healing for fanboy hearts
http://forums.megatokyo.com/showflat.php?Cat=&Board=UBB8&Number=427211#Post427211
Sun Mar 10 2002 05:48 AM



[!--OOC: Mwa ha ha.  I should've done this post a *long* time ago.  But SimS, your post was freakin' hilarious, and it gave me some inspiration.  And Vorkon's departure only makes it that much more appropriate as a sendoff from me.  Enjoy all, and here's hoping you actually get to read it, Vorkon. --]



The door to the club was pushed open from outside and two small silhouettes slunk inside.  A wet wind tried to follow, but they quickly shut it out and stood for a moment, just warming up.  The door was in the back, the most poorly lit part of the club, and the ambient gloom kept the identities of the newcomers a secret.

<I don't see why we had to come to a place halfway across town from the Station.  And at this time of night, too,> the one, apparently a man, said in a flat, even voice.  He stepped partially into the light, revealing nothing more interesting than street clothes befitting of a twenty-something Japanese man.  He shook off a tattered umbrella.

<We have to be careful just who might be listening or watching,> the other figure, another male, replied in a matched, emotionless tone.  He slipped off a jet-black, dripping raincoat and folded it so as to keep the water from getting on anything.  Random, localized rainstorms were commonplace in MegaTokyo, so none of the people already present thought anything of the fact that it had been a warm, cloudless spring night when they had entered.

The first man headed over to an empty table in the back and his friend followed.  Multicolored lights from the dance floor glittered off both the well-shined dress shoes and the sunglasses of the second man as he walked.  The rays were, however, devoured entirely by the ebony suit he wore, it was like a black hole.

Sunglasses at night?  Must be someone important, Aeonus thought idly, maybe another Mihoist or something.

<Feh.  Those jerks in information control are way too uptight.>  The first man flopped angrily down in a chair.  It creaked in protest.  <Even if it doesn't say so in the roster, I'm still an Agent.  I can keep a frickin' secret when I need to.>

<Yeah Takahashi, once a Himitsu, always a Himitsu, I know, I know.>  Though the man meant the comment to be somewhat comforting, or at least placating, his tone never varied, even slighlty.  <Talk more loudly, someone didn't hear you.>  Still deadpan.  He neatly folded his sunglasses and set them on the table.  He sat.

<Er...  sorry.  Boy, you can tell I haven't been around you for a few months, eh, Ishikari?>  Takahashi turned to face his old partner across the table.  <Hell, I'm almost as loud as I was back in High School.>  Ishikari's only response was a cocked eyebrow.  Takahashi grinned.  <So...  how's the wife?>

<Cold and caring as the day I met her.>  It was Ishikari's turn to smile...  slightly.  <But I'm sure you want to forget polite conversation for now and skip directly to business.  I can see it, your head is almost ready to explode from impatience.>

<Heh, you're right.  What DID you drag me all the way out here for?  It's obviously important enough that the Agency wants to keep it quiet.>

<Actually, I'm not entirely sure why they've got this clammed up.  It's not TOO hard to come up with theories, I guess, but still, people have a right to know.>  He shook his head and rummaged inside his suit-coat pocket.

<And...> Takahashi prodded.

The pocket was deeper than it looked, and held a lot of stuff.  Most of it was deadly.  But some of it was paper.  Having found the particular sheet he wanted, Ishikari pulled it out and unfolded it, smoothing it onto the table.

<This was delivered,> he began, <to our offices about three weeks ago.  It's taken me this long just to get it past security.  And I'm a [I]supervisor[/I] now.>

<It's a printout of a girl.>  Takahashi sounded put out.  <Looks like a piece of promotional art for a game or something.  I mean, not that she isn't cute or well drawn or anything, but--->

<Do you know what this is, Taka?>  Ishikari, used to his partner's ramblings, cut him off.

<What?>

<This is [B]HIMITSU[/B], Taka.  We know who she is.>

"NANI?"  Several heads turned in their direction but quickly lost interest.  People yelling "NANI?" was as common in MegaTokyo as random, localized rainstorms.  Takahashi's hands trembled as he gingerly picked up the paper.

<This...  This is our Lady?>  He looked at the writing in the corner of the printout.  <Kotone...  What a beautiful name!  ^_^>  Normally, humans weren't capable of inserting smileys in their speech.  But this man's kawaii-o-meter was so off the charts right now that, were it transplanted into several excitable young schoolgirls, at least three of them would spontaneously burst into flame.  So MegaTokyo allowed him to do the trick, just once.

<It's good to know that, after all these years, isn't it?>  Ishikari sounded happy, but not nearly as happy as Takahashi.  Everyone in the Agency had seen the two original pictures more times than they could count.  It was a bizarre part of their corporate culture, actually.  The management encouraged fanboydom of this random girl, believing the idea that she was somewhere in MegaTokyo and needed their protection would inspire the agents to excel in their work.  Some agents, like Takahashi, actually *did* become fanobys, and therefore took the matter quite seriously.

<There's something else about the picture, too...> Ishikari continued.

<Yeah, yeah it is nice to know...> Takahashi was lagged, and responded distractedly to his old partner's earlier comment.  He was studying the other word that was written in the corner...  "Sight".  His observation earlier about this picture looking like promotional art for a game bugged him, because he could swear--oh hell.  His face fell.

<Ishikari, she's a character in a [B]porn[/B] game!>

<That's... the other thing we figured out from it.>

<How...  how...  odd...  All these years, working so hard, and she turns out to be a... [I]made up character![/I].  Those bastards!  Th' chief, and all the bastards in ops, they must've known about this!>

<Does it change anything?> Ishikari asked.  He wasn't quite sure what his friend was going through right now, nor how he could help.  He was not himself a fanboy of anyone.  Except perhaps, he would occasionally admit to himself, of one particular girl named Ayanami Rei.  He would admit it to her too, sometimes.

<Does it...  does it change...>  Takahashi's stuttering shook Ishikari from his brief reverie.  <Of course it changes things!  It makes my whole time at the agency a JOKE!>  Other people in the bar definitely were staring now.  <All those late nights spent working, chasing all over the city, the country, the friggin' WORLD.  Her face was there all the time, quietly in the back of my mind, pushing me onward.  I'd never tell anyone else about it, but I'd always think to myself [I]'I'm protecting someone special!'[/I].  I protected a friggin' piece of paper!  She wasn't, isn't REAL!>

<I'll ask you again.  Does it change anything?>  Takahashi stopped short at that comment.  Ishikari *never* repeated himself, and doing so was like he had slapped Takahashi in the face.  It brought him back to his senses.  He thought about it, about what "real" meant in MegaTokyo, and about everything he'd learned in his training as an Agent.  How even basic physics were different here...

What it came down to was that it didn't really matter if she was real or not.  He had protected the ideal of her.  And even if this Kotone, his Himitsu, was just a fictional character, there were others like her, innocents that had deserved even more than his best efforts.

There were several that he had met on that second-to-last mission, in fact.  That little wizard-girl, she was so young and yet so dedicated to protecting the city.  He'd never apologized for yelling at her in Sega Square, when she was heading back into the building to make sure DWC was saved from himself.

And that l33t-speaking girl, certainly no one had tried to fight harder than she had.  The poets... and several of the other fighters in that little group stood out in his mind, too.  All selflessly courageous in their efforts to maintain peace.  The one quiet, deadpan girl, she had been willing to risk her own life to save her friend.  All of them exemplified the ideal that, to him, was embodied in his Lady, Himitsu Desu.

And then there was Kimiko.  Her charming, polite manner, her quiet drive, her compassion for others.  Those eyes, their fire...  God, even her *voice* sounded like the one he'd always imagined for Himitsu.

In the end he decided, it was all right that Kotone herself was just a figment.  She represented so many *real* people that it was ok.  But it left him with a strange sadness, a bittersweet feeling that clung in his chest.  He shook his head to clear it.

<Welcome back,> Ishikari spoke.  His friend had been starting to worry him.

<Huh?>

<You've been sitting frozen like that for about five minutes now.  Are you ok?>

<Yeah...  yeah, I am.  But I need to go to Anna Millers...>

<Now?>

<Yeah.>

<Are they even open?>

<There's this nice one just a few blocks over that I'm sure is 24 hours...>

<But... why?>

<There's someone there I want to see.  She won't be in until tomorrow sometime.  But that's ok, because I *really* need some time to just sit and write haiku.>



[!--OOC: Here's that omake post you suggested to send you on your way, Vorkon!  Peace, good luck, and ganbatte ne! --]