The array of tonal noises danced through the lab as Noah paced back and forth. He had tried calling everyone—twice! Although he hated it, the man managed to thoroughly justify his heart rate going up.

“Please….please…” He held his breath, squeezing the phone with his clammy hands while uttering a silent prayer to whichever greater power would listen.

“Nothing?” Having returned from her trip to the dispenser machine, Dr. Emily handed the pale man a paper cup while gripping onto one herself. She despised drinking coffee so late, but something told her this was going to be a long night.

“Nothing.” Noah didn’t dare to take his eyes off the low-res screen while sipping on the dark liquid.

“They’re going to be fine.” Emily tried to provide some words of reassurance, but they felt empty. “Tanji and the rest aren’t as dumb as they look. And Yulka? She's a survivor. She had been that way since she was a cub. As soon as we deal with Koko-“

“You don’t know if it’s her fault!” He snapped, putting down the drink which his shaky hands could no longer stand holding. “You don’t—you just don’t know. We don’t know anything. Okay?“

“Noah…” She crossed her arms, pressing her lips together.

“Koko wouldn’t do something like this. She’s my ‘mimi. I know—she wouldn’t—she just wouldn’t.”

“Get a grip.” Letting out a labored sigh, Emily wiped away some of the spilled coffee. “Koko lied to you.”

“You don’t know that.” Noah now had to consciously stop himself from shouting. His voice became hoarse, like a machine gun with a suppressor attached to it. “This harms EikōBio, right? She loves this company—really, really loves it.” Taking a deep breath, the man gobbled the rest, throwing the empty cup into a trash can across the room. “People don’t just do things. Cause and effect. Cause and effect…” He repeated, his voice dimming.

Dr. Emily leaned against the lab bench, her expression softening as she watched Noah struggle. “Tell me what you’re going to do. And please don’t say anything stupid.”

“I am going to talk to KyotoSynth.” He looked out of the window, his eyes focused on a huge ad pillar in the distance—the company’s emblematic red flashing against the starless sky like a beacon. “They know something. And now—with their executive dead—they might be desperate enough to play ball.”

“The leadership isn’t going to like this.” Emily warned, seeing his determined face illuminated by the scarlet lights. “You no longer have Hiro as your lifeline.”

“Don’t you remember? I am a handler. My Kemonomimi.” He tapped his chest violently. “My responsibility.”

“Noah…”

“You’re a doctor. I trust you on medical matters, don’t I? I even believe that there’s some consciousness living in my genes because you—and you alone—told me so.” He swallowed, feeling his throat getting coarse. “This is a handler's matter.”

“Noah…” She repeated, making one last disapproving face to gauge his reaction.

“What!?”

So there was no pushing him along from this. There was nothing she could give or promise to stop him from at least trying. He wasn’t the same boy who just did whatever the cabal told him. “Fine. I trust you.” Reaching into one of the shelves, the woman pulled out a backpack, handing it over to him. It was small, yet filled to the brim—overflowing with boons that deformed the thin fabric.

“What’s this?” He shook it, trying to estimate the contents like a kid on Christmas.

“Something to help you along the way—to prove that I care. Treat it as your final prescription.” She looked up at him. “It was meant as a field test but…yeah.”

“Is it a weapon?” Even the possibility made the man finally stop bouncing the thing in his palms, instead pressing it against his chest. “You know that I am terrible with guns, right?”

“No?!” That was a weird conclusion to jump to, with the doctor getting a little offended. Did he actually think that she would just hand him a pistol? She wasn’t an engineer (much less a weapon maker). “It’s not a gun. Don’t worry, there are notes inside. So don’t start swallowing random pills, okay?” Failing to lighten the moon, Emily straightened her face, trying to convey that there was no malice in her words. ”After that, don’t contact me anymore—for my sake.“

“I wouldn’t.” With a nod of gratitude, Noah slung the backpack over his shoulder, feeling its weight—a physical reminder of his burden. Heading for the door, he glanced at Emily. Her expression was a mix of concern and resignation. “Emily. Are you angry at me? Because it’s fine if you are.”

There was a certain oxidizing feeling in her chest as the doctor walked up towards the window, popping her head out into the cool evening air. “No. It’s important to go against the norm every once in a while—to do something a little controversial. It’s a sign of a healthy working brain.” A cheap justification, but even half-truths were better than nothing. She turned back, leaning against the window sill. “But I’ll be angry at you if you get yourself killed.”

“I wouldn’t.” He promised, even if he had no right to. With that, he headed for the exit, leaving behind the gated alabaster castle of EikōBio.

Caught in an idle state, Noah carefully observed each plume of condensation. He had called KyotoSynth, and Oliver himself told him that he’d be there ASAP. But when you’re working for a corporation, “as soon as possible” could mean 5 minutes or 5 hours. For a moment, he thought about maybe going somewhere. But where could he realistically go? Not the house, that’s for sure. He couldn’t bear to see it empty.

“Nochan~” A voice called out from the corpocar, prompting the man to stand up from the metal bench. His ass was getting cold anyway. With the doors sliding open, he could see the same KyotoSynth bunny waving at him even though the two were less than 10 feet apart. As with everything else, having this switch in perspective made Oliver appear slightly different, with the Usagimimi now having to strain his neck in order to look Noah in the eyes.

He still had the same long, straight raven hair, with two matching black eyes looking up at him through a pair of pink shades. Oliver’s entire outfit seemed to be a weird mockery of the corporate world. As you went from top to bottom, it was hard to anticipate what would come next: an expensive-looking black suit, cheap pink skirt, striped white-blue thighs, and dark brown leather loafers.

“Hop in, Nochan.” Oliver called out, gesturing for him to climb aboard. He did just that, stepping over the bunny to get to the other side of the car.

“So. Let’s go over the facts.” Noah tried to keep himself comfortable, looking through the stained windows as Namiport became an urban blur. Turning towards Oliver, he raised his hand. “My ‘mimis—Tanji and Mirei—saw a Genovista representative in an underground market. Sunohara. Some kind of handler, if I were to guess.”

“And they saw this Sunohara character during the EikōBio beach event.” The bunny boy confirmed, nodding along as if the two were solving the same equation. “This means that you should know her.”

“Yes. And I don’t doubt she could’ve been mistaken for anyone else. We interacted a lot that day. Girl's not easy to miss.” Noah began rhythmically tapping the divider between their seats to keep his hands busy. “What I want to know is how this factors into the greater picture. You mentioned that Genovista is likely getting some outside support, right?”

“That’s the only way we could justify them rising in power so quickly.” Oliver confirmed, touching his own cheek. “I hope that doesn’t make my bosses sound like they’re having some complex about the whole issue.”

“No, you’re right to worry. This is strange. Very strange.” Rubbing his hands together, Noah once again turned towards the bunny. “And I am assuming you have some information about that specific underground market?”

“Correct. You’re catching on quickly. Good man.” He let out an almost silent chuckle, covering his mouth. “That’s what Hiro used to say, wasn’t it?”

“You can cut out the theatrics.”

“Not having fun, Nochan?” The man stuck his tongue out while giving Noah’s arm a punt. Even if he tried to hurt him, he doubted that his 2-foot-tall frame could muster many more pascals. “It’s going to be okay. As long as you’re with me, KyotoSynth will treat you like family. And at the end of the day, EikōBio will probably give you a bonus for the initiative.”

“Yeah. Bonus.” He grumbled. “Probably a 50-dollar voucher to be used at a company-owned restaurant. Besides: if we’re having a meeting with the KyotoSynth board, wouldn't it be better for my ‘mimis to be there? As—you know—witnesses? This is just hearsay.” It wasn’t like he expected Oliver to pull Tanji or Mirei out of a hat, but enlisting KyotoSynth as his private detectives would’ve been just what he needed.

“You’re their handler. Anything you say about your Kemonomimi is seen as absolute truth.” Oliver turned towards him, wrapping his hands around Noah’s arm. while giving that smile that seemed too wide for his face. “Lighten up, Nochan. You’re one of them—a corpo. Don’t think about this like being a sheep walking into a lion’s den; all of you are lions.”

“How reassuring.” He pulled away—his right leg beginning to bounce. The less he thought about lions, the better.

“You’ll do fine.” It was hard to find the source of all this optimism within Oliver. His company just took a big hit, and here he was—grinning. There was hardly time to pick his little brain apart, but Noah couldn’t help but cautiously observe his round face. “We’ll dress you up nicely for the occasion.”

“I know how these things work.” Being a representative in a corporate meeting was much like being a tank on the fields of World War 1: a lot of his actual impact was purely psychological. Corporations might seem cold from the outside, but amongst the upper echelons, there are many chances to be humans—to be liked. “You’ve got a suit for me? Something classy?”

“You could say that.” Reaching into the miniature fridge hidden in the divider between their seats, Oliver took out two cans of beer—one for himself, and one for Noah. “But I am afraid it’s not you they want to meet, Nochan. Naomi would make a better impact and make you seem less threatening.”

Freezing in place, Noah felt a cold drop of water gliding across his palm. “So they want Naomi, huh?” Cracking the can open, he tightened his grip, wolfing it down. “That’s doable.”

“Just like that?” His files mentioned Noah to be a little more…apprehensive towards the whole transformation process. It wasn’t like the bunny was going to complain, but this seemed too easy.

“Just like that.” Noah confirmed as Oliver crossed his legs. “I need to be liked, not respected.”

The car managed to reach the KyotoSynth building quicker than he had anticipated. While its onboard navigational computer was programmed to (barely) respect the traffic laws, it precisely zoomed through the traffic like a rat navigating a maze. There wasn’t even enough time for him to finish his beer, with Noah leaving the rest behind in the car.

The building’s lobby was a weird amalgamation of traditional Japanese styles mixed with the geometric patterns of Art Deco, with the walls covered by hues of reds, whites, and blues. All around them, slender columns rose like sentinels—their smooth surfaces adorned with delicate reliefs depicting scenes of nature. KyotoSynth was the first major biocorp ever to be established (the first of any historical significance, at least). Taisho Modernism seemed like an appropriate aesthetic. Sure, it was outdated, but it seemed like this was what the designer was going for.

“I’ll give you time to change, Nochan.” Oliver gave a self-satisfied smile at the double entendre, handing him a sleek white guest badge.

“Thank you—for everything, I mean.” Extending his arm, Noah reached for the bunny’s head but stopped himself. Instead, he knelt, shaking his hand.

“Please. I hate getting praised when I don’t deserve it.” The Usagimimi brushed him off, giving his palm a weak grip before turning away. “This is just part of the job. I just do what I am told.” He tried pointing at his head, but could only reach as far as his stomach. “You’re doing all this for something a little more noble."

Forming a fist, Noah let it go—his fingers spreading apart. “Yes. I care about them. Okay?” He arched his body, looking up at a chandelier. “No shame in admitting it.”

“They’re not just products to you.”

“They are not. I don’t know what to call them, but they’re something more. Tanji…”

“Your first.” Noah turned towards the bunny as he spoke, seeing him now staring at his own shoes.

“You know a lot about me.” He noted, seeing Oliver’s ears slouching down slightly. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from somebody involved with Hiro.”

“I like to be informed. Comes with the territory.” Like a gauge, his ears straighten up slightly at the compliment. “Now, Tanji…”

“What about her?”

“You could say…she’s like a daughter to you.”

“WHAT-“ Noah found himself choking on air, pounding his chest. “No. Not a daughter. Don’t—uh—don’t say that ever again. Please.” Trying to laugh it off, he subconsciously placed his hand on Oliver’s head, ruffling his hair. “She’s just a very special person to me. I don’t really believe in stuff like this, but the night we met? It felt like fate.”

“Must be nice…” The man mumbled before looking up at him, his face switching back to a grin. It looked like Oliver was wearing layers upon layers of masks, with one of them slipping off occasionally to reveal a more appropriate one underneath. “But there is no time to waste!” He pushed on Noah’s leg. “Come on, Nochan! Get changed!”

Staring at the red water, Noah made a confident face—scaring his reflection into submission. The entire room reeked of cherries which came from the bathing salt Oliver gave him. Precipitation built up on all the windows, separating him from the world. He had an opportunity to look through the bag Emily had left him, passing through a series of pills, ointments, and the familiar transformation capsules (just as she promised, no guns).

“I am right here.” He whispered, lowering himself into the warm water. Bouncing the plastic capsule in his hand, he finally allowed it to fall into the expanse with a wet PLOP. Now, it was just a matter of passing out. Surprisingly enough, trying to faint was harder than specifically trying not to faint. But after a few slurred memories and half-thoughts, the fugue state overcame him.

“So that’s what I am….” The horned woman continued sitting on her throne of rust. This realm—her forest—seemed idle, with the only real motive force being that directionless wind. One singular difference Noah noticed was the sheer volume of leaves that fell from the trees, leaving them bare and looking like white spears pointed at heaven.

“You didn’t know?” Noah questioned, resting his chin on his hand while leaning against one of the cars.

“I only know as much as you do. Idiot.” She replied, getting closer to him—her footsteps muffled by the red carpet.

“You’re going to try choking me out? Taking control?” Unprompted, the two began circling each other as if locked in a duel. “Doctor gave me pills and-“

There came an annoying grumble, with the woman rubbing her temples. “I already told you: I know as much as you do.” Suddenly, her expression softened. “But it seems a bit pathetic, doesn’t it? Just being scraps of DNA.”

“We don’t…I don’t know. It’s just a hypothesis. Barely even a hypothesis—a theory.” He took a deep breath of the liquid air, stopping in his tracks. The woman mirrored him. “If it makes you feel any better, I am just a collection of self-replicating chemicals.”

“Would be better than this.” Allowing the scraps of business clothing to fall from her shoulders, the woman revealed her body. It was pale, with flashes of purple bruises—like a cheetah’s camouflage.

“You want out.”

“Yes.” She nodded. “I want out. But I also know about Tetrafirtucrycin. That’s what that chemical was called, correct? Your memories are all over the place today.”

“That’s it.” Noah confirmed. Just how much did she know—how much did she see? It’s not like this thing can literally look through his eyes, only interpreting the passing signals.

“So treat me like an animal wise enough to know that pouncing on its cage is hopeless.” With that, she slumped down to the floor again, spreading her legs.

“I can let you out.” He prematurely raised a hand while sitting by her side. “And I know that you know about the capsules.”

“You’re going to isolate me into one of them?” Noah nodded in confirmation. “Why?”

“I am in a bind—as you already know. Since we share this body, me getting put in the ground means you die as well. Don’t know if you’re actually conscious or not, but all DNA wants to preserve itself, and I need an ally who is caught up to speed.” Standing up, Noah dusted himself off while extending a hand. “There might be a time when I’ll need you to take over. So. Peace?”

The horned woman stared at his palm for a moment. Sure, she might have had all the solid data, but the human consciousness—Noah’s notion of self—was beyond her. This was one thing she was absolutely sure that the man was wrong about: it wasn’t just a collection of chemicals like everything else in his body, but something almost supernatural. “Peace.” She replied, shaking on it.

The boardroom was a truly cavernous space—its walls adorned with dark wood panels that seemed to absorb any hint of light. Naomi (née Noah) now stood at the expanse that was the polished table. Her white hair made her stand out against the void, almost demanding the attention of the board. They sat all around her, although you could only see the sharp edges of their faces—like glints of blades. The air was heavy with the smell of aged wood and expensive perfume as Naomi cleared her throat, quickly patting down her blue dress.

A strong feminine face stood out from the crowd, her eyes tracing the mouse girl as she walked around the stage that was the table. The woman’s suit combined the elegance of black with the richness of gold. But it wasn't just her clothes. No, the woman herself had a large price tag attached to her birth. She was a designer baby; her parents weren’t even trying to hide it. Her luminous yellow eyes—much like the Nezumimi's ivory hair—radiated amidst the darkness. If the plaque was to be believed, her name was Fujimoto Kohana.

“So this is the EikōBio handler.” She finally spoke up, forcing the hushed whispers to subside. “Coming to us with this…allowing my men to look over your genome…it reeks of desperation.” Taking a long drag of her cigarette, she tapped it against an ashtray, making Naomi lose her footing. “Does your boss know?”

“He does not.” Naomi confirmed, sulking a little while marching towards her. It would have been nice for the woman to at least pretend the two were friends at the beginning of the meeting. KyotoSynth crowd seemed even more gloomy than the EikōBio board.

“As expected.” Reaching down, her slender fingers suddenly wrapped around Naomi’s waist, lifting her up. “Transforming like this for your masters…it must be an unpleasant ordeal.”

“I am used to it.” She responded, not daring to break eye contact.

“You know.” The grip tightened a little bit, brushing her thumb over Naomi’s chest. “I don’t attend a meeting without a squad of at least 4 CorpSec soldiers handpicked by me—plus counter-sniper detail.” She began moving her finger in circles, stimulating the woman’s barely-existent chest and watching her squirm in her palm. Even through the relatively thick fabric, she could feel the tiny nipples poking through—her pale face turning an embarrassing shade of pink. “And yet, here you are.”

“I am not…worried…” Naomi squeezed out between sharp exhales, closing her crimson eyes. The woman was using her body like a toy—just a bit of stress relief after all the meetings which caused her real anxiety. Compared to this, the woes of a handler were a sideshow. There was something exciting about watching a tiny mouse holding onto your finger for support—gasping and wheezing while making dumb faces. Sure, even if this thing was a human, she could’ve still forced it to kiss her foot if she so desired. But this? She had a tactile power over this little thing, like a cat playing with its prey.

“I would be.” Kohana made a mental note to order more Nezumimi for her to fool around with while giving Naomi a moment to rest her excited heart. She didn’t want to make her pass out, after all. If there was one thing the woman despised more than anything, it was wasting time. “What can you do, really? If you had some hidden Ace, KyotoSynth intelligence would’ve known about it.”

Wiping her mouth, Naomi swallowed. “No. Not an ace. Nothing like that. I just have a feeling that you’re magnanimous.”

The executive raised an eyebrow with a weak smile as if to indicate that she liked the sound of that particular word. “Magnanimous? How so?”

“KyotoSynth is the big brother to all the corporations.” She finally stood up, holding onto the woman’s index finger for support. “And yet, they allowed others to survive.”

Kohana leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs as she regarded Naomi with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. "So, we’re benevolent overlords, are we?"

The mouse straightened her posture. "More like guardians—protectors of the balance in the corporate world. This is why I believe that you want to deal with the Genovista situation. I’ve told you all that I know." She extended a finger, pointing at the woman’s face. “Your turn.”

“My turn, is that right?” She echoed. At first, there came a chuckle. Then, the woman burst into a silent laughter—her whole body moving while barely any sound came out. It was a bit scary to watch, with Naomi taking a step back. “You’re a very lucky mouse.” She commented, watching a woman fixing her doll-sized blue dress. “Tell me: have you done prior research on me?”

“Didn't have the time to, I am afraid.” There was no point in lying. The executive was reasonably happy, and Naomi wanted to keep it that way.

“So you were winging it.” Kohana crossed her arms. “Very lucky indeed.”

“Anyways.” Naomi once again stood at attention, now glancing over the entire board.

The confident smirk disappeared from Kohana’s face, her lips once again forming into a thin line. “Taking a direct offensive action against Genovista right now would be ill-advised. KyotoSynth doesn’t make these types of decisions on a whim.”

“Yes, I know—I know.” Naomi began pacing back and forth like a desperate dictator addressing her troops. “It’s not like I expected you to mobilize. But your forces far surpass theirs. Even an indirect strike-”

The executive raised her hand, making the mouse freeze in place. “Do you realize that the underground markets sell to some very high-society clients? It’s not just a chop-shop for Kemonomimi.” Naomi nodded, watching the woman light another cigarette. Soon, a bellow of smoke was blown in her face, drowning the tiny mouse in a silver cloud of tobacco. “We’ve managed to track down these transactions. The YŪGEN banking group cleared them.” She snapped her fingers. “Like that.”

Naomi bit her lip—her brain stuttering as it rejected the new information. “Are you sure it wasn’t just a rogue clerk?”

“Positive.” There was not a hint of uncertainty in her words—not a sliver of doubt. The realization that YŪGEN might have been working with Genovista was like telling their guest that the corporation had a lend-lease on a nuke.

Naomi looked down puzzled, scratching the back of her head. “I know that they were upset about my people, but to directly get themselves involved? Doesn’t this break the Great Game?”

“It does, It doesn’t—who knows.” Lifting the Nezumimi by her tail, the woman dropped her flatly back onto the table as if to inform the rest of the board that she was done. “What I know is that I need to look after my people.” Tapping her cigarette against the rim of the ashtray, the mouse girl watched as more gray flakes joined the pile. “KyotoSynth is going on the defensive.”

“But…” Naomi searched for a way out, but all that she saw were the stone faces of executives. The only “friend” here was Oliver, but even he looked away when their eyes met as if to avoid shame by proxy. “But they killed one of yours!” She finally spat out, with disappointed chatter now slithering through the room like the hisses of a snake.

A small crack appeared on Kohana’s face as she stood up—a singular chip in her chiseled features. "This meeting’s over.” On cue, everyone else rose, leaving the room through different doors. Only Naomi remained: a lone actor with no audience.

The rain poured down in relentless sheets, drumming against the pavement as Noah stood beneath the bus stop. He took a drag from a cigarette, the smoke mingling with the misty air—obscuring his thoughts as effectively as the surroundings. For what it was worth, the horned girl left him alone during the return trip into a human. Maybe she took pity on him. Maybe poking him just wasn’t fun anymore.

“Were you expecting to raise an army?” Oliver questioned, bringing him an umbrella. It was one of those cheap red ones with KyotoSynth’s logo stamped on the hilt.

“Honestly?” Noah turned towards the bunny, bringing his arm to the other side to avoid ash falling on Usagimimi's head. “I just wanted a few friends.”

“Oh. Okay.” It wasn’t like him to look so miserable, with a little voice at the back of Oliver’s skull telling him to smile. “Sorry.”

“It happens.” He mumbled, throwing the cigarette into the gutter.

“What was that?”

Tightening the straps of his backpack, Noah just exhaled. “Nothing.” There was a pause. “You know, the bus will soon come.”

“Where are you going?” Oliver said while quickly trying to decode the mess of colorful lines that was the Namiport’s public transport system. “I can get somebody to drive you around.”

“I am not leaving Namiport if that’s what you’re asking.”

“I wasn’t-” The bunny looked down, taking a step closer. Leaning his head against the man’s leg, Oliver closed his eyes. “Good luck, Nochan.”

The bus soon arrived. Turning back, Noah offered one last wave before climbing onboard. The interior was dim—lit only by the occasional flash of lightning and the faint glow of the overhead lamps which looked like they were about to give up. He found an empty seat near the back and settled in, leaning his head against the window and watching the rain cascade down. Pressing the phone against the side of his head, he counted down the rings until it crackled with static.

“Sunohara?

“…”

“It’s me.”

“…”

“Can we meet up?”