Chapter Text
When Rin arrived at Schale yesterday, she had stopped Noa outside the infirmary long enough to give exactly one instruction.
"Do not let him leave."
Noa had nodded.
Then Rin glanced through the small window on the door where Leon was visibly attempting to sit up through what looked like spite alone and added, with complete composure:
"If he tries anything unreasonable, please make sure to chain him."
Noa still wasn't fully convinced that had been a joke.
The following morning, the infirmary had settled into the kind of quiet that only existed after chaos exhausted itself. Sunlight stretched across the tiled floor in pale bands, catching against metal bed rails and neatly stacked supplies while the faint smell of disinfectant lingered in the air.
Leon looked profoundly out of place inside it.
He sat upright in the bed wearing sunglasses indoors, one arm folded across his bandaged ribs while the other rested near his coat hanging from the bedside rail. Every few minutes his eyes drifted toward it instinctively, like some part of his brain still believed he had places to be despite the rest of his body clearly filing formal complaints.
Yesterday's adrenaline had abandoned him completely.
Noa had watched the realization happen in real time sometime around midnight, when Leon attempted to stand up and immediately discovered that accumulated injuries were a real and deeply personal problem.
Since then, every movement had become slower, more deliberate, followed by tiny pauses he probably hoped nobody noticed.
Unfortunately for him, Noa noticed everything.
"I'm fine," Leon declared.
Noa didn't even look up from her tablet. "You said that before nearly falling asleep while sitting upright."
"I was meditating."
"You were snoring."
"That was controlled breathing."
Now she looked at him.
Bruising spread across most of the visible parts of his face beneath the sunglasses, darkening around his jaw and cheekbones. The swelling around one eye had worsened overnight, and every time he shifted against the mattress his shoulders tightened half a second before the pain properly caught up.
Leon caught her staring and gestured vaguely at himself. "See? Functional."
"You needed both hands to open a water bottle earlier."
"It was sealed aggressively."
Noa sighed softly and set the tablet down onto her lap. Under normal circumstances, she preferred gentler approaches with people. Suggestions instead of commands. Careful nudges instead of blunt refusal. It was easier to guide conversations subtly than force them directly.
Leon somehow made that impossible.
Probably because he approached danger with the confidence of a deranged lunatic who refused to be told 'no' by every sane individual he met.
"Sensei," she said calmly, "you are not leaving this infirmary."
"That sounds oppressive."
"You attempted a moonsault during a boxing match."
Leon tilted his head slightly. "Important distinction. I attempted it successfully. The landing was where things became political."
Noa stared at him for a long moment.
"…Rin was serious about the violence, wasn't she?"
"She seems very prepared."
Leon leaned back carefully against the pillow and immediately winced hard enough that even he couldn't pretend otherwise this time. The expression vanished a second later beneath forced composure, but the damage was already done.
Noa raised an eyebrow.
"I hate that you notice things," he muttered.
"You tried to hide a concussion by putting sunglasses on indoors."
"It almost worked."
"No, it didn't."
Outside the window, Schale remained quiet beneath the late morning sun. Inside, the room settled into a calmer rhythm again, interrupted only by the occasional rustle of fabric whenever Leon instinctively reached toward the coat before remembering he was being watched.
The fourth attempt happened less than two minutes later.
Noa spoke without looking up.
"Sensei."
His hand stopped midair.
"Out of curiosity," he asked carefully, "if I made a break for it right now, would you actually stop me?"
Noa considered the question honestly.
Then she remembered Rin's expression yesterday.
"…Yes."
Leon stared at her for a moment before sinking deeper into the bed with the heavy resignation of someone finally realizing escape was no longer a realistic option.
"Damn," he said quietly. "I've been professionally supervised."
Noa filed that reaction away under: Sensei, responses to direct confrontation, with verbal capitulation but probably still plotting.
She wasn't usually this direct. At Seminar, when a Millennium students did something catastrophically stupid—and they did, regularly, with impressive creativity—, or wasting budget on trivial things, Yuuka handled the initial outburst and anger.
Yuuka was built for that.
Noa worked differently. She guided. She suggested. She mentioned things in passing that happened to redirect entire conversations without anyone noticing they'd been steered. Polite redirection was an art form, and she'd spent years perfecting it, because people respond more favorably to those who are polite and calm.
Leon had somehow made that entire skill set completely useless in under twenty-four hours.
Every gentle suggestion got deflected. Every subtle hint bounced off him like he genuinely couldn't tell he was being managed.
It wasn't that he was resistant to reason, he just operated on a completely different wavelength where "I should probably rest" and "I could probably walk this off" occupied the same logical space.
She'd tried being subtle at 2 AM when he suggested he could "just power through" three broken ribs.
She'd tried being indirect at 4 AM when he argued that concussions were "more of a guideline than a diagnosis."
Now it was 10 AM and she was out of subtlety.
"You're taking this very seriously," Leon observed.
"Rin-san gave me one task."
"And you're committed to it."
"I don't like disappointing people."
"Admirable." He paused. "Inconvenient, but admirable."
A faint rustling came from the pot of flowers sitting on the floor beside the bed.
Leon glanced down. "Not now, Lily."
More rustling, insistent this time.
"She wants to know if she can get out," Leon translated, sounding tired.
Noa blinked. Then she shifted her posture slightly, directing her attention downward toward the floor as though addressing someone small and nervous.
"Of course you can," she said gently. "Just don't leave SCHALE, alright?"
The rustling immediately turned enthusiastic.
The pot of lily immediately made its way toward the door with what could only be described as purposeful dragging.
The door opened. The pot dragged herself through.
The door closed.
Leon stared at the door.
Noa stared at the door.
"She has more freedom than I do," Leon said flatly.
"She didn't attempt a moonsault."
"That's fair."
Noa returned her attention to the tablet, making a note: Lily—mobile, autonomous, follows verbal instructions, extremely enthusiastic about exits.
Then she added: Consider whether sentient plants count toward SCHALE staff numbers for administrative purposes.
Probably not, she decided. Plants didn't have opposable thumbs.
Leon shifted against the pillows, then stopped moving entirely when his ribs filed an immediate complaint. He stayed very still for three seconds.
"Alright," he said finally. "New approach."
"You're not leaving."
"Different angle then." He adjusted his sunglasses. "If I can't do my job, can you do something for me?"
Noa looked up slowly.
This was a tactic shift. She recognized it immediately, Leon had stopped pushing against the immovable object and started looking for alternate routes. Which meant he had something specific in mind, and whatever it was probably qualified as "unreasonable" under Rin's threat parameters.
"…What kind of something?" she asked carefully.
Leon produced a folded piece of paper from somewhere inside his shirt.
Noa stared at it.
"What is that?" she asked.
"Ghost intel," Leon said casually. "Got it from a ghost connection using the ghost internet, with my ghost mobile data from my ghost phone."
Noa's brain attempted to parse whether that was a joke.
Her brain failed.
Leon handed her the paper.
She unfolded it.
An address, and a name:
Abe Shione.
"The helmet gang leader," Noa said immediately, because her memory didn't forget things. "The equipment supplier inconsistency. High-grade tactical gear provided to what should have been a low-level delinquent group."
She'd flagged that detail when analyzing the gear for Ayane. Professional-grade weapons and equipment didn't just appear in the hands of teenage thugs.
Someone had been funding them.
Someone with resources and specific intent.
"Exactly that Abe Shione," Leon confirmed. "I need you to go to that address, find out who was supplying them, why, and through what chain. Interrogate if necessary. Investigate at minimum."
Noa set the paper down on her tablet.
"Sensei," she said slowly, "I am not a field operative."
"You're observant."
"I'm a secretary."
"Same skill set, different context."
"My capabilities in a direct confrontation are extremely limited."
"The helmet gang is terrified of me, according to the note," Leon said, completely unbothered. "That fear is a usable resource. You're operating on my behalf. That should carry weight."
Noa processed that logic and found it somehow both absurd and potentially valid.
"And who," she asked, "will handle SCHALE's administrative work while I'm out?"
"Lily."
"Lily is a plant."
"Lily is extremely organized." Leon paused. "She's better at filing than most humans I've worked with."
She had no rebuttal for that because she'd watched Lily reorganize an entire shelf of medical supplies yesterday with what could only be described as aggressive efficiency.
"If you're still concerned about safety," Leon added, "take the briefcase."
He said it with the absolute confidence of someone offering a complete solution.
Noa looked at him. Then at the briefcase sitting beside the bed.
"…Are you sure?" she asked.
"Yes."
The lack of hesitation sounds more concerning than reassuring.
Noa stood up, walked over to the briefcase, and opened it.
Her brain cataloged the contents automatically because that was what her brain did. Secretaries inventoried things. It was reflexive.
Inside was:
wooden stake (worn handle, recently sharpened).
bundle of incense sticks wrapped in red paper.
handheld bell with an elaborate dragon design.
container of salt (sea salt, not table salt, labeled in what looked like hand-written Chinese characters).
roll of prayer beads.
An electric guitar.
bag of seeds (sunflower, she thought).
kitchen knife that had definitely seen non-culinary use.
USB drive.
One pair of brass knuckles.
small mirror.
bottle of clear liquid (water? holy water? regular water that Leon believed very hard was holy water?).
And several items she couldn't identify at all, objects that looked hand-made, inscribed with symbols she didn't recognize, radiating the specific energy of things that had been used for something important enough to leave a mark.
"These are tools I created over the years," Leon said from the bed. "Created using my Innate exorcism technique. Gimmick specific to me. Won't elaborate right now."
Noa filed that statement under: Questions to return to later—innate techniques, creation methods, theological implications.
Then she filed the entire briefcase inventory under: Sensei—equipment manifest—deeply strange, somehow complete, requires follow-up.
Then she picked up the briefcase and moved on because the job needed doing.
"Alright," she said. "I'll go."
Leon sat up slightly. "Wait, actually, if I could just—"
Noa smiled at him.
It was the same smile she used at Seminar when someone tried to argue for budget increases after submitting incomplete paperwork. Polite. Patient. Utterly immovable.
"Sensei," she said sweetly, "you are going to stay in this infirmary, rest properly, and let your injuries heal. I have given you every practical accommodation available. Lily is handling the administrative work. I am handling the field investigation. You are handling nothing except your recovery."
The smile didn't waver.
Leon stared at her for a long moment.
Then he sank back against the pillows.
"…Understood," he said quietly.
Noa picked up the briefcase. It was heavier than it looked. She adjusted her grip, made a mental note about weight distribution, and headed for the door.
"Don't leave the infirmary," she said over her shoulder.
"Wasn't planning to."
"Yes, you were."
"Fine. Now I'm not."
She opened the door. Paused.
She looked back.
"I'll be back before evening."
"Take your time," Leon said. "Do it right."
Noa nodded once and stepped out into the hallway.
The door closed behind her.
Inside the infirmary, Leon sat alone in the bed with his broken ribs, his concussion, his bruised everything, and absolutely no way to leave without breaking his word to someone who'd just smiled at him like a friendly threat.
He watched the ceilings as he recalled something:
Leon sat on his briefcase in the alleyway, notebook open on his lap, pen tapping against the page in a rhythm that didn't match anything.
"So here's what we do," Hatsusa said, arms crossed, floating at eye level. "You shake down the Kata-Kata Helmet Gang. Find their leader and get answers. Who hired them, how much they're getting paid, whether Kaiser's involved."
Leon stopped tapping. "Direct interrogation."
"Very direct."
"And you two?"
"We wanted to investigate the desert" Yume drifted closer. "There's been suspicious activity out there for months."
Hatsusa nodded. "Construction teams show up, take measurements, then vanish. Kaiser personnel near old Saint Nephthys sites. A warehouse that appeared six months ago with no permits." She listed them quickly. "Something's happening in that desert."
Leon wrote something down. "How long would it take?"
"Could take a while," Hatsusa admitted. "The desert's vast. Even for ghosts who don't get tired, searching it thoroughly means covering a lot of empty sand. It doesn't help that we only considered doing this recently."
"But we can go places you can't," Yume added. "Watch without being seen. Follow people who think they're alone."
Leon closed the notebook and tucked it back into his coat through an angle that didn't make physical sense. "Alright. I'll handle the helmet gang, you two handle the desert." He paused. "Problem though. I'm one guy. You're two are ghosts anchored to Abydos.."
"Is that a concern?" Hatsusa asked.
"Statement of fact." Leon stood up, picking up his briefcase alongside Lily. "I've worked worse jobs."
In hindsight, he really shouldn't do that boxing match yesterday.
But still
It was worth it.
Noa stood outside the apartment building, paper in one hand, briefcase in the other, trying to figure out what exactly she was supposed to do now.
The building was mid-tier residential. Six stories, concrete construction with aluminum window frames, external stairwell access on the east side.
There were no visible security cameras at the entranc. Maintenance appeared adequate—recent paint job on the exterior walls, functional lighting fixtures, minimal structural weathering. Foot traffic moderate for late morning. Demographic profile: working students, young professionals, possibly some retirees on fixed incomes based on the building's age and location.
She cataloged all of this automatically while her brain worked on the actual problem.
Which was that she was a secretary about to interrogate a gang leader.
The intellectual part of this appealed to her enormously. Pattern analysis across disparate data sources. Intelligence gathering through direct questioning. Building a coherent narrative from fragmentary evidence. It was similar to what she did at Seminar—extracting information, organizing it systematically, identifying inconsistencies that revealed deeper truths.
Except at Seminar she dealt with budget proposals and club activity reports and the usual trouble maker, not criminal conspiracy and weapons trafficking.
She had basic self-defense training. Emergency response protocols. And she's a pretty good shot for someone who's entire job is to file paperwork.
This was not that.
This was field interrogation work. This was walking into an unknown location for the first time to confront someone who led an armed gang, however incompetent that gang appeared to be, it was still an enemy territory. She had Leon's briefcase, his reputation as a deterrent, and her own analytical skills.
SCHALE had three members. One was a potted plant. One was in a hospital bed.
Which left only her.
And she'll make sure she won't disappoint.
She looked down at her phone, still open to the tutorial video she'd watched on the train.
"Basic Interrogation Techniques for Beginners"
It seemed helpful at the time. Now standing here, she wasn't sure watching a fifteen-minute video qualified her for anything except feeling slightly more informed about her own inexperience.
But it was better than not knowing, she has never done this explicit task ever. Yes she can be scary when confronting someone like Maki, but Maki is different, Maki isn't someone who would not hesitate to shoot her and beat her to the ground to rob her.
While traveling to the location, she also managed to find a couple of interesting things online about Abe Shione.
Noa took a breath and walked toward the entrance.
"Excuse me, miss?"
She turned around.
A robot stood there, humanoid frame with a digital faceplate currently displaying a cheerful eye-smile expression. Maintenance model, likely residential building management variant.
"I'm the building landlord," the robot said pleasantly. "Is there anything I can help you with?"
"I'm looking for a friend's room," Noa said, smile appearing automatically, tone warm and casual. "Abe Shione? I'm visiting but I forgot which floor she mentioned."
She lied easily as she breathe.
"Oh, Miss Abe! Room 304, third floor." The robot gestured toward the stairwell. "Take the stairs up, turn right, fourth door on the left. She's usually home around this time."
"Thank you so much."
"Of course! Have a wonderful visit."
Noa walked past, automatically noting the maintenance schedule posted near the mailboxes—building inspection due next week, elevator repairs completed three days ago—and entered through the main door.
The hallway was narrow. Flooring: vinyl tile, beige, moderate wear patterns suggesting regular foot traffic but adequate cleaning. Emergency exit at the far end, clearly marked, door appeared functional. No security cameras visible in the corridor. Ambient noise: muffled television from apartment 101, running water from somewhere above, normal residential sounds. Eight apartments per floor based on door spacing. Most showed signs of occupancy—shoes outside, nameplates, welcome mats.
She climbed the stairs to the third floor, briefcase feeling heavier with each step.
Third floor layout mirrored the first. She turned right, counted doors. One, two, three, four.
Room 304.
Noa stood there for a moment, reorganizing everything she'd observed into mental files that would be accessible later if needed. Then she knocked.
Polite. Professional. Three measured taps.
No response.
She waited fifteen seconds and knocked again, slightly louder.
Still nothing.
The third knock was harder, more insistent, knuckles impacting the door with enough force to rattle the frame slightly.
Movement inside. Footsteps. Slow, unsteady.
The door opened.
A girl stood there with messy silver hair sticking up at odd angles, eyes half-closed, wearing an oversized shirt that probably served as sleepwear. She looked extremely annoyed and possibly hungover.
"The hell do you want?" Shione's voice came out rough, irritated. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"
Noa swung the briefcase.
THWACK
Shione dropped to the floor.
Noa stepped over the unconscious body, entered the apartment, and closed the door behind her with a quiet click.
The apartment was small. Single room layout, kitchenette against the far wall, unmade futon in the corner, clothes scattered across the floor. Motorcycle helmet on the table. Weapons cabinet partially visible through an open closet door.
Noa stood there, briefcase still in hand, an unconscious gang leader crumpled on the floor near her feet, door locked behind her.
She set the briefcase down carefully and began cataloging the room's contents.
Work to do.
Noa stood in the apartment, door locked behind her, mentally cataloging everything within sight.
Single-room layout, approximately eighteen square meters. Kitchenette occupying the western wall—sink filled with unwashed dishes, expired milk carton on the counter (three days past date), rice cooker with hardened remnants suggesting it hadn't been cleaned in over a week. Unmade futon shoved against the eastern corner, sheets tangled, pillows without cases. Clothes scattered across the floor in no discernible pattern—mostly dark colors, practical cuts, several items with visible wear and tear.
Motorcycle helmet on the low table. Shoei model, matte black, moderate scratching on the left side indicating the owner had taken at least one significant fall. Energy drink cans clustered around it—six empty, two half-full. Bills stacked haphazardly beside them, envelopes torn open, contents visible: utility payment overdue by two weeks, rent notice marked "FINAL," credit card statement with a balance that explained why someone might take contract work from questionable sources.
The weapons cabinet in the closet stood partially open.
Noa walked over and examined it carefully.
Five empty slots. Two still occupied—a pump-action shotgun and what looked like a modified pistol. The empty spaces were sized for rifles and submachine guns based on the bracket configurations.
Abe Shione sat tied to a chair in the center of the room.
Noa had used an entire roll of duct tape. Multiple layers binding arms, torso, and legs to the furniture with systematic thoroughness. She'd tested each binding after application—proper tension, no circulation restriction, but zero mobility. Wrapped around the tape in several places were prayer beads from Leon's briefcase, wooden and slightly worn, positioned at what she assumed were spiritually significant points based on the brief instructional note she'd found tucked inside the briefcase lid.
Shione's head lolled forward. Still unconscious. Breathing steady.
Noa set the empty duct tape roll aside and picked up a fresh one from the briefcase.
This one had a label: SOUNDPROOFING GRADE - NOISE REDUCTION CERTIFIED.
She walked to the door and began applying strips horizontally across the frame.
Behind her, Shione stirred.
A groan. Soft at first, then louder as consciousness returned in stages. Her head lifted slowly, eyes blinking against the harsh overhead light. Panic hit immediately.
Shione jerked against the restraints hard enough to make the chair legs scrape against the floor. The duct tape held. The prayer beads rattled but stayed in place.
"What the—" Her voice came out rough, disoriented. "What the hell?!"
She twisted her head, scanning the room, and locked onto Noa standing at the door calmly layering soundproofing tape across the frame.
Recognition dawned on her.
"You!" Shione's voice jumped an octave. "You're that—you knocked me out! You broke into my apartment and knocked me out!"
Noa pressed another strip of tape down smoothly, making sure the edges aligned properly.
"Do you have any idea who I am?!" Shione's anger surged, overriding the confusion. "I'm the leader of Kata-Kata Helmet Gang! My crew's gonna kick your ass when they find out about this! They're gonna—"
Another strip. Horizontal. Overlapping the previous one by exactly two centimeters.
"Untie me right now!" Shione pulled against the restraints again, harder. "Right now or you're dead! I don't care if you're from Millennium, I don't care if you think you're protected, you just assaulted someone in their own home!"
Noa finished the final strip and smoothed it down carefully.
She turned around.
The cheap ceiling light cast harsh shadows across her face. Her expression hadn't changed. The same subtle smile she'd worn in the hallway. Calm. Pleasant. Almost serene.
But the eyes.
What Shione could see of them through the shadow wasn't right. Cold. Analytical. Completely detached from the smile below. Like two separate people occupying the same face, one performing politeness while the other calculated something far less friendly.
Smiles didn't look like that.
People didn't look like that.
Shione's next threat died in her throat.
Noa reached into the open briefcase on the table.
And pulled out a wooden gavel.
She walked over to the wall.
She raised the gavel.
She slammed it down.
CRACK.
The sound cut through the room like a gunshot. The gavel punched into the plaster, leaving a visible crater. Dust exploded outward. Chunks of wall material scattered across the floor. A spiderweb of cracks spread from the impact point.
Shione flinched hard enough to rock the chair backward.
Noa set the gavel down on the table with deliberate care, positioning it parallel to the table's edge with exact precision.
Then she spoke.
"Abe Shione. Age sixteen. Current leader of the Kata-Kata Helmet Gang. You operated primarily out of the Abydos district where your organization launched fifty-seven documented harassment incidents against Abydos High School between March fifteenth and May tenth. Three days ago you and your crew were forcibly expelled from the district by what you believed to be a supernatural entity. In your panic, you planted a white flag outside the school's entrance with a handwritten declaration that you would never return. The note included three postscripts."
She paused.
"One of those postscripts stated your belief that acknowledge SCHALE's Sensei—Leon—is a legitimate exorcist."
Shione stared at her.
"How the hell do you—"
"You currently reside at this address, Building 6, Room 304, Shiratori District residential sector seven. Prior to this you lived in three different locations over the past two years." Noa's tone didn't change. "First in the Gehenna autonomous region, student dormitory block C. Then briefly in a shared apartment in downtown Kivotos—four roommates, two month lease, evicted for noise violations. Then a short-term rental in the industrial district before moving here six months ago."
Shione's mouth opened. Closed. No sound came out.
Noa walked slowly around the chair, circling Shione while she spoke.
Her mind pulled files automatically. Cross-referenced data. Organized information into presentable structure.
The apartment told stories if you knew how to read them. The energy drink brands—Moonster and Red Bill, suggesting Shione worked irregular hours or maintained odd sleep schedules. The dates on the bills—the rent notice was three weeks overdue, the utility payment two weeks, meaning she'd been in financial trouble for at least a month before the Abydos incidents stopped. The motorcycle helmet's damage pattern suggested a crash at moderate speed, probably six to eight months old based on the wear pattern around the scratched area—right when she moved into this apartment.
The empty weapon slots in the cabinet matched exactly with the equipment Ayane had cataloged during the Abydos attacks.
Meaning Shione's crew had the weapons with them currently or they'd been sold to cover the overdue rent. The laundry situation—visible pile in the corner, all dirty, nothing clean in sight—suggested she'd stopped maintaining basic routines approximately one week ago, around the same time the white flag was planted. Depression or trauma response. Possibly both.
"You founded the Kata-Kata Helmet Gang eight months ago after leaving Gehenna," Noa continued. "Initial membership was seven people. That number grew to fifteen at its peak, then dropped to nine after your group's reputation for failing contracts became widely known. Your gang's primary income sources include protection money collection—unsuccessful due to territorial conflicts with established groups—and contract work for various clients who hired you for jobs requiring deniability."
Shione was sweating now. Visible beads forming along her hairline despite the room's moderate temperature.
"Your weapons purchases were made through two separate dealers. One operating out of the black market district near the port—specializing in surplus military hardware. The other through a front company registered under Kaiser Industries subsidiaries that provided what you believed was 'discounted equipment' for first-time buyers."
Noa stopped circling and stood directly in front of the chair.
"You have no arrest record. Three warnings from various district security forces. Multiple complaints filed against you by business owners, all withdrawn before reaching formal proceedings. Your social media presence includes accounts on four platforms under two different usernames. Recent posts show declining activity starting approximately six weeks ago and complete silence starting four days ago."
She crouched down slightly, bringing herself to eye level.
"Your motorcycle is a Yamana SR400, currently parked in the building's ground floor storage area in slot 12. Registration expired two months ago. Insurance lapsed three weeks ago. The damage to your helmet corresponds with a documented incident on the industrial district highway approximately seven months ago where you were cited for reckless driving but the citation was later dismissed due to—"
"Stop." Shione's voice came out strained. "Stop, just—how do you know all this?"
Her breathing had changed. Faster. Shallower. Fight-or-flight response triggering against restraints that wouldn't budge.
Noa didn't answer the question.
She stood back up and walked to the table, picking up a notepad she'd set there earlier. Flipped through pages. Everything she'd just recited was written down, organized in neat columns with timestamps and source citations.
She'd compiled most of it during the train ride using public records, social media searches, and cross-referencing databases she had access to through Seminar's administrative systems. Some of it came from Leon's notes. Some from logical inference based on available data points.
She set the notepad down and walked closer.
Shione pressed back against the chair instinctively. Nowhere to go.
Noa reached out and gently but firmly grabbed Shione's chin, tilting her head up to force direct eye contact.
The smile was still there. Subtle. Unchanged.
The eyes were ice.
"My name is Ushio Noa," she said quietly
"SCHALE secretary"
Her grip on Shione's chin tightened slightly. Not painful. Just impossible to ignore.
"I want to know three things." Her voice stayed calm. Professional. Like she was requesting budget documentation. "Who hired the Kata-Kata Helmet Gang to attack Abydos High School. How much your gang was paid for this contract. And what your actual objectives were beyond surface-level harassment."
The politeness made it worse.
Shione's pupils were dilated. Breathing shallow and rapid. Muscle tension visible across her shoulders and neck. Sweat now running down the side of her face. Every physiological marker of genuine fear presenting simultaneously.
Noa leaned in closer.
"Who."
"Hired."
"You."
The room shifted.
Shione felt it before she saw it—the temperature dropping, the air growing heavy, the overhead light flickering once, twice, then dimming to nothing except a deep crimson glow that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once.
Red light.
Everything was red.
The walls started cracking. Not metaphorically. Actually cracking. Spiderweb fractures spreading across the plaster like something was breaking through from the other side. The sound was wrong—grinding, groaning, the structural integrity of reality itself coming apart at the seams.
And Noa.
Noa's figure went dark.
Her silhouette remained visible against the red light but everything else was shadow. Pure black. No features. No face. Just a human-shaped void standing directly in front of her, hand still gripping her chin with impossible strength, asking questions in that calm, precise voice that now echoed like it was coming from somewhere far deeper than a human throat should reach.
The smile was still there.
Visible in the darkness somehow. White teeth in a black face. Too wide. Too sharp.
"Who hired you?" the shadow asked again.
Shione's face crumpled.
Her eyes welled up instantly. Her bottom lip trembled.
And then she started crying.
Not delicate tears. Not quiet distress. Full, hiccupping, completely unrestrained sobbing like every nightmare she'd ever had about ghosts and exorcists and supernatural revenge had just manifested in her apartment at the same time.
"I'M SORRY!" Shione wailed. "I'M SO SORRY! PLEASE DON'T TAKE ME TO HELL!"
Noa blinked.
Shione was crying.
Loudly.
Why was she crying?
Noa looked down at her hand, still holding Shione's chin, and immediately let go. Had she gripped too hard? Was that it? She'd been careful about pressure—firm but not painful. That was supposed to be intimidating without causing actual harm.
But Shione was sobbing like someone had just told her every pet she'd ever owned had died simultaneously.
The overhead light cast its normal pale glow across the room. The blue storage bins stacked near the closet remained exactly where they'd been. Nothing had changed.
Except Shione was having a complete breakdown.
"I didn't mean to!" Shione gasped between sobs. "We were just doing what we were told! I'm sorry we attacked Abydos! I'm sorry my two dumbass crew members kidnapped the cute cat girl! I didn't want to hurt her!"
Shione sniffed
"Please don't haunt me!" Shione begged, snot running down her face. "I know Sensei's a real exorcist! I know he can see ghosts! I planted the flag! I wrote the note! Three postscripts! We're never going back to Abydos! Never! I promise!"
"I'm not going to haunt—"
"We were hired!" Shione blurted out, words tumbling over each other. "A loan shark hired us! We were supposed to kick out the Abydos girls! Make them give up the school! That was the job! That's all it was! Just harassment until they left!"
Noa's eyes narrowed, she leaned forward slightly despite the guilt starting to creep in. "Which loan shark specifically?"
"Kaiser something! Kaiser—Kaiser Loan Company!" Shione was crying so hard she could barely get the words out. "They paid us monthly! Cash payments! We were supposed to attack every few days! Minimal damage but maximum fear! That was the contract!"
Noa's mind shifted into analytical mode automatically.
Kaiser Loan Company.
She knew that name. Kaiser Corporation—massive conglomerate operating across multiple sectors. Private military, construction, manufacturing, financial services. But only one branch specifically dealt with loans: Kaiser Loan Company, which handled debt collection and financing throughout Kivotos.
Abydos High School was in debt.
Nine hundred million yen.
The Foreclosure Office students had been making monthly payments for months. Hoshino had mentioned it multiple times—the debt, the pressure, the constant strain of keeping the school operational while trying to pay down an impossible sum.
But if Kaiser Loan hired the helmet gang to attack the school while simultaneously collecting payments—
The pattern clicked into place.
Pressure campaign. Keep the debt officially on the books while actively sabotaging any chance of repayment. The students make their monthly cash payments—always cash, always exact amounts, never electronic transfers that would leave proper records. Meanwhile the helmet gang makes the school progressively more unlivable.
Eventually the students can't sustain both the payments and the constant attacks. They default. Kaiser legally seizes Abydos property and territory as collateral for the unpaid debt.
The entire operation was designed to look legitimate while being fundamentally fraudulent. The loan was real, the payments were real, but the collection methodology was criminal. And because everything was cash-based, there would be minimal paper trail connecting Kaiser Loan's official business to the harassment campaign.
"Please forgive me!" Shione wailed, breaking through Noa's analysis. "I didn't know they were good people! I didn't know they were trying so hard! I just needed the money! We all needed the money!"
"It's—" Noa started, genuinely unsure what to say.
"WAAAAAAAAAAH!"
The crying got exponentially louder.
Oh no.
Noa felt panic rising. This was getting worse instead of better. She'd tied up a sixteen-year-old girl, intimidated her into confession, and now that girl was having a complete emotional breakdown
and Noa didn't know how to make it stop.
"I HAVEN'T EVEN FOUND A BOYFRIEND YET!" Shione sobbed. "I'M TOO YOUNG TO BE HAUNTED FOREVER!"
"You're not going to be—"
"MY LIFE IS OVER!"
"Your life is not—"
"I'M GOING TO DIE ALONE AND UNLOVED!"
Noa stood there holding a briefcase full of weapons and exorcism tools, having committed breaking and entering, assault, and unlawful restraint, while a gang leader cried about her romantic prospects.
This was definitely not in the tutorial video.
"Shione-san," she said as gently as she could manage. "You've been very helpful. The information you've provided is extremely valuable—"
"REALLY?!"
"Yes, really."
"WAAAAAAAAAAH YOU'RE SO KIND NOA-SAN!"
Shione somehow started crying harder.
These were different tears now. Happy tears? Mixed with scared tears? Some kind of emotional hybrid that manifested as even louder sobbing accompanied by a trembling smile.
Noa had no reference point for this.
"The weapons," she tried, redirecting toward intelligence gathering because that felt safer than whatever emotional territory they'd entered. "Where did you acquire high-grade equipment?"
"Black market!" Shione hiccupped, wiping her nose on her shoulder. "I bought them from dealers at the black market! Multiple suppliers! Some were independent! Some were connected to bigger operations! I didn't ask too many questions!"
Noa filed that location away immediately.
"How often did Kaiser Loan contact you?" Noa asked.
"Monthly! Same time as the payment collections! They'd send someone to confirm we were still doing the job!" Shione was calming down slightly, sniffing, focusing on answering questions. "They always knew exactly what we'd done that month! How many attacks! How much damage! They were tracking everything!"
Professional operation. Systematic. Multiple cutouts between Kaiser Loan's legitimate business and the criminal harassment. Whoever designed this had experience with plausible deniability and compartmentalized information flow.
"Did they ever mention why they wanted Abydos specifically?"
"No! They just said kick out the students! Make the school fail! That was the only objective!" Shione's eyes welled up again. "I didn't think about it! I just took the money! I'm a terrible person!"
"You've shown genuine remorse," Noa said, crouching down to start removing the duct tape because the guilt had reached critical mass and she couldn't keep someone tied up while they were having an existential crisis. "That demonstrates capacity for self-reflection and change."
The tape came off in careful strips. She worked methodically, trying to ignore the continued sniffling happening directly above her hands. The prayer beads went back into the briefcase—she still wasn't entirely sure what they did, but Leon had included them so they probably served some spiritual function she didn't understand.
Shione was freed.
She immediately slumped forward in the chair, rubbing her wrists, tears still running down her face but quieter now.
Noa stood up and took a breath.
"Shione-san," she said in her most professional Seminar voice—the one she used when helping struggling club representatives organize their budget proposals. "It's not too late to turn your life around. You're sixteen. You have options ahead of you. Better choices you can make starting right now."
Shione looked up with red, puffy eyes. "You think so?"
"I know so. Delinquency isn't a permanent state. It's a series of choices. You can start making different ones."
"WAAAAAAAH!" Fresh tears. Happy ones this time, definitely happy ones. "YOU'RE SUCH A GOOD PERSON!"
Noa's eye twitched slightly.
"If you're struggling," she continued, pushing through the discomfort, "if you need help or guidance or just someone to talk to about making better decisions, you can come to SCHALE. We can provide assistance. Resources. Support structures."
She meant it. The offer was genuine. She couldn't leave someone in this state without providing some kind of framework for improvement. That was basic Seminar methodology—identify the problem, offer solutions, create pathways toward positive outcomes.
"Really?" Shione's voice came out small and fragile. "Even for someone like me?"
"Yes."
"Even after everything I did?"
"You've provided valuable intelligence and shown genuine willingness to change. That's what matters going forward."
Shione sniffed hard and nodded, wiping her face with both hands. "Okay. Okay I'll—I'll try to be better. I promise."
Noa picked up the briefcase, ready to make her exit before this situation could get any more emotionally complicated.
"Noa-san, wait!"
She paused at the door.
Shione stood up shakily from the chair. "Do you think...even someone like me...a delinquent who made so many bad choices...do you think I could still find love someday?"
Noa stared at her.
This was not an intelligence question.
This was not related to the investigation.
This was a sixteen-year-old girl having a quarter-life crisis while standing in her messy apartment after being interrogated by someone she thought might be a ghost.
"I... don't know," Noa said honestly, because what else could she say? "I don't have a boyfriend either. But I wish you luck?"
It came out more like a question than a statement.
Shione nodded seriously, as if this was profound wisdom. "Thank you, Noa-san. I hope you find a good boyfriend too. Someone who deserves you."
"That's... thank you."
Okay.
Time to leave.
Right now.
Immediately.
Noa grabbed the briefcase properly, gave the most abbreviated polite nod she could manage, and walked toward the door with purposeful speed.
"NOA-SAN!"
She did not turn around.
"THANK YOU FOR EVERYTHING! YOU CHANGED MY LIFE!"
Noa opened the door.
"I'LL NEVER FORGET THIS!"
She stepped through.
"YOU'RE THE BEST PERSON I'VE EVER MET!"
She closed the door.
Muffled crying continued behind it. Happy crying. Grateful crying. Crying that suggested Shione was having some kind of emotional breakthrough that Noa wanted absolutely no part of.
She stood in the hallway for exactly two seconds.
Then she ran.
Full sprint. Down the corridor, around the corner, hitting the stairwell at maximum speed. The briefcase bounced against her leg with every step.
She took the stairs three at a time, burst through the ground floor exit, and kept running until she was two full blocks away from the building.
Only then did she stop, breathing harder than the physical exertion warranted, standing on a street corner trying to process what had just happened.
Her first field interrogation.
She'd obtained critical intelligence: Kaiser Loan Company hired the helmet gang as part of a coordinated pressure campaign. The attacks were systematic, tracked, and designed to force Abydos into default while maintaining the appearance of legitimate debt collection.
Transactions happened at Stygian Bank.
She'd also somehow become a life coach to a crying delinquent who asked her for romantic advice after being tied to a chair.
Noa looked down at the briefcase.
Then up at the sky.
Then back at the briefcase.
The briefcase offered no comment.
Delinquents were weird.
Kata-Kata Helmet Gang were exceptionally weird.
And she was never, ever conducting field interrogations alone again.
Noa stood on the street corner, briefcase in hand, and pulled out her phone.
She needed to report immediately.
Her thumbs moved across the screen with practiced efficiency.
Noa: Sensei. Intelligence gathered from Abe Shione. Kaiser Loan Company hired Kata-Kata Helmet Gang. Monthly cash payments. Objective: force Abydos students to abandon school through sustained harassment. Weapons sourced from black market, the transactions operating near Stygian Bank.
The response came back almost immediately.
Leon: Good work. Go to Abydos now. Tell them everything. This is too important to wait.
Noa: Understood.
Leon: Whatever the girls are planning, follow their lead and help. I'm currently too preoccupied with being held hostage by a hospital bed.
Noa nodded to herself even though he couldn't see it.
Noa: Will do.
She hesitated, thumb hovering over the keyboard.
Should she mention that Shione had a complete breakdown? That the interrogation turned into life coaching? That the girl cried so hard she asked for romantic advice?
No.
Definitely not.
She'd rather not explain that part.
Noa: How is Lily handling the administrative work?
Leon: She's very good. You don't need to worry about Lily.
Noa: She's a plant.
Leon: She's very well-read. Honestly I'm impressed by how much she knows. Literature, history, municipal law, filing systems, three different languages. Her penmanship is better than mine.
Leon: I've been wondering if I should have Lily apply to one of the academies here. There's a lot of things she could learn that I can't teach her. She's shown interest in formal education.
Noa blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Then she looked back down at the message.
That was...
Actually not a terrible idea.
The realization caught her slightly off guard.
On paper, the proposal sounded absurd. Completely absurd.
Lily was a plant.
A potted plant.
A potted plant that communicated through leaf movement, written notes, and whatever strange method allowed Leon to understand her intentions with such consistency.
Yet when Noa thought back on every interaction she'd had with Lily, the absurdity began falling apart surprisingly quickly.
Yes, Lily lacked a voice.
Yes, she couldn't verbally participate in conversations.
Yes she lacked basic humanoid body parts.
But beyond those limitations? She wasn't meaningfully different from a person. She listened when people spoke. She learned. She expressed preferences.She followed instructions. She displayed curiosity about unfamiliar situations. She made decisions independently, she has hobby, likes and dislike like every other person.
Most importantly, she actively sought out new experiences.
Noa still remembered the way Lily had reacted after being given permission to leave the infirmary. The immediate rustling excitement. The decisive movement toward the door. The unmistakable eagerness of someone excited to explore something new.
That wasn't the behavior of a decorative houseplant.
That was the behavior of a child discovering the world.
And unlike many children, Lily apparently spent her free time studying municipal law.
The more Noa considered it, the harder it became to dismiss the idea outright.
Lily could read.
She could write.
According to Leon, she was capable of understanding policy documents, literature, technical manuals, and administrative procedure.
Academies existed to educate students.
If Lily genuinely possessed the intellectual ability to learn, then the question stopped being whether she deserved an education and became how such an education would actually work.
Noa found herself considering the possibility more seriously than she expected.
A sentient plant enrolling in one of Kivotos's academies would certainly attract attention.
Assuming Lily enrolled in Millennium, the academy in particular would probably lose its collective mind.
Entire research departments would likely compete for the opportunity to study her. Academic journals would have a field day. Depending on how unique Lily actually was, her existence alone could become the foundation for multiple breakthroughs in biology, consciousness studies, artificial life research, or entirely new scientific disciplines.
Though admittedly...
That was assuming Lily had any interest in such things.
From what Noa had observed, Lily didn't seem particularly fascinated by scientific discovery.
She seemed fascinated by people.
Books.
Stories.
Experiences.
The world itself.
The eagerness she displayed reminded Noa much more of a curious child encountering something new than a future researcher chasing academic prestige.
Noa found herself typing before she fully realized she had decided to entertain the possibility seriously.
Noa: How old is Lily? In equivalent human years?
Leon: Chronologically she's as old as me. But in plant years she's about fourteen.
Fourteen.
The minimum enrollment age for Kivotos academies was fifteen, but there were provisions for early admission.
Noa: Kivotos student minimum is 15 years old. But Lily could enter a year early if she can pass the standard competency examination and get approval from an academy's student council. The test covers basic academics, combat proficiency assessment, and a council interview. If she's as well-read as you say, the academic portion shouldn't be an issue.
Leon: Combat proficiency might be interesting.
Noa: Can she fight?
Leon: She can stab someone with a knife taped to her pot. Does that count?
Noa: ...I'll mark that as "requires evaluation."
Leon: 🤷
Leon: I'll worry about Lily's academic future later. Right now focus on Abydos.
Noa: Understood. Will update you after I speak with them.
She was about to put the phone away when another message came through.
Not from Leon.
Tsukatsuki Rio
She stares at her screen for moment before opening up the message
Rio: Noa. If you're not busy, would you mind answering a few questions?
Noa sighed.
She respected President Rio. Genuinely. Rio was brilliant, methodical, incredibly capable at running Millennium's complex administrative systems. But ever since Noa started working with SCHALE—ever since she'd mentioned Leon in passing during a Seminar meeting—Rio had developed this... interest.
It wasn't normal.
Rio was usually cold. Detached. Professionally distant from everyone except when it came to Millennium's security and operational efficiency. She didn't get personally curious about people. She analyzed threats and calculated probabilities and maintained surveillance networks, but she didn't ask questions about individuals unless they posed strategic concerns.
Except now she asked about Leon.
A lot.
Every time Noa returned to Millennium, Rio would find her. Casual questions at first. Then more specific. What was Sensei like? What methods did he use? How did he approach problems? And recently—this was the weird part—questions about exorcism, spiritual phenomena, religious practices.
Rio wasn't religious. She'd stated that explicitly multiple times. She operated on empirical data and logical frameworks.
But she kept asking.
Yuuka had noticed too. They'd exchanged looks during the last Seminar meeting when Rio spent fifteen minutes asking Noa about Leon's background before finally moving on to actual budget discussions.
It was eyebrow-raising.
So she didn't reveal anything about ghost or the fact exorcism were all real.
Noa: I can answer when I'm back at Millennium. Currently handling field assignments.
Rio: Understood. Later then.
Noa put her phone away and started walking toward the train station.
She didn't mention she was going to Abydos. Rio would ask why. That would lead to questions about the investigation. Which would lead to more questions about Leon. Which would spiral into another conversation about spiritual matters that Noa didn't have time for right now.
She had intelligence to deliver.
A conspiracy to help unravel.
Kivotos was weird.
Her life had become weird.
She was just going to accept that and keep moving.
The train station came into view ahead. She picked up her pace, briefcase swinging at her side, mind already organizing how to present the Kaiser Loan information to the Foreclosure Office students in a way that was clear, actionable, and didn't require explaining that she'd obtained it by assaulting someone in their apartment.
Professional intelligence delivery.
She could do that.
Probably.
Unbeknownst to her, a single pot of white lily sat on the platform bench not too far behind her, leaves perfectly still, angled in the direction Noa had just walked.
Noa dislikes the heat.
The heat was immediate and personal.
Not warm.
Not hot.
Desert hot, that made the air above the sand shimmer and convinced her body that breathing was optional. She had her jacket off before she'd walked ten steps from the platform, draping it over her arm while squinting against the glare.
The school building sat ahead through the heat haze. Sand-buried walls, half-swallowed infrastructure, the particular kind of architectural resilience that only came from years of stubborn refusal to collapse. Noa had seen the administrative records. The building had no business still standing.
Then she saw the van.
White paneling. Clean corporate logo. Kaiser Loan Company printed beneath a stylized K in letters that were almost aggressively professional for a debt collection vehicle.
Her eyes went sharp.
The Foreclosure Office girls were clustered near it. Hoshino had an envelope. A robot employee accepted it, counted the contents without expression, nodded once, and climbed back into the driver's seat.
The engine turned over.
The van rolled past her without slowing.
Noa stood still and read the plate as it passed.
KL-7843-A.
Her mind pulled it apart automatically.
KL: Kaiser Loan Company. Corporate prefix, not district, not civilian. It answered to Kaiser's internal structure rather than any school's autonomous administration. School districts used abbreviated school names, civilians used regional zone codes, corporations used company identifiers. KL was the loan branch specifically.
A: administrative classification. Office vehicle. Personnel carrier. Whatever this robot employee did in Abydos today was logged internally as routine administrative work. Scheduled stop. Standard procedure. Nothing flagged.
Android driver. No distinguishing features. Timestamp: 11:47.
Direction northeast toward the main road out of Abydos.
The van was gone in under ten seconds, into the desert.
Noa stood in the heat and watched the dust settle where the van had been.
"Ah, Noa-san!"
Ayane was waving from the school entrance. The others looked over with varying degrees of surprise.
Noa adjusted her grip on the briefcase and walked toward them.
"HA!?"
Serika stared at Noa like she'd just announced the sun was falling.
"The helmet gang was hired?"
"That's what the intelligence suggests," Noa said carefully.
They'd relocated inside—marginally cooler, marginally less blinding. Noa had laid out the basics across the low table while everyone arranged themselves around it. The summary hadn't taken long. The reactions were taking considerably longer.
"Hired by Kaiser Loan specifically," Noa continued. "Monthly payments. Cash only. The objective was to maintain consistent pressure on the school until operations became unsustainable."
"Consistent is one way to put it," Hoshino said from her spot against the wall, arms folded, eyes half-closed. She looked like someone who'd been awake for three days and had stopped being surprised by bad news somewhere around day one. "Those attacks were like clockwork. Every few days, same pattern, same level of damage. Never enough to actually destroy anything outright."
"Right," Noa said. "That's not a coincidence."
"Wait, wait." Serika held up a hand. "How do you even know all this? Where did this come from?"
Noa had prepared for this question on the train.
"Sensei conducted his investigation before he was hospitalized and managed to obtain testimony from a source within the helmet gang's network." She kept her tone even. Informative. The exact register she used when presenting Seminar reports that contained sensitive sourcing she couldn't fully disclose. "The source provided detailed information about the contract structure, payment methods, and objectives."
"What source?" Hoshino asked.
"I can't provide that information. Source protection."
Specifically, protection from answering HOW she got it.
Hoshino looked at her for a moment with that half-lidded expression that was somehow more evaluating than most people's full attention. "So Sensei did his things."
"Sensei did his things," Noa confirmed.
"While currently occupying an infirmary bed."
"He's very dedicated."
Serika made a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a groan. "Considering what he pulled yesterday, he should be grateful he's only in an infirmary."
"He's aware," Noa said.
Ayane had her notebook open, pen moving. "The black market sourcing matches my equipment analysis. I documented the helmet gang's weapons across seventeen separate incidents—the optical systems alone suggested supplier connections well above what a local delinquent group could establish independently." She looked up. "I suspected external funding but I couldn't identify a source."
"Now you have one," Noa said.
"Now I have one." Ayane tapped her pen against the page. "The question is whether we can verify it."
"That's the problem," Hoshino said. "Right now all we have is Noa's word." She glanced over at the Milennium student. "Which is pretty good, honestly, don't get me wrong, but it's not concrete yet"
Shiroko raised her hand slightly. "Can we report this? Like, to someone official?"
Hoshino shook her head. "Report what? That someone told someone that a company we already have a debt relationship with might be involved in attacks on our school? We'd need actual evidence before anyone takes that seriously."
"So what do we do?" Nonomi asked.
Noa set her phone on the table, notes visible. "We find the evidence of course. The weapons came from the black market district. Specifically from dealers connected to a bank operating inside it called Stygian Bank. If we can trace the supply chain, we might find documentation connecting Kaiser Loan to the purchases."
"Stygian Bank," Ayane repeated, writing it down. "I've never heard of the name, but then again I've never been to the black market."
"None of us have," Serika said.
"Right." Hoshino pushed off the wall slowly, with the energy of someone conserving every possible calorie as she stretched her body. "So we go take a look?"
"I'll go with you," Noa said.
Ayane looked up immediately. "Actually, I think Noa-san might be more useful staying here with me. We could cross-reference the equipment records against known black market supplier profiles, build a stronger case before—"
"I appreciate that," Noa interrupted gently, "but I should go in person. I can retain everything I observe without taking notes, which matters in an environment where taking notes might attract attention."
"But the black market is—"
"Ayane-san." Noa smiled. "Sensei lent me his briefcase."
Shiroko leaned forward with sudden interest. "What's in it?"
"Exorcism tools," Noa said. "Among other things."
"Like what other things?"
Noa considered how to answer this accurately. "Various implements. Equipment for different situations."
"Like tools to open bank vaults?"
"No."
"But theoretically—"
"No."
Shiroko leaned back, expression thoughtful in a way that suggested she was filing this away rather than abandoning the idea.
Hoshino was already moving toward the door, jacket in hand. "Alright. Serika, Shiroko, Nonomi—you're with me. Noa-san comes too." She glanced back at Ayane. "You're monitoring here, and support us from afar."
"Got it," Ayane said, not looking up from her notebook.
"Good." Hoshino paused at the door. "Everyone clear on the objective? We go, we look, we gather information. We don't do anything that escalates the situation."
Nods around the room.
Shiroko stood up, rolling her shoulders with the focused energy of someone who had been waiting for something to do. "So just to be absolutely clear." She looked at Hoshino. "We're heading into the black market district. Where Stygian Bank is. Which is a bank."
"Shiroko—"
"I'm just saying. If something happened to their vault while we were there, that's practically—"
"Shiroko."
"Coincidental—"
"WE ARE NOT ROBBING A BANK!" Serika's voice filled the room completely. "THAT IS NOT THE PLAN! THAT HAS NEVER BEEN THE PLAN! STOP BRINGING UP THE BANK!"
"I haven't brought it up before, this is literally the first—"
"THE ENERGY YOU'RE GIVING IS VERY BANK ROBBERY AND I NEED IT TO STOP!"
Ayane pressed her palm flat against her face.
Nonomi was trying very hard not to smile.
Hoshino had already walked out the door.
Noa picked up the briefcase and followed the group as they filed out of the room in varying states of exasperation.
Behind them, Ayane settled back into her chair with her notebook and her equipment records. Already feeling that this was going to be a long day.
She glanced at the clock on her tablet.
Yeah it's definitely going to be long.