Arrogance of Fate

“Legend has it that when a fairy dies, the Heavens themselves open up and cry out in sorrow. I suppose it makes sense that during the Last War, the skies would not stop raining for two whole years.”

Olaus Keyeforth, 1919

Sapporo, Hokkaido

Kaito Suzuki awoke in a hospital bed. The pain had largely subsided by now, mostly due to the emergency surgery the doctors had to perform on his eyes. The whole process probably took an hour, not including the helicopter ride to get to the most prestigious hospital in Hokkaido. It was a very complicated magic ritual. Half a dozen expert surgeons conducted a very careful removal of his left eye and very hasty repairs to his right. But that's exactly why he was brought here.

For now, he was supposed to be resting.

“Where the hell am I?” Suzuki asked himself. “And what time is it?” The nurse who was on standby, however, heard him.

“You're in Sapporo,” the nurse told him. “And it's 2pm. Apparently, some rogue magic users did heavy damage to your eyes and optic nerves. You're very lucky the damage didn't reach the brain.”

Almost six hours, he thought to himself. Suzuki tried to open his eyes, but only his right eye could be opened, barely. Not that it would have done him any good anyways, as he still had very thick bandages wrapped around his head.

“The last thing I remember is fighting a fairy,” Suzuki told her. “Then it was like the sun itself disappeared, and…”

“Yeah, your friend explained the whole thing,” the nurse answered.

“Shimano…” Suzuki began to remember more details of what had happened. “Where is he?”

“He's been on the line with someone named Sakamoto for about twenty minutes now,” the nurse replied.

“That's the bureau chief,” Suzuki realized. “Bring him in here so I can talk to the chief.”

The nurse did as she was asked, and Shimano handed the phone to Suzuki at once. He had a bit of trouble sitting up in bed or handling the phone, but Suzuki managed to get it close enough to his ear.

“Agent Suzuki here,” he greeted the chief.

“I'm beginning to lose patience with the two of you,” the chief replied. She spoke in a very stern voice, a bit grating on Suzuki's ears. She might have been awake for thirty-one straight hours with no coffee. “Not only have you let the girl get away again, but you allowed a fourteen year old to inflict permanent and very expensive damage to your eyes.”

“You're not referring to the boy she captured, are you?”

“I am in fact referring to the boy,” the chief answered. “We have over thirty witnesses on record saying the boy aided in Melody's escape.”

“How is that even possible? Unless…”

“Ah, I see you've finally found your brain,” the chief replied. “I'm giving the two of you one last chance. Bring the girl into custody, or consider yourselves fired. You have forty-eight hours.”

“Ma'am, I -” Suzuki tried to say before the chief hung up on him. “How the hell am I supposed to capture this girl with barely one functioning eye…?” He threw himself into his hospital bed in a sad, pathetic fit. “These bureaucrats are impossible…”

“Sir,” Shimano said as he walked up to the injured Suzuki, “what do we do?”

“I have an idea,” Agent Suzuki said with a deep, painful sigh, “but we're going to need to cheat.” He then turned to the nurse and asked, “Do you know any quick painkilling spells?”

“I do,” the nurse replied. “But the doctors said you need to rest up for four days after the kind of eye surgery you've just undergone.”

“Unfortunately, I don't have four days,” Suzuki replied back. “I have two days to complete this mission or I'll lose my job. I need this, please.”

The nurse fought herself to make a decision on the matter. At last, she walked over to Suzuki and chanted, “Take the Pain Away.” Suzuki found himself at ease for just a moment. “Just repeat that spell every twelve hours, and you should be just fine while you finish healing,” the nurse explained to him. Suzuki nodded in reply.

As Suzuki leaped out of the hospital bed, he motioned to Shimano. “We'll need a pair of thick-rimmed glasses,” he told his assistant.

“Why is that?” Shimano asked.

“If I'm going to be out in public like this, I need to at least look cool while I'm doing it,” Suzuki explained.

•

The two agents made their way to a local shop run by a family of pixies. Their shopping list was rather simple: Lunch and a pair of the thickest rimmed sunglasses they could find. Their choice of lunch items resulted in strange looks from the pixies.

“I'll never understand human cuisine,” the dad pixie told his family. “It's all ramen and curry and sake with them. Oh, and candy. Lots and lots of candy.”

“I wouldn't worry too much about it, dear,” the mom pixie told her husband. “Humans are just… different…”

“Still, would it kill them to show a little bit of respect for our culture and customs?” The dad pixie crossed his arms in frustration. “And don't even get me started with how they act during the holidays.”

“Not to be that guy, dad,” the oldest son, roughly the same age as Kenta, replied, “but you were the one who installed those vending machines in our store hoping they would improve sales.”

“You better watch your tone around me, Shirley,” the dad replied back.

“I told you not to call me that!” Shirley answered. “My name is Strider!”

“That's just a silly nickname you use at school,” the dad scolded him. “In this house, you use your real name.”

Not wanting to push the issue any further, Shirley backed down. “Yes, father…”

“Still, it would be nice if we could teach the humans respect,” the dad wondered as he looked out the storefront windows.

•

The glasses Agent Suzuki had picked out did a surprisingly good job at concealing his bandages from anyone looking at him directly. As long as Suzuki was still healing, Shimano had to lead the way, serving as his eyes for the time being.

“So, where to next, sir?” Shimano asked his superior.

“Sapporo Station,” Suzuki replied. “If I have my schedules straightened out, the next train from Asahikawa will be arriving in about fifteen minutes, and the shinkansen will be leaving for Tokyo forty-five minutes after that. That's our window for capturing the girl.”

“What about the boy?”

“We rough him up a bit,” Suzuki explained, “have him spend the night in jail, then return him to his parents. We'll have them pay for the emergency eye surgery.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Shimano said as he led Suzuki to the station.