Silent Shouting

With the way that Mado and Japan were similar, the idea of lunch didn’t sound like much of a problem for Miho. Culturally, the two nations were very alike, even if they had a branching history a thousand years ago. Nearly everyone in Mado was Japanese either by ancestry or thanks to the Veil itself. It would be nearly impossible for the culture to diverge too far, with Mado regularly having an influx of Japanese migrants.

Even with that certainty, she did wonder where things changed. And while she didn’t have a fear about the food initially. The sights of Tokyo and the wider city around made her realize how vastly different their home was from their place of origin. Technology supplanted all. It was almost disheartening to see that there wasn’t much nature to find.

It still existed in pockets, but it felt more like humans trapped it into a box to be amused by or drain away comfort for their sake rather than that of the world itself. The city conquered and dominated the land. There was almost an arrogance to the feeling of it. And yet, she couldn’t say she hated it.

None of it made any sense to her. Every sight and smell assaulted her like it wanted to kill her or change her. It wanted to press over everything with uniformity. Everything that she should reject. Her natural urge was to scream and kick.

Yet, watching the city pass by from the car and the people walking in peace, there was something about it that just refused to let her truly despise it. If it weren’t so foreign, she might even grant them a curl of a smile. But that felt like a betrayal.

The vehicle came to a soft stop, breaking her out of her thoughts. She hadn’t paid close attention to where Yori drove them, just that it was for lunch. Leaning forward, she tried to get a picture of what she had to prepare for. “Blue Crow’s Nest?” Not as helpful as she hoped.

“Local place. They’ve got good food and a quiet atmosphere.” It wasn’t a better answer, but she just had to accept it. At least it looked far more normal than the last place. Though she doubted anything would end up that extreme. They just had a simple signboard outside and nothing else to distinguish it from any of the other surrounding buildings. Normal was welcome.

Despite not standing out, they apparently had a good customer base with more than half of the interior filled. And as Yori claimed, it was quiet without even much of a whisper. Everyone just kept to themselves and enjoyed their meal. She could finally relax.

Miho followed behind Yori, who walked with purpose over to a table. She sort of expected him to order, but the servers came to the tables apparently. The smell of fried food and spices hung loosely in the air, clearing her head. A moment from all of the noxious odors was quite refreshing.

“I’ll cover the bill, just don’t order a buffet.”

“Right…” She looked down at the menu as Yori only briefly scanned it. Most of the dishes had familiar enough names that it wasn’t strange. Though, she didn't recognize all of them. She could find something safe. Miho leaned back with her order picked.

A question came to her, but before she could even open her mouth, a teenage girl popped up at the side of the table. “Mr. Saioji!” Her voice was soft and energetic, full of warmth and eagerness. If a word could make someone bounce, it would be her voice.

Though Yori seemed unaffected by her, and only presented a polite nod and small grin to her. All business. “Ayano. Shouldn’t you be in class today?”

“Mrs. Sanda needed help. Her husband is sick and had no one to help for the early shift.”

“I’m glad that you’re helping her, but education is just as important. You can’t skip classes.”

She rocked forward, balancing on her toes. It wasn’t very subtle how she tried to lean towards him. He played everything discreetly. There wasn’t a sign that he saw what her actions betrayed, but Miho felt that he knew. The stoic attitude spoke loudly of his desire for distance. And yet she just kept pushing. Maybe she needed a more direct rejection. Yet he refused.

“It’s just one day! It’ll be fine.” She dropped down on the booth seat, only leaving an arm between them. Subtly wasn’t her strength, or maybe intent.

Still unfazed, he shifted the menu between them. “And how many days has it been this year?”

The girl pouted as he saw through it. “Not many.”

“Ayano, promise me you’ll go tomorrow. Mrs. Sanda will understand.”

“But it’s so boring…there’s more out there!” Despite the dampened energy from Yori, she persisted through, trying and failing almost comedically to get anywhere with him. Miho started to almost feel bad. She wasn’t sure the girl understood or just rushed in, planning to destroy all the walls anyway. Either would be impressive.

Being comforting, he tapped her arm with the menu. “And you’ll have plenty of time to see it once you graduate. You’re only a child once. Enjoy that first.”

“Alright…” She seemed aware enough that things were at an end. Perhaps, she just needed a little bit of attention, and that sated her. Miho struggled with the girl. But Ayano jumped back and pulled a pad with a pen. “Whatcha want today?”

“Tonkatsu and some of Mrs. Sanda’s tea.”

“Yuppers!” And then, like a light switch, Ayano looked over to Miho. “What you want?”

‘No, subtly whatsoever. Teenagers…’ It wasn’t like she would see the girl again, so she could deal with the attitude. “Chicken soba and water, please.”

“It’ll be about ten minutes. Thank you for your patronage.” And like a storm, she faded into the distance.

Miho glanced over to Yori, who relaxed a bit with Ayano’s departure. “She’s friendly.”

“Overbearing, you mean.”

“She’s infatuated.”

“I helped her about a year ago in a case. A kitsune had slipped through the Veil, attacking civilians. I rescued her.”

“But she doesn’t remember it.”

“No, the Veil and Section 14 saw to that. But the trauma left a strong enough imprint on her that she’s pieced together a fantasy of what did happen.” The mind would fit the fractured pieces in unpredictable ways. The Veil might have been a blessing, but it lacked a kind hand. People needed answers, and a hole gave none. Ayano’s tale was common enough that it didn’t surprise Miho.

“That how ye lost your eye?”

“No.” A very short, terse answer that said ‘stay away’.

But she still had curiosity. It was largely a plain black patch with strings tied in the back. Only a faint sense of mana came from it. She didn’t know if it was enchanted or etched, but it was hiding something. “And just leave it at that?”

“You going to talk about the source of that anger you had back there with Okamura?”

“No.” She crossed her arms, seeing that they were giving the exact same response. The silently spoken words were identical. It almost felt the same, and that likeness was taunting. Yet like a wound, it was protected. No one would break it again.

Miho stared back as his eye matched hers. An unknown, he should have just been a normal human agent. And yet her instincts screamed at her. Something was wrong. And it shouted, deafeningly loud at her.

She had to keep her silence.