Corpse March

Chapter 12

“I hired you to do one simple thing. ONE. SIMPLE. THING.”

“You may be entitled to full financial compensation for your troubles.”

“My troubles?! MY TROUBLES?! My troubles only exist because of your failures!”

Kuroko doesn’t so much as wince at the scientist’s fury. At some point, her tirade ended up as pointless static at the back of her mind. Whatever. No matter what happens now, whether the Monarchs execute her or if they simply throw her out in disdain, she couldn’t care less. It’s not that she’s making an effort to block out the noise, rather, it simply rolls off of her back like falling rain. Eventually, the downpour lightens into a drizzle, then from a drizzle to a drought. Tsumugi sinks into her throne, exhausted, defeated, deflated. 

“Go. I have to think about what to tell my adviser.”

“Thank you for your patronage, ma’am.”

“Just get out of my sight.”

Kuroko picks her briefcase off the ground with her mouth, her arms are still broken from this morning. They sway lifelessly at her side. Every so often, her arm shifts a millimeter and electricity courses through every single one of her bruised nerve endings. She feels her pain suppression pushed to their absolute limits. 

Silently, she makes her way out of the throne room, out into the hallway with its vein-like lights. Hulking juggernauts walk past, not bothering to give her or her arms the time of day. With great effort, she manages to contort her shoulders enough to push the call elevator button. A little saliva slips out of her mouth onto the floor. After a moment and with a little ‘ding’, the elevator doors slowly slide open. It’s almost funny. All this tech and their elevator still looks like any other elevator out there. 

After a solid minute, the elevator comes to a stop at the base of the skyscraper. Slowly, the doors slide open to reveal a swarming mass of steel. Armored Monarchs mill to and fro, papers in their hands. They all seem more interested in their research than looking at Kuroko. Walking even the short distance from the elevator to the transit platform feels a little something like crossing a highway during rush hour. 

Waiting for her at the gateway between the entrance and platform is the Monarch that brought her here in the first place. She was so welcoming when she first came here, now she just gives her the cold shoulder. Kuroko isn’t sure how but she can sense her frowning behind her helmet. Silently, she flicks her head to beckon for Kuroko to follow her. News of her failure seems to have traveled faster than she anticipated. 

They walk up the set of stairs onto the platform. A rush of air blows through Kuroko as one of the trains arrives. Huge, levitating things with rounded bottoms. Faster, cheaper, more fuel-efficient than domestic air travel, and you don’t even need rails. Tokyo bought enough of these for seven train lines last year and they’re probably going to buy even more. Kuroko wonders how long until her hometown gets a couple for themselves. The only one they have is the one that runs from there to this skyscraper and that’s only because it’s the closest town to civilization. Foot traffic’s going to be a pain in the ass once that happens, though. What with the number of people who’ll be wanting to go all the way to Tokyo in two or three hours for a hundred yen or so.  

It takes a minute or so for her train to arrive. With a hiss like a giant snake’s, a panel in its side unfurls into a set of stairs and a door for people to enter. Kuroko’s the only one who gets on. Everyone else has much nicer places to go to.  Like London or maybe the alps, probably. Maybe she should go too. It might be a nice vacation. But as soon as the idea crosses her mind her energy leaves her. What would she even do there? Just the effort of answering the question is exhausting so she just drops the thought entirely. For now, it’s time to go home. 

———————————————————————————————————————

Kuroko walks into classroom 2-B, otherwise known as Girls’ Won’t Cry’s headquarters, and sets her bag down. It’s nearly empty. It’s only natural. It’s a Wednesday afternoon. Late enough after the daily meeting so everyone else is probably either out on a job or relaxing at home. That is, save for one person. She glides over the floors, sweeping up dust and other debris into a dustpan. There’s a serene expression on her face, like there always is.

“I’m home, chief.”

“Oh my. What happened?”

She places her cleaning supplies off to the side and pulls up a desk-chair for Kuroko. 

“Difficult to explain. The Neo Magical Academy’s Student Council was involved.”

“I knew that mission was a bad idea…”

There’s a loophole in the confidential contracts that the courier department gives out. Though it says that they “hereby agree to not disclose any information to any outside parties”, the courier department that Kuroko’s a part of is technically only a subsidiary of the mercenary club meaning that they’re neither an inside nor outside party. Which means the courier department can broker information as much as they want without legal interference. Of course, legal involvement in club activities is another topic entirely but that’s something to be hotly debated another time.

“There were…”

She’s about to bring up Haru, but something stops her. The club’s a handful by itself, something tells her that she doesn’t need something else stressing her out. Kuroko can bring it up later. She’ll find a way. 

“...complications.”

“Sorry for bringing it up to you in the first place, kid.”

“I don’t mind.”

Kuroko flicks her chin at her arms.

“I barely felt it.”

“You worry me sometimes.”

The chief gives her one of her wry smiles as she walks over to a nearby closet. Reaching up to the top shelf, she brings out a big white box with a red cross on its lid. The club surgery kit. She sets it on the ground next to where Kuroko’s sitting. They both gulp down their saliva. What comes next is never pleasant. A rusty creak shreds Kuroko’s ear drums as the chief opens up the box and retrieves a scalpel, a pair of tongs, a small bowl to store her tools, and a spool of nylon for stitches. 

“Purification.”

Her voice is soft and gentle, like she’s coaxing the spell to life. The color of the tools takes on a fresh-looking sheen, as though they haven’t seen the inside and outside of her coworkers hundreds of times. 

“What’s the damage?”

“Severe bruising and fractured bone on left arm. I don’t think it’ll need to be treated, it’s already mostly healed. My right arm took the brunt of the damage. A shard was knocked out of alignment. It’ll have to be removed.”

Accelerated healing. It’s handy for keeping you in tip-top shape, but it has its limitations. One of which is that it likes to heal around debris. In those cases, the wound will have to be reopened to take it out. A singularity of pain awakens in the side of her arm as she lowers her pain suppression. 

“Around Here.”

“Alright.”

She pushes down on the skin and feels the eerie sensation of bone pressing against bone. Even with the pain suppression, it just feels wrong. The chief raises the scalpel and presses it against the side of her arm, in the spot where it bulges wrong just ever so slightly. 

“Deep breath.”

Before Kuroko can even open her mouth the scalpel is already forcing its way into her arm. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s still disconcerting to see herself being cut open. If she closes her eyes, it’s almost like there’s pulp in her flesh. There’s the eerily refreshing feeling of air brushing against the open wound. Blood trickles out onto a sterile cloth. This is going to take some time. 

“Where's Haru? I miss the sound of that guitar of hers.”

“Had a last minute career change.”

“...I see.”

The chief stops talking to focus on prying out the shard of bone. A little bit of it fused with the main bone as it healed. It falls out with a dull ‘clack’. Disgusting. At least it’s over now. After the operation, the wound will have to be closed. The chief pulls out an instrument that looks like a tongs, unravels a little nylon, and begins suturing the wound.

“Barrakuda?”

A rival mercenary club. Even after all mercenary clubs have been bought out by the government, they’re still trying to show Girls Won’t Cry up in terms of counter-terrorism. Show-offs. Not to say that Girls Won’t Cry is any less petty, of course.”

“Freelance.”

“Makes sense. She’s always been a free spirit, that girl. She probably had some kind of unknowable reason for doing what she did.”

“What do we do about her?”

“Hmmm… probably just get her to pay the Monarchs their compensation fee.”

“That’s all?”

“I’m almost definite–”

She cuts off as she tightens the first knot around the first suture.

“–that we can throw everything we have at that girl and she still wouldn’t learn her lesson.”

“Hm…”

“That’s the difference between you both, you see. You’re stuck in the past, Haru has no place in the present. Simple as that.”

Kuroko nods silently as the chief finishes the second, third, then fourth and then the fifth suture. Already, her skin is beginning to close around the stitching. 

“I’m sure she’ll come around. Maybe not now, maybe not tomorrow–”

Her little monologue is rudely interrupted by a shrill “Rrrrrring” sound. The telephone. She sighs. 

“Sorry, Kuroko, would you mind taking over?”

“Sure.”

The chief passes Kuroko the needle and wipes her hands on the cloth. Silently, Kuroko continues suturing the incision shut using her mouth. Is it sterile? Probably not, but she places her trust in the purification. All the while, the chief chats away on the phone. She has that peppy, upbeat, but still reliable saleswoman voice she puts on for all customers.