There’s about as much fic for Keitai Sousakan 7 as there is for the rest of my toku fandoms, which is to say not much. So I decided to write another fic….

by Estirose
c 2008

Keita thought he would never finish the day.

Anchor seemed to alternate between sending him on solo missions and sending him with Kirihara, who was less than enthused to have him jobshadowing. Well, it wasn’t his fault! He wasn’t the one who gave the orders. He was still a trainee, an apprentice, Seven’s buddy-to-be. Nevermind that he carried his ‘buddy’ at his side all day, every day, in a cellphone case secured at his belt. The only time he didn’t was when he was at home, where Seven played the role of a regular cellphone on his charger.

Today had been one of his solo missions, where he’d had to sneak into a bank. And not just into the bank, but the secure areas, to keep an eye out for things while Seven worked. It wasn’t like he knew much about computers or programming anyway, though he was learning to type.

And he was learning to run. Funny how a rogue sentient cellphone and its temporary ‘buddies’ trying to kill him did wonders to his endurance. He’d started jogging when he had time, just to increase how far he could run, just so that he wouldn’t die.

Dying was a real possibility in his job. He’d seen Takimoto die, saw Kirihara wounded, been shot at, gassed, and attacked. The wound from Zero-one’s saw had just healed recently, and he had other injuries as well. If it hadn’t been for Takimoto’s words, the possibility that he’d make a difference, he would have just turned Seven back to Anchor weeks before.

He’d not been shot at this time, but it had been close, and the fact that he was able to get back out was a minor miracle. “That was too close,” he said, while trying to seem as inconspicuous and uninteresting as possible on his walk home. Someday, the police were going to catch him being somewhere he shouldn’t be, especially that cop who thrived on the “walking cellphone” rumor, and he would be out of luck, in prison, with his family wondering what had gone wrong. And Anchor would have to rescue Seven and clean up the mess.

“Agreed, Trainee,” Seven said. Keita made a face at the title. Seven had no problems talking back to his human partner. But at least he didn’t make a comment on how to improve, or that Keita needed to approve. Maybe Keita was getting closer to full agent; he could always dream.

In the meantime, all he had to do was keep the secret from his family and those around him, and he’d be all right. Even if it meant coming up with new reasons why he was coming home bruised and battered. But he could handle that.

He turned up the music on his iPod and went home.