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Homeplot (2)

Chapter 1:
The Empty Room in Osaka

Apartment 217, in a nondescript block of an apartment building on the outskirts of downtown Osaka, Japan.

Laying on a bare floor, a clunky mobile phone began to ring. Despite the amount of money such a phone would cost in the late part of the eighties, before the big rush really began, it wasn't even the most expensive item in the room. The real treasures in this tiny, bare apartment had to do with what was in the closet, which bore a simple combination lock.

The ringing seeped into O-Ren's consciousness even as she struggled to wake up. How late had she been out last night? That wasn't like her, and surely Angua and Dean would have had questions. Was she sick, then? Why the heavy haze around her? The fucking ringing was beginning to wear itself out, too.

O-Ren snapped up from her futon so quickly that she had to brace against the window. She was no longer even a bit sleepy, so aware she couldn't keep her hands from shaking as she patted herself down. Same self that had gone to bed the night before.

But a look around confirmed this was her old apartment. Only a few pots to boil ramen in. Blood spots she'd never bothered to clean up. Locked closet. Mobile phone ringing on the ground. She'd cut the regular telephone line herself, preferring this.

It stopped ringing, and O-Ren took a deep breath. "What the fuck."

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"It will work," O-Ren said, though she was busily stripping down and dressing herself in a fairly standard uniform. In it, she could easily belong to any of several schools.

She pulled a basket out, one with some brushes and tubes of lip gloss and a couple of trinkets. "Brush your hair, put the lip gloss on," she directed, "and then tell me what you know about shooting a gun."

That said, O-Ren opened the other half of the closet, which was stocked ceiling to floor with weapons.

Arya dragged the brush through her hair a couple of times, realized that probably wasn't going to cut it, and added in a few more before she tied her hair back.

Then she stared at the lip gloss as if it were unfamiliar and poisonous to boot, but she knew the theory, at least. She put it on.

"I have an M9 at home," Arya said, halting briefly on the concept of home before plunging on, "and I've shot a P90 submachine gun before. I know enough."

"We'll be traveling lighter than that," O-Ren said, tossing her a backpack that rattled a little with bullets-- more than bullets, really, there were some knives, anything she thought could be useful.

"You watched the movie, right?"

She began the process of wrapping her katana in a colorful cloth, so that it would draw little notice. Her other, shorter sword, went under her uniform jacket.

"I did," Arya confirmed, opening it up and rifling through it, coming up with a couple of knives, which vanished into her sleeves, before she slung the bag onto her back.

She thought back to the movie, but of course this bit hadn't been in it. She hadn't been in it at all. She would have liked some idea of whereabouts they'd go from here.

But then, she'd started getting used to never getting where she meant to go, anyway.

"Today is the day after I killed Matsumoto," O-Ren said. It seemed pretty fucking unfair at this juncture that she'd lived it more than once at this point, but still couldn't tell what was happening. "I assume that since his people are on the movie, I did not accomplish a clean sweep."

From there, O-Ren strapped on a thigh holster, one of her own that had been made with her size particularly in mind.

"We don't have a lot of options. Right now, we just need to run. We'll take the train to Tokyo."

Arya nodded, practicing getting to her knives a couple of times. That was the problem with short sleeves; you couldn't keep something as immediately to hand. Still, she could cope.

"Do you know how many are coming?" she asked, moving to press her ear to the door.

The problem was that she didn't know what events in a building like this typically sounded like, so it was harder to pick out something odd. She'd hear running, though, she thought.

"No more than five, I'd say." Sliding a handgun into each holster, she went for the last thing on her internal list, a small fireproof box, which went into the cutesy backpack. "They won't want to pull police attention. This sort of thing stays under the radar."

O-Ren opened the window. "Lock the door, and we'll go this way."

"We're not going to kill them?" Arya said, but she did as O-Ren asked even as she said it. She locked the door and made for the window. "They won't be expecting two of us here."

Then again, the space did feel almost cornered. For all she knew, they'd just shoot through the door and walls and then check.

"Not here," O-Ren said, crouching neatly on the fire escape. "If all else fails, we'll have to ditch what we have and play the police first. The cops will believe a crying girl in a school uniform, but not if she has the apartment of a hired killer."

She took the safety off her handiest gun, just in case.

"Area's too populated anyway."

She was starting to see that, as she joined O-Ren on the little metal staircase outside the window. She'd never seen streets like this; she'd never had a problem with heights, but she almost felt dizzy.

"Right," she said, discreetly holding onto a rail to steady herself. "Down?"

"Hai," O-Ren murmured, though mostly because they needed to stay quiet now. "Down. But don't stare at it too much or you'll be sick." She reached out, fingers slipping between Arya's fingers. "Come on now."

With a little tug, she began the descent.

"I will not," Arya said, but quietly, matching O-Ren's volume, and she stopped staring, keeping her eyes on where she was stepping and the girl in front of her.

And her ears open for any sound from the apartment they'd just vacated, although that was hard; this place was loud. Compared to the island, certainly, but she thought maybe louder than Braavos, too, although it was hard to be sure. That had been so long ago.

It had been a long time since O-Ren had heard the roar of the city, but she found it a comfort. They could disappear into that, she knew it. And Tokyo would only be a bigger ocean to swallow them up.

I can do this.

"Ganbarou," she whispered cheerfully to Arya, and was gratified when her feet hit the pavement.

The ground was harder than she expected, even landing as lightly as she always did, and she almost didn't hear O-Ren, caught up in watching a car. She knew it was a car, she'd seen one not working in a scrapyard, and in motion in one of the few films she'd seen, but it was still faintly strange.

She mentally shook herself. "Which way?"

"This way," O-Ren said. It seemed funny to her that they might be safer speaking in English. She half-sprinted to a sign that neatly laid out the nearest train stations, tracing the lines with her finger. "I should still have some money, enough that we won't have to sneak on," she told Arya.

She blinked, finally seeming to realize something. The way Arya had looked at that car.... "Have you ever seen a train?"

Arya was staring at the lines, trying to interpret them the way O-Ren seemed to be.

"Where would I have seen a train?" she said defensively; she'd gotten so used to knowing every corner and feature of the island, to being Arya Underfoot again, that suddenly being somewhere entirely strange and new again, being lost, rankled some.

So she didn't add that she wasn't sure what a train was, precisely. Something like cars, only you couldn't steer, she thought.

"The island has done stranger shit than trains," O-Ren said bluntly. "And I don't know much about where you come from." She glanced around. "It'll be better when we get to Tokyo, but here, there's nothing I can do to make you disappear. The only way to blend in is to stand out as a gaijin. It will keep us both safe. No one will try anything in the open, especially if they think you're an American."

She pulled a small, bright Hello Kitty wallet from her skirt pocket, and counted out the money. "If we get separated, use this to get to Tokyo." Realizing that she'd been more bossy than usual, she flushed a little. "You're not the one they're trying to kill. I... I'd rather have you chance it on your own, if we need to, than see anything happen."

"We're not getting separated," Arya said, although she took the money anyway; whatever she said, she knew you couldn't rely on things like that. "In winter, the lone wolf dies, while the pack survives."

But she'd always survived, anyway. The words were mostly for O-Ren. Arya knew what it was like to be alone in the world and then have the people you thought would stick with you leave you to fend for yourself.

She found that she wanted to hold Arya's hand again, but she rested her fingers on the gun at her thigh instead, where it was concealed under cloth. "That's probably why I turn out so fucked up, ne?"

Not wanting to stay any longer than they needed, she nodded for Arya to follow.

"...do you mean that?" she asked after a minute. "I would rather draw them away than have you hurt, but...."

"And what, I get stuck here on my own, not even knowing what a fucking train looks like?" Arya said, falling into step beside her, resisting the urge to look behind her. Normal people walking somewhere didn't constantly glance behind themselves.

That wasn't the only reason, of course, but Arya felt she should point out her reasons had logic as well as sentiment behind them. "Of course I mean it. We stick together."

"You'd figure it out," O-Ren said. "You'd figure it all out." She let out a slow breath. "Then I won't leave you. Even if it gets messy."

The smile she shot over her shoulder was a little brighter than usual. "It will get messy."

Arya's return smile had a tinge of the feral to it.

"I'm not afraid of messy," she said.

She'd rather messy than the stupid skirt and bow. She wondered how long she'd have to keep them on.

Probably too long.

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