The Devil Wears Next To Nothing

New Kyoto (Formerly Los Angeles)- June 16th 2233

6:05PM

Ichijo stood in the eye of a hurricane of fashion. Around him, clothes, papers and thread were tossed about amid loud cursing in English and Japanese. The room was a large office-space with cubicles lining the wall. “Ms. Threadbare” was once a high-end custom clothing shop. In the last hour it had descended into chaos as “the Organization” arrived with demands for over ten custom dresses.

Currently, several of his “colleagues” were getting fitted with expensive skankery. The first girl to walk out had been drop-dead gorgeous, of course. She wore a glittering halter dress that left little to the imagination. He would be next. While he relished the idea of ditching his currently thin outerwear, he shuddered at the possibility of wearing something more revealing.

Joseph shoved his way to the center of the room and nearly knocked him over. The bodyguard had been quiet outside of a few grunts since being assigned to him. Even while Ichijo performed a tune-up on his own solid-brain, the man had barely paid him any mind. That said, he moved with urgency and purpose. Reacting quickly whenever their masters sent him an order.

“This one next!” He shouted, shoving a massive finger in Ichijo’s face. Two of the frantic designers stopped what they were doing and lunged for him.

“Be gentle with me.” Ichijo demanded. They did not comply.

He was half-dragged into a fitting room filled with ladies in various stages of undress. Ichijo discovered that he was still attracted to the female figure, that was a relief. He was glad it was less obvious than it had been previously.

The two designers of unknown gender quickly removed the shirt and pants he had been wearing and stormed off. The room grew a pinch quieter. He noticed several gorgeous ladies staring at him with… jealousy? Frustration? He couldn’t tell. So, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“Well, aren’t you all looking lovely this evening?” The awkwardness dispersed, replaced with sparse laughter as make-up artists and stylist resumed their work. In the back, a woman with short pink hair laughed heartily. He’d killed it. That, or he was just so sexy anything would sound good coming from his mouth.

Ichijo felt a hand on his chin. He snapped his head forward and found a large man with incredible eyebrows. He opened an elaborate case with three long arms that had branched from his tall spine. Each free hand grabbed a single instrument of beautification, and they went to work in concert. He felt a brush over his cheeks and temple, a soft wetness on his lips, several brushes around his eyelids, followed by some light pulling on his lashes.

Not a minute later, the large man was gone, off to some other assignment as someone from behind began brushing and spraying his hair. He looked in the mirror at his face. Yes, his face. He had already begun to call it that. He saw very little difference from the makeup job aside from the striking light grey gradients above his eyes.

He smiled, finally noticing the off-red color of his lips, the perfection of his teeth. Ichijo Hajime lowered his eyes to the floor having to stare past his breasts to see the ground. A tsunami of indescribable melancholy poured over him. In his mind he tried to balance the two previous lives he had lived, trying with difficulty to keep Joben Gima’s memories from bubbling to the surface. Being naked had the effect of reminding him of Joben’s experiences in prison. And he refused to let them come to the surface. He refused to go back to that place.

“Aren’t you just fit to wed, Kaiya?” The voice screamed across his mind. Jaelynn wasn’t always listening, he knew that, but when she did, she often made herself known with a snide comment such as that.

He clenched his teeth. Pounding on the new forehead with a closed fist. He banished as many thoughts as he could from his mind and tried to focus. He filled his head with as many unrelated images as possible trying to overload her thought-tapping. All he had to do was get through tonight. Just tonight. Body-hack Haruto Minazuki. Nothing else mattered right now.

Someone tapped his shoulder. The pink-haired woman from before winked at him with one of her emerald eyes. “Aren’t you looking lovely?” She chided.

Ichijo stifled a chuckle, feeling a weight leave his shoulders. Shortly afterward it returned as five designers blocked his view of the mirror with three black cases filled with gleaming metal.

“Your dress has been forged, ma’am.” Said the tallest one, a person with more piercings than hairs on his head.

Ichijo managed to ask: “My what has been forged?” before the other four men began affixing things to him.

He was fitted with a thin metal frame consisting of three parts. One accented his breasts and upper body sitting atop them like the opposite of Lingerie. Below he had a G-string of sorts that at least guaranteed he was modest from most angles. That was accented by a pliable metal frame that sandwiched his hips and buttocks.

After that, the ribbons came out. Long white pleated fabric as wide as his new hands with small silver magnets on either end. The magnets clung to the metal framework and the ribbons were wrapped about his body to cover his considerable breasts and to hang in graceful loops about his hips. By the time all were placed the top of his cleavage were evidently visible as well as his navel, legs and 95% of his back.

“Do they need to see the entirety of my ass-crack?” Ichijo asked as the final pieces of cloth were snapped into place. He didn’t receive an answer and instead the cases were removed from before the mirror allowing him to see his reflection again. “I see. I suppose they do.”

A hand grabbed his shoulder and began to pull him out of the room. One of the designers chased after him, affixing a metal clamp to his wrist and handing him a pair of what he could only assume were shoes. “Stop, asshole! I need to put these on!” He bellowed.

“Do it outside. The limo is waiting!” Joseph snapped, finally making himself known.

As Joseph continued pulling Ichijo backwards, he made eye contact with a stately woman with blonde hair who stared at him with shock. She glanced at him in confusion as he was dragged out the door then at the designers, dumbfounded. He could hear a commotion afterwards from the shop as they left. A cry of “Where’s my dress!?” reached his ears, followed by a blather of confusion and further yelling as the chaos ramped up. Ichijo tried to right himself, but his feet could only scrape the ground until the two reached the silver elevator at the end of the hall.

Joseph slammed the button for garage 3 then the close door button. The elevator doors shut just as a designer had stepped into the hallway searching for them. The elevator quickly lurched as it shot towards the ground as fast as regulations would allow.

“Pff! Nice.” Ichijo commented. Fiddling with the silver sliders that were supposed to pass as shoes. He slid them on and realized they matched the metal clamp on his wrist which contained a small screen. He pressed the center, and the heels of his shoes began to float, repelling the ground a set amount as indicated on the wrist clamp.

“Let me get one thing straight here, Kaiya. Stop staring off into space. Move your ass and get to work, okay?” Ichijo was shocked. Joseph was talking! An amazing development. Every attempt he had made at such previously had fallen flat.

“So, I’m playing the part of a ‘deer-in-the-headlights’ girl well?” Ichijo asked, trying to smile in the genuine way he had caught himself doing in the mirror. Joseph sneered at it.

“Don’t act cute. My job is to keep you in-line and keep things from going south. Anything beyond that is overkill and I don’t do overkill.”

“I don’t know. Twelve men abducted and placed into female bodies to act as bottle girls seems like overkill.” Ichijo probed, hoping to catch some information. Joseph didn’t miss a beat.

“The other bottle-girls are doing their job. You do yours. Only you and a few others have the know-how to hack someone’s solid-brain. Act accordingly.”

“So, there are other people like me on staff? Interesting.”

“There is no one on staff like you.” The bodyguard let slip.

Ichijo adjusted the level of repulsion on his heels until they felt right, smugly relishing the information he’d coerced from the security guard. He knew based on the laboratory he’d woken up in that this “Organization” could have dozens of agents like himself in the field. Hearing that none of them were “like him” could mean a lot of things but most likely meant that none of the bottle girls had been gender-swapped quite like he had.

He quieted his brain and tried to pay attention for any interference. Nothing. Either Jaelynn wasn’t tapping into his thoughts at the moment, or he couldn’t tell that she was until she talked. He made a mental note to pay attention the next time she sent thoughts to his head.

Joseph retrieved a small metal lighter and a cigarette from his back pocket. “The organization expects a lot from each moving part and at the same time, not much. If you fall behind, you’ll be out and even I don’t know for sure what happens to you then.”

Ichijo snatched the lighter from the bodyguard’s hand. “Then we’d best be efficient.” He said, snapping the lighter onto one of the many magnets hanging from his person. “Come now, you don’t want to get this fancy dress smelling like smoke, do you?” Joseph hardened his face into a glare, crushing the cigarette in his freehand.

“My lighter. Bitch.” The guard spat. Ichijo’s face curled into a wicked grin.

“Retrieve it, bitch.” He responded, throwing his hip to the side, and lifting one of the ribbons invitingly. Joseph made a motion in Ichijo’s direction, then settled back into a parade rest. Eyes forward, hands clasped behind his back. Ex-military too… Ichijo was learning all sorts of things about his captor.

The elevator dinged as it reached the garage level. The doors revealed a white stretch limo, floating inches above the mag-track. Grateful for the interruption, Ichijo left the elevator and skipped to the back door. Joseph caught up, silently, and held the door shut with his hand.

“One more thing, idiot. Don’t talk to the other girls about your objective. No comparing notes. You all know what you need to know, and that’s it. Only a few of our hired girls work for us directly so you’d be wasting your time asking for help, anyways.” Joseph finished. His eyes narrowing. “This is a mission but it’s also a test, Kaiya. Do your job right and we don’t axe you. Capiche?”

“You just need Haruto Minazuki’s brain, right? I can get you what you want from it.” Ichijo replied, feigning confidence to the best of his ability.

Joseph smiled. “Yeah sure.” He opened the door to the limo.

The chatter of twelve girls escaped from the vehicle into the night. As soon as Ichijo made his entrance the conversation died. The girls turned to each other in hushed whispers. Each one sized him up in their own way.

He felt over-dressed in front of the bottle girls, coming across more Grecian than sultry. Of the twelve, only a few were Japanese. There were two Russians in matching blue dresses, both plain but form-fitting and sheer. An Indian girl wearing a green virgin-killer dress, six Americans of African, Mexican, and Irish descent in a variety of halter dresses. Finally, there were three Japanese girls wearing hollowed-out qipaos with intricate flower designs.

The middle one, wearing white with a splash of pink, he recognized as the pink-haired woman from the shop and chose to sit across from her. Joseph sat towards the front of the cabin between the two Russian women striking up some friendly banter with them. As the limousine moved, he felt a pit in his stomach as the silence enveloped him.

“Man, that dress shop. What a mess, huh?” Ichijo interjected, hoping to get a laugh. He got none. Even the friendly pink-haired woman seemed wary of him now. Not good. He was beginning to realize that sexiness had its limits. But conversation always had possibilities.

“That’s a great dress.” Ichijo remarked to the pink-haired girl. “Really brings out your boobs.” He finished. The pink-haired woman’s jaw dropped as she was forced to acknowledge her ample boob-window.

“Excuse you! I’m not the one wearing next to nothing!”

“Well, we can’t all be peasants.” Ichijo responded, flicking his hair with one hand while slyly wiping away beads of sweat from his neck.

“No, actually.” The Indian girl chimed in. “I think you got the wrong dress… uh…”

“I- uh, Kaiya!” Ichijo responded. Using the new name for his first time. “And yeah, I heard some commotion about that. Oh well!” he shrugged, resting his arms on the seats, and crossing his legs comfortably.

The gaggle of girls gasped. Some seemed impressed, others worried. The pink haired woman laughed. “I knew you were off your mark, new girl!”

“Always.” Ichijo responded.

“Aren’t you going to get in trouble for that?” The Indian girl remarked. Ichijo caught himself admiring her.

“Wow, you’re gorgeous! Can I take you home?” He let slip. The Indian girl turned away in a mix of surprise and amusement. Several of the other girls began to chuckle. Whether at him or with him Ichijo couldn’t discern. It was better than silence, at least.

“Stop hitting on the other girls, Kaiya. You want to get fired?” Joseph snapped.

“I have only just begun!” Ichijo affirmed. Taking the girl’s hand in his. “What is your name?” He asked.

“Elizabeth.” She responded, covering her face with her other hand.

“Elizabeth! Marry me, please!” He begged. Falling to one knee in the middle of the moving Limo and bowing his head. The limousine rounded a corner with just enough momentum to knock him over. He fell to the ground, dragging Elizabeth partially off her seat.

The laughter grew louder now. That was good, at least he had some things to talk about. As Elizabeth helped him back to his feet he smiled and tried to laugh with the rest at the situation. He parroted the expressions he’d made in the mirror. His mind raced faster and faster. He had to keep up this momentum or there would be a poor impression of him left on the other bottle-girls and he couldn’t have that. He had to make connections somehow, he had to get a leg up in some way. Any way.

“You’re a mess!” The pink haired woman responded.

“I never got your name, my other wife!” Ichijo quipped hoping his tone had come across sufficiently playful.

“It’s Sakura. Sakura Taira.” She responded once he had made it back to his seat.

“Taira! No way! How regal.”

“Yeah, regal in the Heian period, maybe.”

“No no, still regal. We’re in the Heian period now.”

“What?”

“No seriously! Japanese history is a circle, we started over once we hopped the pond and made the California purchase!” Ichijo insisted. “All you need to do is give birth to a great heir and we can rule this country with an iron fist!”

“That’s it. No more drinks for you.” Sakura replied. The group laughed heartily; Ichijo included. He knew Sakura was covering for herself partly with that response, but he had the feeling she was a good egg, regardless. Maybe she could be a connection for him.

“Where are you from, Kaiya?” One of the girls asked.

“I was born in Tokyo.” He responded honestly.

“Tokyo Tokyo?” One of the Americans chimed in.

“Yeah, my gramps was a famous neurosurgeon.” He explained. The group was riled up at that point, barraging him with questions. It was there that Joseph interjected.

“That’s enough! No one wants to hear about your backstory, Kaiya. Keep it to yourself!”

Ichijo looked him over as the other girls came to his defense. He held firm, giving Ichijo a glare that read: “You’re talking too much.” Ichijo got another grin on his face. Another chance to push his buttons and see how far he could take it.

“Why? You afraid I’m going to say something that’ll make them uncomfortable? You know who I am why don’t you tell them?” He challenged, hoping the bodyguard had a better backstory for Kaiya. The energy in the cabin rose a few degrees as the girls speculated on their relationship. Finally, Joseph’s façade cracked, and he let loose with the rudest thing he could think to say.

“Stop acting cute, Kaiya. We both know you’re not a real woman.”

The girls gasped. Elizabeth chimed in first, calling Joseph a number of expletives. Sakura was next trying to quell the insurrection in progress. A few of the Americans removed their shoes and tossed them in his direction as he grinned smugly. Ichijo had another thought in mind.

Thinking quickly, he undid the magnets of the ribbons on his top half and flashed him. “Huh, that’s funny!” He said, shoving his breasts in Joseph’s face. “They look pretty real to me!” Joseph broke eye contact immediately and started looking elsewhere. The bottle girls erupted into laughter after that and the next fifteen minutes in the car were spent with him trying to remember how to put the ribbons back into place properly.

He learned about the rest of the girls as they drove. Elizabeth was an augmented hair-stylist. She was responsible for a lot of the New Japanese’s recycled wire wigs. Apparently, it was more of a hobby than a profession. Eiko, one of the Japanese girls wearing a deep red, was Sakura’s friend. She had only just started attending parties. The other Japanese girl, Reiwa, had kept to herself, reading a book as they drove along. Sarah, one of the Americans had a bachelor’s degree in biology. The others were starting to fade into the back of his head as the limousine pulled to a stop at their destination.

He was enjoying himself for once in the last 24 hours, for once in the last year and a half. He did what he could to center himself as the jocular conversations continued. It’s just an act, just an act. You’re not Kaiya, you’re not Joben Gima, you’re Ichijo Hajime. And once this is over it’s back to that…

The girls arrived at the front of the club fashionably late. A wall of metallic glass pulsing with color greeted them as the limo came to a silent stop. Around the front of the five-story establishment was a line of patrons in a variety of outfits that seemed to stretch down the street endlessly. The group, led by Sakura skipped the line when she showed off her ID. A massive guard opened the door to them, and the group marched inside with Ichijo bringing up the rear.

As he did so the entire line of people lurched in his direction, craning their heads to get a look at him and what he assumed was his dress but was most likely his ass and back. Inside, the façade gave way to a forest of smooth pillars beyond which a pulsing beat could be felt. As the girls made their way down the center, several party guests could be seen behind the columns, chatting casually and in some cases getting it on. Sakura turned to face the group before they passed the last row.

“All right, remember to have fun, keep things light and if anyone approaches you in a way you’re not comfortable come find either me or Joseph, we’ll be making the rounds. Kaiya!”

“Yes ma’am?”

“If you have any questions about what’s appropriate please feel free to consult Elizabeth.” The Indian girl hooked her arm around one of his and gave him a quick smile. He felt lighter, a strong sense of relief washing over him.

“Eyes on the prize, Kaiya.” Came a voice in his head and he felt a particular numbness on the top of his cranium as it did. There it was, that was the tell for thought-tapping. The group marched on.

They had scarcely made it past the lobby pillars when they bumped into Ichijo’s mark. Haruto Minazuki was chatting with a group of well-dressed men and women with several orbiters standing awkwardly aside hoping to get in on the conversation. At the edge of the group Ichijo saw a slight shimmer that set him on edge, but he ignored it, choosing instead to study Haruto. He seemed comfortable, a stark contrast to what his file seemed to indicate about his partying habits.

If rumors could be believed he had completely shunned the party scene after becoming too addicted to alcohol. Tonight was his first year back to partying. Though, he had chosen to throw one with a “small crowd” he was likely not looking to get smashed again. That would make Ichijo’s job all the harder.

Haruto’s eyes snapped to the group of girls arriving, immediately singling out Ichijo from the group. He glanced up and down at Ichijo’s body and found himself involuntarily tilting his head at the sight. Ichijo tried to respond naturally to the attention but the concept of being studied so closely was almost alien to him at this point and he wondered what the man must’ve been thinking aside from-

“I want to bed this one!” The voice came from Ichijo’s periphery. He glanced to his left as a portly man waddled up to him wearing a macabre half mask over the left half of his face. “Hey, sweetheart!” He breathed in Ichijo’s face. “What’s a cute girl like you doing in a place like this?”

“Not you.” Ichijo responded bluntly, holding up a hand.

“Good, Haruto has his eyes on you Kaiya, focus in on him.” Jaelynn interjected.

Elizabeth stepped between Kaiya and the fat man, opening her arms with a smile. “Hey big man, would you mind showing a girl around? I could really use a guide.” Ichijo was awestruck by such an invitation and nearly felt obligated to snatch her away from the pig.

“Not you,” the man said, calling her an inexcusable name. “I want this one.” He shoved Elizabeth aside and Ichijo could make out the girl’s quivering lip as the man sidled up to him. Ichijo only needed a fleeting glance at Elizabeth’s expression to make up his mind on what to do next.

“Hmm. Do you have some alcohol for me, friend?” He asked the fat man. The creature released a wet chuckle.

“I’ve got a VIP box reserved, care to join?” The man slipped his hand down Kaiya’s back and in-between his ribbons.

“I need someplace… now!” He responded. He bent over and grabbed the man’s hand, looking up at him with pitiful eyes. He pouted slightly and stuck his butt out. Acting to the best that he could think in a manner befitting his wildest male fantasies in his previous lives.

The fat man glanced around desperately, noticing after a minute a glowing doorway emanating from one of the pillars. “B-bathroom!” The oaf stuttered, pointing towards the door.

“Ohhh yeah!” Kaiya responded, pulling the man’s hand along as she skipped in that direction. In her peripherals she noticed Elizabeth and Sakura looking in her direction with concern. She didn’t care. And she ignored the protests of Jaelynn on her brain as she dragged the fat man into one of the stalls.

Once inside, she pressed a button on the back of his neck revealing a female net-port. “Ooh-hoo-hoo! You like to body-swap?”

“Not exactly.” Joben responded. Pressing a point on his wrist and releasing with a hiss a male net-plug. He pulled the connector until he’d spooled out enough wire to plug into the man’s net-port and got to work.

First to go was the man’s network connectivity. Joben cut the businessman off from the net with a single subroutine. The man protested, realizing something was off when the stream of media he’d been listening to in the background came to a halt. Next to go was the man’s motor functions. He slumped on the toilet like a deflated balloon. After that, Joben set about filling the man’s head with a nasty thought, the feeling of being forced down on a concrete floor and pressed on all sides by a mass of men with their pants down. He sat with the man plugged into his wrist to ensure the program would loop for at least six hours then left the creature to stew in his juices.

“Nope. Not this one.” Joben quipped as he left the man to stew. Finally, he felt like he was living again.

Ichijo exited the bathroom and tried to find the rest of the girls but they had all dispersed to the dance floor, to bars, to various places. He didn’t mind, except, in the crowds and masses of humanity he’d lost track of Haruto Minazuki. The whole reason for this setup to begin with.

Jaelynn was irate. Screaming across his brain a number of frustrated thoughts and ideas. He did his best to tune them out as he made his way along the columns. Shut up, the night’s still young. He spat back at his kidnapper. Then surveyed the scene before him.

The venue was as lavish as it had appeared in pictures. Beyond the marble columns was a stairway to a cool-blue hell of undulating bodies. The club was centered around circular bars staffed with lively bartenders in colorful clothing. Water features littered the premises with some including live performances inside or aquatic wildlife. A subtle curve downward into several of the established fixtures gave the place an open feel. The absurdly tall ceilings meant that loud sounds traveled far. The fringes of the club were lined with velveteen VIP boxes where sharply dressed waiters stood at attention.

If the pig had a VIP box at Haruto Minazuki’s party, so would Haruto Minazuki, Ichijo decided. Before he could make his way over there, he was stopped by a small voice from behind him. He turned around to see the prettiest girl in a green backless dress.

“Elizabeth! Hey!”

“Sorry!” She called out “I was looking for you in the bathroom, but I didn’t find you there. Is everything okay?”

“Oh yeah, that guy had too much to drink. I was able to ditch him.”

“Good.” Elizabeth responded. “Sakura always says not to get too involved with people. We’re just here to have fun, not get too serious.” She admonished.

“I’ll keep that in mind. Did you see where that other group of guys went?”

“Now that you mention it, I think they went towards the entrance. Something about waiting for another member of their party.” Elizabeth remarked. Ichijo shifted gears, he’d head towards the front of the venue where a considerable crowd of men had gathered.

From the crowd emerged a woman in a wildly long dress. The piece appeared to be one length of fabric folded and wrapped about her person. The fabric began behind her neck, crossed in front to cover her breasts, again between her legs, then wrapped around to become a bow on the small of her back. The ends of which hung down and dragged behind her several feet.

She was tall, with curls of blonde hair that had been styled into voluminous twintails on the sides of her head. She emerged from the crowd on the arm of Haruto who seemed to carry her with a sense of dignity and respect. Their walk was formal and seemed to be revered by the gathering crowd.

Without thinking about it, Ichijo had positioned himself directly in the couple’s path as they marched forwards. When the woman looked up and saw her, she instantly flew into a rage.

“You!” The woman shouted, breaking free and storming up to him. “Do you have any idea how long I reserved that dress to be forged for tonight?”

“I’m sorry?” Ichijo replied, slightly confused.

“My dress! You’re wearing my dress, you sow!”

“Oh! This old thing?” He replied. Feeling cheeky. “Yeah, I think there must’ve been a mix-up. I was on a really tight deadline to get here and I think they gave me the wrong one. I’d be happy to trade you if you’d like.”

“Trade me!? You want to trade me, you little thief! I want my money back for the dress I reserved for tonight!”

Ichijo looked at the insane woman for a long while. “I don’t see what the big deal is. It’s an honest mistake. I’m sorry I made it, there’s a bathroom around the corner. I’m telling you if you want to switch we can do that.”

“No!” the woman bellowed. Slamming her foot down so hard her right heel snapped off on the carpet. “You think my makeup matches that dress now!?”

“So give me a kit, I’ll redo it.” He wasn’t confident in his abilities but he’d give it his best.

“I don’t want your attempts at fixing this!” She screamed, pointing at his face with a small purse she’d been carrying around. “I want your employer and I want your ass! What’s your name, slut?” Ichijo lost his last shred of patience and let his next words fly.

“I’m Joben ****ing Gima!” He screamed in her face. The girl fell backwards as she tried to step on her broken shoe and landed on the floor with a clatter. From beyond her, the crowd looked up at Ichijo with derision. Haruto, at the front of the crowd had the most interesting reaction, stifling a chuckle with one of his hands.

Ichijo turned his back on the group and walked into the club. He stepped past bars, performers and past the VIP section until he came across an exit. He stepped out the back on the club and breathed the mostly fresh night air near the receiving area. Inside, he was sure Elizabeth, Sakura, and Joseph would be trying to find him. He ignored the buzzing in the back of his head as Jaelynn tried to thought-tap him. He realized with a start that he was standing over a massive magtrack that was used by moving trucks to bring supplies to the venue. It was likely that was interfering with Jaelynn’s transmissions. Of course, it was likely detrimental to his new solid-brain but he didn’t care. For the moment he had some peace to reflect on the events that had unfolded.

I’m dead. He thought first. It was a good attempt but they’re probably going to kill you now for screwing up this mission and there’s nothing you can do about it. He stewed on that thought for a bit, trying to think of how he could salvage the night and his objective, and he couldn’t. The briefing never mentioned Haruto had a lover nor that she was renting an expensive dress from Ms. Threadbare. No doubt that was some happy cosmic coincidence.

Then there was his outburst. Him blurting that out in front of a crowd of people whether or not they took him seriously was probably enough to have his goose cooked.

“Well shit.” He uttered, his voice echoing off the asphalt and the wastebins at the back of the venue.

“Sounds about right.” Someone said from behind him. He turned around to see his mark waltzing out of the darkness towards him.

“Oh, hi. Sorry, I uh…”

“Don’t apologize to me, you should save that for my fiancé” Haruto said, catching up to him.

“Oh! That was your-“ Ichijo scratched his head then stopped the act. “Aw, hell with it. She was pissing me off anyways. Didn’t mean to embarrass you but whatever. That ship’s sailed I’m sure.”

The young man seemed taken aback by Ichijo’s shift in tone. He came closer and leaned on the railing in front of Ichijo looking deeply into his eyes.

“There’s two kinds of people out here. The people that put on a face and pretend that everything’s okay and the one’s that tell it like it is.” Haruto began, pulling a cigarette and lighter from his back pocket. “Much that I dislike the latter’s lack of decorum I think I still prefer them to the kind that put on a face.” He finished, flicking the lighter which seemed to be out of fuel.

Ichijo reached under the magnet and revealed Joseph’s lighter. He turned the flint then held the flame under the tip of Haruto’s cig until it glowed softly. The young man took a deep breath then exhaled.

“Thanks.” He remarked, before returning to it.

“No problem,” Ichijo replied. “You got another one?” Haruto produced another cigarette from his back pocket and handed it over. Ichijo lit up and the two smoked in silence for several minutes.

“What’s your name?” The businessman asked quietly.

“Kaiya Arakawa.” Ichijo responded.

“Are you sure it’s not Joben Gima?” The man asked.

“Definitely not!” Ichijo laughed. He caught Haruto staring at him intensely like he was trying to figure something out. The stare caught him off his game and he looked away, slightly embarrassed.

“Oh good.” Haruto said finally.

“’Oh good.’ What?” Ichijo replied incredulously.

“You see, there’s a physical reaction people have when they lie.” Haruto explained. “I’ve installed several sensors on my person that give me a heightened perception. And I’ve installed a few programs on a secondary drive that make it easier to tell when someone is lying. Before, you said you were Joben with such confidence it almost seemed like you weren’t lying.” Haruto chuckled and flicked the ash from the end of his cigarette. “I’m glad to see I was wrong about that. Hilarious.”

“Sorry. First thing that came to mind.” Ichijo responded. He was telling the truth. And after all, he considered Joben Gima to be long dead by now. He refused to identify with that person or his traumas anymore.

Haruto produced a small card from his breastpocket and handed it over to him. The card contained a long scrawl of numbers printed in inlaid font. “That’s the link to my private line if you ever want to talk. If you need a job or you’re looking for some fun let me know.”

“Aren’t you taken?” Ichijo teased.

“Only if I go through with it.” Haruto explained as he walked back towards the club. He turned back to face Ichijo and said: “Enjoy your night. I look forward to hearing from you.” And with that he was gone. A sick paranoia washed over Ichijo as he stood there, alone. And it was with real horror he noticed what had set him on edge.

In the edge of his vision, he saw two men in anti-vis suits sneak behind Haruto back into the club. The slight shimmer in the air gave them away and they must have followed him everywhere and been everywhere even when he was mingling with guests in the entryway.

Ichijo clutched the card containing Haruto’s personal line. He didn’t have what the organization wanted. But maybe, if he made a good case for himself, he could convince them that he had something better.