[fic] Eyes (1/2) | Irie-centric, PG
this is sort of a companion piece to Hands and Hearts. i'm sorry if this is boring... this is all in head tone, so it's probably going to sound overly mental technical.
IIRC half_sleeping was the one who first brought up the idea of a set-up being the main reason why irie hates the vongola ♥ i'm only expounding on it a bit here.
there are notes at the bottom, but BEWARE OF SPOILERS. the whole batshit scenario was made up by me, but this is STILL not a fic to be read if you aren't familiar with the 10yl arc yet. please tread with caution.
Eyes
A proposal was recently published in the World Scientist, an exclusive journal that all science colleges worth their salt subscribed to. In this, 21-year-old Japanese prodigy Irie Shouichi put forth the idea of mechanical eyes.
Eyes that could trap human souls inside them.
The academia was in shock. Irie Shouichi was fresh out of university - even if his experiments in robotics had called attention to his talents, no one had ever suspected that he was in fact as brilliant as this.
How could a child like this have drawn up such an ambitious scheme, and such flawless equations? More important, what did he intend to do with it?
Irie promised nothing, revealed nothing of his plans. He only said that the project was already being developed by himself and a few close friends.
And that it was called the Millefiore device.
The device could be modified. It could be altered to perform many different functions. But this was what Irie claimed the prototype could do: it could store a million souls. First it would reduce the human consciousness into a series of electronic signals, then file those signals away in microscopic storage cells inside the brain, which would allow the bearer of the optical implant to instantly modify whatever data was stored in them. This meant memories, secrets, dreams, and - if the device was perfectly set up, even gene-locked energy. Such as the dying will flame.
When the soul was returned to the body, the body adopted the modifications made to the soul. This would put the bearer of the device in the position of "puppetmaster," able to reprogram the movements and thoughts of other people - a million other people, to be precise.
The whispers grew into talk. Talk grew into uproar. News outfits started picking up on the info and moral debates ensued everywhere in the world, about the implications of having a device like this placed in the wrong hands.
This was how Irie Shouichi was thrust into the spotlight.
On Irie's end, the meetings, symposia and late-night parties never ended. Offers for exclusive rights to develop his formula poured in from everywhere.
There were also offers to recruit Irie and his research team (a bunch of friends he met in various scientific conventions - including an eccentric young inventor named Spanner, who coordinated with them from his home base in Italy) into high-paying positions in private and government R&D outfits.
"We're in the big leagues now, aren't we?" one of Irie's friends slurred over his third glass of beer. Takamiya was such a lightweight, two glasses of beer already messed with his coherence.
"Not until someone tries to kill us," another of his friends laughingly replied. Sanada was always the cynic; it made her invaluable to the team. "You know it's only a matter of time."
Maybe it was, Irie told himself. But who would be stupid enough to push through with it? With knowledge so powerful at their hands, none of them was expendable. They were young and indestructible, and they had every right to enjoy the fruits of their labors.
They could not be harmed. Everyone wanted what they had created - cybernetics research specialists, heads of state, corporate bigwigs, religious leaders.
And mafia dons.
Irie made it a point to hide from all of them. It was partly arrogance, and partly his annoyance at being disturbed. He thought he had set up all the electronic blocks that would make him disappear off the face of the earth for the time he needed to work on the Millefiore device.
But in the middle of the night, his cell phone rang.
It was an extremely secure line. Only his coworker-friends knew the number, and they could only reach him through their own secure lines. The signals were specially encrypted so as not to be tapped or traced by outside parties.
The number reflected on the phone screen was one he did not recognize.
There was nothing for Irie to do but take the call.
"Irie Shouichi?" the voice on the other end of the line said. It was a generic male voice, hesitant and respectful - it might have belonged to someone young. Perhaps the voice was even familiar... Irie couldn't be sure.
"Who is this?" he demanded.
"I'm... I'm a representative of the Vongola family."
The Vongola family...? Where had he heard that name before? "How did you get this number? You shouldn't have been able to reach me here!"
"Our hacker was able to punch a hole in your static block. It'll only last for a minute." The young man on the other end of the line might have sounded nice enough, but he also sounded like he was in a hurry. "I don't have time to explain. But you're not easy to get hold of, and this is important."
Irie took a deep breath to calm himself down. "Go on. What is it."
"We must ask you to abandon your research on the Millefiore device."
"What?" Irie's hand gripped his cell phone more tightly. "I don't understand..."
The caller asked him if he knew about the Estraneo family. Irie shook his head as he said no. He felt this was something he wouldn't want to hear.
He was right.
The caller then spoke about the Estraneo family - an old mafia line that built its fortune on the manufacture and trading of bioweaponry. But the Estraneo's passion for discovery turned into a mad ambition, and they began to employ inhumane experimentation methods in order to develop powerful but taboo creations.
"I don't understand," Irie interrupted. "What does this have to do with me?"
"Because they refused to give up their research, the Estraneo were wiped out," the caller said, without reluctance now, "by another mafia family."
Irie's blood turned cold. "Is this - " He began to shout into the phone. "Are you threatening me?"
"I... I'm asking you to be careful. A lot of people want your device - and some will do whatever it takes to get it. This is for your own safety."
"Do you think I'm stupid?" Irie decided not to hold back. If this was an intimidation tactic, it was failing miserably. "I see what you're up to. You're telling me to abandon my research, but what you're really saying is if I don't hand over my research to you, you'll kill me." He smirked. "You can't get to me. You don't even know where I am. So spare me your empty threats."
"Irie! You don't get it. Listen!" The note of desperation in the other person's voice could very well have been faked, and knowing it only infuriated Irie.
"Don't be so familiar with me."
"If we can only talk - "
The call was dropped.
One minute - this was the longest amount of time the Vongola hacker could manage, before Irie's static block repaired itself, and double-wove new layers that would make a repeat contact damn near impossible.
Nonetheless, there were two more calls in the next few days. Irie did not pick up; he may not recognize the new numbers, but he did not want to risk further contact with the Vongola. The next call may be traced - he sincerely hoped that this "Vongola family," whoever they were, did not think he was stupid enough to let that happen.
Soon after that incident, Irie Shouichi was asked to deliver a talk on robotics at an American university, as the sole credited inventor of the Millefiore device.
That was when he received a frantic call from Takamiya on his secure line.
"Sanada and Midoriyama have been murdered." Takamiya could hardly speak. Irie knew it wasn't because of alcohol this time.
All the information Takamiya was able to spare was that their friends' killer/s left no trace that would reveal their identity, or how they were able to track down where Sanada and Midoriyama lived.
Their rooms were searched through and it seemed that all their research data was stolen.
"Bad" was not strong enough a word to describe this situation. Irie and his friends had been confident that their information blocks were iron-clad. No one should have been able to gather so much information on them, much less reach them to confirm their existence. The only time someone did was -
- No. Irie should not tell Takamiya about the Vongola's successful attempt to contact him only a few days ago. Not with Takamiya in this state.
"They might want to understand how we developed the Millefiore device," Irie mused aloud. "But that doesn't make sense... if they did, they should have kidnapped Sanada and Midoriyama, not killed them!" He suddenly realized his hands were shaking. He had quite possibly lost control of how fast his heart was beating, and that on its own frightened him. "Takamiya... what should we do?"
"I don't know. I don't know." Takamiya's sobs mangled his words. "Why is this happening?"
There was little Irie could do or say to comfort Takamiya. At this moment, they needed to calm down enough to formulate a plan.
Irie decided he was taking the next plane back to Japan. He and Takamiya were to meet at such and such a place, at such and such a time, so that they could brainstorm about their next step. In the meantime they were not to contact their family or loved ones, lest they too would be placed in the murderers' sights.
Irie could tell no one about what happened. He did not know whom he could trust. If it was true that he and his friends were being targeted, the best course of action, he figured, was to disappear as quickly and as thoroughly as possible.
On the way to the airport, Irie thought he saw people observing him at every corner. He couldn't sleep on the plane, and feared that every stranger was watching him somehow without looking at him.
In Japan, he checked into a seedy hotel, where he believed his anonymity was assured. Then, carrying nothing but his cell phone, he proceeded straight to his meeting place with Takamiya.
He tried calling Takamiya on their secure line. There was no answer.
Finally, he reached their rendezvous point. The 24-hour diner was quiet, fairly deserted at 4 AM, and not somewhere he and his friends frequented, which made it an ideal meeting place.
Irie stopped trying to contact his friend and waited.
He was falling asleep in his seat when something was dropped onto the table in front of him. He woke with a shout, startling the girl behind the counter - but when he jumped to his feet and looked around, he saw he was still the only patron there.
Cautiously, he picked up the thing that was dropped on the table. It was a section of the early morning newspaper. Among the headlines, he read:
THIRD MILLEFIORE RESEARCHER MURDERED
There was a photo of Takamiya Akira, age 21, cropped from an awarding ceremony he had attended only a few months ago. The murder, the brief and rushed report said, occurred at around 9:30 PM last night. The body was discovered at 10 PM, when a person living in the same apartment noticed Takamiya's door was open, and wandered in.
There were no signs of a struggle, although some drawers were rummaged through and some things were taken - similar to what happened with the young researchers Sanada and Midoriyama only less than 24 hours ago. The investigators concluded from the half-filled suitcases that Takamiya was getting ready for an out-of-town trip, when the killer walked in.
It was a quick and quiet assassination: a bullet hole to the head. Takamiya had died instantly. There was blood all over the floor.
The paper dropped from Irie's hand. He stumbled to the counter, to the night shift waitress looking at him with alarm.
"Was there - Did someone - " His mouth was dry and couldn't form the words. He began again, more carefully: "Was anyone here. Just now. With that newspaper."
"Yes," she warily answered, "a tall man. I don't think I saw him enter, but I saw him leave. He just dropped that paper off and walked out.."
Though his knees were shaking by this time, Irie staggered out the door. There was, as he expected, no one in sight.
So he ran, ran as fast as he could.
What else was there for him to do?
He wasn't thinking anymore. He didn't know where to go or what he should do next.
His friends were dead.
His friends were dead.
And Irie could only think of one group of people who would do something like this.
(tbc)
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
i've had this theory of the "round machine" in my head for a while now, but four things led me to actually writing this out:
1) look closely at the round machine in the anime (ep 96, 18 mins and 30 seconds in - thanks to kye_kestrel for the exact location ♥). [screencap 1] [screencap 2] kinda looks like an eye, dunnit?
2) in chapter 202, 10yl!hibari said to genkishi: "did you just get that white round machine installed?" perhaps the japanese text can give more insight on what hibari meant, but for the purpose of this fic, i took "install" to mean "implant."
3) in the anime, mukuro showed the eye-like device to chrome in her dreams, and when chrome reached out to it, she asked "why are you in here?"
note also that mukuro's "evil eye" was mysteriously damaged in his fight with byakuran, but there was no weapon at hand which would explain how mukuro's eye was hurt.
this was initially the LASER BEAM OUTTA BYAKURAN'S EYE theory, but since chrome asked "why are you in here?" it evolved into the even more ridiculous "byakuran has sucked mukuro into his iris" theory.
(edited to add: the round machine that harmed mukuro could be the jewel in byakuran's mare ring: THIS IS ALSO VERY POSSIBLE. it would still make sense that genkishi has one, because he wields the Mist Mare ring. however, the eye theory is much crackier.)
4) the latest chapter spoilers, bb. genkishi was spewing illusions out of his eyes (and mouth?) and i had to write this out before canon could prove me 100% crazy.
if #2 is in effect, and genkishi has the "white round machine" implanted in him as well, perhaps the device works in tandem with the hell ring and therefore does NOT have the same effect as byakuran's round device (presuming byakuran has a round device. in this fic, i'm saying that he does.)
♥
please don't send me back to the white padded room.
part 2 is here.
IIRC half_sleeping was the one who first brought up the idea of a set-up being the main reason why irie hates the vongola ♥ i'm only expounding on it a bit here.
there are notes at the bottom, but BEWARE OF SPOILERS. the whole batshit scenario was made up by me, but this is STILL not a fic to be read if you aren't familiar with the 10yl arc yet. please tread with caution.
Eyes
A proposal was recently published in the World Scientist, an exclusive journal that all science colleges worth their salt subscribed to. In this, 21-year-old Japanese prodigy Irie Shouichi put forth the idea of mechanical eyes.
Eyes that could trap human souls inside them.
The academia was in shock. Irie Shouichi was fresh out of university - even if his experiments in robotics had called attention to his talents, no one had ever suspected that he was in fact as brilliant as this.
How could a child like this have drawn up such an ambitious scheme, and such flawless equations? More important, what did he intend to do with it?
Irie promised nothing, revealed nothing of his plans. He only said that the project was already being developed by himself and a few close friends.
And that it was called the Millefiore device.
The device could be modified. It could be altered to perform many different functions. But this was what Irie claimed the prototype could do: it could store a million souls. First it would reduce the human consciousness into a series of electronic signals, then file those signals away in microscopic storage cells inside the brain, which would allow the bearer of the optical implant to instantly modify whatever data was stored in them. This meant memories, secrets, dreams, and - if the device was perfectly set up, even gene-locked energy. Such as the dying will flame.
When the soul was returned to the body, the body adopted the modifications made to the soul. This would put the bearer of the device in the position of "puppetmaster," able to reprogram the movements and thoughts of other people - a million other people, to be precise.
The whispers grew into talk. Talk grew into uproar. News outfits started picking up on the info and moral debates ensued everywhere in the world, about the implications of having a device like this placed in the wrong hands.
This was how Irie Shouichi was thrust into the spotlight.
On Irie's end, the meetings, symposia and late-night parties never ended. Offers for exclusive rights to develop his formula poured in from everywhere.
There were also offers to recruit Irie and his research team (a bunch of friends he met in various scientific conventions - including an eccentric young inventor named Spanner, who coordinated with them from his home base in Italy) into high-paying positions in private and government R&D outfits.
"We're in the big leagues now, aren't we?" one of Irie's friends slurred over his third glass of beer. Takamiya was such a lightweight, two glasses of beer already messed with his coherence.
"Not until someone tries to kill us," another of his friends laughingly replied. Sanada was always the cynic; it made her invaluable to the team. "You know it's only a matter of time."
Maybe it was, Irie told himself. But who would be stupid enough to push through with it? With knowledge so powerful at their hands, none of them was expendable. They were young and indestructible, and they had every right to enjoy the fruits of their labors.
They could not be harmed. Everyone wanted what they had created - cybernetics research specialists, heads of state, corporate bigwigs, religious leaders.
And mafia dons.
Irie made it a point to hide from all of them. It was partly arrogance, and partly his annoyance at being disturbed. He thought he had set up all the electronic blocks that would make him disappear off the face of the earth for the time he needed to work on the Millefiore device.
But in the middle of the night, his cell phone rang.
It was an extremely secure line. Only his coworker-friends knew the number, and they could only reach him through their own secure lines. The signals were specially encrypted so as not to be tapped or traced by outside parties.
The number reflected on the phone screen was one he did not recognize.
There was nothing for Irie to do but take the call.
"Irie Shouichi?" the voice on the other end of the line said. It was a generic male voice, hesitant and respectful - it might have belonged to someone young. Perhaps the voice was even familiar... Irie couldn't be sure.
"Who is this?" he demanded.
"I'm... I'm a representative of the Vongola family."
The Vongola family...? Where had he heard that name before? "How did you get this number? You shouldn't have been able to reach me here!"
"Our hacker was able to punch a hole in your static block. It'll only last for a minute." The young man on the other end of the line might have sounded nice enough, but he also sounded like he was in a hurry. "I don't have time to explain. But you're not easy to get hold of, and this is important."
Irie took a deep breath to calm himself down. "Go on. What is it."
"We must ask you to abandon your research on the Millefiore device."
"What?" Irie's hand gripped his cell phone more tightly. "I don't understand..."
The caller asked him if he knew about the Estraneo family. Irie shook his head as he said no. He felt this was something he wouldn't want to hear.
He was right.
The caller then spoke about the Estraneo family - an old mafia line that built its fortune on the manufacture and trading of bioweaponry. But the Estraneo's passion for discovery turned into a mad ambition, and they began to employ inhumane experimentation methods in order to develop powerful but taboo creations.
"I don't understand," Irie interrupted. "What does this have to do with me?"
"Because they refused to give up their research, the Estraneo were wiped out," the caller said, without reluctance now, "by another mafia family."
Irie's blood turned cold. "Is this - " He began to shout into the phone. "Are you threatening me?"
"I... I'm asking you to be careful. A lot of people want your device - and some will do whatever it takes to get it. This is for your own safety."
"Do you think I'm stupid?" Irie decided not to hold back. If this was an intimidation tactic, it was failing miserably. "I see what you're up to. You're telling me to abandon my research, but what you're really saying is if I don't hand over my research to you, you'll kill me." He smirked. "You can't get to me. You don't even know where I am. So spare me your empty threats."
"Irie! You don't get it. Listen!" The note of desperation in the other person's voice could very well have been faked, and knowing it only infuriated Irie.
"Don't be so familiar with me."
"If we can only talk - "
The call was dropped.
One minute - this was the longest amount of time the Vongola hacker could manage, before Irie's static block repaired itself, and double-wove new layers that would make a repeat contact damn near impossible.
Nonetheless, there were two more calls in the next few days. Irie did not pick up; he may not recognize the new numbers, but he did not want to risk further contact with the Vongola. The next call may be traced - he sincerely hoped that this "Vongola family," whoever they were, did not think he was stupid enough to let that happen.
Soon after that incident, Irie Shouichi was asked to deliver a talk on robotics at an American university, as the sole credited inventor of the Millefiore device.
That was when he received a frantic call from Takamiya on his secure line.
"Sanada and Midoriyama have been murdered." Takamiya could hardly speak. Irie knew it wasn't because of alcohol this time.
All the information Takamiya was able to spare was that their friends' killer/s left no trace that would reveal their identity, or how they were able to track down where Sanada and Midoriyama lived.
Their rooms were searched through and it seemed that all their research data was stolen.
"Bad" was not strong enough a word to describe this situation. Irie and his friends had been confident that their information blocks were iron-clad. No one should have been able to gather so much information on them, much less reach them to confirm their existence. The only time someone did was -
- No. Irie should not tell Takamiya about the Vongola's successful attempt to contact him only a few days ago. Not with Takamiya in this state.
"They might want to understand how we developed the Millefiore device," Irie mused aloud. "But that doesn't make sense... if they did, they should have kidnapped Sanada and Midoriyama, not killed them!" He suddenly realized his hands were shaking. He had quite possibly lost control of how fast his heart was beating, and that on its own frightened him. "Takamiya... what should we do?"
"I don't know. I don't know." Takamiya's sobs mangled his words. "Why is this happening?"
There was little Irie could do or say to comfort Takamiya. At this moment, they needed to calm down enough to formulate a plan.
Irie decided he was taking the next plane back to Japan. He and Takamiya were to meet at such and such a place, at such and such a time, so that they could brainstorm about their next step. In the meantime they were not to contact their family or loved ones, lest they too would be placed in the murderers' sights.
Irie could tell no one about what happened. He did not know whom he could trust. If it was true that he and his friends were being targeted, the best course of action, he figured, was to disappear as quickly and as thoroughly as possible.
On the way to the airport, Irie thought he saw people observing him at every corner. He couldn't sleep on the plane, and feared that every stranger was watching him somehow without looking at him.
In Japan, he checked into a seedy hotel, where he believed his anonymity was assured. Then, carrying nothing but his cell phone, he proceeded straight to his meeting place with Takamiya.
He tried calling Takamiya on their secure line. There was no answer.
Finally, he reached their rendezvous point. The 24-hour diner was quiet, fairly deserted at 4 AM, and not somewhere he and his friends frequented, which made it an ideal meeting place.
Irie stopped trying to contact his friend and waited.
He was falling asleep in his seat when something was dropped onto the table in front of him. He woke with a shout, startling the girl behind the counter - but when he jumped to his feet and looked around, he saw he was still the only patron there.
Cautiously, he picked up the thing that was dropped on the table. It was a section of the early morning newspaper. Among the headlines, he read:
THIRD MILLEFIORE RESEARCHER MURDERED
There was a photo of Takamiya Akira, age 21, cropped from an awarding ceremony he had attended only a few months ago. The murder, the brief and rushed report said, occurred at around 9:30 PM last night. The body was discovered at 10 PM, when a person living in the same apartment noticed Takamiya's door was open, and wandered in.
There were no signs of a struggle, although some drawers were rummaged through and some things were taken - similar to what happened with the young researchers Sanada and Midoriyama only less than 24 hours ago. The investigators concluded from the half-filled suitcases that Takamiya was getting ready for an out-of-town trip, when the killer walked in.
It was a quick and quiet assassination: a bullet hole to the head. Takamiya had died instantly. There was blood all over the floor.
The paper dropped from Irie's hand. He stumbled to the counter, to the night shift waitress looking at him with alarm.
"Was there - Did someone - " His mouth was dry and couldn't form the words. He began again, more carefully: "Was anyone here. Just now. With that newspaper."
"Yes," she warily answered, "a tall man. I don't think I saw him enter, but I saw him leave. He just dropped that paper off and walked out.."
Though his knees were shaking by this time, Irie staggered out the door. There was, as he expected, no one in sight.
So he ran, ran as fast as he could.
What else was there for him to do?
He wasn't thinking anymore. He didn't know where to go or what he should do next.
His friends were dead.
His friends were dead.
And Irie could only think of one group of people who would do something like this.
(tbc)
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
i've had this theory of the "round machine" in my head for a while now, but four things led me to actually writing this out:
1) look closely at the round machine in the anime (ep 96, 18 mins and 30 seconds in - thanks to kye_kestrel for the exact location ♥). [screencap 1] [screencap 2] kinda looks like an eye, dunnit?
![[screencap 1]](http://i7.photobucket.com/albums/y261/chemsun/reborn/eye1.jpg){kind=link}
![[screencap 2]](http://i7.photobucket.com/albums/y261/chemsun/reborn/eye2.jpg){kind=link}
2) in chapter 202, 10yl!hibari said to genkishi: "did you just get that white round machine installed?" perhaps the japanese text can give more insight on what hibari meant, but for the purpose of this fic, i took "install" to mean "implant."
3) in the anime, mukuro showed the eye-like device to chrome in her dreams, and when chrome reached out to it, she asked "why are you in here?"
note also that mukuro's "evil eye" was mysteriously damaged in his fight with byakuran, but there was no weapon at hand which would explain how mukuro's eye was hurt.
this was initially the LASER BEAM OUTTA BYAKURAN'S EYE theory, but since chrome asked "why are you in here?" it evolved into the even more ridiculous "byakuran has sucked mukuro into his iris" theory.
(edited to add: the round machine that harmed mukuro could be the jewel in byakuran's mare ring: THIS IS ALSO VERY POSSIBLE. it would still make sense that genkishi has one, because he wields the Mist Mare ring. however, the eye theory is much crackier.)
4) the latest chapter spoilers, bb. genkishi was spewing illusions out of his eyes (and mouth?) and i had to write this out before canon could prove me 100% crazy.
if #2 is in effect, and genkishi has the "white round machine" implanted in him as well, perhaps the device works in tandem with the hell ring and therefore does NOT have the same effect as byakuran's round device (presuming byakuran has a round device. in this fic, i'm saying that he does.)
♥
please don't send me back to the white padded room.
part 2 is here.