7

Countdown: 165 Days Remaining.

Makoto scanned the abandoned teleporter station at Meidaimae. No heat signatures, no energy signatures. Just like the rest of the towns they’d explored, this one showed no signs of life.

“I’d always hated coming through here on the way to school,” Rui said, returning to Makoto’s side after having scouted the immediate area. “It was always too full of people, there was no place to rest and barely any room to breathe.”

“Never thought I’d miss that,” Makoto said, finishing the train of thought. Rui nodded beside him, and the pair stood for a moment, taking in their desolate surroundings.

What had been a hub of activity and socializing had become a mere husk of a building. Neon bulbs spelling out the name shone dully from their spaces, barely visible in the faint daylight. A haze consumed the air around it, reminiscent of the pollution such a popular area once created. Now a permanent cloud of dust covered it, never seeming to settle.

The tall apartment complexes and office buildings populating the majority of Meidaimae were like suits of armor: previously full of life, then reduced to shells of their former glory.

Rui led the way down one of the paved streets leading off from the transporter station. Faint outlines of neon bulbs lined where windows used to be, and spelled out the names of the companies that once ran this town.

“It’s surprising to see that these buildings are still standing, for the most part,” Rui said solemnly. “Kichijouji’s almost completely in ruins.”

Makoto looked around at the office buildings, noting that they were majorly intact, as Rui had pointed out. “Maybe because this town was mostly businesses, and the larger companies cleaned out what they could. There was no need to destroy what has no value anymore.” He sighed, wishing his hometown had been lucky enough to avoid the vandals and thieves trying to take anything they could carry.

Can’t really blame them for simply wanting to survive though, Makoto thought, pushing away any emotions attached to his childhood home. Not like it really matters anyways, since we won’t be alive all that long.

“You’re thinking something bad,” Rui said. When Makoto looked up, he flinched at how close the boy’s face was to his own. His fake eye glowed a little brighter, as though running a scan on him. “What’s going through your mind?”

Makoto sighed again. “Just the usual. Are you even looking for the hideout anymore, or are you too busy trying to read my moods?”

“Your only mood is apathy,” Rui said. He looked around, making a big show of moving his head. “See, I’m helping. I’m totally looking for the hideout.”

“Remind me again why I’m letting you tag along?”

“Because you enjoy my amazing company?”

Makoto made a face. “I’m gonna need an actual reason, not some outrageous lie.”

“Because we’re partners?”

“That’s something I’m starting to regret now,” he said lightly, hoping Rui would catch that he didn’t mean it.

When Rui didn’t respond in kind, Makoto chanced a look at his face, concerned. Although he wouldn’t admit it, certainly not to Rui, he had grown used to having company -- albeit chatty and occasionally annoying company. He could hardly imagine traveling in silence like he used to.

Rui didn’t appear offended by Makoto’s comment, if he had even heard it. He was facing away, looking into the building to their right.

“What is it?” Makoto asked, his voice hardly above a whisper for fear of being overheard.

“There’s someone inside that building,” Rui said, keeping his voice at its normal volume.

Makoto pulled out his monocle in response, activating it with a gentle tap of his finger, and ran a heat scan. As Rui had said, there was a single heat signature within the walls of the building. Makoto ran a diagnostic on the figure, and his blood ran cold.

“So you see it too?” Rui asked. The trepidation in his voice matched what Makoto felt, and with his mechanical ear, he could hear how Rui’s heartbeat quickened.

If his own heart wasn’t altered, Makoto had no doubt that he would have reacted the same way. “He’s Pure,” Makoto said, almost in awe. “That’s gotta be a trap -- maybe that’s why the buildings here are intact compared to the other towns.”

“I’m not so sure,” Rui said slowly. He scanned the rest of the building, then turned around to check the ones behind him as well. “He’s the only one here, in this whole area.”

“How wide is your radius?” Makoto asked.

“Wide enough to scan through the buildings behind too, and there’s nobody inside any of them, neither Pure nor Defective.”

Makoto checked the silhouette again. From the broad shoulders and straight torso, he guessed the Pure was male. He had a slight hunch to his shoulders, and, from the way he carried his weight, he appeared to be leaning against something for support. From that rough idea, Makoto guessed the man to be in his sixties, especially since he couldn’t have enhanced himself to combat aging. If he were a Defective, Makoto would have estimated closer to a hundred.

“I still don’t like this,” Makoto said, but he sounded less convincing, even to himself. There was something morbidly intriguing about being so close to the enemy. “He could still attack us, even if he’s alone.”

Rui nodded slowly, but he made no attempt to move away. “Let’s not forget what people like him have done to people like us,” Rui said, injecting venom into his voice. “Between the two of us, I’m sure we could take him.”

“Don’t tell me you’re looking for a fight?” Makoto said, the feeling of horror plain in his tone. “No way, absolutely not. I’m not going in there to fight an old man.”

Rui turned on him, his eyes harsh and unforgiving. His entire demeanor had gone ice cold -- his fists were balled at his sides, his jaw was tensed and lips pulled into a thin line. Gone was the boy who’d been joking only moments ago -- here stood someone so full of anger, his blue eyes burned. “Stop being such a coward,” he spat. “Have you forgotten what they’ve done? That they’re the enemy? You were shot by one of them for god’s sake.”

“They’re not all enemies,” Makoto said, once again coming to their defense. “My sister was taken by them because she's Pure, remember?” He hated the look on Rui’s face, how ruthless he was. How can I trust him not to be like that around Miyuki? In one last attempt to reason with him, Makoto said, “Besides, he’s alone. He didn’t go to the sanctuary with the others, so what makes you think he’s a part of all this?”

In a few seconds, the fire in Rui’s eyes had dwindled to nothing more than a little ember. His shoulders dropped, his body relaxing. He looked back over his shoulder for a second, then said, “You’re right; it is strange that he’s alone. And with no technology over in their precious sanctuary, it’s not like he can communicate with them.”

“Exactly,” Makoto said, moving away from the building. He still couldn’t trust that the old man was harmless, but he didn’t want to let Rui know that. “Now let’s get going; we’re wasting time.”

“Wait,” Rui said, grabbing his arm. “I want to hear what he has to say.”

Makoto stared at him for a second, examining his expression to see if any aggression remained. Seeing no sign of it, he asked, “If you’re not still looking for a fight, why bother going in there?”

“Don’t you have questions about all this? About why they suddenly revolted, killed as many of us as they could, then sequestered themselves away to wait us all out?” When Makoto’s expression didn’t change, Rui added, “At the very least, don’t you want to know why he didn’t go with the rest of them? He could offer some insight that the Rebels didn’t have when they stormed the sanctuary months ago.”

Makoto looked down, processing the information. He has a point, but I still don’t know if it’s a good idea…

“What are you so afraid of?” Rui asked. Though there was no judgment in his voice, he still hadn’t let go of Makoto’s arm, instead squeezing a little tighter. “There’s two of us; we could take him.”

Makoto pulled away, and Rui let him this time. “I told you, I’m not fighting anyone.”

Rui raised an eyebrow and glanced towards the building as though ensuring the man hadn’t moved before asking, “Why are you so adamant against fighting anyone, even when your life depends on it? You didn’t even defend yourself when the others were ganging up on you…” he trailed off, giving Makoto an opening to answer.

A chill ran through Makoto. He couldn’t look Rui in the eye as he mumbled, “I told you, I took an oath not to hurt anyone.” Not again. Never again. “Not even in self defense.”

Silence dropped between them. It sat in the space separating the two, heavy and obvious. Intrusive. Makoto wanted nothing more than to fill it, but he couldn’t find the words. He felt Rui’s gaze on him, searching for something more, and hoped desperately that Rui wouldn’t find what he was looking for.

When Rui finally looked away, all he said was, “You know, I don’t think there’s any point in upholding an oath at times like these.” His voice lacked conviction, and he wouldn’t look at Makoto as he spoke either.

He doesn’t believe me, but I guess he’s choosing to go along with it, Makoto thought gratefully. He breathed a slow sigh of relief and let some of the tension drop from his shoulders, looking again at the building.

An old, wizened face stared out at them from the broken window. Makoto jumped back, adrenaline flowing into his veins as his body prepared to make a run for it. He glanced down the street, running a quick scan, and was relieved to see nobody in the vicinity.

Rui, on the other hand, didn’t move. He stared straight at the old man without budging, without flinching.

A moment passed between the two, as though they were sizing each other up from respective distances, and then the old man turned away, same as the boss at the station had, to show that he was no threat. “If you boys have questions for me, you’re welcome to come in.” His voice was a little hoarse, and he wheezed like his lungs were on the verge of giving out.

Most of the aging population had their lungs replaced, Makoto thought, so it must be hard to breathe for a Pure. The air quality has worsened since the revolt; even I’ve been feeling that. He wondered for a moment, halfheartedly, if the man would be interested in having his lungs replaced, should he be given the opportunity. He decided against offering, fully aware that he lacked the proper materials.

Rui made the first move, stepping forward. To Makoto, he said, “I won’t make you fight, if it comes down to it, but don’t expect me to be as much of a pacifist.”

Makoto nodded, though he wasn’t sure Rui had seen him.

The doorway of the building was still intact, though the door had completely disappeared, down to its hinges. It looked like one had never existed.

Once they walked in, the old man moved away from the window, heading towards a metal chair. He hobbled unevenly on knobbly legs. His shoulders hunched forward significantly, giving his back a curved appearance.

With gnarled hands, he gripped a bar welded into the wall and lowered himself into the chair with a sigh. “I don’t have anything to offer you boys,” he said apologetically, looking at each of them in turn with kind brown eyes. “But perhaps I can help you?”

Makoto looked at Rui, waiting for him to speak. He couldn’t help staring at Rui’s face, surprised to find a gentle expression on it. For the boy who’d been itching to fight only moments before to appear so docile reinforced Makoto’s perception of Rui as a chameleon.

“Why aren’t you at the sanctuary with the others?” Rui asked, his tone as soft as his face.

“An astute question,” the old man said with a nod. “I’ve chosen not to repeat history, unlike the others. What they’re attempting -- it won’t end well. It never has.”

“What do you mean?” It was Makoto who spoke up this time. The question slipped out of his mouth before he could stop himself from asking it.

“Many generations before yours have tried to ‘recreate’ their idea of an ideal society, and all have failed. They always make the same mistake: picking a certain type of person to consider ‘perfect’ and ostracizing any who do not fit their image. This is just another iteration of history repeating itself, and it won’t end in their favor.”

Makoto couldn’t stop himself from grimacing in disbelief. “I certainly doubt it would work out in our favor either. People like us won’t survive the winter.”

The old man gave Makoto a sad smile. “You’d be surprised what the human race has survived. Every time, there’s those who think the same as you, and every time, they make it through. If you don’t give up, you’ll be surprised at what you may find.”

Makoto nodded, but he didn’t believe the old man’s words. It didn’t matter to him whether he lived through the winter as long as he rescued Miyuki before that.

Rui interrupted the conversation to say, “You didn’t seem surprised to see us outside.”

“You’re not the first, and I hope you won’t be the last. I’ve seen many a young person walk down these streets, many lives come and go.”

Makoto and Rui exchanged a look, then Makoto asked, “What others have you seen?”

“Many people around your ages, perhaps a little older or younger, heading towards the old train stations. This was after most people had left or been taken away, so I remember finding it a little strange to see so many at once in a mass exodus. I never saw them return.” He turned towards the window opening on his right, gazing into the street as though he could still see them. His gnarled hand gripped the side of his chair a little harder.

“Train stations?” Makoto asked. His voice was barely above a whisper. With one glance at Rui’s face, he knew the boy thought the same thing: those could have been the Rebels going to their hideout.

“I think I learned about that in history class at some point,” Rui said, a perplexed look on his face. His brows scrunched harder as he tried to recall what he’d read, but eventually he just shook his head. “I didn’t store it away anywhere, unfortunately.”

The old man gave a dry chuckle in response. “You young ones never store anything of use in those expansive heads of yours.” He adjusted his position in his chair and began. “Back before the invention of teleporters, transportation used to be significantly harder and more costly. It would take hours or days instead of nanoseconds, believe it or not.

“Trains used to be a major vessel of transportation, and people would spend hours each day traveling to and from where they needed to be for work or leisure. As such, the railways covered much of Japan, and most were interconnected with one another to allow a person to travel from one end of the country to the other with relative ease, or so it was considered then.

“Some of those railways ran underground, and included maintenance rooms and tunnels for repairs. That’s about all I told the last person who asked, and I would guess that the large group was headed for some of the underground tunnels.”

“Where would those tunnels be, exactly? These might be the people we’ve been looking for,” Makoto said, hardly able to hold back the excitement in his voice. His words still came out faster than he would have liked, betraying him, but he could only hope the old man wouldn’t misinterpret his enthusiasm.

He didn’t seem to, as he simply said, “If you continue towards the station at Shimo-Kitazawa, it used to have underground passages. I can’t guarantee they still exist, as they haven’t been used in centuries, but you may still have a chance of finding them.”

With a hasty thank you to the old man, the boys ran out of the building, all but sprinting down the path towards Shimo-Kitazawa station.

Makoto’s feet kicked up clouds of ashes as he ran beside Rui, almost giddy in his excitement. This was the lightest he’d felt in months, and he was going to revel in the feeling as long as he could.