II - FOR THE ONE YOU LOVE (Doraemon Reimagination Series)

10 - THE LADY IN WHITE

"Where are we?"
"At the gear room. It's like a storehouse of weapons, clothes, and stuff. Haven't you noticed something?"
"Noticed what?" Nobita turned round to look at his newly made acquaintance.
"C'mon seriously?! Don't tell me you didn't notice my dress - what I'm wearing I mean?"

Nobita looked up to down once, glancing over his wear. He was wearing a loose half-sleeved white shirt that extended way below his waist, a brown belt around his waist, and a pair of loose pants below, constricted at the end with the long boots over.

"Yes, I did notice it before. You have terrible fashion sense," commented Nobita.

An angry Kiyoshi barked at him, "That's not it. This is the dress that Lord Zuken instructs us to wear. It's like a uniform around here."
"So?"
"Are you stupid or something?" Kiyoshi rebuked. Nobita scowled at him.
"So... it means that the ones not wearing dresses like these are intruders. Everyone working under Zuken here has a sort of medieval outfit on. This means, if an intruder dresses up like one of us, it will deflect suspicion. That is why I brought you here."

"I see. But I don't think that Cash can never not recognize me--no matter what I'm wearing."

"Don't worry! You can definitely blend in. Zuken has a lot of followers under him, scattered everywhere around. Many of them are here, and few of them are even outside. He doesn't remember all of their faces and names individually. So, you can chill, Nobita."

"It's not a matter of knowing you guys, Kiyo--I mean his followers. It's about knowing me specifically, and my friends. what we did to him, I don't think he can ever ward off our faces and names from his mind," justified Nobita.

"Jeez! What did you do to him?"
"It's personal....and a very long story at that."
Kiyoshi nodded his head, "Okay, but do you think you can blend in with the crowd?" Nobita shot him an interrogatory look. "I mean can you, like, get mistaken as one of Zuken's men among Zuken's men? 'Cause, it's not like you can just waltz up to Lord Zuken in one go. Even I haven't seen Lord Zuken myself with my own eyes, except the one time when I was first brought in here."

"Are you serious?"
"Yes, I'm serious. It's not easy to get to Zuken. Trust me. You will have to face his followers first. He's always the one pulling the strings from behind the curtains."
"Like a puppeteer--" said Nobita furiously, "he has always been that type."

"Well, then your easiest way in is getting everyone fooled into believing that you are one of them. Maybe then you can crawl your way through the hierarchy and finally find yourself before Lord Zuken," suggested Kiyoshi, "What do you think? Will it work for you?"

Nobita replied thoughtfully, "I think it will. Blending in among the other residents here and fooling them into thinking that I am one of them can be done, if we are not considering Cash."
"We are not considering Cash," reassured Kiyoshi confidently.
"Then this will work," asserted Nobita, "Because if there is one thing I'm sure of, it's that we'd caught all of Cash's men the last time our paths crossed. Only Cash was the one who managed to get away. So, there is no one other than Cash who can recognize us. I guess we're set."

"That's great," replied Kiyoshi, "Now, stay here. Don't make a noise, okay? Since I'm already one of them, I'll go in and get you something to wear."
"Are you sure it's okay?" Nobita asked nervously.
"Of course, this isn't dangerous at all. No one knows I was planning to escape. Besides, most of these are birdbrains anyway. Don't worry! It's a piece of cake. Wait here until I get back, 'kay?"

Nobita nodded his head. Kiyoshi left him behind, heading towards the guards standing outside the wooden door of the room.....

It was a dark room, dimly lit by candles and small bulbs all around. At one corner of the room sat a figure, writing something on the table. A pen and notepad at hand, a lady with fairly long black hair, hanging down as silky freckles down her cheeks. She was dressed in a soft white garment, like a long frock, touching the ground, a pair of floral bangles around her wrists, and a flower tiara over her head.
Resting her face on her left hand, and writing with her right, she calmly penned down her thoughts on the piece of paper before her as elegantly as she could. After a long half an hour of focused brain dumping onto the white paper, she neatly folded it and turned.