Chapter Text
2010, Jan. 3; Washington D.C.
He won't listen, damn him. The Americans were known for their stubbornness but this?
<<"The reality of the situation, Mr. President, is that they have alrea-">>
<<"The reality is that we can take care of our own. I understand your position but we can handle a little foreign influence.">>
<<"That's the problem! It's not just infl-">>
<<"-live from Japan, Charlotte what can you tell us?">>
Different backgrounds, different countries, different cultures. Two men argue in a room that has seen many others come and go. It has seen wars start and wars end.
<<"Mary, it's -̡̼͚̣̦̜̜̄̋̌̀̚-͙͕̩̤͈̬͆̾ͪͅ-̮̺͙-̲̯͔̯̈ͪ-̧͖̞̌̌ͦ̐̌-̎͑ͬͬ̋̑͜-̥̘̭̣̗͙̽̎ͦ̔̑ nothing ever seen be-̡̼͚̣̦̜̜̄̋̌̀̚-͙͕̩̤͈̬͆̾ͪͅ-̮̺͙-̲̯͔̯̈ͪ-̧͖̞̌̌ͦ̐̌-̎͑ͬͬ̋̑͜-̥̘̭̣̗͙̽̎ͦ̔̑Some sort of storm. -̡̼͚̣̦̜̜̄̋̌̀̚-͙͕̩̤͈̬͆̾ͪͅ-̮̺͙-̲̯͔̯̈ͪ-̧͖̞̌̌ͦ̐̌-̎͑ͬͬ̋̑͜-̥̘̭̣̗͙̽̎ͦ̔̑ unparalleled. No warn-̡̼͚̣̦̜̜̄̋̌̀̚-͙͕̩̤͈̬͆̾ͪͅ-̮̺͙-̲̯͔̯̈ͪ-̌̌ͦ̐-̎͑ͬͬ̋̑͜-̥̘̭̣̗͙̽̎ͦ̔̑ A true freak of na-̡̼͚̣̦̜̜̄̋̌̀̚-͙͕̩̤͈̬͆̾ͪͅ-̮̺͙-̲̯͔̯̈ͪ-̧͖̞̌̌ͦ̐̌-̎͑ͬͬ̋̑͜-̥̘̭̣̗͙̽̎ͦ̔̑">>
The room has seen desicions made centuries past that still affect today.
<<"Charlotte? Charlotte, you're breaking up. Can we get a better signal?">>
Yet this is different. A beginning to something no one can predict and few can explain.
They both grow silent, turning towards the TV in the room. It shows a horror unleashed. Dark, violent purple clouds swirling. Buildings are being broken apart, slowly. Methodically. Brick by brick, piece by piece, everything is being unraveled. Trees disintegrate and dust remains in their place. Street lights and signs twist and turn before being pulled apart.
<<"Every -̡̼͚̣̦̜̜̄̋̌̀̚-͙͕̩̤͈̬͆̾ͪͅ-̮̺͙-̲̯͔̯̈ͪ-̧͖̞̌̌ͦ̐̌-̎͑ͬͬ̋̑͜-̥̘̭̣̗͙̽̎ͦ̔̑ a pulse goe-̡̼͚̣̦̜̜̄̋̌̀̚-͙͕̩̤͈̬͆̾ͪͅ-̮̺͙-̲̯͔̯̈ͪ-̧͖̞̌̌ͦ̐̌-̎͑ͬͬ̋̑͜-̥̘̭̣̗͙̽̎ͦ̔̑People are d-̡̼͚̣̦̜̜̄̋̌̀̚-͙͕̩̤͈̬͆̾ͪͅ-̮̺͙-̲̯͔̯̈ͪ-̧͖̞̌̌ͦ̐̌-̎͑ͬͬ̋̑͜-̥̘̭̣̗͙̽̎ͦ̔̑">>
Two men watch in horror as reality comes undone. In the center is a light, somehow dense. Somehow solid.
In front of him headlines crawl across the screen. He's able to make out a few words as a cold chill crawls up his spine.
SPICE CITY DISASTER
Home.
Ritsu hadn't been home in years. Hasn't had a home in years. He had been abroad to study but something came up. Now he has a job, a career, but not a place to call home.
His phone is in his hand before he fully realizes what he's seeing. His fingers move, screen scrolling till he comes across a number. It's an old one. Disused, disconnected. But it's all he has so he's kept it. How many years has it been? How many years since he heard his voice or even saw his face? Would he recognize him? Would he want to? Would he be welcome or rejected?
Ritsu hasn't seen his brother since he disappeared. Not since Shigeo...
Beside him his assistant gasps. Instead of static and the chattering of newscasters there's screaming.
<<"Charlotte! Charlie, oh my god CHARLIE!">>
Sirens wail but the screams fall silent.
<<"I'm sorry we- Our connection with my wif- our correspondent has been lost. We'll...Chuck. What can you tell us?">>
The screen changes, a still picture fills it. That light again but there, in the middle of the chaos. A small speck, small enough to be a man. Ritsu pales, cold sweat drips down his back. It's too familiar.
"Shige..." It's a whisper, quiet. Nobody else hears it. He grits his teeth and half runs out of the room with his assistant close behind. The other man calls after him, confused questions falling on deaf ears.
"Rei! Cancel all my meetings. Go to the hotel and stay there. If anybody calls except me ignore it. Don't open the door for anybody excep-"
"You and the boss. I know protocol and I know how to defend myself. I'll keep it safe. I'm not a damned idiot."
He smiles. "I'm sorry. You're right. I'll see you soon."
They separate, phone in his hand, an unmarked contact pulled up. He doesn't give the other end a chance to speak when he picks up.
"Suzuki. It's Kageyama. I need a favor."