The Named [9/?]
Number 88 had taken them to a room upstairs to the one they were in. The girl had followed.
"This is our collection," he'd said with a sweep of his hand "As for what we're rebelling against, what is anyone rebelling against these days, ahn?"
Ryoma frowned, but took the opportunity to look around the room. Number 88 hadn't given them any information about this little rebel group that would be useful. Namely, what was going on in this fucked up dream world.
"So you're rebelling against--"
"Number One hasn't done anything wrong!"
Ryoma had planned on either leaving the statement as a fill-in, or trying to extrapolate the information by some other mean, but Miss Pigtails-sans-pigtails had provided him with just enough bluffing material.
"Why is she in here?"
"S-sorry, number 88!" A silver-haired boy who looked a little older than Ryoma ran into the room. "We lost track of her."
"So quickly? We only moved upstairs. Is my team so incompetent?"
Ryoma was interested in the sheepish expression on the scolded boy's face. He looked genuinely upset for disappointing number 88. It was interesting, but he supposed that the other teen certainly had an...air about him. It was little wonder that he was a leader of anything.
Cat-like eyes watched the girl shake her head. "If you can't even treat your friends right, then how can you...how can you criticize Number One?"
She had a point, actually.
"Why are you rebelling against him?" Ryoma finally asked, drawing the attention back to him. He didn't know the girl well enough to care, but he had a feeling that if she kept talking like that, things weren't going to end well.
Number 88 raised an eyebrow.
"I don't watch the news. Remember?" Ryoma reminded him. It had been enough before. Maybe it would work a second time.
Apparently, it had. With a flamboyant flourish, number 88 once again gestured to the room. It was an impressive collection of photos, what may have been newspaper clippings, and shelves of odds and ends. There were stacks of boxes in the corners, and a few desks covered in bits of things that Ryoma didn't really recognize.
"Surely," number 88 said as he took a step forward, "you've heard reports of the findings? The ones that caused the rebel groups to spring up?"
Ryoma must have had a blank look on his face because number 88 continued with his explanation. Either this guy was a huge idiot, or he really enjoyed the sound of his own voice. Ryoma was betting on the latter.
"We--and it was us--found evidence of past civilizations. These civilizations had freedoms that we do not. Rights that have never been given to us." His tone of voice was not the serious one it should have been for his words, Ryoma noted, but listened to regardless. "We decided that we're owed these things."
He wanted so badly to ask, but couldn't. He was worried he'd blow his cover. Instead, he looked over at Momo who seemed to be listening raptly. He wasn't going to be useful. He then turned to Miss Pigtails. Remembering her earlier reaction, he decided to use what he knew.
"Hey. Pigtail girl." Amazingly enough, she looked. "He says Number One didn't give them enough rights. Gonna take that?"
Her face darkened just enough. So predictable.
"Please don't talk badly about Number One. He's helped us! He really has! Why can't you understand? Everything is for the greater good."
'Greater good?' Ryoma really didn't like the sound of that. He found himself shaking his head. All of this was turning out to be like some sort of government conspiracy he'd read about a long time ago.
Somebody in the room scoffed. "Didn't learn from before, huh? You're still saying things like that? After the video you saw? When was the last time you saw someone happy like that?"
Ryoma did not turn to see who had spoken. He was too busy watching the girl's face. She frowned. Her little brows pinched together in a frown. She looked completely confused. That was not the reaction he was betting on.
"People smile all the time. We're supposed to smile and be happy."
Ryoma found himself scoffing at that. He may not know what was going on, but if this Number One person had anything to do with this, they were a bigger dick than Ryoma would have thought.
"Yeah. We're 'supposed' to smile. We're 'supposed' to be happy. But when was the last time you smiled for real, girl?"
She shook her head. It looked to Ryoma like she really didn't want to think about it.
"It doesn't matter. Number One says 'smile,' so we're supposed to smile. He's done so much for our people. It's not too much to ask for to show we're pleased with him."
"What are you talking about?" Ryoma's head spun. That was Momo's voice.
He gave a silent prayer that Momo didn't blow their cover. He was actually a little interested in what might be going on around here.
"You smile if you're happy. You yell if you're angry. You cry if you're sad. You're not supposed to smile all the time."
Looking horrified, the girl took a step back and shook her head. "No. No, we can't. I can't. I can't be here. Take me home."
"Can't handle the truth, can you? Can't handle the idea that your precious Number One is suppressing his people's growth, can you? It's true! He's an oppressive bastard and he needs to be stopped! We need rights as people! We should be allowed basic fucking things like emotions and names."
"Stop!" Throughout the barrage of words, her hands had come up, as if to block her ears from hearing. Her eyes had squinted shut, her head bowed towards the ground. It seemed too much for her to hear these things. It almost made Ryoma feel bad for her. It'd be horrible to live in this sort of world and be forced to believe that you're happy.
"No! We won't stop! We won't stop until we've brought him down and our country can smile for real!"
Ryoma did look, then. He wanted to see the face that belonged to those brave words.
A boy not much older than he was stood in the doorway of the room, his hands clenched into hard fists. His short brown hair was covered with a blue-and-white cap. The features that were normally probably pleasant were twisted into something harsh and angry. The silver-haired youth from earlier stood beside, an anxious look on his face. He looked like he wanted badly to step in.
Chancing a look back at the girl, she looked like she was on the verge of tears. But, like the expert that she seemed to be at hiding her feelings from the world, she seemed to overcome the urge and continued stared down at her feet.
"I'll turn you in," her quiet voice said in the calm that followed the cap-wearing boy.
"You won't." This, from their leader. "Not with evidence that you were here with us."
Her big brown eyes looked up and widened, then. "Evidence?"
"Why do you think number 47 had you pack clothes, girl?"
"So I could go back home…unnoticed?"
The capped boy snorted derisively. "That's only part of it."
A choked noise left her. “My number is inside those….” It seemed to dawn on her suddenly. “You all plan to…to turn me in if I don’t…join you?” She shook her head. “I wouldn’t be of any use. Why me?”
“Hey, hey, hey, now.” Ryoma wanted to yell at Momo for bringing attention back to them again. He was finally piecing together what was going on here. He didn’t need Momo disrupting things. “Leave the poor girl alone, yeah? I can’t just sit there while you’re yelling at her like that. She’s just a young thing. Let her be.”
He slung an arm around her shoulders which seemed to surprise her enough that she jumped. “You wanna go home? I’ll take you home.” He smiled down at her. “I can’t have people buggin’ Echizen’s first girlfriend, now can I?”
“She’s not my girlfriend, you idiot!” He couldn’t help it. The casualness with which he butted into everything was irritating. Hadn’t he heard a word they’d said, anyway? She couldn’t go home. They had dirt to blackmail her with. Or something like that. “She can’t go home, anyway. Stop butting in. It’s annoying.”
“P-please,” the girl stammered out. “Ryoma’s right. I can’t go home. They’ll turn me in. They have my clothes. Just leave this all alone. Please?”
Momo seemed confused by this. “I know all that. If they’ve got your clothes, then we just have to get them back. Right, Echizen?”
“Speak for yourself,” he mumbled. Louder, he said, “We don’t even know what’s going on, Momo-senpai. Let’s hear them out. Did they,” he gestured to the rest of the room, “say they wanted our help or something?” He shrugged. “Besides, she could be a bad guy.”
He didn’t really believe that, but it was possible. He knew next to nothing about the workings of this world. It was possible that she was actually a dangerous criminal or something that they were trying to bring to justice. After looking her over, Ryoma determined that it would be a very unlikely scenario, but it was still technically possible.
"This cutie? A bad guy?" Momo seemed absolutely disturbed by this idea. He leaned down into the girl's face, effectively invading her personal space even further. "Hey, hey. You're not a bad guy at all, right?"
She shook her head, causing Ryoma to roll his eyes when he saw Momo's face light up.
"See? She's no bad guy."
"Don't you think bad guys would say they weren't bad guys?" Honestly, the logic the other teen used sometimes....
"Well, yeah, but what if she really is a good guy and these guys are harassing her?"
A snort sounded from behind him and Ryoma looked to see the source of the sound. Number 88 stood there with his fingers pressed to his forehead. "Ore-sama tires of this. You," he pointed to Ryoma, "and you," he pointed to Momo, "are wearing strange clothes."
This was stated in a tone that said Ryoma should be able to infer what he meant just from this. He did not. "And?"
"It was the reason we brought you in here. You don't really refuse to watch the news, boy." It wasn't a question.
He really resented being talked to that way, but he waited to see where this irritatingly arrogant man was going with this.
"You're foreigners."
Ryoma couldn't help it. A small laugh left him. There was such conviction in those words! "Yeah, something like that."
"Good." If number 88 noticed the strange wording, he said nothing of it. He probably had his head too far up his ass to notice much else anyway, Ryoma reasoned. "As foreigners, you have benefits in our system that we do not." He did not expand on this. "You were probably sent to help us, no?"
He hated to admit it, but he was a little too curious about this whole place to just deny it right away. Besides, who knew. It could turn out to be true. "I can't say." It was close enough to the truth.
"Of course you can't." Blue eyes met his. "We need to get you out of those clothes and into something closer to our own. 89!" He snapped his fingers and a ridiculously large boy came around. "Fetch them something more appropriate."
He turned to face Ryoma once again. "You and your friend. Ore-sama wants to to say that you'll join us in our efforts."
Momo looked like he was about to protest again, but Ryoma stepped forward before he could get the words out. "Why not? It's not like we had better things to do. Right, Momo-senpai?"
He heard a sigh from behind him and knew that Momo had given in. A light smirk played along his lips. "Yeah, yeah. We're in."
"I'm glad to hear it."
The boy that number 88 had called over returned with some odd looking--what Ryoma assumed were--garbs. He walked forward to get them. "We supposed to put these on now?"
"No. For now, you may stay in those clothes. If you plan on leaving the building at any time, you should wear these. Understood?"
Ryoma finally realized what it was about number 88. He had the same air about him as his tennis team's captain, Tezuka. That same proud stoicness. "Got it."
"So do you people have to wear uniforms all the time, or what?" Ryoma glanced over at Momo as he spoke.
Number 88 raised an eyebrow. "We have standard issue clothing, yes. You do not have this where you are from?"
Momo emphatically shook his head. "That's just weird, it's just weird." He hugged the girl to him. "You mean this cute little thing has to wear those clothes all the time?"
Miss Pigtails blushed a nice color and Ryoma smirked. Oh, she'd be fun to toy with. "Everyone has to wear these clothes. There are no exceptions. All citizens have a uniform depending on their place in society. Government workers, doctors, facility members. All have a different type of clothing."
"Now that's just wrong. All the time. Even to bed?"
Number 88 scoffed. "Of course not. We have standard issue pajama sets." His voice was wry and a bit irritated. Ryoma wasn't sure if it was from the questions, or from the fact that they had to bear such things.
"We also have swimming clothes and formal wear," the girl piped up. She seemed like she didn't know how to react to Momo's touchy-feeliness quite yet.
Some of the things seemed completely out of place on those polished pretty steel shelves. He spotted a rusty wheel among the organized havoc. Closer inspection revealed it to be some sort of metal steering wheel. Maybe from a tractor or go-kart. The rubber had been stripped away from it, leaving its metal completely barren.
There were knives, bits of pottery and dishes, bits of folded clothing from time periods that Ryoma didn’t recognize. Silly things like bells and old teddy bears even made the collection. The items just sat there, staring forlornly at the cat-eyed brunet. It was eerie.
The photographs were a grab bag of moments captured in other people’s lives. They seemed to be sorted according to emotion. There was a collection for happy, smiling people, a collection for sad and angry people, and one for what looked like surprise. Some frames contained excerpts from either book or newspaper passages, but they were too numerous for Ryoma to sit there and read through them all. Some of the ones he’d seen were announcements of accomplishments or tragedies. He wondered what the news was like in this world if these sorts of things were surprising enough to be kept and displayed.
“Right, Echizen?” Momo’s voice brought him back to the room. He wasn’t even aware that he’d been talking.
Slowly, the room came back into focus. People had been talking around him. He hadn’t even noticed.
“Hm?”
Momo gave a dramatic sigh. “You weren’t paying attention, were you?”
“Nope,” he answered without an ounce of guilt. He couldn’t be expected to pay attention to everything that came out of Momo’s mouth especially.
“I was saying that where we come from, we have school and work uniforms, but we’re allowed to wear what we want when we’re out and about.”
“You’re still going on about that?”
The taller boy looked exasperated. “No matter how you look at it, this place is weird for having you wear uniforms all the time.”
“Yeah. Whatever.” He turned to number 88. “Yo. Arrogant guy. You said you wanted our help. What do you want us to do exactly?”
Judging by the other teen’s reaction, calling him “arrogant” was touching on a nerve. He’d have to remember that one.
Number 88 took a seat in a big leather chair at the head of the room. “We can’t give you many details right now, I’m afraid.”
“You mean that you don’t know how you want to use us?”
Ooh! Another nerve! Ryoma was on fire today.
“That is not what I mean. I mean to say that I am unsure how much information to give you at this point in time. Everything that you see in this room is what the public already knows. Any deeper, and you’ll delve into our secrets.” He paused. “How can we know that we can trust you, is the basis of it.”
“Wait, wait, wait.” Momo drawled out. “You’re tellin’ us that you dragged us in here, begged us to help, and now you’re not even going to tell us what we’re supposed to be doing? That just doesn’t make sense. It just doesn’t.”
Pigtails looked like she wanted badly to wriggle out of his grip when he started speaking animatedly. Ryoma was surprised that she’s lasted this long. Most people would have hit him by now. Ryoma sure would have.
“If you’ll recall,” number 88 started, “we ‘dragged you in here’ to save you from the night patrol.” He turned his nose up. “Please. Ore-sama does not beg.” He leaned forward just a bit, a wide smirk on his face. “He orders. I told you that you all would be helping us, did I not?”
Momo was put into his place, though Ryoma was unsure how much of that was actual “place-putting” and how much was confusion over the other guy’s showiness. It was almost embarrassing, really. He quite obviously had his team’s respect, but his personality…. Ryoma had met more tolerable brick walls.
“Yeah. Somehow, that doesn’t make me feel better.”
Number 88 waved the comment off. “Not to mention the fact,” he continued as if Momo hadn’t even spoken, “even if we knew we could trust you, we still can’t trust her.”
Momo frowned. “Don’t you guys have blackmail?” He huddled the girl closer protectively. Ryoma worried that the girl might suffocate.
“She might be dumb enough to tell anyway.” This, from the blue-capped boy from earlier.
The girl frowned at him, but didn't argue with him. She probably didn't want to start anything, Ryoma figured. The teen with the cap seemed eager to start a fight with her over anything and everything.
"What are you saying?" But, of course, Momo couldn't leave well enough to go. The girl may have been willing to let it drop, but Momo couldn't stand by and let anyone be bullied on his watch. It was an admirable trait, but in times like these, it could be extremely irritating.
"Momo-senpai. Let it rest."
The blue-capped teen talked right over Ryoma, irritating him further. "I'm saying if she was dumb enough to consider jumping off a cliff for Number One, then she might be dumb enough to turn all of us in even if it meant her own death along with ours."
Momo stood there, silent, for a moment. It seemed to take a bit to settle in. "You're saying that this Number One would kill all of you just because you're not happy with how he's running things?" He turned to the girl still pressed to his side. "And you would go and sacrifice yourself for this Number One? I know it ain't my place, but if this guy would kill you just for a little criticizing, then he ain't a very good leader."
She shook her head, avoiding his eyes. "It's not like that."
"It's not like what?" Momo didn't seem bothered by the girl's shyness.
She shook her head. "It's just not like that! It's not like that at all."
"And I'm asking you what it's not like? What are you talking about?"
"You all are so willing to...to make him the bad guy, but aren't you all the bad guys?" Her brown eyes were wide and watery when she looked up and, not for the first time since he arrived, Ryoma wondered what the hell this girl was even doing here. She was too...sensitive for these sorts of things. He wondered if they might be holding her hostage or something. But she seemed knowledgeable about the ways of her country. Even if she did have a twisted perspective of them. He supposed that number 88 had a good reason for keeping her here. He just wondered what that something was.
"Number One," she continued, "has helped our country. Number One provides. He helps. He...strengthens. He is a good leader. You all are just...." She took a breath. "You're villainizing him for things that aren't...that aren't fair."
Ryoma raised an eyebrow. He didn't know enough to actually jump in, but he couldn't help but feel a small amount of pity for this girl. Was this what number 88--in all his ridiculous arrogance--were fighting for? If all the occupants of this city were like this girl, it was no wonder he was willing to bring in two people who only might be foreigners to help. It was in a sad state, this town, if they were all as.... Ryoma searched for the right word. It almost seemed like she was delusional, brainwashed. It was eerie and more than a little creepy.
He watched the blue-capped teen closely. He almost expected him to go over and smack the girl upside the head or something. Not like Momo would even let him get close. But no. Instead, he simply took a stpe forward and stopped. "If you can look around at all this...if you can look at how humans used to be and honestly say that Number one is being fair about anything, then you're even dumber than I thought." He did not wait for her response. Instead, he simply turned on his heel and left the room.
"N-no, that's...." She tried to object, but she either couldn't think of the words to, or just couldn't bring herself to anymore. She slumped where she stood and Momo gave her a pitied expression before it stretched into his normal grin.
"Cheer up, girl, cheer up! That guy's not angry at you."
She looked like she didn't believe him. Ryoma didn't blame her.
"Hey, Pigtails." Her head turned towards him. "I wanted to ask this for a while, but...you're not a member of this group, right?"
Her expression told him everything. It was a mix of revulsion and confusion.
"So what are you doing here? Did you get lost?"
She shook her head. "Number 47 came to my window and brought me here."
"You were kidnapped?!" Momo's eyes widened as his voice rose.
"N-no! No! I wasn't!" She very emphatically denied. Interesting. "He just came and got me and brought me here."
"Did you want to go with him?"
"I...I didn't...not want to go."
For some reaosn, she avoided the eyes of everyone in the room. It interested Ryoma that she denied being taken by force when it was pretty clear that she disagreed with everything this group stood for. He wondered if she maybe had a prior relationship with number 47 and was brought here under false pretenses. Not that he really cared, he thought. It was just a little interesting. Certainly more interesting than standing around here doing nothing.
"So if you're not going to tell us anything until you trust us," Ryoma addressed number 88, "then how do we earn your trust?"
The other man was beginning to look a little bored with the whole thing, but he perked up at Ryoma's question--almost as if he'd been waiting for it. "Ah. Well. You'll just have to go on a mission for us."
"A mission?" Ryoma's and Momo's voices asked in harmony.
"This is our collection," he'd said with a sweep of his hand "As for what we're rebelling against, what is anyone rebelling against these days, ahn?"
Ryoma frowned, but took the opportunity to look around the room. Number 88 hadn't given them any information about this little rebel group that would be useful. Namely, what was going on in this fucked up dream world.
"So you're rebelling against--"
"Number One hasn't done anything wrong!"
Ryoma had planned on either leaving the statement as a fill-in, or trying to extrapolate the information by some other mean, but Miss Pigtails-sans-pigtails had provided him with just enough bluffing material.
"Why is she in here?"
"S-sorry, number 88!" A silver-haired boy who looked a little older than Ryoma ran into the room. "We lost track of her."
"So quickly? We only moved upstairs. Is my team so incompetent?"
Ryoma was interested in the sheepish expression on the scolded boy's face. He looked genuinely upset for disappointing number 88. It was interesting, but he supposed that the other teen certainly had an...air about him. It was little wonder that he was a leader of anything.
Cat-like eyes watched the girl shake her head. "If you can't even treat your friends right, then how can you...how can you criticize Number One?"
She had a point, actually.
"Why are you rebelling against him?" Ryoma finally asked, drawing the attention back to him. He didn't know the girl well enough to care, but he had a feeling that if she kept talking like that, things weren't going to end well.
Number 88 raised an eyebrow.
"I don't watch the news. Remember?" Ryoma reminded him. It had been enough before. Maybe it would work a second time.
Apparently, it had. With a flamboyant flourish, number 88 once again gestured to the room. It was an impressive collection of photos, what may have been newspaper clippings, and shelves of odds and ends. There were stacks of boxes in the corners, and a few desks covered in bits of things that Ryoma didn't really recognize.
"Surely," number 88 said as he took a step forward, "you've heard reports of the findings? The ones that caused the rebel groups to spring up?"
Ryoma must have had a blank look on his face because number 88 continued with his explanation. Either this guy was a huge idiot, or he really enjoyed the sound of his own voice. Ryoma was betting on the latter.
"We--and it was us--found evidence of past civilizations. These civilizations had freedoms that we do not. Rights that have never been given to us." His tone of voice was not the serious one it should have been for his words, Ryoma noted, but listened to regardless. "We decided that we're owed these things."
He wanted so badly to ask, but couldn't. He was worried he'd blow his cover. Instead, he looked over at Momo who seemed to be listening raptly. He wasn't going to be useful. He then turned to Miss Pigtails. Remembering her earlier reaction, he decided to use what he knew.
"Hey. Pigtail girl." Amazingly enough, she looked. "He says Number One didn't give them enough rights. Gonna take that?"
Her face darkened just enough. So predictable.
"Please don't talk badly about Number One. He's helped us! He really has! Why can't you understand? Everything is for the greater good."
'Greater good?' Ryoma really didn't like the sound of that. He found himself shaking his head. All of this was turning out to be like some sort of government conspiracy he'd read about a long time ago.
Somebody in the room scoffed. "Didn't learn from before, huh? You're still saying things like that? After the video you saw? When was the last time you saw someone happy like that?"
Ryoma did not turn to see who had spoken. He was too busy watching the girl's face. She frowned. Her little brows pinched together in a frown. She looked completely confused. That was not the reaction he was betting on.
"People smile all the time. We're supposed to smile and be happy."
Ryoma found himself scoffing at that. He may not know what was going on, but if this Number One person had anything to do with this, they were a bigger dick than Ryoma would have thought.
"Yeah. We're 'supposed' to smile. We're 'supposed' to be happy. But when was the last time you smiled for real, girl?"
She shook her head. It looked to Ryoma like she really didn't want to think about it.
"It doesn't matter. Number One says 'smile,' so we're supposed to smile. He's done so much for our people. It's not too much to ask for to show we're pleased with him."
"What are you talking about?" Ryoma's head spun. That was Momo's voice.
He gave a silent prayer that Momo didn't blow their cover. He was actually a little interested in what might be going on around here.
"You smile if you're happy. You yell if you're angry. You cry if you're sad. You're not supposed to smile all the time."
Looking horrified, the girl took a step back and shook her head. "No. No, we can't. I can't. I can't be here. Take me home."
"Can't handle the truth, can you? Can't handle the idea that your precious Number One is suppressing his people's growth, can you? It's true! He's an oppressive bastard and he needs to be stopped! We need rights as people! We should be allowed basic fucking things like emotions and names."
"Stop!" Throughout the barrage of words, her hands had come up, as if to block her ears from hearing. Her eyes had squinted shut, her head bowed towards the ground. It seemed too much for her to hear these things. It almost made Ryoma feel bad for her. It'd be horrible to live in this sort of world and be forced to believe that you're happy.
"No! We won't stop! We won't stop until we've brought him down and our country can smile for real!"
Ryoma did look, then. He wanted to see the face that belonged to those brave words.
A boy not much older than he was stood in the doorway of the room, his hands clenched into hard fists. His short brown hair was covered with a blue-and-white cap. The features that were normally probably pleasant were twisted into something harsh and angry. The silver-haired youth from earlier stood beside, an anxious look on his face. He looked like he wanted badly to step in.
Chancing a look back at the girl, she looked like she was on the verge of tears. But, like the expert that she seemed to be at hiding her feelings from the world, she seemed to overcome the urge and continued stared down at her feet.
"I'll turn you in," her quiet voice said in the calm that followed the cap-wearing boy.
"You won't." This, from their leader. "Not with evidence that you were here with us."
Her big brown eyes looked up and widened, then. "Evidence?"
"Why do you think number 47 had you pack clothes, girl?"
"So I could go back home…unnoticed?"
The capped boy snorted derisively. "That's only part of it."
A choked noise left her. “My number is inside those….” It seemed to dawn on her suddenly. “You all plan to…to turn me in if I don’t…join you?” She shook her head. “I wouldn’t be of any use. Why me?”
“Hey, hey, hey, now.” Ryoma wanted to yell at Momo for bringing attention back to them again. He was finally piecing together what was going on here. He didn’t need Momo disrupting things. “Leave the poor girl alone, yeah? I can’t just sit there while you’re yelling at her like that. She’s just a young thing. Let her be.”
He slung an arm around her shoulders which seemed to surprise her enough that she jumped. “You wanna go home? I’ll take you home.” He smiled down at her. “I can’t have people buggin’ Echizen’s first girlfriend, now can I?”
“She’s not my girlfriend, you idiot!” He couldn’t help it. The casualness with which he butted into everything was irritating. Hadn’t he heard a word they’d said, anyway? She couldn’t go home. They had dirt to blackmail her with. Or something like that. “She can’t go home, anyway. Stop butting in. It’s annoying.”
“P-please,” the girl stammered out. “Ryoma’s right. I can’t go home. They’ll turn me in. They have my clothes. Just leave this all alone. Please?”
Momo seemed confused by this. “I know all that. If they’ve got your clothes, then we just have to get them back. Right, Echizen?”
“Speak for yourself,” he mumbled. Louder, he said, “We don’t even know what’s going on, Momo-senpai. Let’s hear them out. Did they,” he gestured to the rest of the room, “say they wanted our help or something?” He shrugged. “Besides, she could be a bad guy.”
He didn’t really believe that, but it was possible. He knew next to nothing about the workings of this world. It was possible that she was actually a dangerous criminal or something that they were trying to bring to justice. After looking her over, Ryoma determined that it would be a very unlikely scenario, but it was still technically possible.
"This cutie? A bad guy?" Momo seemed absolutely disturbed by this idea. He leaned down into the girl's face, effectively invading her personal space even further. "Hey, hey. You're not a bad guy at all, right?"
She shook her head, causing Ryoma to roll his eyes when he saw Momo's face light up.
"See? She's no bad guy."
"Don't you think bad guys would say they weren't bad guys?" Honestly, the logic the other teen used sometimes....
"Well, yeah, but what if she really is a good guy and these guys are harassing her?"
A snort sounded from behind him and Ryoma looked to see the source of the sound. Number 88 stood there with his fingers pressed to his forehead. "Ore-sama tires of this. You," he pointed to Ryoma, "and you," he pointed to Momo, "are wearing strange clothes."
This was stated in a tone that said Ryoma should be able to infer what he meant just from this. He did not. "And?"
"It was the reason we brought you in here. You don't really refuse to watch the news, boy." It wasn't a question.
He really resented being talked to that way, but he waited to see where this irritatingly arrogant man was going with this.
"You're foreigners."
Ryoma couldn't help it. A small laugh left him. There was such conviction in those words! "Yeah, something like that."
"Good." If number 88 noticed the strange wording, he said nothing of it. He probably had his head too far up his ass to notice much else anyway, Ryoma reasoned. "As foreigners, you have benefits in our system that we do not." He did not expand on this. "You were probably sent to help us, no?"
He hated to admit it, but he was a little too curious about this whole place to just deny it right away. Besides, who knew. It could turn out to be true. "I can't say." It was close enough to the truth.
"Of course you can't." Blue eyes met his. "We need to get you out of those clothes and into something closer to our own. 89!" He snapped his fingers and a ridiculously large boy came around. "Fetch them something more appropriate."
He turned to face Ryoma once again. "You and your friend. Ore-sama wants to to say that you'll join us in our efforts."
Momo looked like he was about to protest again, but Ryoma stepped forward before he could get the words out. "Why not? It's not like we had better things to do. Right, Momo-senpai?"
He heard a sigh from behind him and knew that Momo had given in. A light smirk played along his lips. "Yeah, yeah. We're in."
"I'm glad to hear it."
The boy that number 88 had called over returned with some odd looking--what Ryoma assumed were--garbs. He walked forward to get them. "We supposed to put these on now?"
"No. For now, you may stay in those clothes. If you plan on leaving the building at any time, you should wear these. Understood?"
Ryoma finally realized what it was about number 88. He had the same air about him as his tennis team's captain, Tezuka. That same proud stoicness. "Got it."
"So do you people have to wear uniforms all the time, or what?" Ryoma glanced over at Momo as he spoke.
Number 88 raised an eyebrow. "We have standard issue clothing, yes. You do not have this where you are from?"
Momo emphatically shook his head. "That's just weird, it's just weird." He hugged the girl to him. "You mean this cute little thing has to wear those clothes all the time?"
Miss Pigtails blushed a nice color and Ryoma smirked. Oh, she'd be fun to toy with. "Everyone has to wear these clothes. There are no exceptions. All citizens have a uniform depending on their place in society. Government workers, doctors, facility members. All have a different type of clothing."
"Now that's just wrong. All the time. Even to bed?"
Number 88 scoffed. "Of course not. We have standard issue pajama sets." His voice was wry and a bit irritated. Ryoma wasn't sure if it was from the questions, or from the fact that they had to bear such things.
"We also have swimming clothes and formal wear," the girl piped up. She seemed like she didn't know how to react to Momo's touchy-feeliness quite yet.
Some of the things seemed completely out of place on those polished pretty steel shelves. He spotted a rusty wheel among the organized havoc. Closer inspection revealed it to be some sort of metal steering wheel. Maybe from a tractor or go-kart. The rubber had been stripped away from it, leaving its metal completely barren.
There were knives, bits of pottery and dishes, bits of folded clothing from time periods that Ryoma didn’t recognize. Silly things like bells and old teddy bears even made the collection. The items just sat there, staring forlornly at the cat-eyed brunet. It was eerie.
The photographs were a grab bag of moments captured in other people’s lives. They seemed to be sorted according to emotion. There was a collection for happy, smiling people, a collection for sad and angry people, and one for what looked like surprise. Some frames contained excerpts from either book or newspaper passages, but they were too numerous for Ryoma to sit there and read through them all. Some of the ones he’d seen were announcements of accomplishments or tragedies. He wondered what the news was like in this world if these sorts of things were surprising enough to be kept and displayed.
“Right, Echizen?” Momo’s voice brought him back to the room. He wasn’t even aware that he’d been talking.
Slowly, the room came back into focus. People had been talking around him. He hadn’t even noticed.
“Hm?”
Momo gave a dramatic sigh. “You weren’t paying attention, were you?”
“Nope,” he answered without an ounce of guilt. He couldn’t be expected to pay attention to everything that came out of Momo’s mouth especially.
“I was saying that where we come from, we have school and work uniforms, but we’re allowed to wear what we want when we’re out and about.”
“You’re still going on about that?”
The taller boy looked exasperated. “No matter how you look at it, this place is weird for having you wear uniforms all the time.”
“Yeah. Whatever.” He turned to number 88. “Yo. Arrogant guy. You said you wanted our help. What do you want us to do exactly?”
Judging by the other teen’s reaction, calling him “arrogant” was touching on a nerve. He’d have to remember that one.
Number 88 took a seat in a big leather chair at the head of the room. “We can’t give you many details right now, I’m afraid.”
“You mean that you don’t know how you want to use us?”
Ooh! Another nerve! Ryoma was on fire today.
“That is not what I mean. I mean to say that I am unsure how much information to give you at this point in time. Everything that you see in this room is what the public already knows. Any deeper, and you’ll delve into our secrets.” He paused. “How can we know that we can trust you, is the basis of it.”
“Wait, wait, wait.” Momo drawled out. “You’re tellin’ us that you dragged us in here, begged us to help, and now you’re not even going to tell us what we’re supposed to be doing? That just doesn’t make sense. It just doesn’t.”
Pigtails looked like she wanted badly to wriggle out of his grip when he started speaking animatedly. Ryoma was surprised that she’s lasted this long. Most people would have hit him by now. Ryoma sure would have.
“If you’ll recall,” number 88 started, “we ‘dragged you in here’ to save you from the night patrol.” He turned his nose up. “Please. Ore-sama does not beg.” He leaned forward just a bit, a wide smirk on his face. “He orders. I told you that you all would be helping us, did I not?”
Momo was put into his place, though Ryoma was unsure how much of that was actual “place-putting” and how much was confusion over the other guy’s showiness. It was almost embarrassing, really. He quite obviously had his team’s respect, but his personality…. Ryoma had met more tolerable brick walls.
“Yeah. Somehow, that doesn’t make me feel better.”
Number 88 waved the comment off. “Not to mention the fact,” he continued as if Momo hadn’t even spoken, “even if we knew we could trust you, we still can’t trust her.”
Momo frowned. “Don’t you guys have blackmail?” He huddled the girl closer protectively. Ryoma worried that the girl might suffocate.
“She might be dumb enough to tell anyway.” This, from the blue-capped boy from earlier.
The girl frowned at him, but didn't argue with him. She probably didn't want to start anything, Ryoma figured. The teen with the cap seemed eager to start a fight with her over anything and everything.
"What are you saying?" But, of course, Momo couldn't leave well enough to go. The girl may have been willing to let it drop, but Momo couldn't stand by and let anyone be bullied on his watch. It was an admirable trait, but in times like these, it could be extremely irritating.
"Momo-senpai. Let it rest."
The blue-capped teen talked right over Ryoma, irritating him further. "I'm saying if she was dumb enough to consider jumping off a cliff for Number One, then she might be dumb enough to turn all of us in even if it meant her own death along with ours."
Momo stood there, silent, for a moment. It seemed to take a bit to settle in. "You're saying that this Number One would kill all of you just because you're not happy with how he's running things?" He turned to the girl still pressed to his side. "And you would go and sacrifice yourself for this Number One? I know it ain't my place, but if this guy would kill you just for a little criticizing, then he ain't a very good leader."
She shook her head, avoiding his eyes. "It's not like that."
"It's not like what?" Momo didn't seem bothered by the girl's shyness.
She shook her head. "It's just not like that! It's not like that at all."
"And I'm asking you what it's not like? What are you talking about?"
"You all are so willing to...to make him the bad guy, but aren't you all the bad guys?" Her brown eyes were wide and watery when she looked up and, not for the first time since he arrived, Ryoma wondered what the hell this girl was even doing here. She was too...sensitive for these sorts of things. He wondered if they might be holding her hostage or something. But she seemed knowledgeable about the ways of her country. Even if she did have a twisted perspective of them. He supposed that number 88 had a good reason for keeping her here. He just wondered what that something was.
"Number One," she continued, "has helped our country. Number One provides. He helps. He...strengthens. He is a good leader. You all are just...." She took a breath. "You're villainizing him for things that aren't...that aren't fair."
Ryoma raised an eyebrow. He didn't know enough to actually jump in, but he couldn't help but feel a small amount of pity for this girl. Was this what number 88--in all his ridiculous arrogance--were fighting for? If all the occupants of this city were like this girl, it was no wonder he was willing to bring in two people who only might be foreigners to help. It was in a sad state, this town, if they were all as.... Ryoma searched for the right word. It almost seemed like she was delusional, brainwashed. It was eerie and more than a little creepy.
He watched the blue-capped teen closely. He almost expected him to go over and smack the girl upside the head or something. Not like Momo would even let him get close. But no. Instead, he simply took a stpe forward and stopped. "If you can look around at all this...if you can look at how humans used to be and honestly say that Number one is being fair about anything, then you're even dumber than I thought." He did not wait for her response. Instead, he simply turned on his heel and left the room.
"N-no, that's...." She tried to object, but she either couldn't think of the words to, or just couldn't bring herself to anymore. She slumped where she stood and Momo gave her a pitied expression before it stretched into his normal grin.
"Cheer up, girl, cheer up! That guy's not angry at you."
She looked like she didn't believe him. Ryoma didn't blame her.
"Hey, Pigtails." Her head turned towards him. "I wanted to ask this for a while, but...you're not a member of this group, right?"
Her expression told him everything. It was a mix of revulsion and confusion.
"So what are you doing here? Did you get lost?"
She shook her head. "Number 47 came to my window and brought me here."
"You were kidnapped?!" Momo's eyes widened as his voice rose.
"N-no! No! I wasn't!" She very emphatically denied. Interesting. "He just came and got me and brought me here."
"Did you want to go with him?"
"I...I didn't...not want to go."
For some reaosn, she avoided the eyes of everyone in the room. It interested Ryoma that she denied being taken by force when it was pretty clear that she disagreed with everything this group stood for. He wondered if she maybe had a prior relationship with number 47 and was brought here under false pretenses. Not that he really cared, he thought. It was just a little interesting. Certainly more interesting than standing around here doing nothing.
"So if you're not going to tell us anything until you trust us," Ryoma addressed number 88, "then how do we earn your trust?"
The other man was beginning to look a little bored with the whole thing, but he perked up at Ryoma's question--almost as if he'd been waiting for it. "Ah. Well. You'll just have to go on a mission for us."
"A mission?" Ryoma's and Momo's voices asked in harmony.