Changing Tides

The sun filtering through the window pestered my eyelids until I could no longer bear trying to go back to sleep. Reconnecting with reality again, I was reminded of all the unusual sensations that crawled on my skin. The quiet shivers, the creeping of the stale air trapped in my futon overnight, and the slimy, semi-present...

Okay, that's not normal

I lurched my head up off my pillow and almost collided with Anya, who was knelt beside my bed. She toppled backwards, leaning on her hands. After attempting her best innocent expression, she righted herself and pushed her glasses up her nose.

"Beryl, before you say anything, I was on my way to ask permission, but... the reading I received from using my Pulse on you were unlike any I had ever seen. I didn't have time to wait for you to wake up."

I gave Anya a tired glower. I couldn't tell if I was displeased at her or simply displeased with the idea of being awake.

One of the luminescent tentacles of her Pulse retracted from me, my pupils following it, still unaccustomed to their alien appearance. Anya seemed to pick up on my curiosity.

"Do you remember the time I first showed it to you? To be honest, even though it was just a short demonstration, I picked up some signals then, and ever since I'd been wanting to sit you down and analyse them with you personally, but komandirsha's drowned you in new responsibilities as of late."

I yawned, covering my mouth so I didn't mislead her into thinking I was bored. Not that it was the most rousing morning conversation.

"Is it something I should be worried about?"

"What? No, not at all. The opposite, I'd say. I haven't been able to determine anything certain yet, but what I can say is that your compatibility rate with your RepliCor is much higher than average."

"Compatibility rate... and mine is higher than average..."

I had to repeat them to myself as the lurid sunlight was still making me groggy, and I made slow grabbing motions at the air in front of my chest. 

"Well, you see, a RepliCor can never truly be fully integrated with a human body. While it is designed to assimilate... ahem, interweave, with the circulatory system as smoothly as possible, the body's natural systems still put up a resistance. This has proven problematic in the world of organ donation and blood transfusions for decades, after all, hence the importance of blood types. 

Using a variety of parameters, we, or at least I with my ability to examine RepliCor readings without having to extract them, can attribute how compatible a RepliCor is with its host body with a percentage. Naturally, we do our best to make the initial percentage, before implantation, as high as possible to avoid complications, but that percentage typically averages at 50. 

Keep in mind, this percentage refers to the RepliCor's unification with the entire body, so it can still function as a heart without any complications at lower percentages. As such, the percentages are predominantly of interest due to their relation to the host's ability to make use of their Pulse.

"So that means the higher the compatibility percentage, the easier it becomes to use a Pulse..."

"Well theorised. That's correct, there's a near-direct correlation between the two. Not only does it become easier, but it often allows for broader applications of its use, as there are less inhibiting factors that might prevent certain actions from being performed."

"I guess that explains how I was able to make something so complex despite never using that Pulse before."

"Indeed. It was quite fascinating to watch, even from a distance. You followed my advice on learning to activate it, but I never imagined that you'd have the compatibility to support materialising it in that way. Otlichnaya rabota. What inspired you?"

"That night... I wasn't sure if I was hallucinating before I lost consciousness, but I saw a radiant spark glowing from the person that saved me. At the time, as well as doubting if it actually existed, I didn't know what it was... but exploring the possibility that it was their Pulse was what led me to try that idea."

"That's right, you do have their RepliCor after all."

She pushed her hands down onto her knees and raised herself off the floor.

"One thing I will add is that compatibility is not set in stone, as you can probably tell from how I've been talking about it. The more a RepliCor inhabits a body, the more it and the body will come to coexist, thus increasing compatibility over time, albeit incrementally."

Despite being so enthusiastic when discussing her research, her brow then creased.

"Unfortunately, none of these existing theories even begin to explain why your compatibility is naturally so high...

So, I'd like to propose something to you. Do you think you'd be okay with letting me continue to analyse you? I... know this time it was a bit selfish of me to do it without asking, but I'd like for it to be mutual from now on. I owe you that much. I'll make it worthwhile for you, too. I'd be glad to continue teaching you about how RepliCors and Pulses work so you can make better use of it in the field. 

How does that sound?"

I was unresistant. No matter what thoughts I had, I kept telling myself that I had no reason to disagree. This would benefit both of us.

"That sounds fine."

"Thank you. It's... unfair, I realise that. Especially after what I mentioned last time we spoke like this... But I assure you, it's painless. Aside from tickling a little and feeling a bit unusual on your skin."

It would be far from the first unusual feeling on my skin I've experienced here. Might as well add to the list.

"We've got a briefing with the Captain soon. I'll leave you be so you don't end up being late. I'll see you there."

Leaning her head back inside, Anya left me with one more comment.

"Oh, and there'll be tea. Maybe that sweetens the deal?"

I have tea from the vending machine once and all of a sudden it's a character trait.

---

Minamoto had gathered us all into an outside meeting, complete with a whiteboard on a stand and a set of chairs neatly organised into rows. I sat on the front row along with Hoshizuna and Eri, but there wasn't much choice, as the others had already fled to the rear rows. Eri had attempted to sit behind us, but her height made it impossible to see anything, so she resigned herself to joining us. The Captain slapped the board with a pointer, which was decorated in a number of diagrams and arrows.

"We've had reports of an increase in Leviathan sightings near Odaiba in Tokyo Bay. Luckily, the suspicions of the locals haven't been arisen, due to the fact that Leviathans rarely enter shallow waters. But lately, there have been rumours that they have been sighted in closer proximity to the shore than usual."

Minamoto pointed to a drawing of Odaiba, labelled as such, complete with a not-quite-circular Ferris wheel. The ghostly images of erased lines showed that this wasn't her first attempt at drawing it, either.

"Until now, Leviathans have only made their presence known to people here on Port Tatsumi, so if these reports are to be believed, we'll need to intercept and possibly defeat the Leviathans surrounding Odaiba to prevent their spread. Not only that, but we also need to discover the source behind their increased activity in that area."

She swung her pointer around to us, the audience. A few of us, namely Maeve and a woman with long curly hair wearing a bandana, tensed up instinctively.

"That's where you come in. I've split you into teams of three Anahata members each, to reduce conspicuity and risk of losing RepliCors should a Leviathan attack. 

You'll be posted at various locations around the island so that we can stake out and determine any patterns in their behaviour. If an approach is available, we'll launch an offensive, albeit one that is as covert as possible. Unfortunately for us, Odaiba is a very popular location for natives and tourists alike, so running into complications may be unavoidable. But it's a risk I'm willing to take. 

I trust you'd all agree."

She paced along the row before turning to us, arms folded, tapping the pointer up and down, her eyes weighted with determination. Meanwhile, I was looking at the unintentionally cute drawings of Leviathans used in the diagrams and wondered if it really was the work of Minamoto or not.

"You're dismissed. We'll discuss this further, including the team members and their posts, once we arrive in Odaiba."

Once Minamoto strode away from the whiteboard, everyone loosened up. Hoshizuna glanced up to the sky with a blissful expression.

"Odaiba, huh... I've heard so many great things."

Rinko's head appeared from behind us.

"It's been ages since I visited. There are so many places I want to go again."

They both drifted off into their dream worlds, ascending into the sky on an imaginary Ferris wheel cabin.

Minamoto comes to a stop.

"Oh, and since you're there as members of Anahata...

Shopping, fraternising and engaging in public activities are banned. You are to stick to mission protocol at all times."

There was a unified sigh. I saw Hoshizuna and Rinko's heads droop in despair.

---

"See you at the dorm then, Beryl."

Hoshizuna waved to me and she and Eri strolled back to dorm ahead of me, assumedly to prepare for the mission. I was on my way to do the same, but something caught my eye. A woman, standing alone facing the sea. Her presence was cool and crisp, and as she stood there, slim and almost crystalline as if she were skilfully etched into the horizon.

She spoke in a precise, quiet and clear tone.

"Sun angle: approximately 39 degrees. Temperature: 11 degrees Celcius. Wind direction...

She licks her finger and holds it to the air.

"Northerly. I see... a wise move, Captain. Weather is predicted to be fair."

Stowing her hand into her pocket, she retrieves something so wispy and thin I can't see it from where I was looking.

"One piece of preparation remains. We have a contract to uphold."

---

I didn't have any experience on how to prepare for a mission. I hardly had many tools with me to prepare aside from myself. Maybe mental preparation was the key. With my limited knowledge of mental training techniques, I went with the two easiest ways to get myself in a flexible mindset: 

Food and comfort.

Not long after returning to the dorm, I changed into a more comfortable state of dress. Okay, that's step one of comfort, or at least, as close as I could get to being comfortable. I had doused one of the flames of anxiety in my head, but there were still many before I could extinguish the entire blaze.

Next was food. We had a shared kitchen area downstairs, a typical house kitchen, but far too narrow for all three of us to use it at the same time effectively. I also had no idea where the supermarket or convenience store was on this island if there even was one. Of course, I was too self-conscious to ask. I'd been surviving off of cup noodles stored in the cupboard above the sink. So I turned to the cupboard again to be my saviour.

I knew it was unhealthy, but I told myself it was okay because I was eating a different flavour each time, so technically it was a balanced diet.

Please someone tell me where the convenience store is. Or a restaurant. Anything.

There were some that I had yet to try. I knew that if I were to relax, I would need a flavour that I like, and I'd had the forethought to save some of the best till last. Chicken was a surefire pick.

I scooped it out of the cupboard and inspected the packaging.

This is... pretty boring. Chicken, really? That and tonkotsu pork were the only flavours I ever tried before I came here. What flavours would they have eaten...?

I glanced back inside and checked some of the other remaining cup noodles. Spicy lime shrimp. Black pepper crab. Kyushu white...

No, now wasn't the time. I needed to relax. 

I peeled the lid off the chicken cup and poured in some boiled water.

Comfort? Check. Food? Check. Okay, we're mission ready.

...Yeah, this is stupid.

Steaming snack in hand, chopsticks jutting from the top, I made my way toward the staircase to head upstairs.

"Reader."

Someone emerged from around the corner. Despite the fact that they had only seen me for what I thought was a split second, they had ducked and crouched into a position close to the floor, drawing their posture tightly together, arms crossed, legs tucked, head facing straight ahead. They were ready to pounce.

I wasn't sure who looked more out of place, the woman that looked like she was doing an interpretation of an animal's natural defense mechanism, or me, standing there in my shirt, underwear, and socks, holding a cup noodle.

When she realised that this snack-seeking slob wasn't a threat, she rearranged her limbs into a standing state and brushed off her clothes. Now that she was properly visible, I recognised her as the woman I saw earlier after the meeting.

The cat that Hoshizuna had taken in nudged her dorm's door open with its nose and trotted out into the hallway to inspect the commotion. It was healthy now, Hoshizuna had told me it had started eating and drinking this morning, and it made this fact known to the woman in the hallway with me, to whom it was staring at, letting out a meow.

"Ah, Nekomata-kun. There you are."

The black-and-white cat leapt up from the ground and into her arms, climbing up to her shoulders.

"Keeping my handler safe is vital. While it's natural for cats to venture outside, I think I will, henceforth, maintain a closer vigil on him."

"That cat is... your handler?"

Hoshizuna did mention that the cat wasn't necessarily owned by this 'Saga' person, but I was hardly expecting that to mean it was her handler.

Then again, maybe a cat would be easier to deal with than Emil. I'll bring it up with the Captain next time and ask for an exchange.

"Yes, that's correct. Uro Nekomata. We have a contract, one written subconsciously between all Anahata members and their handlers. A duty, of sorts."

"And that makes you... Saga."

"Correct again, Beryl."

I was taken aback slightly. I didn't remember telling her my name.

"There's not much that escapes my knowledge on this island. Especially in regard to those that pique my curiosity."

As she stood there, her form became increasingly recognisable to me.

"Saga, um, can I ask your full name?"

"Saga Mimira."

"I might be jumping to conclusions, but are you Saga Mimira, the member of the Swedish branch of the high-IQ society Nemsa?"

I couldn't tell you why my memory of that cover photo was so clear, but I remember a monthly science magazine featuring an article on her when I was in college. I would understand if she were my idol, or it was a magazine or an article that I'd been heavily invested in, but all I'd done was skim-read it during my free time. 

The image accompanying it, or at least the details I could recall, weren't as eerily similar to the lady that was standing in front of me as you would expect. The one in the photo had a curved bob with pointed tips that extended just past her chin, and a pair of two purple hairclips that hung neatly on the right side of her hair. 

Instead, the Saga Mimira before me was sharper yet looser, her hair roughly arranged into the same shape as a bob, but the back section now curved outward, with two notable segments, one on each side, sticking outward. There were also stray sprigs and tufts that lifted away from the bob that made her look more unkempt. The consistent factor was the colour: a muted silvery-white, and her dark, dense eyes were a colour bordering on black, the reflections of the ceiling lamps like the flashes of aircraft on a starless night. Beyond the appearance, her name lingered in the depths of my mind, hanging on by a thread reinforced by a desire to remember that I couldn't begin to explain.

"Ex-member. Much like yourself and others here, as difficult as it may have been in my circumstance, my present identity does not exist. I was pronounced dead long ago."

I opened my phone to check her claim, and it was correct. Despite not having a notable online presence, checking the Swedish language pages of personal information sites showed me a clear date of death. There were even obituaries and comments of grief from those that knew her.

"It was quite fortunate that I came by when I did. I was passing by to deliver my plastics to the disposal when I recalled that this dorm was on the way there. My recent scoutings picked up traces of cat hair in the area that matched samples from Nekomata. So I decided to investigate."

Plastics...?

"What? This may be an island home to cybernetically enhanced humans but we still have recycling to do. Plastics are taken once a week on a Wednesday, and they go in the light blue bin. That's the routine."

"Anyway, we are indeed already acquainted. You may still be a puppy who is still ignorant of the world, but this island is a table, a table at which those with nowhere else to go may sit as equals and each discover their own purpose. All that remains is for you to reach out and touch it."

Reach out and... touch it?

I couldn't shake the familiarity I had with that phrase.

"I-"

"You needn't say any more. Now that my handler has been returned to me, I have preparations to make for the upcoming mission. I trust we'll encounter one another again soon, Beryl."

(Author Note: Chapter content is unfinalised.)