attractive
man.
“Is there someone important in your life?” she could not help but ask,
even knowing that for once, it was her being too-familiar with the opposite
sex. “Or is it that geniuses never fall
in love with other people?”
“So it would seem,” murmured Nemuro, his faint blush showing evidence to
the contrary.
A light, impish titter
could faintly be heard in the air – one that they knew to be from Mamiya’s room
– giving away the fact that her sharp-eared little brother had been
eavesdropping on them all along, and had managed to read between their lines
with his precocious mind.
“Oh, the brat . . .” Tokiko raised a hand to her own face, and
found it red hot to her great mortification.
Surprisingly, it was Nemuro who started chuckling first, with her too
joining in soon afterwards.
This was, perhaps, a rather insignificant moment in her frantic
day-to-day; but Tokiko could not help but think that should she have eternity
in her grasp, she would want for times like this to last more than a while
longer.
***
Under Tokiko’s supervision, Nemuro started devoting a lot more effort
into the Research, with his peculiar experiments now producing more definite
results than ever.
“All the other trees have since withered away within a month after
getting uprooted, un-watered, and placed out of the sun,” he said to her,
gesturing at the dried, leafless trees in the ill-lit underground lab, none
taller than a young prepubescent lad, prior to pointing at one that had not
only remained full-leafed, but were sprouting small buds. “This one, however, flourishes on as if
still rooted upon fertile soil under the sun; at this rate, its buds may even
blossom into full bloom.”
“Incredible,” Tokiko gently caressed the tree’s fresh, supple leaves,
her manicured fingertips brushing against the small, green buds. “Could this be . . . an apple tree?”
“Malus domestica,” replied
Nemuro – fitting that he would term the plant by its binominal name, “under
Rosaceae.” His voice, however, was warm
at the edges. “I thought you’d find
this less than impressive after having seen the Arena and the Castle.”
Yes . . . there were those too: the arena hidden behind a forest, up in
the sky, over which hovered an upside down castle said to contain
eternity. She would never have had
believed in the existences of such logic-defying things, if not for that mind
boggling tour Nemuro gave her showcasing his research’s progress thus far. Even with the definite, complicated equations
involved in their eventual harnessing – those were not man-made creations, as
the genius professor had told her, but rather, pre-existing cosmic entities
partially accessed by human means – it all still seemed surreally magical to
her.
“Those were indeed . . . impressive, but what you have here is so much
more relevant to what we’re . . .” something occurred to the Project Inspector
then. “But onward growth goes rather
against the concept of eternity, doesn’t it?”
She saw Nemuro’s lips quirking in a conspiratory smirk. “I want to steer the Research in a direction
that can best help even a terminally ill child recover and grow.”
Tokiko’s heart skipped at beat at the man’s frankness. “Nemuro-san . . .” even while heady with
exuberance – a emotion she had not felt since her parents’ death, since taking
on the crippling burden of being her sickly brother’s sole caretaker – the
Project Inspector still kept herself clear-headed enough to ask the important
questions. “But what about the students
working at the neighboring section?
Surely they will not approve of the Research going off course.”
“My contract with the Academy allows for me to keep secret the details
of my work to even my assistants – who are contracted to carry out the tasks I
give them without question.” Nemuro’s violet eyes narrowed behind his
shades. “Besides, the boys in the
neighboring section haven’t exactly been frank with me regarding what they’ve
been doing on their end either.”
Tokiko arched a brow at his words.
So Nemuro had noticed the blatant cover up regarding the student
assistants’ work right in this same research building – work that even she, the
Project Inspector, had been denied full access due to the intricacies in their
contracts – noticed, but cared not.
“Not like I care what they’ve been up to anyway,” Nemuro’s words confirmed
her belief. “So long as they stay out
of my way, it’s fine.”
Tokiko wanted to tell the Professor that he should care; that it was
always what people overlooked that proved their downfall. He had to realize how he was up against
young vipers wearing the skins of youths – most of whom more malevolent than
the science-focused genius could ever hope to be. Already, they’re keeping research progress from even him, their
Research Coordinator. Should he continue on underestimating them-
Flump . . .
The sound of fluttering fabrics startled the preoccupied woman into
turning sharply towards the glass-screen lab door, through which she again
saw that enigmatic fluttering red dress – this time in much greater detail than
before.
It was a medieval princess costume, one tailored in a full bottom style
so theatrical as to be almost cartoon-ish by modern standards. At first glance, it looked like the
windswept (despite their being indoor) dress was hovering phantom-like in the
ill-lit hallway; a closer look revealed its wearer to be a petite female (one
probably still in her teens, judging by her figure) whose hair was done
up in a rigid, chucky updo, whose features were completely shrouded under
shadows; glasses, glinting as ice patches, gave away the coldly watchful gaze
Tokiko knew was pointing at her like an icy blade.
“Who are you?” she asked, already rushing towards the lab door. The cluttered “failed” trees were scraping
at the fine material of her garments . . . which soon got tangled up against
various leafless branches. By the time
she finally managed to get up to that door, the red-dressed girl was already
nowhere to be found; only an apple, bearing that exact same shade of crimson as
the dress, remained upon the floor.
Picking it up, she studied the sticker bearing the text “KIGA APPLE”,
with a penguin motif printed underneath the words. Feeling indentions under her fingertips, she turned the fruit
around to discover the letters carved onto the crimson skin:
FATE
What in the world . . . ?
Nemuro had by now came up to beside her. “Tokiko-san?”
“Nemuro-san, that girl in the red dress had been watching us through the
lab door,” she said, feeling her heart racing,
“did you see where she go?”
“I did not see anyone,” he got a better look at the apple in her
hand. “This is . . .”
Under their incredulous gazes, the carved letters started fading quickly
off the apple’s surface, disappearing completely off the fruit’s surface.
Tokiko squinted her eyes at the apple’s now unblemished skin. “Is this . . . regeneration? But . . . there
should at least have been scar tissues left behind . . .” She handed the apple to Nemuro, who studied
it with his cool, analytical gaze.
“Reversal of state,” stated the genius Professor, “like the ‘time’ of
this apple has been made to reverse, even while our time flows on; like the
snow accumulation outside remaining frozen despite the rising temperatures, or
that hourglass running slow the first time you invited me over for tea.” His
frown deepened. “I’ve long since suspected that something is affecting the flow
of time around the Academy and its surrounding areas; is this phenomenon
related to the Research?” Tokiko
studied the man’s expression for a brief, wordless moment.
“Nemuro-san, how much info have you got on the neighboring section’s
Fate Train Theorm?” She saw, to her non-surprise, the startled reaction in him
that she expected – the Research Coordinator knew, but thought that she, the
Project Inspector, did not. “I’ve since
gone through all the profiles of the student assistants. Amongst them, Inoue Tsukiichi had entered
the Research with the top academic achievements. Even though the student researchers are
using their contracts as shield to keep even I from accessing details of their
work, there are those who will talk.”
Her voice darkened huskily.
“Apparently, Inoue Tsukiichi has been developing the Fate Train Theorem
away from the Board of Directors’ supervision - supposing that people’s fate
are as ‘trains’ upon which they are passengers, and that by ‘transferring
trains’ people could supposedly take on another fate while leaving their
original destiny behind. Despite its
outlandish nature, they say the Theorem’s development is nearing completion.”
Composing his expression, Nemuro placed the apple into a glass case,
where a narrow spotlight illuminated it as specimen on display.
“Fate,” he mulled the word over while fiddling with the contents of a
folder, “the peculiar subtopic the Academy has placed under our research –
which, by logic, should include only topics relevant to eternity. Even though the young men had told me
nothing but clumsy lies about what they do, there are those close to them eager
to ally themselves with me for their own gains, and they’ve been acting as my
eyes and ears all along. If their words
are to be believed, then somewhere within this building is a factory operated
by the neighboring division in secret.”
“A factory . . . here?” Tokiko
had not heard about this one before.
“Producing what?”
Having found what he was looking for, Nemuro produced a photo from the
folder, and handed it to Tokiko. The
Project Inspector could not help but be visibly baffled by what she saw.
“This is . . .?”
“They may not look it, but the data I got suggest that these are indeed
perpetual motion robots – ones infused with advanced AI, holographic
camouflages, among many other high tech components. One of their many functions is to channel their users’ brain
waves, thus serving as extensions of their persons accordingly . . . almost
like medieval familiar spirits being resurrected by cutting edge technology.”
The photo showed an opened card box on an angled conveyor belt, where
three blue, rotund objects looking suspiciously like children’s penguin stuff
toys were cluttered in its confines.
The card box had the same penguin motif as could be seen on the
time-reversed apple, underneath which the words "Pingroup Inc" remained faintly
visible upon the startlingly-high resolution image.
Turning her gaze towards the apple in the showcase – unmarred except for
the penguin motif sticker – Tokiko resolved to pry deeper into the neighboring
section’s research, to make sure that it will not jeopardize the miracle Nemuro
was trying to create via this Research.
She would allow nothing to stand in the way of her brother’s survival.
***
//“Professor Nemuro is awfully excited about the project recently, isn't
he?”//
//“Didn't the Board of Directors send an inspector?”//
//“She really seems to be just right for the job.”//
//“Can no one beat a genius at his game?”//
//“Then, does the Professor still not know what all this is about?”//
Playing one of the many tapes she recorded from the various spy bugs she
had since planted all around the research building, and listening via one single earphone (she
kept her other ear free to listen for potential intruders), Tokiko’s strained
attention perked as she finally came upon something relevant to what she wanted
to find out.
//“He can have his Upside Down Castle, we shall have our Hole in the
Sky,”// said a voice she recognized to be Inoue Tsukiichi’s. //“With all the mysteries of the world
clearly documented within the library’s infinite confines, there’s no way we’d
lose in this fixed race between Eternity versus Fate.”//
//“That Watase boy’s ‘familiar’ invention is like the icing on our
cake.”// said another voice – Kaoru Yuki, Inoue’s “friend”. //“You know, he keeps asking me about when
would he be formally allowed into the Research.”//
//“Like they would take a grade schooler onboard . . . kid should be
grateful that we’re realizing so many of his outlandish ideas with the
Research’s funding to begin with! I
can’t believe we’ve let him wrest us into designing the revolutionary perpetual
motion robot to look like a penguin toy.”//
//“Geniuses can be stubborn when they got fixated on something, and that
one-track-mindedness is what makes them easy to exploit. We shall win against Nemuro, and have that
which is promised to us by you-know-who.”//
“You-know-who . . . ” she tapped her manicured nail tips against her
desk, murmuring aloud in her puzzlment.
“Just what are the little vipers going to have?”
“A taste of the Fruit of Fate.”
The deep, masculine drawl coming from behind shocked Tokiko into almost
dropping her earphone. Turning around,
she saw, to her disbelief, the tall, imposing figure of Acting Chairman
Himemiya Akio being impossibly present in her locked office room; and she could
not even cry for help, not with the evidences of her illegal eavesdropping all
over her own office desk.
“Have you not come to this academy seeking eternity for your brother?”
asked the man, his dark, broad hand holding out an apple – one with the penguin
motif sticker – in front of her widened eyes.
“Here is eternity, right in front of your eyes . . . but whether you can
grasp it or not depends upon what you might, or might not, be willing to do.”
“You’re related to the girl in the red dress,” stated Tokiko, taking in
the contrast of dark skin against crimson shirt, all the while willing her
shaky voice to again be steady. “You’re
also the one in control of the hundred student assistants in place of Professor
Nemuro, and the one who apparently controls the powerful Ohtori Clan. Are you the reason behind the illogical,
mystical elements of the Research, as well as the unusual time flow around the
area? Just what are you, really?”
“So many questions, ” Silver-haired head shaking with mirth, Himemiya
Akio put down the apple, prior to producing a ring identical to those worn by
the student assistants, which he then dangled in front of her pallid face. “I can give you answer to that which you
ask, but it will require you being contracted to me via this ring.” Tokiko make
no move to take the ring. “I see you
hesitate still. By now, only one
question should remain for you: who do you think could save your brother in
time – me, or him?”
“Show me proof,” insisted the woman, refusing to back down even amidst
her growing uncertainties. “If you say
you can save Mamiya ahead of Nemuro-san, then show me how you do it!”
Akio’s devilish smirk broadened into a canines showing grin. “All that and more, I shall reveal to
you. I’ll show you the Ends of the
World; yes, even you.”
End Part Eight
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