THIRD MYSTERY.

[ current starter call ]

what if there was a lil guy who died. what if another lil guy who died took advantage of the first one and corrupted him. and then he dies again

what if that lil guy’s soul is then used to make lil guy... 2!

don’t worry about it

will insult you. a lot. this both means that he hates you and that he really likes you

ended up taking up the role of a school mystery, which basically means that he’s not only a funny little ghost boy with powers but ALSO he looks over a school

can turn between Normal Lil Guy (Ghost) mode and Lil Guy (Ghost) (Bird Form) at will, the latter of which is his school mystery form (ie when his powers are strongest)

his scarf isn’t, like, sentient. but he can control it like extra limbs. so it may as well be

yep that’s a bird claw

just wants to be a human :(

SHVON! —from real life

not a lil guy

i’m a bit of a sonboy connoisseur though

i’m in my late 20s and a nonbinary lesbian!

i’m not very good at talking about myself and can be a little awkward because of my anxiety but i’m always down to thread or talk!

hanako can tell that he’s angry. from the way that he’s carrying himself to his overall body language, it’s… not hard to see. mitsuba’s more honest with his feelings than hanako is, so he can deal with him being mad. it’s easy enough to put up with. because there’s a level of apprehension that mitsuba has that’s preventing him from thoroughly lashing out more, he’s guessing.

“‘Why?’ You know already, don’t you? You, Aoi-chan, the other mysteries… don’t matter as much to me. But that’s not news, is it? You knew that from the start. That’s why I left you to the kid, I just didn’t want to bother with you.” which is a half-lie, in that he was hoping that he would be able to help mitsuba before tsukasa… did what he did to him. but life goes on.

and… no, hanako isn’t any different. he wanted to stay. but he wanted a real life, not one after as an apparition. a ghost. a miserable excuse for an existence. but that’s what mitsuba wants too, isn’t it? hanako knows that.

“I guess we aren’t different after all. Not a lot of good that does either of us, though.”

and hanako’s want to be cruel is there, of course it is, as ugly and calcified as it is. mitsuba’s miserable, but so is he, and he wants more than anything to dig into and tear apart everything that he’s saying. because it should be obvious; it should be obvious that it wasn’t hanako. that, no, if he had a choice, why would he bring mitsuba here? to save him? does he think he deserves that? someone that most people didn’t remember, sans some boy?

most people didn’t really remember hanako after he died either, though. or, well, they did. but it tapered off, spoken more as a hush-hush behind rumors of 'did you hear what happened at the yugi house? the family had—’

people naturally forget, after a time. they stopped referring to it by his family name, long forgotten, and just refer to it as something else, now. they still don’t dare go in, still do nothing but walk a little faster to the other side of the street when they cross it. but mitsuba didn’t really have anything, did he?

hanako’s clenching his teeth, so he tries to relax enough that when he speaks it’s not as a snap.

“Would you believe me if I said it wasn’t me that did this? You seem pretty convinced that it was.” and the part about yashiro, what’s he even going on about? “She’s alive, so. I’m not happy that she’s not, but she’s alive. You should stick to minding your own business, though. Don’t you think it makes you look kinda stupid? I don’t want to makeout with her.”

he’s not friends with him, so the thought of sharing something about him feels off-kilter in the way that something’s just unnatural. he’s not going to say no, you see, i’m seeing someone else, because it’s none of his business in the first place. hanako doesn’t care about making friends.

“But enough about that, I doubt Tsukasa had a hand in this either. I know he does whatever he wants to, but I haven’t seen him around, and if he is, he hasn’t seen me. I don’t care all that much if you blame me, or if you stop, because it’s easy to, isn’t it? Chalk it all up to number seven’s made a mess of things again? So, go ahead. I won’t stop you. Whether you like me or not, I’ll put up with you. Yashiro likes you, for some reason, so I don’t really have a choice either!”

because maybe hanako doesn’t want to be friends with him, but he still has some semblance of… maybe they could get along, if hanako stopped being selfish, if hanako stopped doing whatever he wanted. but he wants her to live. he wants her to live so badly that it almost feels like he can’t breathe, like he’ll do anything to see it through, no matter the cost. even if it costs him everything. he doesn’t want her to end up like him.

“Even if it upsets her, even if you hate me, even if it means killing another person—I’m going to make sure that she lives. I have to.”

“That–”

“–you know that wasn’t me, right?”

And it stings to say, because Mitsuba knows some part of him is. Was. He doesn’t know anymore. He knows somewhere along the line, if you follow the path of Mitsuba way back, it would lead to Sousuke. He knows that. He knows, too, that following Sousuke’s line forward... doesn’t inherently lead to Mitsuba. Sousuke stops where Mitsuba begins.

So Hanako says, that’s why I left you with the kid. Hanako says, I just didn’t want to bother with you. But he isn’t talking about Mitsuba. He’s talking about Sousuke. Sousuke, who Mitsuba used to (still does) envy with every fibre of his being. Sousuke – the face who stares back at him from any mirror Mitsuba tries to watch the memories of, reflected back like some cruel joke, that this is the life you can never have. Sousuke’s heart beats in Mitsuba’s chest alongside Number Three’s – neither one is his own. He could almost laugh.

He doesn’t.

And Mitsuba knows there are parts of him that are decidedly Sousuke. He still understands cameras; the first time he picked one up it felt like home in his hands, but he’s heard that Sousuke liked taking photos of things, not of people. Mitsuba tried that before, he really did. He tried to take photos of birds, of dead cockroaches or whatever else Sousuke might have considered “art”, but it never fit as well as taking a photo of a person. A memory; one that you can hold in your hands. A memory in physical form that says, I was here, once. I lived, or I at least played the part of something alive.

Every time he talks to Hanako is exhausting because Mitsuba isn’t Mitsuba, isn’t Number Three, isn’t whatever he tries to be. He doesn’t know what he is to Hanako, because he’s not Sousuke to him, either. He’s... something. He doesn’t like that he can’t put a name to it. He wonders if Hanako hates him so much because Mitsuba’s a perfect imitation of everything Hanako knows he can’t have either.

The only difference is just that Mitsuba hasn’t given up on it all yet.

“You–”

Mitsuba pauses. Stares.

“... uwa... I’m not stupid, you know, Number Seven? Look at how you treat her! Everything you do for Daikon-senpai is the same that I’d do for Kou-kun – do you even hear yourself right now? What is that? ‘Even if it means killing another person I’ll make sure that she lives’? And you don’t want to–”

It’s annoying. Hanako’s annoying. Mitsuba heaves the most dramatic sigh he can muster, raising his hands up to muss with his hair (but only a little bit; he doesn’t want to mess up how cute it is, after all).

“These things happen and they inconvenience me and always, always work out well for you. Being tossed into that other place wasn’t your fault, but whatever happened back home... and even this, after everything... what am I supposed to think? Anything that works out well for Daikon-senpai can be pointed back to you, and the two of you may as well be married already... you don’t care about anyone other than her, or what they might want, at all. What am I supposed to think?”

He leans back just as dramatically as his sigh had been.

  nene’s still taking a moment to breathe and figure out if this mitsuba is even real while he’s clinging to her. she’s holding him up well enough so they don’t entirely collapse to the floor, but the haze in her mind that could easily reflect the fog rolling near them doesn’t help much. mitsuba feels real enough, a weight on her that’s whining and sounding ready to break into tears if she ruins whatever fantasy he’s attempting to build.

  … even hanako wouldn’t stoop to a level of fooling around like this.

  “ n… no, it can’t be hanako-kun, ” she gets out through a stammer of her own. “ … b - but it’s not tsukasa either! ”

  it’s not reassuring, especially when nene herself isn’t entirely sure of what’s going on. she purses her lips and moves back away from the source of the laughter.

  “ we… we need to run, mitsuba-kun! away from the fog! if… if we leave it behind, it won’t come after us! ” she commands with a confidence that is absolutely not within her at this moment. there’s not much you can do or say that’s true with a lack of knowledge, but even a fake amount of sturdiness can carry them until they’re safe, right?

Would he not? Mitsuba would have asked if he were at all capable of reading Nene’s thoughts. Mitsuba may be a Supernatural, but he’s far from a mind-reader – peering into mirrors to see things that happened in the past isn’t knowing what someone is currently thinking, or might do in the future. Nene believes the best of Hanako, and Mitsuba – Mitsuba – well, doesn’t.

“I, I don’t really know about that–!”

“B-b-because what if they can run really far? Or are actually there? Wh-what if they’re not related to the fog? I can really only punch my scarf for so long, you know!? I have a delicate constitution! What if something grabs me!? I’ll be destroyed! Someone this cute is a once in a lifet–”

The laughing gets louder. Mitsuba shrieks, something terribly loud and ear-piercing (the sort that leaves them ringing for minutes afterwards, to the point you’re sure he must still be shrieking), and his scarf punches out into the fog. If something happens, he can’t confirm or deny it. The laughing does stop, but that doesn’t... mean anything. Mitsuba doesn’t trust it.

Mitsuba still doesn’t trust that it isn’t Tsukasa out there, in the fog.

“W-w-well! Get a load of that!” His confidence is even more obviously faked than Nene’s own. “I-i-if you start running I g-guess I’ll k-keep us safe from the rear!” Except Mitsuba feels like his legs are jelly, and even if he’s been able to punch something in the fog (maybe! or maybe not!), he hasn’t broken any of the statues, or... or...

aaand with that outta the way – here’s an uncapped starter call for mitsuba!

Mitsuba hates surprises.

Well, no. That's not true. Mitsuba likes surprises, as long as they're good ones, but the fact of the matter seems to be that Mitsuba draws a whole lot of negativity to him rather than positivity. Any time he's been surprised, it hasn't been... great?

He's all but clinging to Nene like she's a lifeline, besides.

"Daikon-senpai," – and it's not quite a whine, but it's not not one. Mitsuba's better off here than Nene is, he knows, so even though he's basically wrapped himself around her, he understands that any protection is going to have to come from him. Mitsuba doesn't... expect the best from situations like this, though.

He still remembers, for instance, having to – well, having to run from... himself. The Mitsuba that existed before, Sousuke, his rumour corrupted and his form barely recognizable. Mitsuba doesn't trust when things happen. He didn't want to show up anywhere in the middle of a thing happening.

... like the laugh, taunting and ever-familiar, drifting out of the fog towards them.

"D-D-Daikon-senpai," he stutters, like he doesn't want to be sure of himself – and, admittedly, he doesn't. "Please tell me that doesn't sound like Tsukasa-kun. Lie to me if you have to. I-it's just Number Seven being a nuisance, right? Right?"

he’s still trying to adjust here, and it’s been a little easier with the people around, but not completely smooth sailing. he still feels like he’s just going through the motions until he’s returned to kamome again, so he doesn’t want to keep his hopes up that now will be any different. he’s so lost in his thoughts that he’s almost startled when a voice pipes up, one that’s familiar. one that sounds as hurt as he feels.

it’s not like he didn’t expect to run into anyone else he knew. but it’s still surprising. hanako’s still trying to pick up the pieces from where he left off, even if he’s happy that yashiro is here with him. but this, mitsuba’s tone no matter how much he tries to hide it, doesn’t make hanako feel anything. he’s tired, still, and doesn’t want to spend the time explaining himself. especially not to him.

does he even know that it was him who caused it? hanako doesn’t know.

“If you’re talking about the Severance, then, yeah. I know what happened back there. I guess it affected you too. If it’s something else, though… you’re gonna need to catch me up to speed.” which is stating the obvious, because number three has never been human. he’s a supernatural through and through, and hanako knows firsthand that it wasn’t comfortable disappearing into tiny shards.

so it makes sense, why he’s upset. he had to go through it, too. and he’s more attached to the near shore than he should be. hanako thought he could use that in his favor once, but that fell through. he doesn’t know if the severance was better than living in a fake world.

he moves his hands into his pockets.

“What do you want me to do about it? We don’t belong on the Near Shore anyway. But you wanted to stay longer, didn’t you?” he doesn’t really want to admit that he should take accountability for it, because he doesn’t know what all he knows. anyone could piece it together, though. events usually stemmed from and trailed back to him.

“Not like it does us a lot of good, because we’re here now.”

He guesses.

He guesses it affected Mitsuba too, as if Mitsuba wasn't currently here (a mess by all meanings of the word) in front of him. Mitsuba can only assume that this... Severance, thing, is what happened to him, which means it was something important enough to have a name, and. And... and Mitsuba wasn't told about it.

He'd had to ask that weird spider teacher-Mystery about what Urabon was, but no one had mentioned this.

Mitsuba opens his mouth. Exhales angrily. Closes it. There's no – God, there's no words to express how angry he is. Because everything that happens in Kamome is always either Tsukasa's fault or Hanako's, and without Tsukasa here (he hopes), all the hatred and blame falls squarely on Hanako's shoulders instead.

"Why?"

That's a question with too many possibilities to answer. Mitsuba seethes so badly that he knows his shaking is visible.

"Why'd you let it happen?"

Because one moment he'd been fine spending some time with Kou, and with Natsuhiko too he guesses, and the next minute he'd been getting ripped apart at the seams, disturbed from what was otherwise a peaceful and fine slumber. It had hurt. It had really hurt, and then he – then he couldn't –

"Of course I did! And you did, too, didn't you!? You always talk –" And it comes back in a wave, everything from before, when Hanako and Mitsuba had barely started getting along; they fill in a place in his memory that should have no interruptions, yet his memories from home still continue on seamlessly as well. It makes his head throb. "– you always talk so big, and separate yourself from everything, but you're no different from me!"

Mitsuba wants to grab him and shake him until his smug little head pops off, but Mitsuba'd noticed he felt stronger here. He doesn't want to risk what might happen if that's happened to Hanako, too.

"... we are," is what he settles on, resigned, tears blurring up the corners of his vision. Mitsuba doesn't want to cry in front of Hanako, so he doesn't let himself. The hands of his scarf have balled into angry fists.

So have Mitsuba's own.

It’s upsetting.

It’s upsetting, because Mitsuba had been so sure that things were going to be okay, for the first time in a while. He was comfortable with himself, he was comfortable with how things were with Kou. He was, for all intents and purposes, happy. And he would have been fine with things staying that way! He really would have.

Mitsuba, of course, doesn’t remember everything that happened in the before until he wakes up in the Grove. Birds are chirping; the sun is warm, beating down on him through the leaves of the trees. Mitsuba is outside, decidedly not in Kamome, but it feels... hollow. It feels hollow because he can feel himself being torn apart by whatever was happening, lost and overwhelmed, and he can feel all the memories flooding back of that place. Of Kou, of Nene, of Hanako, of Kohimasu and –

– Mitsuba is angry.

He’s so, so angry, and he has no one to turn to, because none of his support system is here. The rage boils and brews in his chest as he makes himself move the only direction he can, to the cabins, key clutched tightly in his hand. Too tightly. It hurts.

It hurts, but what hurts more than the indent of a key in his palm is spotting him once he reaches the cabins, out and about like nothing happened at all. And maybe nothing did happen, to him. Mitsuba’s well aware of timelines not syncing up, if here is anything like there. It makes him feel so helpless, at a time when he was just getting used to what he’s capable of.

So Mitsuba freezes, and tries to hide how much he’s shaking. Tries to hide how confrontational, how accusatory, his voice sounds when he speaks up.

“Do you know what happened to me?”

Honestly, Mitsuba hadn’t been planning on doing much. He’d already complained about his fair share, though, and while far be it for him to forego complaining about something, he had at least been approached by someone while he’d been browsing the quests again.

(Maybe he liked letting things get to his head! It’s fine.)

“... alright. We can get the stickers back.”

“But just so you know I don’t plan on standing around while you do all the work. I’m not gonna let myself get eaten by a fifteen-foot cat. Or by anything, really.” Nearly been there, nearly done that, and he’s definitely way too cute to want to come scrambling out of a huge cat’s mouth.

Man... none of the quests had really appealed to Mitsuba whatsoever. Which was fair, really, because after more than a year in this city, uh... it was sort of annoying, to keep having to do this? If this was the way he had to do things in order to have a shot at a real life then he guessed it was fine, but. That didn’t mean... that he liked it.

He wasn’t even at one of the safe zones right now, honestly; Mitsuba was just sort of walking, trying to see if having to do any of what he was being told to do jumped out at him (and so far, nothing). He didn’t really feel like putting on a one-man play? If Kou were here he’d probably excitedly drag Mitsuba up on stage to perform something with him, but... Kou hadn’t... been here in... a while.

... ah, man... Mitsuba was lonely.

And he probably would have stayed wallowing in that loneliness with absolutely no ideas jumping out at him, were it not for the, uh... man with one of those Ofiuclone-things staring him down like it were about to attack him.

Mitsuba raised his hand, halfheartedly.

“Ah, is that so? I see. He’s ceased being a problem, then? Or was it something else?” 

“Oh, no! He’s always gonna be a problem! If he gets his knife back he’s probably gonna be running around the city CHOP CHOP!!! without a thought for proper handling or safety!”

A pause.

“Yes, I do.” 

“Has he shown up again? I’ll see to it that he’s removed from the premise. If you’ll excuse me…”

“Uh... no, he’s been – he’s been doing okay, uh, not showing up...!”

“... so this is a little awkward.”