Nana
"Your sister will be in urgent care for the time being."
"I want to see her." Nana's voice cracked. "You said I could see her!"
"You are seeing her. You've been seeing her for a full day." His jaw tightened. "But she's not waking up yet, and you haven't eaten since yesterday. Are you hungry?"
Her stomach growled. Traitor.
"No."
Segawa sighed. He turned to a woman standing near the infirmary entrance. "Ogawa. Take her to the cafeteria. Put it on my tab."
The woman had kind eyes. Tired, but kind. She looked at Nana the way teachers looked at transfer students, careful and assessing, trying to figure out what kind of broken she was.
"Come on, sweetie. Let's get you fed."
Nana didn't move.
"Your sister isn't going anywhere," Ogawa said. "And you can't help her if you pass out."
That was the logic that got her walking.
The Bureau was nothing like Nana expected.
She'd imagined something like the police stations in dramas. Desks and computers and people in uniforms drinking coffee. Normal. Boring. Safe.
This wasn't that.
The hallways were too wide. The ceilings too high. Every door had symbols etched into the frame, faint lines that caught the light wrong. She passed a window that looked into a training room where a man was throwing fireballs at a target dummy. The dummy was screaming.
She walked faster.
People stared as she passed. Then she caught a woman whispering to her colleague.
"Is that her kid?"
"No, that's the Tamei girl's sister."
"The one who blew up the arena?"
"No, that was Mori-san."
Her kid. Nana's hand went to her head. White hair. They thought she was Shizuka's.
It had been white since birth. Kids at school called it things. She'd stopped caring.
The Bureau cafeteria was empty. Fluorescent lights hummed over rows of plastic tables. A buffet line sat half-stocked, steam rising from metal trays.
Not quite empty. The boy from before sat at the far table, chopsticks working through a plate of shrimp. He didn't look at them. Just stared out the window at the evening traffic, headlights crawling past like slow fireflies.
Nana's stomach clenched. "He's the guy who took Mio away. Is he bad?"
Ogawa followed her gaze. Something softened in her expression.
"Kagami-san?" Her tone softened. "He's the best of us."
She said it the way Nana imagined she'd talk about a brother.
More symbols on the walls. A seal behind the counter with six interlocking circles. Everything hummed faintly, like the building itself was alive and breathing.
Like a machine, Nana thought. A big chewing machine.
Ogawa loaded a tray for her. Curry rice. Tamagoyaki. An onigiri shaped like a cat.
"Eat, eat. You're too skinny."
Something in Nana's chest twisted. Mom used to say that. Same words, same tone. She shoved the feeling down and shoved karaage into her mouth instead.
Ogawa sat across from her as Nana munched, like a person would when approaching a stray cat.
"I'm Ogawa." She smiled. "You can call me OG."
Nana swallowed. "OG."
Silence. Nana worked through the curry. It was good. Bureau food, but good.
"Are you a killer too?"
OG's chopsticks paused. "Depends, girl. What's it to you?"
Nana shrugged. Poked at her tamagoyaki.
"My sister is."
Her lips turned into a proud smile. Small. Fierce.
OG studied her for a long moment.
"I wouldn't brag about that. The Bureau chews through people like her. Spits out the bones."
Nana was already chowing down on more curry. Chewing. Swallowing. Chewing.
"Not onee-san."
The steam stopped rising from Nana's curry.
She noticed it first in her fingers—the cold creeping into her joints, stiffening her grip on the chopsticks. Then her breath came out white.
A woman stood at the edge of the cafeteria. White hair. Pale skin. Eyes like chips of ice.
"Ogawa-san." Shizuka's voice was soft. Almost musical. "Would you mind handling the rest of the damage assessment on sublevel three? I'm so tired."
OG didn't move. Her hand found Nana's shoulder.
"Please." The temperature dropped another degree.
OG's hand squeezed once, then let go.
"Of course, Shizuka-san."
At the door, she paused. "Nana. I'll be back in twenty minutes."
Then she was gone.
Shizuka sat across from her. Folded her hands on the table. Smiled.
"You're Mio's sister."
It wasn't a question.
"Yeah."
Shizuka's hand reached across the table. Fingers found a strand of Nana's hair, lifting it, letting it catch the light.
"Such beautiful hair."
Nana stared at her, brown eyes blank.
"Please keep your bubble clear of mine."
Shizuka's fingers paused. Then she giggled, soft and surprised, and let the strand fall.
"Oh. Of course. My apologies."
She didn't sound sorry. She sounded delighted.
"I'm Shizuka. I work with your sister. What's your name?"
"Nana."
"Nana." Shizuka said it like she was tasting it. "That's a lovely name. Does it mean something?"
"Seven. I was born on the seventh."
Her chest puffed up. She'd stood without realizing, chair squeaking against the floor. She clumped back down and chewed.
"How lucky." The cold pressed closer. "What does Mio like to eat?"
"I... curry, I guess. And instant ramen. The cheap kind."
"Does she cook for you?"
"Sometimes."
"Does she smile when she does?"
Nana picked up the onigiri. Bit into it even though she couldn't taste anything anymore.
"Why are you asking me this?"
"I'm curious." Shizuka tilted her head. "Does she hum while she cooks? Your mother must have hummed."
Nana's jaw stopped mid-chew. "How do you know that?"
"I don't. I'm guessing." Shizuka's smile widened. "But I'm right, aren't I?"
Nana forced herself to swallow. "She's dead."
"I know. What was she like?"
The words came out anyway, pulled like thread from a spool.
"She smelled like jasmine. She sang off-key. She made tamagoyaki every Sunday."
"Did Mio learn from her?"
"Yeah."
"Does she still make it?"
"Not anymore. She doesn't do anything that reminds her of Mom."
Shizuka nodded. Like she was filing it somewhere cold and deep.
"One more question. Do you dream about your mother?"
The cafeteria felt very far away. The lights too bright. The cold too close.
"Sometimes."
Shizuka smiled. It didn't reach her eyes.
"Thank you, Nana."
The silence stretched.
"You're supposed to be on damage assessment."
Segawa's voice cut across the cafeteria. He stood in the doorway, coat rumpled, cigarette unlit between his fingers.
Shizuka didn't turn. "Ogawa is handling it."
"She was assigned to the girl."
"And now she's handling damage assessment." Shizuka tilted her head. "I kept the girl company. Wasn't that kind of me?"
"Kind." Segawa walked closer. "You scared her half to death."
"Did I?" Shizuka looked at Nana. "Were you scared, Nana?"
Nana met her eyes. Brown on ice.
"No."
Shizuka stood. "See? Mio's sister is made of stronger stuff." She walked past Segawa. Paused at his shoulder. "You should feed her more. She's too skinny."
Then she was gone. The cold bled away, leaving the cafeteria hollow and too warm.
Segawa looked at Nana. At the untouched food. At the frost still melting on the table.
"Come on. Let's take you home."
"No."
"It's late. You have school tomorrow."
"I'm not going to school."
"There's no bed for you here."
"Then I sleep on the floor."
"You can't just—"
"I'm not leaving." Her voice cracked. Tears spilling over. "Let me stay. Please. Please let me stay."
Segawa stared at her. Her eyes already watering. On cue.
That, or something else. Even he couldn't tell.
"...Fine."
He walked her back. Didn't speak. The hallways felt longer now, the symbols sharper, the humming louder. The chewing machine, grinding away.
The infirmary door opened.
Mio was exactly where Nana had left her. The obelisk still hummed, black stone and gold veins, yellow tubes pumping that thick glowing something into her sister's arm. The monitors beeped. The air smelled like antiseptic and something older.
Her sister's right arm was wrong. Blackened veins spreading from palm to elbow, pulsing faintly, like something alive crawling under the skin. The palm itself was burned raw, cracked in geometric patterns that looked like they meant something.
Nana didn't want to know what.
She pulled the chair closer. Found Mio's left hand, the one that wasn't ruined. Laced their fingers together.
"If you die," she whispered, "I'm selling the dog."
She waited for a reaction. A twitch. A squeeze. Anything.
Nothing.
Nana's head dropped onto the mattress, white hair spilling everywhere. She didn't let go of Mio's hand.
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