Work Text:
snip snip snip
Long strands of pink hair that once stretched down to her knees fell to the floor of the bathroom stall. She pulled out the hairtie that once kept her ponytail in place, letting her braids fall loose with it, which meant more cutting. That wasn’t the easiest thing to do, since she didn’t have a free hand to hold the broken mirror with and had to hunch over the toilet, but she considered herself lucky to have even this and a tiny pair of grade school safety scissors. Younger inmates like herself were tasked with taking care of the older ex-yakuza members and typically weren’t permitted to carry anything that could potentially be used to harm them. She could only hope Mr. Mima would be alright without her.
Iroha Tamaki was currently serving a four-year sentence for bond forgery in Fuchū prison. By now, she only had three months left to go, but after a visit from her little sister on her 23rd birthday, she just couldn’t wait that long anymore.
She retrieved several large plastic bags from the toilet tank, containing pieces of a prison guard’s uniform. She pulled the pieces from the bags and quickly changed out of her regulation white vest.
With a deep breath, she left the staff bathroom and walked down the corridor, passing by the workshops with an air of confidence. The other inmates seemed too busy working- ones her age making bags and t-shirs, and the elderly with no more grueling a task than assembling plastic laundry pegs- to pay her any mind. She passed a row of cells with prisoners and guards walking in her direction. Less than ideal, but her hair was several centimeters shorter than before, so she wasn’t too worried about anyone recognizing her. She quickly snagged a key card off of the last guard as they passed each other.
At the end of this corridor was the staff area, and a barred door which would be Iroha’s final obstacle. She slid the card she had taken into the reader, and the door buzzed. As she pushed it open, though, she was blocked by a guard. He looked her up and down for a moment, as if trying to place where he’d seen her before, but eventually smiled and let her pass.
Iroha Tamaki, an inmate of Japan’s highest security prison, pushed open the front door and stepped out into the street.
Just wait for me, Ui. I’ll find you.
At a nearby bank, Agent Yachiyo Nanami waited not-so-patiently outside the room while one of her men cracked the code to a safe.
click click click “Drop. Six.” he called out.
Yachiyo let out an anxious breath.
click click click “Drop. Seven.”
She braced herself on the shoulder of another agent who was watching the locksmith through the bank’s security cameras.
click click click “Drop. Two. All pins down, preparing to open.”
As everyone else silently celebrated, Yachiyo paused. “Six, seven, two… WAIT—”
BOOM
Smoke filled the safe room, setting off the building’s fire alarms. Everyone either pulled the collars of their shirts up over their noses or held handkerchiefs over their faces to block out the foul air. Yachiyo rushed in and pulled the locksmith out of the room. “Are you okay?”
The locksmith nodded, coughing. “What happened?”
“I said wait, you didn’t wait!” Yachiyo cried out in frustration. “This close to Sanobashi, and you blow up my evidence!”
“Agent Nanami, how did you even know it was gonna do that?” asked one of the other agents.
“The numpads on your phones have the English alphabet, right? Spell it.”
The other agent’s shocked face drooped. “Oh. NPA. I guess they knew we were coming.”
“You think?!” Yachiyo pulled a strip of wire from her shoulder, waving it around angrily. “Somebody wanna tell me what this is? Huh? Anybody?” Everyone shook their heads. Yachiyo sighed in defeat. “Nobody knows what it is, great. Where’s Light?”
“H-he’s on a call, ma’am.”
“Then go get him.”
The brunette nodded and quickly rushed off, returning a moment later with another brown-haired male. “You seeing this, Yagami?” Yachiyo vented to the man. “Apparently, our guy’s got a sense of humor.”
The man didn’t respond, looking her sternly in the face.
“What?”
“Iroha Tamaki escaped.”
After staring back for a moment, Yachiyo took the man by the shoulder and started walking with him the way he came. “Are they sure?”
Light nodded. “Walked right out the front door dressed as a guard. PSIA director asked for you personally.”
“Me? Why would they want my help?”
“Probably because you’re the only one who’s ever caught her.”
“Agent Nanami,” the director greeted. “Appreciate the help. You were the case agent?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you had a chance to go over the surveillance footage of Tamaki’s escape on the way here?”
“Yes, sir.”
“So you’ll agree that we have an unusual situation.”
Yachiyo nodded. “Why would Iroha run with three months left on a four-year sentence?”
“We may have some idea. Her birthday was two weeks ago.”
“So, what, she was expecting a “get out of jail free” card as a present?”
“Well, she did have a visitor…”
Yachiyo was brought into a private room where she, the PSIA director, one of the prison wardens, and several other agents pored over a video of Iroha talking to her little sister, Ui. “No audio?” The warden shook their head.
“She comes here every week, like clockwork.”
“She doesn’t seem too thrilled about this visit.”
On the video, Iroha pressed her hand to the glass as Ui stood.
“How soon can we get a lip reader in here?”
“I can save you the trouble,” Yachiyo interjected. ““Goodbye, Iroha. Thank you for everything.””
Ui walked offscreen. Iroha looked visibly distraught, betrayed.
“Did she come back the next week?”
The director shook his head. “She never came back.”
“Then we’ve got our M.O.. Let’s find Ui.”
Inconspicuous police cars pulled up to the empty house in Takarazaki. Yachiyo entered, stalking through the home until she reached a child’s bedroom. One side of the room had been completely cleared out, even the carpet abruptly stopped halfway across the floor. Sat on her bed was Iroha Tamaki, holding an empty bottle of Domaine Takahiko Pinot Noir. “I see Ui’s moved out.”
Iroha sighed, blinking back tears.
“She leave you a message in that?”
“The bottle is the message.”
“It’s been a while.”
“Yeah. A few years, give or take.”
“Are you armed?”
Iroha let out a sound between a sob and a laugh. “You know I hate guns.”
“They asked me, what makes a girl like you pull a boneheaded escape with three months to go? I should’ve known it’d be your precious little sister. Ui finally estranges you in prison, then gets busy with her disappearing act. Her trail ends here. But you already knew that.”
Iroha hung her head. “I missed her by two days.”
“Still, it only took you two weeks to escape Fuchū, of all places. Impressive.” Yachiyo radioed her backup outside. “All clear. Subject identified and unarmed.”
Iroha’s eyes widened. “Are we surrounded?”
Yachiyo nodded.
“How many?”
“Pretty much all of them.” Yachiyo gestured to the bottle in Iroha’s hands. “So what’s the message?”
“It’s more like a suicide note. “I’d rather die than heal myself with dirty money”.”
Yachiyo stayed quiet for a moment. “They’re gonna give you another four years for this, y’know.”
“I don’t care. I just want Ui to get better.”
“You really do have too big a heart for prison, Tamaki.”
“That’s the same pantsuit you were wearing the last time you arrested me, too.”
Yachiyo looked herself over in the mirror hanging on the other side of the door. “Huh. I didn’t even plan for that.”
The two chuckled. Iroha got up from the bed, holding up a hand to show she meant no harm, and pulled a wire from Yachiyo’s coat. “Do you know what this is?”
Yachiyo shook her head. “Got it from the case I was working on before they yanked me off to find you.”
“Think you’ll catch him?”
Yachiyo shrugged.
“What’s it worth if I tell you what this is? Is it worth a meeting?”
“What are you talking about?”
“If I tell you what this is right now, will you agree to meet me back in prison in three days?”
“Three days?!”
“However long it takes to verify what I'm saying, and it's just a meeting. Do you trust me?”
Yachiyo sighed in defeat. “Okay. As long as you’re right.”
“It’s a security ribbon the U.S. added to their $100 bills a decade ago. They’re thinking about adding it to their tens and twenties.”
A mass of footsteps raced down the hall. Iroha reached over, picked up the bottle and handed it to Yachiyo. “Take care of this for me. Please?” Iroha already had her hands raised as the agents barged into the room. A young man was already grabbing at her to cuff her. “Three days. If it takes any longer, make sure I get the message.”