Chapter Text
GOXXCGMGAETWG-EKEYEJHOYTZ/TVMIPLTRMGGIHB
INPUT:INTERCEPTED CIPHERTEXT>DECRYPT
…DECRYPTING…
…MESSAGE DECRYPTED.
DISPLAYING PLAINTEXT:
>>URGENT BROADCAST ALL CHANNELS STOP THIS IS NIGHTBIRD STOP POSITION COMPROMISED STOP LOELKEN ARMY POISED FOR NEW OFFENSIVE STOP URGE IMMEDIATE PREEMPTIVE STRIKE ON TARGET EIGHTEEN STOP FURTHER SENSITIVE INFORMATION UNSAFE TO SEND STOP WILL EXTRACT AND LIAISE WITH CONTACT IN REPUBLIC TERRITORY STOP MESSAGE REPEAT STOP URGENT BROADCAST ALL CHANNELS STOP THIS IS NIGHTBIRD STOP POSITION COMPR
END PLAINTEXT
Tooru would forever blame it on his knee.
That was a lie. If he were to blame it on his knee, then he ought really to blame it on the cause of his knee blowing out—which was the sudden appearance of a portal in the middle of the gymnasium, right in front of where he had just served a volleyball. The first sign he had was when the ball landed with a muffled whumph onto grass instead of polished wood. The second was when he opened his eyes to a window of rolling fields instead of the gym. He’d landed hard on the wooden floor, too startled to straighten his legs properly.
“Shit!” someone nearby had cried, although amid the searing pain in his leg and his accompanying scream of agony, he hadn’t especially noticed who it was.
Hands seized him and dragged him backwards, clear of any expansion. Despite the pain, all he could manage to do was stare ahead into that other world. It was sunny. The sky was blue. The grass was green. There were meadow flowers, just visible over the lip of the portal where it hung, a foot from the ground. A gentle breeze wafted through, carrying their scent. And a large ring system dominated the sky, visible even in the other world’s daylight. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
His knee burned, and he could feel tears streaming down his cheeks in response to the tissue damage which he would absolutely be petrified about in a few moments. But against all reason—against every deep-seated bias and instinct he had—the first words he found himself stuttering were:
“I should get the ball.”
Eight weeks after his encounter, Tooru found himself on the train for home, tucked up in the window seat with a newspaper which really wasn’t capturing his interest. More headlines about the war. More rumours that active conflict might flare up again at some point soon. More of the same old scare stories which had always turned out to be just that. Much more pressing was what he was going to do with himself during his self-enforced time alone.
In the blink of an eye, his career had ended. The cast from his failed knee operation had come off the week before, leaving him without anything by way of a future. He’d never especially considered a life outside athletics, not believing he’d need to worry about it for years. Even when he’d been informed that the surgery he would need was pioneering, and still relatively untested, he hadn’t accepted the possibility it might not work until it hadn’t. And to be surrounded by everyone’s pity after that…no. Even exiling himself to the countryside where he’d grown up was a better option.
The rest of his friends had all moved away from home—the days of staying on to take over the farm had all but passed. He and Iwaizumi had been among the first to move to the city, chasing a volleyball career which they had founded their friendship on. But they hadn’t been the last. When he’d returned home for his grandfather’s funeral, four months earlier, almost all his former schoolmates had gone.
I suppose even Kunimi must have left by now, he thought, folding the newspaper closed with a sigh. It was going to be lonely, that was certain. But better, in a way. It would give him time to muddle his way to some sort of answer.
As though to torment him, the ripple of a portal came into view as the train left a cutting. It was some distance off, out in the middle of a field—a window of rain and storms on an otherwise calm day. This far out from civilisation, it would probably just be ignored until it closed by itself. There was every chance that no one else but the livestock in the fields would even know it had been there. He screwed his face up, and exhaled sharply. Damn things.
The rolling hills were growing more familiar. He reached down for the walking stick he’d been forced to buy, and checked the time on his watch before getting to his feet. With any luck, the taxi he had phoned ahead for would already be at the station.
It was. However, he hadn’t quite banked on the friendly, helpful train porter who had loaded his bags only being able to unload them from the train, and that he would be the one left to carry them across the platform and down five steps to where the drab grey car awaited him.
The stationmaster’s office was locked. Tooru discovered as much after hobbling across the platform and rattling the door in vain. After a few moments he saw the notice taped to an adjacent window, scrawled on a piece of lined notepaper:
~Have to manage without me today - finally got that appointment to get my new hearing aid!~
“Thanks a lot, Chiba-san,” he muttered through gritted teeth. “You’ve been deaf for years, and now’s when you decide to get it sorted out?”
It wasn’t fair. Four months ago he could have skipped across the platform if he’d wanted to—although he wouldn’t have, because he actually cared about his image. And there was enough of that stubborn pride left in him that he found himself limping across the station with as much dignity as he could muster, despite knowing what he would have to do next.
Fortunately, there was no one else around on the platform to witness the considerably less dignified picture he painted as he hooked his walking stick into the handles of his suitcases and dragged them, one at a time, across the platform to the—
“Stairs. Shit.”
He took a deep breath. It’s fine. I can do this. I’m not letting stairs beat me.
From the foot of the steps he wielded his trusty walking stick once more. It was a trifle harder to hook the suitcase handle at arm’s length, but after a few attempts he tugged on it with a triumphant cry, only to squawk with dismay as it slid off the platform, rattled down the steps past him and flipped over to land in the only puddle visible anywhere.
Tooru deflated. He looked back up at the platform, where the second, even larger suitcase seemed to loom over him, promising trouble. But it wasn’t going to float down the stairs, and at least the puddle was fully occupied now. He gripped the handrail for support and had just raised his stick to attempt the hooking process once more when a voice called out behind him:
“Hai there, Oikawa-kun? You wanting a spot o’ help today?”
For a moment he was tempted to snap that no, he didn’t want help at all…but true as that was, it was also the sort of rudeness you could only get away with in the city. It was out of the question now he was home again. He sighed and turned around, trying to keep his expression cheerful.
“Well, I’d be lying if I said I wanted it, but I suppose I can’t deny that I’m a teensy bit stuck right now.” Smiling broadly, he added: “How’s Etsuko-chan these days?”
GOXXCGMGAETWGLMSEZZR-MRTPWTBKINNPPJ/EKEYEJHOYTZ
>>TRANSMISSION HISTORY SEARCH:[KEYWORD]NIGHTBIRD
SEARCH CRITERIA:[AGE]<90 DAYS
…RECOVERING FILES…
…FILES FOUND.
DISPLAYING TRANSCRIPTS:
>>SENT::Nightbird, extraction imminent. Move to prearranged location and make contact. Repeat, make contact with extraction team.
>>SENT::Nightbird, failure to make contact has been noted. Extraction team will move on if contact is not made within seventy two hours. Repeat, contact is essential within seventy two hours of this broadcast.
>>SENT::Nightbird, contact window is now six hours. Immediate contact is required or extraction will fail.
NO FURTHER RESULTS FOUND
REFINE SEARCH CRITERIA:Y/N
>>N
It was both easy and hard to return to a town so small that he even knew the taxi drivers—all two of them—by name. Hard because it wasn’t an anonymous face who had seen his undignified struggle across the platform—it was Sasaki-san, whose wife was one of the foremost gossip-mongers in the area. Their daughter wasn’t a whole lot better which meant the news about his return and state of health would be common knowledge in less than a week. But it was easy, too, because when he asked Sasaki to stop off at the local store so that he could fetch some groceries, the man offered to go in himself to spare both Tooru’s leg and dignity.
“I can’t lie and say as folk’ll not know, either way,” he’d said ruefully, “But there’s no need to strain yourself straight off.”
It was a peace offering, in exchange for the fact that they both knew he’d be telling his family, and that they in turn would tell everyone else. Tooru accepted it gladly. His knee was stiff and sore from the long journey without movement, compounded by his struggle at the station.
By the time they’d reached the winding driveway to the Oikawa house, the day had waned to a dim twilight. The two-storey building loomed out of the shadows, dark and forbidding.
“You’ll be alright up here by yesself?” Sasaki asked as he helped lug Tooru’s suitcases up the steps. “It’s a long old walk if owt goes wrong.”
Tooru nodded grimly. “I’ll be fine,” he said. “It’s only a few weeks until they’ve said I can start driving again, and then I’ll be heading back to fetch my car and the rest of my things.”
“You’re moving back permanent-like, then?” Sasaki asked, eyebrows raised. “I will admit, folk thought you’d be selling the house.”
He sighed. “I thought about it,” he admitted, hobbling into the kitchen and flicking on the lights. “But…well, we’ll see. Oh, just leave the bags here. I can manage the rest. And…thank you. For the help.” I really needed it, he didn’t add, although he was sure it was written all over his face.
“Ahh, don’t you worry there, Oikawa-kun,” Sasaki said. “Consider it a favour repaid. Old Oikawa-san always had a kind word or deed on him, all the years he lived here. I’m sure I’m not the only one who considers themselves as owing your family, one way or t’other.”
Tooru smiled again, but he was glad that Sasaki didn’t linger long. It was awkward enough coming home to an empty house, without being reminded of the long, benevolent shadow his grandfather’s legacy cast over the community. Accepting favours he was owed was one thing. He’d certainly never been known for turning them down. But accepting them because they were owed to the dead was quite another matter entirely.
His knee burned, but he forced himself out to the larder to switch the fridge and freezer on, before unpacking the few groceries which he’d bought to tide him over until they were fully working. The house smelled stale and old. He’d have to give everything a thorough clean again. It had only been a few months, but the dust and cobwebs had started to mount up already.
Another time, he thought wearily, making his way into the living room with a packet of senbei. It seemed to take forever.
That was the countryside in a nutshell, though. The house was sprawling where his city apartment was compact. Remote where the city was full of people and transport, all crammed in together. Old-fashioned, while the city was heaving with the latest technological breakthroughs. He hadn’t even bothered bringing his shoulder phone with him, despite how much he had shelled out for the thing just a few months before. There were no mobile telephone networks this far out. Iwaizumi knew the number for the farmhouse, anyway, and he was the only person from his now defunct life there that Tooru was prepared to speak to for the time being.
And, for all that he could have lit the house like a beacon—there were certainly enough lamps dotted about the place—the country was dark where the city was bright. Too much light felt out of place. He flicked the switch on a table lamp and limped over to prod the power button on the television. The set hummed and buzzed as the screen warmed up. It was an older model than the one in his city apartment; housed in a wooden box which had been placed upon a low table.
It had belonged to his grandfather—the same as almost everything else in the house. He’d only really cleared out anything in danger of rotting when he’d come home the last time. Emptied the cupboards of their food, and packed up the houseplants. He’d been planning to come back and make a second attempt at some point. He hadn’t expected his return to be quite as permanent as it now seemed likely to be.
The most comfortable spot in the living room was the armchair. It was set up to have the best angle for viewing the TV. But it, too, had been his grandfather’s seat. Without really thinking about it, Tooru found himself landing heavily on the sofa, pulling the throw off the back and wrapping it around his legs. He leant back, shifting until he was comfortable. It was familiar enough, even despite the pain in his knee, that half of him still expected his grandfather to wander over with a mug of hot chocolate.
That was a thought he stamped on hard. Hard and fast, focusing instead on the television, although he was too tired to really pay much attention to the programme. The news was on, with a presenter wittering on about the latest developments out on the Loelken Front.
The words washed over him, not really penetrating. He was too tired to fully focus on the screen at all. He probably ought to get up in a minute or so, and turn it off. He should…should…
Tooru woke to a crick in his neck and sunlight in his eyes. The television set hummed softly in the background. It was still early enough that only the test card was playing, and the silence was oppressive. What was wrong?
He blinked, sitting upright and gingerly rubbing his neck. Silent. That was it. The clock had stopped.
In the city, he hadn’t especially noticed the lack of a clock. There was constant noise—cars, people, aeroplanes overhead. Here in the country, without that gentle ticking, time itself might as well have stopped too.
Winding the clock wasn’t something he’d done all that many times, but he was managing it with only a small amount of awkwardness from his knee when the telephone rang. Swearing, he hobbled over to the little table on which it rested and sank carefully onto the chair beside it. Going from standing to sitting still brought a sharp discomfort to his knee.
“Hello? Oikawa residence.”
“Hey, asshole, what the hell?” came Iwaizumi’s voice. “I told you to call me as soon as you got there.”
Tooru winced, but recovered quickly. “Oh, so you were worried about me, Iwa-chan?” he said airily.
“Of course I was, you shithead! You’re holing up in a giant house in the middle of nowhere when you can still barely walk. And don’t try and bullshit me and say you’re fine, either. If it wasn’t for—” He stopped abruptly, huffing loudly against the receiver.
“I know,” Tooru said, his voice tight. “You’ve got too many games coming up. Well, you don’t need to worry. It was Sasaki who met me at the station, and he said he’d stop by with another grocery shop for me later today. I dare say more or less everyone knows I’m here by now.”
There was the staticky huff of Iwaizumi sighing more slowly after that. “You need me to have a word with any of them?” he said gently.
“No, no, it’s fine,” Tooru replied, waving his arm for emphasis even though no one was there to see it. “I’ll settle down easier this way. They can get their gossip wrapped up faster and move onto the next bit of news.”
There was a short silence.
“Listen. Don’t…don’t overdo it, yeah? I know they’ve said you can drive again soon, but that isn’t gonna happen if you push yourself too hard.”
Tooru laughed. “Still mothering me from four hundred miles away, Iwa-chan?”
“Well someone has to keep you in line.”
He kept an eye on the half-wound clock as he chatted, twiddling his walking stick with his free hand. Talking to Iwaizumi on the phone again took him back a long way. The last time he’d done so from this hallway, they’d both been teenagers.
Urgh. Enough thinking about the past, he told himself, as Iwaizumi brought him up to speed with what he’d missed in the solitary day he’d been gone. It was a quick summary—long distance calls were expensive—but Tooru promised to call back as soon as he’d re-registered at their old doctor’s surgery, and settled back into things.
“And don’t forget to call me when they give you the all-clear to drive,” Iwaizumi growled. “No showing up out of the blue, you hear me?”
Tooru huffed. “Technically it’s still my apartment too, you know,” he said. “For now, anyway. I don’t need to ask permission to visit yet.”
“Hey. I’m not gonna replace you just like that, idiot,” Iwaizumi said. “And I know you’ve got this idea of staying on up there, but…you’re gonna drive yourself stir crazy, that way. You know there’s still a life for you down here. Hell. Even I’ve only got a few years left doing this. Don’t turn into a shut-in just because you’re the first of us getting benched. And don’t do something stupid like offering me money to cover your stake in this apartment—which I know you’re still thinking of doing, don’t deny it—because that’s just bullshit.”
“We already had this conversation,” Tooru said shortly.
“Yeah. And we’ll have it again as many times as it takes for me to get it into your thick skull that you are too damn young to be a hermit like this, okay? Now go eat something. I’m sure you’re already getting into bad habits.”
Tooru glanced over at the living room; through a wide arch which led to the square hall in which he sat. The senbei packet sat innocuously at the foot of the sofa. He’d fallen asleep before even managing to open it.
“Nonsense,” he said, putting as much scorn into his voice as he could manage. “I’ll have you know I’ve been very responsible.”
“Oh I’m sure you have. You’re so on top of everything that you called me promptly last night exactly the way we agreed, so why should I have any reason to worry?” Iwaizumi huffed down the phone line twice; first with obvious irritation, and then more softly. “Just…don’t let things get so bad that someone has to call for me, okay? I don’t want to have to drag your sorry ass back here. You whine too much.”
“So mean!” Tooru cried.
The phone call ended not long afterwards—long distance rates, after all—and he wrapped up the winding of the clock as quickly as he reasonably could. Talking to Iwaizumi about food had reminded him that it had been a long time since he’d eaten. Time for…Oh. Instant ramen. Well, it was probably healthier than senbei.
XRLYAFMWSTZV-TKINELSTEWHT/LOXRXKZYWAE
…VOCODER ENGAGING…
…ENGAGING…
…ENGAGED.
TRANSMISSION SECURE.RECEIVED::Paperwork sorted. You are now officially on leave for the next three weeks.::
SENT::Thank you. This…means a lot to me. I know you’re taking on a considerable risk by helping me.::
RECEIVED::Not as big as the one you are—they gave a direct order. And I mean, it’s not too late to stop, you know. You could always actually take the time off you’re claiming to. Call it compassion leave.::
SENT::You know damn well why I can’t.::
RECEIVED::Yeah…I guess I do. Good luck.::
END TRANSMISSION.
DISENGAGING VOCODER…
…DISENGAGING…
…DISENGAGED.
The rest of his settling in took several days. Pride made him drag his suitcases up to his bedroom before Sasaki arrived with the groceries…and the fallout from that exertion left him hobbling around the house for the rest of the afternoon, trying to deny how much pain he was in. It had been easy to stick to a rest and recovery regime while he still had a career to return to. If he no longer had that…what was the point? What was the point in looking after a knee which had already done its worst?
Still. His knee was one thing. The state of the old house was quite another.
Tooru had always preferred things to be neat and tidy. Dust-free. It was a habit most people assumed he’d picked up from living with his grandfather, in the mistaken assumption that such an obviously intelligent, sharp man must have exacting standards. In truth, it had always been the biggest difference between them. Each time Tooru returned home, he’d spent the first week scrubbing every room barring the study—which his grandfather had always refused to let him near with any kind of cleaning implement. He’d always maintained that even dust had its place in the world. Tooru told himself that he was respecting his late grandfather’s wishes by leaving the study alone as he worked his way around the rest of the house, but in truth, it was good to have one less room to sort out. He’d get round to it. Eventually. Just like he’d get round to sorting through the endless boxes of memorabilia stacked in almost every room.
All in all, though, it was a lot easier than he’d supposed to settle back into life in the countryside. He’d been given a list of exercises which would help his knee recover as much as could be expected, and there were plenty of well-meaning folk from the village who made a trip out to the house in his first week, offering help and usually some sort of ‘welcome home’ gift. It hurt his pride to let them, but until he was able to get his car, there didn’t seem to be much of a choice.
The days passed slowly but steadily. It was too quiet, so for the first time in his life he started listening to the radio to fill the silence. Started watching—really watching—television of an evening.
He boxed up all his volleyball memorabilia one night in a fit of bitter resentment, only to unpack it the next, setting every photograph, every trophy back in its place. He slowly, painstakingly pushed the vacuum cleaner around the entire house, pausing only at two doors—the study and the master bedroom. Gritting his teeth both times, he pushed past the rooms.
The nine day wonder which was his return to the community dulled and faded, pushed out of everyone’s mind by more pressing agricultural concerns. It was a little like taking a holiday, he told himself. Like getting a break from the busy city—and nevermind that he didn’t take holidays. As long as he maintained the illusion that he was in control of his life, it wouldn’t be so hard.
It was a clear day, drawing to a close. Tooru sat at the small kitchen table, stewing over the remains of a meal he really wasn’t all that interested in eating. Iwaizumi had phoned earlier, full of news about people and places he wished he weren’t still so emotionally invested in. The volleyball season was in full swing, too, which meant he’d been brought up to speed—albeit with tactful swiftness—with the progress of the team which he ought to have been captaining.
He ought to be the one headed into the regional quarterfinals. He ought to be the one cutting phonecalls short because he needed an early night because of training. He ought—
A silhouette moved past the kitchen window. Tooru started, then shook his head. No. He was just imagining things, surely?
The doorbell rang.
That…was not a normal thing to occur. No one went to the front door out in the countryside. Tradition dictated that it was used on two occasions only. Nevertheless, there was no denying that someone had to have rung the bell there: they were ringing it again.
He heaved himself to his feet, grumbling irritably as he snatched up his walking stick. Who in their right mind was pestering him at this time in the evening? And worse still, going to the front door so that he had to use the…the damn stick to see who they were? Well, he was certainly going to give them a piece of his mind.
The irritating mystery visitor knocked on the door when he was halfway across the hall: four rapid taps. Tooru gritted his teeth as he opened the door to the porch and flicked on the outside light.To his immense satisfaction, the dark shape of a person on the far side flinched. Good.
He wrenched open the door.
“Who are you?” he snapped.
His visitor—a tall, quietly handsome young man with dark hair and a smartly tailored suit—flinched again, eyes widening.
“Ah…pardon my intrusion,” he said, bowing. “I am looking for Oikawa-san? My name is, ah, Tanaka Jin, and there is an important business matter I must discuss with him.”
Tooru blinked. “Excuse me? I don’t have any ‘business matters’ to discuss with anyone, so—”
The man cleared his throat and bowed again. “Forgive me. I meant the…ah…senior Oikawa-san.”
“Then your information is severely out of date,” Tooru said shortly, gritting his teeth. This really was too much. “I’m the only Oikawa you’ll find here.”
He moved to close the door, but a hand reached out to stop him.
“Ah. Please…perhaps you can still help me,” Tanaka said, leaning forward. “I simply need to know—”
“Look. Maybe I wasn’t blunt enough before. My grandfather was the other Oikawa-san who used to live here, and he passed away a few months ago. Please just leave.”
Tanaka’s face twisted with shock and dismay. “He…no! No, that can’t be…the records would have—”
“I can assure you, Tanaka Jin,” Tooru said, sneering, “As the executor of his will, I know damn well what I’m talking about. Now, perhaps you would be so kind as to leave, before I’m forced to report you to the police for harassment. I can assure you that my name carries considerable weight in this community, so they won’t hesitate in coming to my aid.”
The distress and panic was easy to read on Tanaka’s face, but he said nothing more as Tooru shut the door in his face. How dare he. How dare he bother him like that! And making up that nonsense about having business with his grandfather, too. The man had been retired for almost the entire time Tooru had lived with him. All through his childhood he had sat at home, either holing himself up in his study to paint landscapes, or working in the garden.
He was halfway across the hall on the way back to the kitchen when the doorbell rang again. Gripping the stick tightly he took another step away, only to halt when the ringing started up once more, accompanied by a rapid knocking.
Pursing his lips, he wheeled around on his good leg and staggered back through the porch. He wrenched the front door open once more.
“Listen you little shit,” he said, clutching his walking stick tightly enough that his fingers hurt. “Just leave me alone and stop—”
“Please,” Tanaka said. “Just…please listen. I…I need…if what you say is true—and I believe you, I really do, and I’m very sorry for your loss—but this is already my last chance, and maybe…maybe you really can help me.”
Tooru stared at him. Nothing about what he was saying made any sense, and yet there was a desperation in his words which felt far too genuine to be part of some kind of act. The man almost looked like he was about to start crying.
“What do you want?” he asked eventually. “Really, I mean. No one gets this worked up over a business deal, do they?”
Tanaka smiled weakly. “Well, you’d be surprised…but, no.” He paused, looking around nervously. “Listen, I appreciate how this must sound, and ah…I promise to respect your wishes if you would rather I leave, but…might I step inside a moment?”
Tooru raised an eyebrow. “Really? You want me to invite you in now? How stupid do you think I am?”
“It’s…I understand. I’m sorry to have troubled you, Oikawa-san.”
There was no missing the disappointment in Tanaka’s voice, but he bowed once and started walking away without looking back. His shoulders drooped, and as he started down the steps along the path Tooru saw him clench both fists, then raise one hand to rub at his face. For the briefest moment he half considered calling him back.
What the hell? he told himself. That’s the stupidest idea in the world. He could practically hear Iwaizumi telling him that that was how people got murdered in their own homes.
Still, something prickled at him as he closed the front door and limped back to the remains of his now-cold dinner. He was reasonably sure it was guilt.
Which is ridiculous, he told himself. I refuse to feel guilty for not listening to some…some scam artist trying to play me for a fool.