i want final

She’d expected more of a fight, honestly- at least a bit more in response to her gift-based accusations than just rolling over and taking it, diversion into horse tranquilliser or otherwise. But here they were now: Sienna had come clean with possibly too much detail to just be covering for someone else, and her entire line of questioning about gifts had fallen aside to other people’s claims- save for sticking her tongue out childishly at Jean’s admittance of a test, that was. 

Emiko had other distractions to be too pissed off, anyway. 

Because just for a second, just for one careless second as Sienna spoke, she’d put herself in the position of their found killer; this motive baring down on her from many angles she was probably yet to discover herself. Perhaps Emiko herself knew she faced the human side of that particular fence she sat on, but every single beat of her heart pushed a reminder of the supernatural side through her veins- hell, the early days had felt familiar to her.

(And spend a couple seconds more in Sienna’s place, the thought became more self aware- a position that symbolised one of Emiko’s nightmare scenarios, even if the culprit in that particular case was thankfully a whole world away probably trying to get in contact-)

Emiko brought her re-bandaged hands to her face, scrunching into fists against her forehead in a gesture of barely contained frustration. 

“…What, should I be flattered you didn’t pick me? Even if I seemed totally normal human when you started all this plannin’?”

It was a reflexive snap to Sienna, really; one that didn’t carry any weight outside of Emiko not knowing what to do with herself. Outside of possibly asking Ein for that bottle if Sienna didn’t take him up on it. 

(If she’d just managed to find something, anything against Nam at that perfect timing-)

“…Don’t you remember last time, Jean? That attempt at a punishment they tried when we voted wrong last time that failed for some fuckin’ reason? Yeah, I get the feelin’ they won’t be so clumsy again. The way I see it, we either vote Sienna and she gets this punishment, or we… I dunno, throw it on somethin’ stupid and someone else has to take the fall. Maybe even all of us." 

One hand dragged down her face. 

”’M sorry, I get what you’re sayin’, all the regrets and that. But I have to vote for Sienna. Human pushed into this place or otherwise, all this shit we’re bein’ forced into, I can’t let someone innocent get used for this. If we gotta take part.“ 

A beat. 

And then Emiko looked up again, eyes blazing with the same kind of fury that had been seen in so many of her fights recently.

Though Jean and the frankly ridiculous amount of guns on his person was spared a look.

”-Unless we try and get Sienna out and away from a punishment now.“

(Was it betraying Nines, maybe, to try and spare their killer from being made a possibly horrific example of? Throwing away their almost casual links of aid they’d made throughout their joint stay here?)

“Uh, thanks- wait, were you testin’ me or somethin’?”

How else was she meant to respond to ‘atta girl’, anyway? 

She sounded less pissed off than normal, though- almost a shame it didn’t last much longer after Sienna’s demonstration of her gift, Emiko’s eyes narrowing to bat back the response she was offered.

“That’s not gonna be enough for me, unless you’ve got an argument as to why bein’ able to make things louder alone would be worthy of a gift for this kinda situation. Hearin’ a lot here, but there’s no real proof right about now.”

But even around all the further accusations that only caused Emiko to look harsher in Sienna’s direction - with one bout of confusion, thanks to the apparently pressing introduction of horse tranquilliser - Emiko could also feel the conversation being adjacent to her; the odd glance her way was reminder enough of that. So she sighed, beginning to unwrap the bandages forever around her hands.

“…Jean kinda hit what I was gonna say, there’s a blurred line when it comes to the 'human’ factor here. For all intents and purposes, I’m human- even with what you caught me doin’ the other day. That’s… just a bit of magic on top of the human stuff.”

Someone sure still didn’t sound happy about revealing that aspect of her life. Her hands were still unwrapping themselves from their bandages- certainly seeming to have piled up from her usual over the course of the motive. 

“I guess we’re less lookin’ for no powers in human versus supernatural and more at least 'powers that wouldn’t completely take them outta action’. Like I’d feel pretty stupid expectin’ Ein to fire a gun when he could hardly keep his body together. I’ll say on my part, past that planned fight you guys ended up spectatin’, most of my motive time’s been spent- tryin’ to keep this from just bleedin’ me out all on its own." 

Her statement was punctuated with the final tug of bandages away from her palms, the strips of fabric noticeably getting bloodier the closer to her arm they got- until they were off, allowing Emiko to hold up her hands for the check. A good amount of dried blood down her right arm, stemming from what seemed to be a tattoo-like mark of an X on her palm, but nothing remotely resembling any of the gun marks being looked for. 

”…What, I kinda had other priorities than cleanin’ this up yet, I know. Normally I’ve got total control over this.“ 

That grumble aside, Emiko set about wrapping her hands back up- her words occasionally muffled as she wound up using her teeth to hold lengths of bandage in the pinnacle of multitasking.

“If the culprit was plannin’ to just sit down opposite Nines - hell, even just stand close to the booth and fire a couple off - why the hell would they need to start practicin’ shooting? It’s not like they gotta hit a fuckin’- I dunno, somethin’ racing about miles away or anything. If Nines didn’t suspect anythin’, they would just be sat there. So I guess out of all the options here, needin’ to get the hang of the gun somehow makes more sense than target practice." 

Even if the frustration was clear in Emiko’s voice, its exact direction was more of a struggle to determine, especially when it came to dragging a hand down her face. Still, something Samael hinted towards caught her attention rather than just continuing to stew in it, and she looked towards them with a hint of amusement. 

"Oh yeah, Samael, kinda looks like us takin’ care of that entity thing didn’t actually change much- the place still feels the shitty same. Given the manager’s attitude when we talked to the staff ourselves though, my bet’s on the staff either not knowin’ or not carin’. I guess someone walkin’ downstairs to play the crane machine covered in blood is a pretty normal sight- wait, why the fuck was that Yuki’s first instinct? Needed a new shirt before comin’ outside to grieve the dead one?”

But her questioning was light enough that even Emiko, lack of impulse control she held, realised that it was possibly the less important path right about now. She physically waved the question away with a hand, that sullen look falling back onto her face as she mulled over all else being said- until her eyes snapped back up and out across the room with an incredibly harsh stare.

One that bored into Sienna directly opposite.

Emiko hadn’t been seen much since her little endeavour against Nam.

(It had started as something familiar, after all, scarily so if she had ever actually stopped to think about it- or certainly at least when it tipped over the edge, ending in nothing but bandages and blood-)

So it was perhaps no surprise to see that on their ferried-in entrance to the trial room a serious point was being made against not acknowledging their host’s existence, her gaze sullen and firmly fixing on…

Well. Where she had expected an empty spot to be, perhaps, but instead came face to face once more with their previous victim of the week. 

Harshly out and across at the centre of the ring it was, then.

“Yeah, what… Samael said. Nines was shot at the fast food place presumably about 4:35pm, or whatever time it was stated they died. At 5pm though, they came wanderin’ on out covered in enough blood that the manager didn’t even want to come up with a better explanation than them spillin’ a drink. Guessin’ that was Yuki by that point.”

Speaking of Samael, their little address to the room at large had pulled an eyebrow raise from Emiko in disbelief, even if she hadn’t exactly gotten far with her tactic either.

“There’s two weird bits about this timin’ though- well, two and a bit, I guess. First is that this wasn’t the only time or place that a shootin’ with this gun took place- we found a bunch of bullet marks out by the Tollhouse, includin’ a bullet that matched the ones in the wall at - ugh - Mr Juicy’s. Thing is though, we talked to someone who reckoned they heard that bunch of gunshots a few days ago, even ignorin’ the fact that the Tollhouse is way away from where Nines presumably died not that long ago today." 

A huff of annoyance.

"Second thing’s- well, ’s kinda connected to the fact the only sign we could find of the killer leavin’ Mr Juicy’s - whether they thought Nines wasn’t gonna get back up again or whatever - was a receipt. No jumpin’ through skylights, no clear sneakin’ out the back entrance, no ditched gun, just that. Tailor’s receipt, takin’ in a Mr Juicy uniform to make it smaller- dated after this motive started. Kinda makes me wonder if the killer came in as an employee, of all things.”

For a moment it seemed Emiko was done, arms folded and in enough of a huff that it really seemed she might just go back to glaring at something or something with enough energy to prompt a nudge of ‘if looks could kill’. But something else dawned on her, eyes lighting up with a flash of challenge as they swept around the room.

A thin voice filters in.

“Well, Hashimoto, how are you finding the duel thus far? Show me what else you have.”

With that, Nam reappeared - they stood in a shirt and pants, both nicked and dusty, their coat dropped on the ground off to the side. There’s an inch of exhaustion present in their sagging posture, but they react enough to brandish their sword at Emiko. 

Emiko’s response is indistinct, though her attention seems split between them and the new cut to her bare arms. But she holds firm, only an ounce of hesitation before her hand slams into the ground. 

More blood pools there, but now it seems alive- shooting across the ground at her opponent and snaking off into two streams, making for their legs in a clear tug to close the gap between them again. 

One of Nam’s legs is grasped, as they pull the other away just in time. They allow themself to be dragged towards Emiko, pulling their sword up and pointing it directly at her as they go along. It’s an adaptation Emiko clearly didn’t plan for that she has to bail on, roughly letting Nam skid a little further along as she jumps aside from the reckless move, out of their path. 

So they were at range again, Emiko riled up too much to catch her breath properly from whatever indistinct words were spoken underneath the commotion of attacks and scraping dirt. 

There’s no sign of her letting up even now, though. 

One carmine knife forms with a flick of her wrist, thrown towards Nam- only to dissipate into smoke the moment it reaches their aura, nothing meaningful achieved apart from doubling the light’s brightness. Then another, vanished again in light that’s becoming searing enough to warp the air around the fight. 

Underneath which can be heard a pained but still angry Emiko. 

“-You can’t just be here FOREVER!” 

Her sword can be seen forced into her hand once more with the yell that follows, the two apparently having come to closer blows once more as Emiko swings her blade up in one large curve. 

Bringing it down towards Nam’s head. 

Making contact with the purple aura flaring around their halo goes about as well as last time - that is to say, the substance induces another shower of light that scatters about the area. They appear none-the worse for the wear despite their pupil ping-ponging slightly. 

And they counterattack. 

The brightest scattering of light yet once again appears to take Emiko’s weapon with it; unfortunate now it’s back in her hand. But rather than disappearing its form seems to be blown back on Emiko, whatever magical punch packed for her opponent spraying back onto her and toppling her over, onto the ground. 

Not that she appears done, even from there. Her fury remains, her hand clearly tries to call that weapon again. But her breaths are ragged and desperate to catch up, paled as her hand can do nothing except bleed around a shaky arm. 

Skeletal hosts, of course, have no such issues to worry about. 

They’re there. The blink of an eye later, Nam has their sword pointed directly at Emiko, who still appears prone. Despite their ostensible victory, they’re trembling and weary, the sword unable to be held entirely resolute. Something indistinct is said, and their head droops slightly.

Her attitude in comparison still seems far from resignation, glaring up the blade pointed to her even as she now cradles her fighting hand. However, though her words are also impossible to make out, they’re far from her earlier audible yells of rage and fighting effort- and eventually, the tension of the duel drops abruptly from her body. 

Conceding. 

A move she doesn’t seem thrilled appears to have been witnessed, however, as the end to the fight finally lets her catch sight of some of you spectators- expression tinged with exhaustion, but still the clear fury of ‘how long have you been there?’. 

A terrible din snapped you out of the motive-induced adrenaline rush of the past couple of days. Two, to be precise, since the onset. Those currently in the hotel were able to see it clearly - some manner of lightshow going on in Willow Park. Those closer could hear all manner of discord. 

Whatever it was, it was curious. Perhaps an investigation would be in short order - there were already those who were heading to and from the park, so you were at least in good company. The trip was undertaken without too much fuss, and you had a clearer picture formed of what was transpiring by the time you arrived. 

Unfortunately it looked to be one of the furthest things from a party possible. 

Emiko had long beaten you there, it seemed: squared up to fight in the middle of the clearing, arms bloodied and cut, breathing with the fury she sometimes seemed to barely contain on the best of days. But crucially, apparently weaponless, the picture only worsening as much as it explained what was happening- for she seemed to be facing Nam, aura strobing and sword brandished. 

If you made a move or comment, Emiko didn’t pay attention. Her glare was focused entirely on Nam, steeling herself and diving forward at her opponent in a move laced with practice- hand curving like she planned on a punch and hoping for the best.

But something began to swirl from her exposed palm.

As natural red as blood, spiralling out and solidifying into what was undoubtedly a sword of her own, formed just in time to complete her swing at Nam.

Your host didn’t appear to react much or even attempt to move at the action, instead allowing for the sword to drive ever closer and blow them back. In the process, the part of the sword that connects with their halo fizzles into a bright shower of light, scattering around the area. They have their own sword in hand, a scimitar-esque blade that they whip around and point at Emiko.

Something indistinct is said. 

The light being as bright as it was from a spectator’s distance, it surely affected Emiko’s reaction- her sword swirling away again just like that as she fell back, arm thrown over her eyes to spare herself too. But yet she was still ready to meet Nam’s offensive, planting her feet in the ground and throwing her hand out before her. 

And there was that blood red again, fanning out this time: a shield timed to your host’s returning strike, no response other than an indistinct yell in response.

Nam has rushed forward by this point, brandishing their sword. With a slight motion of their wrist, they saw the shield only too late and collided into it sidelong, disarticulating onto the ground and kicking up dust in the process. Their sword is thrust upward, and they then vanish from sight entirely. 

Not without catching Emiko in that final movement, however. Shield job done, that had been disappearing too- all the following motions too quick for Emiko to avoid taking a hit. What appeared much more like blood splattered to the ground where her shield had been, a move frustrating enough to provoke Emiko into an angry, loud scream as she tried to spot her opponent again. 

In the couple of years that had come since they’d parted ways, Emiko had been straining to teach herself to stop with a specific question, one that should always float up in those time sensitive moments where he was absolutely not reachable: what would her brother do? 

What would Hikaru, her foil in so many ways, say in the face of all of this? How would he skip over the angry disbelief bubbling like fire now to address Nam’s gloating, the outrage growing around Nella’s own panic, whatever the hell offer Jean thought he was making?

…

……..

The answer didn’t fucking matter, actually. Because Emiko knew two things: Hikaru Hashimoto would’ve been dead the second he stepped into Wilderdale, and these desperate dogpilers could have done nothing. 

“Are you fuckin' kidding me?" 

The small mercy was that Emiko’s outburst boiled over just a little before Ash beat her to nearly the exact same rant, though even if she didn’t verbally echo the sentiments, the rage towards the group still showed in how her body stiffened, fists shaking even as the gesture got tighter as Ash continued. But there was still a little that Emiko felt her peer had missed out.

”…If any of you start houndin’ Nella after this I’ll deal with you myself- and I don’t give a shit how gifted you are, cause I’m more than capable. It’s not HER fault she started to worry, its everyone’s who decided to roll the fuck over and give up like that! What, were you that desperate to just give up on it and shove the blame somewhere else? If this thing that Nameless Fucker is apparently preparin’ fucks Nella over more, I'm done.“ 

She sounded done already, to be honest- and apparently no signs of stopping just yet, even after a few more seconds of ruminating. 

"Somethin’ has to change around here. Whoever the fuck did it, maliciously, accidentally, forget that right now- though if they DO try killin’ a second time, I’ll be on that too. But playin’ into this game, diggin’ around and bein’ laughed at by the people watchin’ and enjoyin’ this isn’t gonna get us anywhere except with more people bein’ dead. We need to go right up to what's CAUSIN' us to do all this and see that out, you get it?" 

But by her last statement, Emiko’s anger had flattened out into something more pointed and levelled- though whether that was for the best was impossible to tell. 

It was both surprising and not, the reappearance of the victim into the courtroom with them- expected in the sense Emiko had picked up of the town’s undead population and their nature, but also just settling very, very wrongly in the pit of her stomach. Trainwreck syndrome threatened to dig its own claws in, Emiko’s gaze doing its best to pull away from the ghost among them but failing each and every time, so it was a small mercy that the one she had just fallen shy of directly accusing was on the other side to look to. 

“Look, Shijo, it’s not like I want to be here doin’ this shit either, but you surely have to understand why I went about askin’ what the case would be if you’d let a werewolf loose and it killed someone.” That was not a question. “Still, pretty refreshin’ for you to admit that you were powered by ego, I guess. For what it’s worth though, just in case you wanna try turnin’ it back on me in revenge or somethin’. It would take a hell of a lot of effort to start makin’ me bleed too.”

Her gaze threatened to drift back to Evelyn inbetween all the questioning of Brad.

“I dunno about the rope bein’ used after the fact she was dead. Sure, maybe if there was evidence her body had been dragged  somewhere after she was dead, but I’m pretty convinced the final fightin’ and her death took place where we found her. Someone usin’ it to stop her gettin’ away from the fight feels more likely to me.”

I hate dialogue breakers. 

“Fuckin’ hell, and here I was thinkin’ that these… gifts Nam decided to slap us with were all just to help us look around the place more. I guess it makes more sense they’d push us towards murder too. Anyway, I already described the nature of mine to some people, and it definitely doesn’t involve claws." 

For what it was worth Emiko didn’t seem particularly startled, even when Samael decided to just up and release a lion in the courtroom. Nothing more came from her other than a hiss through her teeth of ‘don’t know why people are so quick to announce shit round here’; likely only picked up by those immediately a few seats aside of her. 

"Does anyone actually know how Evelyn’s shapeshiftin’ properly works? I never saw her do it myself, but I think I’ve picked up the fact that she needed to put that shawl thing on to transform into a goose, right. In her goose form, was the shawl actually obvious? We can go assumin’ all the testimonies about only seein’ Evelyn as a goose make sense if the fight changed her back in tryin’ to steal the shawl all we like, but none of that makes sense if forcing her out of goose form is trickier than just tuggin’ a piece of cloth." 

Emiko was built entirely the opposite direction any kind of detective should be, she reckoned, so she would’ve been entirely happy to leave her musing right there and let others deal with the question she’d thrown out. But Ein’s approach creased her expression in thought - her natural angry expression not really helping the intensity of that look - and some more words found their way into the room: slower, more careful laid out on the groundwork others built than her usual cutting right to the point.

”…Or yeah, maybe we were lookin’ at the fight from the wrong direction? And the goal wasn’t to revert her to bein’ human? Sure, Evelyn was spotted bein’ a goose at some point, but there were two sets of footprints on the ground, nothin’ to do with goose prints. So she was already human again at the time she was bein’ attacked, and maybe ended up that way with the shawl… tryin’ to put it on to fly away from the fight? Or just keep hold of it as an important item. So goose to start with, but shifts back into a human in time for fightin’- which makes more sense if somethin’ had been tryin’ to catch or trap her as a goose, which honestly? Sounds like the easier state to trap to me. Though wouldn’t a testimony about Evelyn flyin’ onto the lake have mention, like, a rope hangin’ from her feet or whatever if she did drop it there?“

Well, while she was on a roll, she guessed.

"The source of the fabric’s also botherin’ me, and not just because it looks like it belonged to the culprit. Whybother burnin’ it? Did it have evidence of the fight on that they wanted to get rid of or could they just not be bothered doin’ some laundry to get mud out? It can’t have been a towel or anythin, or we wouldn’t have been able to find those dirty towels around the place. The clothin’ Evelyn ripped through to get that blood under her nails? In that case, checks are pretty useless unless the killer had all the rest of their clothes stolen in the motive, since there were a couple of hours between the time of death and us findin’ her. Plenty of time to get tidied up, if they’re careful.”

An annoyed huff.

“…Look, we’re goin’ round and round on this one, and I wanna start talkin’ about people in particular. Showin’ off our gifts is all well and good, but we’re not gettin' any closer to findin’ anyone with claws- unless we count the fact that it sounds like Brad was involved to some degree.”

Emiko wasn’t built for an audience, and she very much knew that fact by now. Sure, perhaps she could handle one, two, six at most if she had to work alongside a particularly big group for the day- but the feeling of hundreds of pairs of eyes was one that didn’t settle right in her stomach, even if it was more indigence at their current ordeal than any particular nerves or upset from the investigation. 

“So what, is the rest of the town in on this shit or no?" 

It was her only comment for some time; a knee-jerk response underneath Nam’s explanation. But the repeated references to things she’d done eventually earned more than a huff of acknowledgement, Emiko folding her arms and standing up straight to use her Maximum Intimidation.

"Yeah, I’ll vouch for Ein there, he went tryin’ to change in a dog form in our investigation time to try place if that fabric had any kind of scent. And apparently he’s stuck that way for a bit, so if he had used it in a murder, he’d have been lookin’ that way already. As for the whole Nam questionin’ Jean mentioned, yeah, I did get it confirmed that it has to be one of us murderin’ one of us to count for this. Course, it sounds like Brad might’ve gone helpin’ out someone here if he was seen about with rope- which really doesn’t help convince me you’re all not comfortable just sittin’ back and watchin’ this shit happen like some kind of sick entertainment!”

Emiko’s voice rose in volume around the discussion of Brad until she was all but loudly spitting at their audience, sweeping the nastiest eye she could around the room before dragging herself back to the matter at hand. At normal volume, thankfully. 

“…I want an injury check. Rope or not, goose form or not, the victim had blood under her nails and that suggests she managed to get a fight in. Sure, maybe there’s some kind of healin’ factor at play on our shifter, but I don’t think it’s somethin’ that can be discarded.”

While she continued on, Emiko silently backed up her own point: she shrugged her jacket off properly, and though her usual bandages remained in place, her shoulders and upper arms were clear of any new wounds anyway. 

Emiko had decided she disliked America about half an hour after she had first landed in it, after the airport decided it was worth their while to somehow completely misplace a large bag comprised of a dismantled bike frame, two wheels, and all the bits in between. 

For fuck’s sake.

The phone call she had been managing to take in the meantime barely even felt worth the hassle allowing it either, that racing voice still clamped between her shoulder and ear after the bike bag finally wheezed itself out of the plane luggage and let her start putting its contents back together around bubbling concern. 

“I mean, you’ll tell me everythin’, right? And I mean, I've only just forgiven you for leaving for Wilderdale without thinkin’ to mention it to me until I had no chance to pack too, but you know I’m willin’ enough to hold a grudge again-" 

"It was my invite, not yours. Doubt they would’ve even let you stick around to see how I get there. ‘Sides, you’ve got way more on your plate than I do right about now that you can’t just up and leave." 

"Emi, you know I’m the last person you can lie to, right?”

(Hikaru always had been the most logical of the two of them.)

But for better or for worse, there Emiko was as the time approached 10:45: rusted red bike reassembled, modest bags at her feet, nothing but a cautious yet steeled glance around those that seemed to be lingering in the same area as her. Occasionally her eyes would fall on the letter in her hand again, scanning the words over and over again for any last minute spots of tricks or loopholes- more than she’d already considered on first receive, of course. 

What would she do if she had found something overly concerning in those last moments; something a little more brow raising than the vague nature of 'outreach’ coming to her? 

The same thing she generally did for most other things, which was 'deal with that if or when it came up’. 

Speaking of things to deal with, Wendy’s appearance was a surprise, but not so much as the offering that came with her- those around Emiko likely didn’t have to have their translators fitted yet to understand the harsh “Oi-” that came with Emiko’s harsh flinch from the unknown magic item before she relented, nor the dirty glare she gave afterwards pulling the bandages over her palms back into place. Acceptance wasn’t going to come easy here, it seemed, for better or worse once again.

After the translation magic had taken hold, it was almost disappointing that their transport to Wilderdale was apparently going to be a simple long train ride rather than teleportation or anything. Hikaru would’ve surely found it quite sad, anyway.

That wasn’t going to stop Emiko poking the whole ordeal with a verbal stick though, stashing her bike appropriately before coming back to bodily throw herself into a seat from an empty block with a question. Surely a rhetorical one, given her abrasive tone that dared anyone to even try answering, and her body language of head turned to the window rather than the group at large only closing her off even more.