Archive of Our Own

When Ryoshu joined Yurodivy, she knew that she would get in trouble with authorities.

No Wing would stand a bunch of rebels in its heart, especially not as conservative as T Corp. They had to change their locations, codes, and goals almost every week, trying to keep timecollectors off their trail. Annoying and cowardly tactic, but Ryoshu follows it, because while she has a chance to go against two or three timecollectors, her own allies are borderline useless against anyone more capable than a greedy moneybag, and become a deadweight whenever real conflict rises.

But even with all these safety measures, she knew that being found by T Corp is only a matter of time, which this corporation has in abundance. So, she expected a raid, expected an unfair brawl, and expected herself to be left as a statue on the street, for sweepers to turn in fuel.

What she didn't expect was for a Timecollector to push her into the wall and straight-up lie to her own colleagues.

"There is no one here!" The person in armor yells loudly in a high-pitched voice, pinning Ryoshu to the brick with a surprising amount of strength, "Methinketh they hath spied our coming and fled! Thou shouldst survey the surroundings for any vestiges of their departure. I shall conclude the gathering of evidances by myself!"

Ryoshu pierces this person with her glare, but unfortunately, she can't see any reaction through a metal helmet. The door on the first-floor slams, but the Timecollector doesn't move the first few seconds.

"Clear." A hand that almost crushed her shoulder finally retrieves. "Thou hast fourteen minutes to leave this place."

Ryoshu squints at the Timecollector, who frantically looks around the half-broken lair. They got an alert from lookouts just a few minutes before Timecollectors entered their street, and most of Yurodivy ran away, only Ryoshu staying behind to clear some stuff. Unfortunately, they stayed on this spot for a pretty long time, leaving a lot of evidence, and this Timecollector entered the room only when Ryoshu was two-thirds of the way through the list. Ryoshu doesn't really care about other Yurodivy, but her heart skips a beat when the Timecollector snatches inventions from the table. She gets ready for one more, hopeless fight when the woman drops it on the floor and steps on it deliberately, turning dangerous evidence into a piece of trash. Another one is thrown in the wall, and the next is hit with the blunt part of the pickax.

"Thou mayest take yon small ones on a table," she says in a muffled voice, continuing to sabotage her job, "and ‘tis one. I think our experts would be able to comprehend what it was even from mere remnants."

Ryoshu doesn't move, doesn't take offered objects, and her hand is still lying on her weapon. Is this a trap? Did she put a bug on one of the inventions?

The Timecollector, already finished with part of the destruction, raises her head, and while it is still covered with a helmet, Ryoshu can read that slight annoyance in the woman's figure. She's surprisingly expressive for a suit of armor.

"We dost not have time for that. Thou dost not have time for that." She scolds Ryoshu, sounding awfully annoyed for a person who didn't give any reasons to trust her.

"It's a trap."

"Dost thou truly possess the power to forgo this chance?"

Ryoshu frowns. "If you think your threat would work, I have bad news for you, T.K."

"No, no. It's not a threat. Prithee, trust that I harbor no intent to harm thee, yet mine fellows deem differently."

"So, you're a traitor," Ryoshu comes to a conclusion and slowly goes to the table, still keeping a government employee in her sight.

"Do not call me that." A surprisingly sharp edge appears in her tone, full of outrage toward a word Ryoshu chose. "'Tis not an act of treachery."

"N.H.I.L.L." The situation feels too intriguing to let go easily, so despite the Timecollector being her only chance to escape, Ryoshu can’t help but push her buttons while picking inventions off the table.

She won't bring them directly to a safe spot until she's sure they're clean. But not having them in the Corp's hands would give Yurodivy enough advantage not to lose ground inside the district.

"I merely ensure that T Corp shall not make mistakes that it will lament." The Timecollector answers, and Ryoshu wants to laugh.

What strange words, coming from a corporation enforcer. It makes Ryoshu believe her because no one would say such a dumb lie.

"Hurry up, they art nearly complete," the Timecollector declares suddenly, perhaps getting a message from her colleagues through inner comms.

Ryoshu doesn't waste breath answering, looking around for the last time just to make sure that nothing here would bring danger to Yurodivy.

"Your team hath fled without loss," the Timecollector informs as if Ryoshu cares.

"I have everything I need. Do you want me to relay anything to the boss?" She adds last part to her own surprise.

"Verily, I dost wish none to be privy to that which hath transpired," the woman says as if she didn't try to convince Ryoshu her actions aren't treason, moments ago. It's a peculiar paradox that puts questions in Ryoshu’s head, but her time slips through her fingers, and with the number of hours for the acceleration that timecollectors have, she will need this head start to get out safely.

As if the same thought comes to the traitorous Timecollector's mind, she removes her metallic glove, extending a pale hand toward Ryoshu. "If thou require further time, thou mayst seize it."

Ryoshu looks at this hand for a few seconds, feeling suspicion rise in her chest once again. Letting her escape is one thing, but giving her time... It's not something even Yurodivy do within their ranks carelessly. For civilians, it is normal, a few hours there, a few hours here, but for people who had to fight within borders of the district, managing their time is a crucial task for surviving, and seeing the Timecollector offer Ryoshu it so easily feels simply wrong. And yet it's also horribly tempting. Even with her perfect timing and technique, Ryoshu lost whole minutes in her fights for Yurodivy. Not enough for it to affect her capabilities or be noticed with the naked eye, but she feels it. Disgusting sluggishness haunting her every swing, her every movement. A few-second lag that robs her strikes of graceful certainty, making her feel like an amateur once again.

Ryoshu grasps an extended hand, throwing away all doubts. The skin under her palm is warm and a bit callused, but Ryoshu doesn't have an opportunity to think about it, with another person's time flowing into her. It feels near to divine to finally regain her tempo, feeling her heartbeat being just right. The Timecollector is generous or too fucking rich, freely giving her hours that would help her keep her time for weeks, and Ryoshu has to be one to break handholding first, not to take too much from her.

A helmet tilts a bit as if the person under it is confused with Ryoshu’s self-restraint, but she doesn’t feel a need to explain herself or thank this person, turning away without any words. She hears a metal rattling behind, a gauntlet shifting back to cover the arm, or the Timecollector taking a step back. She doesn’t look back.

Her movements are sharp and fast when she flies out of the window. To avoid anyone noticing her fall, Ryoshu burns a surplus of time, crossing the distance between the building and the nearest nook in seconds. Using time feels fascinating even if, without the habit, Ryoshu has to let leftover inertia drag her for a few steps. She hits a wall with a light bump, and all the metal in her hands clatters, but fortunately there is no one to hear this noise.

Ryoshu does not bother to look back concentrating on her next step. Yurodivy had a plan for a situation like this. Most of the members can get to the safe place with underground tunnels, but Ryoshu can’t do it before she figures out if there any bugs on her. So, she needs to find a place to hide everything and then somehow send a message that she didn’t get caught.

It will be a long day.

_____

It takes a week after the raid to get everything together on a new place.

No one in Yurodivy asks questions about how Ryoshu managed to escape unscared when she joins them a few days later with the numerous unfinished researches safe in her hands. Her reputation ensures.

Yurodivy’s escape was almost perfect, and for some reason Timecollectors lost their lead completely, leaving them in peace. Everything goes fine, too fine actually, and that makes a lot of people paranoid, including Hong Lu. He hesitates to give her any jobs, worrying about getting Timecollectors' attention back.

This prolonged idleness makes Ryoshu even more easily irritated, which forces other Yurodivy to go around her in large arcs and sell her cigarettes for half of the price.

When Hong Lu gives her a new name and a new target, she barely has enough patience to hear about the mission before leaving base.

Honestly there was nothing to listen, all these fuckers are almost the same. Once again, there is a big fat cat, avoiding taxes by stealing time from his employees, committing financial frauds, and being ignored by authorities because a big part of his profit goes into their pockets.

She goes to his house, ambushing in the shadow of another building, and this anticipation already feels better than the week of waiting before. It's close to the evening in the district. Sepia colors are slowly fading around her, her target being late from work. She wouldn't mind attacking him right in front of his office, but Hong Lu was very clear about keeping things under that radar and keeping innocent workers out of suspicion.

So Ryoshu sits there waiting, smoking cigarettes one after another, when suddenly she notices a figure walking not just down the street but directly to the target’s house. Instantly, Ryoshu feels a rush of excitement and grips her weapon, but she manages to catch herself when she sees that the person is vividly not the owner of the house. It's a fast-walking short woman with blonde hair that seemed bright even under the sepia of the T district. But more importantly she is wearing the Timecollector uniform.

Ryoshu frowns, trying not to stare. This guy’s crimes are too small of a problem for T Corp to notice and even send anyone. She is not supposed to be here, especially on the same day Ryoshu went after him. Did someone leak her target? Is this Timecollector coming after her? Ryoshu feels a tingle of interest, imagining herself in a fight with corporation employees. Last time, the Timecollector had an insane luck to counter her attack. Ryoshu won’t give a chance to this one.

But the Timecollector doesn't seem to bother with surroundings, knocking on the door and declaring something until it becomes painfully obvious that the owner is not here. This understanding takes her a whole ten minutes, after which she stares at the door like she is planning to knock it down before going away from the porch. But instead of leaving the Timecollector starts to stroll in front of the entrance like an agitated guard dog. It's an amusing sight even if the situation becomes a bit inconvenient. Well, if she’s actually there for Ryoshu, she now has an obvious advantage being unnoticed. And if not, she could attack him after the Timecollector is done with her stuff. In any way, she just needs to show a bit more patience.

They both wait for the owner, one hiding and one in sight. Ryoshu has to put a cigarette down not to bring attention to herself with constant smoke, which makes waiting even more tiresome. Rare people still returning to homes notice the Timecollector circling around and go another way, showing that even law-abiding citizens prefer not to cross their paths with Corporation’s forces.

Ryoshu sees target first when he finally comes. The usual brownness of the district is already sinking in dusk and a figure walks fast, nervously looking around, as he feels himself being hunted. But he does not notice her, the Timekeeper at his doors taking most of his attention, forcing him to halt on a spot.

A man makes a slow step back, but as if sensing his presence, the Timecollector turns her head sharply in his direction. Three of them stay frozen for a second, not sure how the situation will continue, and then the Timecollector turns her body to him in silence, moving slow enough someone could wonder if she’s in time-debt. Suddenly she looks less like a bored mongrel and more like a hound ready to pounce on its prey. But with a blink her attitude softens, and from a distance Ryoshu can see a flash of a smile, a bit too wide to be sincere.

Despite the weirdness of this meeting and Timecollector’s momentary fierce appearance, Ryoshu expects the businessman to burst into a formal greeting and awkward politeness with the enforcer, which maybe will be followed by a long conversation that will lead them both into the building. She throws a fast glance at the wall of the house, trying to estimate where she could hide and listen.

What she doesn't expect is that the second the Timecollector makes a step closer, the businessman immediately accelerates his time and starts to sprint away in a blurred line, and the Timecollector runs after him without wasting time or breath on yelling warnings like they usually do. Even more surprising, the Timecollector somehow doesn’t catch with him instantly.

Ryoshu sees how fast he goes, and perhaps he stole more than Yurodivy was informed. But she doesn't let these thoughts settle and runs. Not straight after the target, the Timecollector successfully does it by herself, and Ryoshu isn’t that rich to waste her hours on an open race. Instead, she goes down the other alley rapidly, remembering the map of these streets, thinking about where he could try to go. He couldn’t go to the center, being chased by Timecollector, nor to the backstreets if he wanted to survive. But she remembers Hong Lu mentioning abandoned plants on the west that he so ruthlessly closed and then bought out. It could be a good place for hiding.

It's a late evening, almost night, everyone is already hidden in their homes, so there are no one to stop Ryoshu from crossing the other people's property, with every shortcut lessening the distance between herself and chase.

Ryoshu counts four long buildings before a needed passage appears in front of her eyes, and in the rush of the hunt she can’t help but grasp a few minutes from next week to sharply turn left on the crossroad, jumping out on the bigger street right under the dull light of the lamp.

The target is already there, proving that stealing years from under the corporation's nose required at least a bit of intelligence, spending time like there is no tomorrow with the Timecollector on his heels, who, despite rationing her own hours, follows him like a shadow.

Realization hits. It’s not a question of can and cannot. The Timecollector doesn’t want to catch up with him. She was planning to wear him down and make him waste time, or perhaps even to herd him to his territory and add a few more accusations with what would happen here. But it no longer matters.

Ryoshu throws herself right in front of him, or more correctly, she makes a single deliberate step, and he appears in her way, not used to moving or reacting in accelerated time, and as she can assume from a glimpse of panic on his face, having no idea how to avoid unexpected obstacles without losing speed. But before a crash, that could turn her into a darkish brown mess on the road, can happen, Ryoshu swings her arm, and her weapon connects with his face in full force.

There is no blood, no sound of broken bones, or cries of pain. The weapon in her hands is not meant to bring physical harm, yet the horror appearing on his face when time leaves him is a delightful sight by itself. It’s an agony written only in eyes, when even the face cannot form a proper expression.

He stands there as a statue, still running desperately, but now so slowed down it is impossible to notice his attempts at movement with a naked eye. It will take six hours for his body to collapse not being able to counter dissonance on his speed and environment’s. If he won’t get help, of course.

The Timecollector loses her speed too, but not so drastically, at first jogging, walking, and then stopping a few meters away from Ryoshu and their mutual victim, not sure what to do.

"Verily, 'tis a most awkward plight," she notices, surprisingly cheerful for a Timecollector who witnessed citizen-on-citizen crime right in front of her.

Ryoshu turns to the woman fully, not feeling like showing her back. She prepared herself for the attack and not conversation, but the Timecollector stood away, hiding her hands in pockets as if trying to look as less dangerous as possible to Ryoshu. She doesn't seem moved by another person using a time-reducing weapon, barely giving their target a glance before looking at Ryoshu again, without any sign of antagonism or worry. Now closer, she looks even shorter, and the tall top hat doesn't help, but it pales to get proper attention from Ryoshu in comparison with the brightness of her eyes, which almost broke through the sepia filter. They are yellow but look like dried buttercups, where you can tell that part of the saturation drained away over time. Once again Ryoshu feels a dull hate toward the district and their taxation on the color. Well, at least she can’t blame them for underestimating the importance of the hue.

Despite the prolonged silence settling on the street, the Timecollector doesn't say anything, giving Ryoshu an opportunity to steer the conversation. Or forcing her to start one. It shows a surprising amount of patience for a person who almost broke down the door when no one opened. But maybe she has more patience for Ryoshu than this man.

"Good evening, Timecollector," she greets the enforcer, deciding on her excuse. “I saw your pursuit and decided to help with a citizen arrest," Ryoshu tries to say in her most polite tone, and the Timecollector bursts into loud laughter.

"No, thou art not," she answers after a few desperate attempts to calm down laughter, all this dangerous threatening, with which she followed their target, gone. Her voice is bright and loud and strangely familiar.

Ryoshu frowns. Is that manner of speech now obligatory for timecollectors?

"That would look better in your report." She notices with a convincing twirl of wrench in her hand.

"What report, o concerned citizen?"

"You're not here to arrest him?"

"Well, not officially."

Conversation starts to have lesser and lesser sense, causing Ryoshu a weird sense of déjà vu.

"W.D.T.M?"

"We have received tidings of errors in his reckonings,” the Timecollector starts to explain, “Yet none doth warrant T Corp to summon a Timecollector in pursuit of him."

"So, you're here on your own volition." Concludes Ryoshu casually.

The Timecollector tilts her head on a side as if surprised with that thought. "Thou could call it extra hours."

Something in this movement hits Ryoshu like a brick, and suspicion creeps into her mind, forcing her to look at this woman from a new angle. It cannot be. That would be too much of a coincidence. But despite all the doubt, Ryoshu starts walking forward.

Not so fast it could be read as an attack, but the Timecollector shifts a bit anyway, hands still in her pockets, perhaps clutching her watch, but before she can say anything, Ryoshu raises a hand and covers her mouth.

The Timecollector blinks but doesn't seem offended by such audacity. "What is the point of this?" She asks, muffled, and even if Ryoshu's hand doesn't mute sound in a way a metal helmet does, the similarity is startling.

"I guess it helps to ease your consciousness after betrayal," she murmurs quietly into the woman's face and then steps back. The sensation of another person’s hot breath still lingers to her palm.

"These twain decisions of mine art bound solely by a desire for the utmost good for T Corp." She keeps her voice polite, but the tone becomes a few degrees colder, making Ryoshu raise an eyebrow in curiosity.

The Timecollector looks at her annoyed, but without her armor it appears way less impressive, making Ryoshu think even more about how their fight would turn out now.

"I.T.S? Or you placed a bug on me after all?" Ryoshu doesn't really suspect her of anything, with the woman seeming too sincere to be trusted with such tasks by the corporation.

"Dost thou perceive no middle realm between the traitor of the corporation and it’s spy?" she asks dryly. "The sole cause of our fateful meeting lies in our shared pursuit of one noble aim."

Ryoshu waves her shoulder toward the human statue. "Him?"

"The Justice," the Timecollector looks at her disappointed.

Ryoshu looks back with an empty expression. If she had any doubt if it was the same Timecollector, they just disappeared. There is enough space in the district only for one fool like that.

" It's merely an order from my boss. I couldn't care less about justice." She adds, annoyed with the idea that someone would think that there is any double meaning behind her art.

"Doth it matter if thou still bringest it?" asks the Timecollector calmly, and without waiting for an answer, starts to move. She walks beside Ryoshu to their victim, and then without any hesitation goes through his pockets.

"So, what's next?" Ryoshu breaks a silence, tired of observing how the Timecollector does her job.

The Timecollector shrugs her shoulders, taking out a key out of his pocket. "I shall search his house and file a missing person report."

"It would be difficult to do so with all the cameras around." Ryoshu murmurs, observing the woman's actions.

She doesn't really care about what happens next. Being known to the law has never scared her, and if she wanted, she could leave, letting the Timecollector deal with all the mess. But inside her mind, there is a light spark of curiosity, making her stay and try to stretch a conversation just a bit longer.

"Nay, not whilst 'tis within my grasp." Heartily corrects her the Timecollector, without looking.

Ryoshu raises her eyebrows, even more intrigued. "Seriously? F.U.C?

The Timecollector throws a strange glance before starting to talk. "Verily, there lies a cause why thou still walk freely despite performances in front of cameras, doesn't it?" She answers in a coy tone.

It takes a second for Ryoshu to comprehend what the Timecollector just implied. Suddenly the annoyingly fast loss on their first meeting makes sense. If Timecollector had already seen Ryoshu in action, of course she could parry her style on a flight. And how she trusted Ryoshu to successfully get out of there. She feels both paranoid and strangely pleased from a thought of Timecollector studding her.

Mostly pleased, to her lack of surprise. Now when she’s aware of her knowledge, the Timecollector won’t be able to get a victory out of her so easily anymore.

"Sounds a lot like stalking," Ryoshu notices with provocative calmness, staring at the woman's concentrated expression.

And gets rewarded with a twitch of the face, which the Timecollector rapidly halts, bringing back a smile, and the only sign of irritation left is fingers almost tearing apart the victim’s suit. It’s such a fast change that Ryoshu would have missed it if she had not paid her full attention to the person in front. Suddenly a foolishly wide smile seems a lot more interesting.

"What can I say, Lady Ryoshu?" The Timecollector exhales softly as if letting go of the last bits of her anger. "It's hard to turn mine eyes from thee." She deflects with cheerful teasing, turning the accusation into a joke.

Then without skipping a beat, her eyes go back to the frozen body, as if running through a tax evader’s pockets as an experienced robber is more interesting than having a conversation with Ryoshu. Which, of course, is obviously not true with how much attention she paid to Ryoshu through cameras.

Whatever. If she doesn’t want to talk Ryoshu figures everything out herself.

Time passes, and the woman in front of her continues the investigation, steadily moving to the end. A few more minutes and she will be gone.

"Now it's absolutely unfair." Ryoshu notices with a dramatic sigh.

“Oh?” The woman hums, intrigued by her change of tone.

The Timecollector’s voice stays calm, playful even, when she walks near Ryoshu, not threatening but simply reminding of a threat.

"How so?"

"You know my name while I don't know yours." Ryoshu says, staring into light eyes with a challenge.

"That's truly unfair," she agrees, nodding seriously before her hand rises up, catching a tilt of her hat. "Allowth me to fix it! I am Don Quixote, a Timecollector of the third level!" She finishes her introduction with a deep bow, pressing her hat to her chest.

The awfully theatrical nature of her introduction does not impress Ryoshu, but she appreciates a name. It's not enough to fix a vast difference in their knowledge about each other, but it's a good start. And while her curiosity isn’t sated Ryoshu doesn’t want to show interest by asking questions, so she takes a step away, waving her hand toward the cleared way for Don Quixote, acting less dramatic but still with a flair.

The Timecollector doesn't say anything, only tilting her hat in gratitude, before quickly leaving the street, her slowly dying target, and Ryoshu behind her back. Ryoshu frowns, glancing at the statue frozen in air, and with a deliberate kick sends it down. For a second, she thinks about signaling something toward the camera to have her last word in this strange conversation until Don Quixote’s next act of disloyalty. But it feels almost childish, so Ryoshu simply walks the other way.

_____

Over the next few weeks, Ryoshu spends collecting intel.

A single name turns into hundreds of opinions and rumors.

Don Quixote, as it turns out, is a bit of a celebrity or, more precisely, a small legend that a lot of people are not sure actually exists. Ryoshu can't blame them because a justice-seeking Timecollector is a wild concept in itself, and the bizarreness of Don Quixote’s behavior doesn’t make her more believable.

No one is sure where she’s come from, settling only on her not being native to the T district, but any attempts to figure out where exactly she was born were broken apart by bizarre habits that didn’t suit any Wing in the City.

Don Quixote also, despite a lot of similarities in vision, doesn't have any connection to Yurodivy, besides Ryoshu, or at least she has settled on believing Hong Lu's words, if you could, of course, take his usual aloofness and subtlety as an answer. It was a long horribly vague dialogue that almost made her hit the leader with a wrench. A normal one.

And yet Don Quixote doesn't like arresting members of Yurodivy or confronting them, however Ryoshu concludes it is mostly because most of them fall under the less fortunate part of district residents, and she considers it her responsibility to protect them. Once again, a strange decision for a Timecollector, making her wonder how the hell Don Quixote not only became one but also got steady promotions.

Collecting intel becomes a good way to spend time in-between missions, keeping Ryoshu from destructive boredom. But it’s not the only change in her routine that resulted from meeting with Don Quixote. She also avoids cameras, trying to change the balance of their knowledge about each other. She never really thought about the amount of surveillance installed around the district before and the way people on the other side of the lens could learn. Sometimes the corporation tried to extend it on backstreets territory, but opportunists broke down state property for their inventions in days every single time. If this system actually worked, that would give their willingness to waste money another explanation other than the tax evasion.

However, Ryoshu doesn’t have such a frilly way to spy on people, so she has to do everything the classic way. And after a few weeks of researching and interrogating, she feels confident in her database, or more precisely in the fact that she drained all her sources and won’t be able to find more information, and decides it's a good point to meet Don Quixote on her own conditions.

Finding an address of a single Timecollector usually is a difficult task, because the corporation likes to protect their assets and gives them communal living quarters as if they are an army. But Don Quixote not only chooses to leave the dormitory, she also shares her address freely with people she wants to help, and it takes a few days to find a person who didn’t throw a note away. Her flat is further away from T Corp headquarters than that of a regular Feather, but still close to the dangerous part on the edge of the center. Well, dangerous for members of Yurodivy.

Ryoshu still breaks in easily, using her old wrench to crack open the glass in the window. She waits a few seconds for the signalization to start roaring, but everything stays silent, showing again the owner’s absolute lack of fear.

When Ryoshu enters the room, she can see why. Don Quixote’s home is surprisingly modest and practical, a small area with only one room, a kitchen and a bathroom. The only sign of indulgence is the stocks of Fixer journals crowding most of the free space in a single living room. Nothing that would be worth stealing.

But the collection is obviously the dearest of Don Quixote’s possessions, so after taking a small tour around the plain flat, Ryoshu despite a lack of interest toward glorified mercenaries, takes a few and falls on the sofa scrolling through them to pass the time.

Ryoshu goes through three journals, when she hears footsteps outside stopping in front of the main door. Sparks of anticipation run down her skin, but Ryoshu doesn't move, continuing to casually lie on her sofa, pretending to be more interested in an interview of Cinq Director, than in Don Quixote finally returning home.

A key clicks, and Ryoshu hears the door opening and someone stepping in before freezing on the doorstep, surprised with the new, extremely audacious company in her flat. Ryoshu doesn't look at her, merely turning an unfinished page in the magazine. After a few minutes of staring, she hears a weak chuckle and finally the door getting closed. And that's when Ryoshu puts the magazine back on the stack.

"Aw, don't mind me," Don Quixote smiles, putting away her hat and upper part of her uniform, looking suddenly less ridiculous in just a plain white shirt. It’s an interesting progression from armor to suit to the shirt, but Ryoshu tries not to think about how Don Quixote would look if it continues. "It's a really good issue. Thou should finish it," she says casually.

"If it's a G.O., I am afraid to touch others," Ryoshu grumbles, not even lying.

"How rude," she hears a louder laugh from another room, the kitchen, Ryoshu figures, remembering her short tour around the flat.

Then Don Quixote comes out with two cups, and Ryoshu understands that the first thing that the Timecollector did after finding a member of a notorious criminal organization in her apartment was make tea for her. And after a few more seconds, Ryoshu understands that she isn't even worried about it being spiked.

Don Quixote doesn’t chase her away from the sofa, taking an old armchair on the other side of the table. It creaks under her weight quietly, "Pray tell, what dost I owe for this most wondrous visitation?" she asks in her usual cheerful voice.

Ryoshu slowly sits up, turning to the Don Quixote properly. The cup in front of her looks surprisingly optimistic, with a sporadic pattern and bright contrasts, a few tones darker than the one in Don Quixote's hands.

It’s impossible to tell if they are expensive goods from outside the border of the district that actually have two different colors or if the maker is used to the tone filter and simply used different shades of brown.

Ryoshu takes a sip, and hot, just-from-the-kettle tea burns her mouth. Don Quixote seems to have a few more luxuries than just her Fixer magazines.

"What do you think I am here for?" She doesn't reply directly, searching for Don Quixote’s reaction. She looks weirdly relaxed outside of her uniform, but her eyes brighten up at Ryoshu's question, as if she had been waiting for it. She stares back at her, and for the first time since their meeting, Ryoshu sees Don Quixote studying her without any attempts to hide.

"I recall not a deed that might compel Yurodivy to dispatch an executioner for mine head," she says so calmly, as if the idea of Ryoshu going after her life is, while curious, not enough to raise any concerns. "At least I won't be the foremost upon this list. Moreover, I do believe we hold too much reverence for one another for thee to divulge my matters unto thy leader, thus this doth not present a venture of our labors entwined. Hence, I am left with but a singular conclusion."

She stops abruptly and gives her a bright smile, and Ryoshu doesn't like that little intrigue she left in the end.

It's a silly little provocation, and Ryoshu thinks about staying silent and seeing for how long this awkward moment can stretch until Don Quixote gives up, but the tea is decent, and she feels nice. "W.C.?" Ryoshu asks dryly, making sure Don Quixote knows that she is merely indulging her.

"Thou wanted to see me," Don Quixote says, hiding a smile behind a cup. For a moment Ryoshu thinks about throwing hot water over her knees but decides against it, because technically Don Quixote isn't wrong and Ryoshu doesn't have any reason to be here besides her own wants. So, she hums instead, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, but the uncertainty is enough for Don Quixote’s smile to become even larger, making her look like a fool. Even more than usual.

"I thought that if you stalked me for so long, I should R.A.F and learn something about you." The familiar wince crosses Don Quixote’s face. She is still unimpressed with Ryoshu's choice of terminology but doesn't object, smartly choosing her battles. Or internally agreeing with Ryoshu’s words.

"And what did thou learn?" Don Quixote asks, sounding curious but not worried, as if aware that Ryoshu wasn’t able to dig up any dirt.

Ryoshu takes a slow sip, creating a longer pause to think about what she’s willing to share.

"That you are a really strange Timecollector."

She decides on nothing.

"Huh," Don Quixote’s smile becomes just a bit smaller, the answer obviously not being to her taste. "I thought thou figured it out way before." She deflects with humor again.

"True,” she agrees easily, “but I was surprised with the scale of strangeness." Ryoshu's gaze slides around the room, "and the fact that high-ranking Feather cares that much about Fixers." She adds information as if she didn’t learn it just today.

Well, no. Actually, there was one person mentioning that the “kind” Timecollector spoke their ear off about the new Color that is native to the backstreets of the T district, but Ryoshu thought it was a weird gesture of patriotism and not genuine interest in this field.

“Oh, merely a pastime of mine, of old.” That returns a proper smile on Don Quixote. "You know, I actually did aspire to be a Fixer when first I did arrive hence." She adds abruptly, and there is a nostalgic note in her voice, making her sound older than she is. "I even got a fixer license from the Hana Association."

It's a new piece of information, but this fact adds neatly to a half-collected puzzle that Ryoshu has in her head. Don Quixote does look like someone who can join some idealistic office hopping for a brighter life and die heroically after a few years.

"And why aren't you one now?" She decides to ask bluntly if Don Quixote is so willing to share her past.

"T Corp recruited me,” Don Quixote says plainly, "and I was bid to know that to refuse the Wing is naught but folly."

"They found you?” Ryoshu doesn’t try to hide a surprise in her voice. She didn’t expect it from Don Quixote. “That's impressive."

"Not really. Methinks their ranks were diminished, after the first few appearances of Distortion."

"Have you seen one close?" Ryoshu tries to seem calm, but her own voice betrays her.

"Only a few times. Now, we heed but the first beckon, and should it prove a Distortion, the Corporation doth direct it to the Fixers. They deemed it less costly after Clock Rat.”

“Are they as terrifying as people describe?”

“Some there may be. Perilous and fickle are they, each and all. Yet, battling not the worst part of dealing with them.”

“And what is the worst?”

“Delving into the personage of one gone astray. Discovering what hath driven them to such precipice. And how we failed to keep them safe. Wherefore such endless inquiry?”

"Just curiosity," she huffs, and remembering, takes another sip. The way people described distortion made Ryoshu horribly jealous of one who saw and experienced it. Bloodied battlefields and bodies being used to create different things in stories sounded like something that would be able to make gore look good even in such a tedious palette. Unfortunately, she didn’t have a chance to witness one yet.

"If thou say so," Don Quixote says as if not believing Ryoshu's explanation, which sounds like her problem.

"Are there any more insights that thou art willing to share?" Don Quixote says, taking a more relaxed pose in her seat, palms locked together, laying on her knees.

"I think you would suit better as Yurodivy." At least better than Ryoshu. Her sheer belief in doing the right thing and that Yurodivy is doing so would give her an advantage from the start, letting her easily fill the spot in the organization. Ryoshu could bet she would be happier with them.

Has she ever wondered how her life would have turned out if Yurodivy had come to her before the T Corporation?

"I am not a traitor." If she ever did, nothing on her face show it, Don Quixote’s voice dropping into a dangerous tone and weird tension filling her body. Suddenly she doesn't look as domestic as before.

She saw this type of hostility in Don Quixote once for mere seconds and now Ryoshu became a target of it.

Ryoshu feels excitement.

Anticipation, even. She tries to keep her lips from parting and baring her teeth in a sharp smile, but it’s difficult to drown such a sincere emotion.

The desire for confrontation grows in her chest. Don Quixote was so insistent on being Ryoshu’s ally that she stopped thinking about starting a fight. But now the idea of provoking Don Quixote to the point of snapping becomes real and is only soiled by the lack of a weapon in her hands.

But Ryoshu could give her time to grab it if she shows herself nicely.

But then Don Quixote closes her eyes and breathes in deeply, holding air in for a few seconds, and tension starts to leave her body slowly and steadily, the woman regaining control over herself. When she opens her eyes, a bright gaze, which not even a filter can dull properly, looks at Ryoshu with almost challenging calmness. As if daring her to try to provoke her.

For a few moments they stare at each other, waiting for the next move, but then Ryoshu sighs, returning her attention back to the tea.

How awfully boring.

Don Quixote saw through provocations and will not break now when she knows that it is what Ryoshu wants. Maybe if Ryoshu truly cared about the question, conflict could grow, but she found matters of loyalty an awfully boring thing. And washing out the unsatisfying taste with tea, Ryoshu has to acknowledge she isn’t sure what she wants herself.

After the understanding that she simply wastes time with no clear reason comes to her mind, the desire to continue this farce vanishes, and Ryoshu finishes her drink with a few fast sips, burning her throat a bit. The tingle of pain mixes nicely with the bitter taste of the tea, and she rises from her seat and starts to walk toward the window.

With her side vision she can see Don Quixote slightly nodding. "Leaving so fast?" The question is not a real request to stay but a matter of politeness, of which Don Quixote seems to be fond even outside of her duty. "Did I offend thee somehow?" The last part sounds a bit more sincere, and Ryoshu turns back, meeting Don Quixote’s gaze.

"No,” Ryoshu cuts dryly and looks at her with a challenge. "You bore me," keeping and that is worse, unspoken, but with the way Don Quixote’s eyes glitter up, not unnoticed. A corner of her smile curls, making a polite smile look more mischievous, but not really stung.

"How unfortunate."

Don Quixote rises from her spot too, with the sharp and smooth movement of someone who knows the cost of time. She makes steps forward until they both can hear each other breathing.

It's the closest they have been to each other since the moment Don Quixote pressed her against the wall, and Ryoshu appreciates the sight without armor again.

"Be safe on thy way home," Don Quixote says calmly, and Ryoshu wonders how long it would take her to change her expression if she hit her with a wrench right now.

No, she’s a Timecollector. One hit wouldn’t be enough. If Ryoshu wanted to turn her into the living statue, she would have to throw her on the floor and choke her with metal, waiting to see what ends first - Don Quixote’s time or air.

"From someone else, that would have sounded like a threat, or worse."

Don Quixote tilts her head as if considering her words. "I am a peculiar soul, thou didst declare it thyself."

And then she leaves Ryoshu's personal space as suddenly as she invaded it. On her lips, the Timecollector has a crooked smirk, a sign of the last word being hers. She takes a few steps away from the window and throws Ryoshu a glance as if asking why is she still here.

Ryoshu snorts annoyed and harshly turns to the window and jumps out. Air greets her with a slight resistance, forcing the hem of her jacket upward. Her boots hit the ground loudly, but she gracefully rises up, softening the impact, and without looking starts walking immediately, trying to disappear in the dusk or at least from the street, so a light gaze would not catch her. It's still early, but the hazel tone already starts to mix with the natural darkness, making T Corp look like every other district if you try to convince yourself hard enough.

She tries to get away as fast as possible, but she manages to cross only a few silent streets before the habit wins and Ryoshu goes to her pocket searching for the pack.

To her surprise, the pocket is surprisingly light, and for a second, she thinks it’s empty.

Then she finds something else.

A neatly folded piece of paper looks tiny in her palm, barely a phalanx of her little finger, but when she unfolds it, it grows to the size of a notebook page, but the small letters tightly fill all free space, making the paper look almost black and completely unreadable in the dark. Ryoshu has to find a lantern to check her new finding. Under the dull light she sees a list of names and numbers written in weird order, and it takes Ryoshu a few seconds to notice a familiar one and then a pattern, discovering the meaning behind it. She snorts loudly, barely able to keep her unbelieving laughter in check.

Dozens of corrupted targets, numbers of stolen hours, and their whereabouts. The intel that Yurodivy would have to take weeks to investigate and find was given to her on a plate, directly from the database of the corporation in exchange for a half-finished pack of cigarettes.

What a great trade!

Don Quixote’s leaps of logic once again fascinate Ryoshu. Such a desperate insistence on her loyalty while betraying T Corp in all forms possible without any hesitation. It makes her wish she could take a saw and open Don Quixote’s skull to see what strange mutation in her brain gives birth to the mad ideas.

But then again, what forces Don Quixote to such reckless deeds is none of her business. If she wants to play hero and try to convince herself that nothing she does is treason, she can try.

She hides a paper in her pocket and looks up at the endlessly black sky.

What Ryoshu needs to think about is how she will explain to Hong Lu how all of this information got in her hands.

That would be a long conversation.

_____

To her surprise, it takes less than two sentences to convince Hong Lu to accept this information.

But the information turns out to be absolutely legit, to Ryoshu's absolute lack of surprise, even if it required a bit more decoding. It’s always difficult to read Hong Lu’s serene face, but he definitely wasn’t disappointed. How could he? It's the first time when they have so many targets at once, which could give them months of work. But Hong Lu doesn't rush to clear them all.

Instead, he blackmails.

It does not surprise Ryoshu either. Despite all good intentions, Yurodivy are always ready to sink low, and this at least brings more time to their growing numbers. If they wished to stay out of dirt in white coats and shining ideals, Ryoshu wouldn’t bother to join their ranks.

But the disappointment is still here. It is difficult to stay unmoving when Ryoshu knows about existing targets.

She has half-regret about giving a paper to Hong Lu instead of committing vigilante "justice."

Without Yurodivy support and coordination it would have been a short crusade, but how fascinating would it be going from name to name, trying to outrun Timecollectors and Fixers?

Perhaps if she would manage to get at least through half of the list, Don Quixote would have been sent after her, giving Ryoshu a chance for a rematch. She hasn’t seen or heard about the woman since their last meeting, as if she disappeared from the district. The mere thought of it makes her pulse go faster. What a wonderful sight it would be to see Don Quixote protecting people whom she asked Ryoshu to kill.

But she has to abandon this undoubtedly tempting idea.

Ryoshu had all the cards in her hands and made a logical, smart decision, and now all she can do is accept its consequences and wait wisely and patiently.

The most annoying thing is that the district actually seems to become calmer and safer for a majority of people, with Hong Lu's shady ways working for the citizens of the Wing and backstreets. People from the list still abused their employees, stealing months every day, but a cut of this time went to the Yurodivy, who distributed it according to their needs.

And this surplus of time was enough to make the most agitated personalities more willing to wait, robbing the organization of its usual haste, giving Hong Lu more opportunities for his quiet maneuvers. But at least now Timecollectors aren't searching for Yurodivy frantically.

Absence of chase allows Ryoshu to wander around streets with no fear of getting into trouble with authorities.

The district is calm, the backstreets are calm, and the fact that she is the reason this happened weighs heavily on her mind. People simply exist, thinking it's just a period of peace, not aware of all the dirty things happening behind their backs to uphold this calmness. They cannot afford to care about the reason. Time is too scarce in their hand to waste it on empty wondering. People take every day without catastrophe and use every single hour as much as possible.

It's elegant in its own way, but Ryoshu can't appreciate this ant-like busyness. People got more hours in their hands and yet wasted them for the same things. How much time will it take for the information in Hong Lu's hands to run dry?

"That's not what I expected to happen when I gave thee that list," she hears suddenly too close, and the weapon flies on instinct, swinging millimeters away from Don Quixote's calm face. She's out of uniform, Ryoshu notices first the lack of hat and monocle and then the other parts of the uniform. Don Quixote looks like a civilian with a simple coat draped over her shoulders.

Don Quixote doesn’t react to her threat at all, simply waiting for Ryoshu’s words, her face staying weirdly serene, and Ryoshu suddenly understands that it lacks a usual smile.

"Did you think I would do all the dirty work for you, D.E.A.R?" Ryoshu skips the greeting but doesn't lower her weapon, still keeping it at Don Quixote's eye level. "Sorry to disappoint, but I still have people over me, and despite its seductiveness, I couldn't go on a rampage all by myself.” She continues teasingly thinking about adding “Sorry your betrayal resulted in nothing” in the end just to see a familiar spark of annoyance.

But her thoughts get distracted with Don Quixote's humorless chuckle.

"No, Ryoshu, thou did not disappoint me," Don Quixote continues, placing her fingers on the wrench but not pushing it away, simply keeping it here, as if not trusting Ryoshu’s hand to be steady.

"I just," she stumbles, eyes burning with something new, "I just thought that Yurodivy would be different," she confesses bitterly.

The raw, tired honesty in her voice sends a cold shiver down Ryoshu’s back. Truly, Don Quixote isn't disappointed with Ryoshu.

She is disappointed with herself.

To Ryoshu these weeks were boring, but what about Don Quixote, who placed all bets on Yurodivy and saw nothing happen?

"You regret giving me information?" Ryoshu blurts out, willing to take Don Quixote’s anger but not this calmness.

Don Quixote's smile curls into something different, baring teeth into a snarl.

"I already told, naught I wrought hath led me to be displeased with thee," Don Quixote repeats with a hollow voice as if not hearing an actual question. "I regret hoping thou could do more." She adds after a second. “I regret believing that something is different on the other side.”

It stings in a new way, leaving a clawmark on Ryoshu's pride, to her own surprise. It’s not supposed to reach her. She never claimed to be a rebel that Don Quixote could place her expectations on.

But the fact she somehow failed in her eyes is also annoying. She pushes the wrench forward, and without resistance, metal hits the soft skin of her throat, stopping a wave of nonsense flowing from it.

Don Quixote doesn’t resist at all, letting the weapon be so close to her lifeline.

"Are you giving up now?" She demands, not hiding the aversion in her voice.

Don Quixote laughs, echoing her tone. "Have I actually tried anything?" She spits out in a cold voice, fingers curling around the handle tighter, and she presses it closer to the throat, each word sending a shiver through cold metal to Ryoshu’s hand. "All I did was oothe mine conscience with paltry deeds, and cast aside duty, teetering upon the line of betrayal. Not committing to anything." Last words she murmurs, barely audible, as if speaking only to herself.

Something in her lowered gaze makes Ryoshu’s skin crawl, and she sharply tugs away a wrench from Don Quixote's hand without thinking.

She looks at her empty palm with an equally empty expression. "I wanted to apologize," she suddenly says without looking at Ryoshu. Without looking at anything actually, her gaze is unfocused as if she isn’t there. "I placed my bets upon thee without asking, putting thee in danger."

Ryoshu frowns.

"I don't not care-“

"Of course thou don't," Don Quixote interrupts. She is still not looking at Ryoshu and now seems to not even listen to the person in front of her, sunk deep in her thoughts. As the person she’s apologizing to does not fucking matter. “Even this is for mine own peace of mind, thou are right.”

"Stop this ridiculous self-pity and do something," Ryoshu snaps angrily, grasping another person's collar and tugging sharply. She doesn’t know with whom Don Quixote is agreeing, but it’s definitely not her.

"What-" Don Quixote blinks as if confused with the suddenly agitated tone but not comprehending the meaning behind it. It takes her a second to notice a grip on her clothes, and with a sharp, clearly annoyed movement, she breaks free.

Ryoshu feels generous and repeats everything with addition.

"Wish to dump out this honorable nonsense and falling of morals. Go and find someone else. I care not about your ideology, only actions."

"Got it." Don Quixote’s face becomes colder, Ryoshu’s words finally reaching her. “Sorry to bother you.” But instead of anger, there is empty politeness. “The only thing I wanted to do is return this.” The object flies, and in her hand, Ryoshu finds a stolen pack. Don Quixote isn’t planning to do anything. She wants to escape, severing all ties left.

"You don't get anything," Ryoshu spits, grabbing her again by the hand, locking their palms together in mockery of handholding. "Do you think I believe that without the list you don't remember the names of these scums? Act, for Wings' sake."

Don Quixote’s fingers clawed in her backhand.

"I am not a traitor." The cold expression breaks into familiar fury, and Ryoshu likes it more, basking in intense attention.

"But they are," she steps closer to Don Quixote, who despite a secondary confusion still looks ready to tear her apart. What a beautiful fierceness. "They are in cahoots with Yurodivy."

As a woman in front of her, but with a hopeful spark gleaming in her gaze when the meaning behind her words gets to her fully, Ryoshu is sure that the needed jump in logic is crossed.

"It would bring problems to thine plans," she adds with hesitation as if waiting for Ryoshu to stop her. Grasp this hope out of her hands, pushing Don Quixote back into the darkness of her own head.

The idea is tempering in a certain way.

"And why would the Timecollector care about it?" She asks instead, hovering above another woman.

Hesitatingly a smile appears back on Don Quixote's lips. "Then I shall go." She steps away, throwing the last glance at Ryoshu. "Please stay out of my way. This time I am planning to do my work diligently."

"I sure hope so," thinks Ryoshu, wondering which blackmail victim will need her protection first.

Without looking, she opens a pack, but after a second, looks down to see that out of the half-full carton, only three cigarettes are left. She didn’t know that Don Quixote smoked.

A smile freezes on her face, something between amusement and anger.

Wings, Ryoshu really needs to make her bleed.