CHAPTER THREE

The next morning, Thalia was ready at ten when word came to her upstairs that her ride had arrived. She clumped downstairs in her old boots, otherwise dressed with modest propriety in a silver-gray kimono patterned with cherry blossoms, her fiery hair tamed into three long braids hanging down her back.

She was ready, but not quite awake, and not pleased with mornings at the best of times.

“Lady Thalia Cairde?” a young man with straight dark hair asked, taking care with pronunciation. He wore a Shinsengumi uniform in classic gray with black piping, though it was plainer than those of the Vice-Commander and the Captain. Their coats had been longer, reaching mid-thigh, with embellishments in black velvet around the hems and lapels.

She guessed the waist-length jackets with fewer adornments were for the regular members; she might just get to wear one soon herself. All Shinsengumi uniforms she had seen so far were completed by black cravats tied with simple elegance; none of those complicated English arrangements, she was glad to note.

“Yes, hello,” she said, smiling her morning smile, which was a pale imitation of her usual one.

The young officer bowed and begged her pardon, but he was from Shinsengumi headquarters, and was she ready to accompany him?

“I’m down here, am I not?” she retorted before she could stop herself. He blushed scarlet, making her feel guilty. “I’m sorry,” she said, bowing in apology. “I’m not at my best in the mornings, and this particular morning I’m dealing with a touch of Portal Fatigue,” she explained.

“Oh, no, Lady Cairde, no need to apologize,” the officer assured her.

“Yes there was. Don’t contradict me, it’ll only make me snap at you again,” she said with a wink. He smiled, and it lit up his face. “What’s your name?” she asked as they walked out to the carriage and got in.

“Yamamoto Akira,” he replied.

“Despite my morning bitchiness, I’m glad to meet you, Yamamoto-san,” she said, and this time her smile originated in her silver-blue eyes. Yamamoto returned her smile with one of his own surprisingly sweet ones.

He decided he liked the foreigner. She might be a bit grumpy, but it was nothing to what the Vice-Chief or the Captain could be like at times; and she seemed to really see him. He felt invisible much of the time, alone in the midst of his own group, as if no one recognized him. This was an asset, he supposed, since he was the Shinsengumi’s top undercover operative; but sometimes it wore on him how alone in the world he was.

She wasn’t a snob, as he had expected based on the raving descriptions of some of the other guys. They couldn’t stop talking about her many qualities of form and face.

She was foreign, looked possibly Bloodfire, and had no modesty, he’d been informed by those squad members who had been fortunate enough to get called to the Space Station yesterday. The lack of modesty report was untrue, he decided, although the descriptions ranking her with the goddess of beauty were justified, and she did resemble one of the warrior Bloodfire clan more closely than any other species he saw around Edo.

He could hardly think straight, sitting so near her – yet she was easy to talk to. Her grumpiness helped with that; it made her more human.

“Your carriages have turned out quite differently than ours,” she said, peering out the windshield at the engine pulling their carriage. This one was sleeker and smaller than those in her world, and hid most of its internal workings beneath an elegant painted case. “What metal do you use for those engine covers?”

“Titanium for police and military vehicles, including ours,” he replied. “Usually aluminum for civilians.”

She let out a long, low whistle. “Sparing no cost, I see,” she said.

“Titanium isn’t expensive though,” he said, giving her a puzzled glance.

“Is it not?” she exclaimed. “On my home world it just about costs the Earth. Plentiful titanium is certainly a luxury I haven’t seen before.”

She was curious about everything, peppering him with questions the whole way to Headquarters about what they were passing. Before he knew it she had him explaining the intricacies of hostess and/or host clubs, of all things, which were popular in the Kabuki District.

“So people go in and sit down, and the hosts or hostesses sit with them to serve drinks and food, talking and laughing with them as if they're on a date?” she asked.

“More or less, yes,” Yamamoto agreed.

“I see,” she said. “Where I’m from it’s sort of the other way around.”

“Lady Cairde, what exactly is it you do, if you won't mind my asking?” he asked, curiosity overcoming his natural shyness now that they were on less formal terms. No one seemed to know; she had already proved she knew how to handle herself and others in a crisis, and Captain Okada said she had medical training, but no one was clear about what her actual occupation had been where she came from.

“Do?” she frowned. “It depends what’s needed. I’ve had training in several different areas, although I don’t know how many of my qualifications will count here. I’ll have to take classes for whatever I need that doesn’t transfer, I suppose.”

“Well, what do you want to do, now that you're here? You've already got a reputation, so you'd have some options,” he said with a small mischievous smile.

“What I really want to do,” she said, reflecting mischief back at him, “is set myself up as a mystical hermit to whom people go when they need an herbal remedy or a potion. I’d go live in a cottage in the woods and howl at the moon when it’s full. That’s what appeals to me.”

Yamamoto laughed. “But here you are, doing pretty much the opposite of becoming the village witch; you’re applying to the Shinsengumi, and you’ve got special preference, even though we’ve never accepted women before. How did that happen?” he asked.

“I’m not entirely sure,” she said. “My former boss said she knew someone here and would pull some strings. A few days later, she handed me papers about the Shinsengumi, and the whole thing was already set up. I had no idea I was being sent to an all-male law enforcement unit, although I began to suspect it yesterday.”

This did not answer the deeper question of why she had wanted to come here, to this strange country on a new world in a different universe in the first place; but Yamamoto felt he had pried enough for their first meeting. He switched to a safer subject.

“How did you catch those men yesterday?” he asked. They were all dying to know what she had done to the terrorists; none of the men in custody was coherent on that point.

“It’s simple; I showed them what it was like from their victims’ perspectives. They didn’t like it,” she replied.

Yamamoto looked at her sideways; this was an oblique explanation. “Oh?” was all he thought of to say.

“Yes.” She seemed serious, but disinclined to explain, so Yamamoto let it drop. “Tell me, how do I get to a forest from here?” she asked a moment later. Yamamoto loved wandering woodland paths himself when he had the chance – which was rare – so this opened a rich vein of subject matter.

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Shinsengumi Headquarters was within city limits, but it was a large property on the outskirts. It had to be, to house its one-hundred-plus members as well as contain their dojo and offices. The tall wooden front gates were imposing, and the grey stone walls around the property were forbidding from the outside; inside, however, it was pleasant. There were gardens and many shade trees, with a few small shrines outdoors as well.

Yamamoto ushered Thalia through a shoji screen into the chief’s office, which smelled faintly of sandalwood incense. The commander, vice-commander, and first squad captain were already present. The office was minimalist, its shelves holding scrolls, books, and a bonsai tree. There was a wooden desk in one corner, low to the ground like the table around which the men were seated. A scroll with magnificent calligraphed poetry decorated one wall, below which was a stand holding three swords.

“Kato-san, Lady Thalia Cairde. Lady Cairde, Chief Kato Hiroto.” Harada performed this terse introduction; the chief and Thalia bowed to one another and exchanged greetings.

“How was your first night in Edo, Lady Cairde?” the chief inquired, inviting her to sit on the tatami mats with them.

“Restful, thank you,” she replied.

“Doesn’t look that way to me,” Harada murmured, noting the shadows beneath her eyes and the tired line of her jaw.

She raised her eyebrows. “I’m sorry?” she said.

“I’m saying you look tired,” he explained.

“Ah. Well, now that I’m aware we’re critiquing appearances this morning, I feel free to say you look unshaved, Vice-Commander,” she retorted.

“He’s probably hung over,” Okada put in, smirking.

Kato intervened, noting Harada’s indignant expression. “Tetsu, you’re not seeing clearly this morning! Lady Cairde looks lovely,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Sure,” Harada agreed, “in a tired way.”

Instead of escalating, Thalia laughed. “All right, I am tired. I’ve got Portal Fatigue, and mornings make me want to spit sharp objects at people even at the best of times. I was merely attempting to be polite, Commander Kato,” she said, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

“And Harada-san was merely attempting to be rude,” Okada muttered, ignoring the Vice-Chief’s blazing glare in his direction.

The chief once again intervened. He was accustomed to this necessity whenever Harada and Okada were in the same room; their constant bickering was of long standing. “Ah, well, Lady Cairde, this was not the way to begin – I should have offered you tea. Will you have some? Or perhaps you prefer coffee?”

“Coffee, thank you,” she said. Kato nodded to Okada, who went to get it.

“Lady Cairde, we are grateful for your intervention on behalf of the citizens yesterday,” Kato began. “It also served to show us the quality of work you’re capable of, and we’re impressed. But we hoped you could tell us what exactly happened when you went in there. None of the suspects arrested at the scene can explain what you did or said to make them see reason. We’re very curious.”

“I’m happy to tell you, although I’m not sure you’ll believe me,” Thalia said.

“You’d be surprised what we’ll believe,” Kato laughed. “Try us.”

“First, I assume you’re all aware I am not entirely human?” she asked. He nodded.

“Yes, that was mentioned when your former boss’s proposal got passed to us. We don’t have your kind in our dimension, at least not that we’re aware of; you’re the first,” Kato said. “We know practically nothing about your people.”

“With communication so much easier now between universes, you can obtain pertinent histories and legends so you can corroborate what I tell you, if you wish,” Thalia said. “I also brought my personal credentials and documents with me.” She handed a folder to the Commander, which the Vice-Commander was tempted to snatch. His curiosity was overpowering.

She continued after Kato thanked her. She summarized what she had already told Harada the day before about the Fae; this time he noticed she used ‘we’ rather than ‘they’ in referring to Faeries. Perhaps she identified more closely with her Fae than her human side, Harada thought.

Okada came back into the room with Thalia’s coffee; she thanked him so sincerely he could not help smiling, but dropped his gaze abruptly.

She understood why he felt this awkwardness better than he did, because she had recognized him, just as she had recognized Harada. They all knew each other of old. They were already beginning to remember also, she could tell; this would lead to some awkward moments in the near future, she had no doubt.

Harada was often silent when Kato conducted an interview, both out of respect and preference. However, he spoke up now.

“I searched interdimensional archives last night, Lady Cairde, and somewhat to my surprise I discovered a page with information on the Fae. I don’t know if it’s accurate, but it seems quite detailed. I wonder if you could verify some things?” he asked.

“Of course,” she agreed.

“The source indicated that the main differences in Faerie abilities from those of humans are connected to nature; you can change shape at will, or manipulate the elements if you so choose. Is that correct?”

“Not entirely. Full-blood Fae are now almost extinct in my former world, and even they are limited in what shapes they can take. I’m only a half-blood, so I’m limited to three alternate forms: one each for land, sea, and sky. Horse, Seal, and Owl.”

“Can you explain more specifically?” Kato asked.

“I’ll try. Shapeshifting is also called skin-turning where I’m from. Our kind of Fae are born with only their birth form, usually humanoid. One sign that a Faerie has come of age is the ability to shift shapes, or turn their skin, which is to become so at one with other creatures that you really are one of them for a while. I have my three animal forms, and cannot take more than that, though full-blood Fae may have dozens or perhaps hundreds. Specifics are in my file; there are photographs of each form as well as description, so I can always be identified.”

All of them wanted to know more, but even Okada held back for once out of politeness.

She continued: “As for the elements, we once had almost unlimited power over wind, water, earth and fire, but long ago there was a terrible war. The elemental gifts were abused in that war, and our people were punished by the higher gods, to include the consequence of having our power revoked. We have slowly been regaining it, but there are still definite limits to what we can do.” Her eyes looked sad and far away as she said this.

Harada Tetsuya had the oddest feeling that he was standing on the edge of a monumental discovery, but could not grasp it yet.

Thalia snapped herself out of her reverie. “Relevant to yesterday’s events, one thing some of us – including myself – can still do is sense guilt. Blood-guilt especially, but we can find any guilt a person is hiding if we look hard enough. I used this often in my former work.”

“That would come in useful around here, too!” Kato exclaimed. “I don’t suppose it can be taught, eh?”

Thalia shook her head.

“Ah well, I didn’t think so,” Kato said, still cheerful.

“I think I see where you’re going with this now,” Harada said.

She nodded at him. “You probably do. Those who can do this were once in charge of bringing justice in situations that were impossible to disentangle using standard methods. When we found guilt in someone’s mind, we could pluck it out and make it clear to others; or we could make the guilty psychologically live through everything they did to their victims. What I did yesterday was the latter. I stood with the hijackers around me and simply had them look at me; they made that easier to accomplish by demanding I take my clothes off.”

Harada and Kato were both startled. Okada nodded. “I wondered why you hadn’t worn your cloak onto the ship when I saw you with it later,” he remarked. “I’m surprised they let you keep anything on.”

“They didn’t ‘let’ me, I just ignored their demand. They could see quite well enough that I had no weapons, and that was their only valid excuse for asking me to take anything off,” Thalia said, getting annoyed again. “Anyway, once they had their eyes on me I took the guilt from their minds and made them endure what they had been putting the hostages through. That’s why they threw themselves at you begging to be arrested – I made them experience the fear, distress, and pain they inflicted. I imagine you’ll be seeing PTSD-symptoms, and at least one of them is going to feel a lot of pain. That would be the one who did the shooting.”

She sipped her coffee, letting them absorb this.

“It’s just as you say,” Kato said, looking at her speculatively. “You have medical training as well?” he asked then.

“Yes, although I’m not qualified as a physician in mainstream methods. The specifics of my training are outlined in the folder, and I can of course answer any additional questions you might have,” she explained.

“Ah, yes. Thank you for this – I will look it over with great interest!” Kato assured her with his gregarious smile. “For today, I believe we have taken up enough of your time, Lady Cairde. Yamamoto will drive you back to your hotel. I hope you will not object to coming in again tomorrow?”

“It would be an honor, Chief Kato,” she assured him, bowing.

She exchanged polite bows with the Vice-Chief and Captain as well; none of them spoke, but her smile lingered.

Yamamoto was a little worried about this foreigner being on her own in Kabukicho. “What will you do with your day, Lady Cairde?” he asked on the drive back to her hotel.

She smiled. “I intend to find out how much of what you said about the local woodland beauty is true,” she said.

“Oh? You won’t explore the neighborhood, then?” he asked.

“I’ll have plenty of time for that,” she said. “I need the woods, Yamamoto; I need the trees around me and the smells of moss and last year’s dead leaves.” The deep fatigue in her voice startled him.

“Do you want me to take you there?” he asked. Her eyes were strained, her mouth vulnerable; she looked almost ill.

“Oh, no, my dear,” she said, snapping herself out of her fugue and smiling warmly. “But how kind of you to ask.”

They fell into harmonious silence for the few minutes left in the trip.

“Please enjoy yourself, Lady Cairde,” he said in farewell.

“I’m certain I will. Thank you, Yamamoto,” she replied.