Four days after the initial incident had occurred, I was back in my car, headed for Fukuoka again. The city lay spread out before me, its glow radiating upward into the night sky.
I hadn't spoken to the prime minister at all since I'd separated from her in Tokyo. She had been in the hospital for a couple of days, to allow for a full assessment of her condition, and she was now on indefinite leave at home, all supposedly due to a sudden illness.
Only those who had been directly involved knew that she'd even been missing; all evidence of the attack had been skillfully obliterated, and the majority of the Japanese government, let alone the general public, remained blissfully unaware.
I left my car across the street from the prime minister's residence, then snuck in over the fence as I usually did, activating my camouflage before any of the guards or cameras caught sight of me. The whole thing was a familiar routine by now; I sprinted across the grounds to a small door at the rear of the building, and then traced the familiar path through the dimly-lit hallways, to the little section of the building where the prime minister actually lived.
Her door was locked. I leaned against the wall.
Yoko?
The response was vague and confused; she must've been sleeping.
…?
Sorry I woke you; come open the door, all right?
…!
She broke off the connection at once. Less than thirty seconds later, the door swung open, and there she was, standing in front of me in her nightclothes.
I followed her into the hallway, and she closed and locked the door behind me, then waited quietly as I removed my boots. Once I'd tucked them neatly against the wall, I turned toward her again; the smile she gave me was stiff and mechanical, and she was only able to hold it for a moment before her lips began to tremble. The rapid movement of her eyes reminded me of a prey animal watching its surroundings, ready to flee at a moment's notice.
I held my arms out to her, and she walked into them without hesitating, resting her chin on my shoulder.
Her heart beat steadily against my chest, warm and vibrantly alive.
"C'mon," I said. "I'll get you back to bed."
For the second time in a week, I lifted the Prime Minister of Japan into my arms. She was so light that it was nothing to carry her down the rest of the hallway and into her room; once I'd settled her on the bed, I slid under the covers beside her, my arm assuming its usual position across her waist as it had done dozens of times before.
It was such a simple action, and yet I was sure that I'd never take it for granted again.
She pressed her body into mine, and then let out a heavy sigh.
"Thank you…for coming here…."
Her voice was frail and brittle-sounding, and my arm seemed to move on its own as it tightened around her.
"I figured I'd kept you waiting long enough."
I felt her nod shortly, her forehead brushing against my chest.
She was usually quiet, but this was different. Part of me wanted to ask if she was all right, but it would have been nothing more than a social formality; I was the one who'd found her there, frozen and dull-eyed and covered in blood. I knew.
The tips of my fingers ran up and down the length of her back.
"I'll spend the night, if you just want to go back to sleep," I said. "Although…if you feel like talking, I'm up for that too."
She nodded again.
"I have someone now, you know… a professional that I'm supposed to talk to about…all of this…"
She was shaking; I continued to trace methodically along her spine.
"Oh?" I said. "D'you think that's going to help you at all?"
"I don't know…" she whispered, and then heaved another enormous sigh. "I just want it to go away...Everything, I want it to go away…"
Her eyes flickered upwards to meet mine.
"I thought it was my secret…that nobody knew, that I could control it….I thought that even if it did get out, it would just be something small…something somebody might turn into a stupid, petty talking point…and now six people are dead because of it…" She took a deep breath. "Five families who deserve the truth from me, but who won't get it because none of this ever even happened in the first place…and then Mari…."
Her shoulders began to tremble again, and I rested my hand between them, trying to quiet her.
"You're not really blaming yourself for this, are you?" I murmured. "It wasn't-"
"It wasn't my fault," she finished, her voice shaking. "There's nothing I could have done. I know that, everyone's made such an effort to remind me over and over again...but it's all so much more complicated than anyone understands…"
I ran my fingertips in slow circles over her back, at the same time reviewing what I knew of the case in my head. There were parts that I didn't understand; a refugee gang leader had gone to considerable trouble and (assumedly) expense to capture the prime minister, just to throw a file out into the net revealing that her father had been born in China. If that had been his goal all along, why was the kidnapping necessary? Wouldn't it have made more sense to just leak the information and watch the media have a field day with it?
What exactly had gone on during the day between the attack and the time the file showed up?
The only one who'd been there and lived to tell about it was right in front of me.
I took her hand in mine.
"I want to try something, all right?"
She nodded slowly; although I could see the confusion in her eyes, she trusted me. I reached up and withdrew a cable from the back of my neck.
"I'm going to link up with you – try and relax as much as you can."
A small shiver crossed her body as she nodded again, closing her eyes. I slid my hand underneath her hair and made the connection, pressing gently against her barrier, waiting for her. She took a deep breath, and then, all at once, I was through.
Her emotions crashed into me a second later.
Guilt, mostly. A sick, all-consuming guilt that swirled around her mind in thick, noxious clouds, making it nearly unrecognizable. Bright flashes of vivid fear erupted here and there, striking without warning. When I reached out to her ghost, I felt it as something small and soft, wanting only a corner to curl up in where nothing would ever touch it again. I took it into my hands, pulling it close against my chest; in the physical world, I had drawn her in towards my body, so close that I could feel her breath through the fabric of my shirt.
The dark clouds that filled her head shifted and tore into one another, revealing the vague, disconnected images hidden inside them. Her ghost bumped tentatively against mine, wanting to deepen the link but lacking the strength to do it herself.
Make it stop. Make it go away.
I felt her voice, the plaintive whimper of a child, rather than heard it, and I pressed myself fully into the link, into the dizzying, fearful uncertainty.
Show me. Start at the beginning…show me everything…
There was a moment of hesitation, and then, suddenly, decisive clarity.
The clouds swept themselves aside, and I found myself standing in a fog of light and soft color.
It was a street that I knew I'd seen somewhere before, although I couldn't tell whether or not it was from my personal experience or residual nostalgia from Yoko's memories. The scene was reminiscent of the set of a play; the colors of the sky, the plants, and the buildings were bright and exaggerated, and everything up to the horizon seemed flat and two-dimensional, like a painted backdrop. Even the sounds of summer – the chirping of cicadas interspersed with the occasional fluttering of wind chimes – seemed canned, like a recording. The only thing that was truly in focus was the two people walking along the sidewalk; a middle-aged man in worn, faded work clothes, and the young girl who walked beside him, dressed in a neat school uniform with two glossy black braids trailing down her back.
My vision shifted unpredictably; sometimes I was watching the couple from a few meters away, and sometimes I was the girl herself, gazing up at the man's face from just beneath his shoulder.
I had definitely seen that face before; deeply tanned, kind-eyed, and so very much like his daughter's. He was speaking, but it was difficult to pick out the words or sounds – all that mattered was that it was a voice I loved more than any other on earth.
Can I come with you?
The girl's voice was similarly unintelligible, distorted by the vague memories of how she'd sounded then versus the voice I knew now.
Her father smiled and shook his head.
And leave Mama all by herself? Besides, can you imagine how upset with us she'd be if I made you miss that much school?
Oh…
The girl's expression clouded briefly, and then cleared again.
But you won't be gone that long, right?
I'll be home as soon as I can manage it. Maybe even with Nainai and Yeye, depending on how things go.
Really?
We'll see, although they're so anxious to meet their Yangzi in person that they might just follow me home anyway.
The girl's mind flooded with childish pleasure at the loving endearment of her father's name for her, at the thought of finally seeing the grandparents with whom she'd only ever previously exchanged letters.
Then, suddenly, it was all swept away.
There was no color here. I stood on one side of a kitchen table, across from a woman with a slender figure and a cold, blank, yet undeniably pretty face; I instantly recognized her as my mother. Between us, resting on the worn surface of the table, was an open envelope and a folded sheet of paper.
The woman may or may not have been speaking; I couldn't tell. All I could feel was the single crushing truth that dominated my brain; the father I loved, the kind face and the gentle voice, were not coming back to me.
Somewhere inside that truth, there was a subtle shift in my perception of myself, something that stirred memories inside my own consciousness as well. Memories of a child, cocooned inside her own soft little world for so long, suddenly bursting forth into something…else.
The memory shifted again, this time to a scene far more vivid and detailed; it must have been something that had happened after Yoko had been cyberized. She (there was now a very clear distinction between her memory and my cyberbrain self inside it) sat on a comfortable chair in a small conference room, arms folded across her chest, her eyes moving back and forth between the two men, both sporting lapel pins that designated them as government support staff, who took up the sofa opposite her.
"I'm sure this must be distasteful to you on some level, madam," said the man on the left, adjusting his tie, "but your situation is precarious enough as it is, and the fewer opportunities we leave for media scandal, the better. After all, if it were to become widely known that the first female prime minister of Japan was of Chinese ancestry, especially as things stand in the current international political arena…"
"I understand," said Yoko quietly. "I have no objections – whatever you think is best."
The man on the right made a few notes on a tablet. The image of the little girl and her father, illuminated by the sun, flashed briefly into my mind, and I felt Yoko's throat tighten as she swallowed.
"Now," he said, resting the tablet on his lap, "there are a few other items we wanted to discuss with you before your official nomination…"
He reached into a briefcase for a sheaf of papers. Yoko watched mutely as her life up to that point was vivisected and patched back together into something that would be more appealing to the masses.
Her father's face continued to drift through my brain, accompanied by a sickening feeling of betrayal.
I felt her hesitate again; she had reached something that she didn't want to see. Her shoulders began to tremble, and I touched my lips to her forehead.
Take your time.
Slowly, with many pauses, jolts, and odd skips, another memory floated up behind my eyes.
Her emotions came first this time; exhaustion, first and foremost, with a noticeable undercurrent of frustrated isolation, tinged with jealousy. The scene assembled itself piece by piece; the rear seat of the car as she yawned and leaned back against it, the glow of the console as she looked toward the dashboard to check the time, and then finally the lights of the city, spread out beyond the guard rail as she turned toward the window to distract herself.
I realized, with a sudden thrill of foreboding, that she was finally showing me the night of the incident.
"I've lost contact with the other car," said Mari softly from the driver's seat. "Attempting to re-establish."
The memory shuddered and skipped again. This was it.
The impact was so sudden and intense that I almost felt it shake the link itself. The images unraveled into a tangled mess of panic as the car accelerated, was struck again, and finally skidded to the side of the road. I couldn't see anything particularly distinct; a trained professional, Yoko had ducked her head down beneath the window to keep out of sight.
Between her panic then and her reluctance to relive the experience now, it was hard to tell what was going on. I heard footsteps and voices outside of the car, and then the sound of the door opening; Yoko raised her head slightly, looking toward the window.
The image froze, shattered, and then pieced itself back together again, and I felt a sudden sense of dread.
There was a single gunshot, and then the thick, heavy sound of blood splattering against the glass. The silhouette of a body fell backward against it a second later - the security officer.
I knew that he'd been killed; I hadn't known that she'd seen it. A feeling of revulsion, entirely separate from what Yoko was feeling inside her memory, twisted itself up inside me - I knew what was coming next.
I could see Mari leaning over from the driver's seat, probably reaching for the gun I'd found in her hand.
"Get down, please, ma'am."
The memory froze again, lingering on the image of her eyes, warm and reassuring.
Suddenly, the door of the car was wrenched aside. A hand reached in and shoved Mari's head forward against the dashboard.
Another shot. Milky white blood painted the front console, dripping down onto the carpet.
She'd seen all of it. I had no idea.
Everything went dark; Yoko had closed her eyes. I felt her there in her own sphere of black, sick and shaking and nearly out of her head with terror; felt the shift in weight as the rear door to the car opened; felt someone pull her forward roughly by the shoulder and plug something into the back of her neck.
From there, the darkness froze. Her cyberbrain had been locked down.
It seemed like only seconds later when a man's voice woke her, although I knew that in reality it had been hours. She opened her eyes again, and I watched as the entire bizarre drama unfolded before me.
A refugee mob boss had kidnapped the daughter of an old associate, who also happened to be the Prime Minister of Japan, in order to lecture her about destroying the evidence of her heritage, a decision that she'd been coerced into making in the first place. It seemed too ridiculous to have actually happened, but here it was.
For this trivial bit of pettiness, he'd forced her to watch two people very close to her die, and then shut her away by herself to deal with it.
I wished that I'd know all of this beforehand. I had dealt with these people far too kindly.
Her memories drifted in front of me in a muddled haze; fear, cold, and frustration, interrupted by vivid flashes of what she'd seen the night before. She lay there helplessly for hours, waiting for someone to come and save her.
Me. She was waiting for me.
I pushed back across the link, blending her memories with my own – my discovery of the car minutes after she'd been taken from it, the hours I'd spent in the Net searching for any sign of her, my raid on the Chinese government's census records, and finally the decision that had brought me out to Tokyo, almost by chance.
As if I'd just known.
The skips and hesitations were less frequent now. She pushed onward, and I watched her second confrontation with the man who held her hostage, an unexpected surge of pride searing through me as I heard her response to his demands; watched him order the dispersal of their file, which in turn had necessitated the temporary disabling of their jamming signal, making it possible for me to track down my target; felt the burst of hope that had shot up in her heart when she'd heard me call out to her. I continued to match my own experiences to what Yoko was showing me, the two of us neatly locking everything into place as we both converged on that single moment where we had finally come together.
Relief. Safety.
I clasped her tightly against my body, holding her the way she'd wanted to be held then, the way I should have held her.
She understood why I'd pushed her away. It was a necessary evil, a part of the game we played, just the same as how the more unsavory aspects of her personal history had been tucked away out of sight.
Not that this helped it to be any more bearable.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, lips brushing her hair as I spoke, my voice trembling in sympathy with her battered consciousness. "I'm so sorry…"
My cyberbrain picked up where I had left off.
For your father…for Mari…for everyone else… and for making you wait…
The warmth of a gentle sigh fanned across my shoulder, and I felt her shake her head against the curve of my neck.
"Don't be," she said, the words muffled against my skin. She raised her head slightly.
"You're here now."
Our eyes met, and in that instant an understanding passed between us; an understanding of something that neither of us would ever be able to express to one another in speech. It was as if my determination to turn the earth over to find her had melded with her own certainty that I would be the one to come to her rescue, forming a clear conceptual visualization of our tangled relationship that I was unable to find a word for.
Well, that wasn't quite right; there was a very simple word that probably would have summed it up quite nicely, at least in a very broad sense, but it was still far too unspecific for me to feel comfortable saying it.
She was never going to say it either, and that was fine by me.
"Get some sleep," I murmured. "I'll still be here in the morning."
She nodded, snuggling into the weight of my body; I liked the feel of her, warm and soft in my arms, solidly and reassuringly there. Under other circumstances I probably would have found this situation more than a little ridiculous, but here, within this moment, I welcomed it. I wanted to make her feel safe; I wanted to protect her.
After all, who else did she have now?
It took a while, but gradually, things returned to normal. My pay for this latest job arrived in the usual number of unmarked, anonymous increments, supplemented by the various side projects I took on to keep myself occupied, and Yoko returned to her office and resumed her duties as soon as she felt she was able to maintain her professional façade again. Despite her efforts, more than a few media commentators noted just how stressed and exhausted she looked as of late, and rumors began to fly regarding the supposed illness that had kept her out of the public eye for the last few weeks. In the end it was something to be thankful for; that the cover story was interesting enough that nobody felt any need to try and dig deeper.
Another fabrication for the greater good. Another lie.
I knew now just how difficult it was for Yoko to live this way, having every detail of her public existence micromanaged into oblivion. Part of me pitied her for it, but another, much larger part of me was less generous; she should have been used to it by now. She had to have figured out long ago that politics were no business for honest people.
Still, when she called me and asked if I wouldn't mind getting her away from the office for a few days, I immediately agreed.
Anywhere in particular you want to go?
That all depends on where you feel like taking me.
My first thought had been to bring her back to the place I had on the coast near Fukuoka, the place where we'd gone during that incident that had kick-started this entire affair. It was close enough that her security team might throw slightly less of a fit, and out of the way enough that I could reasonably ensure her safety. Then I remembered that her memories of the place would include being chased through the rain by a GSDF team and getting shot; probably not the best thing to dredge up in her mind, especially after what she'd just been through.
I went back to thinking – if I was a cautious, neurotic, top-ranking government official who needed to escape from her life for a weekend, where would I want my close associate (I aggressively blocked that other word from entering my head) to hide me?
Somewhere safe and enclosed; somewhere that felt like home.
There was my apartment in Niihama, but I'd just moved a few months ago, and it wasn't at all set up for guests. Besides, it was hardly even a home to me – I saw it more as a base of operations, a space to keep all of my things for a while before packing up and moving on to the next location.
Somewhere I'd had for a while, where even I felt at ease; the place I'd hung on to for years, even after it had been compromised and half-destroyed, just because I couldn't bear to let it go.
I smiled and reached for a cybercomm channel.
Yoko; when can I come pick you up?
She slept through most of the drive out to Niihama. This didn't concern me at all; I was quite used to the fact that she napped more or less the way a cat did, which is to say constantly. I didn't really blame her for it either, as the first hour of the trip was basically the same as the other six.
We arrived late in the afternoon, just as the sun began to dip down below the horizon. The gate to the driveway unlocked itself and rolled to the side as I came within range; I guided the car past it, around the turn to the rear deck, and finally into its space between a small mini-van and an older SUV. Once I'd turned the engine off, I leaned over to shake Yoko awake.
A jolt of fear flashed behind her eyes for the briefest of seconds before she recognized me.
"We're here," I said, once she'd come back to herself. She yawned and stepped out of the car, and then looked around, her tired eyes slowly taking in the scenery. I opened the rear door of the car, removed our luggage, and carried it toward the house.
"C'mon – the view's much nicer from inside."
Slowly, she nodded and followed me through the door.
Although I'd been forced to remodel the place significantly in the wake of the incident that had happened several years ago, the layout had remained basically the same – one open, airy room, its different sections partitioned off by stairs and low walls. It was fairly small, as there was only so much room for expansion on the mountainside, but the dark marble interior and relative lack of furniture still made it feel empty and cavernous, which was exactly the way I'd wanted it.
"So this is where you live full-time?" said Yoko, walking forward and stepping down into the lounge, toward the enormous sloped window that made up the far wall. I leaned against the doorframe, folding my arms across my chest.
"Not for a while," I said. "What made you think that?"
"It's just so you," said Yoko earnestly, pressing her fingertips against the window as she looked out into the garden, then tracing the pane of glass up to the ceiling with her eyes. "The home of a woman who wants to be left alone, but who wants to be able to see everything around her."
She turned towards me, and I suddenly realized that in bringing her here I'd shown her something very personal.
Perhaps that was what I'd intended all along. I sighed.
"Well, I guess you've got me figured out, then."
Her face fell; that had sounded much harsher than I'd meant it to. I joined her in front of the window, setting one hand on her shoulder.
"You can't really see much from here – let's go out onto the balcony for a little while before it gets dark."
I slid aside the glass door that opened onto the garden, and then led the way up a flight of stairs to the broad stone balcony that hung out over the steep slope.
The early spring air was damp and chilly and not particularly pleasant to linger in, but it was worth it for two reasons; the first was the sight of the sun, a massive, brilliant half-circle resting on the hazy rim of the ocean, its light seemingly setting fire to everything it touched, from the pine forest on the mountain to the silhouette of Niihama off in the distance. The second was the sight of Yoko, leaning out over the wall with her hair blowing around her face, her skin glowing pale bronze in the light, looking, for the first time that I'd seen in a long while, at peace.
As I watched her, it struck me again just how close I'd really come to losing her, and that feeling of unstoppable, protective rage seethed inside me again.
Just as it was going to take her some time to get her life back to normal, it was going to be a while before I could really feel comfortable letting her out of my sight.
The word that I'd been keeping out of my head for the last few weeks slid menacingly toward the front of my mind; I shoved it back before it had time to register.
We spent the rest of the day within an arm's length of each other; never closer than that, but never much further away, either. Even though she was her usual quiet self, the silence wasn't awkward at all – I was more than happy to just sit and listen to the steady rhythm of her breathing. If she wanted more space, or if she wanted me closer, she would let me know.
Very occasionally I'd feel her eyes on me, but whenever I looked up, she'd already turned away, just as she had before.
She only left my side much later in the evening, long after the sun had set, when she decided to go take a bath before she went to bed. It was a while before I saw her again.
I'd gone ahead and dressed for bed myself – normally "undressed" would have been more accurate, but I didn't think it was appropriate under the current circumstances. I sat down on one side of the bed and leaned back against the wall, then closed my eyes and ran one last check on the security system for the night; the house net reported to me that it was functioning fully, and that no suspicious transmissions or signals had emerged in the area.
The moon was up over the trees, its brilliance cascading through the windows overhead. I turned off the floor lamp and sat there, soaking in shaft of light that poured down from above.
To my left, I heard the sound of a door sliding open and turned my head; Yoko emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of warm air, draped in her pink robe, her black hair clinging damply to her face and neck. She froze when she noticed that I was looking at her – I averted my gaze and scooted to one side of the bed to make room.
She padded softly across the carpet and then settled herself on the very edge of the mattress with her back to me. I could almost feel the heat of her body radiating outward, pulling me closer; in the end, however, it was her eyes, soft and questioning as she looked at me over her shoulder, that undid me.
It was always those eyes.
I slid forward and pressed my cheek against the side of her neck; a tense shiver raced down her spine, and the tiny hairs on her arms and shoulders stood on end.
"You all right?" I murmured, wrapping my arms around her waist.
She nodded.
We sat quietly for several minutes more, until she finally broke the silence.
"Motoko…?"
She'd never called me that before.
I didn't dislike it.
"…Yes?"
She pulled forward slightly, as if she wanted room to move; obligingly, I let go of her body. She turned away from me, her shoulders rising gently as she pulled in another deep breath – when she released it, the collar of her robe began to slide slowly down the length of her back.
First one shoulder, and then the other emerged into the open air. Next, she withdrew her arms slowly from the sleeves, letting the fabric gather around her waist, her bare skin gleaming silver in the moonlight.
I sat still behind her, transfixed; for one of the very few times in my life, uncertain.
"…Yoko…"
She bowed her head slightly.
"I want a new secret," she whispered, her voice tight with nerves. "One that's all mine…one that's not going to hurt anyone, because no one's ever going to know about it…except you." Another shiver crossed her body. "That is…as long as you're all right with this…"
As if I could have told her no.
"I'm fine as long as you are," I said softly. "It'll be nice to get out of your head for once."
She looked over her shoulder and gave me such an honest, relieved smile that I couldn't help but return it.
"You'll have to show me what to – I mean, I've never…been with a woman before," she finished awkwardly. "And even…well, otherwise…it's been a while…."
"Mmm…"
I was barely listening to her anymore; my attention was focused on the curves of her neck and shoulders, the way the muscles rolled and shifted smoothly beneath her skin. Slowly, I extended one arm, tracing the sharp outline of her shoulder blade with my fingertips. The palm of my hand continued downward, curving around her arm, snaking across her waist again; to my hypersensitive prosthetic body, her skin felt blazing hot, and the sensation was oddly intoxicating.
She was still too shy to turn around – that was all right. I was satisfied with touching rather than seeing for now.
"I'm going to need you to talk to me," I whispered, pulling her back against my chest and resting my chin lightly on her shoulder. "We're not linked – I'm not going to know if I'm hurting you or if you're uncomfortable unless you tell me about it. All right?"
She nodded shortly, and I squeezed her gently around the waist; she felt small and fragile in my arms, like a doll.
I had no idea why so many people evaluated prosthetic operation skill based on output strength – to me, the real test of ability was being delicate enough to handle an organic body without breaking it. I supposed that I'd just gotten good enough at this over the years that no one ever really gave it much thought; even my two girls at home, for whom the initial attraction had been my body, tended to shrug off the fact that I was strong enough to snap a grown man's neck, let alone that I weighed more than both of them combined.
Yoko was aware of this too, but she'd also seen me in action; she knew firsthand what I was capable of. I had no idea whether this appealed to her or was only serving to make her more nervous.
Suddenly I was uncertain again.
"Don't worry," she murmured, placing her hand on top of mine, as if she'd felt my hesitation and known what I was thinking about. "I trust you."
That word melted to the forefront of my mind again, burning itself into my brain.
There was no escaping it this time; the only thing to do was act on it.
I surged forward, pressing a searing kiss into Yoko's shoulder, gradually mouthing my way up her neck until my lips rested just below her jaw, until I could feel her pulse pounding firmly against them. I sucked the tender patch of skin in between my teeth; her chest heaved as she gasped and rocked backwards, leaning against my body, little tremors rippling over the surface of her skin. Gradually, I worked my way down to her shoulder, the tip of my tongue moving between the faint freckles dusted across her upper back.
Tiny, unique imperfections; I wanted to pay special attention to each and every one of them.
Yoko had stopped shaking; she seemed to have finally relaxed into the feeling of me touching her. Time to push things a little further.
Still tracing the back of her neck delicately with my lips, I slid one hand away from her waist, moving it very slowly upward, my splayed fingers curving over the graceful dips and swells of her body, taking in every inch of her skin. She began to tremble again, mostly when I found a particularly sensitive spot (I made careful note of these for future reference), but there was no indication that she wanted me to stop; it was only when my other hand began to move downward, beneath the robe that was still draped across her thighs, that her fingers clamped down hard around my wrist. She remained silent, but as our eyes met, the message was clear.
Not yet.
And that was fine.
I touched my lips politely to her forehead; her whole face was hot and flushed red. Her bemused embarrassment made me want to kiss her again, so I did – further down this time, on the cheek. I moved in a third time, only to feel the gentle pressure of her hand on my wrist again.
"Wait…"
I drew back. She let go of my arm, then got up on her knees, twisting herself around so that her body was facing me.
"That's better," she murmured, resting her hands on my shoulders.
Even though the rest of her was undeniably lovely, it was difficult for me to look at anything other than her eyes, half-closed, glowing with warmth, drawing closer and closer…
Wanted all of her. Wanted to feel her pressed against me, burning against my skin.
"Yoko," I whispered, pushing one hand against her chest. Her eyes widened, and she pulled back sharply, embarrassed again.
"It's okay," I said. "There's just one thing…"
I pulled my arms one at a time out of the sleeves of my t-shirt, and then pulled it off over my head, dropping it on the floor.
Now we were even.
Yoko froze up again, her eyes growing even wider.
"Oh…" she mumbled, one arm moving almost subconsciously to cover her chest. I shook my head.
"Don't," I said softly, reaching forward and putting my hand on the arm that hid her breasts.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, shaking slightly. "I just…well, I wasn't expecting you to be so…"
She trailed off awkwardly, and I smiled.
"Perfect?"
She nodded.
"Hmm. Here," I said, taking hold of her hand and pulling it away from her chest, toward my own. She cringed slightly but made no move to stop me; gently, I settled her hand on my skin, the heel of it resting between my breasts.
"What does it feel like?"
"I…" she stuttered, obviously trying to keep her eyes on my face. "Soft…warm…feels like skin…"
"Pretty realistic, isn't it?" I said.
I let go of her hand; she didn't pull it away.
"It's a shame the rest of my body wasn't held to the same standard. Several teams of engineers designed everything about it; most of them were men, if you couldn't already tell. Everything was precisely calculated in accordance with their idea of generic beauty - its height, its measurements, the distance between its facial features. Once those basic blueprints were in place, it was easy enough to produce a few thousand copies of the thing and ship it out to users all across the country. It's really nothing special; if something happens to this body, I can replace it with one that's exactly the same. Thousands of people have seen me naked, and most of them have no idea who I am.
"You, on the other hand…"
I let my eyes wander her body, from her sharp, narrow eyes, full lips, and slightly crooked bottom teeth, to the little freckles and pockmarks that dotted her arms, and then further still to the soft curve of her stomach, down to the sharp angles of her hips.
"When you think about it, it's pretty amazing….that a man from China would come in contact with a woman from Japan, starting a sequence of events resulting in their genetic material being combined at precisely the right moment, spontaneously creating a new, completely unique body...A body that just grew to fit the ghost inside it, that nobody ever had to sit down and draw plans for, or improve; that's kept growing and changing to adapt to the needs of its user for nearly half a century now."
I took her hand in mine, and then brushed my lips across the back of it.
"I don't know what else to call that other than perfect."
The corners of her mouth twitched into a smile.
"That's awfully sentimental, coming from you…"
I slid my hand up her arm, pulling her in toward my body.
"I like to keep things interesting."
Her skin pressed smoothly against mine, soft and blazing hot. She'd wrapped her arms around my shoulders; her eyes were only centimeters away now, heavy-lidded and drawing closer and closer every second.
Time seemed to slow to a crawl. Just as it had happened that first night, we'd reached that bizarre point where she was relaxed and I was frozen in place.
After this moment, there would be no turning back. This wasn't going to be like the nights I spent with my girlfriends to distract myself; this was a physical commitment to possibly the last woman on earth I ever should have been sleeping with.
What disturbed me the most was just how much I wanted it. Wanted her.
Our lips met, and I could immediately tell that this was something she wanted very much as well.
Gradually, my mouth wandered away from hers, tracing a path across her cheek, down her neck, finally coming to rest at the hollow of her throat. My hands ran up and down her sides as I continued to explore her, the light contact making her gasp; she reacted even more strongly when I nipped gently at the hard ridge of her collarbone.
"Oh…!"
I pressed my cheek against her chest, listening to her harsh breathing combined with the steady thrumming of her pulse.
"Like that?" I whispered, my lips brushing against her skin.
"Mmm…"
I must have been doing something right; I'd never heard her so vocal before.
I wanted to hear more.
Her body sagged forward against mine; it was becoming awkward to try to hold her up. I slid my arms around her back and lowered her slowly down onto the mattress, and then settled myself overtop of her with most of my weight off to the side, one hand on either side of her shoulders.
"All right?" I murmured, my eyes fixed on hers. She nodded, and I leaned down to kiss her lightly.
"Remember to talk to me, okay?"
She nodded again.
Another kiss, this one long and lingering, against the curve of her shoulder; she closed her eyes and tilted her head to one side, her lips slightly parted. I followed the slope of her neck up to her pulse point again, dragging my teeth across the soft flesh, feeling her shudder beneath me. My left hand, planted firmly behind her head, supported the weight of my upper body; my right slid gently up over her ribs, curving around her breast.
"…nnnnh…"
The palm of my hand rounded itself over the gentle slope; I held it there, momentarily fascinated by the way her breasts flattened to almost nothing when she was down on her back.
She was panting heavily now, each breath hissing slowly between her teeth, asking for more. My mouth was still tight against her throat; gradually, I kissed my way down the length of her neck, down the soft valley between her breasts, finally resting my cheek against her stomach.
"Oh…" she gasped, shifting slightly underneath me. "Heavy…"
"Sorry," I whispered, raising my head to relieve some of the pressure. "Better?"
"Mmm…"
I smiled, kissing the ridge of her hip. "That's good…"
My hands slid down the length of her body, stopping just below her waist. I traced the contour of her hip very slowly with the tip of my tongue, just waiting for her to tell me to stop again; she'd already worked out what I had in mind, and it had made her tense again.
Sure enough, the moment I pressed my cheek against the inside of her thigh, I felt her hand close down on mine.
"Motoko…"
I disliked it even less the second time.
"Hmm?"
I raised my head, and our eyes met. She squeezed my hand, a nervous smile quirking the corners of her mouth.
"Link with me…"
There was a brief moment of awkward silence; I pushed myself up in order to look her in the eye more easily.
"I'm not going to be able to concentrate as well…what if I hurt you?"
"Then you'll feel it too and know to stop," she whispered, running her hand up my arm to my shoulder. "Don't worry about it."
Her eyes pleaded with me. I sighed, tracing the curve of her face with my fingertips.
"I'm going to disconnect if it becomes too much of a problem…."
"That's all right," she said. "Just try it…"
I reached around and drew a cable out from the back of my neck, and Yoko obligingly turned her head to the side, allowing me access. A soft shiver passed through her as I lifted her hair away from her neck.
"I just want you to know what this feels like…for me…"
I paused, and then kissed her briefly on the cheek.
"Thank you…"
Sharply, I pressed the connector into the corresponding port.
There was no waiting for her barrier this time; the moment I made the connection, I was in, sinking rapidly toward the center of her consciousness.
I lowered myself carefully onto the bed, letting my mind acclimate to the sensation of being inside two bodies at once. I'd controlled two remote prosthetics at the same time before, but this was different – I couldn't actually move the other body, and everything I did with my own just distracted me even more.
Too far down…needed to pull back…
I ran my fingers in slow circles over Yoko's arm as I moved around inside her head, searching for a balance where I could still feel her without completely incapacitating myself. As I shifted minutely over the fuzzy line between our ghosts, I wondered if anyone else had ever managed to do this before.
Probably not; the amount of mental dexterity required was causing even me to have some trouble keeping my head.
Sorry…do you want to stop?
Yoko's voice was so deep in my head that I couldn't even register it as speech.
No…just…I need a moment…
My hands roamed her body, testing the connection; finally, with all of the certainty of two interlocking pieces of a puzzle clicking into position, I found my spot.
Okay…feels all right there?
I didn't need to ask; her feelings of satisfaction had washed over me the moment I'd made myself comfortable. Gradually, I slid myself down to her waist again, my lips playing across the surface of her skin, each touch sending ripples of pleasure across my own body. I wanted to stop and drown in it, but I knew that I had to keep moving for both of us now.
My fingers skipped lightly across her hips, grazing the soft insides of her thighs; gently, I rested my head on her abdomen, just below her stomach. I could feel the weight of it, but she didn't seem to mind the pressure this time.
We took a deep breath, and then I began kissing my way very slowly downward…
Ahh…Major…
Funny, how that was still my name in her head.
Her hand found the back of my head, tightening in my hair; I gasped, trying to stay focused in spite of the sharpness of the contact.
…Yoko, please don't make me stop right now…
No…I…
My perception of her voice faded away; all I could feel was that word, arcing between our ghosts like an electrical current, enveloping me in warmth.
I had tried to push it away since the very instant the thought had first occurred to me, but the fact remained that I was here with her now, as close as it was possible to be with anyone.
She understood why I'd avoided it; in her gentle way, she had accepted it as just another aspect of her feelings for me.
I surged back across the link with a storm of my own emotions, pulling myself as close to her as I could without completely losing sight of my own body. If she wanted a new secret, I would give her one worth keeping.
It was becoming so much more difficult to hold on now, to keep moving…to keep pushing toward her ghost, sinking deeper and deeper down into her center…
She was so close, though…so very, very close…
Wanted to stay down inside her forever…wanted to see her face…
It took all of my will to draw back, to lift my body so that I was looking down at her again, my thumb sweeping in to nudge her those last few centimeters…
Her head arched suddenly back against the pillows, eyes squeezed tightly shut; an enormous gasp tore itself from her throat, and she lay back, panting heavily, her body completely limp.
I could still feel her heartbeat through the link, hammering furiously against the inside of my chest.
She opened her eyes slowly, and then reached out for my hand; I entwined my fingers with hers and lay down at her side, pulling her tightly against my body.
We lay together for a long time, still awake in the darkness, holding, touching, and occasionally kissing. The link between us was faint now but still active, vague thoughts passing between it now and then. In the past I'd always considered this kind of thing boring and indulgent, but now that I'd found someone whose company in this capacity I actually enjoyed, it was nice.
Besides, if ever I was with anyone who needed to be indulged…
Her head rested against my shoulder; her eyes were closed, but I could tell she was still awake. Gently, I smoothed the hair back from her face.
I thought of the memory I'd seen in her head, of the little girl who'd walked at her father's side so long ago, with no idea exactly how far her life was going to take her; with no idea how deeply she would be changed so soon after that moment.
The memory of the dull sensation of erasure, of the blankness of a new identity filled my mind, making me think of another little girl who'd gone through a similar, albeit much more drastic change at about the same age.
That child of beauty, still oblivious to the plain girl who loomed in her future.
"Hey, Yoko…"
She stirred softly, her head shifting against my arm.
"Mmm?"
"You told me a long time ago that your mother changed your name after your father died…what was it before that?"
Her eyes opened slowly, and she studied me for a few seconds before her lips spread into a smile.
"Yoko."
I blinked; she wrapped her arm around my back, her fingertips trailing lightly over my shoulder.
"It's like this…my legal name is written this way…"
She traced the characters against my skin:
よう子
"But when my father named me, he wrote it this way…"
楊子
"Willow Child?"
She nodded.
"After his favorite proverb: 'Willow trees never break beneath the weight of the snow.' My mother never liked how unusual the spelling was, though, so she changed it."
"That's a shame," I said softly. "It's pretty."
She nodded again, closing her eyes and tucking her head against my chest.
"I've tried to live up to it…"
Once again, the image of that girl drifted through my head, bright and cheerful; when I thought of everything she'd gone through between then and now, how far she'd bent and convoluted herself to survive, even in just the short time I'd known her, I was amazed that she'd made it for so long without snapping.
What was even more impressive was that so much of that girl had managed to stay with her.
I wanted to tell her this, but by the time I found the right words, she'd already fallen asleep.
Gently, I eased my arms around her waist; she shifted softly, pressing herself against my body. I lay still, listening to her breathing, relaxing into the rhythm of her pulse, slow and steady against my chest.
I thought of the bizarre, twisted path that had led both of us here to this moment; thought of how so many little things could have changed along the way, sending either of us in a completely different direction, and my arms tightened protectively around her.
In the end, all that mattered was that we'd made it here, and that she was with me, safe and alive and wanted.
I settled my head next to hers on the pillow and closed my eyes.
We would both still be here in the morning.
(A/N: And there you have it, three months later ;;; I honestly didn't expect to take quite this long, but we've been busy at work, and I had an anime convention to prepare for and attend. At least it's an insanely long chapter, and I hope it was worth the wait for everyone!
As for future projects, I have at least one more short Yoko story I want to try and get up, but after that, I think I'm going to take a little break from GitS for a while and try something new :D We'll see how it goes.
Once again, a huge THANK YOU! to all of my lovely readers - you guys keep me writing!)