synergetic | (no subject)

(no subject)

There are only so many hours you can stare at a steering wheel and hope it'll tell you something. Drinking might lengthen the duration, but the fact remains.

What started as a pretense to not see Asuka until he was sure he was fine (and a shaky one at that) was fast becoming a long slog of a time-waster. Not that lack of productivity usually bothered him, but this was less that, more denial.

There was more fear.

Not a novel concept for his job, but definitely in the sense that he wasn't used to feeling it. Understanding it, perhaps distracting from it or mocking it, but not feeling it.

Youji sighed and hit Mamoru on his speed dial. Too much longer and Asuka would call him; better she get a busy signal.

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Almost any other caller Mamoru would have left to go to voice mail while he talked with his daughter. Lucky break for her, if only a temporary one. One glance at the caller ID as he climbed out of the backseat of the car, a quick word for her to wait in her room, a tap of a button with his phone to answer the call as he lifted it to his ear on his way inside.

"Youji-kun, what is it? I've been wondering about you."

He started to say something, but there was a brief second where it felt like he couldn't get any air in his lungs.

Another second to collect himself, and then, without preamble: "I quit."

Edited 2013-07-12 03:05 (UTC)

Quit. Mamoru stopped walking and then stopped himself from repeating it back to Youji, as he was prone to do when he'd been taken off-guard.

Forget the front entrance. Mamoru started around the house for the back door into his office. "What happened."

"Oh, what didn't happen," Youji said, making a concerted effort to affect his usual lackadaisical air. "Your pet noticed me. They changed their plans and he saw me in the midst of my efforts to compensate."

"Are you hurt? I'm sorry-- of course I accept your resignation-- should I call a doctor? Where are you now?"

"Out in the car," he said, a little firmness slipping back in. "Fine. Going to bruise terribly, but fine."

He paused to collect his thoughts, a little glad he wasn't the only one surprised by this particular turn of events. Glad in a mean way, but glad nevertheless.

"Not sure I can write it up coherently. Hence the call."

"What did he do?" He shouldn't have been this surprised, but if he were in such a position as to be half-expecting such a turn, he wouldn't have had Youji out there in the first place. A firm reminder, perhaps, that an old ex-assassin was no match for a young and current one.

Either way, for now the priority was seeing that Youji was taken care of. And, once that was established, he'd need a clearer explanation so that all other items of business could be taken care of.

"Bastard tried to strangle me," he said flatly. "Barehanded. Going to bruise like hell. Believe me, I should know."

He sighed. Didn't want to think. About this or anything else, and there was no liquor in the car, so he kept talking. "I managed to get him off me by saying we were working for the same person, and that I'd been Weiss before him. Tried to scare him away from Ran."

Youji was repeating himself. That, to Mamoru, was a signal of concern over the degree of oxygen deprivation he'd just suffered. He was complaining of lacking coherency as well. Youji's assertions of being fine, and not needing further medical attention, were thus taken with just as much salt as ever.

The addled mind made further questioning an uneasy prospect because just how well could he trust Youji to remember, fully and accurately, all that had transpired? Likely not well. But it was the best he had for now, and certainly the alert, at least, was helpful-- as was anything Youji could recall, however fragmented.

"He knows you were sent by Persia, then. That's good to know. What else do you remember?"

"Told him what usually happens to women peripherally connected to Weiss," he said flatly, "not to mention Weiss itself. He tried to use me as a rebuttal to the idea that most of them die horribly, but I shot that down, too."

Not the most useful thing he's given the boss, but. Just giving out facts seemed to calm him, seem to edge the lackadaisical tone back into his voice. He slipped out a cigarette and snapped on a lighter.

"Told him not to get involved where he wasn't sent. Alluded to having killed a few rabid cats myself."

"How did you justify Persia's orders not to associate with her?" By all rights, Persia ought to have no connection whatsoever to a politician's daughter. If Shingo was told of one... or otherwise perceived it...

"I suggested that there would be a chain reaction," he answered flatly. "Something happens to the girl, there's nothing stopping Mamoru Takatori from using his own resources the same way Persia would, which would lead to the possibility of Takatori discovering Kritiker and taking it down."

He pauses to allow Mamoru to enjoy the irony. He pauses to catch his breath.

"So I told him you'd be perfectly willing to allow a normal girl into the crossfire, but the daughter of a privileged man who's never heard the word 'no' before is strictly off limits. I thought it was brilliant, myself."

Mamoru didn't miss the irony. Perhaps later that evening he would take a moment to properly appreciate it. For the time being, focus remained on Youji's condition and information.

"Yes, that was a smart approach." The best that could be done, in any case. That he was willing to allow other girls to die by association to Weiss hit a little close to home, but there was no denying the truth of it. Besides which, a barb at his character was a small price for a workable excuse that didn't give away his identity.

"Did he say anything of cause for alarm? Anything that stands out in your mind?"

A short, helpless laugh escaped him. Mamoru probably picked up the sound of him slumping in his seat and smacking himself in the forehead.

"Honestly, my mind was just a little preoccupied... I'm still not sure how long I was without oxygen. I'll write it down if anything comes to me, but I... he seemed insistent that he could protect her, until I started going."

"All right. I want you to get to a hospital. You can tell them a kid tried to mug you on the streets and nearly strangled you. I'll cover any expenses. Is there any business you need taken care of in the meantime?"

"Tell me the nearest hospital I won't run into my wife," he muttered.

"Try to get Hinata to invite Himiko over for a little while. Whatever I tell her mother, she doesn't need to see this."

"Consider it done. Himiko-chan is welcome to stay with us for as long as needed. I'm sure Hinata will be happy to have the company. If you're still in the same area, the next closest hospital is probably Furukawabashi. Just a minute; I'll get you the address."

Mamoru walked into his office through the back door, moving swiftly to his computer to wake it up, unlock it and pull up a search window. Seconds later, he had the hospital on the map.

"2 Chome-１３−５ Minamiazabu, Minato, Tokyo 106-0047. It's about half a kilometer south from Asuka-san's hospital. Take a cab if you need to."

"Yeah, yeah," he said, soft, relying on his detective's memory for random details to hold on to that address. He eliminated the cab. Waiting.

And that was it before he snapped off the phone and turned the key in the ignition. Relying on reflex to do that, too.

He certainly had a lot to think about.

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