Yamato Ishida (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
angry_friendship_wolf) wrote2016-12-11 09:40 pm
angry_friendship_wolf) wrote2016-12-11 09:40 pm
[OOM] Maki Himekawa.
Her name is Maki Himekawa, Senior Intelligence Officer at the Incorporated Administrative Agency, in charge of ‘managing’ the Chosen Children.
‘Managing.’ Even on a good day, Maki has little patience for euphemisms: Her job is to monitor the Chosen and, if necessary, to render assistance to them -- and oh, how the old men who run the Agency had wrinkled their nose at that last part, as if it truly pained them to admit they had to rely on eight youths, only one of whom was even old enough to vote.
When the Kuwagamon had appeared, and when the call had to be made that Maki and the agents under her command should act like glorified chauffeurs, she could hear the strain in their voices over the phone.
In truth, it had never been an issue before. The Agency had been established in 1999, in the months after Apocalymon, in the panic that ensued when every person in the world had found themselves staring at the sky, watching as eight children from Odaiba had fought, struggled, and ultimately prevailed.
A dozen agencies had been created just like it, in a dozen countries. All of them had withered within two years, when it became clear that they had no information, no weapons, no understanding of the situation. To make matters worse, no agency could retain any information on the Chosen -- as soon as it was on any kind of network, it would be deleted.
Only the Incorporated Administrative Agency had remained.
That, Maki knew, was down to two people.
One of their earliest recruits, Professor Mochizuki, who had brought with him a curious cat-like Digimon, the apparent partner of his daughter Meiko. They had studied the thing, dubbed Meicoomon by the child, gently, kindly, according to the rigid ethical practices that the Professor insisted upon.
Eventually, they had had to cease study. Meicoomon had a partner, after all, and it seemed as if it was only truly itself in Meiko Mochizuki’s presence.
The second person was Gennai. He was an agent of the Digital World’s host computer, an old ally of the Chosen that was somewhere between mentor and servant, and the force that worked ceaselessly to delete any data on any of the eight Chosen. Maki was never sure what had made him approach the Agency, but he had, and he’d brought information with him.
Slowly, the Agency had grown. Slowly, it had blossomed into an organisation that could truly help. So when the Infected Kuwagamon appeared, Maki had sent agents out to each of the Chosen, to take them to their Digimon, to take them to battle, and had herself gone to the airport to pick up Mimi Tachikawa.
None of them had been exactly like their files had led her to believe. She liked them, Qinglongmon help her. There was a warmth to all of them, a gentleness that belied the hints of iron and sharp edges she caught from them all every so often.
The Agency considered the battle against Kuwagamon a success and so, when Alphamon appeared, they had called on Maki again.
She’d been ready when they called, and very carefully, she’d reached over and unplugged her office phone.
She settled into her office chair and watched the battle unfold, because Alphamon was special. Alphamon was precious. She couldn’t miss a moment of that battle between Alphamon and Omegamon, and besides -- …
… Besides, it would do the world some good to see what could happen when two Royal Knights clash, even for a moment. There was nothing wrong with a little bit of perspective.
It had been easy to explain away. A large Digimon like Alphamon would naturally cause communications issues, after all. Her superiors had believed her immediately when she said that she’d answered the phone to static and hadn’t been able to call them back.
Now, weeks later, Maki sits in her office, as an e-mail with no sender listed arrives in her inbox. She opens it to reveal the angular, blocky characters DigiCode, a language not even most Digimon understand. She does.
These two sides of the universe are as two faces of a coin,
And if you desire true power, then you must know the darkness and go beyond it.
She smiles slowly.
On her desk, her phone rings. She picks it up.
“Maki? It’s me, Dai -- …”
“Nishijima,” Maki says.
Daigo Nishijima is a -- passable agent. He has managed to juggle both his work as an agent with his work as a calligraphy teacher at Tsukishima High School deftly enough that Maki has wondered more than once if he’d be happier if he was teacher. He has a genuine affection for the Chosen.
Sometimes, she thinks the only reason he hasn’t quit is out of some misplaced sense of loyalty, the product of a shared history
She tries not to think about it. Or him. Or all the lies she tells him.
She gets by.
“-- It looks like all the kids are going to be off the grid for a few hours. Well, except Kido, obviously,” Daigo says, sounding almost wounded by how formal she’s being.
“Oh?”
She can swear Daigo is grinning like a fool when she hears what he says next. “Feel like a trip to some hot springs?”
‘Managing.’ Even on a good day, Maki has little patience for euphemisms: Her job is to monitor the Chosen and, if necessary, to render assistance to them -- and oh, how the old men who run the Agency had wrinkled their nose at that last part, as if it truly pained them to admit they had to rely on eight youths, only one of whom was even old enough to vote.
When the Kuwagamon had appeared, and when the call had to be made that Maki and the agents under her command should act like glorified chauffeurs, she could hear the strain in their voices over the phone.
In truth, it had never been an issue before. The Agency had been established in 1999, in the months after Apocalymon, in the panic that ensued when every person in the world had found themselves staring at the sky, watching as eight children from Odaiba had fought, struggled, and ultimately prevailed.
A dozen agencies had been created just like it, in a dozen countries. All of them had withered within two years, when it became clear that they had no information, no weapons, no understanding of the situation. To make matters worse, no agency could retain any information on the Chosen -- as soon as it was on any kind of network, it would be deleted.
Only the Incorporated Administrative Agency had remained.
That, Maki knew, was down to two people.
One of their earliest recruits, Professor Mochizuki, who had brought with him a curious cat-like Digimon, the apparent partner of his daughter Meiko. They had studied the thing, dubbed Meicoomon by the child, gently, kindly, according to the rigid ethical practices that the Professor insisted upon.
Eventually, they had had to cease study. Meicoomon had a partner, after all, and it seemed as if it was only truly itself in Meiko Mochizuki’s presence.
The second person was Gennai. He was an agent of the Digital World’s host computer, an old ally of the Chosen that was somewhere between mentor and servant, and the force that worked ceaselessly to delete any data on any of the eight Chosen. Maki was never sure what had made him approach the Agency, but he had, and he’d brought information with him.
Slowly, the Agency had grown. Slowly, it had blossomed into an organisation that could truly help. So when the Infected Kuwagamon appeared, Maki had sent agents out to each of the Chosen, to take them to their Digimon, to take them to battle, and had herself gone to the airport to pick up Mimi Tachikawa.
None of them had been exactly like their files had led her to believe. She liked them, Qinglongmon help her. There was a warmth to all of them, a gentleness that belied the hints of iron and sharp edges she caught from them all every so often.
The Agency considered the battle against Kuwagamon a success and so, when Alphamon appeared, they had called on Maki again.
She’d been ready when they called, and very carefully, she’d reached over and unplugged her office phone.
She settled into her office chair and watched the battle unfold, because Alphamon was special. Alphamon was precious. She couldn’t miss a moment of that battle between Alphamon and Omegamon, and besides -- …
… Besides, it would do the world some good to see what could happen when two Royal Knights clash, even for a moment. There was nothing wrong with a little bit of perspective.
It had been easy to explain away. A large Digimon like Alphamon would naturally cause communications issues, after all. Her superiors had believed her immediately when she said that she’d answered the phone to static and hadn’t been able to call them back.
Now, weeks later, Maki sits in her office, as an e-mail with no sender listed arrives in her inbox. She opens it to reveal the angular, blocky characters DigiCode, a language not even most Digimon understand. She does.
And if you desire true power, then you must know the darkness and go beyond it.
She smiles slowly.
On her desk, her phone rings. She picks it up.
“Maki? It’s me, Dai -- …”
“Nishijima,” Maki says.
Daigo Nishijima is a -- passable agent. He has managed to juggle both his work as an agent with his work as a calligraphy teacher at Tsukishima High School deftly enough that Maki has wondered more than once if he’d be happier if he was teacher. He has a genuine affection for the Chosen.
Sometimes, she thinks the only reason he hasn’t quit is out of some misplaced sense of loyalty, the product of a shared history
She tries not to think about it. Or him. Or all the lies she tells him.
She gets by.
“-- It looks like all the kids are going to be off the grid for a few hours. Well, except Kido, obviously,” Daigo says, sounding almost wounded by how formal she’s being.
“Oh?”
She can swear Daigo is grinning like a fool when she hears what he says next. “Feel like a trip to some hot springs?”