Categories > Anime/Manga > Yami no Matsuei > Absit Omen
Absit Omen
Part Four
by Rhea Logan
To his mild surprise, Watari found his new apartment ready for him to move in to, his belongings already in it; packed in labeled, nondescript boxes left in neat rows in the living room. His rent had been paid, too; three months ahead. The landlord asked no questions as he handed Watari a set of keys and headed back for the exit, though not before he inclined his head in a polite bow and expressed hope that he would find the place to his liking.
Watari thanked him, carefully wiping all signs of surprise and suspicion from his countenance. He briefly pondered the idea to ask who had made the arrangements in his stead, but he suspected the landlord either didn't know, or he wouldn't tell. Whichever the case, Watari had a list of ideas of his own as to who had made sure they knew where he was to keep an eye on him.
He pushed away the thoughts of the endless possibilities several entities, Enma DaiOh among them, had to watch him even now. Curiosity killed the cat, or so went the proverb, and even though satisfaction brought it back, it worked best in its due time.
As soon as the landlord left and the door closed behind him, Watari put away the items be had brought with him on the small, low table in the middle of the room and made a careful study of the place. Furnished rather sparsely, it could suit anyone and left the choice of decorations to him to take care of at a later time, if he so chose. Not that he cared much. He did not suppose he would be spending much time there, anyway.
He spent most of the day unpacking the boxes. With no scheduled work and too much time on his hands, he found that he had to make a conscious effort to slow down, so as not to end up with nothing to do again. He didn't own much, but seeing it all could easily fit in one car brought a small smile to his lips. Some things never changed, not even after one's death. He could get up and leave at any given time, as he had done in life, and in the span of an hour move someplace else. No strings attached.
A further study of the apartment revealed that someone had made sure he didn't need to worry about food supplies. Tea and coffee in the kitchen cupboards, painkillers in the bathroom. A stock of fresh towels and bed sheets he didn't recall having before. He moved around without haste, getting used to the new surroundings and trying to flip a mental switch to remind himself that he had to work in a different mindset, now. He still had the habit of mentally scheduling the usual work he had done for five years. Now that came off the list with a frown and a shake to his head. He would be a guardian of death now - Shinigami, as some people called them - and he'd better got it through to himself, as soon as he could.
-
The late evening found Watari sitting on the Western-style couch in his new living room, wrapped in a thick blanket. He cradled a steaming mug of coffee in his hand, looking through the files he had brought. As he had thought, a lot of it was missing, but he noticed - not without a hint of satisfaction - that he still remembered most of what was gone. Recreating it would take time, but he knew he could do it once he put his mind to it.
Between a set of blueprints and old reports, he found an envelope; the one Akane had shoved in there just before he left. A sudden unease brushed at his thoughts. The strange sense of urgency, rather out of character for her, and her words came flooding back. He tore open the envelope and pulled out what he found inside.
Three diskettes and a piece of paper. A quick look at the content made his heart skip a beat, breath catching in his throat. His eyes slid shut. The hand that held the paper fell limply onto his lap. He let the air out in a long sigh and shook his head, half in shock, half in disbelief.
Impressive coding, Chief. Did you always know you'd need it?
That's all I managed to save. I hope it's enough. You'll find the
rest once you're in. Make sure to grab the reports while you're
at it, Hinote's in particular. I think you'll find them interesting.
Good luck,
Kasaya Akane
P.S. No regrets.
The rest of the message listed every access code that had been changed after he had put in for transfer. Entry and security codes, description of the new algorithm responsible for generating the 108 mainframe core passwords ahead of schedule, everything. Still shaking his head, Watari swallowed around a sudden dryness in his throat.
How did she know? He tried to remember if he had ever let it slip. He knew it must have been a slim chance, but he could not be sure - he couldn't trust himself not to have spilled in a half-conscious state, couldn't trust them not to have listened in on him around the clock, couldn't trust Mother not to have-
It's the last thing I'll ever do for you.
The full gravity of Akane's words brought a heavy realization that dawned upon him like a bucket of cold water. She had put her life at stake, and she'd lit the fire herself. She must have known she would be found out. Sooner or later, whether he used it or not, her entry would come up in Mother's logs, and once Hinote knew... Enma...
Good luck, Chief.
"Bloody idiot..." he whispered under his breath. Inside he was trembling. He pushed his glasses up into his hairline and squeezed his eyes shut, then rubbed at them with his fingers. His heart pounded hard in his chest.
Use it well.
Throwing the blanket away, Watari powered to his feet and walked to the computer on the desk across the room. It was his own machine, although completely purged. Having checked the system for keyloggers and all other spy programs he could think of, he set to download the files Akane had managed to salvage from his old hard drives. He smiled as he looked through them, although the screen kept blurring in front of his eyes.
He had not anticipated help. He had not asked for it. It was his private war, his unfinished business. He would have no one involved, had it been his choice, but he knew it no longer was. Logic and intuition. Courage. And a total lack of self-preserving instinct. Watari smiled sadly to his thoughts. What the hell possessed you?
He left the computer running, out of habit, as he pushed himself up from the chair and shoved the disks into the back pocket of his jeans. He picked up a warm pullover from the couch before he left the room and put it on top of the black turtleneck he was already wearing. Grabbing his trench coat from the coat stand he stormed out, the door shutting behind him with a loud thud.
Halfway down the dimly lit hallway, the landlord watched the new blonde hurry past him with a furrowed brow. Watari gave him an apologetic smile - automatic, feigned, but somehow warm nonetheless. Running down the stairway he let his hair loose, pulling at the strands that caught under his coat and fished in his pocket for a hair tie. Once he got the golden mass secured in a hastily made braid, he looked at his wristwatch. The hour had grown late, but that was only to his advantage. If his former co-workers hadn't changed their habits, which he highly doubted they had, past eleven most of the building would be empty.
He had not intended to carry out the plan he had clung to for the past five weeks so soon. By his careful estimation, it would have taken up to three months to retrieve the codes necessary to get in. With the access he had - both on the levels the scientists down there knew and did not know about - it would still be tricky, though not impossible. Now that he had the codes - all of them committed to memory by the time he reached his destination - he could only hope they were still valid, that it was not too late.
He dreaded the thought that Akane's brave stunt could turn out to have been a waste.
It was a waste anyway, he knew. He could have done it himself.
He sighed, chiding his mind for letting him stray that way. Guilt was a distraction; succumbing to it now meant that he ran all the greater risk of error. And something told him he only had one try.
-
As Watari made his way through the long corridors in the deep underground levels of the building, he focused on repeating his plan of action step by every carefully thought-out step; more out of need to calm down his nerves than out of necessity. The risk of running into changes employed during the past four months had not seemed that great. Much as he knew the Five Generals collectively and each on their own would have liked to rely on a system that would keep him out, he was also sure they had enough common sense to realize there was no better security system than the one Watari himself had devised. While a system that could not be breached had yet to be created, attempting to hack into Mother, which controlled everything - from restricted area doors to the protective shields around Meifu - cracked the fine border between reason and madness on the attempter's part.
Forcing the use of virtual reality as the entry gate, the system engaged the hacker in a wild sequence of mind games at a sanity-threatening speed. Exploiting fears, desires, turning strength into weakness and weakness into paralyzing traps inside their own mind, the Mother was a playground from hell. Skill was far less than enough to break through the hundred and seven traps, one point seven of them per second, no less.
But his personal favorite had always been the last one. The simplest of them all, it was the most brilliant. Exploiting every human being's primal instinct to run if sudden danger occurred, the system informed the hacker that he had failed, even if he hadn't. It left the poor fool forever wondering what had gone wrong, always watching his back in fear he would be found, successfully preventing him from ever trying again.
Watari smirked to himself as he punched in the entry codes and let himself into the main lab. He had not been wasting time in the past five years. He would miss it; the challenge, the illusion-driven games one on one with Mother, their unique hide and seek on the highest level with his pride at stake.
But the gain was no longer worth the price. He had never intended for his creations to be used in such ways as Enma had planned. And he wouldn't let him have it.
Part Four
by Rhea Logan
To his mild surprise, Watari found his new apartment ready for him to move in to, his belongings already in it; packed in labeled, nondescript boxes left in neat rows in the living room. His rent had been paid, too; three months ahead. The landlord asked no questions as he handed Watari a set of keys and headed back for the exit, though not before he inclined his head in a polite bow and expressed hope that he would find the place to his liking.
Watari thanked him, carefully wiping all signs of surprise and suspicion from his countenance. He briefly pondered the idea to ask who had made the arrangements in his stead, but he suspected the landlord either didn't know, or he wouldn't tell. Whichever the case, Watari had a list of ideas of his own as to who had made sure they knew where he was to keep an eye on him.
He pushed away the thoughts of the endless possibilities several entities, Enma DaiOh among them, had to watch him even now. Curiosity killed the cat, or so went the proverb, and even though satisfaction brought it back, it worked best in its due time.
As soon as the landlord left and the door closed behind him, Watari put away the items be had brought with him on the small, low table in the middle of the room and made a careful study of the place. Furnished rather sparsely, it could suit anyone and left the choice of decorations to him to take care of at a later time, if he so chose. Not that he cared much. He did not suppose he would be spending much time there, anyway.
He spent most of the day unpacking the boxes. With no scheduled work and too much time on his hands, he found that he had to make a conscious effort to slow down, so as not to end up with nothing to do again. He didn't own much, but seeing it all could easily fit in one car brought a small smile to his lips. Some things never changed, not even after one's death. He could get up and leave at any given time, as he had done in life, and in the span of an hour move someplace else. No strings attached.
A further study of the apartment revealed that someone had made sure he didn't need to worry about food supplies. Tea and coffee in the kitchen cupboards, painkillers in the bathroom. A stock of fresh towels and bed sheets he didn't recall having before. He moved around without haste, getting used to the new surroundings and trying to flip a mental switch to remind himself that he had to work in a different mindset, now. He still had the habit of mentally scheduling the usual work he had done for five years. Now that came off the list with a frown and a shake to his head. He would be a guardian of death now - Shinigami, as some people called them - and he'd better got it through to himself, as soon as he could.
-
The late evening found Watari sitting on the Western-style couch in his new living room, wrapped in a thick blanket. He cradled a steaming mug of coffee in his hand, looking through the files he had brought. As he had thought, a lot of it was missing, but he noticed - not without a hint of satisfaction - that he still remembered most of what was gone. Recreating it would take time, but he knew he could do it once he put his mind to it.
Between a set of blueprints and old reports, he found an envelope; the one Akane had shoved in there just before he left. A sudden unease brushed at his thoughts. The strange sense of urgency, rather out of character for her, and her words came flooding back. He tore open the envelope and pulled out what he found inside.
Three diskettes and a piece of paper. A quick look at the content made his heart skip a beat, breath catching in his throat. His eyes slid shut. The hand that held the paper fell limply onto his lap. He let the air out in a long sigh and shook his head, half in shock, half in disbelief.
Impressive coding, Chief. Did you always know you'd need it?
That's all I managed to save. I hope it's enough. You'll find the
rest once you're in. Make sure to grab the reports while you're
at it, Hinote's in particular. I think you'll find them interesting.
Good luck,
Kasaya Akane
P.S. No regrets.
The rest of the message listed every access code that had been changed after he had put in for transfer. Entry and security codes, description of the new algorithm responsible for generating the 108 mainframe core passwords ahead of schedule, everything. Still shaking his head, Watari swallowed around a sudden dryness in his throat.
How did she know? He tried to remember if he had ever let it slip. He knew it must have been a slim chance, but he could not be sure - he couldn't trust himself not to have spilled in a half-conscious state, couldn't trust them not to have listened in on him around the clock, couldn't trust Mother not to have-
It's the last thing I'll ever do for you.
The full gravity of Akane's words brought a heavy realization that dawned upon him like a bucket of cold water. She had put her life at stake, and she'd lit the fire herself. She must have known she would be found out. Sooner or later, whether he used it or not, her entry would come up in Mother's logs, and once Hinote knew... Enma...
Good luck, Chief.
"Bloody idiot..." he whispered under his breath. Inside he was trembling. He pushed his glasses up into his hairline and squeezed his eyes shut, then rubbed at them with his fingers. His heart pounded hard in his chest.
Use it well.
Throwing the blanket away, Watari powered to his feet and walked to the computer on the desk across the room. It was his own machine, although completely purged. Having checked the system for keyloggers and all other spy programs he could think of, he set to download the files Akane had managed to salvage from his old hard drives. He smiled as he looked through them, although the screen kept blurring in front of his eyes.
He had not anticipated help. He had not asked for it. It was his private war, his unfinished business. He would have no one involved, had it been his choice, but he knew it no longer was. Logic and intuition. Courage. And a total lack of self-preserving instinct. Watari smiled sadly to his thoughts. What the hell possessed you?
He left the computer running, out of habit, as he pushed himself up from the chair and shoved the disks into the back pocket of his jeans. He picked up a warm pullover from the couch before he left the room and put it on top of the black turtleneck he was already wearing. Grabbing his trench coat from the coat stand he stormed out, the door shutting behind him with a loud thud.
Halfway down the dimly lit hallway, the landlord watched the new blonde hurry past him with a furrowed brow. Watari gave him an apologetic smile - automatic, feigned, but somehow warm nonetheless. Running down the stairway he let his hair loose, pulling at the strands that caught under his coat and fished in his pocket for a hair tie. Once he got the golden mass secured in a hastily made braid, he looked at his wristwatch. The hour had grown late, but that was only to his advantage. If his former co-workers hadn't changed their habits, which he highly doubted they had, past eleven most of the building would be empty.
He had not intended to carry out the plan he had clung to for the past five weeks so soon. By his careful estimation, it would have taken up to three months to retrieve the codes necessary to get in. With the access he had - both on the levels the scientists down there knew and did not know about - it would still be tricky, though not impossible. Now that he had the codes - all of them committed to memory by the time he reached his destination - he could only hope they were still valid, that it was not too late.
He dreaded the thought that Akane's brave stunt could turn out to have been a waste.
It was a waste anyway, he knew. He could have done it himself.
He sighed, chiding his mind for letting him stray that way. Guilt was a distraction; succumbing to it now meant that he ran all the greater risk of error. And something told him he only had one try.
-
As Watari made his way through the long corridors in the deep underground levels of the building, he focused on repeating his plan of action step by every carefully thought-out step; more out of need to calm down his nerves than out of necessity. The risk of running into changes employed during the past four months had not seemed that great. Much as he knew the Five Generals collectively and each on their own would have liked to rely on a system that would keep him out, he was also sure they had enough common sense to realize there was no better security system than the one Watari himself had devised. While a system that could not be breached had yet to be created, attempting to hack into Mother, which controlled everything - from restricted area doors to the protective shields around Meifu - cracked the fine border between reason and madness on the attempter's part.
Forcing the use of virtual reality as the entry gate, the system engaged the hacker in a wild sequence of mind games at a sanity-threatening speed. Exploiting fears, desires, turning strength into weakness and weakness into paralyzing traps inside their own mind, the Mother was a playground from hell. Skill was far less than enough to break through the hundred and seven traps, one point seven of them per second, no less.
But his personal favorite had always been the last one. The simplest of them all, it was the most brilliant. Exploiting every human being's primal instinct to run if sudden danger occurred, the system informed the hacker that he had failed, even if he hadn't. It left the poor fool forever wondering what had gone wrong, always watching his back in fear he would be found, successfully preventing him from ever trying again.
Watari smirked to himself as he punched in the entry codes and let himself into the main lab. He had not been wasting time in the past five years. He would miss it; the challenge, the illusion-driven games one on one with Mother, their unique hide and seek on the highest level with his pride at stake.
But the gain was no longer worth the price. He had never intended for his creations to be used in such ways as Enma had planned. And he wouldn't let him have it.
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