Ghost In The Shell: Stand Alone Complex Fan Fiction ❯ Casualty Notification ❯ Casualty Notification ( Chapter 1 )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: AnaKhouri 
A quick one-shot about a tough duty.
Anime/Manga: Ghost In The Shell: Stand Alone Complex Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 01.14.2011 | Pages: 2 | Words: 2.5K | Visits: 300 | Status: Completed
A quick one-shot about a tough duty.
Anime/Manga: Ghost In The Shell: Stand Alone Complex Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 01.14.2011 | Pages: 2 | Words: 2.5K | Visits: 300 | Status: Completed
Togusa liked working for Public Security. It was faster-paced than the police force, more exciting, and definitely paid better. But sometimes he missed being a simple detective. At least when he was a detective, he’d never found himself in the middle of a stare-down between two fully armored combat cyborgs.
“I don’t mind doing it.” He said uneasily. “I had to do it a lot when I was a cop…it sucks, but you get used to it.”
Neither of them acknowledged that he’d spoken. They might have been alone, for all the attention they gave the rest of the team.
Batou said, in a tone so calm and hard that it made Togusa’s skin crawl, “You fucked up, and Yato was killed. You should notify the family yourself.”
The Major’s eyes were dangerously narrow, her face set and hard as a statue’s. She said nothing. After a long, agonizing moment, Batou swung around and stalked out of the room. He brushed the door with his shoulder as he passed; it bounced and crashed into the wall.
Togusa waited, but no one fractured the silence. “Major, do you want me to-“
“No.” Something dark flickered in her eyes and was gone. “Don’t worry about it, Togusa. I’ll do it.”
When she had left, Borma said dazedly, “What the Hell was that?”
“Things are all weird lately. Batou’s beyond pissed, and she’s just…taking it.” Paz lit a cigarette.
“Don’t worry, kids.” Ishikawa drawled. “Mommy and Daddy still love each other, even if they fight sometimes.” But the lines between his eyes deepened with silent worry.
None of it made Togusa feel any better.
********************************************************** ***************************
By the time she dug out her uniform and had it pressed, it was late morning. The parking garage was deserted; her heels clicked on the cement, flinging echoes around the cars. It was all wrong, the shoes, the skirt, the cold hard lump of uneasiness in her stomach. A mother, a father, a sister. At least Yato didn’t have a wife, or children. Get it over with and come back.
She sensed Batou before she saw him. She could sense any of her men, the feather touch on her mind of someone who shared a cyberbrain connection with her, but Batou was the easiest to recognize. She didn’t think much about why.
He leaned on a pillar next to her car, hands shoved deep in his pockets. Under his old coat, he wore a dark suit. It was so utterly incongruous that she fought the urge to laugh. The suit could only mean one thing. She swallowed her amusement and drew anger around herself like a cloak. “What do you want?”
“To apologize.” He straightened up, ran his hand through his hair like a schoolboy in trouble. “I was too hard on you back there. Everyone makes mistakes, Major. There was no reason for me to be such an asshole.”
“Fine.” She opened her car door. “I’m going, anyway. Are you happy now?”
He ignored the sarcasm. “I’m coming with you.”
“No. You’re not.”
“Yeah, I am.”
“Why are you so fucking determined?”
He raised his eyebrows, as if he was surprised she didn’t know the answer. “Because you need me.”
“Like Hell I do.” She was startled by her own ferocity. He wasn’t mad at her anymore, so why was she still mad at him? No one could make her angrier than Batou.
“Look Major, I spent way more time with the recruits than you ever did. If Yato’s family has questions, or if they need to hear some nice things about him…I can do that.” He leaned his elbows on the roof of her car. She glared, but, dammit, he was right.
“Get in.” She snarled. He had the grace not to smile at his victory.
The sky was gray and flecked with low, wispy clouds. The windshield beaded with moisture as soon as she pulled out of the garage. They drove in silence; no chatting, no radio. A few bars of pop music would have snapped her last nerve. Her knuckles were white on the steering wheel.
Yato’s neighborhood was identical to neighborhoods all over the city, rows of houses that all looked the same, half-hidden behind plaster walls. Wide sidewalks, webs of telephone wires crossing over them, a few modest cars parked at the curbs. She pulled up in front of the address in Yato’s file. For a moment she gazed at the blank house, the plaque by the gate with the family name. “Maybe his parents are at work. We should have called first.”
“Nope. Dad’s retired, mom’s a housewife. Sister in college.” Batou couldn’t quite hide his pleasure in being right. “Talkative guy, Yato.”
There was no use in putting it off. She got out. Batou followed. The air was damp and cool. Something about the houses, the quiet street, touched some half-buried memory in her mind. “I lived on a street just like this, when I was a kid.”
Batou paused. Two lines appeared between his eyes. No wonder; she never talked about herself.
“Hell,” He drawled finally. “It’s much, much nicer than where I grew up.”
She breathed deeply of the chilled air. Then she crossed the road, her heels clicking on the pockmarked pavement. It sounded painfully loud in the midday stillness. She felt more than heard Batou striding after her; for such a big man, he could be surprisingly quiet.
She gate slid silently open when she laid her hand on it. Beyond was a concrete path, a tiny garden with a gnarled tree and neat beds of flowers in complementary colors: the garden of a retired couple. She rang the bell. Batou waited on the path behind her, so as not to fill the doorway and look threatening.
Too quickly there were footsteps, and the door opened to reveal a man with a face like a bloodhound, all droopy eyes and sagging jowls. But he fixed her with a sharp gaze, and his lips lifted in an uncertain smile. “Can I help you?”
“Mr. Yato? I’m Major Motoko Kusanagi, of Section 9.” The words spilled from her mouth without effort. She sounded cool, professional. Something to be grateful for, at least. “This is Batou. We need to speak to you about your son…” She paused. She didn’t even know Yato’s given name.
“Tadashi.” Batou said. “Tadashi Yato.”
He knew. She could see he knew as soon as the words were spoken. Mr. Yato’s face went gray, as gray as the swollen clouds above. His smile sank into a frown. She could imagine the sudden sick feeling that twisted his stomach, the coppery taste of fear in his mouth. His voice trembled. “My…my son? Is he…all right?”
“May we come in?” It was cruel to make him wait for the news; she should just tell him here, on the doorstep. But it wasn’t done that way. Mr. Yato swallowed, his jowls shaking. Already he looked older. He nodded.
He shuffled before them down the hall. There was a pile of shoes in the foyer, but neither she nor Batou moved to remove theirs. They were trampling on these people’s hearts. Their carpet hardly mattered.
A woman was sitting in the living room, reading a novel. She was the same age as the man, plump and steel-haired, with a watchful gaze. She looked up at them curiously, but with suspicion as well. Probably her husband invited door-to-door salespeople inside for tea. “Who’s this, Akira?”
“They’re from Section 9. Where Tadashi works.” Mr. Yato sat in a recliner. He buried his face in his hands and burst into tears.
Mrs. Yato’s face hardened. “What happened?”
Her stony anger was a relief, next to Mr. Yato’s consuming grief. Despite everything, the Major relaxed a little. “I regret to inform you that your son was killed in action last night.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“I’m afraid I can’t tell you more than that.”
“It was a counter-terrorism operation.” Batou said gently. “Your son died in the line of duty. And…” He paused a moment. Mrs. Yato had turned her still face to him, probably sensing an ally. “I can promise you that we are doing everything possible to see that he has justice.”
“So Tadashi was killed by a terrorist?” She sounded as if she didn’t believe it.
The Major shuddered. But Batou only nodded. “Yes.”
“When…when can we see him?” Mr. Yato managed to ask. “When can we….bring him home?”
“Someone will contact you today to let you know when you can…” She trailed off; she’d nearly said ‘pick up the body’ .
“When you can see him.” Batou completed her sentence. “The political chief of Section 9 will want to offer his condolances at that time. I’ll give you a card with his direct phone number.”
“Thank you.”
“Is there anything else we can do for you right now?”
“No.” Mrs. Yato’s lips curved into a grimace; perhaps she was attempting a smile. “Thank you.”
A clatter of feet on the steps startled them all. A moment later a girl appeared in the living room door. She was pretty, in an eager kind of way. She wore a sweatshirt with the logo of a local university, and carried a messenger bag slung over her shoulder.
“I’m going to cl-“ She caught sight of the strangers and stopped short. “Oh, who…Daddy? What’s wrong?”
The messenger bag hit the floor as she pushed past Batou and the Major. She dropped to her knees in front of her father, looking back and forth between her parents. Panic flooded her eyes. “Mom?”
“Your brother.” Mr. Yato took her hands in his, holding them as if she were an anchor. “Saya, your brother’s dead.”
“Tadashi?” Saya stared at him. “How?”
Mrs. Yato fixed the Major with her dry, glassy gaze. “I think you should go now.”
“Of course.” Batou gave a slight, awkward bow. “Please let us know if we can help in any way.”
Mr. Yato looked up, scrubbing his eyes with his sleeve. “I’m sorry to act like this…but our son…Tadashi is our oldest…do you have children?” He was staring directly at her, pleading, wanting her to understand.
“Of course she doesn’t have children.” Mrs. Yato’s voice grated. “Just look at her. She isn’t even a real person.”
“Mom!” Saya gasped. The Major shook her head.
“It’s all right,” she said. “I’m…I’m sorry to have brought pain to your family.”
She turned and strode out, Batou following. One of her stupid heels caught on the threshold of the front door, and she stumbled a bit. Batou threw out a hand to catch her, but she regained her balance immediately and he let his arm drop.
They walked to the car in silence. A drizzly, half-hearted rain had begun to fall, pattering softly to the pavement. Batou leaned against the passenger door and lit a cigarette. “Man,” He said after a moment. “Togusa was right. That sucked. You okay?”
When she didn’t answer, he added, “It’s raining. You want to get in the car?”
“Why do I care if it’s raining? It’s not like I’m a real person anyway.” Bitterness tasted flat and sour on her tongue. She hadn’t meant to say that. It wasn’t as if she thought no one could tell- that the Yatos couldn’t tell. For the creators of armored combat cyborgs, making their creations look like regular humans was not a high priority.
“Hey.” He sounded genuinely surprised. “She was upset. She didn’t mean it.”
“Sure.” She slumped against her side of the car. A stray drop of rain trickled down her neck, into her collar.
“Besides, we’re in the same boat. And I am definitely a real person, so you must be too.”
Yes, Batou was definitely a real person. But that didn’t mean…she unlocked the car.
“Wait!”
They looked back. The girl, Saya, let the door crash shut behind her. She jogged down the path and across the street without looking. She stopped by the car.
“I’m sorry.” She ran a hand through her hair. “My mom…you know. She shouldn’t have said that. I apologize for her rudeness.”
“There’s nothing to apologize for.” The Major said automatically.
“They told me…you’re Tadashi’s commanding officer, right?” Without waiting for a reply, Saya plunged ahead. “If you came yourself, to tell us, that means…you really respected him, right?”
“Your brother was a valuable member of Section 9.” It sounded lame, canned. But it seemed to satisfy Saya.
“He really loved it, you know. He was really excited to work for Section 9, and even if he couldn’t tell us much of what he did…he really loved it. And it’s amazing that you came out here yourself to tell us, usually they’d send a junior officer, right?...and…and Mom and Dad will realize that, after…when they can get it together.” Her tone veered upward. Her eyes glistened. She bowed quickly and walked back to the house, head hanging. The door closed behind her. The Major tried not to think of what was happening in that house.
She’d spoken to Yato maybe twice. She barely remembered what he looked like.
Batou let his cigarette dangle. “That poor kid.”
“Here.” She threw him the car keys. He caught them one-handed. “I’m going to take a walk.”
“In the rain?”
She slipped off her shoes and kicked them under the car. The concrete chilled her bare feet. “I’m not going to catch my death.”
He exhaled a cloud of smoke. “Want company?”
“No. I’d rather be alone.” She hesitated. “No, come on. Being with you is like being alone.”
“Oh, geez. Thanks.” He straightened up, stuck his free hand in his coat pocket. The rain became steadier, spotting the shoulders of her uniform. Barefoot, she began to walk down the empty street, Batou by her side.
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“I don’t mind doing it.” He said uneasily. “I had to do it a lot when I was a cop…it sucks, but you get used to it.”
Neither of them acknowledged that he’d spoken. They might have been alone, for all the attention they gave the rest of the team.
Batou said, in a tone so calm and hard that it made Togusa’s skin crawl, “You fucked up, and Yato was killed. You should notify the family yourself.”
The Major’s eyes were dangerously narrow, her face set and hard as a statue’s. She said nothing. After a long, agonizing moment, Batou swung around and stalked out of the room. He brushed the door with his shoulder as he passed; it bounced and crashed into the wall.
Togusa waited, but no one fractured the silence. “Major, do you want me to-“
“No.” Something dark flickered in her eyes and was gone. “Don’t worry about it, Togusa. I’ll do it.”
When she had left, Borma said dazedly, “What the Hell was that?”
“Things are all weird lately. Batou’s beyond pissed, and she’s just…taking it.” Paz lit a cigarette.
“Don’t worry, kids.” Ishikawa drawled. “Mommy and Daddy still love each other, even if they fight sometimes.” But the lines between his eyes deepened with silent worry.
None of it made Togusa feel any better.
********************************************************** ***************************
By the time she dug out her uniform and had it pressed, it was late morning. The parking garage was deserted; her heels clicked on the cement, flinging echoes around the cars. It was all wrong, the shoes, the skirt, the cold hard lump of uneasiness in her stomach. A mother, a father, a sister. At least Yato didn’t have a wife, or children. Get it over with and come back.
She sensed Batou before she saw him. She could sense any of her men, the feather touch on her mind of someone who shared a cyberbrain connection with her, but Batou was the easiest to recognize. She didn’t think much about why.
He leaned on a pillar next to her car, hands shoved deep in his pockets. Under his old coat, he wore a dark suit. It was so utterly incongruous that she fought the urge to laugh. The suit could only mean one thing. She swallowed her amusement and drew anger around herself like a cloak. “What do you want?”
“To apologize.” He straightened up, ran his hand through his hair like a schoolboy in trouble. “I was too hard on you back there. Everyone makes mistakes, Major. There was no reason for me to be such an asshole.”
“Fine.” She opened her car door. “I’m going, anyway. Are you happy now?”
He ignored the sarcasm. “I’m coming with you.”
“No. You’re not.”
“Yeah, I am.”
“Why are you so fucking determined?”
He raised his eyebrows, as if he was surprised she didn’t know the answer. “Because you need me.”
“Like Hell I do.” She was startled by her own ferocity. He wasn’t mad at her anymore, so why was she still mad at him? No one could make her angrier than Batou.
“Look Major, I spent way more time with the recruits than you ever did. If Yato’s family has questions, or if they need to hear some nice things about him…I can do that.” He leaned his elbows on the roof of her car. She glared, but, dammit, he was right.
“Get in.” She snarled. He had the grace not to smile at his victory.
The sky was gray and flecked with low, wispy clouds. The windshield beaded with moisture as soon as she pulled out of the garage. They drove in silence; no chatting, no radio. A few bars of pop music would have snapped her last nerve. Her knuckles were white on the steering wheel.
Yato’s neighborhood was identical to neighborhoods all over the city, rows of houses that all looked the same, half-hidden behind plaster walls. Wide sidewalks, webs of telephone wires crossing over them, a few modest cars parked at the curbs. She pulled up in front of the address in Yato’s file. For a moment she gazed at the blank house, the plaque by the gate with the family name. “Maybe his parents are at work. We should have called first.”
“Nope. Dad’s retired, mom’s a housewife. Sister in college.” Batou couldn’t quite hide his pleasure in being right. “Talkative guy, Yato.”
There was no use in putting it off. She got out. Batou followed. The air was damp and cool. Something about the houses, the quiet street, touched some half-buried memory in her mind. “I lived on a street just like this, when I was a kid.”
Batou paused. Two lines appeared between his eyes. No wonder; she never talked about herself.
“Hell,” He drawled finally. “It’s much, much nicer than where I grew up.”
She breathed deeply of the chilled air. Then she crossed the road, her heels clicking on the pockmarked pavement. It sounded painfully loud in the midday stillness. She felt more than heard Batou striding after her; for such a big man, he could be surprisingly quiet.
She gate slid silently open when she laid her hand on it. Beyond was a concrete path, a tiny garden with a gnarled tree and neat beds of flowers in complementary colors: the garden of a retired couple. She rang the bell. Batou waited on the path behind her, so as not to fill the doorway and look threatening.
Too quickly there were footsteps, and the door opened to reveal a man with a face like a bloodhound, all droopy eyes and sagging jowls. But he fixed her with a sharp gaze, and his lips lifted in an uncertain smile. “Can I help you?”
“Mr. Yato? I’m Major Motoko Kusanagi, of Section 9.” The words spilled from her mouth without effort. She sounded cool, professional. Something to be grateful for, at least. “This is Batou. We need to speak to you about your son…” She paused. She didn’t even know Yato’s given name.
“Tadashi.” Batou said. “Tadashi Yato.”
He knew. She could see he knew as soon as the words were spoken. Mr. Yato’s face went gray, as gray as the swollen clouds above. His smile sank into a frown. She could imagine the sudden sick feeling that twisted his stomach, the coppery taste of fear in his mouth. His voice trembled. “My…my son? Is he…all right?”
“May we come in?” It was cruel to make him wait for the news; she should just tell him here, on the doorstep. But it wasn’t done that way. Mr. Yato swallowed, his jowls shaking. Already he looked older. He nodded.
He shuffled before them down the hall. There was a pile of shoes in the foyer, but neither she nor Batou moved to remove theirs. They were trampling on these people’s hearts. Their carpet hardly mattered.
A woman was sitting in the living room, reading a novel. She was the same age as the man, plump and steel-haired, with a watchful gaze. She looked up at them curiously, but with suspicion as well. Probably her husband invited door-to-door salespeople inside for tea. “Who’s this, Akira?”
“They’re from Section 9. Where Tadashi works.” Mr. Yato sat in a recliner. He buried his face in his hands and burst into tears.
Mrs. Yato’s face hardened. “What happened?”
Her stony anger was a relief, next to Mr. Yato’s consuming grief. Despite everything, the Major relaxed a little. “I regret to inform you that your son was killed in action last night.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“I’m afraid I can’t tell you more than that.”
“It was a counter-terrorism operation.” Batou said gently. “Your son died in the line of duty. And…” He paused a moment. Mrs. Yato had turned her still face to him, probably sensing an ally. “I can promise you that we are doing everything possible to see that he has justice.”
“So Tadashi was killed by a terrorist?” She sounded as if she didn’t believe it.
The Major shuddered. But Batou only nodded. “Yes.”
“When…when can we see him?” Mr. Yato managed to ask. “When can we….bring him home?”
“Someone will contact you today to let you know when you can…” She trailed off; she’d nearly said ‘pick up the body’ .
“When you can see him.” Batou completed her sentence. “The political chief of Section 9 will want to offer his condolances at that time. I’ll give you a card with his direct phone number.”
“Thank you.”
“Is there anything else we can do for you right now?”
“No.” Mrs. Yato’s lips curved into a grimace; perhaps she was attempting a smile. “Thank you.”
A clatter of feet on the steps startled them all. A moment later a girl appeared in the living room door. She was pretty, in an eager kind of way. She wore a sweatshirt with the logo of a local university, and carried a messenger bag slung over her shoulder.
“I’m going to cl-“ She caught sight of the strangers and stopped short. “Oh, who…Daddy? What’s wrong?”
The messenger bag hit the floor as she pushed past Batou and the Major. She dropped to her knees in front of her father, looking back and forth between her parents. Panic flooded her eyes. “Mom?”
“Your brother.” Mr. Yato took her hands in his, holding them as if she were an anchor. “Saya, your brother’s dead.”
“Tadashi?” Saya stared at him. “How?”
Mrs. Yato fixed the Major with her dry, glassy gaze. “I think you should go now.”
“Of course.” Batou gave a slight, awkward bow. “Please let us know if we can help in any way.”
Mr. Yato looked up, scrubbing his eyes with his sleeve. “I’m sorry to act like this…but our son…Tadashi is our oldest…do you have children?” He was staring directly at her, pleading, wanting her to understand.
“Of course she doesn’t have children.” Mrs. Yato’s voice grated. “Just look at her. She isn’t even a real person.”
“Mom!” Saya gasped. The Major shook her head.
“It’s all right,” she said. “I’m…I’m sorry to have brought pain to your family.”
She turned and strode out, Batou following. One of her stupid heels caught on the threshold of the front door, and she stumbled a bit. Batou threw out a hand to catch her, but she regained her balance immediately and he let his arm drop.
They walked to the car in silence. A drizzly, half-hearted rain had begun to fall, pattering softly to the pavement. Batou leaned against the passenger door and lit a cigarette. “Man,” He said after a moment. “Togusa was right. That sucked. You okay?”
When she didn’t answer, he added, “It’s raining. You want to get in the car?”
“Why do I care if it’s raining? It’s not like I’m a real person anyway.” Bitterness tasted flat and sour on her tongue. She hadn’t meant to say that. It wasn’t as if she thought no one could tell- that the Yatos couldn’t tell. For the creators of armored combat cyborgs, making their creations look like regular humans was not a high priority.
“Hey.” He sounded genuinely surprised. “She was upset. She didn’t mean it.”
“Sure.” She slumped against her side of the car. A stray drop of rain trickled down her neck, into her collar.
“Besides, we’re in the same boat. And I am definitely a real person, so you must be too.”
Yes, Batou was definitely a real person. But that didn’t mean…she unlocked the car.
“Wait!”
They looked back. The girl, Saya, let the door crash shut behind her. She jogged down the path and across the street without looking. She stopped by the car.
“I’m sorry.” She ran a hand through her hair. “My mom…you know. She shouldn’t have said that. I apologize for her rudeness.”
“There’s nothing to apologize for.” The Major said automatically.
“They told me…you’re Tadashi’s commanding officer, right?” Without waiting for a reply, Saya plunged ahead. “If you came yourself, to tell us, that means…you really respected him, right?”
“Your brother was a valuable member of Section 9.” It sounded lame, canned. But it seemed to satisfy Saya.
“He really loved it, you know. He was really excited to work for Section 9, and even if he couldn’t tell us much of what he did…he really loved it. And it’s amazing that you came out here yourself to tell us, usually they’d send a junior officer, right?...and…and Mom and Dad will realize that, after…when they can get it together.” Her tone veered upward. Her eyes glistened. She bowed quickly and walked back to the house, head hanging. The door closed behind her. The Major tried not to think of what was happening in that house.
She’d spoken to Yato maybe twice. She barely remembered what he looked like.
Batou let his cigarette dangle. “That poor kid.”
“Here.” She threw him the car keys. He caught them one-handed. “I’m going to take a walk.”
“In the rain?”
She slipped off her shoes and kicked them under the car. The concrete chilled her bare feet. “I’m not going to catch my death.”
He exhaled a cloud of smoke. “Want company?”
“No. I’d rather be alone.” She hesitated. “No, come on. Being with you is like being alone.”
“Oh, geez. Thanks.” He straightened up, stuck his free hand in his coat pocket. The rain became steadier, spotting the shoulders of her uniform. Barefoot, she began to walk down the empty street, Batou by her side.
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