Coda

Three days after she had left the place for the final time as a cadet Rinako returned to the central Academy for the certification ceremony. She hadn’t intended to go. It was just a ceremony, after all, didn’t change anything. They weren’t going to pull her qualification because she didn’t walk across a stage wearing some stupid cap. Back at her temporary quarters she had thought how her conspicuous non-attendance would send the only message she wanted to. How it would become the topic of conversation among the other cadets. ‘Hey, did you hear Furukawa didn’t even come to the awards ceremony?’ Something about that pleased her. She even nurtured some perverse hope that they’d band together against her.

Then, on the day before the ceremony she changed her mind.

She didn’t know exactly what prompted it. Some residual memory of her grandfather’s passing out photo, how he would have felt seeing her there, the years of work she’d put in at the place or just sheer curiosity.

Whatever it was, she found herself walking up those stone steps to the academy foyer, now plastered in cheap printed copies of the ceremony poster, one final time. She took a look at the sign above the glass doors, the Preservation, Dedication motto that she would never have to read again, then continued on into the building. Everything felt different now that she was here by choice.

She’d been thinking about it on the metro all the way in. However she’d tried to distract herself, to imagine the assembled cadets all in full regalia, the strangeness of the empty classrooms now that she had passed beyond them, it was always there, burrowing just beneath the surface of her mind. But it wasnt the ceremony, or the presentation or even what was to come after. All day she stood in one line or another, whether it was with her class for the holographs on stage, waiting for the others, or at the edge of the lobby where the company officials and dignitaries came to make little showpiece conversations with select cadets. She watched these interactions, the cadets blushing or laughing nervously, the polite pretence of surprise on the face of the benefactors at some detail of the training at the academy, Director Otomo standing by at all times, explaining the finer points, making sure all went smoothly. The cadets would sometimes begin to relax, speaking with the expression of an old hand as they addressed the feigned ignorance of the VIP guests. It was the kind of expertly extracted appearance of professionalism that played so well in the holos and it made Rinako smile.

It was while this unfolded, as she stood in the outer lobby, a loose satellite of the chattering groups of cadets that had made up her intake, that she saw from the corner of her eye the instructors begin to file out of the main hall. There was a unfamiliar atmosphere now, as whatever bonds and rivalries had existed between the cadets seemed to have vanished with the medium of their shared education.

She broke into a smile as a girl she recognised from her Theory group tapped her on the shoulder, and they shared a few pleasantries. For a happy minute or two, she even felt that she was glad to be there, just like all the others.

Then she saw her.

The instructors had lined up against the wall at the edge of the lobby where the dignitaries were free to come and speak with them. A few left early, including Nakura-san, who had run them into the ground during their physicals, and who completely ignored her despite having looked directly at her as he passed. He seemed positively indignant that his students would now be on their way to a career with a trajectory higher than his own, and so simply refused to acknowledge it. But she really didn’t care about that. The burrows in her mind were otherwise occupied.

The figures at the edge of the lobby had been joined by one with a giant frame and red hair. She hadn’t been sure how she’d react. Whether she’d want to gloat or maybe just ignore her completely. Silence could be worse than any insult. She would know though, she thought, she would know when the time came.

The woman who had made her life a misery for the last four years.

So many times back in the dorms she’d heard her voice.

‘I thought you were from an enforcer family, Furukawa.’ ‘Furukawa, you call this an essay?’ ‘You’re an embarrassment to the academy.’ ‘Just quit, Furukawa. I can see you want to.’ Furukawafurukawafurukawa—her body aching with all the extra treatment it had been given.

She watched her pulling at the corners of the ill-fitting suit she was wearing as the commercial heads passed among the instructors, Academy Director Otomo gesturing with an arm as he introduced them. All the other trainers were chattering among themselves but here, finally, her instructor was the one looking uncomfortable. Every once in a while she took a deep intake of breath, shooting a stiff smile whenever someone came over to speak to her before looking at the ground or trying to find some empty place to rest her eyes.

She was glancing around furtively when she caught Rinako’s eye. Rinako stared straight back at her. They remained like this for a few seconds. Her instructor then took a quick look toward Otomo, who was occupied with another trainer, and set off toward her.

Rinako’s heart started to race. She closed her eyes. She was nervous but more than that she was angry at herself for being nervous. At her treacherous heart. This was it. The symbol of every shitty moment she had endured the last—-

There was a strange warm sensation in her hand. She looked down, and saw the huge hand in her own, another resting gently on top. They were soft.

The feelings inside her swirled unrecognisably, like a torrent of wind that had been stopped by a slammed door, broken into smaller currents and eddies.

She looked up.

All the words she had fantasised and rehearsed saying were nowhere to be found.

‘Well done, Furukawa.’ Her instructor’s eyes glistened in the lights. She looked at the silver ARPol logo on her shirt, the same as was now on her own.

Her instructor was smiling.

And stranger still, so was she.

‘Good luck.’ She felt the great hands gently squeezing hers. ‘Good luck.’

The thinking part of her, the part that had planned for this moment for such a long time, didn’t know what to do. But somehow, somehow the rest of her body did.

The room and everyone in it disappeared. She could just hear the distant muttering of the other cadets.

‘Thank you, ma’am.’

She held the bow deep enough that no one could see her eyes.