"OK Crimson, it looks like we've got ourselves a job."
"Hold on a minute here, Op." Crimson replied as she leaned on the table between them. "When you say you've got us a job, are you talking about scanning tins of baked beans at a supermarket checkout or another fun afternoon hacking into other peoples laptops?"
"Or possibly..." Continued Crimson. "Are we talking about a death defying high speed chase through the centre of the city, with a bunch of generic henchmen shooting at us from all sides and somehow failing to hit even once, while an easily licensable pop song from the nineties blasts over the stereo?"
"Firstly, don't call me Op, because you know I hate that." Said the other girl. "Secondly, crazy ass action scenes like that only ever happen in movies."
"Hmm...?"
"What." She made it a statement, not a question.
"You're a terrible liar, you know that right, Op?" Crimson looked at her over the top of her glasses, the shallow lenses set in red underframes winking at her.
"Seriously, don't call me Op. My name is Ophelia, for crying out loud." She replied, her voice low both in pitch and volume.
"Sure thing, Op."
Ophelia scowled, her skin was an almost icy shade of white, while her grimy black hair was cut short but otherwise unkept. On her right lower lip she had a silver stud piercing, with its matching twin on the lip above it.
"Why do I put up with you, Crimson?"
"Because if you didn't we'd both be lonely and have no friends, instead of us being able to be lonely and have almost no friends together." Crimson pointed out.
"Well yeah, I mean apart from that." The corners of her mouth twitched slightly in a certain way, which coming from Ophelia was about as close to a smile as she ever got.
The bar itself was almost empty, the narrow windows gently misting up against the cold rain outside at this late hour. Fitting weather perhaps for the back streets of a concrete abyss lurking beneath the vibrant heart of Tokyo. On the surface Ikebukuro was a facade of quirky anime cafes and niche stores, but for a certain type of clientele the main selling point of this particular bar was how it took pains not to draw attention to itself. At least on the inside it was comfortable, warm, and offered some seclusion in the booth where they were seated.
The two girls were both speaking in english, but at times Ophelia would stop mid-sentence and wave a hand vaguely for a moment before remembering the word and carrying on as though nothing had happened. It was only her second language, after all.
Ophelia had grown up in Japan, her mother a native and her father from england. She'd fallen out of practice in english for a number of years, yet still liked to think of herself as fluent in both. It was yet another thing that had led to her becoming isolated in the past, it was part of her. If anyone had ever asked her which was better, England and Japan could fight each other to the death over who drank their tea in the most polite way as far as she cared.
And somehow, she had ended up here sitting opposite from a somewhat irksome and sarcastic student who'd come to this city from Oregon, in North America, and was probably the closest thing to a true friend that Ophelia had.
"You're always asking me this stuff, I've got a question for you, Crimson."
"Sure, what is it?"
"Have you ever wanted to go into space?"
"You mean like as an astronaut or as a tourist? Because I've heard that's gonna be a thing, right. Pay like a million dollars for a seat on a big rocket plane that takes you up above the actual atmosphere for a bit."
"If you barely leave earth for more than half an hour that isn't really going into space at all, it'd be more like a tour bus."
"And I bet you'd have people taking pictures constantly."
"Yeah...so I guess what I meant was have you ever wanted to go into a deeper space, somewhere far away from this rotten world?" Ophelia asked her again. "At all?"
"Well...being an astronauts' the sorta thing that only nerds would do."
"Coming from you? didn't you say when you first started watching Moon Ranger when you were six years old?"
"Well yeah, but..."
"And you secretly collect Manga."
"Well, yeah...but..."
"And the scholarship you received to study abroad here in Tokyo was because you won a national poetry competition."
"It was only a statewide one, some rich person giving away some kind of grant or other, but I certainly don't recall telling you about that!"
"Melty told me."
"Damn that girl." This time it was Crimson's turn to scowl as she clenched her fist and pounded it softy against the table, the tiny metal skulls on her bracelet clattered in symphony.
"I hope Melty gets here soon, I'm starving." Crimson complained. "Or at least I'm assuming that's what we're waiting for here."
"Well, I'd rather not explain it all twice unless I have to."
"Although even if she had gotten here by now, would we even understand a word of it anyway?" Muttered Crimson.
"I like Melty, though." Ophelia pointed out mildly. "She doesn't grumble and complain all the time like a certain blonde bitch sat opposite from me."
Blonde at its roots, yet dyed halfway black, Crimson's hair seemed to flow down her shoulders in a carefully random polished way which probably took her hours to get it right.
Ophelia's hair on the other hand was the kind of genuine mess you achieved when you woke up disheveled and just stayed that way out of sheer exasperation with the entire universe and your place in it.
Cryptic, that's what Ophelia always was from Crimson's point of view. Her studies in advanced Ophelia-watching had made her absolutely certain of two things:
One, Ophelia spoke so little about herself and made so many things into a hidden mystery or an enigma that she probably enjoyed acting like she had some weird dark mysterious secret. And Two, that Ophelia absolutely did have some kind of big dark mysterious secret.
Beyond, you know, like hacking computers and breaking into buildings and whatnot because clearly that's ordinary...?
As per usual, Ophelia was wearing her long black coat. The closest comparison to it was leather, but unlike leather the dusty matt-black material it was made from didn't shine, squeak, or even crack along the edges.
Crimson also knew, even if Ophelia didn't, that the amount of skin Ophelia allowed to be visible at any time was a surprisingly good indicator of how comfortable she felt right then. Tonight for instance, in their own private corner of the bar, the front of her coat was open enough to reveal a faded grey shirt with USAirForce stamped on the front in peeling white letters.
From Ophelia's perspective, Crimson seemed determined to walk the fine line between acting like the tough girl all the time and not actually being a complete asshole. To her it often seemed that a lot of others didn't also make this assumption, and thought Crimson was merely trying to look tough without actually being the fearless stubborn hellcat that she really was.
Crimson was wearing a dark red hoodie which was made to look like it was covered in bloody stains, and the same choker she'd had on when the two of them first met. Today she'd also gone for ripped tights, boots with rows of tiny spikes, and her most signiature irregular skirt. And even then it wasn't meekly irregular, but appeared to be pursuing mass garment combination to the point where not even the maddest doctor created by Mary Shelley could have enhanced it.
Skulls. Crimson liked skulls, Ophelia had noticed, even if it made her look like she was overcompensating the tough girl act. Not for the first time, Ophelia wondered if Crimson was more of a weeb than she let on.
Catching the gaze of her friend, Ophelia cocked her head and pulled back her hair to give Crimson a better look at the silver piercings on her right ear.
"I actually find it quite hard to believe that you haven't even had your ears pierced, Cecelia." She said. "I think it'd suit you quite well."
Crimson gave her a pointed look. "Maybe it would, maybe not, but could you not call me that again?"
Folding her arms on the table, the blood red hoodie brushed over a patch of cold coffee on the darkly varnished wood surface.
"Our names are almost identical, and yet I like mine and you hate yours. It's like some kind of bad joke." Ophelia said dryly.
"Yeah, well. I'll stick with Crimson, if it's all the same to you." She replied. "Unless you're planning on giving my nickname its own nickname now?"
"I wasn't intending to. But I could always start calling you Red Dragon, like how Melty sometimes does."
"Start doing that and you're dead."
"Really?" Ophelia laughed sceptically. "Crimson, I don't think you could even land a hit on me if you tried."
"Funny thing, though." Said Crimson in an inquisitive tone of voice. "As I was leaving college today I couldn't help overhearing a conversation between the deputy head and one of the lecturers."
"Oh, really?"
"Well obviously, I didn't want to listen in, but it sounded like they'd had some kind of break in in the administration building."
"Really, what did they steal?"
"Did I say they stole anything?" Crimson replied innocently. "Because apparently they weren't entirely sure if there actually had been a break in, because nothing appeared to have gone missing."
"Hmm. That is strange, yes." Ophelia smirked, resting her chin on her hand as she leaned against the table. "Maybe it was a prank, by one of those pesky foreign exchange students I've been hearing so much about lately."
Crimson grimaced. "I've been here almost ten months, but it still feels weird to be called Foreign like that. Especially in English. But you know, that wasn't the only weird thing to happen today."
"Oh? A mysterious break in sounds pretty serious to me, what else could have happened today that would top that?"
"Well, it's the weirdest thing." Crimson replied menacingly. "As part of our course we were supposed to have a weekend trip to stay at a traditional Japanese hot spring, but according to our tutor there's been a slight issue with some miss-booking. He was very apologetic about it, even though none of us were seriously expecting Kyoto, but surely we could have imagined somewhere like Kusatsu, Yufuin, or maybe even Hakone Onsen, right? Nobody in our class has ever even heard of Thessaloniki before."
Ophelia returned her stare impassively and shrugged. "Crimson, for all that I am half-Japanese as well as half-English you can't seriously be expecting me to know the name of every single little town, can you? Alright, the majority of my life has been spent living here, but that doesn't mean I know anything about this place you've just mentioned."
"Well it's the weirdest thing." Crimson continued brightly. "None of us had ever heard of it, so I looked it up. And do you know what, it isn't even in Japan. It's a place which happens to be in an entirely different country, called Greece. And if that wasn't enough, because the whole thing was booked at such short notice, including the plane tickets, apparently we can't get any of it refunded or even cancelled...Is there anything you'd like to tell me?"
"You think I'm somehow involved?"
"I was almost tempted to break into the admin building myself just to see if the list of people who were still going on this trip had your name on it."
Silently, Ophelia reached into a hidden pocket in her coat and pulled out an office stapler which she delicately set down in the middle of the table between them. It was a cheap one that you could get anywhere, and had clearly been well used. On one side it had a college logo sticker on it, and on the other was a printed label which read 'DO NOT REMOVE FROM FLOOR 4.'
"If you do happen to break in to the admin building..." Ophelia spoke quietly. "Could you put this back please? And also put my name on the list of people who are still going on this trip-"
Crimson burst out laughing before she could finish, and Ophelia couldn't help joining her in it as her own iron composure slipped.
Their laughter was enough for some of the other clientele to glance their way, disturbed by the bright ripple in the dry air. So much so that the barman himself looked over at them with a gaze that seemed intent to skewer, causing the two girls to quickly subside and verbally retreat.
"He scares me somewhat." Crimson whispered over the table.
"That's his job, idiot." Ophelia grinned. "And he's good at it."
Crimson's eyes were a mottled shade which could have been Hazel or amber, while Ophelia's eyes were a shade of almost violent electric blue. For a brief moment the eyes of the two girls made contact with each other.
"D'you remember what you said that time we first met?" Ophelia asked her "You said God looked upon Eve and saw she was the perfect woman, and thus he made her pregnant. I didn't want God to make me pregnant, so I decided to not be his type."
"That sounds familiar, it's the kind of shit I usually say." Crimson agreed. "How many months ago was that? It feels like I've always known you...but If this job you mentioned is gonna be that kind of job, how much shit are we going to go through this time?"
"You don't have to come if you don't want to." Ophelia shrugged. "Maybe I just wanted a nice weekend trip to the Greek town of Thessaloniki? It's not my fault if something that might be valuable goes missing while I'm there."
"You wouldn't keep me out of it for the world." Replied Crimson flatly.
An electronic buzz sounded from somewhere below the table, Crimson pulled out her phone and stared at the message. "It's from Melty," she said. "She says that whilst on route to our location she was assailed by a demon of style and sharp suit who spoke rapidly at her in a heathen tongue. Much distressed she absconded, her words not mine, to the realm of the dragon king emporer after casting a spell of...yeah, I think she's being pursued by a creep. Guess we're going to have to go help her."
Ophelia was already standing up and pulling her coat around her. "I think she might be talking about the chinese takeaway two streets from here, Provided its crowded she could easily hide there for an hour."
"This is Melty we're talking about here." said Crimson pointedly. "She's blown her cover the moment she opens her mouth in there."
"...you're not wrong, it is a takeaway so sooner or later she'll have to order something or be told to get out." Ophelia admitted.
Crimson laughed ironically in response as the two of them left the bar, the door swinging shut behind them. Mercifully it had practically ceased raining.
Breaking into a run the two girls hurried across a crosswalk onto the other side of the road just before it changed red. From there it was along the street and under a bypass before going through a halogen lit concrete tunnel which stank of piss. Emerging onto another busy road they dodged a circle of raucous drunks and waded against the flow of people. From somewhere near an illuminated yellow sign bearing a dragon came a high pitched vocal shriek and the sound of a commotion.
"Is that her, d'you think?" asked Ophelia.
"If you need to ask, it's her." replied Crimson flatly, pushing forward relentlessly.
Melty Ashengard, which was not her birth name, was in fact Irish by origin. She subscribed to the fashion known as Gothic Lolita, and spoke in clear high pitch tones with a sweet accent like the gentle melody of a celtic flute. She was using her voice to great effect and volume as she objected to a man in a well trimmed suit who was attempting to pull her by the hand across the pavement to a waiting vehicle. He wore an ID badge on a lanyard around his neck, and was apparantly trying to explain that his company had been very worried about her after she had disappeared...and he was trying to explain all this in Japanese.
"Shit, I knew the repercussions from the Idol job would catch up with us eventually." Muttered Ophelia under her breath. "I bet he's a producer."
Ophelia hesitated, she would have rushed in at once if Melty had been in more present or immediate danger. But people were staring and making a scene would only make things even more complicated.
Crimson on the other hand had no such inhibitions and immediately strode up to and started belating the man.
"If she says she doesn't want to go with you, then stop trying to force her! You creep!" Snarled Crimson angrily, giving him a sharp look and blocking his path to the vehicle. "There are plenty of other dates out there, you should choose someone else."
Ophelia often enjoyed teasing Crimson by saying that Americans had no finesse, and were more at home with brute force and ignorance than with words, but she would have to admit that when it came to picking an argument an American would win hands down.
Regretably Crimson had neglected the fact that she was in Ikebukuro, not her home soil, and had started haranguing the man in english. Failing to get an imminant response to her pleasing she gave him a shove, visibly adding to his distress and resulting in a stream of garbled japanese as the bewildered man tried to make sense of what was going on. Crimson didn't let up as she dropped into gutter language, a mixture of words from both tongues rammed together crudely.
Still, Ophelia mused as she carefully navigated the back of the crowd to remain unobserved, It was probably more coherant than Melty's way of speaking. Melty was obsessed with J-pop and had tried to learn the language from it, the result was laughable. For a native speaker like Ophelia, to listen to Melty's attempts at the language was either cure or cause for sheer melancholy. She sounded like she was singing every sentence she tried to pronounce, putting the wrong infliction on almost every word.
Still, this had gone on long enough. Nobody gave her any mind as she walked up behind the beleagured man and slipped a comforting arm around his shoulder to pull him aside and explain a few things.
Well...probably not all that comfortable for him given how she might have been holding a knife to his neck.
"I'm sorry about this, but I'm afraid your services are not required at this time and It might be prudent for you to leave." Ophelia whispered closely into the mans ear. "You see, my organisation has hired this young lady to appear at our nearby corporate event and I can't just sit by and let her be taken away like this."
"Are you for real right now!?" The man managed to respond, turning his head to look at her. "Just who the hell are you? What company event!?"
"I'm a representative of Gothsoft Security Systems and I'm holding my business card to your neck. Do you really think you're in any place to refuse my demands?" Ophelia replied in casual tones as she caught sight of his name badge. "Hmm, that company? Interesting. How is the work to repair your breached computer systems going? Have you managed to recover all the voids in the personal data held on your servers yet?"
The man sagged, and Ophelia felt a thrill at being right on the money, not only that but Melty had been able to pull her hand free while his attention was distracted. Like some talented improv performer Crimson had siezed the initiative and had already drawn the attention of the crowd by emphatically proposing to Melty like a Knight in shining armour to his Princess.
Fluidity was the key here, she knew. Ophelia pulled the man back a few steps and spun him around. The object she may have been holding had vanished and she took a moment to straighten the mans lapels before taking a step back.
"I'm sure you may have a lot of questions, but I think This shouldmake everything perfectly clear." she said, reaching inside her coat and handing a business card, an actual business card that is, and a red memory stick to him.
"Hold on a minute here." he said, shifting to a subtly defensive stance. "I don't know what you think you're trying to pull right now, but I've still got a job to do here and thats to take this young lady back to our agency for-"
"For what? Filling in a few personal details? Is that really so important that you have to stage a witch-hunt right across the city?" said Ophelia mockingly. "You could just send her an email or wait for her to come back to the office of her own accord, you know."
"It is that Important, or is that too difficult for you to understand!" He spat. "She represents a significant investment by our organisation. Anything could have happened to her! She might even have been scouted for another company!"
"An investment, that's all she is to you? And then what!?" Ophelia growled, starting to feel her internal rage rising. "If she doesn't want to go along with you, will you make her? If she doesn't want to appear in photo-shoots, will you push her into it? If she doesn't want to appear in nude scenes, will you force her...?"
"Hold on, I..." He took a step back, staggered by the violence of her response. "I...I never..."
"The worst, the absolute worst, that's what you are." Ophelia glared at him, her hands clenching into fists. The latent anger inside her surged against her self control, breaking free and running off its leash. "Maybe one day you should try considering the feelings of the young people who you're supposed to be looking out for, instead of thinking of and treating them as tools for your own disposal. Maybe I should have cut your neck while I had the chance, It would have left one hell of a mess but who would even care about someone like you anyway? Your boss? Don't make me laugh, I'll vomit."
Her own muscles screamed at her from inside, demanding to be let loose, but Ophelia fled. The man tried to call her back, another meaningless wail dissolving in the noisesome torrent of humanity. He shouted, but it was too late, far too late for that.
As she walked Ophelia dug her fingernails into her arms, gripping them hard until she felt pain. Too much. She knew she'd said too much again. She'd let anger off its leash and it had nearly consumed her, like it always did. Would she have lost control and physically attacked him if things had kept escalating? Ophelia shivered. Right now she felt as if she were standing upon a tenuous bridge over a roaring chasm, one small step from losing control.
-/-/-/-
What the hell had all that been about?The production manager wrinkled his brow as he tried to get his head around whatever the hell had just happened. It seemed like they were getting all kinds of maniacs on the street these days, he thought. Still, he considered, at least he had achieved his objective tonight and his superiors would be pleased. Nobody had even heard of this Meltisgard or whatever it was chick until about a month ago, when she'd suddenly appeared in a flash performance which nobody at the company seemed to even recall organising. That was a mystery in itself, but it had been around that time that the company's main servers had crashed and all hell had broken loose. He'd never seen such a huge organisational mess as when they'd been sent into such a scramble to try and pick up all the pieces. Maybe it would all be worth it if she turned out to be popular, but he'd be damned if that was going to be his problem fom now on. As soon as he got her back to the offices he would turn this brash young girl over to the admin team, and they could deal with processing her information and filing it on the new server. Hmm, maybe he could add in a suggestion that her next few weeks be filled with so much practice and rehearsal that she wouldn't even have time to sneak out like this. No doubt this girl was already due a long tedious meeting with HR as to what company loyalty truly means. Meanwhile, he would sign off and collect this month's pay packet, fee duly earned. Feeling pleased with himself, he turned around and looked at his task in hand...To the forlorn pavement where Melty Ashengard had been several minutes ago...As panic began to set in, he himself was at least blissfully unaware of the rather unpleasant meeting with the HR department he would find himself in the next morning. He was also blissfully unaware that in less than a week he would be out of his office and looking forward, of all things, to starting his new career as a traffic warden, but he would never again underestimate the impact a cell-phone video could have upon social media...
-/-/-/-
"Tch, you have got to be kidding me." Muttered Ophelia under her breath, still annoyed. "You'd think cliches were some kind of contagious disease as far as society is concerned."
She'd practically blundered straight into them.
It was a scene which seemed to have become a depressingly common occurence. The two girls cowering in the alleyway could barely have been fresh out of school, and could even have been on their way home, when a couple of guys with more muscles than brains appeared in front of them with some unappetizing and insensitive ideas of how their chosen targets might like to spend their time that evening.
Ophelia peered around the wide concrete frame of the doorway where she was lurking, mercifully it seemed she had somehow gone unnoticed. Both the young ladies were dressed like 'Gals', but neither was one of the girls she was looking for. She could just leave...But, then...however distasteful it might seem, was it really her problem right now? Her cell wasn't connecting, but her first priority really ought to be to link up with Crimson and Melty right now. It has nothing to do with her, she'd learned the streets the hard way after all, these two schoolgirls would just have to do the same...
Ophelia sighed. Taking care not to be draw attention to herself she slipped effortlessly into stealth mode, and began to stalk slowly towards her large and unappetizing prey.
She made no noise when she moved, even the tread of her footseteps going unheard, the rustle of her coat no more audible than the wind as she advanced on them.
The two men who lacked so much in subtlety towered over the girls by almost a head, and maybe twice as wide. They clearly hadn't just been hitting the gym though, their posture suggested they hit other things too. With their backs to Ophelia they were unaware of her presence, and still seemed to think they could win the girls over without getting violent.
"I know a great little bar around here..." one of them was saying. Did people still even use tired old lines like that?
He didn't see her as she crept up, but the girl he was speaking to did. Her eyes went wide, and that was enough to distract him. He actually managed to make fleeting eye contact with her...and then he fell asleep, collapsing heavily to the ground.
The other asshole spun round in shock, and then lunged towards her. His hands trying to grab her by the neck. Ophelia reeled backwards, dodging out of the way. Her hand to hand training kicked into overdrive, and she managed to grab hold of him and execute a passable flip. He cried out in shock as she used his own momentum against him. A moment later all the breath was knocked out of him as his back slammed against the ground. After that he lay still, wheezing badly.
Ophelia was also breathing heavily. The man had been fast, and had been much quicker on the uptake than she'd anticipated. Also heavy, she could only hope she hadn't overstretched herself and pulled a muscle.
In a jolt of panic she flinched as a hand touched her shoulder. Ophelia whipped round, pulling the punch only at the last second when she realised who it was.
"Whoa! What's gotten you so angsty?" Crimson backed away, palms raised.
"I...nothing." Ophelia felt her shoulders slump, she was feeling inexorably drained right now. "How...exactly?"
"Easy enough, we figured you'd probably gone the other way so we looped back round the block, and after that we just followed the sound of violence."
"Hold on...we?" Ophelia asked the solitary Crimson accusingly.
"Uh, she was with me a few moments ago..." Crimson trailed off. If she was Melty was now nowhere to be seen.
"Oh for gods sake Crimson you had one job!" And you!" Ophelia spun round, pointing an accusing finger at the two 'Gal' girls. "You pair! What the hell are you still doing here! Any sensible person would have run off by now. In fact, how the hell did those two morons even lure you this far down a dark alleyway before you questioned it!?"
But the girls didn't run off. Or look afraid. Ophelia began to realise that things may have gone badly off the script. Instead they looked at her with derision in their eyes.
"Oh, we're not going anywhere!" One of them said, and they laughed.
Other figures appeared out of the gloom, well built men and women. They took up positions blocking either end of the alley.
"You know what they say, the old tricks are the best." said one of the two Gals. "Still, the hero caught in the honey trap doesn't look anything like the one I expected."
Ophelia and Crimson closed up, and the circle began to close around them.
"Got any ideas?" Crimson whispered to Ophelia without looking round.
"Yeah, not be here." She replied. But inside Ophelia was cursing herself. Stupid! Stupid! She'd walked straight into the trap and everyone here knew it. "Try and keep them talking."
"So..." Crimson tried nonchalantly. "It would appear we are in the hands of professionals?"
The Gals' laughed again, and this time the other one spoke. "Flattery will get you nowhere darling. Some of our gang members have been awfully hurt in recent days. So we're just going to take back whats owed now."
"Hold on, wait! Wait!" Crimson reached out her arms, hands spread. "I don't know what your grudge is, but we've had nothing to do with you! OK!?"
"Unfortunately, that's just not going to fly." The laughter was gone now, ruplaced by a look of ugly menace. "One of my boys was beaten up yesterday by someone with short black hair and a grey hoodie. And now two more of my boys have just been hurt right in front of me by again someone in a hoodie with short black hair."
"My god, Sherlock. I'm practically in awe of your detective skills." Ophelia replied sarcastically. "Its not as though there's hundreds of other people out there with short dark hair. Didn't you even catch if they were a man or a woman?"
"We're right next to a public street, which means all we have to do is scream. Do you really think beating the crap out of us is a good idea?" Crimson added.
"How do I put it...?" Said the Gal, she had produced a baseball bat from somewhere. It was a disturbing shade of purple.
"We've come so far, we may as well finish the job." Said the other, checking herself in a hand mirror. "If we leave your worthless bodies somewhere around here after we've finished beating you to a pulp it'll serve as a warning to the other gangs not to mess with us or our territory."
"But by all means scream, just see who actually comes." Added in the first one. "I won't stop you, so go ahead, It'll add to the fun. I love the expression someone gives when they're backed into a corner and they've got nowhere to run, it sings to me."
Crimson was suddenly aware just how much Ophelia by her side was shaking. Her face was turned away making her expression unreadable. Just the thought that this was too much for even Ophelia to handle was making Crimson's heart hammer in her chest.
"Finish them." The Gal who'd been speaking held out a thumb, pointing down. "It's too late now, but we might have let you off if you'd begged."
At that moment all hell broke loose.
A freezing cloud of white fog blasted down the alleyway. The thick cloud blocked off all sight, but did nothing to prevent sound or fists as the circle closed in.
A tall man with a bike chain round his shoulder who'd been near the source of the eruption attempted to tackle his assailant, only to come crashing down when his shoelaces were inexplicably tied together.
Ophelia was slow to dodge the first blow that swung wildly at her. She managed to twist her head away, but it still caught her in the shoulder hard enough to send her tumbling across the floor. Another assailant broke her velocity, and Ophelia jammed her elbow into that person's face hard. It probably broke that person's nose, going by the pained howl which followed.
"OP! You there!?" Crimson yelled.
Ophelia tried for breath but couldn't speak. She caught a glimpse of Crimson's legs and tried to roll back onto her own feet, only to be tripped by something and sent sprawling to the ground as something else thudded into her painfully.
Crimson screamed as something crashed through the fog right by her. Ophelia could see she'd somehow gotten hold of the sickeningly purple baseball bat, and threw it angrily at something Ophelia couldn't see.
And then suddenly the weight on top of her was removed, and Crimson was there. Ophelia grabbed hold of her outstretched hand like a lifeline. Pulling her to her feet, Crimson towed her, coughing, to where the end of the alley might be.
Suddenly the hand she'd been holding was torn away. Crimson looked back to see a broad man with a freshly broken nose gripping Ophelia in a vise grip by her other arm. Ophelia tried to punch him, and he grabbed that arm too.
A bright red CO2 extinguisher smashed into the side of the man's head. His eyes bulged and his limbs went slack enough for Ophelia to twist away. He'd been built like a shit brickhouse, trailing blood from his face he hit the ground hard enough to make it shudder.
Melty Ashengard stepped out of the shadows with a sinister grin.
"Like the true angel of darkness, I do arrive in thy hour of need!" she announced.
"No time. Let's just get out of here." Ophelia said, grabbing both of them by their wrists and pulling them onwards. "There's a metro station nearby. A shop. Somewhere with people who don't have clubs. Melty, you are a lifesaver. I think you quite literally saved our lives there."
"It was no great matter." Gasped Melty, slightly out of breath. "The lateness of my arrival turned out to be a blessing, as upon my apprehension of your predicament I was quickly able to acquire a suitable magical artefact to assist you."
"Are you crazy! You hit someone with a fire extinguisher!" Crimson yelled at her.
"They would have done far worse to us..." Ophelia replied darkly. "How did you find an extinguisher so quickly though."
"Hee Hee Hee." Melty laughed in a sinister way, which usually made Crimson mad or even madder. "I was fortuitous to espy a cryptogram featuring the flame dragon. How fortunate I suppose that the scarlet capsule I found contained not flames but the breath of the frost dragon so that one might counter such flames they might find!"
"Op...did she just say she actually intended to set them on fire?" Crimson whispered.
"Yes...I can't say I'd blame her." Ophelia replied in between breaths as she hurried them onward. "Unless she hit us of course, then I'd be mad."
Eleven Years Earlier
Ophelia was rather annoyed to be woken up by her younger sister Alice jumping up and down on her bed, because it meant Alice was carelessly jumping up and down on her too.
"Alice! How many times do I have to tell you...!" Ophelia complained, pushing her off and trying to massage all the places where Alice had landed on her.
"Ehh, but if I didn't wake you up you'd have turned into stone." Alice pointed out breathlessly. She was still wearing her yellow nightshirt with a duck on it, and her blonde hair was a complete and utter mess.
"That doesn't mean you had to wake me up like that, you dunce!" Ophelia replied sulkily.
"But! You say that, but when the Prince had to wake the sleeping Princess he did it by giving her a kiss! But you never ever let me give you a kiss, so the Prince had no choice but to wake up the sleeping Princess by jumping up and down on her bed." Alice explained, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"I still don't see why I can't have my own room, I am Eight after all." She muttered, glancing at the ghastly orange wallpaper of their shared room.
"We're on holiday Liaa! Isn't it really fun that we get to stay in the same room together like this!" Alice twirled around in the middle of the room, arms spread wide and nightdress flying.
Ophelia sighed internally, she could never stay mad at Alice for very long, but at least it would only be for a week she'd have to stay in the same room as her. And It wasn't really her grandparents fault that they only had a small house, Ophelia knew that too.
"You seem rather happy this morning."
"Of course I am! It's my birthday again today!" Alice replied cheerfully.
"No, that was the day before yesterday." Ophelia corrected her. "We went to a park and had cake."
"But we came to england on holiday for my birthday, that means it's still my birthday now!" said Alice triumphantly.
"If you have a birthday every day does that mean you'll be an old hag by the time we go back to Japan?" Ophelia asked.
Alice stuck out her tongue. "Just you wait, I'll catch up with you in no time and then I'll be the bigger sister!"
For years their mother had been wanting to go to england to celebrate their birthdays, it was where she'd met their father all those years ago. Their father finally agreed, but he said they'd go to england for Alice's birthday in may because who wants to go to england in november, eh? Ophelia had been hurt and it showed, so her mother had hit him on the head with a roll of newspaper.
Somewhat sheepishly, her father had then asked Ophelia if there was anywhere in England she particularly wanted to go. She said she wasn't really sure, only that she didn't really want to go on a beach holiday.
Suddenly Ophelia had a bit of paper with crayon on it shoved in front of her face, jerking her from her thoughts.
"Huh, what's this?" she asked.
"Do you like it? You love it right, I drew it this morning while you were still asleep." Alice looked up at her expectantly.
"Right...er...what is it?" Ophelia stared at the paper, trying to make sense of it. Was it upside down? Back to front? Inside out?
"It's...Its us." Said Alice deflating sadly like an old balloon. "I thought you'd be pleased."
"Oh! Right! Yes, I see that now!" Lied Ophelia, forcing a manic grin even if she couldn't actually figure it out. "I...uhh, I like the orange bit..."
"Breakfast is almost ready! Girls! Get dressed and come on down." Called their mother from downstairs. A merciful interruption.
"Breakfast, Alright!" Alice brightened up at once and started heading for the door.
"That means get dressed first!" Her mother called again from downstairs, but Alice was already gone.
Left to herself Ophelia shut the door and found her red skirt and one of her favourite shirts and some socks. She took off her blue checkered pyjamas and put on the clothes she'd laid out. Then she went to the window and opened the curtains.
The window was covered in raindrops from outside. The sky was a deep grey and the trees were blowing in the wind.
Ophelia went back to her bed and looked through her bag. She took off the skirt and put on a pair of trousers instead. Then she went down to breakfast.
Breakfast that day was a dish her father said was called boiled egg and toasted soldiers, he also said it was a tradition to have it at least once a week when he was her age. There was too much butter for Ophelia's liking, but It was surprisingly satisfying to dunk the thin strips of toast into the egg, even if the yellow bit did seem kind of snotty. It was very different from her mother’s normal cooking, but then they were in England after all.
While Alice was shooed back upstairs to get dressed properly this time Ophelia stared out the kitchen window and watched the rain coming down. She was vaguely aware of her parents talking about where to go. It was with a sickening sense of dread that she heard her father say “Just look at the way it’s coming down, if it’s that wet outside we may as well go swimming.” Ophelia hated swimming. Being in the water wasn’t too bad. but getting in or getting out was always freezing. And then while you were feeling so exposed you were also there with loads of strangers. She hated being stared at, or even being surrounded by people she didn't know, it always felt like something was trying to crawl underneath her own skin.
But...if she voiced aloud that she didn’t want to go swimming she’d probably be told it was good for her and they were going swimming. Also, If Alice so much as heard the word swimming she would definitely want to go do it today.
There were a bunch of leaflets on the table though, Ophelia picked up a few at random hoping to find something she could use. The first was blue, a theme park, but this one looked way too crowded for her liking. The next one had a lot of pictures of animals on it, but Ophelia didn’t really think her parents would believe her if she said she wanted to go there somehow, even if she suddenly feigned an interest in tigers.
The rest all seemed kind of dull, and most of the words she didn’t recognise. Ophelia was just far more used to her native Kanji, the English letters writhed under her gaze and misspelt themselves under her pencil. More than once she'd overheard her homeroom teacher at school complaining about her, saying he couldn't understand how someone half English could be so bad at it.
The last leaflet in her hand was green, and seemed to have lots of pictures of different things, but more importantly none of the people in them appeared to be swimming. In one picture there were people with ribbons and bells on their clothes who appeared to be trying to hit each other with sticks, which sounded like excellent entertainment as far as Ophelia was concerned.
She glared at the English words, struggling to understand.
Right to left? No, left to right.
Right?
She concentrated.
M...
Ma...?
Maru...?
Mori...?
Mori...
Ophelia frowned. It must be close, but somehow it didn’t seem quite right. The second word had even more characters, but maybe it would make better sense if she tried to solve that one too.
D...
Don...
Doki...?
Desu...?
D...asa...ansa? Ansu?
Mori...Dansu...?
Ophelia bit her lip. Mori-Dansu? She thought, twisting a strand of hair around her finger as she did so. Was that right? It sort of sounded kind of english.
In fact she was paying so much attention that it came as quite a shock when a cool soft hand lightly touched her on the shoulder.
Ophelia jumped, caught entirely off guard. Grandfather liked to do that to her, he’d turned it into a game where he and Alice would try and sneak up on her and make her jump if they thought she wasn’t paying enough attention to what was going on.
“Sorry, Offie!” Mikoto stiffled a laugh unsuccessfully. “Didn’t mean to make you jump, just wondering what it is you got there?”
“Hey...” Ophelia said as casually as possible while holding up the leaflet. “I was wondering, what about doing this today? It seems kind of interesting.”
“It is today’s date, yes." said her Father, glancing over. "Watercress Festival? Pardon my french, but I wouldn't have thought you or Alice would have been interested in something like that, Ophelia."
“Actually, I think the Mori Dansu sounds quite Interesting.” Said Ophelia.
“The Mori-what...?" He peered at the leaflet over her shoulder. "Oh, Morris Dancing. Well, yes I suppose you have never seen it before. But It really isn't anything to get worked up about."
"You said you would listen if there was anything we wanted to do this week." Pressed Ophelia, unwilling to back down. Going for broke she added, "We can go swimming anywhere, but we can only see the More-Is Dance in England."
The adults debated it for a while, and then they agreed and after sending Alice back upstairs for a third time to get dressed (this time with her mother following after her) they put on their wet weather gear and got in the car and off they went.
They got lost, got found, and then managed to get lost again. Ophelia always ended up keeping quiet on car journeys and trying to put herself in a mental space away from her parents bickering. Even Alice went quiet in the face of it after a while. On the back seat Alice was always on the left and Ophelia was always on the right, the two girls amused themselves by drawing on the misted up windows with their fingers.
And then, apparantly, they were there. Although first they had to drive up a steep field covered in cowpats where an old man in an orange coat waved them into a line of parked cars. The engine whined like a hoover stuck on a paper clip as the little car struggled uphill and they were all bounced around by the lumps and bumps, it was much more exciting than the rest of the jourmey but Ophelia was still relieved when they finally stopped.
Mercifully the rain had stopped, but they still had to trudge all the way down the muddy field only to go through a gate and climb all the way back up the hill again. This seemed like a waste to Ophelia when they could have just cut a hole in the hedge, and climbing back up was exhausting. Alice had already given up and insisted on being carried by her father, which was slightly annoying. But not as annoying as when Alice said "You're just annoyed at not thinking of it first."
They got on a train, an old fashioned one which didn't have buttons to open the doors. Instead her father (who had had to put Alice down again now.) Reached out to a brass knob, twisted it and swung one of the doors open before giving them each a hand to get onboard. It was quite the jump to the train from the platform, and Ophelia was glad of her fathers helping hand if it meant she was less likely to fall in that gaping chasm to the tracks down below.
Inside the train everything was made of wood, well, everything except the windows and the seats that was. The old threadbare seats smelt musty and were slightly rickety, the two girls sat together and quickly found out how many strange and funny 'Gloing!' noises the seats made when you bounced up and down on them. The ancient springs made the ride uncomfortable, but also fun. Funcomfortable?
In next to no time they were getting off the train along with a large number of other people. The train had been pulled by a colossal black steam engine, and Ophelia nearly jumped out of her skin when it let off a terrific blast of noise right next to them as they were walking past. Ophelia tried to act like she wasn't scared by it, but despite her pretending with all her heart she couldn't shut out the feeling that somebody had laughed at her.
Then they were part of the crowd making its way to some kind of village centre. Not that she could see much apart from the humid and muggy crowd of people pressing in on all sides. At some point a paper cup of something called watercress soup was pressed into her clammy hands. She took a sip, the liquid burned the tip of her tongue and smelt unnappetizing. She made a vague attempt, but couldn't force herself to drink any more of it.
A group of people were carving a path through the crowd, and all the other people were backing out of their way. The newcomers wore strange ragtag outfits covered in bows, ribbons, and torn strips of blue, red, and green cloth. They wore bells on their arms and legs, and every step they took sounded like the crash of falling plates.
"There they are, Ophelia." her father pointed at them "These are the Morris dancers you were so interested in."
"They're a bit louder than I imagined." she replied. But already she could see a second group wearing bright waistcoats with colourful streamers trailing from them making their own way through the crowd. They were carrying sticks, and heading toward an open area which the crowd was packed around.
Ah, thought Ophelia as she spotted what could surely be more of them hanging around the edges, each tribe selects champions to go and do battle against their rivals for them. At some word of command a scratch band started up and both lines trotted toward each other with a strange jumping step like they had the funcomfortable springs stuck to their feet. There was a clack! as the sticks struck each other and the dancers shouted 'Ha!' before skipping backwards, spinning around, and connecting with the stick on the other side again with a clack! and a cry of 'Ha!'
Nobody got any head injuries or even got their feathered hats knocked off their heads, but it was still pretty entertaining all the same.
After that the four of them went to have a look at the market stalls, or tried to anyway. Ophelia wasn't interested at all in candles, soap, or cheese. And if that wasn't dull enough they kept having to stop and wait because one or other of her parents kept stopping and talking to people. After a while her Father took Alice off for a walk to stop her kicking at his heels. Rather than follow them or be left out in the crowd Ophelia stayed with her Mother, Mikoto, figuring that whatever she was looking at was probably less dull than doing nothing.
The table in the tent where her mother was mostly had things like pots of pens and pencils with suspiciously cheerful grinning animals on them. A table close by them was piled up high with books. Ophelia picked one up at random, opening it only to find out it was empty.
"It's a Diary, some people like to use them to write their thoughts down." Explained her Mother when she saw Ophelia's confused expression. "You can also write down your day like its a letter so that you can read it back to yourself later."
"Isn't that just like a notepad?" She asked. "And if I write it like a letter, does that mean someone else can come along and read it later?"
"No. Because nobody else can tell you what to put in it. You can put a pressed flower, or I used to write poems in mine. You've always been a quiet child, so I'm sure you must have a lot of thoughts." Mikoto smiled down at her. "A diary is just somewhere you can write them down so that only you can read them."
The diary had a tiny padlock on the side, which meant Alice wouldn't be able to get in and read it when it was locked, Ophelia could definitely see the point of that.
"It's real leather." The stallholder chipped in proudly, sensing that a deal was near. "It's probably handmade too."
Ophelia ran her hands over the smooth dark embossed surface of the cover, and gently flicked through the crisp white pages inside. In the end, she bought it. Or rather, her mother bought it for her.
"I still think I could remember it though." Ophelia said as she felt the surface of the book through the thin plastic bag.
"Maybe, but when I was your age your grandmother bought a diary for me," Mikoto replied, hugging her around the shoulders. "And I wish I could still remember what was in it! I was only looking at you and thinking how much you remind me of myself when I was young. Except of course..."
"My eyes...I know. I have my fathers eyes." Ophelia self consciously ran a hand through her hair, adjusting her fringe. She didn't have her fathers eyes, hers were much much brighter than her fathers blue eyes. But then maybe his eyes had faded from too much use. He certainly spent too much time staring at newspapers that was for sure.
It was only coincidental that her father showed up again right then with Alice in tow and complained that they had taken too much time and now didn't have much time to get back before the next train.
"We will shortly be arriving." The electronic voice cut through Ophelia's reverie like a saw across her eardrum. "Please ensure your safety belts are fastened and return your seats to the upright position as we prepare for landing."
When they'd gotten home, young Ophelia had waited a while to make sure she was out of sight of Alice before getting out her new diary again. She wasn't quite sure why she decided to hide it, but it just felt...nice, to have something which was just hers and hers alone.
"If the wings break off and the place crashes into the ground everyone dies anyway." Muttered Crimson off to Ophelia's left. "Please ensure you have your seat belt attached so that your corpse can be more easily identified."
Ophelia opened her eyes and stretched as well as she could without touching anyone else in the cramped confines of the plane. A week had passed since she'd met with Crimson at the bar in Ikebukuro, and now they were on the final leg of their journey into foreign lands.
Ophelia could feel the reassuring weight of her diary in the concealed inside pocket of her coat, and felt the shape of it through the fabric just to be sure it was there. Her lockpicks were there as well, and their presence was also comforting...albeit in a rather different way. After all, you never knew what the future would hold even you could write it down afterwards.
[Ophelize created the chat]
[Ophelize added Ayanami to the chat]
[Ophelize added Nightmare_Angel to the chat]
[Ophelize: I created a group chat for us]
[Nightmare_Angel: This is so cool! It's just what Arcane Library would do!!]
[Nightmare_Angel: And we can send cryptograms for free, like, all the time?]
[Ophelize: We can use it for other things too, so I thought it might come in handy]
[Ayanami: Yeah, sure, whatever.]
[Ayanami: Still, it sure already beats all the other group chats I'm in. You'd think people have nothing better to talk about...]
This story is a work of fiction, any similarity or likeness to any individuals, named organisations, or locations is entirely coincidental.
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