RONIN - File 02: Black Tea

TOWN OF BANSHU, SOUTHERN WUTAI

WAKEISEIJAKU TEA HOUSE & CAFE

DISC 03 - JULY 2015

“What. Are. You. Doing. Here.” Shizune said, each word deliberately separated by space for emphasis.

She still had her gun trained on the sailor in gray coveralls who was seated by the window of her idyllic cafe, and her face was framed on either side by long, flowing locks of raven-black hair parted in the center. Aside from the gun which she aimed expertly at the sailor, she was dressed as a typical Wutaian cafe worker–relaxed-fit restaurant worker shirt with sleeves ending at just past the elbow and pants of subdued shades of brown hung loosely from her lithe frame. An apron covered most of the front of her outfit, a stylized chubby cat face embroidery just above the front breast pocket which made it look as though it were peeking out at the world. Shizune’s expression was as blank as the white fabric napkins which were meticulously placed at every seating, betraying none of the shock that was wildly misfiring in her mind.

Though the sailor sported a pseudo beard, a new dark tan complexion, and a laughable command of Wutaian, she had finally recognized the man as Riwin Koucha, a former Ace Turk from her old Turk unit, all of whom were exiled as enemies of the state by Shinra High Command five years prior. She had recognized him alright–that is, after he positively identified her by name and she had fired on him thrice at point-blank range. Being that she was a former Ace Turk herself, she did not miss her mark. Being that Riwin was also of the same stock, he was unscathed. A light summer wind disturbed the thin white curtain by the window making the sunlight dance over the wooden table.

Riwin shrugged as if nothing had happened. “I thought we could hang out and talk about old times. Drink tea and eat cheesecake together.”

“How did you find me?” Shizune asked evenly but firmly.

“Oh god, Shizune, that’s going to take forever to explain.”

Shizune winced at hearing her old name used to actually address herself. She flared her nostrils and exhaled sharply in frustration.

“Since we are being sloppy and simply blurting out names, I’ll say it again–what in the hell are you doing here, Riwin Koucha?”

“How about getting the band back together?” Riwin said with the Devil’s smile.

OPENING (Ronin Theme): “YOUNG MEN DEAD” by THE BLACK ANGELS

MIDGAR

SHINRA TOWER, 66TH FLOOR

DISC 01 - MAY 2005

“You smile too much,” Evan said. “Don’t let her see that.”

Riwin walked behind his commanding officer, wrinkling his nose in protest. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Your words say yes, while your face still causes problems,” Evan said.

“How did you even see that?” Riwin asked, flabbergasted.

“Because it’s me.”

Evan and Riwin strode purposefully down the hallway of the 66th floor in their suits, their footsteps echoing up from the marble floors and against the postmodern blankness of the reinforced steel corridor walls made to look like the office fiberglass of the walls of the other floors of the building. Despite his obvious height advantage, Riwin always found it odd that he had to make an actual effort to match Evan’s stride. They stopped at a door labeled “Break Room.” Evan put her hands in her pockets and stared at the opaque door, though to Riwin it looked almost as though she was staring through the door at the occupant inside.

“Koucha.”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Her actual training begins today. Go through the Disc 1 skillset module, make sure she becomes expertly proficient with her new talents. That much should be standard, run-of-the-mill stuff. However, as for the Disc 2…”

Evan trailed off into silence for a few moments.

“Ma’am?” Riwin asked, tentatively.

“Everyone who comes into this organization is different,” Evan said, still staring ahead. “The way that Valerick trained you for Disc 2–when you were still pretty and useless–will not really work with anyone else. You’ll have to observe how she handles assignments first, then amend the Disc 2 training accordingly. The best Turks are the ones who not only gain new skills, but who also have their existing skills refined beyond reckoning. And I don’t abide anyone but the best in my unit. Do you understand?”

Riwin nodded curtly. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Then repeat it back to me in your own words.”

Riwin cleared his throat, though he regretted it the moment he did. “For Disc 1, she gets the new skills like usual. For Disc 2, I am to adjust the training regimen to her strengths.”

“Incorrect,” Evan said. “For Disc 2, you are to adjust the regimen to enhance her strengths.”

Riwin nodded his assent silently, but Evan could sense the disappointment behind the gesture.

“Here,” Evan said, “think of it this way: you’re a strategist, right?”

“That’s why you hired me,” Riwin said with a hint of pride.

“Good. Then strategize her training as though she were a puzzle to be solved, a game to be cleared. Per her file and what we have seen of her thus far, we know that she’s a protocol hound who moonlights as a hacker. We’ll deal with the latter part eventually, but for now, for Disc 1, focus on getting her to think more fluidly, as you do. Remain a step ahead of her. Readjust the parameters mid-game, observe, repeat, then move on.”

“Can do, Boss,” Riwin said with a firm head nod. “By the time we’re done with Disc 1, she’ll be sufficiently adaptable, no worries on that at all.”

Riwin saw that Evan was grinning for but a split-second.

“What’s so funny?” Riwin asked nervously.

Evan gave a quick nasal exhale that might have been a laugh.

“She’s old Alpha blood. I wouldn’t be surprised if she pulled a gun on you during the festivities to come.”

Evan turned to leave and began walking briskly to the elevator.

Riwin raised an eyebrow. “I’m old Alpha blood, too, remember?”

Evan boarded the elevator, her back still turned to Riwin. “And good at your old job, as I also recall,” Evan said over her shoulder. “But you weren’t that psycho,” she added as the elevator doors slid silently closed.

Riwin shrugged in acceptance as he keyed the door open.

“Hey girl,” he said to Shizune, who was seated at what looked like a police interrogation table. The suit she now wore was an echo of Riwin’s, the dark tones somehow effusing both and security and danger all at once. Seeing the former commander of the infamous Alpha Company in the Turk suit was surreal, Riwin thought, and it was made even more so by the fact that underneath the crimson facemask that Shizune was most known for, she actually had a real face–one that was easy on the eyes, to boot. The new suit was also an unusual thing for her to be wearing, but it somehow fit. More prominent than her suit, however, was the perpetual scowl Shizune wore. Yeah, that’s Alpha, alright, Riwin thought.

“Don’t you ‘Hey-girl’ me.” Shizune spat.

Riwin put his hands up as if to assume no guilt. “Whoa, no need to get all snappy, I just want to talk. Let’s get out of here for a bit though? I hate talking in places with a shitty view,” Riwin said, trying to subdue the smile he knew was already beginning to form on his face.

“How about it?”

\ \ \

WAKEISEIJAKU TEA HOUSE & CAFE

DISC 03 - JULY 2015

“No,” Shizune said, flatly.

“Well, ok, wait, hold on,” Riwin said in rapid succession. He had put his hands up again as a half-apologetic gesture. “You didn’t even hear me out,” Riwin said, jokingly hurt.

“I heard you just fine,” Shizune said. “You asked if we could reunite the unit.”

“Yeah, and then we cou-”

“And I’m saying that that’s not going to happen,” Shizune interrupted.

“What? You’d rather keep playing waitress here in the, the… the valley of wind?” Riwin asked mockingly, gesturing absurdly to the curtains gently swaying beside him.

Shizune’s expressionless facade faltered for a fraction of a moment, the twitch of an eyebrow all the evidence Riwin needed to continue his advance.

Shizune began, “Boss’ Zero Protocol dictates that-”

“-after exile and successful egress,” Riwin interrupted, in the bored voice of an automaton, “We’re not to have contact with each other under any circumstances.”

Riwin stopped smiling and fixed Shizune with an earnest gaze. “And yet, here I am, asking for help from an old comrade.”

The silence of the next moment was interrupted only by the sound of a foghorn blaring in the far distance, and the sound of trees rustling in the Wutaian summer wind. Shizune lowered her gun, but all of the seriousness of the past few minutes remained in her eyes.

“We paint a larger target on all our backs by grouping together,” Shizune said robotically as if to re-explain the situation to someone she knew for a fact understood as well as she did that this proposition was beyond perilous.

“Just hear me out.”

Shizune shifted her gaze to the open window. “No.”

“Come on, Shiz!” Riwin said louder than he intended to. “Don’t make me pull rank on you, my former padawan.”

Shizune’s eye’s darted back to Riwin in that moment, a look of irritated confusion marked upon them.

“What?” Shizune said.

Riwin took a mental step back.

“PA-DA-WAN,” Riwin said again, over-enunciating the strange word. “Isn’t that the Wutaian word for ‘student’ or ‘protege’?”

“No.”

“Well, that’s what I meant, OK!?” Riwin shouted.

Shizune made a strange noise that sounded like a cross between a cough and a snort. She holstered her gun, pulled the chair out opposite Riwin, and sat down, hands balled up into fists but placed on her lap.

“You’re hopeless,” Shizune said. “I forgot that about you.”

Riwin smiled, shrugging in acknowledgement.

“You look so weird being all prim and proper like a real Wutaian lady,” Riwin said like a joking indictment.

“You look like shit,” Shizune countered. “Besides, you couldn’t even pull rank on me if you tried.”

“Fine,” Riwin said, “But you still owe me.”

“For what?” Shizune said.

Riwin raised an admonishing finger and looked Shizune in the eyes.

“Operation: Red Shadow.”

\ \ \

OPERATION: RED SHADOW

SHINRA TOWER, MIDGAR

DISC 01 - AUGUST 2005

Evan’s face was lit by the sterile, pale-green glow of the security monitors, her expression all business. An array of 9 monitors was arranged in a square in front of her, each monitor displaying a different view of the Shinra Tower Lobby. Evan was seated at an instrument panel in front of the monitors. With her arms folded in front of her, she tapped her left elbow with her right index finger in perfect syncopation with the clock’s second hand. A moment later, the door in the back of the room slid open swiftly with the iron-slam of a heavy lock and the hiss of auto-hydraulics, flooding the room with momentary light. Valerick entered the surveillance center, ducking into the doorway and standing again to his full height once inside. The door slid closed behind him and he took up position to Evan’s right, folding his hands behind his back. Evan’s blonde hair took on an ethereal glow as it slightly reflected the light coming from the security monitors, and Valerick’s violet eyes looked like the white pupils of a reverse color image when reflecting that same light. The buzz and click of the MP channel radio back chatter punctuated the silence between them.

“Koucha’s devised some kind of variant on the typical disguise test,” Evan said.

Valerick raised an eyebrow. “Oh? What sort of mess has he tried to pass off as an operational mission?”

“So apparently,” Evan began, “Shizune is supposed to acquire an official Midgar City I.D. from Shinra Prime itself, tower lobby, without getting recognized, which will be a slight pain in the ass, because today will be crawling with Shinra Paramilitary Corps High Command who are there to inspect Alpha Company.”

A smile slowly crept across Valerick’s thin lips like a chasm forming over hell. “Alpha Company Commander Chanceton Vega’ll be there, no doubt.”

“Right,” Evan said, “as will Lt. Colonel Langley and Major Oris of Special Forces.”

“Riwin came up with this?” Valerick asked incredulously.

“Yup,” Evan said. “That boy can surprise sometimes, you know.”

“All of Shizune’s favorite people in one room. And her former company, all of whom idolize her. And she’s supposed to maintain cover? Alright boy, I’ll give you some credit on this one,” Valerick rumbled.

“It gets better,” Evan said. “She’s supposed to get the I.D. from Captain Vega himself.”

Valerick chuckled, the sound like bones grinding.

“Riwin Koucha, you are a motherfucker,” Valerick said with pride.

Valerick looked at the clock on the opposite wall. “We’re at just over T-minus 60 seconds.”

“Very well,” Evan said. “Let’s see if she can become the butterfly we all know she can be.”

“She’s too rigid for this,” Valerick said with some finality to it. “She can’t pull this cover off, it’s too volatile for what she’s shown us. She should have chosen an alias that was easier to manage. Less loose ends.”

“Hmph,” Evan said. “She might surprise us yet. Besides, I have what, 1000 gil riding on her success.”

“No offense, Boss, but you’re losing that bet. I’m eating 1st class, black market Zolom tonight.”

“You’d share that with me, anyway,” Evan said.

Valerick raised his eyebrows in concession. “Fair enough.”

Some movement on the outer lobby cam made both of the Turks straighten up.

“Alright,” Evan said with some relish. “Let’s see if she can act. I know Riwin is playing his old Alpha self, but Shizune is posing as the civilian she made up…whatsername…” Evan trailed off, lost in thought.

Valerick produced a small tablet device and began finger-scrolling rapidly.

“Monica Kim,” Valerick answered.

\ \ \

“WOW, LOOK AT THAT!” Monica exclaimed as she ran gracelessly over to the opposite desk. Her voice was that of a vacant-minded debutante with all the grace of a broken refrigerator compressor, and she dressed the part, too. Monica wore a black lacy thing that looked like the second-hand wedding dress of a rock star wife from the wrong decade. Clad in thigh-high stockings and knee-high black leather boots, Monica effused a confused shade of sexy. To top it all off, she wore an outlandishly large witch hat, the point of which drooped lazily behind her.

As she gazed around the Shinra Tower Lobby, oo-ing and ah-ing at everything, her smile came across as genuinely curious. Her eyes, wide for a Wutaian (or part-Wutaian, according to Monica’s file), were a light shade of brown. As if to spite the classic beauty of her face at large, a jagged scar cut a path downwards on Monica’s right eye. Though it was awfully out of place, the scar did nothing to diminish her insane brand of non-sequitur charm. Or so Shizune had thought when she designed and proposed this cover disguise. Monica marveled aloud at everything in the Shinra lobby, her head swiveling this way and that, making her sombrero-sized witch hat flop back and forth.

Despite the fact that Monica seemed to be deeply interested in everything around her, she herself had become the center of attention for a very different audience.

Assembled opposite of Monica, facing outwards towards the front of the lobby in parade dress and in perfect formation was the entirety of Shinra Military Police’s finest–the infamous Alpha Company. A hundred souls in total, all helmed in the same ubiquitous tri-lens pattern helmet, the trademark of the Shinra Paramilitary. All stood at rigid attention. All were fully armed. All were crimson clad.

At the head of the company formation was a beast of a man. At 8′ 8″ and approximately 500 pounds, Alpha Company Commanding Officer, Captain Chanceton “CJ” Vega was a cyclopean mountain of smoldering menace, clad in wrought-iron armor plating which, while inspired by the same fundamental design as the rest of the MP corps, was obviously tailored to this behemoth and furthermore sported stylized overlapping plating of a darker hue than the rest of the rank and file. This scalloping of his armor not only provided added protection, but also lent him the appearance of the Golem Shogun of Wutaian legend.

Captain Vega, more commonly known in the rest of Midgar as The War Beast, had an artillery cannon slung across his back as though it were a standard carbine. The long barrel of the weapon had its name, TERMINUS EST painted along its length. Given his unbelievable size, the weapon was certainly scaled correctly to Captain Vega. Secured at his right thigh in custom tactical rigging was a revolving grenade launcher which Vega had dubbed Mathilda. He was known for using this terrifying secondary weapon as a sidearm. Lastly, secured to the small of this back horizontally in a Zolom-skin sheath was his custom machete, Persuasion, the blade of which was rumored to have been fashioned from a titanium sheet that had been removed from his chest after barely surviving a carpet bombing attack during the Wutaian War. As a martial asset to Shinra, Vega was physically implacable. As a force of nature, he was destruction incarnate. As the commanding officer of Alpha Company, he was resolute.

Captain Vega fixed his single, void-black eye on the loud young woman who suddenly burst into the Shinra Tower Lobby. He growled irritation, though to those around him the sound was that of impending tectonic cataclysm.

Monica glanced at Captain Vega, making an extra effort to avoid eye contact. Seeing her former Executive Officer now clad in his full regalia as Alpha Company Commander filled her black heart with a surging pride that threatened to burst her at the seams, or at the very least make her crack a crooked smile. She had wanted to look him in his eye and invoke the Alpha Company cadence. All of which would blow her cover as airhead Monica Kim. She refocused herself on the mantra Riwin had taught her in order to re-establish mental cover.

I am Monica Kim. Stupidly-idealistic novelist. Rocket Town. Needs an I.D. today.

Vega growled again, the rumbling bass resonating through the lobby like a dragon about to wake. On any other day, he’d send her away. But for reasons beyond his paygrade, the brass wanted to do a public inspection of Alpha Company. He had guessed it was due to their atrocious public image and some leech from public relations had concocted the idea that doing these kinds of meaningless, ceremonial gestures would convince the people that Alpha Company wasn’t dangerous. Vega began to speak.

“What,” he began, his voice dark and uninviting, “do you want?”

To her credit, Shizune as Monica feigned a startled jump punctuated with a believable squeak of surprise.

“Hi Shinra man, I just want an I.D….” Monica says in a faint voice made even more frail by the empty echo of the lobby.

“Can you,” Vega began, but paused as he clenched his teeth in frustration, “come back tomorrow. Please,” he seemed to add, as if remembering what it was to be polite.

“Sir, I can do it!” a voice from the back row of Alpha Company resounded.

Vega turned immediately behind to see who had said that. Upon recognizing the soldier, he exhaled a blast of air from his nostrils in frustration.

“Koucha,” Vega said. “Hurry it up, I want this done before High Command gets here. Are we clear?”

“As a bell, sir.”

A fully-armed Alpha Company MP jogged briskly to the front of the lobby. Riwin Koucha, Turk by night and Alpha Company MP by day, was inexplicably unrecognizable. He made no outlandish changes to his face, but there was something about the whole–the way he moved, the way he gestured and spoke, the way he felt–it all contributed to Shizune not immediately recognizing this chameleon who was her Turk trainer.

“Right this way, ma’am” Riwin said to Monica as he gestured to the lobby console where a secretary usually sat.

Monica looked more and more nervous by the second, and was making strange worry wimpers as she moved closer to the console. “Just a moment!” she suddenly blurted out, now fishing through her purse for something.

“Ma’am,” Riwin began, “you won’t need anything for this process, we’ll just start wit-”

A fake plastic bat prop dangled from a conspicuous black elastic bungee affixed to Monica’s finger via a cheap plastic ring. She bobbed it up and down and the rubber wings flapped ridiculously. As she looked intently at the bat, Monica was mouthing the words “flap-flap-flap” under her breath. In a squeaky, strained voice, she exclaimed, “BAAAAT-WAAAAAYYYYNE~!”

The only sound that peppered the awkward silence of the next few moments was Monica’s steady “flap-flap-flap” mouthed sound effects.

Riwin’s eyes were wide with horror. Shizune had not informed him of this, “Bat-Wayne” at all. And so, the shock on his face was not only that of his cover identity but of his actual being.

“GET HER DONE AND OUT OF HERE!” Vega sent over the Alpha vox link to Riwin, but the fact that he was yelling in the Shinra lobby made the gesture towards discretion meaningless. Riwin winced as the ear bud he used for coms audio rang with feedback. He gave a thumbs up gesture to Vega and the rest of Alpha Company and started typing as fast as he could on the console.

An angry error noise issued from the console. Riwin typed as fast as he could again, and the same noise issued.

“Um, Captain Vega,” Riwin said gingerly, “The lobby consoles are locked out from general use. Vermillion-level only.”

The entire time, Monica was continuing her flap-flap sound effects. She looked curiously up at Riwin and, still in the squeaky bat voice, began to talk.

“I’m Bat-Wayne, and I’m here to calm Monica down because she gets nervous easily!”

To his credit, Riwin answered Bat-Wayne without missing a beat.

“Please, not right now, I-”

“And I needs me an I.D., too!” Monica said in the Bat-Wayne voice. “I was born in-”

Before either of them knew what was happening, there was a loud thud and a sudden, violent displacement of air. Monica screamed and Riwin was on the ground, sitting on his rear. Captain Vega towered over both of them, somehow having cleared the several meters between where he was standing a moment ago and the front reception console.

“Get back in formation before I throw you there!” Vega shouted at Riwin, who summarily jumped to his feet and sprinted back into line.

“As for you,” he said, glowering at Monica, “we don’t have time for this. Citizen–you will cease these antics and tell me exactly what I need to know…”

The corner’s of Monica’s mouth turn downward so sharply it looks as though her frown might go past the bottom of her face, if that were even possible. Monica laughed nervously and forced a smile as tears began to well up in her eyes. Out of sheer nervousness, she began to spin the plastic bat around her finger, rapidly picking up speed. By some trick of fate or function of Monica’s inherent clumsiness, the ring holding the bat flew off her finger and the rubber bat went sailing behind her further into the lobby. With a squeak, it bounced harmlessly off of the helmet of an Alpha Company Sergeant in the front row.

Monica gasped in shock and embarrassment, but attempted to cover it up by suddenly exclaiming “FLY AS HIGH AS THE SUN!”

\ \ \

WAKEISEIJAKU TEA HOUSE & CAFE

DISC 03 - JULY 2015

Riwin was making comical little flapping gestures with his fingers. “I’m Bat Wayne? Fly as high as the sun? Seriously, Shizune?”

“Fuck you. It worked,” Shizune said gently, lady-like, as if mocking her Wutaian cover now.

“You owe me for that, at least,” Riwin said, “and you know it.”

“You didn’t do anything, you just made CJ walk over there.”

“CJ” was Vega’s nickname, and Shizune was the only person he had let call him that.

“I owe you a boot out the door for good when you’re done being nostalgic. You’re going to blow my goddamn cover,” Shizune said.

“And what exactly are you supposed to be? A cheesecake lady?”

“Shut up.”

“I saw the menu,” Riwin said, knowingly. “It’s on there.”

“I said shut up.”

“And hey,” Riwin said, “I don’t mean to change the subject or anything, but WHY ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME ANYWAY?”

“I thought you were a sweeper!” Shizune said, wide-eyed

“And I thought you saw through this stupid cover,” Riwin said, gesturing with both hands to his outfit and beard.

“You straight up dropped two of my past monikers down like you were trying to be cool before the kill,” Shizune said, flatbrowed.

“I thought we were having witty banter amongst former Turks!”

“Fine, I’m sorry!” Shizune yelled back, flabbergasted.

Riwin looked out the window, the afternoon sun darkened a few shades as a large white cloud crossed its path. “Come on, don’t you like your old names? Any of ‘em?”

The two former agents sat at the table in silence. Shizune’s face bore a reluctant Mona-Lisa smile–the rumor of a distant, happy memory.

“What the hell do you think?” Shizune said flatly, but Riwin could hear the ghost of regret there, too. “But Boss’ Zero Protocol is absolute.”

“Is it?” Riwin asked.

“Do you remember nothing from that meeting?” Shizune asked seriously.

\ \ \

MIDEEL

TURK SAFHOUSE #24: POCO-POCO CANTINA BASEMENT

DISC 02 - JANUARY 2009

“No deviations, no substitutions, no excuses” Evan said, arms folded across her chest. She was standing at the end of a long onyx meeting table. The projector holoscreen behind her was populated by maps of Midgar and the surrounding areas as well as dossiers, redacted documents, and photos of random locations. Save for the light of the holoscreen, the room was pitch black. “After exile and successful egress, you are not to have contact with each other under any circumstances. This proposed Zero Protocol is absolute.”

The lights of the room came back on as soon as the holoscreen projection ended. Seated around the table were the members of Evan’s unit, Turk Cell R0-414: Valerick Goodliffe, Riwin Koucha, and Shizune Mai.

“Any questions?” Evan said.

Riwin raised his hand.

“Why are you raising your hand?” Valerick smirked.

“What?” Riwin said, “I just want to be nice.”

Valerick rolled his eyes and leaned back further in the leather office chair, making the chair groan and creak under his muscled weight.

“Go ahead,” Evan said.

“So,” Riwin began, “if like, hypothetically-speaking, ‘cause we would never have to suddenly flee Midgar, but you know, just in case–you made this protocol so we could get away safely and securely, I get that…”

There was a silence as Riwin seemed to be staring at the corner of the ceiling, lost in thought or apparently trying to phrase his next question in a way that didn’t earn him the ire of the commander.

“What is it, Koucha?” Evan said, her voice tinged with impatience.

“I mean,” Riwin began again, “it looks pretty solid, Boss. I’m just wondering where’s the 2nd Disc of this plan?”

Shizune looked obviously frustrated. “What the crap are you talking about, Riwin? That was the whole plan, there is no 2nd Disc.”

“Really though?” Riwin said, exasperated. “You mean, we don’t regroup afterwards and get revenge or anything?”

“No,” Evan said cooly. “We don’t.”

“Begging your pardon, ma’am, but why the fuck not?” Riwin said.

“We paint a larger target on all our backs by grouping together.” Evan said.

“Furthermore,” Shizune added, “without the infrastructure and logistical support of Shinra proper, we would all be doomed to a dismal success rate if we were to counterstrike.”

“Oh, come on!” Riwin exclaimed. “Val, you gotta have something to say about regrouping afterwards, right?”

Valerick scratched the back of his head and closed his eyes as he thought, a habit he only did when in the company of his fellow Turks. Shizune had observed that this was perhaps evidence that he finally trusted her, as he now did it in her presence as well.

“The Boss is right,” he said, eyes still closed.

Evan put her slender hands inside of her pockets. “Koucha,” she began, “I’m not going to order you not to pursue retribution. After Zero Protocol is enacted–if it ever comes to that–I will not be your commander any more. I won’t be anyone’s commander anymore.” Evan took a moment to look each of her Turks in the eye before continuing.

“You’ll all be free agents. Masterless. Whether you want to pursue vengeance afterwards will be your prerogative, but know that this protocol is designed to protect, not to re-muster for a counter-offensive.” Evan concluded.

“And since we are erased from the Shinra InfoNet,” Shizune said, “it will literally be as though we never existed. Our biometric data, company history, any photographic files, everything–it will all be digitally incinerated. Given our skills and their lack of resources, Shinra wouldn’t be able to find us if they tried. But the escape remains airtight so long as we do not bunch together.”

Riwin threw his hands in the air in resignation.

“Right, so like, for example, if they ever made a video game about Shinra and Midgar, then it would include everyone EXCEPT us? That’s. Fucking. Lame! Who’s gonna be the star of THAT game, I wonder? What, the new guys, Reno and Rude? They can’t even do anything. Oh, oh, how about AVALANCHE and rogue SOLDIERS!? Let’s just throw in furries while we’re at it!? I mean why the fuck not–that’s just like how it really is, right!? NO. Fucking ridiculous! I wouldn’t play that fucking game! I hate that game!”

Everyone laughed.

Valerick’s laughter was the baritone of someone who rarely ever did so.

Shizune’s laughter was honest and she even wiped tears from her eyes with the ends of her sleeves.

Evan’s laugh was like the celebration of the mischievous girl who always new what to do and when to do it.

Riwin was frowning at everyone, apparently angry that they were all laughing at his idea, but eventually he gave in to a laughter that came all too naturally to the man who was too fond of smiling.

It was the last time they had all laughed together like that.

\ \ \

WAKEISEIJAKU TEA HOUSE & CAFE

DISC 03 - JULY 2015

Riwin and Shizune sat in silence, the laughter of that memory echoing a secret pain inside that they both shared.

“I do remember,” Riwin said finally. “I remember everything. I remember it all. And that’s why I can’t give it up. Not like that. Not the way it ended.”

Riwin looked hard into Shizune’s naturally blue eyes.

“I know you feel the same way,” he said. “You pretend you don’t, but I know you do. And that makes sense, Shiz, I get that. Clinging to protocol, that’s always been a part of who you’ve been ever since I’ve known you. But just as much as I know you, you also know me. I know you understand why I am here, why I have to at least try to get you on board.”

Shizune said in silence for a long while.

I am Rei Kashiwabara.

“You’re just as conflicted about it as I am, I know it,” Riwin said. “I’ve been there. I have tried to just be the sailor named Argus Takenaka, humble and clumsy boatswain of the shipping freighter Anko Dancer. I did my mantras daily, several times in a day. But you know what happened to me at night?”

Shizune didn’t answer. She tried to keep her expression blank.

I own and maintain the cafe called ‘Wakeiseijaku.’

“I remembered all of you,” Riwin said.

I am not good at sports. I love poetry.

“And you know,” Riwin continued, “I remembered what we were all capable of. When we got together,” he said, punching a fist into his other hand, “we could change everything.”

I have never left Wutai.

Riwin and Shizune sat in silence a while longer while the wind trickled in gently from the window. Just as Shizune was about to say something, Riwin snatched his grey sailors cap up from the table and stood promptly.

“Hey girl,” he said, reaching into his left breast pocket and producing two photographs. He slid both of them across the table, face down.

“Here,” Riwin said with a smile.

Shizune gingerly flipped both photos over.

One of the photos was a photo of Unit R0-414. They were all seated at the bar and everyone had their heads turned at an angle to the camera. Everyone except Shizune was smiling, and seeing this now ironically made Shizune smile. The other photo was much older. It was faded, and looked to have been a re-colorized black and white image. The photo was of a young Wutaian woman in traditional kimono. She wore a sad expression. Shizune’s gaze fixed on the woman’s face.

She looked exactly like her.

“So, about these,” Riwin said, “I’m lending you that group photo–that one is my personal photo, and I’m coming back to reclaim that when the Anko Dancer is back in Banshu port next month, ok?”

Shizune nodded blankly, still staring at her doppelganger in the older photo.

“As for that one,” Riwin said, pointing at the photo of the Wutaian woman, “That is something I lifted from the Cap’n’s quarters. See, he likes poetry like you do. And this woman, her name is Yae Nagase.”

Riwin pointed at the poem above the door.

“Cap’n’s a big fan of this poet. He knows all about her. She was from here, in Banshu you know? And she was married to a famous blacksmith, Junichiro Nagase, who if I’m not mistaken has a shrine named after him not too far from this shop. See, here’s the thing, Cap’n said that Yae had died while giving birth to twins about 30 to 40 years ago.”

Riwin leaned in closer.

“From what I recall, you’re about in your mid thirties. You look just like her. And you’re adopted, right? You’re obviously Wutaian by ethnicity.”

Despite herself, tears began to well up in Shizune’s eyes. No! she thought to herself, this is flimsy evidence, don’t just believe this…

“Look,” Riwin said, straightening up to leave again, “I know you said you don’t want to get the group together again, and I can respect your decision. But for now, just think about it. And as for that photo of the poet, please keep that. It’s for you, from me. I’ll be back in town in a month, and I’ll come back to see you. Hopefully you’ll still be here at this wonderful place. If you still want to be cheesecake lady in the valley of wind, I won’t fight you on that. But if you want to get back to being who you were meant to be–the greatest scientific mind and secret agent on the planet–then let’s fucking do this,” Riwin concluded with a firm nod.

Riwin reached the door, opened it, and stepped out into the Wutaian sun. He fixed his hat over his scruffy hair and turned to look over his shoulder. Shizune was still seated at the table, staring at the photo of the young woman.

“I’ll see you in a month, Shizune.”

And with that, he closed the door.

And then Shizune really cried.

つづく

To be continued in File 03 – Shrine of the Blacksmith

ENDING (Shizune’s Reflection Theme): 「街の記憶」(“Memories of the City”) from the Persona 3 Soundtrack