Chapter Text
Kurumi had never been one for classical literature. Preferring the digital landscape to paper, lines of code as opposed to lines of text, she’d never had too much reason to look into fiction. And this made sense for someone like her—what use are fairytales to the greatest hacker in the world?
Unfortunately, this was one of those times where she probably could’ve afforded to study up just a little bit before setting out.
“Wtf bro doesn’t know the tale of the bamboo cutter what rock is he living under”
“Says he's the Greatest hacker when five year olds know more about books than him”
Not one to be looked down upon (metaphorically, at least), Kurumi had gotten to work, compiling every volume of the original tale that she could find and picking the best-acclaimed ones to read. Within the next three hours, she was a certified Tale of Princess Kaguya Pro™.
Her thoughts?
…It was surprisingly complicated, for a story thousands of years old.
Some people on discussion forums clown on the emperor. They call him a fool, saying that if he’d just taken the elixir of immortality, then in a few thousand years, perhaps less, Japan might have had the first man on the moon instead of America.
Those people are reductionist dumbasses who’d fold like wet tissues if you met them IRL.
“If he’d just been patient, he would’ve seen her again!” And? Kaguya put on that celestial robe. She forgot all about the Earth and mortality. The emperor would have been nothing but a stranger—no, an insect in a strange shell to her. And that’s assuming that the emperor doesn’t lose his humanity too, when he drinks the elixir.
Of course, there was still a chance. There always was. Perhaps upon seeing the emperor again, Kaguya’s memories would have miraculously returned? Or, maybe, upon being returned to earth, she would have fallen in love with humanity all over again?
It would have been a tiny, almost nonexistent chance, but a chance nonetheless. It’s fiction, after all, and the author gets to pull whatever bullshit they want whenever they want. It’s why Kurumi usually doesn’t touch it with a ten foot pole.
…Of course, all of this begs the question:
What would she do?
What should he have done? Taken the elixir and held onto hope, only for it to almost certainly be dashed in a few thousand years?
Or was burning the elixir and putting a definitive end to his suffering the right call?
Of course, no matter what the choice is, it’s not Kurumi’s choice to make.
She sighs, rubbing her eyes before sliding the closet door open, yawning as she drags herself to the kitchen. She really needs to get to sleep soon.
“Oh, heya, Kurumi!”
“Kurumi.”
The cafe’s closed by now, the two people before her being the ones to close up for tonight.
Kurumi grips the waist of her clothes. This isn’t going to be a fun conversation.
“I have a lead. Regarding Chisato’s heart.”
###
“You seriously don’t know about Iroha Sakayori?!”
Takina scoffs at her partner’s outburst as she takes her smart contacts out. “Of course, I do. Kurumi just informed us—she’s the director of Sakayori Bio-Robotics and outside of the Alan institute, she’s the world’s leader in neurologically connected prosthetics. She’s our ticket to a new heart.”
“She might be our ticket. Plus, that’s not what I’m talking about! C’mon, Takina, haven’t you heard of Kaguya and Iro-P? Spectacular singer/songwriter duo? Climbed to the top of Tsukuyomi in two months before Kaguya dipped? The one who still does music and performs with Yachiyo?”
“Yachiyo…?”
“Ugh, you’re totally impossible! Well, I guess you’ll figure it out soon,” Chisato says, following suit. “Since we’re about to listen to them live!”
What does any of this have to do with getting Chisato a new heart?
It doesn’t matter. The two of them arrived at Sakayori Bio-Robotics early and at Chisato’s insistence, had logged into Tsukuyomi to ‘develop an appreciation for Japan’s number one idol!’
Which was irrelevant. But if it meant a bit more time with Chisato where she could run after bad guys and risk getting attacked, or shot, or hurt…
Takina supposed that she didn’t mind all that much.
“Tell me more.”
“Eh?”
“About Kaguya and Iro-P. You’re a fan of them, right?”
And when Chisato smiles, making indecipherable sounds of happiness as she wraps Takina up into an embrace that sends blood shooting up the back of her neck, she finds that she wouldn’t trade this moment for the world.
###
“And then, she just left?”
“Yep! They had one concert with Yachiyo, and boom! Gone. No one really knows what happened. Maybe she was a foreign exchange student who was staying for the Summer? Ooh, or maybe she really was an alien and her family came to pick her up!”
A week ago, Takina would have sniped right back at stupidity like that. A week ago, Takina would have cooly replied, “If only someone would pick you up,” and Chisato would laugh while faking tears, clinging to her while begging her to take it back, both of them laughing and basking in the warmth of the moment for far too long. A week ago, they had the time to waste on things like that.
A week ago, she wasn’t being timed.
“That must have been hard for Iro-P,” Takina eventually says, feeling awkward just sitting there and waiting for Chisato to continue.
“Right? I even got a little scared, when she basically went radio silent for a few days! But fast forward a bit, and boom! She’s right back with Yachiyo like nothing ever happened! Y’know, I asked them what happened to Kaguya after one of their concerts, and you know what Yachiyo said?” Takina shakes her head. “They said, ‘she’s doing better than she ever could have imagined. She might just be closer than you think~’ Hey, you don’t think she moved over to songwriting, do you, Takina?”
“…I hope so.”
Takina found that upon hearing that story, she harboured quite a bit of respect for this ‘Iro-P’. From the graduation announcement to all the music, every word that Chisato had used to describe her oozed of someone working above an open flame, desperately running herself to the bone for the sake of fulfilling all of her partner’s dreams before their time together was up.
And from the looks of things, they’d managed it in the end.
Had they?
In any event Takina wouldn’t be satisfied with that.
Chisato Nishikigi, more than anyone else she knows, deserves to live.
Of that, Takina is certain. A world that allows a person like her to slip through its grasp prematurely is one that ought to burn.
…She’s the only reason Takina hasn’t burnt it to a crisp yet.
“Missus Nishikigi and Inoue?” There’s a small, shaky voice from down the hall before a slightly uncoordinated-looking woman in a lab coat reveals herself. “Right this way. Senpai—er, the director will be with you shortly.”
“You’ve got it!” Chisato jumps to her feet and Takina lets her drag her along. “C’mon, Takina! We shouldn’t keep the lady waiting!”
No, they shouldn’t. So with that, when Chisato pulls Takina to her feet, she doesn’t waste any time stumbling over herself, lost in thought over the effect that Chisato has had on her. She doesn’t waste any headspace ruminating on the way Chisato’s hair flares out as she turns, and she especially doesn’t waste a single calorie admiring the way that even the harsh, fluorescent lights of the lab reflect off of Chisato’s perfect red eyes as her reminder for Chisato not to push herself unnecessarily falls on deaf ears.
###
For Iroha Sakayori, receiving requests for specific projects was no rare occurrence.
Whether it was a child who had lost function in their eyes after a sporting accident, or a rock musician who’d gone deaf, Iroha was usually happy to lend a hand. After all, those were projects that she would have to work on anyways, so why not accept the extra money? The only side-effect would be a mildly reshuffled schedule; she wasn’t actually spending any extra time on this.
But she had stipulations.
The first was that she would work on her own schedule. That had been more of Yachiyo’s request to prevent her from feeling the need to overwork herself for the sake of meeting deadlines, but in the past year, she’d taken it on as her own. Yes, with some encouragement and assistance from Yachiyo, but still! She’d made progress in that regard!
The second was smaller—that the person requesting aid would need to include their ID with the request. That was mostly just to keep her own butt covered and follow regulations.
The third was… bigger. More significant. And it had led to a decent amount of shouting matches, insults being hurled her way, and even one physical confrontation. She didn’t blame them, of course, and as furious as Yachiyo got that one time, neither did she. Having the life of a loved one in jeopardy and being turned away is something that no one wants to experience.
But Iroha’s Avatar technology had no use for artificial internal organs. A heart was useless to a body being built for a being that was essentially pure data. Just replace the complex network of internal organs and endocrine system with wiring and batteries, and just like that, she’d cut her work down by at least a few years. Taking the time to focus on developing, say, an artificial lung would only delay her reunion.
And she didn’t want to make Yachiyo wait. Not for even a single second longer than she had to.
But then, she’d gotten a certain e-mail from a little, out-of-the-way cafe.
A man requesting an artificial heart for his almost adult daughter. His daughter, due to die in two months if there was no intervention.
And she’d been poised to give him the same response she’d given everyone else who’d requested something like that—to reach out to a hospital and ask to be put on a waitlist for an organ transplant like anyone else. Because at the end of the day, Iroha Sakayori is simply a selfish woman who’s dedicated the last nine years of her life to living out the rest of it with the person (people?) who made it worth living in the first place.
But then, he’d told her a story.
A story about a girl who’d been trapped. Who’d spent her whole life stuck on the straight and narrow before being introduced to his unruly mess of a daughter. A girl who, over the course of a year, had turned from a statue to a human, with all the love, pain, and life that such a term implied.
All before being told it would be ripped away from her the moment she’d finally settled into place.
Yachiyo had insisted on looking into it and even if Iroha weren’t a willing slave to her long-lived love’s whims, upon her love’s discovery, Iroha knew that she couldn’t ignore this case.
“They’re Lycoris?”
“Yep!” Yachiyo laughs, putting a dainty hand to her face as a muted, crystalline noise blesses Iroha’s ears. “I’m surprised that you’re accepting this so readily! Something as bizarre as an underground syndicate dedicated to stopping crime before it happens is the stuff out of movies, isn’t it?”
“I think that after meeting you, I’ve learned to just roll with it. Plus, I’m a scientist, aren’t I? ‘You can never prove a negative’ or something like that, right? Besides,” Iroha presses her cheek into Yachiyo’s shoulder, and her heart swells at the warmth that emanates from beneath the cheap, black fabric. With temperature done, the coast of Ithaca is finally in sight.
“Gosh, what have I done to deserve someone like you?”
“You know the answer to that.”
And Yachiyo gives a low chuckle, threading her fingers through Iroha’s hair, stroking twitchy fox ears, because she does know. Iroha never lets her forget. Not anymore.
“Still, what to do~?” she asks, stopping her pets, which draws a disappointed whine from Iroha, drawing a chuckle from her, but Iroha rises all the same, bliss washing off of her face as she refocuses on the business at hand. “We can’t just turn her into Iron Man, can we?”
“Nope. Hooking up an avatar to a living being requires their body to be able to sustain itself. You don’t have a biological host, so that rule doesn’t apply to you, but Chisato does.”
Iroha’s been asked to test her technology on people on their deathbeds and for the occasional case, it’ll work, giving the near-deceased one last chance to say their goodbyes, but usually, the brain will have deteriorated past the point of Iroha’s technology having any further use.
Which means that the only solution left is an artificial heart.
And even with such an eerily familiar story, Iroha might have still turned the request down for the simple fact that making an artificial heart from scratch would take years at best, maybe even decades, and discounting her own issues with that, she wasn’t going to delay Kaguya’s return for that long for anything, even if it was for the sake of rewriting someone else’s tragedy.
“But we do have a plan of attack here.”
Because in this instance, Iroha wouldn’t be building an artificial heart from scratch.
Because Chisato already had one.
And all at once, the perfect storm of circumstances had collected for Iroha to become these young, probably traumatized beyond belief girls’ saviour.
The extra funding certainly didn’t hurt either.
“Were you ever scared, Yachiyo?” Iroha asks, a seed of anxiety worming its way into her mind. “That you might mess something up? Like, I dunno, the Kassen match? Or the performance?”
Without having realized it at first, Iroha’s leaning into her shoulder again and Yachiyo, steadfast as ever, raises a hand to draw slow circles into Iroha’s back, tension draining out of Iroha as her love works.
God, she loves her so, so much.
“I wasn’t,” Yachiyo says, her voice filled with a serenity that loosens Iroha’s posture further, melting into Yachiyo’s side even more as she croons into her ear. “At first, I was simply overjoyed to be able to see you again. And after seeing the two of you together, I knew that there was no one I trusted more to steward my past, present, and future.”
And at those words, Iroha has to clamp her mouth tight because if she doesn’t, she’s probably going to do or say something that she really doesn’t want to happen until she’s finished with her work. But dammit, her heart is nearly bursting at this point, so she digs her face into the crook of Yachiyo’s neck, silently begging her both to understand the weight that those words hold in Iroha’s heart and to not press her any further on it.
From the way Yachiyo gently lays a hand over the back of Iroha’s head, she thinks she understands.
“This time,” Yachiyo coos, “It’s your turn to guide a pair of fated lovers. The waves of destiny have certainly jostled them about quite a bit, but as of yet, they’ve weathered the storm quite well.” Yachiyo stroke Iroha’s hair back, a hand dragging from the top of her head down, to the back of her neck, and Iroha instinctively looks up, green eyes meeting ocean blue as Yachiyo asks, “Do you trust these two to write their happy ending?”
And at that, Iroha thinks. She thinks of the way that, even through the cameras, Takina’s eyes had practically been shining in adoration as Chisato dragged her through the halls, the concern flooding her voice when she’d asked Chisato not to push herself too hard, and she smiles.
“Yeah. I think they just might.”
“Then there’s only one thing to do, isn’t there?”
Iroha sighs, standing and tapping through settings menus to reach the logout button. “It’ll set back the avatar, you know. By roughly a month and a half if we’re lucky, probably two, if we’re being more realistic.”
“Building a functioning heart in two months? You truly are a genius.”
Iroha can’t stop a girlish giggle from escaping her, nor can she suppress the pink that dusts her cheeks at Yachiyo’s praise. Yes, fine, she does still have a bit of a soft spot for praise, especially from her Yachiyo. They share one last gaze before at the same time, they each raise a hand, Iroha’s right almost instinctively finding Kaguya’s left as they touch, twine, and touch again before Yachiyo caresses Iroha, a step that she’d added and neither of them had found the heart to omit afterwards.
Iroha pulls her into a hug. And they’ve probably kept their clients waiting, but it’s fine. For Yachiyo, Iroha is willing to sideline her work, even if it’s just for a little.
“And remember, Iroha,” she says, a hand trailing across her spine as she does. “You don’t have to do everything on your own. Yaccho’s here to help whenever you need~!”
Gazing at her love’s iridescent smile one last time, Iroha gives one of her own before logging out.
###
“Apologies for the wait,” Iroha says, creaking the door to the office open, even if she would make the same decision a million times over. “You must be Miss Nishikigi?”
“Yep, that’s me! But just call me Chisato, ‘kay?” The white-haired girl raises an enthusiastic hand and Iroha has to blink away the image of Kaguya that imprints itself onto her. She even has the same red eyes…
“Of course. And you’re Takina Inoue?” The girl with purple eyes nods without a word, hand gripping Chisato’s just a little tighter upon seeing Iroha. How strange. Is that… fear behind her eyes?
“You know, I’m a pretty big fan of yours,” Chisato says, head bobbing left and right as she talks. “I never got to see her live, but I watched all of your stuff with Kaguya and it was, like, woah! Y’know? Super amazing! Ooh, and that lady in the tablet, is that—”
“Yachiyo Runami at your service~”
“Woah, that’s so cool!”
Chisato knows about her streaming career? She supposes it isn’t that rare of an occurrence—Kaguya had quite the reach upon her departure. But the connection between her and Iro-P was generally a tier of information down. You wouldn’t learn it unless you were looking for it.
Granted, with Yachiyo having insisted on sitting in on this appointment, she supposes it wouldn’t have been that hard to connect the dots.
“Well, I’m flattered that you’ve—”
“Are you able to manufacture and install an artificial heart within the next fifty days?”
Iroha blinks. As does Yachiyo. Chisato only sighs, looking at Takina with a hint of sadness and… exasperation behind her eyes.
“Kaguya. Do you have to leave?”
…It’s familiar.
“I can fulfill any price that you require,” Takina says, both her and Chisato’s knuckles going white from how hard she’s clenching her fists. “She needs a heart. I would give my life for hers if I could. Please.”
“Hey, Takina—”
“There’s no way that you’re the same Kaguya as the fairy tales.”
Grief stabs at Iroha’s heart and every practiced response dies on her tongue.
“Now, now. That won’t do at all.”
Ah. Right.
Yachiyo.
“The two of you have two months, do you not?” Takina opens her mouth as if to protest and Chisato does the same, likely to temper her partner, but Yachiyo continues before either can speak. “Rather than thinking of shortening the length of time that you have together, you ought to aim to lengthen it, no? So please, Takina, please refrain from sacrificing your own life for her sake; both of you would like more time with the other, not less. Is that correct?”
After a moment’s pause, they both nod. Yachiyo’s always been better with her words and with people. Even before.
“What are you suggesting then,” Takina almost spits out. “That we take our leave and live out the next two months in peace? That this meeting was a waste of time?”
“Not at all,” and this time, Iroha’s the one to interject. “Now, the technology that I’ve pioneered is generally meant to be used on healthy people compatible with smart contacts and glasses. As such, it isn’t really suited to life support.”
Iroha knows that she’s said things out of order when Takina’s grip slackens and the life drains out of her, her face emptying of emotion before Iroha’s eyes. She quickly clarifies, “However, I have experience in the invention of organ replacements from skin, to eyes, to inner ears. With the proper scaffold to build off of, making an artificial heart within a reasonable time frame should be possible.”
“What time frame?”
Iroha wonders, what would she have done if there were a way to keep Kaguya on earth? Seeing Takina practically jumping at every hint of hope that Iroha presents her, seeing the fire burning away behind the magenta in her eyes, it gives her some idea. She supposes she’s already doing that, in a way.
“Anywhere from one and a half to two months. We would first have to schedule you in for an open-heart surgery to get all the requisite scans, and—”
Iroha missed it when it happened, but she now notices that sometime in the last two seconds, Takina had gone completely pale.
“I’m sorry,” an apologetic Chisato says, squeezing Takina into a hug from the side and rubbing her arm up and down Takina’s upper arm in a surprisingly gentle gesture. “Could we discuss this part alone?”
“…Certainly.”
And the concern radiating from Chisato’s gaze when she looks at Takina, frozen in place as she rises, Iroha knows that she’s seen that look before.
“If you wish you’d never heard any of this, it’s okay. Fushi can help.”
She doesn’t like it. Not one bit.
But at the end of the day, Chisato is the patient, so Iroha obliges. Yachiyo assures her that she’ll keep Takina company as she and Chisato enter a new room.
“So. The surgery?”
“Yes,” Iroha says, refocusing her attention. “You have a mechanical heart already, correct? Something like this would normally be impossible, but I have access to some resources,” those ‘resources’ being Yachiyo, “that would be able to take a scan of your heart’s components, copying schematics and code over to a hard drive.”
“Eh? My heart’s pretty secure, though. You sure you can break in?”
“Positive.” How do you think Yachiyo managed to learn about the existence of Lycoris? Alan technology is child’s play for her.
“Then, if I could be a little selfish,” Chisato says, eyeing the exit door. “Could we do it without surgery…?”
Hm.
…Mika did mention their previous ‘appointment’ going awry. Iroha should have expected something like this.
“It’ll be a bit less precise,” Iroha says, digging around some shelves and drawers for a scanner. “But it should be possible.”
After all, Fushi had managed to interact with her through her smart contacts, right? So if Chisato wore a pair, then maybe Yachiyo could…
“Yeah. Yeah, I think I’ve got an idea. You’ve got a pair of smart contacts on you, right?”
“Yeppers; got ‘em right here!”
“Then we can start now. Let’s take you back, then—I have a feeling that your partner will want to keep an eye on things.”
“Yeah,” Chisato says, ruby eyes positively shining with emotion as she gets to her feet. “I don’t think anything could keep Takina out of that operating room!”
“If Iroha says no, the answer’s no!”
And seeing Chisato’s eyes light up at the word ‘partner’ in the same way that the eyes of everyone in her position who’s been called a ‘friend’ one too many times, Iroha can’t help but smile.
###
“Well, someone’s nervous, hm? Isn’t it one of your days off, Iroha?”
“Of course I’m nervous! They still haven’t replied yet!”
It’s been about eighteen hours since Takina confirmed the delivery of the world’s first documented artificial heart.
It should last about a decade. Yachiyo’s scans weren’t perfect, as predicted, but they were still more than enough for Iroha to quickly turn around something that would likely last about ten years. Maybe more if Chisato were to conserve her energy, but something told Iroha that they’d have an easier time getting Mami to give up sweets, or getting Mikado to quit showing off and ‘aura farming’ as he said (yes, he said it ironically; no, Iroha didn’t care).
Still, that was only if it actually worked. And if the surgery succeeded. And with eighteen hours since it was supposed to have been completed, the possibility of complications was rising by the second.
“You still ended up pushing yourself in the end, huh Iroha?”
“Hey, we both knew what I was getting into, building an artificial heart. Seriously, I still can’t wrap my head around some of the tech they used in that heart.”
“That’s Alan tech for you. But regardless, you’ll be getting the proper amount of sleep today, yes?”
Iroha nods. No matter how much she might want to stay up to see the text as soon as it arrives, she can’t refuse her, especially for a request as reasonable as this.
“You know I love how hard you work, Iroha,” her heart skips a beat at the word, ‘love’, but she manages to keep listening. “But you have to take care of yourself.”
“I know.”
At that moment, there’s a knock at the door.
Iroha springs to her feet. She doesn’t remember giving her home address to anyone new and to her knowledge, Roka, Mami, and OnyXXX are all busy today, but from what Yachiyo’s told her, she has an inkling of who it might be. The door opens, and…
It’s Takina.
There are dark circles under her eyes, her hair is a mess, and Iroha is immensely thankful for Yachiyo’s sake that Tsukuyomi’s technology is incapable of transmitting scent.
“Have you,” she huffs out, slamming the door shut behind her, a wild look in her eyes that borders on threatening violence as she continues, “Have you seen Chisato?”
…What?