Chapter Text
The next several days were uneventful. Disgustingly, crushingly boring. Every day was more or less the same--patrols up and down the halls, rooftop sniper duty, more hallway patrols, check up on the family, more of those damn hallways. Sometimes, on good and exciting days, a weird banging noise would come from the basement, presumably from whatever Wakaba was researching down there.
Akira and the Bravo team did not get to go check that. The basement was for the Alpha team--exclusively Americans, all elite units, clearly sending the message stay away to anyone who might get a bit too curious. But it made everyone go on alert, which was at least a change of pace from the damn patrols.
The family wasn’t exactly interesting to socialize with, either. Wakaba was not allowed to talk about her research, and it didn’t seem like she had very much else to talk about. Sojiro was gruff and standoffish, as if the soldier’s very presence was making his life harder--which it probably was, to be fair. And Futaba...Futaba never talked. Akira found himself looking to her often, not out of lust, but out of curiosity and concern. She seemed to have two modes, sad and scared. That couldn’t be healthy for her.
But that wasn’t his responsibility, apparently. He was there to look out for the family’s physical wellbeing, not their mental states. There were other people for that. Or so he was told, anyway.
In any case, the first six days were mind-numbing. He had a feeling that Wakaba and Sojiro felt the same way. And he knew Futaba felt that way, just from her behavior. And so, Sunday came as an incredible relief for Akira.
Futaba opened her eyes slowly, whatever horrible dream she had been having thankfully slipping out of her mind as she stared up at her mother’s loving face. Wakaba was holding her shoulder tightly, and smiled a bit. “Time to wake up… we’re heading out soon.”
Futaba blinked a few times before registering what she meant by that. “...Why do I have to go with you…?”
“Because I won’t let you just hide in your bed the whole time we’re living here.” Wakaba brushed some hair out of Futaba’s eyes gently. “I know you’re scared. I’m scared too. But we need to keep living.”
Futaba considered that, biting her lip and turning her head away. “...Sorry. I shouldn’t be like this.”
Wakaba shook her head. “Don’t say that… again, I know that you’re scared, and I understand. I’m not going to give you platitudes and snappy sayings, either, because I know I hated them when I was your age. All I want to say is that… you have to push on. You really do.”
That pep talk did little to calm Futaba’s mental state, but she knew that there wasn’t going to be many ways to argue about this one, and she hated arguing with her parents. So, she just sat up in bed, silently accepting her fate.
I wonder if there’ll be anyone to miss me when I’m gone.
Wakaba smiled again. “Thank you. We’re having a small breakfast. Nothing heavy, just a couple granola bars and an apple each. That way, you’ll get the energy and you won’t need much of an appetite for it.”
Futaba just muttered and slurred her words a bit, mostly due to her drowsy state, made worse by not making any real attempt to wake herself up more. “Prob’ly a good idea…”
Wakaba squeezed her shoulder. “You’ve got this. I know you do.”
Just nod away. She won’t think you’re worse than you are that way.
Akira personally found the itinerary for this excursion to be oddly mundane for whatever esoteric research Wakaba was up to. Some kind of hardware store and a grocery store. Didn't the government provide them the same basics you could get from those stores? But then, none of the situation that Akira was in with this assignment made sense so far.
As he sat in the front net to the driver of the small, black armored car, he tapped his jacket, near the chest, feeling the concealed pistol. He was sent with Wakaba and Futaba with said driver--someone from the Alpha team he didn’t know. He was on his own outside the vehicle, which was fine--no engagement was expected, so more would just be unnecessary attention.
He was to pose as Futaba’s brother. That was believable, though probably awkward for Futaba, and definitely awkward for Akira by extension.
The car suddenly slowed to a crawl, but when Akira looked out the window, he could see neither the hardware store nor the grocery store. In front of him, on the other hand, was traffic like he had never seen, even during rush hour, at least back home.
He looked to the driver. “Any idea what all this is?”
The man actually shut off the ignition, leaning back in his chair with a look of disgust. “Oh, I know exactly what this is. Look at that.”
Akira looked to where the man had just pointed. It was a bit hard to make out from the distance they were at, but he could see a stage and podium, with some man making an impassioned speech.
Akira leaned in. “Who is that, a politician…?”
The driver raised an eyebrow. “You don’t know who that could possibly be?”
“I keep my head out of politics, far less stress that way.”
“Understandable…Masayoshi Shido, he’s running for prime minister and he’s pretty much going to win.”
Akira shrugged. “Well, you don’t know until the results come in.”
“His party’s lost exactly once since the War, he’ll win.”
He let out a sigh, leaning back again. “Well, again, I stay out of politics, so I wouldn’t know. I just do my job.”
The man shut his eyes. “And I would love to do my job, but the politics is blocking the damn road.”
Akira thought for a second, then unbuckled, looking behind to Wakaba and Futaba in the back. “Looks like this isn’t dispersing soon. Is this stuff light enough to carry?”
Wakaba shook her head. “Neither that light nor that urgent.”
“It might be that urgent. We’re on a time limit, have to keep stuff away from the safehouse short.”
Wakaba thought about this, briefly looking to notes she had written down in a pocketbook. “…We do need the radio stuff today. The rest can wait a week, I think.”
Akira tilted his head a bit. “They can’t even supply you a radio?”
“It’s important that I build it on my own. It’s custom.”
Akira looked to Futaba briefly, sensing that she was just as confused and mildly annoyed at all of these strange needs as he was—she had her arms crossed and was looking away from everyone, the universal gesture of I hate you so much, Mom. Then, he sighed and nodded. “All right, I’ll escort you to the hardware place.”
Wakaba nodded, tapping Futaba’s shoulder to get her moving out. The driver looked to Akira and gestured to his ear, indicating the earpiece. “You know the drill, anything happens and you call for backup.”
Akira nodded. “Yes, I know. I don’t think anything will happen, though, it is a hardware store.”
“You never do know these days…” The driver shut his eyes again. “You never do know.”