"Um, there's nothing up there. Sorry."

I turned.

The last time I'd been in the National Library, Kuwabara and Yuusuke were with me -- why, I forget. One or the other's school project, no doubt. I retain from the experience the faces of a number of prim, hissing lady librarians, all of whom failed utterly to strike it off with our group (something about not throwing books). The young woman before me fit none of my recollections. For one thing, she was young -- near my age -- and sported wavy purple hair in a bob, along with an expression more amused than disapproving. But she wore a name tag pinned to the front of her sensible flowered dress, so I supposed that to settle it.

"I'm sorry," I said, "but the map says the book I'm trying to find is located in a room there. I called up the number on the computer system."

She blinked at me. "That's funny. Could I see that?"

I handed her the scrap of paper. She pored over it, batting her bangs away from over one eye. "Three-forty-two... oh, I see. That's the section that got destroyed in a fire a year or so back." She looked up. "You remember that, maybe? It was in the papers. They lost some invaluable collections here."

"But that's impossible," I said. "An... acquaintance of mine had the book out only a couple of months ago. Maybe you've seen him around --" I glanced at the name tag -- "Takemiya-san? A friend of a friend, named Yuuki. He comes here often to do research."

Unexpectedly, she started to laugh.

"That's an amazing story," I said. "If you don't mind me saying so."

"I'm glad someone thinks that." Takemiya's fingers danced over neatly aligned book-spines. "The way the cops went on about it, you would have thought I was the suspect. The Yuuki sibs hopped in the ambulance with their friends, so I took the brunt. Lucky me." She pursed her mouth. "Not here either. Now I'm really frustrated."

"You really know your way around, though," I said, feeling vaguely silly. I'd been trailing after Takemiya up elevators, down service stairs, around reserve stacks, through reading rooms and into the most dusty and out-of-the-way archives I could have thought possible. It was an impressive exercise: she seemed to have the contents of each shelf down by heart.

She gave me a sweet smile. "You could petition them to pay me more. Then maybe the cops'll stop harassing me."

"Ah..."

"Actually, history was my major in college too. And Minamino-san?"

"I work at my father's firm." It had been a surprise announcement at the time: everyone'd somehow assumed I was going to be a botanist, Kaasan included. Never mind that I would have made a very bad researcher by ningen standards. Plants respond to my wishes, my very proximity -- even the most untamed Makai strains. Kaasan's potted tomatos had been the envy of the apartment building for years without any conscious effort on my part, other than emotional goodwill. So much for unbiased experimentation.

Of course, within a year of starting work, I was being sent to polish up my accountancy skills through a series of evening classes. It felt as if I were being groomed for some position. Not that I'd be the one to complain about nepotism: I'd had little enough of that sort of advantage in my life.

"Well, you've caught me out on a limb." Takemiya sighed. "This was the last place your book could have been sorted into. I mean, it's probably still somewhere in the building, but if it's on some random shelf..."

"I see," I said. "Is there anywhere I can find another copy? Yuuki-san told my friend it's not in the university library."

She tapped a finger against her lips. "Well, there's one other place which is a good bet."

***

"A librarian, hmm?"

Fujii looked disgusted. "Specs came up on the missing-persons roster, of all places. His wife hasn't heard from him in six weeks. Guess I'm not the one who's going to be breaking the news..."

"Previous record?"

"A blank. No violence, no indecency, not so much as an unpaid traffic ticket. Though it's definitely him. When he woke up in the wagon he told us about the body of the old lady in the alley behind Chiquitas. We found her afterwards, all laid out the way he said, and practically still warm. Masada's upstairs talking to the lab rats about blood-sampling his clothes, but there's not much doubt." Fujii ran his palm over his bald pate in what Saitoh had always considered an annoying tic. "I hate these types. Sir. No way of catching hold of them outside of blind luck, and even then you can't get them behind bars because they can't see sanity on a clear day. You should see the piece of work."

"I intend to," Saitoh said, and opened the door.

The man sat on the opposite side of a table, flanked by two junior officers, his cuffed hands folded before him. He raised his head as Saitoh entered.

"Hajimemashite," he remarked, and smiled. He looked quite ordinary; Fujii's report pegged him as a karate black belt in his younger days, but it didn't show now.

The eyes were mad, of course.

Saitoh glanced at the other officers. "Dismissed," he ordered curtly, and they filed out. As the soundproof door swung closed, he leant back against the wall and lit himself a cigarette.

"You've refused to elaborate on your motives," he said.

The man merely smiled at him. "You first."

Saitoh regarded him a moment. "Watanabe-san... isn't it?"

The man nodded confirmation.

"Very well. This is... not a game, Watanabe-san." Saitoh tapped his ash on the floor, trustful of the janitorial staff. "You're in police custody, and will be for some time to come. I'm willing to believe that Masada hasn't threatened you overly. I, however --" Saitoh smiled unpleasantly -- "am not the good cop."

Watanabe's amiable expression faltered only slightly under the full brunt of the golden gaze. "He said not to. None of you understand."

"Really."

They held each other's eyes for another long moment, then Watanabe broke away and giggled.

"Yes, I see," he said. "How nice. How very nice. Maybe this is fated too." He glanced toward the side, and the smile slowly slipped off his face. "It would be nice... I haven't rested in a long time. A very long time. I'd rather like to see my wife."

"Connections," said Saitoh. "When did you meet him?"

Watanabe's head jerked back. "Meet whom?"

"Akaishi. Dr. Akaishi Kentarou. Or would that be Himura? Either name will do."

The man stared at him, and smiled again. Saitoh repressed the urge to wipe the maddening expression off his face in the most violent manner possible, and took a deep drag on his cigarette.

"It would be insulting to both of us to give a physical description," he said.

"Oh, I can't get over it," said Watanabe. "You really believe in it, don't you?"

"Excuse me?"

He made a gesture that seemed designed to include the entire room, but was curtailed by the handcuffs about his wrists. "All this. This... little world of yours. Your past. You, standing there talking to me. Surely you know this isn't really your place?" The smile widened. "Surely you know it isn't real?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"You will. I know you when I see you, you know. The Shadowless showed me how. I knew that girl in the club." Watanabe shook his head slowly from side to side, like a bull trying to loosen a rope around its neck. "Lucky for her I could stop him. Not lucky for me, though. And he can't kill you here. It's the wrong time, isn't it -- my lord of the forest?" And he began to giggle again, high-pitched laughter that sounded almost like choking.

"Let me talk to him," Saitoh said.

The giggles died abruptly. "You can't."

Saitoh simply looked at him.

"You can't," said Watanabe, his voice going up an octave suddenly with what seemed like fear. "You... I don't know what he'll do to me. I don't --"

Inhale, exhale. "I don't think it's your choice."

Watanabe's eyes went wide, and he slumped over.

Minutes passed.

Saitoh lit another cigarette from the butt of the previous one, and waited.

Eventually Watanabe stirred and pushed himself off the table. Saitoh watched, expressionless, as the librarian leant back in his chair and folded his hands in his lap. Finally he looked up.

"Saitoh-san," he said.

The eyes were perfectly sane.

***

"Niisan? What are you doing here?"

I shrugged and smiled at his puzzled look. "Waiting for you."

Shuuichi blinked at me. "But you must have taken the train!"

"I had some business to take care of." Which was true; Shuuichi's school was on my return route from the Library. Not to mention the fact that after yesterday, I had to make sure my territory still belonged to me. "So I thought I'd drop by, see you home and stay for dinner. Spur of the moment thing..."

"Oh, that would be great!" A passing student called out a goodbye, and Shuuichi turned to respond. Then sighed, rubbing at his temple.

"Headache?" I asked as we left the school gate.

"Yeah." Shuuichi shrugged ruefully. "Well, you know, exams --"

"It's that time of the year, isn't it? I still remember the stress-out."

"Uhuh." Shuuichi gave me a rather doubtful look, which served to remind me of the gap between our respective averages. Then he shrugged. "Well, the work itself is going okay, I guess, all except the Classical Japanese, but I'm losing sleep like crazy. When I do manage to hit the futon I dream of little equations going round and round, swear. Freaking headache won't go away anymore."

I opened my mouth to say something properly concerned, but Shuuichi suddenly caught himself and grinned. "But I can handle it. So don't tell the parents, 'kay? It'd just be a drag if they worried." He looked down at the sidewalk then, and there was silence for a few moments.

"Niisan?"

"Yes?"

"Ever wonder if any of this is worth the trouble? Like, what difference it makes that you're doing what you're doing?"

I considered him. Shuuichi was less energetic than I'd ever seen him. We'd only lived in the same house for half a year or so before I moved out, but he'd adopted me as his older brother with enthusiasm, to the point of making me regret my inability to play the role properly. Shuuichi probably deserved someone less perpetually wrapped in layers of reserve.

All the more so since that reserve was essential around him.

"Yes," I said finally. "But my answers aren't yours. You're the one who has to look at the path you're on, see if it's leading where you want to go and choose whether or not to keep on walking. And before that you have to decide where it is you do want to go. I'm not telling you to ignore what the rest of the world has to say about it, but you answer for the consequences, after all."

Shuuichi wrinkled his nose. "Is it really about one big choice?"

"Sometimes it is. You'd be surprised."

Shuuichi shrugged again, not entirely convinced by the look of it. I stared straight ahead of me as we descended the street toward the train station, but I could track him just as well without glancing. It happened precisely when he was in thought like this, I'd found: too preoccupied to be perfectly attentive. His aura spread then, and took on the clarity and brightness of a sensitized ningen. Most likely a legacy from his mother's side.

It was at these moments that I had to take care.

***

The disk glinted in its clear plastic casing as Botan held it out.

"DVD," said Yuusuke. "Reikai's upgraded."

The blue-haired spirit guide wrinkled her nose. "Bara made Koenma watch Ring the other day, and he hasn't touched a videocassette since. I never told you, of course."

"Maa," Yukina said mildly.

"We think he'll get over it eventually. Nice excuse to go digital, though. Where's Kurama and Hiei? They should be here for this too."

"Kurama was supposed to go to the library today," said Yuusuke, "but he's not there now, and his pager's like conked. Hiei's... around."

"The usual," said Shizuru. "We've broadcast a call. Do you think we should wait?"

Botan looked at her feet, her expression uncommonly serious. "No," she said finally. "We'll brief them."

"So are we watching this or what?" asked Kuwabara.

Against all expectations, Koenma was not in his child-form. He wasn't at his desk, either. The junior God of the Dead lounged in what appeared to be a lawn chair on a sun deck, holding a glass of something fruity-looking. He was wearing a linen suit, sandals and -- Yuusuke blinked -- very large sunglasses.

The pacifier was nowhere in sight.

"What the hell?" said Kuwabara succinctly. Shizuru shushed him.

"Konnichi wa, minna. Botan's just brought your report to my attention."

"I'd like to know what you've got on it," Yuusuke muttered.

"It's the first intimation we've had of any such turn of events in the Inner Makai, and I rather wish Hiei had given us a detailed breakdown himself..."

"Thought the Reikai had agents in the Makai," said Kuwabara.

"...Since he's the closest we've got to an agent in the lower levels. Which is not very close." Koenma took a sip from his drink. "Budget limitations being what they are, the Reikai's operations function more as a palliative than as a preventive. We start to worry about them when they start making problems at the surface."

"Hear, hear," Yuusuke muttered again.

"The present crisis, however, is particularly disturbing in that it mirrors a similar problem in the Reikai. Abnormal fluctuations have been reported in the structures of and divisions between the afterworlds, leading in some cases to near-collapse. Since they're not within my direct jurisdiction, we've contented ourselves with keeping things under observation, but the past months have only exacerbated the condition."

Yuusuke looked at Botan, who nodded. "The Reikai bureaucracy only funnels souls through. The afterworlds were set up a long time ago by Enma Daioh himself, and they're supposed to be self-regulatory. Koenma-sama can't do a thing about it."

"The second set of disturbing circumstances involves the writings you mentioned. The name Mukage is unknown in Reikai record. There does exist, however, a sizable body of treatises and interpretative texts surrounding the 'Lay of Nine,' which appears to be a prophetic work dating back to the Ningenkai Neolithic. The archival index runs to dozens of entries, including a copy of the prophecy itself. The books themselves... seem to be missing."

Shizuru whistled.

Botan looked rueful. "We were at it for hours. That section's very well-organized -- you can see the space on the shelf where the books used to be, but there aren't any records of them being removed. It shouldn't be possible."

"The fragmentary writings that remain are all apocalyptic in tone," Screen-Koenma continued. "They speak of a return to chaos by all Three Worlds..."

"Oh, dear," said Yukina.

"Joy," said Yuusuke.

"...fated through their very existence, which may only be averted by the assembly of certain individuals referred to only as the Nine." Koenma rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "This is not as far-fetched as it sounds. The mathematical models involved are a little obscure for this discussion, but essentially the planes could be seen as complex, overlapping standing waves. With very long wavelengths. It's not impossible that the transforms will end by cancelling out one day and collapsing the balance. If so, it will have been fated indeed.

"Under such circumstances, it should be reasonable and expedient for me to declare a mission and have you get to the bottom of all this." There was a pause. Koenma removed his sunglasses; the gaze he lifted to the camera was serious.

"I have, however, been overruled. By my father."

The Reikai Tantei were, for once, quite silent.

"No real explanation was given, but I can hazard an educated guess. If there is a guiding principle to these events -- call it fate, or call it what you like -- the spiritual authorities of any dimension are likely bound by geis not to interfere. The writings say the course of the future is to depend on the Nine. I am not entirely certain I trust them with the task, whoever they might be; or whether they will assemble at all without outside help. However, not only am I not allowed to green-light a search for these individuals, I'm not allowed to request any further information on them. And information, I am sure, my father has."

"Ouch," breathed Yuusuke. "Sucks to be you..."

"Apart from everything I've mentioned so far, duties in the Reikai have been progressing wonderfully. And my official channels for dealing with the present crisis are exactly nil." Koenma smiled widely. "So I'm on vacation."

"He's pissed," said Kuwabara.

"Very pissed," Botan confirmed.

"And, incidentally, so are you. I'm giving the Reikai Tantei a month's leave, effective immediately. Botan as well." The Godling leant back, steepling his fingers. "Of course, what my employees do during their spare time is entirely beyond my control. It's up to you from now on."

There was a pause that was significant to at least three digits.

The screen flickered and went blue.

Shizuru whistled again.

"Blank cheque," Yuusuke said. "As long as we put our asses on the line, anyway."

Botan ran her fingers through her ponytail nervously. "Koenma-sama can't afford to let this get out. If Reikai violates some sort of pact -- well, it's not just a question of a spanking."

"What?" Yuusuke blinked at her, then grinned. "Aw, man, it's all right. I get the reasoning. We can manage without the backing -- just keep a low profile."

"You'll still be at risk," said Botan.

"He put his ass on the line for me at the Ankoku Bujutsukai too. It's okay. Besides, it's either that or let the Three Worlds collapse around our ears, right?" Yuusuke stood. "We should get a move on."

"Do we have any idea what we're doing?" said Kuwabara.

Yuusuke scratched at his chin.

"Y'know, that's a good question..."

***

"Ye gods, what a day..."

A high-heeled shoe bounced off the opposite wall of the vestibule, followed in short order by its twin. Takemiya Yanagi kicked the front door of her apartment closed behind her with one stockinged foot and padded in the general direction of the icebox. There should still be a batch of pina colada mix in there.

Mondays were always the worst.

Glass, ice, drink mix, where was the rum? She'd heard that bartending put one off booze after a while; thank whatever deities, it hadn't happened to her yet. And what with... what with the psycho, and the police (what was up with the Cigarette-Smoking Man anyhow?), and having to get up again after three hours of sleep and set off for the Library in that goddamn prissy flowered dress she'd worn to the job interview and was now afraid of taking off -- she needed a drink. A moment to unwind. Or take a shower. All of the above. As she passed her stereo system she turned the volume knob to full blast.

"Sekai ga owaru made wa
"Hanareru koto mo nai..."

Of all the skills she'd picked up in college, though, she wouldn't have thought drink mixing would come in most useful. Guess you never know, really.

Takemiya chugged half her pina colada and started on her front buttons. Her mind skipped back to last-night-at-the-club, and she smiled wrily. Poor Yuuki, he must be tearing himself up by now. And that sister of his -- that Miaka. Sweet girl. Naive, not very fast on the uptake, but still.

When Takemiya had seen the gun turned on Miaka and her fianc� something had snapped in her. She found it hard to justify to herself, actually. She wasn't the heroic type.

But she couldn't stand by and watch those two get mowed down. Not those two.

"Otoko no kizukasetsu ni
Minna e made odoreteku
Onna wa kowai mono yo�"

At least no one had died. Things were screwed up enough as it was: the big show that night had been cancelled, and a couple of others put on hiatus. Her boss was livid. Well, eventually she'd manage enough of a salary on her day job, as opposed to sorting in the archives for two hours every afternoon, but it wasn't going to happen soon.

She topped off her glass and wandered into the bathroom, tossing her dress into a corner. Where were her towels? She had no clean towels. Or maybe she did but had stashed them somewhere particularly esoteric. It was a long time since she did her laundry.

"Dammit..."

The doorbell rang then, and Takemiya sighed. Never a moment's peace.

"Hai, hai, coming..."

By the time she'd reached the vestibule the door was being nudged open timidly.

"Takemiya-san?" After a moment of thought she identified the light alto: Kentarou-kun, 201, the apartment right under. The nice kid, the redhead.

She did like them with red hair.

"Takemiya-san, it's... it's about the music. Um, I'm trying to... I'm conducting an experiment downstairs and the vibrations are... ano... are you there? I'm coming in, all right? Is that okay?"

The door was open. Ken-kun stared at her, blushing the color of his bangs.

"O...oro..."

Takemiya blinked down at herself, standing in bra and pantyhose. She'd forgotten. "Heh. Heh heh, heh. Um -- sumimasen!"

She sprinted for the bathroom.

Ye gods...

Notes on this chapter:

1) Ring is a Japanese blockbuster horror film about a malevolent spirit who resides in a videotape: anyone who watches the tape dies in a week unless they can break the curse. Evil Video Girl Ai, if you will. ^^; Yes, I know it sounds dumb, but this is honestly *the* most frightening movie I've ever seen, and the entirety of the Montreal Fant-Asia film festival audience will agree with me.

2) The songs are the Slam Dunk TV 2nd ED and the Tenchi Muyo! TV 1st OP, respectively. And yes, if you make out the Japanese it has something to say about the plot. ^_^

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