It had not gone better this time.
Their oversight, thought Renko, as she stumbled back into the lab, was that they couldn't communicate across the dimensions. That would have made the whole thing a lot easier.
"Renko!" cried Wakaba, rushing to her side the moment she appeared. "Are you alright?"
"Your trackers not tell you?" she chuckled grimly.
"Of course," she said sharply. "It was an emotional question, not a physical one, you silly girl."
"I'm fine," said Renko, forcing herself upright. "I'm used to it now."
"It seemed rough in there, going by your brainwaves," said Wakaba, glancing back at her computer. "Seems the next thing I need to develop is a way to keep in contact with you while you're in there."
"Could you build a mic into these?" asked Renko, unstrapping the wrist braces and handing them to her.
"It's an idea," said Wakaba, taking them. "You'd need an earpiece to hear me too… I'd need to be careful though. He can't realise I'm actually working with this, or he'll wonder why…"
"How is it you have the lab free at all?" asked Renko.
It had been nagging at her ever since she got inside—she'd already checked to make sure Wakaba's allegations about harassment were true, and it was perfectly obvious they were, after some close reading and a little time in Shido's Palace, but…
"It's complicated," said Wakaba, with a grim smile. "Suffice it to say you aren't the only one who's had to do unsavoury things to get ahead, Renko."
"So you been using that time to develop the bracers?"
Wakaba sighed, setting them down on the table. "At first I tried to get in myself—I just wanted something—anything, but… I couldn't seem to manage it. Part of me was afraid I'd already revealed too much—that if he saw me in there somehow it would all be over. It wasn't long after that I worked out what you were doing. So I decided to develop something more… auxiliary instead."
"Right," said Renko.
She couldn't see Wakaba's face from where she stood, but she had a feeling she didn't want to.
"But you're right," she said, pushing herself upright. "We need to be able to communicate while you're in there if I'm to be of any use at all. Come back next Friday, and we'll review our progress then."
"Okay," she said.
That was fine. It wasn't like Wakaba was in any immediate danger, after all—she'd managed to hold out this long. And Renko had other things she needed to see.
"Now then, let's get all this stuff back away," she muttered, beginning to clear away the vast reams of machinery.
The effects of the Metaverse on her system were already beginning to sink in as she stumbled back to the café that evening. Being able to get genuinely injured in the Metaverse was a whole lot more horrifying than she'd first realised—she was good at avoiding being seen by now—goodness knows she had enough practice, but she'd never really felt… afraid of being spotted before. But she did now. And that was somehow more tiring than everything else she'd done combined.
Luckily for us, the normal Metaverse is still normal.
Arsène had a point. And they still had business in the normal Metaverse too.
We have three targets lined up, said Arsène. No Palaces, just idiots who need to be bashed about a bit.
"Well, we'll see about that," Renko replied, making sure the door was properly locked behind her. "I'm not sure some of them deserve to get off so easily."
Point taken, said Arsène. There's that manager abusing idols…
"Yep. He's totally dead."
I approve.
"You always do."
Renko's phone pinged in her pocket. What was it now?
She fished it out and glanced at the lock-screen.
Sakura Futaba: Hey, stop talking to your imaginary friend, wacko.
She really needed to work out how to disable those fucking bugs.
Sakura Futaba: Don't even think about messing up my hard work!
Sakura Futaba: Do you know how hard it is to set those things up?
Renko begrudgingly unlocked the screen to reply.
Amamiya Renko: Who says I'm doing anything?
Sakura Futaba: I know you, dumbass, you'll take the first opportunity to sabotage me!
Amamiya Renko: I live here. Aren't I entitled to some privacy?
Sakura Futaba: No.
Amamiya Renko: :( :( :(
Sakura Futaba: Don't make that face!
Amamiya Renko: :( :( :( :( :( :( :(
Sakura Futaba: Listen, they're there to keep an eye on Sojiro, not you—just go upstairs and make your grand murder plots up there.
Sakura Futaba: Who are u planning to kill btw? Is it your teacher? Please say it is.
Amamiya Renko: It's haremfucker69. My mortal nemesis in Blue Dead Demonisation.
Sakura Futaba: Lmao I thought they introduced a profanity filter into that game!
Amamiya Renko: Well if they have, they've done a piss-poor job of it, haven't they? Now if you'll excuse me, I need to bully a thirteen-year-old.
Sakura Futaba: They grow up so fast…
Amamiya Renko: Have fun listening into an empty café, creeper.
Sakura Futaba: Oh, I will.
With that she stuffed her phone into her pocket and hurried up to the relative sanctuary of her bedroom.
I always forget she has bugs down there, said Arsène, mournfully.
"Of course you do, we're the same person," muttered Renko.
Occasionally she got paranoid enough to do an intensive check to make sure she hadn't put any bugs in her actual bedroom, but fortunately it seemed that was one line Futaba wasn't willing to cross-which meant she could have her conversations out loud and in peace.
"Now then, three targets and…"
One last one. You need to check to make sure he has a Palace.
"Oh, I'm fairly sure he does."
Well then, let's find out, shall we?
***
Monday 25th April
The three targets Renko had outlined before had not been troubling to deal with, and now they wouldn't be troubling anyone else either. What was troubling though, was the persistent lack of any sign or sound from the Metaverse interloper, whoever it was. In fact, there'd been so little evidence of anyone else in the Metaverse that Renko was beginning to think that monster that resided in the depths had just been messing with her.
Maybe they're dead? Arsène helpfully suggested as Renko grabbed her bag off the table in preparation to go.
God I hope so. Save us some trouble.
I have a feeling we would not be so fortunate.
So do I, Renko grumbled internally, before a voice from below shattered her train of thought.
"Hey, Renko, you're gonna miss the train!" Futaba yelled up the stairs.
"I'm coming!" she called back, hurrying down them two at a time.
"Finally," Futaba said, rolling her eyes as she appeared at the bottom. "I thought you might have decided to take the day off."
"What, and have Sojiro breathing down my neck all day? I'm not stupid."
Futaba snorted. "If you say so."
Speaking of the which, Sojiro chose that moment to push the café door open.
"Are you kids still here?" he asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise. "You'll be late for the train."
"That's what I was just saying!" said Futaba, grabbing her by the arm and yanking her in the direction of the door. "Come on, let's go!"
"Okay, okay," said Renko, hurrying outside with her. "What's all the rush anyway?"
"I don't want my homeroom teacher to get all huffy 'cause I was late again," said Futaba, sulkily. "She already hates me because I'm friends with you."
"None of those teachers should have a thing against me," Renko protested. "I'm a model student!"
"Yeah, but a criminal record's a criminal record, buddy," said Futaba, "Guess stigma ain't that easy to shrug off."
Renko rolled her eyes. "That's not my problem."
"Yeah, but it is my problem-so hurry up slow-coach!"