;; (extra) ordinary

     …Did she just fucking wink at me?  I have to be seeing things.  That shoulder of hers hasn’t gotten any less frigid.  I can’t make heads or tails of this girl.  Whatever.  Never had a grasp on kids my age anyway.

     “Considering I only bothered to show up for the entrance ceremony, I’m surprised you recognize me.  Then again, I imagine most of your time there is spent wishing you were an elite,” I say, setting my chopsticks down.

     I don’t envy her and poor saps like her, but they should know what they’re getting into.  Anyone can tell at a glance the Reserve Course is a raw deal.  The ludicrously high tuition is in no way justified by the exceedingly average high school education offered.  When I first heard about it, I thought the school board had lost their collective minds.  Nobody would be willing to pay that much just to go to school within the same square kilometer as a bunch of overspecialized oddballs.

     But lo and behold, the Reserve Course has every seat filled every year.  People willing to ruin themselves financially for the illusion of status; it’s pathetic.  Because the public has failed to save themselves, it’s fallen to me to take the choice out of their hands.

     We would never publicly admit as much but, my agency now classifies Hope’s Peak High School as a threat to our nation’s stability.  The fact of the matter is that a school shouldn’t have that much goddamned influence on a person’s future.  These Super High School Levels essentially get handed a golden ticket when they graduate.  It’s not unusual for an elite student to forgo attending university altogether and still be overwhelmingly successful.  Hope’s Peak is creating a new upper echelon of society.  That kind of affluence is the quickest means of creating domestic terrorists.  With the school planning an overseas expansion, this shit could go international and the last thing I need is some snooty Interpol agent asking me in broken Japanese why I didn’t nip this in the bud when I had the chance.  No, I’ve got to be the one to shut down Hope’s Peak.  With all the contracting work Towa’s done for them, raiding their servers was the best place to start.

     “So, Nanami-chan, you’ll have to forgive me, but I need you to at least act like you’re enjoying yourself.  A shitty date makes for a much less convincing cover story than a pleasant one.”

     I fiddle with the switches of the grill built into the table, preheating it so the meat won’t take half an hour to cook.  It won’t be the first meal I’ve shared with someone with ample reason to punch me in the throat, but I didn’t get in this line of work to make friends.  Luckily for her, she’ll never have to see me again once I’ve got her sworn to secrecy.

     Flipping up my menu and obscuring her from my vision, I scan the listings as I speak.  “Order whatever you like when the waiter gets back.  The taxpayers’ll pick up the tab.”

  She flinches at the accusation, back straight and eyes blinking rapidly. Her mouth opens as if to refute his statement, though she falls short and winds up with her attention towards the ground. 

  It isn’t for the basic reasons of guaranteed prosperity, a title, none of that. An image comes to mind: her, graceless in everything besides her words (and even then that quality is questionable), alluring in her mannerisms, a person that warms her semblance of a heart; it’s why she wants to be apart of that world, to be able to see her without sneaking around.

  The amount of money that pours in is astounding; why do so many people want to have this name on their documents? She doesn’t understand it and, if she’s honest, she probably never will. The funds go to talent research (she thought she overheard her name and ‘talent’ in a discussion yesterday, but she wasn’t entirely sure), something that feels useless in her eyes. 

  Prying open someone’s brain to find where their talent comes from is the only solution she can think of.

  Dates shouldn’t be hard to fake. After all, she has spent quite a bit of time with Junko... those count as dates, right? A smile doesn’t come on her face though, even with an attempt showing through by the twitch of her lips.

  Gaze shoots towards the menu before Nanami shakes her head, hands folding into her lap. Her voice is quiet when she speaks, avoiding eye contact with her new companion.

     She’s willing to work with me.  Good to know my luck isn’t entirely rotten today.

     I follow after her, keeping up the late boyfriend routine in front of the staff.  Within a few minutes, we’re escorted to a table that isn’t visible from the windows.  The smile I give the waiter as he leaves fades into a neutral frown as I turn my head to the menu.

     “My apologies.  Being a spook and being an asshole tend to have some overlap.”

     The din of general conversation you’d find in any populated eatery mixes with the hiss of meat being seared at each table.  This kind of ambiance would be perfect for thwarting listening devices.  Though, maybe now isn’t the best time to be thinking about potential problems.

     Without looking away from the menu, I reach into my jacket and pull my badge out far enough to be visible before sliding it back into place.  Even if I’m out of sight of the Towa goons, I’m still not in the clear.  It’s a safe to assume they’ll be asking the staff about me once I’m gone.  Better for them to be ignorant than rope everyone in here into maintaining my cover.  I’d like to minimize the public’s suffering to only the unlucky girl in front of me so long as that’s possible.

     “Hinata Hajime, Public Security Intelligence Agency.  I’m in the process of conducting an investigation vital to our country’s safety and require your cooperation.”

     My unenthusiastic spiel is overtaken once more in the facade I’ve created as the waiter returns.  I banter with him for a moment, excusing my partner’s reserved behavior as shyness.  He goes on his way after he receives our drink orders and the mask evaporates once more.

     “I’ll ensure you’re adequately compensated for any trauma, be it physical or mental.  Consider the meal a precursor to that,” I say across the table in a low voice, informing her of the civilian restitution policy while twirling a chopstick between my thumb and forefinger.  “So, you got a name?”

  If the interruption wasn’t enough of a problem, the fact that she’s stuck in a restaurant certainly is. How do you tell a total stranger that, no, you don’t actually eat because you don’t have a function for it? It’s not a question she can just use Google on, unfortunately.

  What a mess, not to mention the fact Junko will have zero ideas on what has just happened to her. Glancing backwards towards the door, Nanami lets out a soft sigh and sinks in her seat. Troublesome; being in the reserve course and being seen as normal should keep her out of situations like this.

  Silence meets his words, mind attempting to process what a ‘spook’ is. Both eyes shut for a moment, two quick taps of her wrist under the table bringing up an internet page behind her eyelids. Hey, maybe one of Junko’s random updates on her body will prove to be useful. The definition pulls up quickly - a spy - and one eye cracks open to study him before both open. 

  The badge catches her eye and, proven by the definition the internet gives her, he certainly is some sort of spy. Considering how much of a civilian he appears to be, she can definitely give compliments on filling the role of sneaking around and figuring things out without drawing attention. 

  Nanami listens, eyes shutting again once his name is spoken. A quick search and his name appears, highlighted in bold underneath a clear link to the website for Hope’s Peak Academy. Once the footsteps of the waiter draw away from the table, she settles in her chair with a straight back.

@nanonmi

     The crowd flows through the plaza, blissfully unaware of the security breach being addressed inside the Towa Group branch office.  One advantage to a silent alarm I suppose.  Other than not giving guys like me an indication I’ve been detected.

     For a moment I look back at the office balcony I leaped from to reach the roof I’m standing on now.  Not wasting any more time, I drop down into the alley two stories below.  Landing into a roll absorbs most of the impact and saves me from breaking an ankle.  After taking a moment to check for the thumb drive in my pocket and straighten my tie, I slip into the mass of people and do what I do best: disappear.

     Remain calm.  All you did was trip the alarm.  No one even saw your face while you were in there.  The guards aren’t going to suspect you were the one who broke in just because you’re a young guy in a suit standing outside the building.  After all, nobody saw you leap off that balcony.

     Oh fuck, beady eyes is getting suspicious.  What happened to being “so plain nobody would look at me twice?”  Keep it together.  Flash him a polite smile and then get moving like you’ve got somewhere to be.

     As the guard leaves his post in front of the building and begins wading through the crowd toward me, the service pistol in my jacket feels heavier.  I hate using the damn thing.  Having this many civilians around, it’d be especially unwise to try to force him to back off with it.  Even worse, flashing my badge at him now would only convince him I’m a threat that needs to be eliminated.  Unfortunately, the only play I’ve got is to go on pretending I’m a normal kid.

     So what would a normal kid be doing out in the business sector this late in the afternoon?  So… cializing?  Ugh, this is I don’t bother going to class.

     At that instant, a girl with a coral bob cut catches my eye.  She’s walking the opposite way with her eyes downcast, like even she’s not sure where she’s going.  Cute girl with low self-esteem, you don’t know it, but you’re doing your country a huge service.

     I intercept her, grabbing her hand and bringing her out of the crowd to the sidewalk in front of an eatery.  Putting on my smoothest smile, I quickly say a few words to her below my normal speaking volume.

     “This is a matter of national security, play along.”  It’s not a second before I’m finished with my explanation before I pull her into a gentle kiss.  Breaking from it just as quickly, I brush one of her bangs out of her face.  “Sorry for making you wait.  Dinner’s on me, okay?”

     Out of the corner of my eye, I see the guard visibly pause.  After a moment, he abandons his pursuit, walking back to his post with the occasional backwards glance.  I feel incredibly guilty forcing myself on some poor, innocent girl, but the Agency needs the information I have.  If I have to prostate myself in front of her to earn her forgiveness, I’ll do just that, but only when the operation isn’t at risk of being compromised.

     Still wearing my sweet expression, I pull open the door of what I now realize is a yakiniku joint and gesture for her to walk inside.

     I say to her under my breath again, “Head in, act natural.  I’ll explain while we eat.”

  A sigh.

  Here she is, lost deep in the business district of the city. Sure, her internal GPS got her there, but it’s certainly going haywire enough to not lead her back to school properly. The bag in her hand feels heavier than before, weighed down by the various pieces of computer equipment and programming material that Junko couldn’t drag herself out for. She supposes that’s the big downside to being so close to someone who is practically a NEET; oh well, in the end part of it might be for her own benefit anyhow.

   Head remains down, focusing more on the floor as she trudges along. Fingers shift to get a better grip on the bag, putting most of her energy into not dropping it on the ground. It’s only when her other hand is pulled away that she snaps back to reality, head lifting as she faces the person who just took hold of her.

    ‘National security’? She goes to ask, yet finds herself stopped for the second their lips meet and separate. Her expression is one of blatant surprise, eyebrows knit together and eyes wide as if something worse had happened. The strange attention brought onto her fills her with discomfort, unsure whether to pull away and flee to allow this stranger to deal with... whatever it is or to just stick it out.