14 A Lesson In Music theory

Ichiro tested the metal bar that was bolted to the table. It held, as expected, the chain linking his wrists secured in place.

As soon as the small pile of guards had stood up, Liam, Shizuko, and Hikari were already out of sight. The agents had pursued, in their full gear, but Ichiro heard nothing as he was dragged away to the next room, which appeared to be identical to the one they had found Shizuko in. The table in the middle. The chairs on each side. The single manually locking door to get in and out. The lack of any windows.

“So,” the voice interrupted Ichiro’s solitude, “you thought you would come back here again?” Agent Yamamoto strode into the room, his face passive, unreadable, and closed the door behind him. Ichiro looked, but couldn’t detect a trace of pride or disappointment in the man as he simply sat on the other side of the table. “I have a few questions for you.”

“What, no katsudon?” Ichiro asked sarcastically.

“This isn’t a tv show, kid,” Agent Yamamoto told him. “I don’t have time for inane jokes. We at the NBSP actually take our jobs seriously.”

“Are you guys just around to make sure that godsongs aren’t abused or lost?” Ichiro argued.

“That is among the duties under our jurisdiction,” Agent Yamamoto mused. “But personally, our research has reached into… other interests,” he said, pausing as if looking for the right way to phrase it. “You can’t really blame us for taking in your friend and her sister, it’s only natural that I would do so. Frankly, I’m kinda surprised we didn’t find your friend sooner.”

“You take your job so seriously,” Ichiro cut in, “that you just had to take in a high school girl for cheating on a godsong test?”

Agent Yamamoto stared at him, and began softly chuckling. “Yes, the test was suspicious, but that wasn’t originally why we went to your school; we were investigating a different situation in the area. Something involving the elder Sato sister. The fact that Sato Hikari fell into our lap, well, it was too perfect. And when we tested her for any ability to sing and she could not, we had our bait.”

“Bait!?” Ichiro exclaimed, a fist hitting on the table as he leaned forward. “That’s all she was to you? Bait!?”

“Well, hardly normal bait. I would have contented myself with just her if we failed to capture her sister. But yes, Sato Shizoku was our primary target, and a troublesome one to find.”

“Why!? What is all of this? She never did anything wrong… I think. I mean, I’m sure Hikari would have told me if something was wrong.”

“Tsk,” Agent Yamamoto just tutted at him. He basked in the glow of Ichiro’s frustration, grinning. “Yamada-san, I didn’t realize before that you and them were so close. Otherwise I would have reconsidered letting you just walk away. I figured you were just neighbours, but you truly care… about… her…” He trailed off, his face disfiguring into an unpleasant grimace before he shook it away. “Well, in any case, let’s walk through this, alright? What are godsongs?”

Ichiro blinked. Everyone on earth knew this, or very nearly; it felt like he was being asked what electricity was or the shape of the earth. “It’s, you know… songs that are sung and the gods like them and do things.”

“That’s certainly an elementary understanding,” Agent Yamamoto nodded. “Good enough, but you fall short on one point: Where do they come from?”

“Well, they’re discovered, or learnt, or heard… or figured out?”

“You think that we just… discover them? Figure them out, like a cosmic code? Or read them from an old book like a lost magic spell?” Agent Yamamoto sat back, mirthful as he gloated. “You really should get your nose out of the Jump. What do you think gods are?”

“They’re a lot more powerful than you are!” Ichiro snapped back.

“They’re impotent.” Agent Yamamoto cleared his throat before leaning in just a bit. “They do not speak to us. They do not deny us. They are our slaves.”

“You… that’s heretical.”

“And an exaggeration,” the agent chuckled. “Don’t worry, I know that in extreme cases, godsongs are denied. But my point stands.” He looked back into the hallway before returning his gaze to Ichiro. “You failed to answer the question though. A zero for you. What are gods, Yamada?” He looked expectantly but Ichiro didn’t give him the satisfaction of another unsatisfactory answer. Finally, Agent Yamamoto continued instead. “They’re people, clothed in human flesh, walking among us mere humans. And for some reason that we have yet to solve, until they pass on, they cannot sing to their brethren.”

There was silence, a small background droning filling the air. Ichiro’s mind stalled, racing from one meaning to another. The answer was there, but he didn’t want to say it. Didn’t want to think it. Every mental avenue though was a dead end or looped right back around to the answer he so desperately avoided.

“Hikari…” he slowly said, “is a god?”

“And you finally get it.” Agent Yamamoto held up his hands in celebration. “Yes, your dear friend, who apparently would tell you anything at all, seemed to forget to tell you that she is a completely different species. …Ok, to be fair, they’re human enough, just with a little something extra we haven’t quite figured out the reasoning for. And yes, gods and humans can… coexist, if you understand my meaning, though that’s generally doomed. And as for— Are you even listening?” he abruptly asked as Ichiro was staring into space. He snapped his fingers. “Come on, come back to us. It’s not that big of a deal.”

Ichiro refocussed. “So… you’re saying that this whole time… the reason she couldn’t sing was because gods can sing to other gods, and that’s what she is?”

“Yes,” Agent Yamamoto nodded. “And like all gods, she has a song that does something, though it only works when sung around her.”

Ichiro’s eyes widened just a touch as he instantly realized what that song was. Agent Yamamoto’s eyes mirrored his. “Ah, so you know it?” he asked, a bit surprised. “That… complicates things.” He waved the apparent concern away. “In any case, we wouldn’t normally hunt for them, though we do like to keep a collective of all songs, but in your friend’s case, she happens to be related to, well, the one god that we are all afraid of, to put it mildly.”

“The song of silence.”

“Precisely. The song to end all songs and all that. It would throw society into chaos. The issue is that a god cannot pass on on their own without teaching someone their song, plus a few other conditions, and so that puts us in a bit of a situation.” He leaned in closer. “I know you care about your friend. Likely more than you care about her big sister. So, here’s our proposal: help us contain the song of silence and those that already know it, and you and the younger Sato girl will never have to look over your shoulder again.”