27.
Sienna
Akiyama looked pretty gobsmacked when I walked up and called him by name. My words echoed through the building where we stood. Curiously, the signs of time’s wrath weren’t as obvious here as they were on the rest of the island. It was almost as though stepping into this building was like stepping back in time. The interior wasn’t exactly flawless, but it didn’t show nearly the weathering and decay that the exterior did; within these walls, the chairs, furniture, and other stuff were clean and untouched, decorating a functional, albeit slightly foreign (to me) outdated doctor’s waiting area.
Fury glowed in Akiyama’s eyes now, as the shock passed, and he jutted a hand at me, palm-first, from across the room. It looked violent, like he was lashing out at me, and by instinct alone I made a defensive move, as though trying to block him.
It wasn’t necessary; nothing happened. He looked at me, not a hint of recognition in his eyes, then muttered something in Japanese that carried a hint of self-satisfaction as I stood there, staring at him.
“I don’t speak Japanese,” I said, and he nearly jumped in surprise. “Kat does, but you kinda froze her, so—”
He thrust his hand at me again, barking something unintelligible, his face pinched into a hard scowl. His black hair was cropped short, but a little whorl threatened to cover the middle of his forehead, swaying as he pushed that hand at me again. I got it this time, his hand motion, and nodded. “Ohhh,” I said, “you’re trying to freeze me in time, like the others. I don’t think that’s going to work.”
His mouth fell slightly open, and he started to speak. It came out a) Japanese, and b) very scratchy, and he seemed to realize this after a second, because he stopped, cleared his throat, covering his mouth to do so (so polite), and then said, “Who are you?”
“I already told you,” I said, “I’m Sienna Nealon.”
He cocked his head at me. “Who?”
My shoulders sagged. “Famous the world over except for right freaking here, of course, where it would be needed most.” I tapped myself in the middle of the breastbone. “Sienna Nealon. Sienna.” His eyes were blank, devoid of recognition. “Superhero? Pain in the ass? … Nothing?” I looked around, searching for a way to break through this introduction business, and a fragment of our first conversation—well, my first, anyway—came back to me. I sighed, looked at the carpet—which was really worn, much older looking than the rest of the room—and raised my head again. “Sienna Nealon. The girl in the box.”
That got him to drop some of the hostility and aggressive lack of understanding. “You … are the girl in the box?”
Yeah. Figures that’d get through. “I have been so-called … by others,” I said. “Long story. Listen … we need to talk.”
“You … have time powers?” He suddenly seemed a lot more solicitous. Calmer now, as though he were now curious about me rather than enraged.
“Ah, no …” I said, “… at least not any I can control.” I frowned. “Or I didn’t, before. But now, suddenly I’m able to stand fast in the middle of these sudden time freezes, and it just sorta flows around me so—I dunno. I guess I have time powers now , though I have no idea how I got them—”
“You cannot … speed things up?” Akiyama asked, staring at me with that suspicion again. “Slow them down?”
“I … don’t think so?” I asked, though now I was not entirely sure of anything. I’d just assumed that these time freezes were happening independent of me and were somehow related to our destined meeting. “I’ve never controlled time before.”
He nodded, once. “This makes sense. I have not felt you make adjustments to the flow of time.”
“And you would have, wouldn’t you?” I asked. “Because you knew when Weissman did.”
His face got stony. “Weissman. That is a name I have not heard in some time. Nor have I felt his touch upon the turning wheel of time.”
“You wouldn’t,” I said, “because he’s dead.”
Akiyama cocked his head. “You were … a friend of his?”
“Ugh, God no,” I said, almost ready to spit. “I hated that bastard. I would have killed him myself if I could have managed it, but … my mother did instead.”
Akiyama’s eyebrow raised. “Your mother … possessed the power to control the flow of time?”
“No,” I said, wondering how lightly I should tapdance around the word “succubus” given how universally reviled we’d been among old-school metas. “She was … something else.”
A cloud settled over his face. “Then how did she defeat Weissman?”
Here’s where we were going to hit the first sticky wicket. “Uhm … you helped her do so. I’m not sure how, but I think you suspended his powers around her.”
Akiyama stared at me, and I wondered if he was going to bust out with, “I did not!” or some similar denial that I was going to have to argue through. Credit to him, though, he didn’t. “Did I indeed?” he asked, still suspicious, but not flatly arguing against it. “I find this …”
“Unlikely? Impossible?” I suggested. “Because that’s kinda how I felt about it when you came to me in St. Paul seven years ago and said we’d met before—even though I didn’t remember it. You said a lot of things I couldn’t reconcile at the time—you called me ‘the Girl in the Box,’ explained the concept of hakoiri musume , knew things about me that you shouldn’t have, told me about Nagasaki and St. Paul being sister cities—that one’s never won me a Trivial Pursuit game yet, but maybe someday—and you helped my mom kill Weissman and save my life.” I blinked a few times after spitting all that out. “Oh, and you gave me a bonsai, though it was tragically lost in one of a series of innumerable explosions that seem to follow me around like a dog following someone with bacon in their pocket. Still, nice gesture, and I didn’t kill it myself, so …”
I had a feeling that I’d just tried to force-feed Akiyama information through a firehose. I settled back, waiting to see what he might need clarification on—or if I was going to have to repeat the whole thing again—but he just watched me with his dark eyes, thinking it all through.
Finally, he said, “It could be as you say, though I do not see how from here.”
“It’s pretty simple,” I said, folding my arms in front of me. “You told me at the time that I perform some great act of service for you here.” I looked around the waiting room, trying to figure out what exactly I could do to help this guy. “And that puts you in my debt. So …” I looked at him. “Whaddya need?”
Akiyama surveyed me with a wary eye, a very peculiar change over his somewhat skeptical curiosity from a moment before. I stood there, trying to be as lacking expression as him, but failing, as I waited for him to process my question and deliver me an answer so we could go on about the business of trading favors and saving the world.
“I … am fine,” Akiyama finally said, and then turned away from me, his suit jacket swishing in the wind caused by his abrupt move.
“Uhhhh … all evidence to the contrary there, chief,” I said, watching him start to walk away. There were a few potential exits from this retro waiting room, and he seemed to be heading down a long hallway.
“I only wish to be left alone,” Akiyama said, turning back to me, standing tall in the hallway, framed by the shadowy dark of this place and its selective lack of electricity. The hallway in front of him was lit, but not until about a hundred yards ahead, and the waiting room we were in was illuminated by a single fixture. Clearly someone had not been performing scheduled maintenance on the space between, cuz the hallway was riddled with holes while the waiting area still looked A-plus, if a bit retro.
“I know the feeling,” I said, taking a step closer, intending to follow after him. “Me, I was just chilling on the Oregon Coast, living life to the full, if you know what I mean …” No one knew what I meant because that was a lie. The only way I could be defined as ‘living life to the full’ would be if you considered long, languid days broken by infrequent sexual activity and occasionally lovey-doveyness with Harry to blunt the monotony as ‘living.’ I mean, don’t get me wrong, those parts were kinda fun, and our conversations were decent, but everything else …
God, I was bored. And emotionally … uneven, due to recent past events.
None of this needed to be said to the solemn Japanese fellow in front of me, though. “The point is,” I said, trying to get myself back on track as he frowned at me, lightly, “I don’t want to be here, you don’t want me here—that’s cool. Our desires are closely matched in this case. And I’d love to leave, but—and this is a big but, we’re talking pro-wrestler-in-a-way-too-tight-unitard style butt here—time’s coming unhinged out there.” I delivered this last bit with as little accusation as I could.
Akiyama took it in what appeared to be stride. “That is unfortunate … but not my problem.” And he turned to leave again, down the dark hallway toward the light at the end of it.
“I think,” I said, turning on the meta speed and cutting in front of him, which caused his eye to twitch at me, “that it’s not only your problem, but that whatever’s going on out there—time suddenly speeding up and slowing down and stopping, and catching and—anyway, it’s a real mess—I think it’s the sort of thing that affects the whole world. And that the point of origin is …” And I waved my hands all about like the Hokey Pokey and then pointed one finger at him, like I was narrowing it down for all involved. “Yeah.”
He possessed legendary restraint. His face moved maybe a millimeter in response to my accusation, then was still once more. I wouldn’t have wanted to put any money into a Texas Hold ‘Em game with him. Way to live up to that stereotype about Asian inscrutability, Akiyama. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“Dude,” I said, closing my eyes, “there’s literally no one else who can control time at this point. Passing the buck is not going to work.”
“I don’t know what you just said,” Akiyama replied, “but I wish you a good day. I will let your friends go from their current … position.” They were positioned, all right. Like dolls, waiting for someone to come play with them.
Note to self: referring to your boyfriend as a ‘doll waiting to be played with’ … sounds really awkward and also reeks of Wolfe-ishness.
Argh. Still hurts to think about.
“That doesn’t do me any good if time goes flying off its axle and comes to rest forever, does it?” I asked as Akiyama continued his slow-mo storm-off. Okay, so less a storm-off and more of a calm walk-off. Why couldn’t I ever manage one of those?
Oh, right. Emotional restraint. This dude had the brakes on his feelings, big time.
Akiyama did not turn back to me, and I was left with the distinct feeling that he wasn’t going to be swayed, at least not now, not even if I managed to run around in front of him—which I totally could have, given his slow, sweeping pace. His suit was ultra-outdated. I began to wonder what it’d take to wake his ass up to the peril, and it occurred to me that maybe I needed to do the unsubtle American thing and just say it.
“Time is ending in two days,” I said, and Akiyama slowed his pace of retreat a little. “My boyfriend—er, the guy with me—he’s sorta my boyfriend, I guess? Or a guy friend? Guy who’s more than a friend—you know what, it doesn’t matter right now. The point is, he’s a Cassandra. You know what that is?”
Akiyama turned slowly. “He sees the future.”
“Normally, yeah,” I said. “But right now he just sees the big freeze looming, where everything stops for good. No future beyond that, because we never come out of that last moment. Time ends, the wheel off the axle, laying flat on the road, spinning no more.” So poetic … and stupid. Way to go, Sienna. “It’s coming, okay? And given what’s happened so far when time stops, I’m going to either starve to death or die of boredom because I’m fresh out of conversation and bad guys to chase and … everything else.” I sagged. “Look, this is fated. You have a problem, I’m the problem solver. So come on, Shin’ichi … let’s get to it already.”
He just stared me down, and I could see the gears turning behind his eyes. “I am sorry you have come this far for nothing.” And he bowed to me, like that was that, and turned away again.
And even though he didn’t actually say the word NO, I heard it in every syllable of what he did say, the politest refusal, as the only guy on the planet who could help stop this cataclysmic shitshow just strode right off like nothing I’d just said mattered one damned bit.