Into the Metaverse

Saturday 16th April 2016

"We're almost done for the day," said Wakaba, glancing over his shoulder at the spreadsheet he was organising for her. "Hey, nice work! You're not as quick as me, but with a bit of time you'll be an excellent little data-analyst!"

She ruffled his hair affectionately and he half-heartedly tried to bat her away. "Hey, I know you only brought me here because your assistant is off sick."

"Well, yes," said Wakaba, pursing her lips. "But it's like Sojiro said—if you want to stick around here longer than your probation allows, you've got to earn it, kiddo."

Haruto rolled his eyes. "Pretty sure he was talking about me getting a job and paying him rent, not helping you out with your research projects."

She smirked at him. "Work experience is work experience—it'll come in useful eventually regardless. Now come on, we don't have much longer in here before one of the bigwigs comes in and tells us to buzz off."

"Alright, alright," sighed Haruto, making sure the document was all saved, then logging off. "Are we at least going out for dinner?"

"Tch, don't be so pushy," said Wakaba, packing her own things away. She looked up, glancing briefly at the door. A flicker of sombre sadness passed over her face. That was the fourth time today. Something was wrong. "Just give me a moment, I need to check on something before we leave."

She zipped up her bag, then headed over to the door, closing it softly behind her.

Ugh, this was hell. Literally surrounded by research on cognitive pscience-the one thing that might let him understand the Metaverse better—and he couldn't touch any of it. Wakaba was already suspicious enough of him. He couldn't risk her realising he was interested in her research too. For now he was just their troublesome lodger, finally released from a year of probation and refusing to return home because of his neglectful parents. And it wasn't like it was a lie. Not really. But he couldn't afford to have her realise now. Not after everything he'd done.

He shivered slightly. It was cold in the lab, even though it was the middle of spring. Damn all this equipment needing to be stored at low temperatures. Even his jacket didn't do much good. And he couldn't even scroll through his phone thanks to the data interference in here. He found his gaze settling on Wakaba's bag again. Nope. Too risky. But maybe… No. He couldn't think about it.

Hmm… She'd been gone for a while now-maybe he should check just to make sure—

The door clicked open.

Wakaba smiled at him as she walked in.

"All ready to go?"

"Yep," he said, smiling at her. The sooner he could escape from this hell-scape of temptation the better. "All set."

"Great," she said, slinging her bag over her shoulder, "let's go."

He walked with her out of the door, into the smaller room that was her office. No one else was left around. Wow, maybe it was later than he thought. He got his phone out to check as she locked the door behind him—there was no internet scramble in here, thank goodness. Seven-thirty. Huh, he actually had lost track of time in there. An unfortunate habit of his. He looked up from his phone, only to see Wakaba locking the other door out of her office as well.

A more easy-going person might have assumed she was just forgetful. But Haruto was not nearly so easy-going as he pretended to be. And he knew a trap when he saw one. Still. Best not to tip his hand too early.

"Hey, aren't we going?" he asked, sliding his phone into his pocket, leaving it unlocked, just in case. "Or are you just double-checking the locks?"

Wakaba sighed, slipping the key into her pocket, turning to face him with the sad smile she'd been trying to hide all day. "'Fraid not, kiddo."

Silence hung heavy in the air. Neither of them wanted to make the first move. Haruto could hear his heartbeat in his chest.

"You know it's pretty impressive," said Wakaba, her gaze not leaving his face even for a second, "a kid your age managing to keep everything under wraps for so long. You're lucky no one noticed sooner. Very lucky."

There was a slightly hard edge to her eyes now. But he couldn't afford to be the one to say it.

"Lucky about what?" he asked, projecting the air of casual ignorance he'd perfected over the course of nearly two years. "I'm… not really sure what you're talking about, to be honest."

Wakaba grinned. "Ah, you're a good actor Haruto. It always surprises me whenever you show it—you've got some real talent. So you want me to say it, huh? I guess I understand." Her expression turned hard again. "Well, let me lay it out for you then. I know what you've been doing over the course of the last two years. I know you know about the cognitive world. I know you've somehow managed to find a way inside. I know that, since you were fourteen, you've been using it to induce comas, death and complete changes of personality in all sorts of criminals all across Japan. I know what you are, Haruto. I know about everything."

His heart was beating so fast he almost couldn't hear himself think. So he'd been right about his suspicions. Goddammit. But there was still something missing—something crucial.

"Okay," he said, and he was surprised by the steadiness of his own voice, "so what happens now? You could have called the police on me ages ago. It would be easy to incriminate me, with my record."

Wakaba smiled. "Sharp as ever, Haruto. I have no desire to turn you into the police, as I'm sure you've worked out by now."

Yeah. That had been certain pretty much as soon as she'd locked the door.

"What do you want?" he asked. If he could just compromise with her… but she did have a Palace… Was there really no way out?

"What I want is very simple," she said, leaning casually against the door. "In exchange for you being able to go on living your life unimpeded, I want you to do me an immense favour."

She wasn't kidding—that much was obvious just by the look on her face. She took a deep breath.

"I want you to destroy Shido Masayoshi."

Shido…? But who? Nevermind—he wasn't some supernatural hitman out for hire. He couldn't do this.

"Oh, don't make that face," sighed Wakaba, staring at him. "I know you've killed before, Haruto."

"Who is he?" asked Haruto, his fingers hovering over the phone in his pocket.

Wakaba gave another wan smile. "I'm surprised someone as knowledgeable as you hasn't heard of him before. Technically, he's the owner of this place." She spread her arms to indicate her lab. "He's the one who commissioned my research."

"You… want me to kill your boss?"

"Hold your tongue, Haruto, I wasn't finished," she said, glaring at him sharply. "Being my boss is the least of Shido's crimes. He is a politician—a politician who has been very rapidly ascending the ranks of the political elite, these last few years."

"Through… less than honest means?" asked Haruto. Certainly Wakaba's research had menacing potential in the hands of the government, but…

"Precisely," said Wakaba. "He also has a penchant for attractive young women. Attractive young women who tend to mysteriously disappear once he gets bored of them."

Haruto felt a familiar hatred rolling in his stomach. Just like that asshole who'd gotten him sent here in the first place…

"Did he…?" he asked uncertainly.

"No," said Wakaba. "Thankfully I'm a little too important to him for anything like that. That's not to say his conduct is stellar at all times mind you—don't fool yourself into thinking I don't have to put up with the same bullshit all of us do."

"So he's a sexual harasser too," said Haruto.

"He's a rapist, to be slightly more accurate," said Wakaba, smiling grimly. Ah, she was always so delightfully blunt about things. "And though that's a crime in itself I confess my primary concern is more personal. I did not choose to work for him, you see.

"Several years ago now, he approached me about funding my research. I, sensing the kind of degenerate he was, refused him point-blank." A deep frown creased her face. "Unfortunately, that was not the end of it. A couple of weeks later, I got into a minor car accident—Futaba was in the car with me—and when my car was examined in the aftermath, it was found to have been tampered with. You'll never guess what arrived in the post the next day."

Haruto sighed. "A threatening letter?"

"Exactly that. I was forced to agree to let him have my research, or he'd target not only me, but Futaba and Sojiro as well. I couldn't abide that—so agreed to his terms, all the while thinking that if I could only complete this damned research I could probably use it to get back at him as he deserved. But he was watching too carefully. Probably guessed what I had in mind. So all I could do was stall. But I can't stall for much longer, Haruto… I just can't."

"I see," mumbled Haruto. And he did. He'd always noticed a certain strained quality to Wakaba's voice whenever she spoke of her work. He'd always assumed it was stress—or an ominous hint that she was onto him—but now… "He's caused you a lot of pain, hasn't he?"

"Immeasurable," said Wakaba. She was still smiling, but the smile didn't reach her eyes. "There have been days I thought I couldn't go on. The things he plans to do with my research, Haruto… the most dreadful things. It cannot happen. But it will, if no one stops him."

"So you're asking me to get rid of him."

She smiled, more genuinely now, and straightened up, facing him directly. "I am. When I realised you were the one causing all this disruption—at first I confess I was disgusted. I thought you might be like him—only doing it to achieve your own ends. But as I observed you interacting with Futaba and Sojiro—looked more closely into your friends in Tokyo, I realised you had more altruistic aims. After all, sometimes there's no other way out, am I correct?"

He felt himself breathe for what might have been the first time since she locked the door. "That's right."

The frown on Wakaba's face lightened slightly, and her shoulders relaxed as she took another step closer.

"So I ask you again, Haruto-will you help me destroy Masayoshi Shido?" Her lips pursed together slightly. "You have to understand—this might be the last chance I have to…"

He stepped towards her, catching her by the elbow and smiling—for once without any fake pretence whatsoever.

"I will," he said. "I could never leave a friend in need."

Wakaba chuckled like she almost couldn't believe her ears. "You… agree?"

"I do."

"Thank you," she said grasping his arm, the desperation finally beginning to fracture through her confident facade. "Thank you."

"It'll be okay," he said, helping her straighten up.

"I know," she said, straightening her glasses, and wiping away the tears that were threatening to fall down her cheeks. "It's just such a relief that… Thank you, Haruto. I don't know what I would have done if you'd refused."

"I wouldn't refuse," he said. "Getting rid of people like him is practically my job, you know."

She gave a slightly wild laugh. "Listen to you, so righteous. You should be on one of those TV shows."

"Now that would be ridiculous."

She laughed, and he couldn't help but laugh with her, as she unlocked the door and they stumbled out.

"So," she said, becoming a little more sober. "We have a deal, then?"

"We do," said Haruto.

"Then let's shake on it," she said, holding out her thin, pale hand. "Make it official, and everything."

"Of course," said Haruto, taking it and giving it a firm shake. "There. Now we're partners in crime."

Wakaba shook her head, but she couldn't hide the smile on her face. "Partners in crime, huh? What would your parents say?"

"Nothing much," he said, which was perfectly accurate.

Besides, they already thought he was a criminal anyway.

"So…" he said, as they exited the building. "Still no takeout?"

She shoved him in the back of the head, and he knew she was rolling her eyes behind him. "Alright. Just this once though."

"To celebrate our partnership!" he insisted.

"To celebrate our partnership."