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lonelypond · 7 years

Text

2024

Welcome to my IdolFools AU, an IdolPunk take on the future, starring μ's.

Love Live, mainly NicoMaki, 10K words, first chapter of 2.

Playlist

IDOL AND FOOLS

Three women raced into an alley, two of them obscured by masks and hoodies, while the smallest ripped down her mask and waved at the security camera she’d decided to stage her show for that night. She flipped her ebon ponytail over one shoulder and winked, ruby eyes mischievous.

“Are we writing or painting tonight, Ni…” the tallest of them came up behind her, but stopped when the unmasked leader hissed at her, “No names, Toasty.”

“Sorry, No. 1.”

“Paint.” The ebon-haired woman grabbed a can of red spray paint and starting sweeping lips onto the wall facing the camera. The other two quickly surrounded it with hearts in rainbow colors. Then No. 1 switched to another can, spraying letters with an expert touch: “Hidden hearts, curious to touch.” She stepped back, looked over the night’s work, turned back to the camera, leaned forward and blew a kiss to anyone watching.

SOLDIERS AND SCIENTISTS

“Who am I, yes? You've grown curious, yes? Then it might just be love Knowing secrets lie hidden in my heart, What will you do about that? It's soldier game Will you ask about them next time we meet?

“Three, two, one, zero! Onto the next battle strategy Please look at me; I'm completely serious Receive my signal and the future will be yours.”

Welcome to this week’s Soldier Game broadcast. Once again, a shoutout to the IdolFools taggers, breaking walls down with heart and art! We’ve got your back. And for you everyday girl loving heroes, tomorrow night, text the number you know with the phrase “soldier heart” for this weekend’s Tunnel Rave code. We might see you there.

“Next we bring you some information from BalletTwist about our latest efforts against government conformity while Diamond Princess and Love Arrow will answer the questions you sent in last week…”

WE MEET

Underneath the very staid and traditional dojo of Sonoda Umi’s family was buried a hidden room, constantly lit by the computer screens monitoring video feeds. Hidden tunnels allowed for three exits. The equipment inside was top of the line, aside from one slightly faulty mini fridge, and fully paid for by Nishikino Maki’s trust fund. Ayase Eli had used her international connections and reputation for straight shooting to gain access to many many lists of contacts. That information had wired the hacking trio straight into the heart of Japanese commerce and culture.

Umi and Eli met in one of the entry tunnels, both on their way from the University of Tokyo. Maki had probably beaten them there. They slid open the final security door to see their partner too absorbed in the scene in front of her to notice their entrance. Maki, her red hair under a black watch cap, grey plaid flannel-clad arms wrapped around her torso, was staring at a video looping on the wall screen. The IdolFools leader finished her sig, turned to look straight at the video camera, crimson eyes sparkling as she winked, and blew a long kiss. Umi and Eli glanced at each other but stayed silent, watching their friend, lost to her surroundings. Finally, after watching so many loops Umi had lost count, Maki shook her head and deleted the video. Snap. Snap. From everything everywhere. Yes, she had a gesture for that. One quick double snap of her fingers, video everyone else was unaware of gone from anywhere anyone else could find it.

Eli spun Maki’s stool to face her. “Why do you do that?”

Maki yelped and jumped out of her seat. “W...w...what; when did you, where…”

Sonoda Umi moved behind her friend, putting a sympathetic hand on her shoulder. “Maki here thinks the little one is too cute to go be in government custody.”

Maki frowned and started twisting a curl of her hair.

Eli snorted. “Can’t we just write out ’An Anarchist’s Guide to Disguising Your Physical Presence While Under Surveillance. Chapter One: wear a frickin’ mask’ and get a copy to her?”

Maki muttered, red faced, not looking Eli in the eye.

“What?” Eli resisted the shake Maki impulse.

“We can’t find her,” Umi explained, moving to her computer and pushing in a minidrive.

“Her face and art are everywhere and YOU can’t find her?” Eli sighed. “Maybe she should write a manual for us.”

“I’m getting some pizza.” Maki stood.

“There’s some in the fridge,” Umi pointed.

“Nah,” Maki grabbed her jacket, black, short. “Going home. Class in the morning.”

“Oh right,” Eli stood. “Guess we got here late.”

“We still need to examine these new schematics,” Umi stated as she shifted through files and layers of plans began appearing on the wall screen.

Eli nodded and closed the door after Maki, then gave her full attention to the robotics specifications Umi was projecting. With a quick clap of her hands together, she activated the holographic projector and then stretched her hands apart to adjust the size of the models.

Maki chose the shortest tunnel route. No thermal signatures or movement registering on the exit scanner, so she popped the hatch. Cool air felt great. Maki checked carefully to make sure no one had the seen the alley she exited from. Some dive with food would surely be open.

“Nico-chan, come back here!” Maki heard a shout behind her, then someone bulleted into her side. She whirled and caught a glimpse of impish eyes over a black mask dotted with screenprinted kisses. Almost too familiar, impish, crimson eyes. There was a wink before the person sprinted off again, but Maki had grabbed her tan coat, causing paint markers to spill from a pocket, all over the street.

“Damn it,” the woman grumped, shaking her head.

“Wait. I’ll help.” Maki knelt, still holding the coat.

The person waved away someone behind Maki’s back, and she heard footsteps running the other way.

The voice Maki occasionally heard in her dreams turned pleading. “Please let go. I need to skip.”

“Don’t run off; I want to talk to you, Miss No. 1,” Maki heard herself say out loud. The shorter woman grabbed her and pulled her into an alley, hissing, markers forgotten.

“How do you know that?” Ruby eyes burned with an intensity that lasered through the darkness.

Maki smiled, proud to be able to claim her Resistance efforts for once, and pointed to herself. “Diamond Princess.”

No. 1 stepped back with a low whistle, her glance screengrabbing every detail of Maki’s appearance. She pulled down her mask, kissed Maki on the cheek, whispered “Thanks” and took off at a blisteringly fast pace, not bothering to pick up her markers. Maki stared after the ebon blur, thoughts whirling, before kneeling down to retrieve the markers. Her cheek burned and her heart was racing as fast as “Nico-chan” had left.

WE MEET AGAIN?

Another party. Maki straightened her tie. Every time her mother tried to get her in an evening gown, Maki refused, but her mother kept pressing. Maki had finally just bought the most expensive tuxedo she could find in the hopes that her effort would at least quiet her mother, but no. Actually, Maki found herself thinking as she watched women sweeping past her in a rainbow of scintillating, glittering colors, some with crystals scattered, a few with the latest graphene technology shimmering between hues, she might not mind wearing something like that if only her mother wouldn’t make such a fuss. But as it was, Maki stood in her suit, champagne glass full of sparkling water in hand, hair slicked back, nodding at the beautiful butterflies who smiled at her, perfectly comfortable in her designer anonymity. Although a Nishikino was never invisible.

Until now. There was a fanfare, and every head turned to the ballroom’s main entrance. Two men walked in, followed by a towering figure. No, Maki thought as she paid closer attention, it was a smaller person on some kind of rolling platform. Hair done in an outrageous hairstyle, figure buried in a stiff but voluminous take on a black and gold kimono, neon characters streaming across its presumably graphene surface, face completely obscured by the artificiality of the makeup. Then someone handed her a microphone, and a high, cutesy, girly, giggly voice began to sing about the perfect boy. Maki frowned. Sure, the government had an official policy to encourage “traditional dating,” but there was no cleverness to it. Have some painted, perfect doll deliver a song about the “perfect boy,” your future together painted in the faux idyllic, puerile colors of modern pop. There was no perfect anything, and certainly no perfect boy. And no more access to birth control or support of “alternative” lifestyles. Just a government plan to make more children to put into more boxes to keep a strict eye on as they grew old enough for policed, drug-hazed meetings or arranged marriages to make more children to put in more boxes to continue the aforementioned government policies. No imagination at all. Maki rolled her eyes and turned away as the singer’s voice continued to pierce. Maybe the IdolFools would be prowling tonight, tagging walls with smart, empowering snark, while the idle rich partied. Umi would surely contact her if that happened. Maki longed to see someone not being simple. Or under government control.

The singing had stopped, and the doll-like figure had disappeared into the crowd. Maki sighed, her slouch even more pronounced, indifferent to her evening prospects. She didn’t count many friends among the current crowd, but it was probably time to find an acquaintance to make conversation with. And then she felt a hand on her sleeve, squeezing slightly. She turned. It was the doll. The makeup was even more disturbing up close, pasty, white, almost Kabuki, with blush and eye shadow overemphasizing features. The eyes were black, no pupils. Maki shivered.

“Didn’t the brilliant Dr. Nishikino enjoy the great Nico Ni’s performance?” Maki swore the doll simpered.

“How do you know m…” Maki straightened up, every nerve suddenly jangling at the invasive touch.

A fair-haired woman with green eyes slid between Maki and the doll. “Yazawa-san, the Mayor would like a moment of your time.”

The doll nodded. Maki noticed her hand was still on Makis’ sleeve, grip stronger than Maki would have guessed from such a fragile looking “creature.” “Perhaps later, the doctor will share a drink and her thoughts with me, after we’ve been properly introduced.”

Maki shrugged. “I’ll share them now. Your performance was very … simple. And probably appealed to many. I’m sure it was an excellent example of what popular music can offer, but I prefer instrumental.”

A giggle. “Ah, the doctor hides behind her classical training.” The doll winked.

Maki started, startled once again by the singer’s familiarity. “How do you…”

“Yazawa-san,” the other woman was insistent. Yazawa raised her hand from Maki’s sleeve and bowed deeply, while Maki just glared at the brazen singer.

“Enjoy the rest of your evening, Dr. Nishikino. I won’t be singing any more, so there will be no need to hurry home.” Nico Ni turned and slid off behind her assistant.

Maki frowned into a vacuum of emptiness Nico Ni had somehow intensified. Maki felt as if she’d stepped into a spotlight highlighting her solitary status. How did a conversation with a giggling government front leave her feeling like she’d been left behind at the start?

BACK AT THE SHOP

“No IdolFools tonight, huh?” Maki wondered, fidgeting with various items on her desk while watching a video stream of the news. Coverage of the party and Nico Ni’s performance. Maki was grateful she hadn’t seen herself in any of the video clips.

Umi shrugged, typing code with her usual speed. “No sighting. And it is now well past their usual hour to appear.”

Maki swept right and brought up another Nico Ni performance, frowning at the screen on her worktable. “You don’t think the government is much more advanced in AI and robotics technology than we think, do you?”

Umi shook her head, chuckling. “Maki, you’re the professor of NeuroLinguistics, you tell us. Why do you ask?”

“Something didn’t feel right about that Yazawa … person.” Maki said the last word doubtfully, shivering a bit, remembering how the singer’s hand had lingered on her forearm. “And I can’t find any information about her, anywhere, no pictures, no history, no nothing. Is she just a government invention?”

Eli stepped away from the projection she was manipulating to look over Maki’s shoulder, watching the video Maki had up. Nico Ni at the Tokyo Dome. Thousands and thousands of screaming women pushing toward the stage. “Doubtful. Music and dance are very complicated, and she’s done impromptu live, solo performances.”

“Fan?” Maki glanced up at the blonde woman.

“No. I just pay attention to popular culture, and she’s dominating the news. She never goes anywhere without her back-up dancers aka bodyguards, A-Rise.”

Maki did a quick search. “I met one tonight, Kira. There’s information and pictures on them, but Yazawa’s never seen out of costume.”

“Why do we care?” Umi wondered, pausing to lean her chin onto her hands.

“Very good question.” Eli bounced back on her heels. “Why do we care, Professor Nishikino?”

“She knew too many things.” Maki couldn’t really explain the dissonance in her nerves that the Idol ‘s presence had set off. Even thinking about … her? It? them? caused a shudder.

“You are a public figure,” Umi, the voice of reason, pointed out.

“And cute,” Eli winked.

Maki pushed her chair back, looking at the floor, blushing slightly. “I just know it’s frustrating. I don’t know why. I don’t really want to. I want pizza.”

“You always want pizza. It’s a pattern. Patterns are dangerous,” Umi noted, concern in her voice.

A buzzer went off. Maki leaned in toward her computer screen, alert. Facial recognition software triggered. “They’re out.”

“Where?”

Maki checked where the surveillance footage was coming from. “The hospital?”

“Your hospital?” Eli sounded startled.

“My family’s, yes. They’ve never gone anywhere near it before. Our security’s pretty tight. Must be a shift change. Or bribery?” Maki sounded puzzled.

The three women who called themselves IdolFools came into view, dressed in dark grey mottled, loose hoodies, two masked. They worked quickly and efficiently, neon colors going up into a diamond dressed in a dark suit and tie, topped by a tiara.

Umi laughed. “It’s your tag, switched up.”

“What?”

“Diamond Princess plus Tuxedo.”

The shorter one, once again unobscured by a mask, turned to the closest camera and bowed with a flourish. Then all three tagged the art and fled. No. 1 Idol. Idol MEnOW. Toasted Idol. Maki had become familiar with each of their tags.

Maki frowned, another set of memories pushing forward. “I saw her last night.”

“Who?”

Maki hmmmed. “No. 1. She ran into me when I came out of the H Tunnel Alley. One of the others I didn’t see called her Nico-chan. I wanted to talk to her, but she ran off.”

“One Nico who doesn’t want to talk to you, and one you couldn’t get away from. You’re being Nic-ursed, Maki-chan,” Eli poked her friend.

“If a third shows up, it might be best for you to leave the country,” Umi advised solemnly.

Maki shrugged, made sure she had all the video footage of tonight’s IdolFools’ adventures logged, and double snapped.

Eli sat on a stool, in the middle of her projected schematics. “Do you ever wonder if she wants to be seen? It was only coincidence you noticed the first two times.”

“Of course she wouldn’t. That would be stupid,” Maki declared.

Eli grinned as she began moving layers. “People are weird. That’s what makes them more interesting than your robot singer.”

“Yeah.” Maki pulled up another video, still puzzled, still caught between unadmitted fascination and obvious frustration.

Umi stood and stretched. “Now I want pizza. How many slices should I heat up?”

“All of them,” Maki and Eli answered.

Eli stretched. “We should start working on that speech algorithm again. I got a little more data from my defense connection.”

DARKNESS STRIKES THE DAY

Eli was used to the occasional stares. Her blonde hair, fair skin and blue eyes frequently drew attention in a country allowing itself to further and further distance and dehumanize anything “other.” But she was usually fairly safe in Akihabara; it was a melting-pot neighborhood, full of pop-up stores, the latest tech, impossible foods, fast moving multitudes, and many of the eccentrics who had either dropped out or been discarded by mainstream society. It was near Chiyoda, the neighborhood the Sonoda family dojo and Maki’s townhouse were located in. Eli came here as often as she could, to see what was new in stores and to hear the street gossip. She rarely drew much attention, but today, something felt different, dangerous. She could feel the stares, the attention. She regretted not having a hat or hoodie to pull over her hair. People were walking closer, muttering, bumping her, a sudden elbow, a push off balance, and she fell into a young man, who shoved her onto the pavement. Suddenly, she was the center of a circle of anger.

“Baka!”

“Gaijin!”

“Too stupid to walk.”

Eli was down on one knee, trying to stand, but people were closing in. She saw one young man pull his leg back, preparing a kick, an older woman raised her handbag. Eli crossed her arms to protect her head and felt a hard jab into her side, stealing her breath. Something sharp bit into her cheek.

“Get to your feet,” Eli ordered herself, pushing up against three people, when suddenly there was a loud roar and someone next to her, yelling and moving to protect her.

“Back off!” A woman commanded the crowd.

Someone else grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet, dragging her quickly out of the pack while the voice continued to shout.

“Go home. Find something to love. Stop causing trouble.”

Eli almost laughed at the anger mixed with honest sincerity in the voice behind her.

“You’re okay.” A small woman with bright green eyes was was pulling her into an alley. “We know where to take you. You’ll be safe.”

“Thanks.”

They stopped. “I’m Rin.” The woman smiled and took off her hat, handing it to Eli. “I think if we just walk casually from here we’ll be fine.”

“What about…?”

“Honoka? She’ll be fine. She’s always fine. She knows how to handle crowds.”

Rin, who had revealed short dusty ginger hair under her hat, led them down alleys, always watching, eyes moving quickly, steps almost quicker. Eli had to push to keep up. She was unfamiliar with this part of the town.

They stepped out into a small lane with a row of shops, a restaurant in the middle. Rin went quickly into the one to the right of the restaurant. Eli glanced up at the sign, not in Japanese, a Greek letter. μ's.

Inside was a friendly clutter, clothes, the smell of coffee in the air, low lighting, fabric scattered everywhere, couches. A chime clattered as the door closed, and a melodious voice trilled, “What sort of a stray did you bring us this time, Rin-chan?”

A woman pushed through a bead curtain, long dark purple-tinted hair gathered over one shoulder, turquoise eyes winking with amusement. “Looks like a hungry one. Kotori, bring a tray out.”

“Uh huh.” Another trill of melody. After the harsh voices in the street, Eli felt like she’d stepped into a different time and country. The rustic looking fabric the purple-haired woman had wrapped around her voluptuous figure added to the distortion.

Rin disappeared for a moment and came back with a first-aid kit. “Sit down.”

Eli sat in the chair her rescuer pushed toward her. Rin quickly cleaned her cheek. Eli saw blood on the gauze. Rin frowned. “I don’t think stitches. Nozomi?”

The woman she called Nozomi moved closer, leaning in to look at Eli’s cheek. Eli found her head turning to stare into the other woman’s eyes.

“If you don’t look straight ahead, I won’t be able to check your wound.” The turquoise-eyed woman smile. “I’m Tojo Nozomi. I won’t hurt you. Rin and Honoka always bring their strays here.”

Eli breathed in. There was a strange spicy spell. “Ayase Eli. And thank you.” She turned her head away as commanded. Soft fingers touched her cheek, tracing the cheekbone lightly.

“Just a butterfly bandage. Shouldn’t scar.”

A third woman, with fawn-colored hair and gentle golden eyes, came forward, teapot and plate of cookies on a tray.

“Chocolate?” Eli asked hopefully.

Kotori laughed, the skin around her eyes crinkling in a friendly fashion. “A few, yes.”

“What happened?” Nozomi asked.

RIn pulled her hat off Eli’s head, revealing the blonde hair. “Out-of-control crowd.”

Nozomi frowned. “That must have been frightening. Are you all right, Ayase-san?”

Eli had a mouthful of cookie but nodded as Kotori poured out tea. “Not really new. I should have been more careful. I’ve been too busy to come to this part of town recently; I didn’t realize the mood had altered so.”

“Bad rolls downhill, good climbs the mountain slowly,” Nozomi declared, reaching into a pocket to pull out a deck of Tarot cards. She looked at a card, and then another. Then she met Eli’s glance, her brows lowering.

“What?” Eli wasn’t sure if Nozomi’s look was intended as an inquisition or an invitation.

“Oh, this is just a hobby. It helps me figure out … hmmm ...” Nozomi frowned, her attention returning to the cards. “The Hermit means solitude -- or isolation --but paired with The Star it means you’re on the path the universe meant for you.”

Eli took another cookie, ignoring the pain in her side and cheek and deciding not to respond to the mysticism. “Is this your store?”

“Yes. Kotori makes clothing, Rin and Honoka put art on T-shirts, we sell vintage stuff plus warm drinks and cookies. The universe nearly always needs warm drinks and cookies to stay in balance. All guaranteed not tagged by the government.” Nozomi giggled. “Although if you’re a government agent, I should not have said that.”

Eli grinned. “Nope, totally not government approved, although I probably shouldn’t have said that.” She paused. “Well, I am a student at a government university, so slightly government approved.”

“You look harmless enough,” Nozomi stated. Kotori giggled. Rin was repacking the first-aid kit.

Eli glanced at her watch, mechanical, Swiss mechanism, very very old and unhackable. “Thank you, ladies, but I have an appointment. Maybe we could meet again sometime?”

Nozomi took out a different card, with a contact number. She slid it into Eli’s hand. “Please.”

“Honoka will be sad not to see you,” Rin pouted.

Eli got up and Impulsively hugged Rin. “Give her that for me. With my thanks.” Then she pulled the hat back off the smaller woman’s head. “I’ll need to borrow this, though.”

“Bring it back soon!” Rin shouted as Eli opened the door, flashing her brightest grin at the three women as she left.

ANOTHER MEETING

Her mother had won this time. Purple gown, plunging back, lace overlay. Maki knew it was important not to become a blip on either her parents or the government’s radar. So for a party celebrating the wedding of the university president’s son to a defense ministry higher up’s daughter, the traditional female formalwear came out. Maki was perfectly comfortable, the dress fit well and she’d worn flats. Her only irritations were the gleam in her mother’s eyes and the men she would keep bringing over to meet her very single daughter.

Maki pulled her phone out. No messages. Not that she and Eli or Umi communicated by phone much. Yes, they had a secure, encrypted app disguised as a weather update, but still, they avoided unnecessary communication over networks. She would see the other two later tonight, after fulfilling her social obligations.

“Good evening, Dr. Nishikino. A pleasure to see you again. Did you come to hear me serenade the happy couple?”

Maki recognized the drawling voice and groaned, putting her phone away. Nico Ni. Black eyes stared into hers, then the painted lips broke into that disconcertingly artificial smile. The makeup was in a new configuration today, red stripes slashed over cheekbones and lips, dark blue slashes over the eyes, contrasting with the pale pale ivory caked on what Maki assumed was some kind of pliable ceramic skin.

“Are you meant to look like moveable doll?” Maki decided to forgo the empty, polite chatter.

She couldn’t tell if the singer was frowning or smiling as the smaller woman leaned in, both hands on the table. “Does the doctor want to know if I’m real or robot? To take me back to your lab and experiment?”

“N … no …” Maki stuttered, turning away, discomfited by the Idol’s near touch.

Yazawa laughed, then straightened to walk past Maki to her next victim. Her hand glided up Maki’s arm, trailing over the shoulder, a light, tantalizing touch as she leaned down to whisper in Maki’s ear, her voice throaty. “I like this look better. It’s delectable.” Maki nearly knocked her chair backward as Yazawa moved away quickly. She could feel a blush spreading everywhere.

BACK AT HQ

Umi leaned back in her chair, glancing between the bandaged Eli and the shaken Maki. “Am I the only one who had a quiet evening?”

Maki hadn’t bothered to change. She threw her handbag against the wall behind her worktable and grumbled at Umi. “You always have a quiet evening. You don’t have a crazy, stalker demon doll after you.”

“Or a cute street tagger to keep a constant eye on,” Umi countered with. “Takes a stalker to know one.”

“Shut up.” Maki, dress flaring out behind her, stomped over to the workout corner and bumped the speed bag with her head. Several times. Which reminded her. “I have a melody.”

“What?” Umi paused her code entry.

“For your ‘Love and Peace’ lyrics. We can record in time for the usual broadcast.” Maki glared at the speed bag, picturing a certain singer’s blank eyes on its surface.

“Excellent,” Umi nodded. “Shall we start?”

Maki swatted the bag. “I am so not in a ‘Love and Peace’ mood.”

“And I need some sleep.” Eli yawned. “I think I’ll just curl up here.”

“Good idea. Sleep is essential for any successful endeavor.” Umi stood. “Tomorrow, then.”

THE BROADCAST

“Being able to be earnest is lovely It's not logic but an earnest feeling Do you possess rules of freedom and courage?

“Don't fear progress Share the joy Even if it's only those two, I want to uphold them without fail.

“Oh, Love & Peace Let my heart become a gentle breeze Yes, I want to give you energy so you'll do your best Oh, Love & Peace When you're sad, I vow To always hold you tight, don't forget that.

“Even if it's painful, cry no more Let's graduate from the solitude, Love & Peace.

“Becoming too reckless is agonizing Let's look back and take a deep breath Everyone loves freedom and courage.”

“Thanks for listening to the new song from Soldier Game, ‘Love and Peace.’ Be a kind wind out there, people. Help each other. Find someone to hold you tight the government doesn’t approve of, as long as that person approves. Pick up a fallen friend. Take care of yourself. And now a quick word from our Diamond Princess:

“Does anyone else find government shill and demon doll Nico Ni a creepy, artificial fake? I’ve been wondering: Is government robotics research suddenly advanced enough to produce a minor talent to push their traditional family agenda? Are the screaming hordes at the Nico Ni concerts brainwashed by propaganda, or in an auditory, robot-induced alpha wave haze? What don’t we know? Are all your awful government entertainment choices actually government-constructed robots and androids? Did they decide to declare war on our ears and not our enemies? You know where to post your thoughts.”

It was always weird to hear their filtered voices, Maki thought as she listened to their podcast in her headphones yet again. She wasn’t certain she’d expressed herself clearly about the demon doll. It felt weird to accuse a person she’d met of being a robot, especially when she knew technology was not that advanced … as far as she could find out. Plus, the fingertips on her shoulder had been warm, and the tingle they’d left hadn’t been a surge from anything electrical. Maki had been shocked in the lab enough times to know that. But she knew something was off, and she had no idea how to describe it. But she worried that she’d been too harsh.

Eli pulled off her headphones and spun her chair around as the IdolFools flashed up on the wallscreen.

“Look at this,” Umi pointed.

The three taggers, two masked and obscured, as usual, and No. 1, taking pauses to grin at the camera as usual, were finishing their night’s work.

Three phrases, two of them lyrics from the latest Soldier Game offering: “Love and Peace.” “Be A Kind Wind.”

“They’re fans,” Eli stated.

Maki was staring at the last phrase, for once ignoring the on camera shenanigans of No. 1. “AI-Rise,” she whispered.

“AI-Rise.” Maki pulled on Umi’s arm. “The bodyguards are the robots?” She was silent for a minute. “And how would they know?”

“They do know things,” Umi said in a respectful tone. On the screen, No 1 started painting a red heart, obscuring AI-RIse.

“But we still can’t find them to verify anything.” Maki paced away from the screen, right hand rushing through her hair.

“No,” Eli agreed, clapping a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “But you can find Yazawa and distract her while we take a look.”

“No,” Maki turned red, shaking Eli off. “I refuse.”

“No, you don’t,” Eli continued, talking over Maki. “If the government has AI that advanced, 1, they’re years ahead of you, and 2, they’ve been keeping you out of the loop.”

“But that’ll compromise my identity. And Soldier Game.” Maki continued backing away, arms crossing in front of her as if to ward off the thought.

“No, you won’t be associated with this at all,” Eli shook her head. “We can knock you out while you protect the pretty porcelain doll.”

Maki yelled. It probably echoed in the dojo. “What!?!?!”

Umi snorted, her hand now on Maki’s shaking shoulder. “Just forget the self-defense I taught you. I won’t do any permanent damage.”

“This is a bad plan,” Maki stated. “A really, really bad plan.”

Eli’s blue eyes had chilled into no compromise mode. “You know you want a look at those robots, Maki, if they are robots.”

Maki slumped against the wall, forehead pressed against the concrete, refusing to look at her co conspirators. “Yeah. But I still bet Yazawa’s the robot.”

Umi fist bumped Eli, who answered. “We’ll take that bet. Pizza’s on you for a year if you’re wrong.”

“Pizza’s always on me.”

“That’s because it’s all you’ll eat. Pattern,” Umi teased.

“Not true.” Maki pushed herself off the wall. “I eat su...”

“So,” Eli interrupted the discussion. “We are agreed, it’s worth a risk to see if the government is using robotics technology that advanced.”

“Maybe.” Maki hesitated. “Are we really going to do this based on a tip from some random street taggers?”

Umi frowned at her friend. “So, since you are uncomfortable around Yazawa, you suddenly doubt the people you’ve been supporting for months. Who are out on the streets, taking risks, making a difference, encouraging people like us.”

Maki couldn’t meet Umi’s stern glance. Then Umi double snapped, erasing tonight’s footage. Maki raised her head, shocked, mentally kicking herself for letting doubt distract her, endangering the three women who had earned her respect. Umi was right to chide her lack of conviction.

Maki swallowed both pride and discomfort. “You’re right, Umi.”

Umi nodded, happy with the contrition in Maki’s voice.

“So next time you see Yazawa, ask for a private meeting,” Eli pressed.

“Maybe I won’t see her again. Or she’ll say no.” Maki cheered up at the prospect.

“I wouldn’t bet on that,” Umi said.

Maki muttered into her hands, “You wouldn’t bet on anything.”

Umi stared into the distance. “I would bet you’ll see her again. And this evening, I already have wagered a year’s worth of pizza that A-Rise is the AI.”

Umi sounded so convinced Maki turned her head to stare. Umi shrugged. “Call it a strong hunch.”

“Now you’ve got hunches?” Maki snorted at her friend. “Who are you?”

Eli laughed and grabbed her coat. “I’ll see you two later. I have a date.” She pulled on a green hat; she’d been wearing one more often since the attack.

IN CLASS

Maki hated morning classes. She tried to avoid them, but sometimes it was impossible. This one was 8 a.m. Intro to Mechatronics, when students began to meld all the academic fields that were involved in intelligent machines into big-picture future science. It was also when they began to decide on specialties. The class seemed as grumpy as she was, with a large percentage missing. Was everyone out partying last night, Maki wondered. Or did they all lose sleep being chased by people they barely knew in their nightmares. Maki yawned, sorely tempted to just pull out her laptop, turn on the projector, hit play on “My Girlfriend is A Cyborg” and take a nap in the back of the classroom. One more quick glance at the sullen, sleepy faces around her and she concluded, “Oh, what the hell.”

The class seemed pleasantly surprised at the lecture substitute, even when Maki assigned them a paper about the ethics of creating robots who look like specific people. Maki settled into a back-row seat, stretching her legs out into the aisle and letting her head fall forward into her chest. If she was going to dream about robots, it was time to choose fictional options.

“Oh, responsible choice, Professor Nishikino,” Eli laughed as she slid in next to Maki.

“It matches my responsible TA,” Maki pulled out her phone. “37 minutes late for class.”

“I stopped by your office. You got mail.” Eli grabbed Maki’s phone, opening her calendar.

“Email? You hacked my computer?” Maki stared at Eli, who pushed a heavy envelope at her.

“No. Not email. Mail.”

Maki opened the envelope, read the gold-embossed card quickly, then tossed it away. Eli caught it and handed Maki her phone back.

“Restaurant opening. Very fancy, very formal, personally invited by number one government entertainer, Nico Ni Yazawa. Your mother will love this. Very good for the Nishikino name. I put the date in your phone. Wear something nice. Girls like that.” Eli winked.

“Shut up,” Maki hissed. “If you’re any kind of friend, you’ll destroy that card and pretend I never saw it.”

“I love you, Maki, but if you don’t go, Yazawa might show up here. She seems to be finding ways for you to stumble across her. Obviously, she can tell you can’t stop thinking about her. Maybe she’s a psychic robot girlfriend?” Eli leaned her head on Maki’s shoulder.

Maki shook Eli off, and her voice was a little louder than she expected, “Stop it.” Eli pocketed the invitation with a callous smirk as a few students turned to stare.

“Can you handle these hooligans by yourself?” Eli nodded at the students, most still half asleep in front of them.

“Yes.” Maki crossed her arms over her chest, nose turned sharply into the air.

Eli nodded. “I’m going to find Umi. We have to talk about our latest project before presenting it.”

Maki knew Eli meant that she and Umi were going to discuss whether or not there was enough time to prepare for abducting one of the suspected robots. She’d gotten used to the fact that public conversations had to be conducted very carefully.

“I wish you and Sonada-san luck.”

“Thanks, Prof.” Eli bounced up. “My date went well, since you forgot to ask.”

“Your mood gave me a clue,” Maki grumbled.

“Enjoy the cyborg girlfriend movie, might be good preparation for …”

“Go away, Ayase.”

“Yes ma’am,” Eli bowed with a cheerful flourish. “Don’t forget to ask your mother to help with an outfit.”

Maki’s kick connected.

DINNER WITH THE DEVIL

Maki felt very nervous. She wished she’d worn something with pockets. Sure, everything she needed to communicate with anyone else was wrapped around her left forearm, on the experimental grey silk and graphene NZan Kote half sleeve. But it was designed to be streamlined, not fidgeted with. Umi and Eli had not told her anything about the plan. Her mother would have criticized her wardrobe choice had she seen it, and the restaurant was too well lit for Maki to hide in a shadowy corner. Huge windows, huge lights, and while she’d been seated in the back, the table was centrally located. The invitation from Yazawa had not listed a dress code, so Maki had opted for a grey tweed vest, open-collar white silk shirt and floor-length black skirt

There was a list of entertainers and a prix fixe menu, shimmering in hand-lettered gold. So many courses. Maki had half expected the singer to meet her, but no, she had yet to see Yazawa. As a soup course was set before the Doctor, a fanfare announced the start of the show. Nico Ni stepped out into a spotlight, glittering like exquisite jewelry. Maki forced herself to frown. Tonight, the singer was dressed in impossibly tall heels, what looked like a Zoot suit jacket made out of neon green and black striped sheer fabric, with huge shoulders and a short, short fringey skirt. Her makeup was dark, with silver diamonds and tears cascading through her left eye, down her cheek and continuing to her collarbone. Maki watched for a moment as Yazawa mewled some song about two perfect hearts while nearly naked men cavorted around and with the singer before rolling her eyes and continuing the soup course. There was an empty plate in front of the seat next to Maki’s, but aside from that she was alone at the table, and very comfortable with that. She had no desire to make small talk, or any kind of conversation at all. Although she did thoroughly enjoy her soup while mostly ignoring Yazawa’s performance.

She felt someone come up behind her as the salad was delivered. Turning, she saw the same green-eyed woman who’d pulled Yazawa away the first time they met. The singer was on stage, pouring her presumably mechanical heart into a ballad about finding your lover’s face in the aisles of a grocery store or a puddle or something nearly as prosaic.

“Dr. Nishikino, Yazawa-san appreciates your patience. She will be joining you soon.” Kira, Yazawa’s factotum, bowed and left.

Maki nodded and picked at the salad, restless and nervous again. “Oh gods,” she thought, “This is a date.”

Third course was something resembling bruschetta, so Maki didn’t mind. Anything with tomatoes was a win. And then, just as she was starting to chew, she felt someone sweep up very close behind and breathe on her cheek. “Good evening, Dr. Nishikino. I’m pleased to see you. And dressed in such a dashing style.”

As Yazawa smoothly landed a kiss on her cheek, Maki nearly spit out her bread and tomato mix. Yazawa nodded as the factotum pulled out the chair, and the Idol sat facing Maki, legs crossed at the knee. Maki found herself staring at the muscle definition.

“No. No. No,” Maki repeated to herself. “Annoying demon stalker robot. Not random dancer with great legs.”

She looked up. Yazawa’s black eyes were riveted on hers, but their expression was lost in the darkness of her makeup. Maki wondered what color the Idol’s eyes actually were. And then laughed a little when her brain answered, “Electric.”

Yazawa tiled her head. “Something amusing, Nishikino-san? Share with the great Nico Ni while Kira-san gets me … can you recommend any of the dishes so far?”

Maki could answer that question at least. “If you don’t have the soup, you will have missed something.”

Yazawa glanced at her bodyguard and received a bow in response. “Soup it is. And now, the source of your amusement.” Yazawa put her chin in a hand propped on her knee and leaned in.

Maki hesitated briefly, but felt compelled to conversation by the Idol’s unwavering focus. “I was just considering the color of your eyes.”

“Black,” Yazawa answered quickly, blinking. “The eyes of the great Nico Ni are black. The natural movement of pupils is very difficult to mimic artificially, but the professor must know that.” Yazawa whirled in her seat as her soup arrived, leaving Maki to stare at her profile and wonder once again, who was playing with whom?

After a few sips of soup, Yazawa asked a question. “Do you enjoy teaching?”

Maki sighed. Just another interview. Cue the professional charm. A waiter had brought Yazawa some bread twists, and Maki grabbed one, picking it to pieces. “I try not to load myself with too many morning classes, but I do enjoy the challenge of finding answers to students’ questions.”

Yazawa turned, grinning, teeth white and dazzling in the darkness of her face. “No morning classes? Why not? Too many late nights? What does Dr. Nishikino do outside of the classroom?” The way Yazawa dragged out “does” pushed Maki straight back to nervous. The bread twist had been crumbled away, so Maki grabbed at a curl of her hair.

The redhead stumbled. “R … research, reading. I have a pool table in my townhouse. I don’t sleep much.”

The singer laughed. “I find exercise helps with that.”

Maki looked back to the legs. “Ah, you must sleep well with all the dancing.”

Yazawa looked sideways at her. “Yes, that too.”

The damn black eyes stared through Maki again, and she suddenly realized what Yazawa might have been referring to. She reached for her water glass with a shaky hand, and knocked it into the singer’s basket of twists.

Yazawa chuckled and leaned in, her arm resting on the chair behind Maki, who could feel the warmth coming off the Idol’s skin. “You’re just too easy to torment.”

Maki felt frustration and energy building, demanding an outlet. Umi and Eli had impressed upon her that she was not to leave the restaurant or do anything dramatic, but Maki knew if she just sat there she would end up shouting at Nico Ni. Or crashing her chair into something or someone. Or …

“Excuse me,” Maki barked as she stood and rushed for the door. Away. No people. No black eyes. No taunting. No touching. Cool air. Quiet. The restaurant was on a ground floor but pushed back from the street. In the summer, there would probably be outdoor tables and trees full and rustling. She hurried around the corner of the building, out of view of the street, but heard rustling behind her. She turned. Short Skirt. Toned legs. Black eyes of the damned. And because of her stupid heels, Yazawa was at eye level, and so her eyes were even more disturbing. She calmly handed Maki a cigarette, and then offered her a light.

Maki took the cigarette automatically, then tried to hand it back. “I don’t smoke.”

Yazawa grabbed her shoulder. “You do tonight. Put it in your mouth.”

Maki tried to pull away. “What?”

Yazawa grabbed the cigarette, pushed it between Maki’s lips, and lit it. “Would you prefer distinguished professor of robotics and Nishikino heiress throws teenage temper tantrum at restaurant opening as tonight’s late night TWIG gossip buzz?”

“I’m not a teenager.” Maki gulped, then coughed at the heat in her throat.

“Don’t swallow it, idiot.” Nico leaned against the wall, next to Maki, and lit her own cigarette.

“Do you smoke?”

Nico looked from her cigarette to Maki. “You really aren’t terribly fast on the uptake, are you? But not really. I only smoke when I need an excuse to get away from people. Cigarettes are more of a prop.” Nico closed one eye in a slow wink, seductively dragging out her next inhale, lips pursed as she released a thin stream of smoke.

Maki didn’t respond and instead tried inhaling herself, which was worse than swallowing. Her lungs burned. More coughing. Nico drew in another slow breath, watching the Doctor’s face go pale. Then she blew out a thin trail of smoke and tipped the ash off the end.

Kira-san approached, ignoring Maki’s presence as the doctor watched the singer for how-to hints.”You are on in ten minutes, Yazawa-san.”

Yazawa turned to thank her assistant, and four figures, dressed in grey and black, masked, jumped out at the three of them.

Caught off guard, Maki inhaled in panic and really started choking, the cigarette falling out of her mouth. Yazawa looked at Maki doubled over, rolled her eyes, and tried to push her behind a tree. Someone pulled the singer off and threw a bag over head. Yazawa started kicking.

As they tried to pick up the struggling singer, Maki recovered, and reached out toward Yazawa, getting between her and two attackers. The other two tossed some kind of electrified net over Kira-san, and then too late Maki saw the punch heading straight for her jaw. Umi knew exactly where her weak spot was. Maki knocking over Yazawa hadn’t been part of the plan, but as Umi looked at her friend unconscious with the singer half crushed underneath her, she thought it added authenticity.

NO SLEEP FOR THE WEARY

The Nishikino lawyer had made certain that Maki’s statement was taken quickly and efficiently. And that the Doctor had been kept out of the public view, away from the press. And Maki could honestly answer she had no idea what was going on, or why there were four people. Or why they had targeted the Idol. She wondered if anyone had been hurt. Yazawa had a lot of fight for someone so small. But Maki had also seen a picture of Nico Ni unconscious, frail looking, with the knocked-out Maki on top of her.

Maki was exhausted. Her mother had shown up with coffee and concern. What Maki really wanted to get back to her townhouse to see if Eli and Umi had made their way there, not reassure her maternal parent. Surely Eli and Umi had been responsible for the celebritynapping, even though Maki had been surprised to see four people. But who else would have wanted to snatch Yazawa? And anyone else would have left the bodyguard, right? Oh heck, there was no reason to snatch the bodyguard. Maki crushed the coffee cup, expecting the police to call her back for more questions.

“Maki?” Her mother pushed the hair back from Maki’s forehead as the roboticist sat with her head tilted back, a cold pack on her jaw. “The car’s waiting. Let’s go home. You need some rest.”

“I need to go to my house.” Maki removed the cold pack.

“No, you shouldn’t be alone.”

“I want to go home. I’m tired. I want MY bed,” Maki let herself whine. This night had been too long, and her brain kept unhelpfully focusing on the image of Yawaza, legs crossed, leaning in, until the memory of the demon eyes brought out shivers.

“Maki.” Her mother stood, leaning in with concern.

Maki countered quickly, forcing her back. “Sorry, Mom. I’m going home. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

There was a staring match. And a disappointed sigh. “At least take the car.”

Maki nodded.

SLIPPERY IDOL

Maki walked into her living room, throwing off her vest, unbuttoning her top two buttons, waving off the robot that glided greet her. It slid back to its corner. That was normal. What was not was Eli and Umi arguing. Loudly. Long night not nearly over, Maki realized.

“She can’t be in the lab. She’ll see who we are.” Umi’s usual calm voice was tinged with the loud of panic.

“But we can’t shut her in the laundry room.” Eli sounded almost reasonable. They’d probably also already seen that there was really no room in the laundry room. Maki kept forgetting to program the experimental housekeeping robot for chores. Although it was programmed to heat and deliver mini pizzas at midnight, if Maki was spending the night at home.

Eli’s next statement bumped her off team almost reasonable. “We should have kept her unconscious.”

“How would we do that? Drugs?” Umi paced. “Maki’s bedroom has the only lockable door. And any transmissions will still be blocked, if she has a tracker on her. We have to leave her in there.”

“You put her in my bedroom?” Maki pushed between her friends.

Umi nodded at Maki, proud of their improvised solution. “We managed to jury rig a solid lock. We took out everything that could identify you before we grabbed her. Since you don’t have a holding cell, and we need the lab.”

“Too bad you don’t have a bondage fetish, we could have just chained her to a wall, and you might have enjoyed it,” Eli teased.

“Oh, shut up,” Maki snarled as she blushed, turning away from Eli to confront Umi. “And thanks for the bruise, by the way. It hurts.”

Umi shrugged. “The plan worked. You’re not under arrest.”

“No,” Maki conceded, walking through to the kitchen, and grabbing a drink. “Shall we get started?”

“Should we leave someone on guard?” Eli wondered.

Maki stopped, suddenly remembering the earlier part of the evening. “Who were the other two? And where are they now?”

“Friends,” Umi stated. “They left.”

“Do I know them?”

“No,” Umi shook her head and headed to the lab.

Maki sighed, went to her bedroom and tried the door, making sure of the lock. “I’d rather have both of you helping, we’ll get things done faster that way. The police are going to wonder why the bodyguard was grabbed anyway. The less time they have to think …”

“Right,” Eli agreed. “Lab it is.”

Downstairs, in the basement lab, Kira was stretched out on a table. Eli ran a finger over her skin. “Texture’s amazing. Can’t tell if it’s plastic or flexible ceramic, with some sort of textile overlay.”

“Wonder if we can get a hair sample?” Umi glanced at Maki’s carefully organized tools.

“First, let’s figure out where to access the interior,” Maki decided, pulling on gloves. “Torso or head, do you think?”

Eli crouched so her eyes were level with the robot, scanning. “Torso would be more protected. Guess we’ll have to take the clothes off.”

“Wrong guess, perverts.” A strangely familiar voice hissed from behind them. Maki turned. Yazawa, still in full makeup, leaned casually in the lab door frame, one of Maki’s black T-shirts hanging nearly down to her knees, feet in a fuzzy purple pair of socks Maki never wore. “You need better security. Now let’s make sure you shut Kira off properly so the rest of my team doesn’t show up here.”

Yazawa moved past Maki, ignoring her, and made a couple of quick gestures at the base of the head. “Good job with the shutdown.”

“Thank you,” Umi nodded. “I tried to be thorough.”

“You’re a keeper,” Yawaza nodded at Umi, then turned to Eli. “You, go to μ's and tell Nozomi I need my emergency gear, especially since the girl genius here doesn’t have any kind of decent make-up removal stuff.” Maki fumed, arms crossing over her chest, as the singer took zero notice of her.

“But …” Eli started.

“If,” and Yazawa’s smile was grim, her hand locked under her bodyguard’s head, her tone brusque, “you don’t leave immediately, Blondie, I hit the panic button, and we all have a nice talk with my superiors. Probably in about ten minutes.”

Eli looked to Maki and Umi. Neither of them had an answer.

“Right,” Eli turned to leave.

Yazawa pulled her back. “And no letting Nozomi distract you. I need that stuff five minutes ago.”

Eli agreed.

Yazawa moved away from the robot, mood confrontational, her index finger jutting right under Maki’s nose. “You are a lousy date. Do you have any food?”

Maki knocked Yazawa’s finger aside, then flushed as the singer’s eyes dropped briefly to the swell of her chest, exposed by the undone buttons. “It wasn’t a date.”

“Food,” Nico snarled, ruby eyes back to demanding a response from Maki.

“She has …”

“Pizza,” Umi and Maki echoed each other.

“No style, no tastebuds … makes sense.” Yazawa eyed Maki doubtfully then turned back to the robot. “Go warm me up a slice, and I’ll open up Kira for you.”

Maki stared at the back of the insanely insufferable demon singer. Umi touched her arm. “Go.”

Maki stormed out of the room, not listening to Umi and Yazawa converse.

WHO ARE YOU

Yazawa had settled into Maki’s couch with a slice of pizza, after opening up the robot head, leaving Maki and Umi alone to work.

She had barked instructions at a seething Maki, though, before flouncing out of the lab. “You’d better not mess up her sense of rhythm. I need them to look good.”

Eli returned very shortly and tossed a green duffel bag on the couch next to the singer.

“Thanks,” Yazawa nodded as she finished the pizza. “How’s NozoNosy?”

“Fine,” Eli grinned. “She said Rin and Honoka were going to meet you in a hour, at the three spot?”

“Good.” Yazawa reached into the bag and pulled out a smaller kit. “Tell the Professor I want to talk to her.”

Eli nodded; Yazawa disappeared into Maki’s bedroom, presumably for the full bath. Eli hurried to the lab. Maki had just stepped back from the table, a metal rod in one hand and a look of awe on her face.

She turned to Eli, her voice cracking with excitement. “It’s organic.”

“What is?”

“The brain,” Umi stated, staring down. “An organoid. They must have grown it; I don’t know how long it would have taken. Looks like 3-D-printed blood vessels.”

Maki whistled. “It’s not that it’s ahead of the science I’ve been working with, it’s just … different. Light years different.”

Eli stepped to the open cranium. The brain was smaller than she expected, and very liquid, goo everywhere in a containment chamber.

“I wonder if they started with some form of mammal brain or if it’s completely artificial? Or just grown from IPSCs?” Umi started taking pictures.

“I’m going to have to review my biology,” Maki admitted. “I’ve been so focused on the EE/AI aspects recently.” Maki typed something above the NZan on her left arm.

“Oh,” Eli suddenly jumped. “Yazawa wants to talk to you, Maki.”

“Why?” Maki shook her head, no intention of leaving this discovery for anything.

“Ask her yourself, Maki. She’s taking off her makeup.”

Maki grumbled as she climbed the stairs. No Yazawa on the couch or in the half bath. So bedroom. Maki paused for a moment, wondering what kind of face was actually hidden under the masks of makeup. The bedroom door was open.

Sounds of water. Maki felt strange pacing in her own bedroom. She moved to the bathroom and knocked. She heard a grunt. Sitting was calmer, calmer than pacing anyway. That’s what the chair was for. Sit and pick up the book you keep next to it. This’ll keep you from thinking constantly about what the walking attitude’s actual appearance was. Robotics. Maki flipped through the pages, suddenly aware of how outmoded the technology described in the book was. Light years different, organic. She speculated if the technique had been developed inside Japan or if the Koreans had had a quantum leap along with their cloning technology. Cloning robot brains. Did the three A-Rise members have the same brain? Maki had never paid attention so wouldn’t be aware of personality differences. Maybe Eli would …

The bathroom door opened, and Maki was confronted by a sight lifted straight from her computer screen. Impish ruby eyes and sharp features, but the tempting lips she’d seen so often in a merry smile were now forced together grimly. Instead of a puckish anti-government prankster cavorting on her computer screen, Maki was confronted with a damp, angry looking No. 1, leader of the IdolFools, ruby eyes afire with acrimony, in her bedroom, in her T-shirt, sans markers or spray cans.

“Some genius.” No. 1 huffed.

Maki put the book down. “... How?”

“Figure it out yourself.”

“You’re …”

No. 1 strode across the room, then bowed. “We’ve never been properly introduced. I’m Lieutenant Colonel Yazawa Nico, Air Special Defense Forces.”

Maki stood. Yazawa had looked small on the screen, but in person she was even tinier. “Doesn’t the military have a height requirement?”

“Oi. You really are a lousy date. Return my greeting, Dr. Rude, and then we can get on with our lives.”

Maki bowed her head slightly, not taking her eyes off the other woman. Yazawa shook her head impatiently and grabbed Maki’s hand. Before Maki could react, her fingers were on the singer’s neck, and she could feel a pulse lively under her fingers. “I’m not actually a demon doll. Or ceramic. That’s the next generation.”

“Right.” Maki pulled her hand back quickly, fingertips burning.

“Nice to see you in person, No. 1,” Umi boomed from the doorway.

Maki turned. “You knew.”

Umi shrugged. “I guessed.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Maki tried not to whine. Yazawa snorted in amusement.

“That your crush was your stalker?” Umi bowed in Yazawa’s direction, while Yazawa quirked an eyebrow at Maki, who turned aside, hand reaching for her hair. “I suspected Yazawa-san might appreciate maintaining her anonymity. Even if she was leaving you clues.”

Nico gave Umi a thumbs up. “Call me Nico. I knew you were a keeper.”

Clues, Maki thought, then slammed her hand into her head. She felt someone grab it, and ruby eyes searched hers with a warmth that made Maki melt the smallest fraction. Then Nico’s purposely grating voice bumped her back to now. “Hey, genius, you probably need those IQ points.” Then a shrug and back to … concern? So many switches of tone, Maki couldn’t pin down any one feeling. It was all a rush. Of everything. Of too much. With Nico striding boldly into her next jump while Maki stumbled standing still. “You would have figured it out eventually, your little group snatch stunt just accelerated everyone’s timeline.” Nico glanced at the dresser clock. “And I have to go.”

“You can’t,” Maki said.

Nico sighed and spoke slowly, precisely. “I have to go. I have to make an appearance as No. 1 so that she and Nico Ni don’t go missing at the same time. I will be back. Just finish with Kira as soon as you can. But leave her open; I’ve got to get some kind of programming fix for this downtime.”

“How?” Umi wondered.

Yazawa winked. “I know a girl.” She pulled a pair of grey pants out of her duffle and stepped into them. “Now, don’t hurt my robot, and I’ll explain more later. Right now, I’ve got some inspiration mixed with frustration to paint out.” She started to step past Maki, then stopped, hand to the doctor’s cheek. “Try not to miss the great Nico Ni too much.”

Maki just growled when Yazawa danced around her and left. Then Maki grabbed Umi’s shirt and pushed her against the wall. Umi was amused enough at her friend’s obvious distress to let her.

“Tell me,” Maki ordered.

Eli arrived. “What’s going on?”

“She knew Nico-chan the street tagger and Nico Ni the singer were the same.” Maki heard herself say the names. Oh right. No wonder Yazawa had used that tone. Slow. Definitely slow.

“She also knew the other two street taggers and Nozomi,” Eli added, frowning at Umi.

“What?” Maki dropped her hold.

Umi smiled sweetly.

“Is there anything else?” Maki wondered.

Umi hesitated, but only for a second. “I’m dating Eli’s sister.”

“YOU’RE WHAT?” Eli’s roar was louder than Maki’s had been, and she shoved Maki to the side, towering over Umi suddenly.

Umi didn’t blink and her voice was mild. “Alisa misses you terribly. She hopes to return to Japan soon.”

Maki sat on her bed with sigh. “Leave her alone, Eli. We need to finish with the robot.” She paused. “The Lieutenant Colonel …” was Yazawa really in the military? She didn’t seem the type at all, “will be returning.”

“You’d better check the video feeds if she’s out there.” Umi reminded her.

“Oh right,” No. 1 was out on the street and Maki felt a familiar thrill at the thought of watching her impish grin as she showed off her latest creation. Which suddenly collided with the image of a tiny, damp, angry Yazawa Nico, voice scoffing “genius” as she brushed rudely by.

#fanfic #love live #nicomaki #soldier game #yazawa nico #nishikino maki #IdolPunk #IdolFools AU #cyberpunk #ayase eli #sonoda umi

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