Categories > Anime/Manga > Yami no Matsuei > Absit Omen
Absit Omen
Part Three
by Rhea Logan
Voices hushed as Watari made his way through the enormous computer lab. Heads turned. Some of them nodded brief greetings, others only stared. Watari kept his face unreadable, nodding back, never slowing down his pace as he crossed the spacious room towards the office he'd once occupied.
Three months. Ninety seven days, to be more exact, during which they had grown to know him inside and out, far better than he could ever get to know /them/. New faces, new voices. He could almost hear that strange undertone, just barely there, as they spoke his name. He had yet to decide whether their sentiments towards him were anything like his own towards them. Neutral and nondescript when he was around - no doubt an order straight from above - their words betrayed nothing.
But their eyes said it all.
Their looks threatened to burn him. Curious eyes studied him when they thought he wasn't looking. In a mix of disgust and awe they watched him, as they had for months. Only now he watched them back, and the second their eyes met his, some turned; some fled.
He found some morbid kind of pleasure in blatantly staring back at the haughty ones. He didn't have to guess what that look did to them; it was enough to know what it once did to him as he met his own reflection in the mirror. It no longer scared him; disgust would be more like it, but by now he easily swallowed down on the initial urges to dwell on self-pity. He was who he was, even if it was no longer the self he felt most comfortable with.
Bouncing back and forth at the edges of his conscious mind, those thoughts that had once filled him with self-loathing and disgust now fueled up the fire that spurred him onward. It gave him strength; another purpose, now that he had left his old goals behind for others to deal with as they saw fit. For the time being, Watari found himself another goal.
He had put in for transfer with no particular destination in mind. The official response came back positive, under the condition that he remained within one of the offices of the EnmaCho. He had decided it was no hindrance to anything he had thus far planned to do. He knew Enma had only let him swap one leash in favor of another, albeit a longer one. It would have to do.
The Summons Division had looked suitable enough. They had a lab, to his best knowledge currently unoccupied, and a vacant spot for the Kinki area that had just been left unfilled. Watari had every right to suspect that the spot had been freed just for him, but he had long since put his foot down on any remorse in regards to that. Wherever he went, he still held more than enough of Enma's interest to ensure something would have to give to accommodate him and there was nothing he could do.
The blatant front of ignorance he had put up guaranteed a clear passage through the lab. Nobody stopped him as he entered the office that no longer belonged to him. He had requested that his personal work be returned to him, and had met no objections, much to his relief. He had yet to gather all that would leave along with him before that chapter of his afterlife was over.
He tried not to wonder whether it was over indeed, or to what extent. For the time being, it was nothing short of needless distraction. He needed no such things.
The muffled sounds of the commotion seeping from the main area of the laboratory he had once enjoyed were no longer just a welcome background noise. Now they carried connotations he resented; they swept in bitter waves around the corners of his mind. He knew he should have been oblivious to the new, unfamiliar voices ringing among the well-known tones of the people whose work he'd once overseen, but he wasn't. All the more loathsome, they seemed to mock him with their quiet whispers just behind his back.
The few personal belongings he had kept around the office had already been packed. It all fit in one small box that now sat on the desk. He had been told the files stored in his personal computer had been deleted; a blatant lie, that, but he decided not to make a fuss. The printouts had been made; they sat in thick piles next to the box, all five of them. Watari could only guess what was missing without looking through it, but he suspected he would have quite some holes in his work to patch up once he installed himself in the new place.
He didn't know how much work the Shokan Division would have for him to catch up with. The brief research he had done on it the week before revealed that his soon-to-be area was the slowest, with far fewer cases to work on than the others had. That pleased him; it would likely leave him with just enough time to focus on his other work.
He had wondered, once, what his departure from this place would look like, when it came to that. Whether Enma and the Five Generals would even let him go. He had been hopeful, back then, ready to place a fair amount of trust in the god that had granted him another chance and those people he had worked with towards the same goal. Looking back from the perspective of the past five years, he should have seen it coming. He had dismissed second thoughts when not all had added up. When he had accidentally run into requests that had not gone past his desk. When there had been arguments over the Project - some of them resulting in damage to more than the morals and pride - and the next day a new face came to replace whoever had dared to question the ethics of their work.
Watari had questioned it himself, time and again, yet never aloud and never for long. He had always believed that once you lost faith in the rightness of your work, you could no longer do it and that, back then, had not been high on the list of his options. He had let his world shrink and narrow down to Mother and Mother alone - to the point where he had turned a blind eye to everything that had felt wrong.
Hinote had told him he should have been glad. No one before him had ever pulled it off. Hinote himself, and a few others, had attempted to synchronize; to prove that the union of man and machine crossed the milestone past which the only limit to power was a financial one. But their failures had been numerous as they had been painful, for them and the Project itself. Watari had done it, yes; if only he had known what it really was they had been testing for. If only he had known what it would do to him. Somehow the weeks of painful recovery and the side effects he knew would drag behind him all along the paths of his afterlife had made the idea of happiness and accomplishment go right down the drain.
On some level he knew he wasn't supposed to have returned. Whether it was some dormant strength buried deep within him that had pulled him out, or the system itself that had finally rejected him, he couldn't tell. Now that he had quit, no one spoke to him. One day he would find out; for now, he could only guess. Yet the comments, the looks, the almost tangible smell of failure that lingered in the air told him he had hindered their plans more than they'd admit.
Much as he had devoted himself to the Project and had given it all he had, the decision to leave it turned out to have been far easier than he would have thought. Watari was one to bend the rules from the day he'd learned to walk and speak. But some rules, once broken, resulted in outcomes that were far too much.
They had taken away his choice. They had denied him the right to decide; whether for fear he wouldn't have taken the plunge, or for another reason, he no longer cared. Yet he found some bitterly amusing irony in their course of action. In Enma's orders, even, and the outcome he was leaving them to deal with now.
Had they asked his consent, Watari knew he wouldn't have held back. He'd been too far gone, too lost in the chase, in his own ambition and the glory of achievement that lay bare at his feet. He would have done it, would have sold himself as he had done once; much as he resented himself for knowing that beyond doubt. He had deemed it worthy of any sacrifice. Back then, he had.
Had they just asked. But they hadn't. In front of himself he didn't have to pretend that he wasn't glad. So much had changed. Watari wondered how many heads had rolled. The Five Generals took a collective tumble down and back to square one.
Watari pushed his glasses out of the way and brushed his gloved hands across his face. A part of him burned with loathing, another with shame. A part deep within had already started to mourn the loss. Of what, he wondered. Perhaps it mourned the lost chances he would never take. Perhaps.
It was time to leave, but he could not deny his own attachment to that office, the lab, his work, even those people as he looked around for what he knew could be the last time. For all the negative connotations the whole place now carried, the pang in his heart was there and it was real.
Dismissing those thoughts with a sigh, he picked up the printouts and folders from his desk, mentally correcting himself - his mind still refused to acknowledge that it no longer belonged to him. He told himself there was a new place awaiting him now - another desk, another lab, different people to work with. A different life.
He caught the tall pile of papers haphazardly in one hand, the small box in the other. Resisting the urge to look around again, he shook his head as he turned to leave. A step away from the door he came to a halt. He bowed his head. It was really over. Simply, just like that. He could hear the voices behind the door, the same noise as always. But today, he would step past the threshold and leave nothing in his wake.
All of a sudden the door opened Watari stepped back, avoiding collision barely by a thread. A fair share of papers slipped away from his hand. The paper whispered softly as it scattered across the floor.
A gasp of surprise escaped the girl in doorway an instant before she threw herself onto the floor to help.
"Chief... I'm so sorry," Akane stuttered, picking up the sheets and putting them back into the pile. "I didn't know Chief was here and--" she broke off as she took in the sight of the items he had carried. A sudden realization watered her warm, brown eyes.
"Chief..."
He sighed. "Watari," he corrected gently, offering a smile. He hoped it would soothe her. It seemed to have done the opposite.
"So it's true," she said quietly, lowering her gaze. "You're leaving."
Watari gave a small nod. "Yes. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I was just--"
"Chief... I mean, Watari-san..."
Something in the tone of Akane's voice made his heart skip a beat. He looked at her closely; her lips were trembling, as were her hands.
"Please, come back. We need you."
Watari closed his eyes for a short moment and bit down on his lower lip. "Akane," he said, rising to his feet. She took the hand he offered and stood there, in his eyes not quite sure what to do with herself. "I can't," he explained softly. "It's done, I'm being transferred to work somewhere else."
She gave her head a violent shake, her long dark hair tumbling down her arms, around her face. "It's not true. You'll be gone. Gone. Like the others."
Watari clenched his teeth, fingers curling around a pile of papers he held in his hands, crushing them. A wave of anger swept him down the well-known path again. Deep down, to where he had hidden both his pain and his hate; not for her, but for the others - with highlights for Enma - who didn't have the decency to deal with such things in a discreet enough way. He reached out his hand and lifted up her chin, wiping a cold tear away from her cheek.
"No, Akane. Eh, silly girl," he shook his head and forced himself to smile. "Don't worry. That's... not the way I'm leaving. I'll be working in the Summons Division from now on. No lies. I'll send you a postcard." He winked at her and offered one more smile, but his words seemed all but lost on her.
"Please," she whispered. "Come back."
The tears burning behind his own eyes threatened to spill. Watari braced himself and took a deep, calming breath. "I'm sorry," he said. "That's impossible."
Kneeling down to pick up the rest of the scattered memoirs of the past five years of his afterlife, Watari fought to keep himself in check. It would have been so much easier with no strings attached. So much easier to leave without further regrets. Without the knowledge that someone wanted him to stay and their reasons were pure.
Back on his feet, he secured the small box under his arm, grasped the sheets and folders tight in his other hand, and gave his former assistant a smile and a nod. "Take care, Akane. It's been a pleasure working with you. Thanks for everything."
With that he left the office, perhaps faster than necessary. With each long stride he tightened his grip on the items in his hands until his fingers grew numb. He never looked back as he left the lab and the door closed, leaving that... other afterlife behind.
He hadn't made it far before that door flung open again and Watari heard loud, quick steps against the marble floor.
"Watari-san!" Akane called out to him, breathless, as she ran through the wide hall. She stopped by his side, panting, her cheeks flushed.
Watari frowned. The girl waved her hand in a wordless plea to give her a moment so she could catch her breath.
"I knew you'd leave, I just didn't know when," she finally whispered, her words urgent and quick. "But you're not done yet, are you?" she looked up at him.
Her eyes burned with the same determination he'd been so fond of in her while she took on a challenge, back when they had worked together. His frown deepened; surely she couldn't have-
"You're not done. Don't ask how I know. You'll find out yourself," she said, shoving an envelope in between the piles he carried. "You'll need this. It's likely the last thing I'll ever do for you, so use it well." She looked up, blinking back unbidden tears. "Good luck, Chief," she said, quickly shaking her head before Watari could correct her again. She gave him a small smile, locking her eyes on his for a short, fleeting second. "No regrets."
Watari stood still, holding his breath. He said nothing as he watched Akane turn and start back towards the lab.
Part Three
by Rhea Logan
Voices hushed as Watari made his way through the enormous computer lab. Heads turned. Some of them nodded brief greetings, others only stared. Watari kept his face unreadable, nodding back, never slowing down his pace as he crossed the spacious room towards the office he'd once occupied.
Three months. Ninety seven days, to be more exact, during which they had grown to know him inside and out, far better than he could ever get to know /them/. New faces, new voices. He could almost hear that strange undertone, just barely there, as they spoke his name. He had yet to decide whether their sentiments towards him were anything like his own towards them. Neutral and nondescript when he was around - no doubt an order straight from above - their words betrayed nothing.
But their eyes said it all.
Their looks threatened to burn him. Curious eyes studied him when they thought he wasn't looking. In a mix of disgust and awe they watched him, as they had for months. Only now he watched them back, and the second their eyes met his, some turned; some fled.
He found some morbid kind of pleasure in blatantly staring back at the haughty ones. He didn't have to guess what that look did to them; it was enough to know what it once did to him as he met his own reflection in the mirror. It no longer scared him; disgust would be more like it, but by now he easily swallowed down on the initial urges to dwell on self-pity. He was who he was, even if it was no longer the self he felt most comfortable with.
Bouncing back and forth at the edges of his conscious mind, those thoughts that had once filled him with self-loathing and disgust now fueled up the fire that spurred him onward. It gave him strength; another purpose, now that he had left his old goals behind for others to deal with as they saw fit. For the time being, Watari found himself another goal.
He had put in for transfer with no particular destination in mind. The official response came back positive, under the condition that he remained within one of the offices of the EnmaCho. He had decided it was no hindrance to anything he had thus far planned to do. He knew Enma had only let him swap one leash in favor of another, albeit a longer one. It would have to do.
The Summons Division had looked suitable enough. They had a lab, to his best knowledge currently unoccupied, and a vacant spot for the Kinki area that had just been left unfilled. Watari had every right to suspect that the spot had been freed just for him, but he had long since put his foot down on any remorse in regards to that. Wherever he went, he still held more than enough of Enma's interest to ensure something would have to give to accommodate him and there was nothing he could do.
The blatant front of ignorance he had put up guaranteed a clear passage through the lab. Nobody stopped him as he entered the office that no longer belonged to him. He had requested that his personal work be returned to him, and had met no objections, much to his relief. He had yet to gather all that would leave along with him before that chapter of his afterlife was over.
He tried not to wonder whether it was over indeed, or to what extent. For the time being, it was nothing short of needless distraction. He needed no such things.
The muffled sounds of the commotion seeping from the main area of the laboratory he had once enjoyed were no longer just a welcome background noise. Now they carried connotations he resented; they swept in bitter waves around the corners of his mind. He knew he should have been oblivious to the new, unfamiliar voices ringing among the well-known tones of the people whose work he'd once overseen, but he wasn't. All the more loathsome, they seemed to mock him with their quiet whispers just behind his back.
The few personal belongings he had kept around the office had already been packed. It all fit in one small box that now sat on the desk. He had been told the files stored in his personal computer had been deleted; a blatant lie, that, but he decided not to make a fuss. The printouts had been made; they sat in thick piles next to the box, all five of them. Watari could only guess what was missing without looking through it, but he suspected he would have quite some holes in his work to patch up once he installed himself in the new place.
He didn't know how much work the Shokan Division would have for him to catch up with. The brief research he had done on it the week before revealed that his soon-to-be area was the slowest, with far fewer cases to work on than the others had. That pleased him; it would likely leave him with just enough time to focus on his other work.
He had wondered, once, what his departure from this place would look like, when it came to that. Whether Enma and the Five Generals would even let him go. He had been hopeful, back then, ready to place a fair amount of trust in the god that had granted him another chance and those people he had worked with towards the same goal. Looking back from the perspective of the past five years, he should have seen it coming. He had dismissed second thoughts when not all had added up. When he had accidentally run into requests that had not gone past his desk. When there had been arguments over the Project - some of them resulting in damage to more than the morals and pride - and the next day a new face came to replace whoever had dared to question the ethics of their work.
Watari had questioned it himself, time and again, yet never aloud and never for long. He had always believed that once you lost faith in the rightness of your work, you could no longer do it and that, back then, had not been high on the list of his options. He had let his world shrink and narrow down to Mother and Mother alone - to the point where he had turned a blind eye to everything that had felt wrong.
Hinote had told him he should have been glad. No one before him had ever pulled it off. Hinote himself, and a few others, had attempted to synchronize; to prove that the union of man and machine crossed the milestone past which the only limit to power was a financial one. But their failures had been numerous as they had been painful, for them and the Project itself. Watari had done it, yes; if only he had known what it really was they had been testing for. If only he had known what it would do to him. Somehow the weeks of painful recovery and the side effects he knew would drag behind him all along the paths of his afterlife had made the idea of happiness and accomplishment go right down the drain.
On some level he knew he wasn't supposed to have returned. Whether it was some dormant strength buried deep within him that had pulled him out, or the system itself that had finally rejected him, he couldn't tell. Now that he had quit, no one spoke to him. One day he would find out; for now, he could only guess. Yet the comments, the looks, the almost tangible smell of failure that lingered in the air told him he had hindered their plans more than they'd admit.
Much as he had devoted himself to the Project and had given it all he had, the decision to leave it turned out to have been far easier than he would have thought. Watari was one to bend the rules from the day he'd learned to walk and speak. But some rules, once broken, resulted in outcomes that were far too much.
They had taken away his choice. They had denied him the right to decide; whether for fear he wouldn't have taken the plunge, or for another reason, he no longer cared. Yet he found some bitterly amusing irony in their course of action. In Enma's orders, even, and the outcome he was leaving them to deal with now.
Had they asked his consent, Watari knew he wouldn't have held back. He'd been too far gone, too lost in the chase, in his own ambition and the glory of achievement that lay bare at his feet. He would have done it, would have sold himself as he had done once; much as he resented himself for knowing that beyond doubt. He had deemed it worthy of any sacrifice. Back then, he had.
Had they just asked. But they hadn't. In front of himself he didn't have to pretend that he wasn't glad. So much had changed. Watari wondered how many heads had rolled. The Five Generals took a collective tumble down and back to square one.
Watari pushed his glasses out of the way and brushed his gloved hands across his face. A part of him burned with loathing, another with shame. A part deep within had already started to mourn the loss. Of what, he wondered. Perhaps it mourned the lost chances he would never take. Perhaps.
It was time to leave, but he could not deny his own attachment to that office, the lab, his work, even those people as he looked around for what he knew could be the last time. For all the negative connotations the whole place now carried, the pang in his heart was there and it was real.
Dismissing those thoughts with a sigh, he picked up the printouts and folders from his desk, mentally correcting himself - his mind still refused to acknowledge that it no longer belonged to him. He told himself there was a new place awaiting him now - another desk, another lab, different people to work with. A different life.
He caught the tall pile of papers haphazardly in one hand, the small box in the other. Resisting the urge to look around again, he shook his head as he turned to leave. A step away from the door he came to a halt. He bowed his head. It was really over. Simply, just like that. He could hear the voices behind the door, the same noise as always. But today, he would step past the threshold and leave nothing in his wake.
All of a sudden the door opened Watari stepped back, avoiding collision barely by a thread. A fair share of papers slipped away from his hand. The paper whispered softly as it scattered across the floor.
A gasp of surprise escaped the girl in doorway an instant before she threw herself onto the floor to help.
"Chief... I'm so sorry," Akane stuttered, picking up the sheets and putting them back into the pile. "I didn't know Chief was here and--" she broke off as she took in the sight of the items he had carried. A sudden realization watered her warm, brown eyes.
"Chief..."
He sighed. "Watari," he corrected gently, offering a smile. He hoped it would soothe her. It seemed to have done the opposite.
"So it's true," she said quietly, lowering her gaze. "You're leaving."
Watari gave a small nod. "Yes. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I was just--"
"Chief... I mean, Watari-san..."
Something in the tone of Akane's voice made his heart skip a beat. He looked at her closely; her lips were trembling, as were her hands.
"Please, come back. We need you."
Watari closed his eyes for a short moment and bit down on his lower lip. "Akane," he said, rising to his feet. She took the hand he offered and stood there, in his eyes not quite sure what to do with herself. "I can't," he explained softly. "It's done, I'm being transferred to work somewhere else."
She gave her head a violent shake, her long dark hair tumbling down her arms, around her face. "It's not true. You'll be gone. Gone. Like the others."
Watari clenched his teeth, fingers curling around a pile of papers he held in his hands, crushing them. A wave of anger swept him down the well-known path again. Deep down, to where he had hidden both his pain and his hate; not for her, but for the others - with highlights for Enma - who didn't have the decency to deal with such things in a discreet enough way. He reached out his hand and lifted up her chin, wiping a cold tear away from her cheek.
"No, Akane. Eh, silly girl," he shook his head and forced himself to smile. "Don't worry. That's... not the way I'm leaving. I'll be working in the Summons Division from now on. No lies. I'll send you a postcard." He winked at her and offered one more smile, but his words seemed all but lost on her.
"Please," she whispered. "Come back."
The tears burning behind his own eyes threatened to spill. Watari braced himself and took a deep, calming breath. "I'm sorry," he said. "That's impossible."
Kneeling down to pick up the rest of the scattered memoirs of the past five years of his afterlife, Watari fought to keep himself in check. It would have been so much easier with no strings attached. So much easier to leave without further regrets. Without the knowledge that someone wanted him to stay and their reasons were pure.
Back on his feet, he secured the small box under his arm, grasped the sheets and folders tight in his other hand, and gave his former assistant a smile and a nod. "Take care, Akane. It's been a pleasure working with you. Thanks for everything."
With that he left the office, perhaps faster than necessary. With each long stride he tightened his grip on the items in his hands until his fingers grew numb. He never looked back as he left the lab and the door closed, leaving that... other afterlife behind.
He hadn't made it far before that door flung open again and Watari heard loud, quick steps against the marble floor.
"Watari-san!" Akane called out to him, breathless, as she ran through the wide hall. She stopped by his side, panting, her cheeks flushed.
Watari frowned. The girl waved her hand in a wordless plea to give her a moment so she could catch her breath.
"I knew you'd leave, I just didn't know when," she finally whispered, her words urgent and quick. "But you're not done yet, are you?" she looked up at him.
Her eyes burned with the same determination he'd been so fond of in her while she took on a challenge, back when they had worked together. His frown deepened; surely she couldn't have-
"You're not done. Don't ask how I know. You'll find out yourself," she said, shoving an envelope in between the piles he carried. "You'll need this. It's likely the last thing I'll ever do for you, so use it well." She looked up, blinking back unbidden tears. "Good luck, Chief," she said, quickly shaking her head before Watari could correct her again. She gave him a small smile, locking her eyes on his for a short, fleeting second. "No regrets."
Watari stood still, holding his breath. He said nothing as he watched Akane turn and start back towards the lab.
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