jack of all trades

Yoshiki Shouda probably should have been more responsive during the entirety of the trial. He was the token kid from the dead, and he had barely taken advantage of his one time in the limelight. He faded into irrelevancy once more. He had admittedly allowed it to happen, but there was still a bittersweet feeling to being revived. It felt exactly the same as being dead: Distant.

He could not even react against the initial words implying that people thought that Hana was the mastermind. He was simply still and quiet like he had become after being off’d. He hated himself for not making some kind of scene. Why had it been so difficult to do something that came so naturally before? Had he lost his edge? Did he ever even have any? He cursed himself, for he knew that the dead could have very well been watching him.

Or maybe that was too selfish of him to assume. Who knew? He sighed, gripping his recorder. That was the one thing he had always been confident in– the one thing that he had control over. Whilst it was a mutual relationship between him and his instrument, that feeling of control was what keep him from being too self-deprecating, he hoped.

And then it had been confirmed that the vote he had put in as a last, desperate resort was right. Staring at the bespectacled figure who he had talked to so casually just before, he cocked his head to the side in bemusement. It seemed surreal… Was this the man he had truly wanted to blame? It was true that Yoshiki had a lot of frustrations and blame he had imagined he would want to toss towards the mastermind, but all he could do was remain silent in his own confusion.

“Ah, no, no, my mistake — I should’ve given more of a warning, er… Apologies for taking you off guard. Ahaha…”

The words the ghostwriter had said bore a strange meaning to him now. In hindsight, he wondered if Keita knew that his words could be twisted now considering his newly revealed role in the scheme of things. It all seemed bitter when reflecting on it and attempting to stretch it to apply to the entire scenario, but Yoshiki did not say a word out loud against him.

Maybe he should have.

Then came the culprit execution. Many had thrashed against the murderer, though Yoshiki’s own opinion had been rather neutral. To judge someone based on ignorance or having spilt blood at this point seemed ridiculous. These last weeks could have been summed up as ‘lots of people turn out to be murderers and ignorant’, and perhaps it was death that made the musician more apathetic towards the individual people who fell victim to the heat of the situation and were driven to kill in addition to the people who just turned out to not be well-versed in certain manners.

It wasn’t their fault, Yoshiki could reason. That was what he would leave it at, and that was it. He did not care to dwell on it, and his mind had shifted gears when Yoshiki finally got to witness an execution in the flesh. However, it held no significance at first, it seemed. The executions felt like they should have been a reminder that anyone could die at any point, but this was the end, wasn’t it? Even when he was alive again, there were no stakes.

However, the events of the execution itself convinced him otherwise– that there was a purpose to all this. He watched, expecting some sort of pitiful, quick, ironic death that was particularly animated. He had become used to that. He had become used to seeing gore, as much as he would want to flinch and wince at the sight of it nowadays (if he didn’t just laugh in horror).

This was inhumane.

He was witnessing what felt like the lifestory of some poor kid. He was going through it all in an abridged format as if he was holding someone’s hand. He was getting to know their family dynamic and what was the worst of everything. He was feeling pity. Everything just kept going on and on, and then he had not even registered the fact that Minoru was being executed as opposed to just forced to be tortured with the past– something that shouldn’t matter, something that should just be tossed out the garbage can.

The giggling that continued and faded out sent a chill down the recorder player’s spine. It was the aspect of the execution that hit home the most out of everything. Out of the disappointment from others, out of the domineering father, out of the wonder and curiosity gained from what would become his talent later on, from the relationship that was tossed out– all of it.

Yoshiki’s eyes grew wide, and his grip on his instrument became tighter. When he realized that the marine biologist was dead, his face was drained of color. That was the end? That was how it would all transpire?

Turning to Keita once more, he spoke with a serious tone in his voice that barely had a hint of his usual childish air, and his face grew dark. His smile had broken off.

"Hey, Poindexter… Or, rather, Yamaguchi-kun, huh? You deserve that much– basic human respect, you know?”

“You sure did set up somethin’ grand, didn’t you? That execution right there? People might be silent against it, and they sure as hell shouldn’t be–”

Unless they’re fucking heartless. He wanted to add that, but he didn’t. Yoshiki bit his tongue to suppress the urge before he continued.

“You might have done a crime I can’t forgive, but you don’t deserve a death as bad as any of what you helped orchestrate. Nobody does. I… I don’t know where this is all going to go, but you’ve got center spotlight, so make your last words all a good one before you’re a goner.”

Then his smile returned, though whether it was genuine or not was another case to debate.