memories

Following the release of the last motive - the piece of paper detailing the "special person" - Seiki had been sulking. Head held low, drooping, like a quietly sad cat.

And like a cat, they were sat on the balcony, watching the time fail to pass. Bright orange and red sky. Red was their favourite colour, but having watched it for so long it no longer warmed their heart to look at. It was just like the sky was being too lazy to set, too lazy to pick a hue.

There was no wind, either. It was not cold or hot. Seiki wished that there was something to remind them that they were still living in the world.

They stood at the edge of the railing and held their arms out wide, hoping a sudden gust of wind might come and make their long sleeves flap on the breeze. But nothing happened. They just looked like they were preaching to an invisible audience in the courtyard below.

"I wonder if the lord Buddha ever felt this way."

Of course Hansuke's on edgy - who wouldn't be after the display with Mari and the dead stuffed. Fox or whatever. They bite their lip as they pace the library, pulling at their bracelets and counting backwards by threes.

They're on thirty-nine before they lose track and sit down on one of the chairs in the library, wallowing in their own self pity. It's not like they have anything to pity themself for. Not more than anyone else, at the very least.

They perk up a bit when they hear someone enter the room, and they hurriedly gather themself together as Usami walks in. Oh, that's someone they know! Someone that might very well die ha ha that's how it is sometimes

When everyone else worked to apologize and reconcile and do something fun together, Ayako was silent. She had walked out of the courtyard before anyone could invite her to makeover night.

- - -

Ayako made herself rather scarce in the aftermath of the investigation, though most people who managed to find her were still met with a nervous smile, as if nothing had ever happened. Her sleeping was still erratic without a phone’s clock and alarm to keep her on track, something not helped by the perpetual sunset sky above the courtyard. And still, she made it part of her routine, just to give herself some semblance of a schedule. Mornings by the rose garden. Evenings in the chapel.

The routine didn’t account for the devil child’s laughter waking her up, though.

Ayako wasn’t in a hurry to get out of bed, only moving when it seemed Toka would keep taunting her meaninglessly until they were certain she was paying attention. Only then did Toka finally get to the point, directing her to some note in her room. It didn’t take long for Ayako to find it – there it was, tucked between bottles set out on the nightstand.

She hesitated, hand hovering over the slip of paper.

She already had a good idea of who the target of this threat was. It could have been several people. Hard-working parents who only wanted to keep their children happy, at all costs. Grandparents willing to donate their old supplies and their old knowledge. A sister, still so young, still too young to die.

(But since when did that ever mean anything?)

Maybe if she just never looked at this paper, Toka’s words couldn’t become reality. It could have been so many people, she already knew that, so did it even matter to her which one? The end result was the same: Someone she loved would die unless somebody here took the bait. Someone she loved could die unless she took the bait.

Ayako grasped one of the bottles on the nightstand instead and continued her morning routine.

This time, her act of pretending that nothing had ever gone wrong only lasted about fifteen minutes, the length of time needed to take a long shower. Those were fifteen minutes of silence, and silence invited in all sorts of deep thoughts that only stirred up her fears. What if she was wrong and it was somebody else? A classmate? An art partner? What if it wasn’t a threat of death after all, and the devil had meant some worse fate? What if, somehow, she could lose her a second time?

And Ayako, still trying to dry out her hair, finally looked at the note. And Ayako, still trying to pretend the wetness on her face was from her hair, mouthed out Hanako’s name.

(It never meant anything. She was proof. Everyone here was proof.)

Someone else would take the bait. Someone else, with a heart so much more passionate and fragile and tender than hers, would kill to save their own loved one. Ayako could – it disgusted her – but she could wait, and she could keep her own hands clean up until the moment she sent someone else to the executioner’s block.

Seiki found their slip of paper, underneath their bed. They had no idea who that 'special person' was supposed to be. Nevertheless, the contents of their slip felt like a punch in the gut.

They crumpled it up in one hand and tossed it into a corner, never to be found again. In a sudden burst of anger they swung their leg at one of the bedposts, and then cried out in pain, flopping onto the bed and cradling their bruised shin.

No matter how much their mind - their training - was telling them that this did not matter - that this was a good thing - Seiki felt a rupture in their chest. At least back home, they could pretend that this was normal--

It IS normal! It has to be! If not, what then? What am I doing? What have I done?

What did they do, to me...?

Why me...?

By the end of the day, the detective has gathered you all once again. She walks up and down the line, glaring at each one of you suspiciously. She thumps her paw in irritation as she looks at everyone from top to bottom.

“Most of you have come to me with your votes by now. Going by the majority...”

She points dramatically with a single paw.

“Mari Kanou! You are the murderer!”

There’s an incredulous look on Mari’s face as she points to herself, as if trying to confirm that it was indeed her the plush was talking about. It took a moment before it sunk in. She was voted for by her peers. They voted for her committing a crime…

That she didn’t even do.

She looked back at you and your peers, shocked to no end.

“Wait, so, you thought that, like, Mari did it? Mari didn’t though! Promise! Like, yeah, Mari was at the balcony, but the planters just, like, tipped over out of nowhere. Totally! There wasn’t even any, like, wind--”

The rabbit cut her off with a huff. 

“Shut it! Your classmates wanted to off you, so accept it.”

“They… did?” The model looked rather dejected at that. “They could have just asked, and Mari could have told them what Mari saw and and and--”

The rabbit cuts her off once again.

“Blah, blah, blah. You’re the murderer, and who would ever believe in a human? Now let’s get this justice served.”

The plush detective clapped her paws together, and you watch as swarms of plush animals begin to gather around Mari.

“Wait, wait! Mari didn’t do it though! Please, like, you got to believe Mari. Mari…Mari… I don’t want to die!”

With that said, the stuffed animals crawled onto her, their weight surprisingly much heavier than she expected. It was enough to topple her to the ground, and from there, the blonde was buried underneath, nowhere to be seen.

There’s a childish laughter ringing in your ears. It’s familiar and a sound you’ve grown to dread.

“Hehehe! Congratulationnnns on being so gullible! Really, you’d might want to step back and recognize how quickly you turned on your classmate. For the murder of a stuffed fox, even! Hehehehehe! You’re all really too funny! I almost thought you were going to accuse Edel of killing his own guards.”

The mountain of plush begin to file out, as if nothing had happened, and carried on with the servile tasks. There revealed Mari, still alive if not for the obvious signs of her sniveling on the ground. Ruffled and dirtied to say the least, but alive. There seemed to be a new addition though. Several in fact. A black blindfold covered her eyes with the words ‘SEE NO EVIL’ on them. More importantly, there seemed to be golden letters scrawled on her. Huh. They glowed brightly, and you could clearly see the names on her:

Kuroi Kuroki.

Naythan Shirogane.

Daishin Tanaguchi.

Sachiko Mori.

From behind Mari, you spot a black cat slinking off into the shadows, mismatched eyes flashing in the perpetual orange sunlight.

“Wake up...~! Wake up... Wake up!”

You weren’t sure what time it was, but you knew it was definitely too early to be waking up. And here you thought that being in some weird world where a demon is forcing you to kill each other would exempt you from being woken up in the morning.

Even so, you’re certain that the repetition won’t end until you finally got out of bed.

“Noooow that I have everyone’s attention, are you all ready for the newest motive~!? And guess what! You won’t even have to leave your rooms for this one!”

Toka trailed off for a moment, only to return with an obnoxious and childlike laugh that you have definitely heard in your nightmares.

“If you take a quick lil look around your rooms, you’ll see a niiiiice slip of paper! On it...is a very...VERY special person in your life! Aaaaaw, isn’t that sweet~? Unless you got no one-- then you might as well die! A~ny~way~! But don’t get tooooo sentimental just yet! Becauuuuuse...if no one kills...then you better kiss that special person goooooodbye!”

...

Weird. There are servants scuttling around the castle in some kind of frenzied panic. There’s hushed whispers that you catch passingly, and it freezes you in your tracks. There’s been a murder. A body had been found. After what had happened with Yukitoshi, you don’t doubt it. Following after one of the plush animals, you see a crowd of them circling around….

….Another plush. A fox was sprawled across the ground in the courtyard with bits of inky stuffing poking out. There’s broken remnants of clay fragments and dirt on top.

Before you know it, you’re joined by your peers as you stare at the dead servant before you. A whistle sounds off by your ears, and your attention is immediately caught by another plush rabbit. She appears to be a bit different from the rest of the other plush you’ve seen. By ‘bit’, there’s a detective cap on her head, separating her from all the other animate stuffed animals.

“You! All of you! I knew it! The culprit always returns back to the scene of the crime. Guilty! Guilty! Guilty!”

She stamps her feet on beat, leveling beady eyes at you.

“.....Which one of you is it though? My reports tell me there was one murderer.”

After a moment of silence, she continues with an irritated huff, shoving a carrot into her mouth like a makeshift cigar.

“Not talking, huh? Figures. The culprit will be punished once I find them. Since all of you are suspects, I’m giving you a chance to clear your name. In order to do so, you’re the one pointing the finger here. Pick a person, and vote for them. Whoever is the majority has to be the murderer!”

She gives a flippant wave of a paw.

“You can look around or whatever. I’ll even give you permission to access the second floor in groups, but be warned. There’s a lack of incriminating evidence. You’ll only have word of mouth from the servants, but not everything can be trusted. Some of us can be quite the gossipers. You can choose to ask for advice, but I’ll have you know that we’re all wary of you. We’re quite skittish around murderers… or potential ones. You might not get much information from us that way, but the polite approach is appreciated.”

“We better not catch you eavesdropping on us though! It might give you more insight, but we don’t take too kindly to those we find.”

The rabbit looked down at her arm, as if checking a watch. She drawled out dismissively.

Seiki, being a traditional Shinto Buddhist, had never seen a chapel before in their life. In fact, they stood right before one and still wasn’t quite sure what they were looking at.

What is this, a tiny palace? It was only when they saw the cross at the top of the steeple that they figured maybe this was something to do with the… Jesus religion.

For the sake of research, they promptly entered, geta clacking on the old stone floor. The sound echoed once they got through the doorway. It smelt strange inside, like a smoky musk, unfamiliar but warm.

Following the aisle down to the end of the building, they stopped in front of the mirror. They wouldn’t have known that this was not typical chapel furniture, but its broken state was quite disconcerting. Perhaps someone had traveled through it…?

Finally, they cast their gaze up to the stained glass windows. They were quite magnificent, Seiki had to admit. Seiki didn’t know who a single one of the saints were, so cheekily they said “wassup y'all” up at them in the equivalent informal Japanese. It echoed around, as if they were replying back.

They spotted, over by one wall, some kind of basin. It looked like a very fancy sink, but there were no faucets. Inside was some clear water.

Neglecting to figure out how the water got there in the first place, and why it might have been put there, Seiki determined that this was a drinking fountain. And so… they lowered their head and started to lap up the holy water like a cat.

—— New places didn’t necessarily always beg for investigation, but he supposed in the situation that they were in what with the fact that blood had been spilt not once but three times.

Twice could be a coincidence, three times was always a certainty.

The caretaker found a liberating feeling in saying his mind, but the dream from before still seemed to haunt him. In his silence, it was always replaying and soon enough it blurred the lines between fantasy and reality. The only thing that kept him from accepting it as truth was the fact that he was certain he could not be who he was today if that dream were real– if it were anything more than a false memory in the works.

The two tales, one of a victim, one of a victim just by another name, faded though they were remembered hence why his feet propelled him outside of his room towards the unknown. Even if his heart threatened to confuse his mind, his memory bank ensured he was on the right track.

He only realized where he was when he had bumped into a glass case. Taking him out of his thoughts, his eyes glanced upon the various weapons in the armory.

Figures he would stumble in here.

He made no move to try and touch any of them, merely looking at them with a forlorn look painting his face. Excitement should be bubbling, a childhood desire, but he supposed that dream was still messing with him.

It was a welcome diversion to hear someone else enter the room, though he wasn’t certain at first whether or not to turn to face them. That would be polite, but… everything was a bit out of it for him today he supposes– ( an excuse he forges for himself ) but that does not stop him from at least managing some words in his usual gentle tone:

mon-thurs: freetime (oct 9-12)

fri-sun: motive (oct 13-15)

mon-thurs: body+investigation (oct 16-19)

fri-mid sun: trial (oct 20-22)

sun: execution, devil theatre, ch start (oct 22)

Here was Ayako knew right at that moment: The ache that hammered away in her chest was proof that she was still alive. Even after everything, even after having to discard someone else’s life to keep herself safe, even after the burning sensation began to sting her throat, she would continue to live so long as she didn’t let this heart stop beating.

She coughed again and again, unable to do more than sit behind her podium. She couldn’t straighten up her back and watch Toka as they tallied up the results, nor could she look Seinaru in the eye after having cast one of many stones at her. Toka’s childish voice grated on her nerves – they might as well have used nails to carve the tally into the chalkboard – but Ayako tried to swallow down the unease still burning and churning in her stomach. She had done this to live, she told herself. If she had held back – if too many of them at once held back – then would Toka have really lashed out at random just as they had promised at the start?

Ayako was trying to live, even if it meant someone else was going to die for her sake. Kami, or Seinaru – she’d already taken a life, however accidental—

(for the most fleeting second, Ayako felt that maybe this felt familiar, that in another world under different circumstances she would be the one getting in a struggle over a knife, getting stabbed senselessly and putting her blood on another girl’s hands – but the moment passed and all that remained was the fear that maybe “I did it to protect myself” would never be enough to justify what just happened this morning)

—however accidental, Seinaru had been marked as a killer. If the rest of them wanted to guard themselves from punishment, they’d have to cast the stones at her. Ayako kept trying to rationalize what she had done with thoughts like that. She kept trying to tell herself that, regardless of whatever built up to that struggle, somebody was dead because of her and she needed to be brought to justice.

Death by fire was not the justice Ayako had hoped for.

Revulsion was flooding every space in her body, scorching her from within. This wasn’t Akihito’s apparent heart attack or Yukitoshi’s mundane stabbing. Something profoundly twisted and evil was at work here, forcing Seinaru to the edge until the flames finally consumed her. The revelations weighed heavy in her chest – this really could only be the work of a devil.

The farcical shows of the theater didn’t relieve her of the sudden sting of tears in her eyes. Seinaru’s entire history was now on display, stories of what Ayako interpreted as an abusive household – but it was Yukitoshi’s show that lingered in her mind like a bad song. She’d seen the mask by his body, after all. People wearing a mask during cold seasons weren’t unheard of, but…

But Ayako found a lot of her own tale of sickness and isolation being reflected in his own. And this wasn’t anything that she needed to hear right now.

By the time the remaining group was finally returned to the castle, Ayako was able to stand back up, hands crossed over her waist in a gesture both demure and guarded.

This was going to be how she would survive this place, then? An eye for an eye, a life for a life.

Who could she even trust now, knowing how far they’d all have to go to survive? Yoshiya? Janet? Mari? If any of them were in danger, would they be willing to step on someone else to save their own hides?

Would Ayako be able to not sacrifice someone else?

With a mumble of token politeness, Ayako excused herself and departed for her room. She needed to – to count boxes and bottles, to safeguard what little she had, to think about anything except fires and demons and knives slicked with blood.

Once upon a time there was a young girl named Seinaru Kamihikari.

Once upon a time, there was a young boy named Yukitoshi Nishimura.

tw: heights, suicide, fire

Kami - or, rather, Seinaru - stands on a bridge. Or, a vague representation of one; it looks like a bridge, but is made solely for the purpose of forcing someone to jump into the flames below. Seinaru grasps frantically at her eyepatch, fear clouding her expression as she gazes down at the flames below her. She looks to the ash-filled sky, embers mixing with the stars. Of course, the fire is symbolic. After all, hell is where she belongs, right? It’s where she always belonged. She had just been acting this whole time, playing a part in some revolting performance her parents had forced her into the lead role of. She was horrible, worthless, an absolutely disgusting sinner and she didn’t deserve to be on this Earth. She didn’t deserve to be born, much less interact with other people who were so, so much better than she was. 

And as she thought this, she gazed over the bridge’s edge into the flaming abyss below, and she removed her eyepatch. She flinches, uncomfortable, but realizes that eventually, her showing off the revolting scars mutilating her sewn-shut eye wouldn’t matter when she was burning where she belonged. She tosses the eyepatch into the flames, and you can see the flames lick around the fabric petals, curling them inwards and turning them black. Seinaru exhales, shaking, before stepping back and clasping her hands together, pressing them over her heart as she shakes. She had tried to kill herself before. Not so dramatically, but she had tried. She gazes up at the stars, reaching one of her hands up as if she’ll be able to grab one of them, to hold one of these stars in her grasp and have one small, glimmering beam of hope as she fell. But, she faltered. She didn’t want to do this, did she? Nothing was forcing her off this edge. She was meant to jump off herself, of her own free will. She was afraid, of course. She was weak and pathetic and afraid of what was going to happen if she jumped. She had not moved her hand from trying to grab a star. That’s when something stepped up behind her. Toka steps up behind her, wearing a halo and robes. But it’s alright. They won’t hurt her. They just want to watch her meet her untimely end by her own hand. She flinches as she feels Toka nudge her forwards, enough to urge her to fall but not enough to actually shove her off. She strains her arm, trying, hoping desperately that one of these stars will save her. And then, she leans too far forwards. She falls over, but she doesn’t scream. She lands horrifyingly close to the edge, and you can see that she’s smiling as she makes her way to the edge. Nothing was going to save her. Toka was going to send her to hell, just as Lucifer had been sent to hell after everything he had done. She deserved this punishment, and she stands, shaking, as she glances over the edge. She turns, to face the demon, smiling as she gives a final curtsy. And she gazes at the stars once again, the tears now streaming down her cheeks glimmering with their light, and she reaches towards them again, before closing her eyes, and falling backwards. You can barely see because of the rapidly approaching flames, but you can see that, as she falls, she still reaches for the stars. The sentinels, who would protect those who were good. People that weren’t her. That had never been her. And she smiles, before she disappears beneath the flames into hell, where she belongs.

Kami Okurimono Seinaru Kamihikari, SHSL Winemaker, has been executed.

Toka claps their hands, signaling the end of the trial. They look rather bored and absentmindedly play with their hair. It’s almost a miracle that they didn’t interrupt earlier.

“You’ve all realized the answer by now...Well, most of you, at least. But I still have to formally announce it.”

Behind you, a large wooden board appears on the stage. There are tallies written in chalk next to a few names.

Final Vote Count:

Kami Okurimono: 14

Masaharu Nakai: 1

Defaulted: 9

Nate, for once, listened attentively to the goings-on of the trial. He listened to Kami's story, everyone's commentary, and his intelligent, hot, gothic, objectivist gf.

Nate didn't disagree with what Kuroi had to say. It's just like his mother taught him growing up - own up to your choices, and don't deflect blame. (Which was kind of hypocritical, given how often Mom blamed Nate's shitty behavior on the school system, but that was besides the point.)

It's just that... well, Nate wouldn't have actually said it. But he figured this was Kuroi's prerogative - her honesty was something he deeply appreciated about her, after all.

Not really sure what to say, Nate just crossed his arms.

"...Hmph."

That's all. Just. Hmph.