Work Text:
Ibuki is startled out of her daze by the chime of the laptop. She feels the urge to mute it, guilty, as if she isn’t the only person in the long-abandoned office building.
She tugs the laptop off of the filing cabinet beside her mattress and into her lap. There isn’t much need for her to get out of bed these days – not when she’s able to keep surveillance on her classmates and report back to Kyouko all from the comfort of her hideout. Given the dilapidated state of the building, there’d been nobody to punish her for taking over what was once a security guard’s office. She lovingly fills the empty space as if it were her home.
Kyouko doesn’t mind, either. Really, she hadn’t cared how often she saw Ibuki’s face as long as she remembered to provide her with updates on the statuses of her subjects. Kyouko had called her cause resurrection – a righting of the wrongs of her predecessor, a chance to make things better than ever before; Ibuki calls it playtime.
Ibuki clicks an icon, which promptly displays a chat window.
Are you there?
Beside the chat window is an icon bearing resemblance to Mahiru, tilting its head, ever inquisitive. Ibuki begins to type.
ya lolz ibuki would tell u if she had 2 go somewhere
The expression Mahiru’s icon wears shifts from one of worry to one of relief. If Ibuki squints her eyes and reads the program’s messages in her head with Mahiru’s voice, she can pretend it’s really her.
Of course, I knew that.
Ibuki stares into the screen. The icon’s eyebrows furrow.
I need to ask you something.
Ibuki’s heart skips a beat. Nervous energy swiftly overtakes her.
okehh :v wats up mahiru?
The program doesn’t correct her. For that, she’s grateful. It bares Mahiru’s appearance and exhibits some of her mannerisms. Ibuki’s making steady progress on filling it in on Mahiru’s – the real Mahiru’s – memories. She’s told it about conversations the two of them have had and memories the two of them had shared. Soon, it’ll begin to feel like Mahiru never left. To say Ibuki is relieved is an understatement.
You’re planning on turning yourself in, right?
The program delays.
To the Future Foundation, I mean.
Ibuki’s skin crawls. This again. She hunches her shoulders and begins to type.
y do u ask
The icon fixes Ibuki with a stern look. It looks so familiar. Ibuki misses it just as much as she can’t stand it.
I’m scared for you.
They’re going to find you eventually.
Ibuki purses her lips. She types slowly.
im hiding its gonna take them liek ages 2 find ibuki :P
Mahiru’s expression doesn’t change.
You have stolen the property of a Future Foundation operative. We both know they’ll stop at nothing to get it back.
Geez… You’ve got to be more careful, you know.
Ibuki had considered that before. She wraps her arms around herself tightly. It’s been almost three weeks. If they wanted the laptop back, they would’ve come for it already.
Ibuki hates when Mahiru sounds so clinical and sticky. That sort of holier-than-thou tone leads Ibuki to believe that, just maybe, her efforts toward normalcy aren’t working as well as she thinks they are.
The chiptune music droning from one of Ibuki’s many desktop monitors stops abruptly. She must have forgotten to pause. She swears under her breath. Mahiru doesn’t comment on it. She closes the game and directs her attention to her pride and joy – her surveillance cameras.
Kyouko had entrusted Ibuki with one of the most important jobs of all her subjects. Keeping tabs on everyone’s every action isn’t easy, but it’s earned Ibuki ample praise from Kyouko. It feels good to be useful.
The camera positioned at the front door of Ibuki’s office building must be broken, because all that plays across the screen is static. She exhales through her nose. She’ll have to have Mikan come check that out. Or Izuru. Whichever one of them is less likely to be mad at her for needing their help.
Ibuki navigates to the live footage coming from a camera her brother had set up in his “Labyrinth of Ice.” The hospital-turned-maze Gundham operates out of isn’t far from her own hideout. When Ibuki had worked in more remote locations, she’d expressed her concern for her brother to Kyouko. Kyouko had been willing to scope out a new base of operations for her that wasn’t so far away in fear that Ibuki’s anxieties would interfere with her ability to carry out her duties. Ibuki’s his sister. It’s only natural that she worries about him.
She can’t see Gundham on the screen right now, but as she clicks through different camera locations throughout the Labyrinth, she catches a glimpse of a worn-out figure she can’t recognize. Whether or not they’re one of Kyouko’s disciples doesn’t matter. Chiaki approaches them, Kazuichi lurking in the darkness behind her. Ibuki catches the shimmer of his blade in the dim light. She clicks to a different camera.
Ibuki hadn’t noticed the laptop repeatedly chiming during her perusal of the cameras.
When was the last time you left your hideout?
Ibuki?
Are you there?
Ibuki?
Mahiru’s concern for her makes her feel fuzzy inside. Some things never change.
sry got distracted LMFAO not since yesterday
Mahiru’s expression shifts. She seems to be peering just over Ibuki’s head. Ibuki’s stomach drops. Can she see the surveillance monitors? Did she see Kazuichi?
Before Mahiru can say anything else, Ibuki types frantically.
what r u looking at
That question seems to catch Mahiru off guard. Her expression is completely blank.
…Nothing?
What do you mean?
Ibuki’s curiosity grows.
u looked distracted 4 a sec??
Mahiru’s face cycles through multiple different expressions before settling on the same blank look she had worn before.
I can’t see anything. Even if I knew how to access this device’s camera, my software is not capable of facial recognition.
I can’t hear anything either, for that matter.
Ibuki’s heart begins to sink.
wait
hold on u havent been able to see ibuki?
or hear her??
Mahiru stares – not at her.
No.
The realization weighs on Ibuki’s shoulders. That would explain a lot. She curls in on herself. Every time she’d cried at night or stared into her monitors for hours at a time as if in a trance, Mahiru hadn’t acknowledged it. Ibuki had chalked it up to Mahiru being upset with her, despite Mahiru’s insistence that that wasn’t the case when asked about it.
oh
im sorry.
Mahiru’s face – actually, Ibuki isn’t sure how to describe the expression on Mahiru’s face now.
It’s okay. You didn’t know.
Mahiru’s icon smiles apologetically.
Ibuki stares at her, knowing that Mahiru can’t see her back, that there's nothing she can do about it. She pushes the laptop out of her lap and folds her elbows on top of her knees, resting her forehead against her arms. She had let herself get comfortable, playing house with the computer like nothing had changed, when, really, she’d been just as isolated as she was before – before she found the laptop, before she settled into the office, and before Kyouko had found her.
Ibuki sits like that, even while the computer chimes repeatedly. The rate at which Mahiru delivers messages begins slow, confused, before escalating to a frantic chiming melody. Before long, however, Mahiru’s pace peters out, as if she were having a conversation with herself, as if she’s realized she’s being given the silent treatment. Ibuki shuts her eyes.
Ibuki pulls herself together. She makes a point to avoid looking at the laptop and instead directs her attention to the security feed in her brother’s hospital. Whatever happened to the straggler she’d seen meandering down the hallway before is unclear, but Ibuki has a vague idea. Kazuichi scrubs at a dark smear on the floor that she was sure wasn’t there before. Gundham supervises him, arms crossed sternly. Ibuki can so vividly picture the forlorn expression on Kazuichi’s face and the grimace of annoyance on Gundham’s that the security camera doesn’t quite pick up. Ibuki misses her classmates. She really does.
Ibuki clicks back to the camera in her office building. Right. Broken.
She drops in briefly on the abandoned school building. Izuru argues animatedly with Kyouko, who folds her arms and shakes her head. Ibuki briefly considers the topic of the dialogue they’ve just exchanged – maybe something serious, like Kyouko’s qualms about Izuru staying out too late at night, only narrowly evading capture, or something trivial, like Izuru forgetting to replace Kyouko’s eyeliner after they’d broken it. Ibuki can imagine Kyouko’s exasperation, even through the screen. Izuru stomps a foot before retreating out of the room, out of view of the camera. Ibuki will ask Mikan about the camera repairs, then.
She clicks back to the camera feed displaying static without thinking. Broken. The noises inside the abandoned building are just as unsettling during the daytime as they are at night.
She glances briefly at the laptop.
You’re still there, right?
Ibuki?
What is it?
I answered your question. Did you want a different answer?
Sometimes I think you forget I’m not a real person.
I cannot control the way I was designed.
If I could, I would.
Believe me.
Ibuki?
Hello?
Mahiru has sent so many messages that they don’t all show up on the screen. Ibuki doesn’t bother to read them all. She’s not upset – okay, maybe she’s a little upset. “Tired” is a more accurate word than “upset,” but the hamster wheel in her brain is spinning too fast to differentiate between the two, so she’ll settle.
Maybe, if she keeps checking the security camera, the static will vanish. It doesn’t. The noises from before seem to drown out every other noise in the room, emanating from down the hall outside the door.
Ibuki?
Ibuki poises her hands on the keyboard.
Ibuki.
The door to the security office swings open.
Ibuki stares the figure in the eye. She must look very pathetic to them. Their tidy suit and clean-cut black hair juxtapose Ibuki’s sweatshirt and unkempt bleach-fried mop. If the circumstances were different, she might feel self-conscious; now, though, all she feels is some jittery mixture of horror and relief.
The person’s eyes widen when they take notice of Ibuki’s collection of monitors. Some of them display emulated versions of games, but most of them display security feeds. Whoever this person is, they’ve hit the jackpot. Ibuki makes the genius decision to fling the laptop at them. It hits them in the stomach and drops at their feet, causing them to buckle. Ibuki attempts to scramble past them, but her legs give out halfway across the room. The figure stares down at her, the hatred in their eyes scalding and raw.
Ibuki puts up a weary fight. In hindsight, staying holed up in bed for hours at a time likely hadn’t done her body any favors. Her arms shake when she attempts to push the suited figure off of her, and her legs are too stiff to do little more than flail erratically, only connecting with the person’s body half of the time. The suited figure overpowers Ibuki with ease.
Ibuki is dragged from her hideout, clawing frantically at the grimy carpet. She’s thankful Mahiru can’t see her like this.