Maybe I'm a Lion (KnK/Prototype Crossover)

[Zephyr]

Lio, Lio, if you can make Touko( aka miss walking doll) of all people think you are uncanny... What the hell did you just become?
His confesion is tragically hilarious... Nice job


Araya fucking with the Ryougi family since 55? Hell yeah, sounds like something he would do...


And again the chapter is long, but feels short...

[Ars Poetica]

So "Atavism" is your new favorite word? Mine's "Nadir".

[Dullahan]

So "Atavism" is your new favorite word? Mine's "Nadir".

'Nadir' is cool. In fact, a lot of English words which are derived from Arabic like that are cool. Like 'zenith', 'talisman', 'monsoon' and 'orange'.

EDIT: Just a heads-up: once the next update is out (which, if all goes according to schedule, should be on Christmas Day) I will be taking some time to go back and rewrite the early chapters to clean up the quality, ensure better stylistic consistency, eliminate plot holes, and generally make them something that doesn't make me cringe when I read it. This will include essentially everything up to Breakfast of champions. Hopefully, this will all be completed by New Year's.

[nick012000]

Even if Lio & co. do nothing, Ryougi is still going to wake up and go Void on his ass later on (though the fact that she doesn't have any kind of weapon might complicate matters).

She uses her fingernails to trace the lines of a flower right after she woke up from her coma. Besides, she should be able to acquire a kitchen knife from one of the apartments easily enough.

[EnigmaticFellow]

I can't believe I never bothered to read this story before. Suffice to say, I find this fic to be rather enjoyable. Who knew that a cross-dressing psycho being consumed by his former selves would make for an endearing character? All the intrigue, misunderstandings, and the inevitable clusterfuck will definitely be a joy to read through.

Speaking of which, I shall entreat all thread-viewers with a video due to Dullahan's latest avatar.

[Dullahan]

And the Lord said; let there be updates.
-------------------------------------------------
Inokashira Park, Tokyo

There aren't many people in the park when Daisuke Akimi shows up. The steadily worsening weather probably has something to do with that; dense grey storm clouds moving in from the west make checking tonight's forecast redundant. The treetops across the lake are swaying in the wind, while the surface of the water itself has patches of turbulence on it, moving around in one direction or another. Akimi's target here is a particular park bench which overlooks the lake, not far from one end of the bridge connecting the north bank to the central island. It sits on an area made of concrete paving-stones, with a small wooden fence – barely waist-height – in front of it, keeping the shoreline shrubs at bay. There's a woman sitting there already; early-thirties by the look of it, wearing a long scarf over a thick black jacket and blue jeans, with shoulder-length dark hair falling out of a dark blue woolen beanie she's wearing on her head. She's got a paper cup in one hand – coffee of some description, probably, but Akimi doesn't recognise the brand logo printed on the side. She looks over at him when he takes the seat next to her. There's a metal hand-rest between them, and she puts her coffee down on it before speaking.

“Afternoon, Boss. How's Homicide treatin' ya?”

Still got the accent, huh?

Understandable. She's from Nara Prefecture, originally. Amami Chouwa used to be one of his subordinates – a criminal profiler on his investigation team, specialising in serial homicides. She quit the force about eighteen months ago to take a job with a security consulting firm in Musashino, hence her choice of meeting place, in the nearby Inokashira Park. In response to her question, Akimi shrugs.

“Same shit, different day. No drastic changes since you were there.”

“Ah, 't's a shame. Any interestin' murders lately?”

“I see you're as tasteless as ever.” At this, Chouwa just grins. She's always had something of a morbid sense of humour, today's choice of meeting place notwithstanding. Way back in 1994, there was a famous – well, by local standards – dismemberment murder case in Inokashira Park, which has remained unsolved ever since. The statute of limitations passes next year, and it doesn't look like the killer's ever going to be caught. Taking into account this, and that Chouwa's a lot smarter than she lets on, and...

...nah, must be a coincidence. Probably just convenient to get to.

“Speakin' of which,” she says, pausing to take a sip of her coffee before continuing, “if I'm recallin' correctly, aren't ya supposed t' be still on the clock right about now?”

“Funnily enough, no. That's actually related to what I called you out here to talk about.” Over the next ten minutes or so – with brief interjections from Chouwa as she asks questions, and one long interruption when she has to get up and throw her empty coffee cup into a nearby bin – Akimi explains why he's here.

It started not half an hour after he got off the phone with Mikiya. His team – he's in the habit of calling it a team, even though it's only him and two junior detectives – were in the process of reopening the dismemberment murder case from three years ago in light of the new DNA evidence. Files were being dusted off, evidence dug out of storage, all the usual stuff – when they were suddenly interrupted. A group of suits – now, while Akimi himself wears a suit as part of his job, there's a clear difference between him and people like this; they were hardcore G-men, the guys who get called 'suits' because it's ambiguous whether or not they're physically fused to them – from none other than the Public Security Intelligence Agency showed up bearing extremely official-looking documentation which said that the investigation was being handed over to their department. These were the very same PSIA whose sample of Lio Shirazumi's DNA had unexpectedly turned up a match when run through the database, and hence opened this whole can of worms to begin with.

“They were very polite about it.” says Akimi. “Very polite. They told me – and the team – to take the rest of the day off, 'in light of our previous hard work with regard to this case', which is why I'm able to be here.”

“Well, t' be fair, that's a pretty reasonable thing t' do. Guy's a terrorist, and they're PSIA. They want t' bring the whole investigation under one roof, cut out the middlemen, y'know?”

“I get that. But...I don't know. Something just seems off about this whole thing. That's why I wanted to get your opinion on something.”

“Why me?”

“You were the original profiler on the case.”

“Ya got better profilers than me, I know that for a fact. Aoki in Room 602, for instance.”

“True. But I'm less likely to get found out if you're the one I'm asking.”

“Ah. Confidentiality agreement? Say no more.” Again, with the unsettling grin. “What can I do for ya, then?”

“Do you remember the original profile you came up with, for the perpetrator of the '05-'06 dismemberment killings?”

“'s a long time ago, Boss. I'll need ya to refresh my memory. How'd the killin's go, again?”

“Six victims.” The list of culprits, and the ways in which they died, is something that Akimi will never forget. It's burned into his brain; the only product of many nights' fruitless and frustrating theorising. “The first had its hands and feet severed, and was left to bleed out. Second was sliced in half, vertically, with one half pinned to the wall. Third had its limbs cut off, arms sewn to the legs.” He's begun to count them on his fingers. “Fourth was cut into pieces, with a yin-yang symbol left on the body. Fifth had all its limbs severed and arranged to look like a manji symbol. Sixth was...mangled beyond recognition.” He looks up, over at Chouwa. She seems to be staring off into the distance.

“Yeah, I remember.” She clicks her tongue. “Well, your base assumption from that, there, is that your killer's a male. Big guy, twenties through t' forties, that age range. That second murder's the clincher. That was a single cut, wasn't it? Straight up through the spine, sternum, skull, et cetera. Now that takes some serious strength. Lot of paraphernalia in the way of your knife, no matter how sharp it is, y'know? Hell, I'd wager you'd find hardened GSDF commandos who couldn't do that in one cut.”

And, of course, forensics confirmed that all the killings were made with the same weapon.

“That's what I was thinking about. We know that has to be the case, but, you look at Shirazumi on the news, and-”

“It's obvious, right? Kid that size, no way in hell can he make that cut. Not gonna happen.” She clicks her tongue again. “He is a cutie, though. Nanami in the office wants t' take him out t' dinner.”

“Back on topic, if you please.”

“Right.” She glances up at the sky, as if trying to calculate when it might start to rain. “So, up till the sixth murder, I had a pretty good idea what we were dealing with. That last one's an outlier, I'll get back to ya on it in a minute. First up, as I recall none of the victims – male or female – were dismembered with any kind of sexual emphasis. No genital mutilation, shit like that. The guy who was cut in half vertically, ya could make a case for, but I doubt it. Felt more...clinical, to me. Experimental? Like he wanted to see if he could do it, y'know?”

You've got a good memory.

“So what does that imply?”

“No sexual motivation. He cuts people up, but he doesn't get off on it. Would say...not abused as a child. So why does he do it? My best guess then – and now – is that it's religious. Or pseudo-religious, whatever. Leavin' aside the obvious symbolism on the fourth and fifth cases, this whole thing's got an air of ritual about it, y'know? Like a sacrifice. Like...well, here's a narrative for ya. He's got a goal. He starts small, then moves up when that doesn't work. Assumes that it wasn't enough that time, so he'll have t' make a bigger sacrifice next time. Every time he's like 'no, no, no, please, this time, it'll work'. And it doesn't. He gets frustrated. Your sixth killin' rolls around, and he just goes t' town on the body, tearin' the shit out of it.” She shrugs. “That's just my theory, though. Profilin' is by no means an exact science, you know that. Key point here is that the first five were done by a guy tryin' to achieve a goal. The last one was different. Number Six was killed by a guy who was angry. Maybe with him, maybe not. But the difference there is important.”

Now for the sixty-four thousand dollar question.

“Do you think it's likely that the criminal responsible for those murders could be the one behind today's terrorist attacks?” To this, Chouwa gives a low whistle in response.

“Well, murder's murder, and terrorism's terrorism. Similar, but different. Like snowboardin' and ski jumpin'. Same territory, but the objectives and judgin' standards are different. Is it possible? Sure. Don't know enough to rule it out, about our guy's unique philosophy. As far as bein' a terrorist goes, today's gone pretty well. Regardless of whether this 'bioweapon' story is legit or not, you got a lot of people scared shitless out there. Reminds 'em too much of '95, or something. Thing is, that bein' the case, why haven't we seen any demands? No manifestos, not even a claim of responsibility. Nothing. And, furthermore, there's publicity to consider. Those murders weren't intended to generate publicity. Only the last one took place anywhere you might consider 'public'; the rest are all back alleys and such. But now – well, 's hard to get more public than terrorism, right?”

“I see where you're getting at. The trouble is, we don't have any evidence linking the two incidents – the murders and the bombings – aside from the PSIA's DNA sample. And, in that case, all we have is their word for it that that actually belongs to Lio Shirazumi. That's it, really. I can't look at the attack sites, because they've been quarantined for safety reasons. I can't talk to his school, or his parents, because that'll leave a record and I'm not officially supposed to be on the case. I can't look at my own damn files, because the PSIA has them.” Akimi leans back on the park bench, looking directly up at the sky. “This whole thing stinks to high heaven if you ask me.”

“Ya know, Boss, I'm actually kind of surprised. I'd have thought ya'd be glad someone would finally come and take that case off your hands. God knows ya used to moan about it enough back when I was in Homicide.” She glances at him. “Or are ya gettin' all weird and possessive over your cases? Man, when that happens, ya know you've been a cop for too long.”

“It's not that.” replies Akimi.

Actually, it might be that.

“Ah, ya want to pull the thread, don't ya? Pull the thread, and watch the whole thing unravel. Not every day it looks like there's a bona fide government conspiracy on your hands, y'know? Trouble is, Boss; conspiracies in real life don't work how they do in the movies. Less Spy versus Spy and more Faceless Bureaucracy versus Faceless Bureaucracy, both sides so grey ya can't tell the difference. Want my advice? Don't bother. The country will survive ya not knowin' the whole truth, Boss. That I can assure ya.”

“I know that.”

But...can I just leave things like this?

* * * *

Yokota Air Base

The grainy video clip comes to an end, and Anthony Wei turns on the lights. He's in a relatively small briefing room, with a large, white screen at one end and a data projector suspended from the ceiling. To one side of the screen there's a desk, where he's got a laptop plugged in to the appropriate video cables. There are ten guys – Blackwatch troops, outfitted for combat – sitting on metal-and-plastic chairs, watching and listening to him. This is Team Nero, out of the Wisemen; one of the fireteams that didn't get wiped out at the Tama River. Their CO, Captain Curtis Blum, is sitting at the front, the balaclava pulled over his head revealing nothing more than a few square inches of skin around a pair of icy blue eyes. They don't have their main weapons with them – they'll have to change their loadout for this next operation, anyway – but even with only their sidearms to hand, they radiate a powerful field of not-to-be-fucked-with-ness; not technically a word, but for them he'll make an exception. It's a different reaction entirely to what Wei's used to, dealing with SAD operators down in Hong Kong and along the Chinese eastern seaboard. They're two different kinds of professional, intended for two very different purposes.

“Mr. Wei,” asks Blum, completely deadpan, “what the fuck was that?”

“I wish I could tell you. Seems like there's a lot going on in the background which we aren't aware of. Finding out what that is, is the purpose of this operation.”

“That isn't what I meant.” Someone coughs, near the back of the room. “I'm talking about how CYCLONE up there-” he points at the screen, now displaying a blown-up photograph of Fujino Asagami, provisionally code-named CYCLONE,

“-seems to be telekinetic.”

“It looks like that, yes.” says Wei. “I believe what we're dealing with here is one or more organisations within Japan making a concerted effort to replicate so-called 'supernatural' abilities. What Asagami does in that video has to have a technological basis; it's just not immediately obvious.”

“Hah!” Blum laughs, a short, sharp bark; pretty much exactly how you'd expect a guy like that to laugh. “Mr. Wei – with all due respect – the shit I have seen this morning alone would give me reason to think our definitions of what's possible need to be adjusted.” In response to this, Wei sighs, slightly exasperated.

“Look – this isn't a comic book, and they're not the X-Men. Thinking about the situation that way is unproductive. Whatever abilities they have, they can be interdicted. RAZOR got the jump on us the first time, but we brought things back under control. CARDINAL pulled out a skill set we weren't expecting, and we paid for it. Now we know how to spot him, that won't happen again. We are not going to take any chances with CYCLONE.”

Seriously, these fucking call-signs. Who comes up with them?

“So you're saying it's 'sufficiently advanced technology', is that right?”

My God, he's read Arthur C. Clarke. Where do they find these people?

“Something along those lines would be a likely explanation. After all, the DX-series viruses – BLACKLIGHT and REDLIGHT – are the products of science; it's simply advanced science, to the point where it might appear supernatural to the uninformed observer. In this situation, it seems as if the shoe is on the other foot. That is why you cannot allow CYCLONE to get the jump on you, here. You're going to fight her on your terms.”

“Well, supernatural or no, that sounds good to me.” Blum turns around in his chair, looking over the men in his fireteam. “Final check-in, gentlemen; anyone opting out on this?”

“No fuckin' way, sir.”

“Glad to hear it.” He turns back to face Wei. “Looks like we're all in, Mr. Wei. What's your plan?”

Wei hits a few keys on his laptop, and fairly soon the picture of CYCLONE is replaced by an aerial – no, a satellite photograph of a group of buildings, some close together, some fairly spread out, all surrounded by dense forest.

“This is Reien Girls' Academy, about ninety minutes west of Tokyo by car.” He takes a laser pointer out of his pocket. “CYCLONE is registered as a boarding student there, which means that when not in classes, she'll usually be found in this building.” He highlights it with the laser pointer. “The dormitory. As it happens, today – the twenty-ninth of October – is an anniversary of some kind, and there are no classes scheduled. This also means that while it's possible – albeit unlikely – for CYCLONE to have left the school premises, she will have to return to the dormitories by their curfew time, which is six p.m. Fortunately for us, that doesn't seem to be the case. Intel has confirmed that CYCLONE is still on the school premises.”

“So, she hasn't been spooked and gone to ground.” observes Blum.

“Essentially. My theory is, she's a sleeper. Stays undercover at that school and doesn't act on her own without instructions.”

“In that case, how do we bring her in?”

“Therein we find the problem. Reien is a political nightmare for us. It's an elite private school, ranked among the top five in the country. Some of the girls there are daughters or granddaughters of industry leaders, party chairmen, civil servants, members of the Diet, celebrities, you name it. It depends on exactly how potent her ability is – and how willing she is to use it in the presence of civilians – but it is not an ideal setting for a protracted battle. Not when collateral damage is likely to kill a relative of someone politically important. Even evidence of a conflict is going to be problematic. A raid by armed gunmen on a private school out in the sticks doesn't fit with the bioterrorism narrative we've established for FENRIS. If we try to frame it as an unrelated kidnapping, there'll be a police investigation into it which we won't have an justification for influencing.”

“Could we bomb the school?” asks one of the soldiers. “Tie it into the existing terrorism narrative, use that as a pretext to quarantine the area, and grab CYCLONE in the process?”

...yeah, he's Blackwatch, all right.

“It's an option, but we have the response time to consider.” replies Wei, not missing a beat. “There's a practical limit to how quickly we can show up after the attack without raising suspicion. Call it twenty minutes, at minimum. That's easily enough time for CYCLONE to give us the slip.” Turning on the laser pointer again, Wei highlights a forested area, circling around it with a red point of light. “In any case, here's what you're going to do. Firstly, you'll insert via civilian vehicles from here.” He indicates a small, barely-visible road, branching off the highway which runs past the academy. “This is a service road used by employees of the Ministry of Agriculture, Forestry and Fisheries. The forest near the highway is owned by the government, but further in it becomes private land belonging to the school. There's a fence, but it won't pose a serious obstacle.” He moves the laser pointer upwards a little. “Around here, schematics say there's a footpath which runs through the forest. The school dormitory buildings are, as you can see, around four hundred metres away, and there's dense forest in-between. Same with the highway. That means you're good to go weapons free, if necessary. This is where you're going to ambush CYCLONE, sometime between three and four-thirty p.m. Since the time now is...one twenty-two, we'll be Oscar Mike fairly soon.”

“That's all very well and good,” says Blum, “but how are you planning on drawing her all the way out there? Especially considering that it'll probably be raining by then.”

“As it happens, we've actually had a stroke of luck, hard as it may be to believe. When Blackwatch secured the restaurant Ahnenerbe, one of the customers at the time happened to be a student of Reien Girls' Academy. Not only is she a student there, she's also an acquaintance of CYCLONE. We can use her to draw out the target.”

Azaka Kokutou. Well, I suppose the dice have to roll in our favour every once in a while, don't they?

“Will she cooperate with us?”

“Without a doubt. I can ensure it.”

* * * *

Tokyo Tower, Minato Ward

The observation deck – from where he stands, at least – forms an arc of glass around him, upwards-sloping windows connected at the edges to fill out an approximation of a circle. There's a handrail connected to them, flawless chrome steel, and the floor is made of polished dark-turquoise tiles. The view, however, isn't all that impressive today, unless you're a fan of storm clouds. There aren't many people around. A few tourists, perhaps, and a handful of bored-looking Japanese with time to kill and nothing better to do.

None of them is paying the figure at the window any attention.

He's a man – Japanese, to the untrained eye – who could be anywhere from twenty to forty years old. He wears a long, black coat over a black waistcoat, white shirt, and black trousers. Formal shoes, also black. No tie. He's clean-shave, and his head is completely bald, while the rest of his facial features are somehow...softened, indistinct; carrying limited emotion. Bland beyond belief, in other words, though it is blandness – averageness – taken to such an extent as to itself become something out of the ordinary.

In this respect, it could be said that it's more unusual that people aren't paying attention to this person. Yet, despite his unique appearance, no-one gives him a glance. Even those casting their eyes across the room at random find their gazes, somehow, shifting to avoid him.

The figure looks out the window, his hands on the handrail. He holds a mobile phone in his hands – modern, expensive. High-tech. Touch-screen. He types something on the screen – dialling a number, it seems. After a few seconds, he finishes. He moves his finger, tries to make the call-

-and stops.

His finger wavers, just above the touch-screen, just over the 'call' button. He glances up from his phone, at the city which extends out to the horizon, filling the view from the window. He pauses for a short while, long enough for the phone's screen to dim automatically, in order to save power. He lowers the phone, slightly.

He opens his mouth to speak, and-

* * * *

Unknown Location

“You're certain this is necessary?”

“It is imperative that we begin preparations for what will happen after Araya is defeated immediately.”

“I still don't see how you can be that confident. He's a blank to us.”

“Kurogiri is being quite informative. Furthermore, there are several other sources we can use, and are using. You know them.”

“I do. But I'm still not entirely convinced. We seem to have put a lot of trust in a man we don't – and can't – fully understand.”

“Why do you say that?”

“There's no-one alive today who remembers how he became who he is. We know what others know of him, yes – but nothing from the man himself. Like I said, he's a blank. He continuously exceeds the Tier One Ahamkara threshold, even when he's not using his Circuits. The Crown does not work on him, PARIAH. Even Tier Zero he is probably immune to. Yet you don't seem to be all that concerned. Why?”

“We have seen the end of his path. You know our methods.”

“I do. But that implies probability, not certainty.”

“Perhaps. But what is certain is that Shirazumi will be the one to defeat him. This is predetermined.”

“If your theory is correct.”

“If it is not correct, then there will have been no cause for concern in the first place. If it is correct, then the outcome has been decided. Whatever skills Araya may possess, he holds nothing that can stand against that creature. You know this.”

“I think you underestimate him.”

“And whose opinion is that?”

“You know whose.”

“We do. However, you must never forget that there are always contingency plans. Though you could be forgiven for thinking that all of this was planned out to the fourth decimal place years ago, the events of today have proven themselves to be better dealt with through improvisation. We make no claim that our resolution to this problem will be perfect; only that it will be as close as possible.”

“In the end, though, I suppose I don't really have a choice in the matter, do I?”

“There is no choice for a King. No choice but the right choice.”

“...those are-”

“These are the words of our Father.”

* * * *

The bald man sighs, and lifts his mobile phone back up again. The people around him – even less now than there were before – still pay no attention to him. It is very much as if they don't even notice he's there.
Moving his finger over the screen of his phone, the number he dialled some time ago still displayed-

-he presses the 'call' button.

* * * *

Chiyoda Ward, Tokyo

They're on their way back to the office – the Cabinet Secretariat building in Nagata-chou, to be precise – when Taizou gets a phone call. Keeping his eyes focused on the bustling inner-city traffic occupies most of Takeyama's attention, so all he can hear of the conversation is Taizou's half.

Click.

“Yes?”

Of course, his senior partner is exactly the kind of person who would answer the phone with 'Yes', regardless of who happened to be calling. That by itself doesn't indicate anything. After this, there's a short pause.

“A stone's throw from the office. Why?”

Another pause, slightly longer than the last.

“Is that right?”

Another.

“You're an idiot.”

And another.

“There's nothing to be done now, but I still think you're a bloody idiot.”

Yeah, it's definitely someone from the CIIO. No question about it.

“Whatever. What did they turn up?”

Another pause – much longer than the last two, this time. When Taizou speaks again, his tone indicates that the contents of the exchange have piqued his interest.

“The plot thickens.”

A very brief pause.

“Yes, that means we'll look into it.”

With this, he hangs up. The car's stopped at the lights, on a four-way intersection not far from the Cabinet Secretariat building. Both hands on the wheel, Takeyama turns to Taizou, who's putting his phone back in his pocket.

“Am I to take it,” he begins, “that we're not going back to the office?”

“No, Takeyama, we are not.” Taizou grins, putting a row or two of nicotine-stained teeth on display which causes him to resemble nothing so much as a bald, chain-smoking hyena, or perhaps one of those chimps at the zoo where smiling is a facial cue for “I'm gonna punch your lights out.”

“Alright. Where to, then?”

“Tell you what,” says Taizou, entering an address into the GPS navigator mounted above the dashboard, “it'll be a surprise. At the very least, until I finish telling you the news.” The GPS beeps, and the 'destination' marker updates. The field indicating 'Distance to Destination' blinks once, changing from three hundred metres to-

-one hundred and twelve kilometres!? Where the hell are we going?

“Don't give me that look. The lights are green, incidentally.” Takeyama's head snaps forward to notice, God damn it, he's right.

“Shit.” Following the path laid out for him on the GPS, he proceeds straight ahead, instead of turning right to return to the office as he would have done otherwise. “OK,” says Takeyama after a while, having regained some semblance of control over the situation. “So what's going on?”

“That call just now was from Muraizumi back at the office. What he's done is, he's called in a favour from an old colleague at Ichigaya.”

Ichigaya – as in Ichigaya, Shinjuku Ward. Ministry of Defense.

Oh, great.

It doesn't take a genius to see where this is going.

“Muraizumi...he was DIH, wasn't he?”

Defense Intelligence Headquarters. Japan's official SIGINT – signals intelligence – agency, modelled (with very little subtlety) after the similarly-named DIA in the United States. That said, SIGINT isn't all they get up to – and with a classified budget and manpower equal to that of the PSIA, they could easily be called the civilian agency's mirror image on the military side of the equation.

“He was, and his colleague still is. Muraizumi got his friend to snag all outgoing and incoming radio traffic for Yokota Air Base in a thirty-minute window. As you'd expect, most of it's irrelevant, and what isn't irrelevant is encrypted. Some of their codes we can break and some we can't, but the point is – to everyone's great surprise, I'm sure – that he actually managed to turn up something.”

“And what was that?”

“You know what 'extraordinary rendition' is?”

“You're kidding.”

“Apparently not. Muraizumi's pal at the DIH managed to snag a CIA cable from Yokota to Langley, requesting a cost-benefit analysis on how practical it would be to cover up the, quote, disappearance, unquote, of a single student from a certain private school here in Japan. It also requested a black flight – that's one which doesn't show up on official manifests – to be chartered from a private airstrip in Saitama Prefecture to Guam tonight, from which I assume the person in question will be transferred onto another flight, bound for god-knows-where. Probably Egypt, Morocco, somewhere like that.”

“That's extrajudicial abduction of a Japanese citizen. That is completely-”

“-out of their remit. Yes. The agreement they signed with us this morning manifestly does not allow them to do that. This, Takeyama, is what we've been waiting for. This is where their terrorism narrative falls apart. Unless they can provide some spectacularly good proof that this person is directly involved in the bombings in such a way that they are unfit to be handled by Japanese authorities, they are fucked.”

“Can't Muraizumi take this to the Chief Cabinet Secretary and have him rescind the agreement?”

“Unfortunately, no. Since the intercept was, strictly speaking, made illegally, it can't be used in formal proceedings. That is where we come in. We're heading out west, Takeyama. There's a private school we need to visit. You ever heard of Reien Girls' Academy?”

“Can't say I have.”

“Well, I have. My granddaughter goes there. According to her mother, it costs an arm and a leg, but it's worth it, apparently. Note that as unreliable intel.”

Now, at this, Takeyama has to ask the obvious question. It strains credulity far more than anything else Taizou's said today.

“You have a granddaughter, old man?”

Hard to imagine him getting married, let alone having kids.

“You wound me. I'll have you know that before I was the cantankerous old fart that I am now, I was a cantankerous young fart back in the late 1970s, with hobbies including getting horrendously drunk in Jakarta and using pickup lines related to being a secret agent with a perfectly straight face. One day, one of them actually worked. The rest is something of a blur, but I seem to recall waking up in Okinawa three months later with a wedding ring on my finger, and no clear idea of how it – or I – got there...”

“Is that...wait a minute. You weren't a secret agent in the 1970s...you were GDSF, all the way through to '85...” A brief glance to the side reveals that Taizou's – of course – grinning.

“Yes. And?”

“...what the hell were you doing in Jakarta?”

“Playing the Great Game, Takeyama; like the eponymous Kim in the book of the same name. If I told you any more, I'd have to kill you.”

“Right.”

“No, I'm serious. That is a chapter in our nation's history which won't be declassified until long after you and I are dead. True story.”

He's just making all of this up. Has to be.

“Well, whatever. Back on topic – what's the mission here, exactly?”

“The CIA's target is a first-year student by the name of Fujino Asagami. She's the heiress to Asagami Construction, which is probably why whoever's running ops at Yokota felt the need to get a second opinion from Stateside before 'disappearing' her. Why they're after her, we've got no idea. It sure as hell isn't to do with these so-called terrorist attacks. It's this kind of activity which is going to let us see their hand, what their real goal is here. If there was ever any doubt that the terrorism story was anything but a smokescreen, this is what's dispelled it. What they're doing is clearly more complex than simply hunting down Shirazumi – if who they're hunting even is Lio Shirazumi to begin with.”

“So what are we going to do? Secure Asagami before they can get to her?”

“No.”

“No?”

“It's a violation of our sovereignty, yeah, but we'll probably need to let their operation at Reien proceed according to their plan. If we can catch them in the act there – get, for instance, photographic evidence of them abducting Asagami – then we can move on to the next stage.”

“Which is?”

“We take it up the chain to the Chief Cabinet Secretary, who will then make a phone call to the Minister of Defense. This will result, hopefully, in the GSDF Special Forces Group – who have been deployed today for counter-terrorist purposes, albeit only in token roles like guarding the attack sites after they've been quarantined – being ordered to ground the CIA's black flight on the runway in Saitama, and have Asagami handed back over to us. At gunpoint, if necessary. Then, of course, comes the long period of recrimination in which we ask the Americans precisely what the fuck they think they're doing over here. The end.”

“Something tells me it won't be that simple.”

“It never is. In this case, we may have a slight problem, which is, as you remember, why I called Muraizumi an idiot on the phone earlier.”

“Really? I thought you were just making conversation.”

“Hah! You'll go far in this business, boy – more accurately, you'll go exactly as far as me, if you don't learn to hold your tongue around your superiors. I never got the hang of it, but you probably should if you've ever any ambitions of career advancement. No, Muraizumi is that very particular combination of brilliance and idiocy which has come to characterise this country's civil servants – the ones that aren't corrupt, beneficiaries of nepotism, extremely lucky idiots, right-wing lunatics, left-wing lunatics, or, God forbid, centrist lunatics – and, to be honest, I'm undecided between buying him a drink after all this is over and punching him in the face. Possibly both, we'll see how things work out. True, without intel from his friend at DIH, we'd still be in the dark...well, semi-darkness. Gloom. Dimness. Whatever. About the CIA's activities. We have his initiative to thank for that, this is true. However, there is a reason that kind of behaviour is frowned upon in this organisation. It's a bad move, politically. Remember, the current ruling party is the same one that sent troops to Iraq in support of the US and to hell with Article 9, no doubt causing every constitutional lawyer in the country to spit out whatever they were drinking at the time. Our activities will need to be reported to the Prime Minister eventually – and, as an elected official, there's only so much the Chief Cabinet Secretary can cover us for. The PM will not be happy to hear that we've essentially been illegally wiretapping an ostensibly-legitimate goodwill effort extended to us by the American military.”

“He won't be happy to hear that the CIA's been kidnapping Japanese citizens, either.”

“No, he will not. But without proof – legitimate proof – we can't even make that claim convincingly. The wording in the cable is vague enough that you could easily interpret as them talking about the effect of having Asagami brought in for questioning, which is something they are allowed to do. As for the black flight, CIA schedules them all the time, for all sorts of reasons. It could easily be completely unrelated. That's how they'll play it, if pressed.”

“So we need to find evidence.”

“Indeed we do. If we don't – if we have nothing to show for all we've done – the CIIO is going to be in hot water with the PM. We will probably be in for the chop – or worse, a demotion. This is why Muraizumi's an idiot, Takeyama. He's forced the hand of his own side. Now, we must acquire evidence of the CIA's illegal activities here in order to justify our actions, or this investigation will be over, and the Americans will get away with it – whatever 'it' is.”

“So, failure's not an option, I take it?”

“Failure is always an option, Takeyama. It's just the worst option.”

* * * *

Cabinet Secretariat Building

In a windowless, EM-shielded office somewhere deep in the heart of the Cabinet building, Akira Muraizumi glances – annoyed – at the phone on his desk.

Why the hell do we still employ that guy?

Worst of all, he's – of course – actually right. Muraizumi's aware of that. If need be, he'll take the fall for it – for the actions he's taken. But, he thinks. But-

-we can't allow the CIA's operation to proceed.

After a short period of deliberation, Muraizumi picks up the phone again. He dials a number. Internal extension. Someone upstairs.

“Office of the Chief Cabinet Secretary. How may I help you?”

“Is he in?”

“He's in the middle of a phone call at the moment. I expect he'll be finished in about ten minutes. Would you like to hold?”

“...No. I'll call you back.”

* * * *

Garan no Dou

“...and now, I'm here.”

With this – and very little fanfare – the golden-haired boy finishes his story. The true story, this time – for what values of 'true' are accessible to someone with only as much information has he does. It was, as Aozaki predicted, an interesting story. Not a pleasant one. But interesting.

Awakening of the Origin...assimilation of foreign memories...there have got to be so many forces at work inside that kid's head it's a wonder he can even speak, let alone act – relatively – normal.

It's entirely possible – far more likely than not, even – that what he is is something completely unique in all of history. The overlapping circles of those awakened to their past lives and the hosts of BLACKLIGHT draw the Venn diagram very tightly indeed.

Less 'satsujinki' than 'bosatsujinki', it would seem...

The room they're in – Aozaki's workshop – is composed of extremes of light and darkness. The room is centred on a large, bare workbench, topped with polished stainless steel and illuminated from above by a suspended lighting fixture composed of long fluorescent tubes arranged in a rectangular pattern. Around the work bench – with a large section of empty floor space between them and the workbench – two of of the room's walls are composed almost entirely of shelves, four layers high at least, every last one of them filled with...well, anything, really. Old books, sealed cardboard boxes with long-faded labels, cylindrical mailing tubes like the ones used to send rolled-up posters, ring binders, clipboards, notebooks – anything and everything that a Magus could find useful. The shelving curves around at the corner where the two walls meet, giving that part of the room a strange, 'rounded-off' feeling. One of the other walls of the room contains a metal staircase leading upstairs (there's a trapdoor under her desk which she had installed for a reason which now escapes her) above a metal wall covered in bare pipes and other fixtures, while the other wall contains the door leading out to the stairwell and a few smaller cabinets and display shelves. The ceiling-mounted fluorescents – which there are, for when it's necessary to return the room to some semblance of proper illumination standards – haven't been turned on, leaving the only lighting not originating from the suspended fixture above the workbench to come from a series of dim incandescent bulbs. They cast the edges of the room in a faint orange glow, compared to the white light illuminating the workbench.

And then, of course, there are the dolls.

Not all of them are complete – in fact, several of them are in the process of being broken down for spare parts – but there they are, nonetheless. Some are suspended from the ceiling what could pass for puppet-strings, while others sit on the floor, propped up against the shelves or the other walls of the room. Some are little more than piles of disassembled body parts, while some, given hair, clothes, and eyes, look almost human. There are cabinets containing particularly fine examples of parts, while in the workbench you could find individual drawers full of eyes, ears, hands, feet, and so on.

And then, there's him.

Shirazumi is standing off to one side of the room, leaning against one of the shelves in a darkened area between two lightbulbs. With her eyes adjusted to the bright light of the workbench, his form can only be made out with some difficulty. Human-shaped; a figure you might have to spend a few extra seconds looking at to work out its gender. A golden-eyed shadow in the gloom. Yet another denizen of the Uncanny Valley; between him and the dolls, they've got her outnumbered.

“I have some questions for you, before we continue.” says Aozaki, in a neutral tone. She's sitting in a chair near the workbench. “Quite a lot of questions, actually, so we'll take them in rough chronological order.”

“All right.” replies the shadow. Aozaki's not quite sure what emotion that tone of voice was trying to convey.

“All this began when you met Shiki.”

“Yes.”

“Were you in love with her?”

The shadow sighs. It slumps down, falling to a sitting position up against the shelf, as if imitating one of the nearby puppets. After a long pause, it replies.

“It's funny. I thought about it – quite a lot, actually. Over and over again. About what I was thinking at the time. And, you know – I came to the conclusion – that even though I was obsessed with her, I never actually liked her. Not even slightly.” He laughs, once. “Which is weird, 'cause you'd expect that to be something of a prerequisite to stalking her, right? But – no. I look back, and...I really don't understand what that was. It's probably for the best that she rejected me, because I honestly have no idea what I would have done if she hadn't.” Another brief pause. “That said, I think it's probable the cause didn't originate with me. I expect you've already connected the dots.”

“Assume I haven't.”

“Lions are stalking predators. Perform the arithmetic.”

Now that...is an interesting theory.

The Origin of a human – the metaphysical 'base concept', tied to the root of the soul and preserved across reincarnations – is a quality which is, even in the modern era, poorly-understood. If it were necessary to point out the person Aozaki considers to be the most knowledgeable on the topic, it would have to be Araya.

Truth be told, I'm surprised. In London, he discussed the possibility of awakening a person to their Origin as a hypothetical – a thought experiment. Now we find that he actually went and figured out how to do it. No wonder he's been hiding out in Japan since then; if London caught wind of this, they'd have him marked for Sealing in a flash.

At present, the position of the majority – in thaumaturgical circles – is that cases like Shirazumi's aren't possible. The anthropogenic Counter Force – which serves to distinguish humans from all other living creatures – acts on the mechanism of reincarnation, and ensures that only humans can reincarnate as humans. None of this six-realms bullshit, thank you very much. While this is the theory, the facts are that no-one fully understands how the system works, and without punching a hole through to Akasha and asking it for answers, no-one ever will. An individual person's Origin is something that has twenty different interpretations for every ten Magi you ask, but what is the general consensus is that, unless you become aware of it, all it can do is manifest below a conscious level. But...under the right circumstances...

Unbelievable; teenagers today. So there's the girl who mistook love for a murderous impulse, and the boy who did the exact same thing in reverse. Careful, Alice, for through the looking glass lies not Wonderland but the next Takashi Miike film.

“You wanted to kill her?”

“Much less romantic, I know. But it does explain a lot. Especially the reaction in the cafe, if you take it as a consequence of that rather than of BLACKLIGHT.”

But here's the thing. Taking him at his word that all his past lives were lions, that doesn't explain why he would react like that to Shiki in particular. Lions are carnivores, but they're neither maneaters nor Shiki-eaters by nature. It's easy to see how he made the mistake of assuming an Origin of 'Consumption', but it's not like lions have a monopoly on eating. They are, logically speaking, just animals like any other. So...just what the hell are you, Shirazumi?

“In any case, I'm not seeing how that's relevant.” he continues, from over by the shelf.

Leaving that aside for the moment, there's something else that needs to be addressed.

“Oh, it is relevant.” she opens one of the drawers in the workbench, rummages through it, closes it in annoyance, then opens the one next to it. From there she takes out an A4 yellow legal pad, and a blue ball-point pen. Putting the pad down on the workbench, she takes the pen and begins to sketch a diagram.

“Why?”

“Because this is just too perfect.” After about thirty seconds, the drawing is done. Aozaki takes off her glasses, placing them down on the desktop next to the notepad. Taking the hint, Shirazumi gets up, walks over to the table. He looks down at the diagram.

“What's...”

It resembles a yin-yang symbol. To be precise, it is a yin-yang symbol. A circle, bisected by a curved line, dividing it into two interlocking teardrops. One of them has been shaded – roughly crosshatched in pen – to distinguish between it and the blank half. Yin and Yang.

But that's not all.

In place of the smaller circles that should be present on a yin-yang diagram, Aozaki's instead written two characters. In the dark, shaded half, she's written 'Shiki'. In the light, blank half, she's written 'SHIKI'. Then, outside the circle, there are more characters. On the dark side of the diagram, 'Kokutou' is written. Then, on the light side, there's 'Shirazumi'.

“You see it?” she asks. Shirazumi doesn't reply. Not immediately.

“...no way.”

“Your understanding of Shiki's dual personalities at that time was generally correct. Araya did his research. Children of the Ryougi dynasty – not all of them, but some – are born with two personalities. One masculine, known as the yang personality,” she taps the pen on the light half of the diagram, “and one feminine, known as the yin personality.” she taps the pen on the dark half of the diagram. “Now, from what I've heard, Araya's plan seemed to hinge on being able to incite conflict – inconsistency – between the two personalities. In Shiki's case, the yin personality was dominant, with the yang personality holding her inclination towards all things murderous. And what should happen but two people coincidentally appearing to entice both of them.”

Araya, Araya, Araya; this is one of your flaws:

“Here we find Mikiya Kokutou, whose actions draw the yin – black – half in one direction.” She taps her pen on the shaded part of the circle, where 'Shiki' is written, then again on the character koku, 'black' - the first character in 'Kokutou'.

You're a show-off...

“And here we find Lio Shirazumi, whose actions draw the yang – white – half in another direction.” She taps her pen on the blank part of the circle, where 'SHIKI' is written, then again on the character shira, 'white' – the first character in 'Shirazumi'.

...and you can't help leaving your signature behind.

“It's a coincidence...” mumbles Shirazumi, softly. He sits on the workbench, two metres down from where Aozaki is. “It has to be.”

“You've accepted that those murders were your responsibility, and that was the right thing to do. Well done. But now you need to seriously consider how much choice you had in the matter to begin with.” She traces a circle around the entire diagram with the pen. “This kind of aesthetic is exactly the sort of thing Araya would do.”

Given what he's set up at the Ogawa Mansion, I'd say there's no doubt he's got some kind of fixation on symbols like these.

“That's bullshit, and you know it.” says Shirazumi, with sudden vehemence. “That's my surname. He can't control that. It has to be a coincidence.”

“And maybe it was. Maybe karma's got a sense of humour about these things, as you said. It would explain your obscenely appropriate first name.” Aozaki concedes. Shirazumi winces, slightly. “But consider this. Souren Araya has lived for over two hundred years. He's been gunning for Akasha for far longer than you or I have been alive. This is exceedingly unlikely to be the first time he's tried to reach it. And since all those previous attempts clearly failed, he is even more exceedingly unlikely to have left anything to chance.”

“So?!” Shirazumi hisses, sharply. Clearly upset. Aozaki remains calm, continues speaking.

“What are the chances, Shirazumi? The chances of someone with a totally unique Origin and a totally unique bloodline trait living in the same area and attending the same school? The chances of a murderer obsessed with Shiki Ryougi, someone ideal for Araya's plan, suddenly materialising just when he needed one to? The chances of you being put in a situation where you would give your consent to having your Origin awakened, and for Araya to coincidentally find you in that very situation? The chances of a plan with that many variables working flawlessly until being derailed by something unexpected at the very last moment?”

Shirazumi is glaring at her, furiously. Aozaki knows the expression. The irrational rage of one who has had their preconceptions stripped away. Without waiting for him to reply, Aozaki delivers the QED.

“Araya could afford to take these chances. Because they weren't chances at all.”

There's a long silence after this. Shirazumi turns away, doesn't look at her. He gets off the table, stands up. Walks over to the shelves, still looking away. The silence continues.

And then he speaks.

It's little more than a whisper.

“He didn't take my choice from me.”

It's only just visible in the gloom, but Shirazumi's hands – hanging by his sides – are shaking. He laughs, briefly – a hollow, strained, 'shishishi' through gritted teeth.

“It doesn't matter what I think.”

A voice trembling with rage.

“It doesn't matter what I want.”

Another laugh. The same as before.

“He deserves to die. And I will kill him.”

With this, at last, he turns around; bringing once again, into the dim light of the workshop, golden eyes like pieces of amber, traces of the long-distant past sealed inside like trapped insects.

“No matter what.”

-------------------------------------------------

It's all happening, here. Everyone's on the move.

Now we see that Unknown Location is really more of an indefinite location. The Kings don't have to physically be in the same place.

The Three Kings change their appearances to blend in with where they are. Balthazar is in Japan, and hence, looks Japanese.

Taizou is like the Japanese secret-agent version of Hunter S. Thompson. Seriously.

I can't believe I'm the first person to have noticed that thing with the kanji in KnK characters' names. Someone must have spotted it beforehand. It's got to be one of Nasu's in-jokes...either way, it's been realised in-universe, with bizarre implications.

Considered objectively, the sheer amount of coincidences involved in setting up the initial scenario lend a great deal of support to the theory that a lot of it was Araya's doing, one way or another. How much exactly is unclear.

Araya is a very good villain - TM's best, in my opinion - and he deserves a better send-off than being effortlessly curbstomped by Void!Shiki. He'll get one.

Touko's phrase bosatsujinki is a portmanteau of bosatsu (bodhisattva) and satsujinki (homicidal maniac), referencing the fact that recovery of past-life memory is one of the abilities often ascribed to high-attaining Buddhist masters.

[saintsant]

Merry Christmas, Dullahan. And thanks for the update; it's a more worthwhile gift than socks!

[EVA-Saiyajin]

Merry Christmas to one and all. And awesome update Dullahan!

[Flere821]

Merry Christmas Dullahan. And now for my response to the chapter:

Oh Shit. Shiiiiiit. Things are promising to get really, really messy and this isn't even about Kokutou, Shiki or Lio. This is surprising, and in a good way

[EnigmaticFellow]

Nice update Dullahan. I'm wondering how successful blacklight's latest extraction operation will be considering who their target is. Messing around with Fujino usually doesn't end well for most people.

[Chojomeka]

Nice update Dullahan. I'm wondering how successful blacklight's latest extraction operation will be considering who their target is. Messing around with Fujino usually doesn't end well for most people.

Don't forget that they likely think that Azaka's a normal that they can use as bait.....this is going to end in fire.

[EnigmaticFellow]

Don't forget that they likely think that Azaka's a normal that they can use as bait.....this is going to end in fire.

That would depend on how Azaka is approached. Though considering Blackwatch's typical track record...

[Dullahan]

Nice update Dullahan. I'm wondering how successful blacklight's latest extraction operation will be considering who their target is. Messing around with Fujino usually doesn't end well for most people.

Fujino has clairvoyance and telekinesis now, and - with her sense of pain fully restored after the events of Remaining Sense of Pain - she can use her ability without restriction. She may be mostly blind, but that's largely irrelevant because she doesn't need eyes to see anymore. Fujino is unbelievably h4x from an objective standpoint, to the point where it would have been nigh-on impossible for Ryougi to beat her without MEoDP. If someone ever trained her properly, she'd be among the top tier of human characters in the Nasuverse.

In brief - if you can't see Fujino, Fujino can see you. If you can see Fujino, you may be seconds away from death.

[linkhyrule5]

The really terrifying thing is, if the Bridge is any indication, she can use her Eyes through Clairvoyance.

Which means that Blackwatch is doomed, the moment they step within the range of her divination.

[Zephyr]

The really terrifying thing is, if the Bridge is any indication, she can use her Eyes through Clairvoyance.

Which means that Blackwatch is doomed, the moment they step within the range of her divination.

Said divination's range is around 2~4 km(360°) and capable of bypassing visual barriers...
They are screwed.


---


Awesome update
Cool stuff with the ying-yang names... Impossible to be a coincidence...
But I belive it's to much, even for Araya, to pull it off.


I foresee Fujino stomping Blackwatch like a boss, with Azaka's help.


Touko is awesome, just it.

[linkhyrule5]

Well, they do have one advantage. Fujino is going to be terrified of degenerating into another satsujinki again (nevermind of retribution by Ryougi), and that'll make her less willing to kill.

Unfortunately for Blackwatch, her power can incapacitate just as easily, so...

[EnigmaticFellow]

Either way, some limbs are going to be in unnatural positions.

[Emy]

I'm definitely looking forward to the showdown at Reien Girls' Academy. Especially if Kurogiri shows up like he did in Oblivion Recorder. There are no words for how messy this could get.

Actually-

That's a lie. There are words. And they are unmitigated clusterfuck.

The really terrifying thing is, if the Bridge is any indication, she can use her Eyes through Clairvoyance.

Which means that Blackwatch is doomed, the moment they step within the range of her divination.

Yeah. And with the range that her divination has, I expect that the greatest thing that'll keep Blackwatch forces alive is not their preparation, but her whim. She's not inclined to start crushing everyone, and that's good for just about everyone else.

[Dullahan]

I'm definitely looking forward to the showdown at Reien Girls' Academy. Especially if Kurogiri shows up like he did in Oblivion Recorder. There are no words for how messy this could get.

Actually-

That's a lie. There are words. And they are unmitigated clusterfuck.

Fortunately for everyone, Kurogiri won't be showing up. The Three Kings have seen to that.

Yeah. And with the range that her divination has, I expect that the greatest thing that'll keep Blackwatch forces alive is not their preparation, but her whim. She's not inclined to start crushing everyone, and that's good for just about everyone else.

To be honest, it's going to be...interesting coming up with ways for Fujino not to instantly stomp everyone. We don't know much about how Clairvoyance works (IIRC the only character other than Fujino who has it is Archer as a Servant Skill, and his is only Rank C), so whether her ability to see things that are out of her line of sight equates to 'seeing what you would see if you were able to see it directly', 'seeing through solid objects' or 'instantly knowing where everything is inside a 2-4km radius' is unknown. There's that, and her mental state to consider...which we have precious little information on, after RSOP, except for a single manga short by Takeuchi. Not to mention how Anthony Wei is going to use Azaka to get to her.

Incidentally, why doesn't your avatar have a face?

[Garlak]

Uh... Hm.

The more complex a plan is, and the more steps it has, and the more it's planned out in advance... the harder it is to pull off. It isn't something that can normally be hand-waved away with "did enough planning," because it's just going to be a basic rule that you just can't account for all that many things.

Unless you're a fictional manipulator on par with Batman or Xanatos. Is that what's going on here? Is Araya's "preparation/planning" ability on the level of, well, a fictional antagonist rather than a "realistic fiction" level?


Except Araya's manipulations even supposedly have the very hand of fate -- the Counterforce -- working against them... So that makes it even more incredulous, because it's like you're building a huge house of cards near an open window through which a stray breeze might flow through at any time!

It's like building sandcastles with the wave coming in, except there's also a risk of a random kid running over your sandcastles at any time...