Disclaimer: The novel series of Suzumiya Haruhi that began with 'The Melancholy of Suzumiya Haruhi' is the creation of Nagaru Tanigawa. No disrespect is intended by the posting of this fanfiction, as I do not own the characters or settings involved. I'm merely dabbling with another set of paints. TVtropes(dot)org is part of the public domain, I think? I actually couldn't find a 'legal' section on the site!
Notes: Count the tropes! Save, collect, trade for swell prizes!
"Chapter Five: Disguises"
"A good disguise is useful for infiltration, escape, or just plain taking a day off without being recognized. Care is required in selecting your disguise, of course, and going with your natural intuition for what disguise would serve you best is not always a good idea. Chances are, people who know you have a much better idea of what would make you look like someone else than you do -- if they make a suggestion, think about it seriously."
"Cover" -- Author Unknown
After reaching Tsuruya's house, Kyon and Yuki followed the green-haired girl into her room, where a trio of cloth-wrapped bundles were waiting. "I got your sizes from Mikuru-chan, since she measured you at lunch," Tsuruya explained, as Kyon unwrapped the one she handed him.
Within was a complete uniform for a school he didn't recognize. Their own school had boys wearing parochial-style school uniforms, but the unwrapped outfit was the more classic and traditional military-themed gakuran uniform. It looked very like the one he had seen on Koizumi in that alternate world....
"What school is this from?" he asked, looking up in time to realize that Tsuruya was unabashedly stripping in front of him -- again. He quickly turned, closing the door, then decided he was best off just facing the wall and changing anyway.
"Hikami Gakuen," she answered, her voice muffled as she pulled her blouse over her head.
He couldn't resist the urge to sneak a peek at Yuki, to watch her changing, but she was merely watching him when he looked. Feeling more self-conscious than usual, he turned his eyes back to the wall and began undressing, trying not to think about it.
"They don't sound familiar," he said, hoping Yuki wasn't staring at him as he dropped his trousers and stepped into the jet-black gakuran pants. Then again, with Yuki's perceptions, she didn't need to look-- He decided he was better off trying to think about other things. "How's that written?"
Tsuruya said something else that was muffled, as he pulled his shirt and undershirt off, reaching for their replacements. A moment later, she said, "Sorries. It's written like 'top of the day', but it can also read 'above the gutter'. It's the delinquent capital of our city!"
"I did not know that," he replied, grimacing at the thick, heavy shirt with bulky metal buttons. "This is what we'll use to get into ... wherever this last holdout is?"
"Um ... yeah," she replied somewhat hesitantly. "Ugh, Kyon-kun, help me out with this stuff."
"Sure," he said, dropping the heavy shirt to the floor and staring when he turned to look around. He'd gotten his wish, and ended up with a glance of Yuki wearing nothing more visible to him than a skirt and simple white bra before she finished pulling the blouse on with mechanical precision. But his attention was taken by Tsuruya, and Yuki's eyes were riveted on the taller girl as well. Tsuruya had put her hair up into a bun, and was currently wearing the matching sailor uniform to the outfit Kyon hadn't finished putting on yet.
She had tugged the uniform's collar very loose, and rolled up the sleeves. "There's a towel by my feet," she said, holding a jar of some strange orange cream in one hand, the other hand already covered in it. "Can you tuck it into my collar? I don't want to get this on my disguise."
"Er, sure," he managed, feeling a bit embarrassed, but doing as she requested, wrapping the towel around her shoulders and then tucking it into her collar. She flashed him a bright smile in gratitude, and then began slathering the orange cream across her exposed skin.
"Nn.... I'll need some help around my eyes and on my face," she added, grimacing. "Nagato-chi, can you help me out, too?"
"W...what exactly are you doing?" Kyon finally asked, spotting a hand-mirror in the pile of discarded clothing and accessories by Tsuruya's feet, and holding it up for her. "Are you trying to look like a ganguro girl?" He shuddered at the idea of Tsuruya in that imagery. Fake tan, huge white circles around her eyes, bleached blonde hair, makeup caked on thickly.... He found it precisely as attractive as a sumo wrestler in full kabuki makeup.
She giggled at that, shaking her head. "Not that far," she protested. "And not enough times for that. I'm going for a 'kogal' look. These guys ... eh ... they know me, right?"
Yuki finished adjusting her uniform, and wordlessly took the jar of cream from Tsuruya's fingers with one hand, evening out the application of it across the rest of her face. Tsuruya closed her eyes and pursed her lips very hard, but with Yuki's precise, delicate touch, it was done almost instantly. Once the makeup ... or whatever it was ... Kyon wasn't certain and decided he didn't really need to know ... was evenly layered on, it began to fade from too-bright orange, to colors that more closely resembled a tan.
Tsuruya made a few faces, then shook her head. "I hate this stuffs," she said primly. "But it should work. Now, Kyon-kun, can you get on your knees?"
He snorted in laughter and spread his arms in a helpless shrug. "Somehow," he said, "I really expected to hear that from Haruhi, first."
She gave him a curious look before her smile emerged from the tanning solution and she chuckled, shaking her head. "I have to do your hair," she explained, wiping her hands clean on the towel around her neck.
"Oh," he said, feeling his face color as he obediently knelt before her. She plucked some gel and a comb from the mess at her feet, and he held still while she brushed something through his hair and toyed with it for what seemed to be several minutes -- long enough for his lower legs to start protesting.
"Done," she said, flashing him a grin and gesturing to the mirror he was still holding. With no small amount of trepidation, he tilted it up to see what she had done.
"Oh, wow," he managed, impressed at the ruffian staring back at him. "I look greasier than Taniguchi!"
"Interesting," Yuki agreed. His hair had been slicked back, only to break into a number of sharp-looking spikes. When he tried his normal dour expression, he found the newly stylized hair gave it a fresh aura of menace and impending violence.
Yuki turned to watch as Tsuruya finished rubbing tanning solution into her arms and legs, then removed the towel from her shoulders and rolled her sleeves down. She twirled slowly, lifting her skirt slightly. "I miss any spots?" she asked, flashing Kyon a smile.
"Ah...." He swallowed his apprehension and looked closely. "I don't see any," he said, shrugging. He grabbed the heavy shirt from the floor and put it on, debating buttoning it up at all. He eventually decided to leave it completely unbuttoned, and the shirt beneath untucked. Tsuruya gave a nod of approval, then finished applying some last minute makeup touches -- lipstick, eyeliner, and a pair of dangling clip-on earrings.
Yuki didn't say anything or change her expression, but Kyon got the distinct feeling that she felt somehow left out. He studied her for a minute, trying to think what she could do to modify her own image to be more delinquent-like, finally spotting the answer in his own original 'disguise' bundle.
It was the traditional cadet's cap to go with a uniform like his own, black cloth with a short, hard bill. As per delinquent style on males, it was supposed to have a wedge cracked clean off the bill, allowing someone to pull it low and see through the crack, hiding some of the rest of their face. This one was intact, and Kyon didn't see much point in putting a cap on over his spiked hair. He adjusted the band, and then while Yuki blinked, set it on her head.
She held perfectly still while he shifted the cap around and found the perfect angle. Low, shadowing her eyes a little bit. "Nice!" Tsuruya said encouragingly. "But be careful it doesn't tip too far back, because then you go straight into moe-mode!"
Kyon held the mirror up for Yuki, uncertain if she really needed it. To his surprise, the smaller girl seemed very interested in her reflection, studying it closely as she tipped the cap back. When it was so far back he thought it was about to fall off, Tsuruya was right. It made Yuki look waifish and innocent, almost lost. Not menacing in the slightest.
"Understood," she said, her eyes locking onto Kyon's. She held perfectly still for a moment, then put it back the way he had left it.
"Okies," Tsuruya decided, pulling a blonde wig from the pile at her feet and adjusting it to hide the bun her hair was coiled in. Much to Kyon's surprise, the large bun fit beneath the very curly and springy blonde wig. "One last step!" She snapped her fingers, and the door slid open, revealing the maid that Kyon was beginning to suspect was a ninja.
The maid wordlessly stepped into the room, producing a digital camera from one apron pocket. That cinched it, Kyon decided. Either she was a ninja, or any real ninja aspired to be as skilled as a Tsuruya family maid.
"Haru-nyan will love these," Tsuruya added with a smirk, pulling Yuki closer to Kyon, herself between the two as she gave a bright grin at the camera. Kyon couldn't help but grin himself. He might as well enjoy what he could of this madness, before going back home. Maybe if he was really lucky, his future self would tell him to stay with Tsuruya again.
Maruyama Iyouji was happy with his role in life, generally. He had a job, regular hours, and a small bit of respect. He belonged to an organization that relied on his skills, while also protecting him from things he couldn't handle on his own.
All told, his life had only improved from the day he first joined the Fujiya branch of the Sumiyoshi-rengo. He had been recruited very young, while he was debating attending high school in the first place. He'd heard that those who elected not to go to high school and enter straight into the working world called middle school 'Yakuza Finishing School', but hadn't realized how close to the truth the phrase was until he started looking for work.
A middle school education hadn't left him equipped for anything better than manual labor, and even though he was quite good with numbers, he couldn't find work anywhere without a better diploma than the one he had. Fortune smiled upon him then, and he was approached by his current boss, Fujiya Masao. Masao had brought him in from the streets and gave him simple jobs to start out, and he quickly proved his worth, moving from the 'little brother' rank of shatei to the 'accountant' rank of kaikei.
From a technical standpoint, he knew the move was a lateral transition, but he didn't mind in the least. It would be the extent of his career, but he had a job in Masao's main headquarters, and got to rub elbows with the 'big brother' ranked kyoudai. He would never be revered as an advisor, or a legal guide, and he had no chance of becoming any form of boss.... But he got to spend his days counting money and reporting where they were being shorted.
Sure, when they first started out, money was scarce, manpower was low, and the knowledge that they were operating on the edge of Yamaguchi-gumi territory was intimidating. But Masao had persevered, and Iyouji had happily persevered along with him. Slowly but surely, the Fujiya branch of the Nishinomiya area Sumiyoshi-rengo had risen in power.
And everything had gone fairly well, despite some doubtful ventures into the area of internet-based sales. Not that he was involved with those; Masao had found another kaikei who was better equipped to deal with the technical parts. That did suit Iyouji, though. If something went wrong, and the police followed the trail from the internet to their headquarters, it wouldn't have anything to do with him.
But no, the rising concern lately had been something that happened last Sunday. Masao's top two enforcers and ten kyoudai.... Not the entirety of their force, but almost all of their best fighters had been out, working on some plan that Iyouji didn't know the details of. They had encountered a lone girl and her bodyguard.
In this encounter (and Iyouji liked that word, it suggested minimal violence), the girl's bodyguard had broken one of the Fujiya enforcer's arms.
This demanded satisfaction on the part of the slighted force, naturally, and the twelve of them subdued the bodyguard (even though 'subdued' meant a trip to the hospital in this instance, Iyouji was more comfortable with that word) and had even begun articulating plans on what to do with the girl. Verbalizing them, no less, in shamed admissions to Masao when he questioned his men later. Iyouji had no practical experience with the idea, but knew the theory well enough; 'subdue' her, drug her, ship her off to someone who could find a 'use' for her, and never speak of it again.
Unsavory, but they'd already 'subdued' the bodyguard to a pulp in retaliation, so what was the sense in backing out? The problem had been that, according to the enforcers and kyoudai later, another bodyguard of the girl had shown up. And then singlehandedly proceeded to ... well, 'subdue' wasn't quite strong enough a word here. He decided that 'sternly chastise' worked reasonably. The other bodyguard had very sternly chastised a force of twelve experienced and trained fighters, even if one of the best combatants in that group did have a broken arm.
No one knew who this mysterious second bodyguard was. But they were able to piece together the identity of the first bodyguard, thanks to a few cautious questions to other locals. That was where their problems began in truth.
They hadn't found some nameless rich girl and her bodyguard in the wrong section of town at the worst possible time. They had unexpectedly run into a member of the Tsuruya branch of the Yamaguchi-gumi. Not entirely surprising, admittedly; despite Masao's foothold, Nishinomiya was generally their city.
But, no, it had gotten worse! It wasn't merely a member of the Tsuruya branch. It was a member of the Tsuruya family. This had brought rather a lot of unwelcome attention upon their group. Moreover, in the encounter (such a safe word!), the second bodyguard had made a point of guaranteeing that the girl would never again face any of them without him at her side.
That led to very uncomfortable silences in the headquarters. The group's confidence was crushed two-fold. Firstly, at the staggering horror of the one-sided encounter involving the second bodyguard, who by all accounts was fairly young -- probably a high school student. Secondly, at the realization that the Tsuruya branch of the Yamaguchi-gumi, which had ignored them for so long, was now likely to seek revenge.
As if that wasn't bad enough ... a few days after that horrible Sunday, one of their outlying branch offices had endured an 'encounter' as well! Masao had become furious at the revelation that Watanabe, the only completely un-chastised enforcer of his rank in the field, hadn't gotten the memo. He'd got the initial notice, certainly, but didn't realize that he was provoking a member of the Tsuruya family. So naturally, she and her bodyguard-from-hell had sternly chastised Watanabe and his men, consigned the computer and all records at the site to an eternal rest, and just to add insult to worse insult, chastised a non-yakuza supplier to Watanabe's operation!
Despite Watanabe's belated insistence that the second bodyguard hadn't been that much of a fighter (hard to believe, given that he still chastised Watanabe and a trio of kyoudai), worse damage had been done. Watanabe had blathered on about revenge against the Tsuruya family! And all they had for their trouble was a nickname for the bodyguard, and the fact that he wore a Kitago uniform?
Still, their woes weren't eternal. Only yesterday, they had been approached by a civilian seeking to supply them with more of the materials that had been lost at Watanabe's office.
Iyouji nodded to himself and rose from his spreadsheets, stretching his arms over his head and knuckling back a yawn. His desk was in one corner of a warehouse-like room, the rest of the space taken up with boxes of various goods, chairs, tables, personal effects, and at the moment, twenty three of the group's best fighters, split up into groups playing cards, mahjong, and dice. Masao's office was in the back, and the boss in question stepped into the room just as the accountant looked over.
That scene would be etched into Iyouji's mind forever. Just as he was trying to think of something witty to say, some clever joke to help relieve some of the stress floating around the room, the door to the pachinko parlor that served as a front opened. The 'little brother' on duty as an attendant stepped into the room, glancing around briefly, then moving to Iyouji's side.
"What is it?" Iyouji asked the man as he approached.
"Um, someone's here to see you," he said, frowning. "Well, I think it goes to you. A high school student? Says he wants to sell you some pictures? Has two of his classmates with him ... I guess they're a gang? From Hikami Gakuen."
"Show them in," Masao said, having drawn close enough to hear without Iyouji realizing it. "It pays to maintain good relationships with the local gangs. And they're not Kitago uniforms, so we should be fine."
"Got it, Boss," the underling said, scurrying off to do as he had been told.
"We still don't have the setup to get these new pictures on-line where we can sell them," Iyouji said with a frown.
Masao waved a hand dismissively. "That, we can fix. Our computer guy is coming in tonight. In any case, the positive relations are more important right now. Who knows? Some day, they could be the future of our operation right here!"
The door opened again, and a trio of stereotypical toughs walked through, following the taller underling. A boy with his hair spiked back, a ditsy bubble-gum chewing kogal behind him, and one of those small, sullen, quiet types who was probably good with unpleasant weapons, wearing a boy's uniform hat. Iyouji was immediately stricken with a strange sense of familiarity with the smaller girl. A picture he had seen recently, somewhere? Maybe he had passed her in the street?
Her eyes didn't go to him for a moment, instead moving to Masao and locking there.
"So," Masao said, crossing his arms over the chest of his suit and sizing up the trio. "You want to sell something?"
"Pictures," the boy said after a moment, scanning the room thoughtfully, his previous grin fading to a sour expression. "You buy them, right? I heard that there was some guy ... what was his name ... Watanabe? But he doesn't seem to be in business anymore."
Watanabe was recovering in a hospital, and only two of his immediate subordinates were still in good condition, escaping with just stun gun charges. "That's right," Masao said, shaking his head. "Listen, I'd like to explain something here, before you get the wrong impression of us. We are businessmen, after all. Mere thuggery and petty crimes are not our primary goal, but you know how it goes; it pays the bills, right?"
"Like, totally," the kogal agreed, snapping her bubblegum loudly.
"Anyway, what's your name?" Masao asked, squinting as he studied the boy's frame.
"Shirahama Kenichi," he answered without hesitation.
"Right. Well, Shirahama-kun," Masao said, grinning, "I'm Fujiya Masao. Even though you are in the presence of the oyabun of the Fujiya branch of the Sumiyoshi-rengo, relax a bit. I'll even let you call me 'aniki'." Iyouji blinked at that. This newcomer was already being allowed to call the head of the branch 'big brother'?
"Very kind of you," Shirahama said, raising one eyebrow. "But, I thought you were interested in buying...?"
"Of course," Masao agreed, nodding. "But you look a capable sort. Ambitious, too. It takes a strong man to keep two women, doesn't it?"
"My guy is totally cool enough to handle, like, way more than that, you know," the kogal said with a huge grin. After a moment, the silent girl nodded her agreement.
"Lucky," a few of the other men in the room grumbled, setting down their dice and cards to watch the exchange.
"Right," Masao continued, nodding. "So, this is small change in the grand scheme of things. Think of the opportunities you have! You could go much further with your abilities -- I can tell that much at a glance!" Iyouji hid a grimace. Masao was trying to recruit the newcomer. Was their branch hurting that badly for insulting the Tsuruya family? Or was Masao thinking of stringing the boy along like a patsy, throwing him to the wolves, so to speak, when the Tsuruya family actually came seeking revenge?
"You're trying to get me to join your boryokudan?" he asked, skeptical.
The other men in the room bristled at the term, and Iyouji felt himself grimacing as well. He wasn't a violent person, and didn't care for the label at all. 'Violence group'?
"Don't talk like that," Masao growled, his friendly demeanor vanishing for a moment before he recovered it, though his cheer was much diminished. "Ah, you watch too many crime dramas. We're ninkyo dantai. The Sumiyoshi-rengo is a democratic association of independent groups that all band together for survival. In this climate, with police, the NPA, and dangerous other groups like the Yamaguchi-gumi on the loose, we have to band together. Really, we're the underdogs, clinging to survival where we can."
The boy said nothing for a moment, while the kogal snapped her bubblegum again. "Okay, yeah, that's ... really great," Shirahama said, shaking his head. "No offense, but we're really just here about the pictures."
Masao scowled. "You're missing out on a great opportunity," he warned. "But, fine. What do you have?"
Shirahama pulled an envelope from his pocket. "SD cards," he answered. "Various students changing into uniforms. I heard from ... a friend that this was going on in other schools in town, right?"
"It has been," Iyouji agreed, holding a hand out for the envelope.
Shirahama didn't hand over the envelope, just waving it back and forth. "Yeah? There's this girl I'm trying to dig up some dirt on ... maybe instead of a sale, we could arrange a trade?"
"Now you're speaking my language," Masao agreed, grinning. "What school?"
"You have pictures from more than one?" Shirahama asked, raising an eyebrow.
"A few," Iyouji said, his eyes drifting to the envelope again. "But you didn't answer the question."
"Kitago," Shirahama said, nodding. "She'd be a third year. Kind of tall, really long green hair." The kogal grinned, chewing away on her bubblegum. The shorter girl's eyes slowly drifted from Masao to Iyouji. The accountant felt his blood drop in temperature several degrees from the coolness of her gaze.
"We might have something like that," Iyouji said hesitantly. "Why the interest in this girl?"
"She's like, totally the heir to the Tsuruya family," the kogal explained. "She'd be like, super mega pissed off if she found pictures of herself on the internet one day, you know?"
Masao worked his jaw for a moment, eyebrows drawing together before he turned and glared at Iyouji. "I don't do the computer stuff!" he said defensively to his boss. "You know that! I just do numbers!" Suddenly, Iyouji began to understand how the strange 'encounter' of the previous Sunday had come about. The Tsuruya heir didn't just happen to run across a group of their branch ... she had been seeking them out for the insult to her and her family!
"Let's not do that," Masao said, one eyebrow twitching. "That girl ... has a very powerful bodyguard. I don't think you'd fend him off, and.... Well. Just forget about it."
Shirahama glanced at the kogal. "Well?" he asked her.
"Just give us the pictures," she said. "All of the Kitago pictures. Then we'll let this pass."
"Just who do you think you are?" Masao growled, his patience obviously worn thin.
The kogal swept one hand to her head, pulling her thick curly blonde hair -- a wig, Iyouji realized with dismay -- off and dropping it to her side. A long fall of green hair, reaching nearly to the floor, tumbled loose as she spat her bubblegum out. "I am Tsuruya Haruka, heir to the Tsuruya family," she announced, her grin wide and malicious, one fang gleaming. She pointed at the boy, who stood in a loose, relaxed stance, dropping the envelope to the floor. "This is my bodyguard."
The dreaded bodyguard known to the Sumiyoshi-rengo only as 'Kyon' nodded, turning slightly toward the shorter girl and saying, "Try not to kill any of them."
"Understood," the girl replied.
And that was when all hell broke loose.
After finishing her arguments and glaring at the student council president, he finally relented, agreeing that Kyon's punishment would be handled by the police and his family. Ultimately, he had done a service to the school, and the students would almost certainly rebel at seeing a hero punished. Haruhi grinned in triumph. "So," she said, unable to resist a few last digs, "what does this say when you find yourself suddenly in the debt of the SOS Brigade?"
"You are more useful to the school than I had previously understood," the president growled, eyes narrowed. "But capability does not automatically equate to respect. You may think it is easier to ask for forgiveness than permission. But do not expect such behavior to be routinely overlooked."
"We'll be more subtle next time," she agreed, smirking.
The president's scowl deepened. "You can leave, now," he said, his tone acid. "I expect the police detectives will also require a copy of your 'report', and they will absolutely need the evidence. Understand, I say this out of respect for Kyon-kun, since he is not a bad sort, and I personally have no interest in helping you. However, if they are to determine his fate, it is they who must be swayed as to his 'heroic' status, not myself. In my eyes, results or not, you are a loose cannon."
"You can't have my gun or my badge," she retorted, grinning.
"If you had either, I would demand them instantly," the president snapped. "Now go; my patience wears thin."
Triumphant, she closed the laptop, shooting one last amused smirk at Emiri in the corner as she recorded the final notes of the encounter. Koizumi was right at her heels, and the pair of them found a pair of detectives in the hallway, waiting with cool gazes and otherwise passive expressions. One was a thirtyish looking man with a stocky build, and one was a slim woman in her mid twenties, both in very nice suits.
She gave her presentation to them in a private room, Koizumi at her side, answered all of their questions, and at their insistence, handed over all of the evidence, even the presentation and all copies of the pictures from the laptop. Haruhi didn't particularly see a need to keep them, herself -- they were illegal, after all. But she did worry about giving away every copy of the evidence ... what if the detectives lost them?
No way around it, though; the law was the law. Once she was done, she and Koizumi were both released with warnings that they were likely to be contacted for further questioning in the future, and she was finally able to return to class. Two periods late, Haruhi took her seat near the end of the second-to-last class of the day, realizing belatedly that Kyon was missing, and she'd have no way to make up the notes for the portions of class they had both missed.
Kunikida got respectable grades, and would probably be more than willing to lend his notes to help Kyon, but she didn't really think highly of the boy. Didn't he need to attend cram school to keep his grades at the level they were at? She had just resigned herself to asking him for help anyway when the period ended.
When the teacher left, she was mildly surprised to see Yanagimoto's desk swarmed with other students -- mostly girls, frantically trying to get her to talk about what had happened during lunch. She watched, curious, as Yanagimoto rose to her feet and slammed both hands on her desk. "Shut up!" the girl yelled, silencing the classroom.
"I don't want to talk about it, so I'll say this much," she continued, glaring at the girls surrounding her. "Anyone can make mistakes in judgment! The SOS Brigade may be full of the craziest people in this school, but even if that's true -- they are good people! And Yamane Jun was not anyone's friend! Now leave me alone, I'm not a rumormonger!"
At that, the crowd dispersed. Gathering papers from her desk, Yanagimoto stalked to Haruhi's side, not making eye-contact, and dropped them on her desk. "Notes," she said stiffly, her voice barely audible. "For Kyon."
Haruhi was taken aback. Before she could say anything, Yanagimoto's face began to turn red, and she quickly added, "Don't thank me!" before stomping back back to her own desk and sitting down with her arms crossed over her chest, glaring at nothing in particular.
Sakanaka approached Haruhi from her own seat, an obvious relieved smile on her face. "I don't know everything that happened yet," she whispered, "but I'm glad it seems to have worked out!"
"Me, too," Haruhi agreed.
Twenty four.
After the boy's warning, there was an extended moment of awkward silence before the two men who had first been stunned rose to their feet, recognizing the trio -- or at least, two of them -- from the 'encounter' at Watanabe's headquarters. "You'll pay!" the brutish one screamed, leading in with a fierce punch toward the boy's face.
He never got close; the slight girl moved suddenly, standing in front of the large man and gently rebuffing him with a palm-strike to the solar plexus. The eighty kilo man was launched through the air in a high arc, landing with a resounding crash on one of the crates lining the room. The other man was knocked down with a foot-sweep from the boy, sending him hurtling to the floor to immediately be subdued with another charge from the Tsuruya heir's stun gun. The green-haired girl began to laugh from deep in her throat.
Twenty two.
The boy's stance shifted slightly and he snapped both arms out, launching a pair of collapsible batons from his sleeves into his hands, spinning both about in circles quickly enough to make whipping noises through the air. He stood protectively before the Tsuruya heir.
The remaining men lurched into action, Masao stumbling back and heading toward his office. "You're making a mistake!" he yelled over his shoulder. "Attacking me in my own headquarters?"
There was united roar from the other men, as Iyouji threw himself beneath his desk, watching everything unfold with horror.
The small girl was an unstoppable, untouchable storm. Two large brutes leaped to tackle her; she dashed toward them, flipping in midair and axe-kicking each in the back of the head simultaneously, using the recoil from her powerfully admonishing blows to launch herself knee-first at a third man, just readying a length of chain as a weapon. Her knee chastised him in the face with a muffled crunch and a surreal explosion of red; she flipped yet again, landing behind her latest foe as all three crashed to the floor. The heiress's laugh began to grow, booming and genuinely mirthful.
Nineteen.
Five men reached the boy at the same time as he leaped back, the heiress behind him moving toward the doorway. The five of Masao's men tangled, two of them falling down and scrambling away, one of the remaining three being rebuffed with a baton cracked onto his shoulder -- hard. That man slammed to the floor, subdued, just as the heiress jabbed the enforcer in the front who had come to investigate, sending pulsing streaks of crackling electricity across his body.
Seventeen.
The smaller girl flowed around and through attacks, dodging larger well-trained combatants with casual, indifferent ease. The largest of her assailants received a double-palm strike to the abdomen. Despite the fact that he had to out-mass her by more than four times her weight, at a minimum, he was hurled lengthwise across the room, smashing through a table and continuing on to collide with another man. The top of the large man's skull impacted with another crunch into the face of the man he had struck, and both tumbled on in surreally slow motion to Iyouji's eyes, a shower of stray teeth and bright red flying outward.
Echoing, filling the entire warehouse and drowning out screams of anguish and moans of pain, the heiress's laughter made Iyouji shake and tremble, wishing for nothing more than the ability to burrow deep within the earth and hide there forever.
Fifteen.
Even as she straightened from the double-palm strike, she leaned to one side, a slashing knife just missing her. With artistic precision, she lashed out with her foot, striking the knife-wielding man on the inner thigh and causing his leg to fold at an unnatural angle as he was subdued with a gurgling scream.
After retreating nearly to the point where he collided with the heiress he was supposed to be protecting, the bodyguard suddenly sprang forward, bringing his left baton down on one man's wrist, another of those resoundingly crunching chastisements filling the room with an unholy shriek of pain as his right baton deflected a knife. He spun with the recoil of the deflection, faster than Iyouji thought was reasonable, but slower than the small girl. As he turned, he raised one foot and then brought it down on another man, subduing him with a brutal axe-kick.
Thirteen.
The boy had left himself vulnerable, and when another attacker moved to exploit the opening, the crackling discharge of another stun gun shock warned that it hadn't been an opening at all. Improbably, the Tsuruya heiress began to laugh even louder.
Twelve.
Iyouji tried to pretend that the boy was gently tucking the enforcers into naps, but the realization that the trio was handling nearly eight times their number with the same ease as a pre-school teacher taking care of a group of unruly children was not comforting. The smaller girl was liable to send her targets flying anywhere, but the boy had a dogged and steadfast tendency to subdue his opponents in one direction: down.
While she was in the center of the room, the smaller girl was surrounded, and four men tried to leap at her simultaneously. She shifted to shoulder-check the tallest of the men, and he retched behind her even as she seized his thigh and used him as a crude bludgeon against two of his fellows before flinging him bodily at the fourth.
Eight.
Another chain-wielder lashed out at the boy, his chain tangling around one of the batons. The boy released it, smashing his remaining baton across an exposed fist, disarming another enemy in return. His empty hand became a fist and he slid laterally before the heiress, turning with the motion and sternly warning another man's face with what was becoming a sickeningly familiar crunch and spray of red. The heiress held her chattering stun gun at the ready, but none of the men were willing to try passing the bodyguard to reach her, and her unnerving, terrifying laugh.
Six.
The shorter girl had a clear space around her, where none were willing to approach alone. Eyes turning to a man who glared at her from the other side of one of the tables, she kicked the tabletop suddenly, flipping it into a vertical surface, then leaping atop it. Before he could move, the surface smashed down on him, and she rode it with perfect balance, rebounding when the tangled mess beneath her reached the floor to tag another man with a flying kick.
Four.
The boy flung his baton at one of the three men still facing him, following it with a foot-sweep that downed the man. He didn't even look, just stepping over the downed man and snap-kicking a second man in the face, launching him back two meters into one of the few intact tables, sending it crashing to the floor.
The heiress moved forward, still laughing as she stooped to shock the man the boy had only knocked down.
Two.
The shorter girl caught a cudgel as it was swung at her, her right hand crushing the makeshift wooden bludgeon into splinters as her left hand chopped down on his collar, subduing her final opponent with a loud snap.
One.
The last remaining man grabbed a bottle and shattered it against the last intact table, charging the boy with a guttural roar. The boy used a spinning kick -- a roundhouse, Iyouji thought it was called -- and smashed what was left of the bottle in the man's hand, sending fragments of glass across the warehouse. The man screamed in agony and clutched his injured hand in his good one, but the boy hadn't finished. He seized the man's head in both hands and threw him down toward the floor, simultaneously raising one knee and slamming the man's face into it. There was a spray of crimson and another of those sickening crunches as the man fell to the floor, sternly chastised.
Zero.
The boy shifted his shoulders and surveyed the room, finally admitting, "That was much easier than I expected."
"I know, right?" the Tsuruya heir agreed, her laughter winding down to a chuckle. "Okies, let's get the boss, he went into the back."
"No need," Masao called, returning from his office, glaring. Iyouji stared in shock, surprised to see the man with a pair of katana over his shoulders. "You lot," he added, glaring at the men on the floor, "are pathetic! You couldn't hold the three of them for two solid minutes? Alright, let's settle this, fair, square, and for good."
The Tsuruya heir was taken aback, her amusement completely vanished. "You don't mean--"
"I do," Masao overrode her. "This blood feud has to end. I'll champion my cause, Tsuruya-san. Who champions yours?"
The taller girl hesitated. "What are your terms?" she pressed. "Only fools agree without knowing in advance."
Masao strode to the center of the room, where the only table that hadn't been knocked down still stood. He set the swords across it and glowered at the taller girl. The boy gathered his batons and collapsed them, stowing them in the sleeves of his uniform shirt, watching warily. "Alright," Masao said, his face reddening. "You've beaten the life out of all my men, you've ruined my operation in this town -- and why?"
"Because you're selling naughty pictures of me on the internet," she snapped, shooting him an angry glare of her own. "So! You didn't know who I was? Does that make things better for me? No! Why am I here?! Because this is my distinction! To make up for the facts that some stupid delinquent at my own school got lucky and then sold pictures to you! You knows how this works just as well as I do; such a slight cannot go unpunished."
"Well, why not go after him?" Masao growled plaintively. "I know what a distinction is as well as the next man, and you're getting off easy avoiding yubitsume! Any of my men who disgraced our name wouldn't be given the chance for distinction. It'd be the loss of a finger joint right then and there -- end of story."
"You call this a blood feud," the boy interjected, obviously very tense. "But none of your men are dead." He shot a questioning glance at the shorter girl as she scanned the room, then strode to his side, giving a single sharp nod. "Right. But they're dealt with. So is the cameraman who aspired to join your ranks. This doesn't have to be more serious than you make it."
Masao stared at the boy for a moment, then spat, "Shut up. You're a shatei at best; you shouldn't be speaking to an oyabun as an equal, no matter how good you are in a fight!"
"Badmouth my saiko-komon, and I'll ignore him when he says to be merciful," the Tsuruya heiress warned.
Iyouji had already had enough of a bad day. If the time for the unpleasant 'encounter' were over, he'd just as soon see that his boss didn't get himself killed for honor. "Boss," he called, crawling from beneath his desk and cowering away from the heiress and her group. "L...let's not be hasty!"
"You're speaking back to me!?" Masao cried, eyes widening. "The world is turned upside-down! What of the old ways? What of respect?"
"If you respected the old ways, you'd ask my father for permission to operate in this city," the heiress said dourly. "This is stupid. I don't want to be responsible for you thinking killing yourself will do anything but make the mercy we gave today pointless. I wants my distinction, and you want to get on with your life."
"Let's make it very simple, and say you just never work with voyeur pictures bought off high school students again," the boy suggested, eying Iyouji before turning his gaze back to Masao.
Masao grit his teeth and bristled.
The Tsuruya heiress coughed, eyes narrowed. "Let's do this," she agreed. "And then we won't have to send a message to the entire Sumiyoshi-rengo. We can stop it here at the Fujiya-branch. We can let this end before you end up cutting off a finger for yubitsume to your own boss, or worse, insist on being killed, just to put your own men in line for that fate next!"
For a moment, Iyouji was afraid that Masao would refuse. But then one of the men on the floor moaned weakly, rolling onto his back and cradling a wounded arm. It seemed that, for the moment, concern for his own men beat out the need for pride. "Very well," Masao said, his voice thick with disgust. "I'm calling a medic for my men. Iyouji ... you make sure that the Haru-tachi leaves happy." He turned and strode away, the swords still lying on the table.
"How bad is it?" the boy asked the quiet girl, glancing across the still or only slowly moving forms scattered about the room.
"Most will recover within two months," she determined without hesitation. "Seven will require an additional three months. Two will require a further additional two months beyond that."
The boy looked uncomfortable, but nodded. Iyouji didn't understand how someone so powerful could be so unaware of the damage he did, but then, that wasn't his role in the organization. Bowing very low to the green-haired girl, he said, "I am Maruyama Iyouji; I am ranked kaikei. I will do everything in my power to satisfy your demands, Tsuruya-sama."
"Good," the girl replied, crossing her arms over her chest and looking down at him imperiously.
After about ten minutes, and a quick check to verify with Yuki, Kyon was reasonably satisfied that they had gotten everything they had come for. There was the possibility of further pictures still circulating around the internet, but by that time he was more than willing to ask Haruhi to take care of it, and then allow the change through Yuki. Rather than spend ... who knew how long trying to track down every stray person with a copy of a picture of Tsuruya, or his other classmates....
Even better, the sniveling, whimpering accountant had provided an apology stating that the entire thing was a mistake on the part of his oyabun, which the bitter man had even consented to sign. After leaving the deserted pachinko parlor that served as a front, and escaping into the relatively fresher afternoon air, Tsuruya turned to him and beamed a bright smile. "Thank you, Kyon-kun!" she said, her voice earnest. "You were brilliant."
"Awesome," he answered her shakily. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to stumble to the nearest wall and throw up for a few minutes."
Her eyes widened in surprise when he unsteadily did exactly as he had suggested, retching until his stomach heaved, empty and clenching. He fumbled for his handkerchief, before realizing that he didn't have one in the 'disguise' uniform. Tsuruya handed him one wordlessly, her expression downcast.
"Sorry," he rasped, grimacing.
"We should gets out of here," she told him, pointing down the street. "There's a car waiting. Come back to my place and rest a bit? I can get you medicines, too."
"I've never done anything like that before," he managed, when not only Tsuruya, but Yuki helped him stagger away. "I guess ... I must look pretty pathetic to you, huh?"
"No," the taller girl answered, after half a block of walking. "Kyon-kun is capable, but a gentle soul. And that ... is a good thing."
"I still feel like a wuss," he mumbled, once they reached the car. Tsuruya still leaned against him once they were seated, one arm around his shoulders. Yuki sat at his other side, and much to his surprise, rested one of her small hands atop his. "S...sorry, we should be happy, right? That's it?"
"That's it," Tsuruya agreed, nodding. "But ... Kyon-kun, more than anything else we are, ninkyo dantai ranking, students who talk to eachothers at school, any of that.... Um, Kyon-kun, I want to make sure we're friends. S...sos, I am very much in your debt. If there's anythings you need, let me know, and I will do it for you."
"I think," he said hesitantly, "I might want to talk about it for a bit?"
"Okies! You said you never fought like that before? But, you fought those fellows on Sunday to save me, didn't you?"
"I haven't actually done that yet," he confessed. "I have to travel back in time and take care of it. I'm not sure I'm good enough.... T...tell me, was I as badly violent, then?"
"No," she said with reassuring confidence. "You gave them a stern talkings to. You maybe dislocated things, but you didn't break many bones, or do worse. Even though you were very mad.... Hey, is it okay for me to tell you that?"
"Maybe not," he admitted, forcing a weak smile. "So, thanks, and I'll leave it at that. Despite everything, until very recently, I'd never actually used violence against another person. But now ... ever since I.... Since.... Last Sunday, I guess, I've been getting myself into these dangerous situations."
Tsuruya shifted at his side, her head turning away as she gazed out the window thoughtfully. "Really," she said softly, "it's my faults. I got you involved, and--"
"No, no, don't even try that," he protested. "We can't.... We just had a major victory, didn't we? And what am I doing? I'm getting us all depressed and--" He took a deep breath and shrugged his shoulders free of Tsuruya, then raised his arms and put one about the taller girl, pulling her close to him. "I do not regret helping you, Tsuruya-kun. I'm just ... a little afraid of what I can do now, you know?"
And even though she had said nothing, merely watching as always, he put another arm about Yuki, pulling her close on the other side. "And Nagato, I don't regret learning what you taught me for a minute, either. It's thanks to that teaching that I was able to save Kanae-chan from Ryuguu, and help Tsuruya-kun with her distinction. Hell, the entire school owes you and Tsuruya-kun a big thanks for this!"
Something sparked deep in Yuki's eyes at that. She said nothing, but her eternally cool gaze warmed for him, and she allowed herself to be pulled close. When he relaxed his impromptu hug, neither girl moved away from him. He had come to realize that Tsuruya was simply very affectionate, probably a side-effect of her typically energetic outlook. But when he studied Yuki, she merely turned her eyes away and bowed her head slightly, pressing it into the side of his chest.
Did that mean something? He was probably better off not thinking about it, all told.
"Okies," Tsuruya said, as the car rolled through the gates to her estate. "Our clothes should be clean soon, so let's all take a bath together!"
"Yes," Yuki agreed, before Kyon could voice his own opinion on the matter.
Well, he decided, if even Yuki thought it was for the best, who was he to complain?
After a bath with Yuki and Tsuruya -- more work than he had expected, given the need to scrub Tsuruya clean of the tanning solution -- the taller girl had explained she was going to meet with her father. Kyon thought the man lived on the estate, but evidently he spent most of his time in an apartment in the city.
He had stored images in his not-quite-photographic memory of Yuki's pale skin and soft touch when her fingers had gone through his hair, adeptly scrubbing the gel out and restoring him to normality. Tsuruya's image and the feel of her washing his back wasn't likely to fade any time soon, either. Memories stored safely between a record of walking in on Mikuru while changing, and a pair of kisses with Haruhi in closed space, he felt a certain peace of mind.
It lasted long enough for him to wave reassuringly to both of the girls when Tsuruya had her driver drop him off a block from his home. He got out of the car and stretched, watching the sleek black vehicle pull away, acutely aware of Yuki's gaze following him until it was out of sight around a corner. Clinging to what little good he'd gotten out of the day, he turned his cell phone back on, raising an eyebrow when a black taxicab pulled around a different corner, stopping directly before him.
Koizumi got out of the car, smiling broadly as Kyon's voice mail indicator chirped. A moment later, his text indicator beeped. A heartbeat after that, before the esper even reached his side, the phone began to ring. Kyon saw it was from his home, presumably his mother, and put the phone in his pocket without pressing any buttons.
Mori stepped out after Koizumi, her expression doubtful. The woman held his schoolbag, offering it toward him, and he accepted it with solemn gravity. "It's a bit late," she said in a low voice, as Koizumi walked around the car, "but your protection is inside. Please be sure to use it, Sir."
He nodded, frowning slightly. He hoped it wasn't a weapon, or something his mother would find and yell at him for ... but he had time for that later. "So," he said, quickly checking to make sure no one else was in earshot, "how did things go at the school?"
"The police greatly enjoyed Suzumiya-san's presentation," Koizumi said cheerfully. "Administration has arranged for the quiet removal of all students noted as being involved in the incident, and you have escaped expulsion or suspension!"
"And ... the bad news?" he asked, turning his gaze to Mori and quirking an eyebrow higher.
She looked at him askance. "What are you talking about?" she asked. "This seems like a victory, generally speaking. Itsuki-kun even managed to convince Suzumiya-san not to come visit you today, or call your house. She's in good spirits, since everything went so well. We just came by to deliver your schoolbag."
"Well ... thank you," he said, smiling and nodding at the pair. "I appreciate that. Anything else?"
"I'm uncertain about the wisdom of bringing Tsuruya-san into the fold, so to speak, Sir," Mori finally said, looking uncomfortable. "I mean ... knowing what I do know now of your ... relationship with her...." She trailed off and shrugged. Koizumi's smile faded and he began to look worried.
Well, it didn't matter that the esper found out about Tsuruya and Kyon being members of the Yamaguchi-gumi, Kyon decided. If Tsuruya was going to be throwing her lot in with the SOS Brigade, which seemed to be the case.... "Come to think of it," he mused, "I'm not sure if Haruhi should know about that."
"I'm positive she shouldn't," Koizumi said quickly, shaking his head worriedly.
Kyon raised an eyebrow, but admitted that the other boy was probably right. "No," he finally said, frowning. "I don't think Tsuruya-kun could stay quiet about it. And Haruhi's demanding a full report. Plus, she okay-ed me working with Tsuruya-kun anyway." He nodded decisively. "Honesty is the best policy. I'll explain everything to her."
A sound that was a combination between a groan and a sigh escaped Mori's lips, and she adopted a pained expression. "W...well," Koizumi said shakily, giving a huge, obviously false smile, "we will ... entrust that responsibility to you, then."
"Naturally," Kyon agreed. "Anyway. I'm about to face my mother. You'd best clear the blast radius."
"Ah.... Well, good luck with that, Sir," Mori said, shaking her head as she climbed back into the car. Koizumi looked like he wanted to say something, but bit his tongue and followed. Kyon watched them for a minute as Arakawa moved the car down the almost completely empty street.
"Well," Kyon said, to no one in particular. He pulled his phone from his pocket as another text arrived. "Twelve new texts," he grumbled, not checking to see who they were from. "Seven new voice mails. Twelve missed calls." He put it back in his pocket and rummaged through his school bag as he strolled back to his home.
Humming to himself, he opened the door and kicked off his shoes, not at all surprised to hear his mother mid-tirade into the phone, which she slammed down as he was putting on his house-slippers. His little sister charged into the entryway, skidding to a halt on the floor and staring at him with wide, amazed eyes.
"Is the world safe?" she asked worriedly.
"For today," he answered, as his mother stomped down the hallway toward him, murder in her gaze. A small part of his mind noted her stance and visage, recording the details for use the next time he needed to menace someone for Tsuruya.
"Kyon!" the woman snarled, fists trembling at her sides. "What do you have to say for yourself!? I hope you're prepared for cram-school!"
"I got a ninety two," he answered, handing his test over to her as he walked past. "Thanks to Haruhi helping me study."
"Don't think this is over yet!" his mother yelled, glaring at the test as though expecting to see some sign of forgery. "I told you to stop acting like a delinquent! And what do you do? You dangle a student out of the window! What could possibly justify that!?"
Kyon paused, one foot on the stairs, and mulled it over. "I broke up an illegal voyeur photography ring taking advantage of the school," he said, after consideration. "Then, after that, me and two of my delinquent friends cosplayed as students of a different school and went into a pachinko parlor. Once we got inside, we convinced a low-ranking member of the Sumiyoshi-rengo to let us into the back room, and hospitalized nearly thirty members of their boryokudan. After that, we took a bath together to wash the blood off."
"Kyon's saving the world," his little sister supplied helpfully, giving a judicious nod. "Just like a sentai hero! He's doing it for Tsuru-nee-san and Haru-nee-san!"
"I don't know who this 'Tsuru' character is," Kyon's mother growled, "but I am getting very tired of your behavior! Until further notice, you are grounded. No more club meetings for you! And you are taking your sister to Hinamizawa for Golden Week -- you're going to be on the train to visit my brother Friday after school next week!"
Kyon felt his left eyebrow twitch. Okay, he told himself. Maybe he shouldn't have mouthed off to his mother. "Well," he said, shrugging, "that's about what I expected."
"We're going to Hinamizawa?" his little sister asked excitedly. "I didn't want to go unless Kyon-kun was going! But now that Kyon-kun is going, I want to go for sure!"
"Cram-school!" his mother yelled up the stairs after him when he plodded toward his room. "And you can expect to have a talk with your father tonight!"
After dropping Kyon off, the limo turned around, headed toward Yuki's apartment. It would have been faster to drop Yuki off first, but Tsuruya wanted a chance to talk with the other girl, anyway.
"Hey, Nagato-chi," she said, once Kyon was out of sight. "Do you mind if we talk about Kyon-kun a bit?"
"That is fine," Yuki replied, her eyes fixed on something outside of the window.
"Mmm. You know, I think that Haru-nyan and Kyon-kun like each other."
"Likely," Yuki agreed.
"But ... you know ... these days, I think I like Kyon-kun a lot, too." Tsuruya sighed, leaning her head against the glass of the window. "I feel a bit bad, because I know that Haru-nyan likes Kyon-kun, even if she's bad about saying it. But, do you think that Haru-nyan would share?"
"I have ... permission to borrow him," Yuki said slowly, as though uncertain. "But I require external confirmation that he has interest in me."
She smirked at the smaller girl. "Silly," she chastised Yuki. "He was trying not to be obvious, but Kyon-kun is a boy, you know. Wasn't he peeking at you in the bath?" Not, Tsuruya admitted to herself with a small amount of pride, that he didn't peek at her a bit, too. And she had managed to get a rewarding eyeful of her own, anyway.
Yuki's head tilted slightly in consideration.
"Mmm. Things may be confusing for Kyon-kun, and I hope it's not troublesome ... but he's got a big heart. I can tell he likes you a lot! I hope maybe he likes me a lot, too. I think he likes me a little, at least! Well! I think I'll try for Kyon-kun, just a little bit ... but I guess I can't be mischievous enough to upset Haru-nyan. I think you should, too! Even Mikuru-chan says she's trying!"
"I see," Yuki replied, quietly thoughtful.