27 Sheltering in Place: Pre-Flight, Packed My Bags

But he that shall endure unto the end, receiveth the participation prize.

Neon Matthew 24:13 (Unified Standard Edition)

- - -

Why hadn't Hitomi's power helped her when Sakura had tried to kill her?

Mr. Yamada had been keen to try to divine the circumstances of the fight as well, and Hitomi, suddenly wary not so much of her government as the individual strangers all around her, decided to do something she didn't know how to do very well:

She lied.

Hitomi framed her defensive actions in a way that lined up with the damage she had managed to inflict on Sakura's face, particularly her broken nose, but completely left out that she had managed to fight back purely on an adrenaline rush.

Now she was alone.

The room that she had been staying in with Sakura had been cleared of the latter girl's belongings, and now Hitomi had, basically, a small private suite (without a bed, of course, just a few couches) all to herself.

"We're going to evacuate the embassy," Mr. Yamada had told her, asking her to wait there while arrangements were made. Numerous families and individuals who had sought the protection of the embassy would be able to board a series of buses and head towards Dulles, where Washington D.C.'s international airport was.

The region actually had two major airports: Reagan, which was just over the Potomac river in Virginia, and Dulles International, which was about forty minutes further west of the city.

She had asked Mr. Yamada if they needed help disposing of any electronic data, but he had assured her that the JSDF knew how to "thoroughly destroy" sensitive equipment.

R.I.P., oh beautifully cabled server room.

The communications blackout was still in effect, but Mr. Yamada assured her she'd get her phone back as soon as she boarded a bus. He also said that they'd be making a rendezvous outside the city to pick up additional passengers - fellow Japanese citizens who had accepted their country's offer to bring them home.

It was a shaping up to be a global evacuation of the Japanese citizenry (non ex-patriots, of course) back to the homeland.

Hitomi didn't have her cell phone. No internet.

No Sakura.

Why hadn't her power protected her from Sakura's attack?

Could it be that Sakura hadn't intended to kill her?

Did her power only work if her life were truly threatened?

What if it only worked if she had a weapon or tool?

She hadn't tested that, specifically.

But wait, it had activated when she dove to save the baby.

Why did it help her save the baby?

Her life wasn't in danger, right?

Hitomi concentrated, thinking back to that terrible moment in the early evening when the baby's screaming body was being smashed downwards towards the unforgiving asphalt. Hitomi had been too far away to do anything, just a step or two out of reach.

But the next moment she was on the ground, watching a mirage of herself flicker away.

The mirage had shut its eyes. The not-her had frozen up, unable to look, but no, it DID open her eyes.

Right at the last second, before it flickered away, the not-her had opened her eyes and put her hands over her face in horror and revulsion.

Hitomi remembered seeing blood and... gore, the remains of the small baby, before they flickered out - that reality simply didn't exist.

Could it be that her power also took a long-view approach to keeping her alive? What would have happened to Hitomi's mental state if she had actually witnessed an infant's body coming apart from the sheer physical forces at play, splashing the area around her with its remains?

Hitomi would have wanted to curl up and die.

It could have broken her, she rationally assessed.

The power had even made her carry her pipe when an immediate threat wasn't obvious, but it had been necessary for her fight with the fanatics in Sheridan Circle.

But it seemed to choose the minimal action needed to survive. It could have made her take the gun from Josh, but it had left it with him. Then again, her pipe couldn't run out of ammunition like a gun could.

These were weighty thoughts, and she mulled over them, doodling on her touchscreen.

Hitomi blinked.

She had drawn, without thinking about it, a little picture of herself and Sakura.

What had they done to her, in North Korea, to brainwash and blackmail her so successfully that her friend would have a mental breakdown trying to kill her.

Also: why did they want her dead?

"Asset Denial," she said to herself.

Had her fight in Sheridan Circle made her look like some sort of highly trained ninja assassin to the various world powers? Who wanted her dead next? China? Russia? Canada?

Nah, the Canadians were too polite to assassinate her for being a magical girl.

Magical girl.

Was that what she was? Like the cartoons?

No way.

One: she didn't have a catchphrase, and she refused to make one up.

Two: she didn't have a transformation sequence.

Three: no magical gem, pendant, brooch, or other macguffin that gave her powers.

So, no, she was not a magical girl.

She just got her body taken over by some terrible, impersonal power that seemed to make sure she lived through dangerous situations.

But either her power didn't work all the time, or... Sakura wasn't going to kill her.

So did her power have a time component to it?

Could it extrapolate the future and only act if she were going to truly die.

She reached up and felt her neck gingerly, now wrapped in gauze the same way her left arm was. It hurt to the touch, bruised and swollen, but she didn't have any trouble talking: Sakura hadn't tried to crush her windpipe with her thumbs like she had seen in the movies.

Sakura... wasn't going to kill her. She had hesitated - relented.

And now her new friend: confused, lonely, stoic, brave, humble, incorrigible Sakura - whose entire family were in North Korean hands - had been shuttled off to some black-ops mystery dungeon who-knows-where and Hitomi would never seen her again.

But what else could be done? Sakura HAD attacked Hitomi.

Someone knocked on the door.

Hitomi scrambled up from her seat and said, "Hello? Come on in."

The door opened and a JSDF soldier walked in carrying two boxes and a large black garbage bag: "Ms. Hisakawa?"

"Um, yes?"

"A man named Mr. Smith just dropped these off at the front entrance a while ago, and they had your name on them," he said, pointing to a note pinned on the boxes as her face lit up, "We assume they're your personal belongings? They've already been searched and cleared."

"Yes! Oh, thank you! Wow, clothes! And my books, and all my makeup! Thank you!"

The soldier seemed amused, setting down the boxes, and said, "Well, for what its worth, I'd advise you to condense what you really want to take back to Japan down to what can fit in a single suitcase. We'll be providing a canvas duffel bag for you, but you'll have to tote it yourself."

"Still, thank you so much!"

"Of course," he said, taking his leave.

Hitomi rushed to the boxes and was excited to find her toiletries (including a razor!), makeup, and various feminine products. Thank god. Her period hadn't started yet but it was day 24 and who knew with all the stress what her body might do to her at any moment.

The bag had an entire assortment of her clothes: it looked like her entire closet had been dumped inside the bag, but "dumped" wasn't a fair word. Everything was mostly folded, and she found her underwear and bras on the bottom, wrapped carefully in her black formal dress.

She picked out an outfit consisting of new, light-blue panties (non-grandma variety, woohoo!), a plain flesh-colored bra, a black and white plaid skirt, a lightly woven long-sleeve blouse (it was a dark navy), and some nice tall black socks.

Then she grabbed her razor and some soap, plus a bottle of her favorite 2-in-1 shampoo/conditioner.

Carefully she piled everything together, and, holding it in her arms, carefully pried the door open without dropping anything. She made her way towards the medical room; hopefully Dr. Nagisa or her nurse would be on duty and would take pity on her and let her have a shower.

"I don't see why not," Dr. Nagisa had said, "But I'm on duty and I have paperwork to finish before we begin closing this place down. I'll just turn around, if that's alright with you."

It was OK with Hitomi: she REALLY wanted that shower.

And, just as it had been last time, it was heavenly. This time, however, she had finally gotten a chance to shave everything she wanted to shave. Armpits, legs, lip, right between her eyebrows - up and down she tidied up her body, excited that she might be on a plane home as soon as tomorrow.

When she came out of the shower she talked to Dr. Nagisa as she toweled off and dressed.

"Has anything happened in the news? Besides uh, the PAU, I mean?"

Dr. Nagisa pondered that, then replied, "I don't even know where to start. Russia is invading Ukraine, and the EU just announced a formal alliance with Israel called the Mediterranean Treaty. Canada just closed its borders, and the U.S. has been completely silent for days ever since the last two presidents died. Politically, I mean, the talk shows and news networks are just on fire coming up with every conspiracy theory I've ever heard."

"W-wow," Hitomi managed to say as she pulled on her socks.

"Are you decent yet?"

Hitomi pulled her blouse over her head, "Yeah."

Dr. Nagisa turned around in her chair, facing her, "Well, you clean up nicely don't you? Except for those bruises, here," she said, and then tossed Hitomi a roll of gauze, "Probably OK without the ointment, right?"

Hitomi nodded, a little unsure, but willing to believe the doctor. Her arm was still bruised but the black and purple had already faded towards a yellowish color and her arm wasn't constantly sore anymore.

"So, as I was saying: we're probably all leaving at the best possible time. The U.S. is going to have to make a public response soon, and there are rumors they're hiding something, something big."

"Really? Like what?"

"Whatever happened at the U.N. has them running around like chickens with their heads cut off. There are more tanks in New York City right now than here in D.C." the doctor observed.

"That's hard to believe. This is the capital. You'd think they'd be fortifying the every bridge and road into this place," Hitomi said.

Dr. Nagisa shrugged, "Like I said: it's not adding up."

"Are you coming with us when we evacuate the civilians?"

"Nurse Murata is going with your group, I'll be staying back with the staff. Last to go," the doctor mused, crossing her legs.

"Oh, well, uh, that's good at least, that we'll have Nurse Murata with uh in case something happens to one of the passengers," Hitomi said, feeling like she'd run the conversation dry at this point and overstayed her welcome, "I should, probably get going?"

"Sure, but hey, I have something for you, a parting gift, you might call it."

Hitomi beamed, wondering what the doctor could mean.

Dr. Nagisa opened a long drawer behind her and rustled around for a second before lifting out, to Hitomi's utter shock, the long steel pipe with the hooked end she had wielded on the way to the embassy.

"Found this bad boy thrown out in the recycling heap. You know, Mr. Yamada told the senior staff about the video he saw of you with this thing. I think it'd be a shame if you didn't have a... souvenir of your escapades to take with him back home. Mount it on a shelf or something, eh?"

Was the doctor teasing her? Hitomi felt a twinge of... something. She felt triggered, like it was a reminder of Sakura's blase but irreverent attitude. Hitomi reached out her hands and took the pipe from her.

"You can put it in your bag with all your clothes, it's not like it's a gun, so there's no reason you couldn't check it into baggage claim at the airport."

Hitomi stared at Mr. Pipe, thinking. Did she really want a constant reminder of everything that had happened to her.

Unconsciously her gaze flitted to the side, towards the shower, and she remembered days ago promising herself something: she promised to get stronger.

Mr. Pipe was part of her journey.

She couldn't pretend it hadn't.

"Yes, I think I will. Thank you, doctor," Hitomi said, gripping the length of steel, standing to go.

"You're quite welcome Hitomi, and, if I may offer some advice?"

Hitomi nodded.

Dr. Nagisa tossed Hitomi a roll of sticky looking medical tape.

"Try wrapping some tape around the bottom, it'll give you a better grip."

Hitomi looked down at the painted grey steel.

"Just in case there's a next time," the doctor explained.

Hitomi smiled.