Kawamoto Kuromi stood at the floor-to-ceiling window, gazing out at the view that spread out below her. From her vantage point, even all but the tallest of Nagoya’s skyscrapers failed to cloud her view. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the glass; thin auburn hair, slight features, dark eyes. She couldn’t even remember how she used to look, it was so long ago...

Behind her, the door clicked open softly, and a heartbeat later closed just as softly. Kuromi stiffened, but didn’t turn her gaze away from the window. After all, this was the Order’s most secure stronghold in Japan; less than a dozen people knew how to get past all the wards surrounding the penthouse. Of course, less than a week ago, one of those elite few had been killed horribly as their greatest prize escaped from her confinement. It was an act of will, to not turn around and determine who had entered the apartment. It didn’t matter really. Even if Casiphiel had learned how to bypass the wards from Xanti’s memory, it was highly unlikely that she would have the power to do so.

“I find it interesting...” the intruder murmured, moving up to stand by Kuromi’s side, looking out the window. “The ancients tried to build a tower to heaven, and for their sheer arrogance, the Lord scrambled their language, so that none could understand each other. And in the last hundred years, man has again built up towards the heavens, so that now you can barely find a city without its own Tower of Babel...and yet, He does nothing.” Kuromi turned her head slightly to see the small woman, whose sleek black hair and dark almond eyes made her an exotic sight, even in Japan.

“Are you suggesting, Thi Mai, that He has gotten soft in His old age?” she asked with a slight smirk crossing her lips. Thi Mai let out a mocking gasp.

“Emeleth! You should know me better than to think I would speak such utter blasphemy...I’m hurt! I was merely commenting on how the times have changed-”

“Whatever you say. Now then, down to business. Have you found them already?” Kuromi moved away from the window, and over to the low couch in the center of the room. Thi Mai followed shortly after, crossing her legs at the ankles as she sunk down on the couch, with Kuromi looking over her shoulder. She placed her bag on the couch beside her and pulled out a thin folder.

“You’ll be happy to see, oh fearless leader, that I, your humble follower have achieved the nigh impossible in only five days.”

“Can the flattery, I know you don’t mean a word of it.”

“But of course I do; after all-”

Kuromi cut Thi Mai off by holding up her hand. “Just. Stop. What do we have?”

“The first girl was surprisingly difficult to track down. She was the first host, and that was twenty-three years ago. She’s out of school now; working as an assistant to a manager of a small theater in Okazaki. Incredible obscurity, even her parents aren’t all that sure of where she disappeared to after college...”

“Name?”

“Iwamoto Kumiko.”

* * *

“Look, Masaharu...I don’t care what the director told you; your little production has already gone over your budget twice since you started rehearsing this disaster. I can’t authorize any more funds without a signed letter from Mr. Ozato. You are going to have to take it up with him...” Kumiko leaned back in her office chair, pushing a stray piece of dark brown hair back up under the kerchief with the rest of the shoulder length strands as she glared across the cluttered desk at the scruffy young man standing there.

“C’mon, Kumiko...you can make an exception for me, can’t you?” he stepped around the side of the desk, and leaned back against it, facing her.

“I already made an exception for you...last time!”

“All the more reason.” He leaned over her, his lips moving only inches from hers, one hand resting lightly at her hip, the other supporting him at the top of the chair. He slipped his fingers under the hem of the shirt, and started to move his hand up her side. “I’m sure we can work something out, right Kumiko?” he murmured softly. She froze, momentarily, then narrowed her eyes and jerked her knee up to come in contact with the front of his left hip. He staggered back, cursing loudly as he glared at her. “You bitch! You-”

“Just be glad my aim wasn’t better, Masaharu, or you’d be singing soprano at rehearsal tonight. Those tricks might work with that hussy you cast as lead, but they aren’t going to work with me!”

Masaharu straightened up, and a cocky grin settled on his face. “I get it. You’re jealous that I didn’t cast you as the lead. You think I chose looks over talent, and you want to punish me for that. Right, Kumiko. Can’t stand the fact that someone better looking is also more talented, huh?”

Kumiko stood up, stepped towards him. “First off, everyone in the community realizes that the only reason you cast Fujita in that role is because she was the only girl who you could actually get to sleep with you a second time. And if anyone doubts that, all they have to do is watch one of your rehearsals and see how incompetent she is. Second, I wouldn’t be caught dead in such a second-rate show...”

“Oh, so is that why the great Kumiko hasn’t a single acting credit to her name since college? Everything here is too beneath her? Is that it?”

“Get out.”

“You don’t think it might be because you have no talent, or that no one in their right mind would cast an actress with your attitude? Hmm?”

“I said...get out.” The phone rang.

“I’m going to make a complaint with your boss, Kumiko.”

“Be my guest. There are plenty of shows that would pay a lot more than you are to have this theater space...” Kumiko picked up the phone. "Moshi moshi, Okazaki Daitou Theater. How can I help you?" She pointedly turned her back towards Masaharu, dismissing him.

“Kumiko?” The girl on the other end of the line sounded close to hysterics, but Kumiko still recognized her.

“Rika-chan, what’s wrong?”

“It’s Souta-san! Kumiko, he said he didn’t want to see me anymore!” Rika broke down into sobs, as Kumiko desperately tried to calm her down. After a few minutes she seemed to have succeeded, at least to a small degree.

“Okay Rika, listen. I have...” Kumiko scanned the desk, and cringed at the amount to paperwork still to be dealt with. “I have maybe 45 minutes, an hour at most, of work before I can close up shop here. On my way home, I’ll pick up something absolutely horrid for us, and some drinks, and we’ll eat at home and throw in a nicely violent movie. Just us two girls, okay?”

Rika sniffled softly on the line. “O-okay Kumiko. That sounds good. I-I’ll see you when you get home.” The line went dead as she hung up the phone.

With a deep sigh, Kumiko turned to the pile of mail waiting on one corner of the desk, sorely tempted to leave it until tomorrow morning. Something told her that her boss wouldn't be very appreciative of her "slacking off," even if, as far as her roommate was concerned, the world was ending. She pulled the stack over to her, and began to sort it out into piles. Junk. Bill. Junk. Junk. Request. Personal letter. She eyes glanced past a letter addressed to her, then snapped back to it as she recognized the return address. Nagoya3 television station. What did they want with her? Usually, anything regarding the theater was sent to Mr. Ozato, not her. She hesitated, almost tossed the letter in the bin, but curiosity got the better of her and she tore open the envelope and read the letter.

And read it again. And a third time. A faint smile crossed her lips, and her mouth moved slightly, reading the letter out loud. Please come to the main studio on...

She tucked the letter into her pocket, and rushed through the remaining mail. Less than twenty minutes later, she was on her way home, food and promised alcohol in hand. She had a few days until the meeting, tonight, she would deal with her roommate Rika's shattered heart. She walked up the narrow stairs to their apartment above a busy ramen shop, and pushed open the door.

"Rika, I'm home!"

* * *

"All right, who else?"

"The next one is easy. Fujibashi Toshi. Aspiring model; the chance to break into television is the kind of opportunity her agent has been drooling over getting for years. She won't think twice about it. But she might be a handful."

"Why's that?"

"Weeeell..."

* * *

Toshi groaned as the morning sun seeped under her eyelids. It was too early, and the feeling of silky sheets against bare skin was far too nice of a sensation to willingly leave it. She rolled over, away from the window, attempting to bury her head under a pillow. Her arm brushed against another warm body, which breathed a small moan of pleasure. Toshi opened her eyes, and stared into two beautiful grey eyes.

"Hello, you..." she breathed, closing in to plant a light kiss against his mouth, tongue slipping forward to dance across his lips. He pulled her close, and held her tight in an embrace. Her mind quickly ran through the events of the night before, clubbing in the Shibuya district. For the life of her, she couldn't remember the name of the very handsome boy, whose bed she apparently spent the night in. And oh what a night!

Her cell phone chimed insistently from the nearby nightstand, and she pulled herself away to answer it, eliciting a disappointed groan from whatever his name was. She ran her hand mindlessly through her long braids as she flipped open the phone

"Yes?"

"Toshi, I want you to come down to my office as soon as you can."

"Do you realize how early it is? I mean, seriously Kazuo!" Toshi whined.

"Yes. It's 11 am. Get down here."

"What makes you think you can order me around?"

"I'm your agent. And you really don't want to miss this opportunity. So say good-bye to whatever little boy-toy you've got with you, get your clothing back on, and get your adorable rear end down to my office in the first taxi you can catch." The line went silent, and Toshi clicked the phone shut with an annoyed huff. She turned back towards the bed, giving one last lingering gaze towards her unknown friend.

"Sorry. I have to go," she explained as she fastened her bra and pulled her dress over her head. "It was fun really, maybe we'll have to do it again sometime."

"Yeah. Call me?"

"Sure, sure," Toshi replied dismissively as she flipped her phone open. "What was your name again?"

* * *

"Definitely problematic. We'll just have to keep a very close eye on her. Who else?"

"Nishigawa Sinya, from Sapporo. Works as a bike messenger during the summer. Though....from what I hear, she's not long for that job. Complete space case."

* * *

"Look out!" Sinya swerved out of the way of speeding car, and directly into a sidewalk display outside the bookstore. Books and fliers flew everywhere. The car's horn blared as it zoomed past. Sinya barely noticed, as she scrambled to retrieve all the loose papers and put the table back in sorts.

"Clumsy girl!" the shopkeeper yelled as he came outside. "That's the third time this week!"

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Arasaka. It won't happen again, I promise!"

"You always promise. But it always happens again. Go back to your boss, girl. I'll take care of the mess."

Still spouting apologies and bowing repeatedly, Sinya retrieved her bike and headed back to the dispatch station. She had made her last delivery for the night, and it was time for her to go home. It didn't take long to get there, maybe ten minutes at most. She walked into the room nonchalantly, and was stopped dead in her tracks by a bellowing shout from her boss' office.

"NISHIGAWA! GET IN HERE, NOW!"

Her heart resided somewhere in the area of her stomach as she entered his office.

"Turn in your ID and your uniform, Nishigawa. I'm sick of apologizing every time your carelessness creates a disaster. You're fired."

"Please, Mr.-"

"Go home, Nishigawa. I don't want to see you anywhere near this building ever again."

"Yes, sir."

Five minutes alter, she was on her way home, walking her bike because she didn't feel like riding. She was too busy watching the pavement under her feet to notice the person walking towards her, until she walked straight into his outstretched hand. With a start, she looked up. A thin man, who could be mistaken for any other man in Japan, if it weren't for two startlingly blue eyes.

"Nishigawa Sinya? I am Fuushi Matsuo, from Nagoya3. Do you have a moment to talk?"

* * *

"So, you had Nikolai go track her down? Good. He'll do just fine. So that's three. What about the others? Iaonus' daughter was one...where is she at?"

"He'll be bringing Tsukai into town early next week. She's a huge fan of the Wings Squadron anime, so getting her to go along with being on the show will be easy." Thi Mai smiled slightly. "I've met her, she's absolutely adorable for thirteen years old. You might actually like her, Emeleth."

"I like all of these girls, Thi Mai. They're what stands between me and my utter destruction. That makes me incredibly fond of them."

"It makes you fond of your skin."

"I don't hear you complaining. Who else?"

"Well, there's Xhenren Jin. Absolutely brilliant. She came here on a student visa, but she doesn't want to go back to the motherland, apparently. She'll be looking for work once her visa expires, so this is our best chance."

"Isn't she a little young to be finishing up university?"

"Like I said, brilliant. The other is Ngai Seon-hwa."

"Sounds Korean."

"Fourth generation born in Japan. We weren't exactly in a position to be choosy when we were finding hosts, you'll recall."

"The director is going to have my skin if I put a chosen-jin on the cast."

"He'll get over it. She not half bad as an actress. Besides, wasn't Agent Venus in the anime from outside of Japan?"

"I'll make a point of that. So they are all coming to the studios?"

"They'll be here middle of next week."

Kuromi stood up, and brushed the wrinkles out of her suit. "Well then, I better get to work. There is a lot to prepare. You keep an eye out for signs of...her."

"Yes, Emeleth." Thi Mai bowed and walked out of the room.

Kuromi returned to gazing out the window at the nighttime city lights.