The Lonely Insect's Greeting
"Why'd you come out of there?"
As the iron bars slammed shut, the thing that had been thrashing wildly to escape whipped around.
No matter how it shook, yanked, or slashed with its razor-sharp claws, the pillar didn't even get scratched.
It let out a frustrated screech.
Finally admitting it couldn't break free on its own, it grabbed Arin by the throat and hoisted her up.
Arin couldn't make out the words, but she could guess the meaning from the guttural roar.
"Guhk... kkh... I... can't... get out... either..."
"Un... til the... others... come... let's... get along...?"
Whether it understood her words or not, instead of ripping her mouth open, it hurled her roughly into a corner.
It slashed at the bars a few more times, then slammed its head against the wall and huffed heavily.
"Ahem... yeah, right. Seems like it understands us. Probably?"
Arin plopped down on the floor, rubbing her throbbing neck.
Piero, materializing beside her, shared his thoughts on the insect-humanoid.
Arin nodded in agreement.
Piero tapped the bars, then turned to Arin, asking what they should do with it now.
"If possible, send it back where it came from... or isolate it, they said."
Arin answered absentmindedly, then turned to look at Piero.
Piero tilted his head, staring back.
"Whoa! Shit!"
Screaming, Arin jumped up and bolted to the opposite side of the bars.
She pointed at Piero, then froze, yelling at the insect-humanoid clinging to her in surprise.
"No, why are you freaking out!? Wait, more importantly—if it got startled... does that mean it wasn't some weak-minded hallucination I conjured up as a defense mechanism?! It was a real anomaly?!"
"I knew it wasn't a dream, but later I heard anomalies don't spawn inside other anomalies, so I figured it was a hallucination!"
Piero shrugged innocently, as if it wasn't his fault.
Arin pounded her chest in frustration and gently shoved away the insect-humanoid still gripping her arm.
"So why are you here... no, how'd you even get here?"
"Me? What about me?"
"What do you mean, 'still don't kn—'"
Just then, lights flickered from the maintenance passage across the way.
Arin glanced over for a split second—and Piero was gone.
A few hours later, the agents shoved it into a pristine white isolation room surrounded on all sides by walls.
Surprised by its unexpectedly docile behavior, they safetied their prepped firearms.
"This isolation room feels kinda like my bedroom."
"Your bedroom is an isolation room."
"I know. Damn it."
Separated by one-way reinforced glass, the Record Keeper finished typing and hit enter.
It announced they'd officially named it Split-Mouthed Woman, borrowing the provisional designation.
Then it stood, pulling a handkerchief from its pocket to wipe the lens of its camera-head.
"This record keeper has been informed that Arin conversed with this specimen. This record keeper wishes to confirm if that is true."
"'Conversed' is a stretch—it was mostly me talking one-sidedly, and it just acted like it understood...?"
"This record keeper requests a face-to-face with this specimen and Arin to obtain more detailed information on those grounds."
"No, you bitch?"
Moments later, Arin sat face-to-face with the Split-Mouthed Woman.
Well, Arin was sitting; the other clung to the ceiling, on guard.
In movies or dramas, untrained civilians sent in for negotiations usually get secret earpieces.
Arin just got a slapped-together question sheet.
She wanted to complain, but she'd accepted the job knowing this from the start.
She cleared her throat a few times and flipped to the first page.
Her throat got ripped out.
"Ah, damn it."
Arin clutched her neck, grimacing in annoyance, and glared at J.
J nodded sympathetically and handed her a sheet of paper.
"Spare questionnaire."
"...Sympathy my ass."
Grumbling, Arin re-entered the isolation room.
The Split-Mouthed Woman recognized her and backed away, sticking to the ceiling again.
"Fine. Send me back in 30 seconds?"
With a sigh and a plea to at least hear her out this time, Arin unfolded the sheet.
"Uh... so... if you understand speech, nod?"
Arin finished and looked up at the ceiling.
Silence from the Split-Mouthed Woman.
Arin glanced at the mirror where the others watched, scratched her head, and continued.
"Hmm, if you can't respond, they'll classify you as a non-negotiable beast and terminate you right away..."
As if testing the waters with a mumble, the woman finally nodded.
The next question came.
"We'll go with yes/no. Nod for yes, shake for no."
After some trial and error, conversation proceeded.
Outside, J and the Record Keeper monitored via camera.
Someone approached from behind.
Heavy, cumbersome gear covered them head to toe, but their lazy, unenthusiastic footsteps gave them away: Entry Team 4's leader, Alpha.
Alpha squeezed between them and stared intently at Arin wrestling with the questionnaire.
"Something wrong, Alpha?"
"Nah. Just watching."
"This one's a bit unique."
"Bugs don't interest me."
Alpha tapped the glass with a finger and continued.
"Actually... when can we use that bug? Want it for rookie training."
"Rules aren't set yet—gonna take a while. Even after, it'll be tough for training."
"Tch..."
Alpha clicked his tongue regretfully, then turned to leave—but paused at the door to tell J.
"Once this pointless interview's done, send the rookie underground."
"Got it."
"And... the rookie needs real combat. Not that last pansy anomaly where she just ran around—something she can actually fight."
The door shut, footsteps fading.
The Record Keeper, quietly tucked in the corner out of sight, finally exhaled.
"This record keeper has no desire to be dragged off again just because it's called an anomaly."
"Arin still has to go, though."
What felt like an eternity to some passed quickly.
They turned back to Arin and the woman—and doubted their eyes at the unexpected scene.
Grabbing the mic: "What... the hell is this?"
Their first meeting had started with her ripping Arin's mouth.
Second and third were the same.
Now, they were hugging, gently stroking each other.
"This record keeper wishes to retract that opinion."
"Yeah, looks like the woman's just unilaterally clinging to Arin."
'H-help!'
"This record keeper suggests rejecting this request as the atmosphere is positive—more efficient."
'I can hear you, you bitch!'
The entity dubbed Split-Mouthed Woman by the Anomaly Response and Management Agency was in a situation much like Arin's.
She'd lived ordinarily in her world until suddenly waking up here one day.
Terror and despair from being ripped from her swarm and dropped alone.
Hiding, she spotted some creatures: humans.
Just as people mistook her for human-like, she mistook these humans for her own kin.
Approaching with joy, she greeted them naturally.
Tragedy: their greeting meant death here.
"So ripping mouths was just a hello?"
"See how her jaw's double-layered, like a grasshopper's? The front splits open—that's their greeting, barely parting it."
"How'd you even figure that out?"
"Piero translated."
"...Piero?"
The greeted human died in agony and terror, naturally.
But she couldn't comprehend.
Why the bleeding after a simple hello?
Where was their tough exoskeleton—why only this fragile skin?
Why didn't they return after greeting?
And why no sign of her swarm here?
All incomprehensible.
"When Entry Team tried securing her, you saw—she's insanely tough, doesn't die from that much blood loss. From her view, everyone who got her hello just ignored her."
Arin nodded vigorously, imagining she'd be wrecked too if alone in a world where everyone ghosts you.
She pried off the woman gnawing her head.
"So why's she clinging to you now?"
"I took her hello and came back, didn't I? Seems once a day is enough."
"Huh. And this Piero you mentioned?"
"Piero's been here the wh—where'd he go now?"
J and the Record Keeper exchanged looks at Arin's description, shaking their heads.
The woman was dangerous but lacked malice, and communication worked.
They decided on proper isolation and rule establishment.
Back in her room—er, cell—Arin dove onto the bed.
"Maybe add some decor? Thinking of it as isolation makes it look like one."
No outings from the Agency despite fake-ID bank deposits of salary and hazard pay.
Time for hobbies, she thought, closing her eyes.
Hard work deserves rest to recover.
She drifted off imagining decorating to her taste—but Entry Team burst in, dragging her underground.
A week later—or a felt month—mentally exhausted Arin returned.
J sat on her bed, rifling papers, waiting.
Arin waved weakly.
"You're back."
"Yeeeah..."
J packed the papers into a bag, tossed her an energy drink.
"Good news: food and drinks with established production methods work fine here—full flavor and effect."
"That's... nice, yeah..."
Arin cracked the can, sipped.
"You didn't come just for this, right?"
J nodded affirmatively.
"Split-Mouthed Woman's cooperating well—rules set quickly."
"Gotcha..."
"But no way to send her home, so permanent isolation here."
"Gotcha..."
"She's cooperative now, but prolonged isolation builds stress. You're handling that."
"Gotcha......... Wait, what?"
Arin snapped alert, eyes wide, staring questioningly.
J shrugged casually.
"Only one person she can consistently greet right now."
Once a week suffices, no daily needed, he said, patting her shoulder.
"Management'll brief details."
He left.
"...Shut up—that makes me sound friendless."
Arin handed the half-can to curious Piero, then face-planted on the bed, hugging a pillow with a long sigh.
"Gimme a day off..."