Chapter 1.1

When Mamoru Fujimoto arrived at Section Eight’s office the following morning, he found Captain Nakamura slumped over the section chief’s desk, her face planted on a pile of that morning's newspapers.

Reiko’s arms fell outstretched over the width of the desk. In her hands, she carried a remote control which she kept clicking frivolously to modulate the volume of the broadcast screening on the CRT tucked into the center of the nearest bookshelf.

“–has declined to comment,” said the broadcaster, “however, Public Safety Director Tanaka Arataki stated that the situation is currently under control, and that reports of a roaming aberration at Odori Park remain unsubstantiated.”

“Good morning, Fujimoto,” she groaned without looking at him. She wagged her hand towards the lounge. “I stocked the lounge with more instant coffee, if you want any.”

“I’m good, thanks,” Mamoru scanned left and right. “Where’s the chief?”

“Unofficially, this is my desk most of the time,” Reiko replied. “Kazuo’s upstairs. He spends most of his days bickering with men his age to keep this room open.”

“And the others?”

Reiko picked up her head and nested her cheeks between her palms.

“You’re early, Fujimoto,” she smiled. “The others aren’t here yet. Why don’t you have a seat? Read a book while we wait.”

Reiko pushed herself off of Kazuo’s leather chair and clapped her hands. The bookshelf beside Mamoru folded back, and an old linen couch slid up behind him.

“You sure you don’t want any coffee?” Reiko asked.

“I’m fine,” he shook his head.

“What’d I buy it for, then?” she muttered.

Reiko disappeared into the lounge. Mamoru reached into his coat jacket and fetched a thin white envelope. He had written the letter last night the moment he had gotten home. He spent an hour composing the same message three times and chose the least embarrassing version.

“After last night’s events, I would like to tender my resignation,” Mamoru repeated. “Please accept my sincere apologies…”

A forceful knock on the front door interrupted his recitation. The same knock came again a second later, except louder and accompanied by the click of rubber soles on vinyl tiles.

“Fujimoto, can you get that?” Reiko called.

Mamoru crammed the letter back into his pockets and reached for the door. He expected to see the chief, or maybe even Miyuki, when he slid it open, but he found himself instead staring into a pair of sunglasses donned by an unfamiliar woman.

She stood toe to toe with him, with warm colored skin, broader shoulders, and a far more confident gait. Her thick hair was slightly wavy and fell into a low twist secured by a carved wooden pin.

The woman pulled down her sunglasses to look at him. Mamoru felt himself swallowed up by burnished eyes.

“You’re not Section Chief Shinomiya,” she frowned. “Are you his son? The old man didn’t mention any kids. His nephew, then?”

“Uh…”

“Neither,” Reiko answered, having returned from the lounge with a miniature mug. “Can I help you?”

“You must be Captain Nakamura,” the woman smiled and reached out her hand. “I’m Kanna Samukawa, head of Samukawa Group. Just Kanna is fine.”

“Right. You must be Mrs. Polar Bear. Kazuo mentioned you,” Reiko paused. “Actually, have we met before?”

“I don’t think so,” Kanna glanced nervously around the room. “Section Chief Shinomiya mentioned that your team would be ready for a debriefing this morning. Is this everyone?”

“You’ll have to excuse our other two members. We were up late last night solving an unsolvable case.”

“So it was you that handled the Brideskiller affair,” Kanna murmured. “I figured. Fine. I’ll take you up on that coffee offer then. Sachiko? Set us up while we wait.”

“Yes, Mrs. Samukawa.”

Mint and teakwood entered Mamoru’s nose. A serious looking woman, dressed in a thin black suit and tie, appeared before him as if she had walked out of Kanna’s shadow. She carried in her hands two briefcases. The first she set down. The second she unlocked by spinning the combination dial, unveiling a thick laptop and a projector which she mounted onto Chief Shinomiya’s desk.

Miyuki arrived a half hour later, dressed in nearly the exact same bright outfit as yesterday, dispelling any notion that Mamoru might have had that her attire was simply her interpretation of interview attire.

“Mamoru!” she waved. “Aren’t you here early?”

“I uh…” he shoved the envelope deeper into his jacket. “I woke up early today.”

Fujiko, on the other hand, took her sweet time and arrived another hour after with an uncharacteristic slice of toast spread with apple jam stuffed in her mouth. When she turned her shut eyes to Mamoru, she stopped chewing.

“I’m impressed, Fujimoto,” she said. “I expected you to quit.”

“Mamoru’s tougher than he looks!” Miyuki laughed.

If he could, he would have buried the letter inside his jacket stitchings.

“That’s everyone,” Reiko said. “Everyone gather round.”

“Let’s start,” Kanna motioned for Sachiko to turn on the projector. Reiko snapped off the office lights, and the projector flashed on the opposite wall a black-and-white silhouette of a bear, its coat etched with spirals and two stars.

“My name is Kanna Samukawa, head of the Samukawa Group,” Kanna reintroduced herself. “My group provides logistics and security services to the people of Sapporo, and I’ve been tasked, along with all of you, with protecting the city upon the arrival of the Egregore Seven and Castle Gramarye.”

“I thought Section Eight was asked to protect the Egregore,” Mamoru pondered aloud.

“Right,” Kanna nodded. “The Egregore are the honored guests of every nation they visit. The Prime Minister and the National Diet have a lot to lose diplomatically in not publicly providing personal security.”

“But practically,” she continued, “asking someone to protect an Egregore is like asking them to safeguard a typhoon. Besides, every Egregore is surrounded by their own private security. It’s the people of Sapporo that are at the witches’ mercy. They are the ones in need of our protection. I’ll leave the security of the witches to your discretion, but only after Sapporo is taken care of first.”

Sachiko switched to the next slide. A vibrant swirling red mist unfurled over a topographical map of Sapporo.

“This is the projected imaginarium density upon Castle Gramarye’s arrival, based on data collected from all prior tea parties,” Kanna gestured. “With the ascension of the seventh witch, we expect the density will rise to sufficient levels to fully separate the city of Sapporo from reality, or what you mages refer to as The Now.”

Miyuki’s eyes glued themselves to the projection. They traced across the pathways of the imaginarium as if she was counting every speck. Halfway through, she squeezed her eyelids shut and rubbed them with her hands.

“As expected of Castle Gramarye,” she muttered. “Even in a projection, you can’t see the beginning of its Existence Formula.”

“So what’s the plan?” Mamoru asked. “Are we evacuating the whole city?”

Kanna laughed.

“Boy, that’s absurd,” she grinned. “Have you never watched a tea party before?”

“No,” he shrugged. “They say it’s not possible for a man to be an Egregore. You have to be a witch. So why should it concern me?”

“Mamoru, it’s considered an honor to share a spatial plane with Castle Gramarye,” Miyuki explained. “It’s the time of year when the Egregore gaze past The Now to unravel a Mystery of the universe, like when the Egregore Khali ascended and used the resulting distortion in the imaginarium to observe the solution to the Riemann Hypothesis. Who wouldn’t want to be a part of that?”

“Evidently, not me.”

“Regardless of how you feel, Mr. Fujimoto,” Kanna said. “Evacuating all of Sapporo at this point would be a logistical nightmare and would amount to a show of great disrespect to our Egregore guests. You’d all be dismissed yesterday for seriously suggesting such a thing.”

“Unless, you want to be dismissed, Mr. Fujimoto?”

The resignation letter clumped in Mamoru’s pockets like a collection of stones. He considered flipping it out of his jacket, flailing it at Captain Nakamura and storming out without another word, but for some reason he could not explain, his hands froze before they ever scratched the dimpled folds of that written letter.

The reasons, as it were, were simple, even if Mamoru could only realize them on a subconscious level. Pride played a part, surely, but there was another a reason shared everywhere and by everyone who understood the pain of next month’s rent or wanting to afford that once in a while luxury meal for your family or even the crushing allure of buying just one, just one battle pass in order to accumulate the pulls needed for your favorite SSR.

Mamoru just really needed this job.

“No,” he muttered and buried his resignation letter for good. “No I don’t.”

“What a shame," Kanna shrugged. "Now, the Egregore are scheduled to arrive by the end of the week. The Sapporo Municipal Government has already agreed to cooperate with the Samukawa Group on a three phase citywide preparation plan. The remainder of the work will be handled by you, Section Eight.”

Kanna advanced to the next slide.

“Here’s what I propose.”