Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Deuteronomy ❯ Answer to a Truth ( Chapter 2 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Chapter 2
Answer to a Truth

The realization about the Truth acts like a double edged sword; it can cut through a web of lies or cast you further into deception as you fall before clashing against fate’s sword. As for Kushiro, he is currently unsure what to take hold as truth. Slowly recovering his sanity from the grotesque images that continue to plague his mind, his guard is surely shaken, but alert as he protects what peace of mind he has left.

Kushiro: Stay back! What the hell are you?!
Miwa: Relax moron, I’m not here to hurt you.
Kushiro: I don’t care; just get away from me!
Miwa: It’s not my fault; Makato was just getting back at you for calling him a flea bag.
Makato: ‘caws’
Kushiro: I said I don’t care! I don’t know what the hell you are; demon or not, just get away!

His crud request strikes a nerve. Miwa’s facial expression enters into a sign of disbelief; widened eyes and her mouth slightly gaped. She willingly steps back while tightly clasping her right arm. She detours her lament sight away from his; hoping to give any leeway to show compliance. She stops as a strong gust of wind blows from behind her; her hair whisks across her face with her eyes being the only visible feature. The fear that enveloped Kushiro’s eyes finally flakes. He could sense the tables had turned and made him the demon towards her feelings.

Miwa: ‘whispers’ Let’s go Makato.

The raven unleashes an irregularly blood curdling screech. Its body begins to expand in size; its morphing feathers dance along its outlines like a curtain of black fire, its ruby eyes shooting a menacing glare at Kushiro, while it engulfs Miwa in its wings. With the raven at its true form, it begins to sink beneath the walkway’s concrete, its smoldering-like remnants slip away into the encircling shadows of the night. A calm breeze wisps by rustling the trees’ leaves; a loose leaf passes by the desolate area as the wind dies down again. He figures he had enough of the city air; he picks himself up, wipes the running remains of vomit from the edge of his lips, and dashes back to his room before his mother became too uneasy to deal with. He figured the way his luck was rolling now, that was an inevitable fate to shake from.
He arrives home with eleven minutes till midnight; the porch lights were currently on along with the streetlamps lighting the walkway. He knew his mother had been waiting for him to return; she never left the porch lights on to burn throughout the night without a reason. Inhaling deeply to suppress the butterflies in his stomach, he opens the door to find his mother balled up in darkness on the couch; fast asleep with Hamaru and Yukio fast asleep. He wanted to creep by without disturbing her, but his conscious would not allow it. That one distinct and appalling imagery that lingered behind from the rest was still eating him. He figured perhaps being scolded would clear his mind. He then closes the door quietly behind him and works up the nerve to approach the resting parental bomb.

Kushiro:…‘gentle nudges’ Mom, wake up.
Ume: ‘groans’…Kushiro? When did you—
Kushiro: I just got home. ‘sits with her’ You’ve been up waiting for me?
Ume: ‘sits up’ Yeah.
Kushiro: We need to talk.
Ume: Indeed we do.
Kushiro:…I-it took me awhile for the consequences to really sink into my head…and I finally understand that my actions can jeopardize this family. It’s just that…since dad wasn’t here for all these years to pull his share of the weight, I just wanted to help out. That’s all.
Ume: ‘hands cling tightly’…I can understand that you’re only concerned about the family Kushiro. I can understand that you’re only looking out for your brother, for me even, but as your mother, I cannot allow you to throw away the remains of your childhood for the sake of the family. To gamble even…do you have any idea how many stories we cover at my job; about kids killing each other over the littlest of conflicts, innocent bystanders caught in the middle of gang violence? Not only do you endanger this family, but others and their children as well.
Kushiro: I’m sorry mom; for everything. In the morning, I’ll give you the rest of the money I have stashed in my room. I hope the trust between the two of us isn’t broken.
Ume:…we’ll settle the rest of this in the morning. You have school tomorrow; so go to bed.
Kushiro: Yes ma’am.

Kushiro then rises from the sofa and proceeds upstairs to his room. Afterwards, he begins to shed the day’s worn clothing from his body, and discards them on the floor. In nothing but his white muscle shirt and gray boxers, he yawns as he climbs into his bed. Before lying down, he reaches for the open windowpane. To his discovery, the same raven from throughout the day continued to watch him from the same spot. He didn’t care; he had been through enough and wanted to forget it all. He then closes the panel shut and slips under the covers.
Dawn breaks within six hours and the family sits down at the kitchen table enjoying a nice breakfast prepared by Ume: sunny side eggs, bacon, buttered toast smeared with grape jelly, and a tall glass of orange juice for the four. Ume was particularly dressed for today’s occasion: a white cotton jacket, draping a light pink blouse, both complimenting her black dress pants, and black heels. Before she left from work yesterday, Mr. Linshaw had notified her and a select few that they were eligible for the news reporter position that had opened. The last one finally gets dressed, as Kushiro finally comes down the stairs dressed in his forgotten school uniform with a brown shoe box under his right arm; the same Miwa wore. It was a startling change to Ume and Hamaru; it was the first time Kushiro had worn his high school uniform.

Ume: I don’t believe my eyes.
Yukio: ‘whistles’ What’s the occasion?
Hamaru: Brother! You’re wearing your school’s uniform!
Kushiro: ‘fixes his collar’ I think I grew a bit. Then again, I hate these things to begin with.
Ume: What’s with the shoe box Kushiro?
Kushiro: This is my secret stash.
Yukio: You’re pushing drugs already?
Kushiro: I was joking last night. This is the rest of my winnings from the losers I wrangled up.
Yukio: How much? ‘drinks’
Kushiro: Somewhere around $3000.
Yukio: ‘sprays spit’ $3000?!
Hamaru: Whoa…
Ume: Kushiro.
Kushiro: Do whatever you want with it. I also want to apologize to Hamaru and Yukio; I’m sorry for endangering everyone. Forgive me.
Yukio: So combined with last night’s winning, that’s a combined total of $3500.
Kushiro: That’s about right.
Yukio: And you’re simply giving this up without a fight?
Ume: Kushiro, the fact that you’re giving up all this money…I’m confounded that you would have this amount lying around in your room.
Kushiro: Well, it was for the family, but this is for the greater good. Right?
Ume: I don’t know what to say.
Yukio: Celebrate? We have the money.
Ume: Brother!
Yukio: It’s not like it would hurt.
Ume: I can’t believe you sometimes. If you’re going to be like this, I might as well take my chances, and burn the money in the backyard.
Yukio: ‘laughs’ I’m kidding. Look, I’ll take care of the money, and you can go to work with peace at mind. Once I’m done searching for jobs, I’ll be back to watch the house.
Ume: That reminds me; I hid the key under the third pot to the left so you can get in.

Their morning breakfast was promptly interrupted by the morning news alert from the television in the living room; broadcasted by an NSN news reporter in a formal white dress shirt and tie; somewhere around his thirties. He stood not too far from the scene; patrolling officers were investigating the sectioned crime scene guarded by yellow tape and three other officals. At the lower level of the screen, the title explained the situation: “Mysterious Burnings: Police find human shaped scorch marks in several alleyways.” Ume grabs the remote and quickly adjusts the volume; all while yelling at the boys to end their brotherly dispute.

John: This is Joseph Williams reporting live from one of the many several sites, located here between 7th and 8th Street; where police are investigating a potential mass murder case! Officers are not allowing anyone near for questions, but they have informed us that among these sites, are reports of scorch marks, which outline the shape of a person! The markings were discovered sometime this morning around—
Ume: ‘mutes television’ God help us all.
Hamaru: ‘whispers’ Kushiro, isn’t that one of the alleyways you cut through?
Kushiro: ‘whispers’ Yeah, and where I met that girl.
Ume: Look at the time. I better go before the bus leaves me behind and you boys should do the same. Brother, do you mind walking them to school first?
Yukio: Sure sis.
Ume: Wish me luck guys; I may get the promotion today.
Hamaru: Good luck!
Kushiro: Yeah. If anyone deserves that promotion, it’s you.
Ume: Only through God boys; I didn’t finish my Master’s program, so who knows. And Kushiro, you stay out of those dark alleys, I mean it!
Kushiro: Yeah, yeah.

Like every morning, the family would depart from their home, and walk at least five blocks to Ume’s bus stop. Luckily the moment they arrived, the bus came creeping around its turn and stops as she flags the driver down. It comes to a screeching halt as the hissing doors open for her to board. She then delivers swift displays of love to the three; a kiss on the forehead of her two sons and a brief hug to her brother. She boards the bus as they part with farewells.
Within the city limits, the streets were buzzing with traffic and crowds of people parading the sidewalks. Numerous stores lined up along their path were open for another day of business; their daunting attractions fetching the many peering eyes from outside. The three were coming up to Hamaru’s elementary school, but come to a stop with the large assembly of on-goers waiting for the signal to change.

Hamaru: So uncle Yukio; what job are you looking for?
Yukio: I’m not too picky. Anything will do as long as the money is flowing in.
Kushiro: Good luck with that. The economy is a bit of a mess here. You’ll probably have to commit murder just to get a job flipping burgers.
Yukio: I’m not too worried; I have an infallible resume that hasn’t failed me yet.
Kushiro: I don’t see how.
Yukio: Well I do immeasurable amounts of volunteer work during the summer. For an employer to not hire a man teemed with ambition and work ethic such as I, it’s their loss in productivity.
Kushiro: Strange. I seem to remember a phone discussion between mom and you about ‘your’ gambling tidbits during the summer.
Yukio: See, the difference between you and I Kushiro is the simple fact that I’m a grown man; I have my own house, eat what I want, pay bills sadly, have a job, and an active citizen. I don’t have to listen to anyone else’s opinion, but myself. Don’t worry though, when you hit eighteen, you too can have the fun responsibilities that I do on a daily basis.
Kushiro: Ha, ha. ‘mummers’ Smart ass.

The light changes and they continue towards Hamaru’s school around the corner; Willow Oaks Elementary. The two story building was wedged between two neighboring building, with the front entrance sectioned off by a black barred fence, and a well kept playground in the back. They say their short farewells and the other two continue onwards to Kushiro’s school. Not much time had passed as they reached the brick modeled entrance. The school’s landscape was fairly flat and well managed; green cut grass and assorted flowers decorated around the base of the school’s three story main building. Not a single construction on the site had any signs of aging. The campus grounds were live with students consulting with their social peers; others went ahead to their lockers before the school bell rang for first period. The color of lavender catches Kushiro’s eyes and notices Miwa sitting alone on the grassy field of the front campus.

Kushiro: It’s her.
Yukio: Her?
Kushiro: It’s nothing.
Yukio: You mean your attacker from yesterday? Where?
Kushiro: Would you be quiet.
Yukio: Is it that purpled haired one over there? Eh, I can see why she kicked your ass. ‘whispers’ Her chest size is above average for a school girl. Is she really under eighteen?
Kushiro: I think lewd remarks like that should be kept to yourself; especially around parents so they won’t think you’re a pedo.
Yukio: Who meeee? Naaaah.
Kushiro: Don’t you have something important to do?
Yukio: Shouldn’t you have protective custody escort you until you reach your class?
Kushiro: Fuck you; I’m out of here. ‘walks away’ You can get your ass kicked by a girl’s father for all I care.
Yukio:…Remember to take your suppository meds for your gonorrhea Kushiro!
Kushiro: ‘stops’…I got your suppository when school is over; just you wait. ‘continues’

Ignoring the highly humiliating comment spoken aloud by Yukio, he walks through the now pondering crowd in hopes to get answers from last night’s meeting. He stops in front of her while looming overhead. Despite his shadow blocking her light, she continues uninterrupted in her meditative reading.

Kushiro: Hey, Miwa. Got a minute?
Miwa: ‘silent’
Kushiro:…‘sighs’ Look, I just wanted to say, I’m—
Miwa: You’re in my light.
Kushiro:…‘steps to the side’ Okay, I just wanted to say I’m sorry for what happened last night.
Miwa: ‘remains silent’
Kushiro:…Will you stop reading that book and pay attention? I’m trying to be sincere here.
Miwa:…You should stay in school. Your long termed absence has diluted your definition of the word ‘sincere’. Lying to me is one thing, but to Ume is an entirely different story on its own.
Kushiro: You keep my mother’s name out of your mouth. She doesn’t know you and you don’t know her; so lay off.
Miwa: Did I strike a nerve, mama’s boy? And you’re right about one thing; she doesn’t know me, but I know everything about her.
Kushiro: Knowing a person’s name is one thing, but you know nothing about her.
Miwa: She was born October 21. Her father, Yoshio Aichi, and her mother, Hanako Aichi, raised her in Tokyo, Japan. She graduated Valedictorian amongst her high school graduates. On a personal note, there’s a beauty mark on the left side of her thigh. She was once diagnosed with breast cancer, but it went away shortly after. Her favorite color is black. Her favorite food back in Tokyo was spicy bento; her American favorite is the spicy curry served by the Indian restaurant not too far from your house. And to top it all off on a current event, she believed every crooked word you spat at her last night.

Kushiro suddenly choked. He felt suffocated, pressed against an invisible wall with no escape. He was lightheaded in shock from Miwa’s dissection of his mother’s personal business. He wasn’t too sure, but he had a feeling all that information came from that little black book. He had to retrieve it. He then swallows the thick discrimination of guilt down his throat.

Kushiro:…Give me that book.
Miwa:…Okay.
Kushiro: You’re serious?

She closes the book tightly concealing its pages together and hands it over without any sign of resistance. It was too good to be true, but he took it anyway in a hastily manner. He opens it hoping to view its contents, to his dismay, each of the pages were blank.

Kushiro: It’s blank!
Miwa: ‘stands’ You didn’t think I would have that kind of information on paper for you to grab, now did you? ‘points to her head’ That’s all from here.
Kushiro: ‘grabs Miwa’s collar’ Listen, I don’t know what you were really doing in that alley, but I’ll find out one way or another.
Miwa: Now don’t make a scene, unless you want me to scream really loud and yell ‘rape’. I’m pretty sure a couple of strong young men will come running to my rescue and beat the shit out of your face. Then again, I’m more capable of doing that myself. Now…let go.

Kushiro knew it was too risky to confront her right then and there; he had no choice. He fights the burning resistance to loosen his stubborn grip from her ruffled collar. She takes the time to readjust her collar; her expression changing from smug to a stern and judgmental stare.

Miwa: I know it all Kushiro. You gave your mother only one third of what was in your stash. You’re the same as you were yesterday. The only thing that’s changed of you is your attire to suit your mother’s image of her perfect son…How long will it take for that intolerable guilt to sink into that ego you call a head?
Kushiro:…The next time I see that bird, it’s dead.

The two stare off intently. Soon the school bell signals loudly of the start of first period. The remaining students march past the two minding their business.

Miwa: Good luck with that. Better get to class before you’re late.

She then blends into the crowd and disappears before Kushiro’s sight. He had a strong instinct that this was far from over. He proceeds into the building and heads for his locker on the third floor. As he walks along the beige tiled floor, he could hear the distinct gossip from his fellow student body and faculty. They were not far off from the facts; notorious with the Wild Fangs, a bad apple from the bunch, and possibly being held back another year. None of their chatter meant anything to him, but what Miwa knew did. He intentionally lied to his mother to continue the accumulation of funds to his cause. He knew it meant his entire trust with his family was on the line, but he didn’t care. All he knew was he couldn’t wait two more years of doing nothing. Yes his uncle was there to help the family at their time of need, but what he had was a greater aid at this time.
He figured with the little white lie, he could use this time to sum up the expenses. After two years, he would be able to apply for an occupation, and use that as an excuse to slip in his exorbitant winnings. It would be paid little by little, but the money will already be there in his favor. Too much was gained for him to simply throw it away by a simple request; he had to push forward.
He then stops at his paint chipped maroon colored locker; locker number 667. It was an extremely long time since he opened it. Last he remembered, he had left his lunch inside a year ago in a brown paper bag. So far no foul stench fumed from the crevasses of his locker. He thankfully remembered his combination number; he had changed it without the school’s permission with his own unique code. After retrieving his long forgotten books that had collected a sheet of dust over the covers, he heads to his first period class, History in room 149 on the first floor.
He then enters the room. His appearance attracts sudden attention as their clamor falls silent one after another; the students’ awe-struck glares follow him to his seat. They couldn’t believe he showed up after missing long periods of classes, let alone abiding the dress code at best. The bell rings once more, signaling the tardiness of those lingering about the halls. At that time, their teacher had walked in. Mr. Coldpepper; a middle aged African American, sharply dressed wearing a crisp ironed light pink dress shirt, black pants and shoes. His black hair was neatly managed like a puffy marshmallow and flat on the top, while coupled with a well trimmed mustache. The students quickly take their seats as he settles himself behind his wooden desk fastened in an authoritarian position.  

Mr. Coldpepper: Morning class. I hope you all have your homework. If you would, please pass them up to the front of your assigned rows. Hmm…I see we have a surprise guest in the classroom today; nice of you to join us today Kujiro.
Kushiro: It’s Ku-shi-ro, sir.
Mr. Coldpepper: My mistake. Maybe if you would like your name pronounced correctly, you should show up for class more often. By the way, you’re twenty assignments behind, along with two five page papers, including another one due tomorrow. I hope you have enough time to squeeze all that into your busy schedule.
Kushiro: Oh joy. ‘thinking’ Why am I even here to begin with?
Mr. Coldpepper: While you’re passing up your homework, I would like to introduce to the class three new students. They’re all part of a foreign exchange program; ironically all three students are from Tokyo, Japan; such as Kuchiro.
‘students laugh’
Kushiro: ‘thinking’ Keep it up. You’re going to need more than a hate crime to keep me from kicking your ass.
Mr. Coldpepper: Now I would like for you all to give these three young ladies a warm welcome to America. Ladies…

The clicking sounds of footsteps inches closer to the open doorway. After the first two girls entered, the last one immediately caught Kushiro’s eye. He was gradually growing tired of Miwa’s constant reappearance. One of the exchange students was the bubbly and kind hearted Suzuki Ibaraki: age fifteen, averaged sized length with sky-blue hair styled in two low ponytails tied with green barrettes, and dark green eyes. The other was the intelligent and prestigious Ayame Chiba: age fifteen, slightly taller than Suzuki. Most of the young girls immediately gasped in admiration of her blonde hair; fixed in an abnormally long ponytail held in place with a black silk scrunchie. Her well nurtured hair reached up to about an extra six inches and curled down to her waist of her black skirt hemmed with two parallel white bordered lines, while tied with a black bow at the top of her head, and dark blue eyes. The three were instantly popular to their male classmates by beauty, while the majority of the other males were intrigued merely by their hormones.  

Mr. Coldpepper: Please introduce yourselves.
Miwa: My name is Miwa Kanagawa. That’s all you need to know about me.
Mr. Coldpepper: I don’t mean to interrupt, but why are you wearing pants?
Miwa: Am I in violation of your school’s dress code?
Mr. Coldpepper: Why yes; section B of paragraph five of the school’s dress code regarding gender rules.
Miwa: Well then, you better get use to the way I dress. My legs are not for showing because of your fetish code.
Mr. Coldpepper:…Very well then. ‘thinking’ Great, another smart ass, but a feministic bitch.
Suzuki: Hello everyone! My name is Suzuki Ibaraki! It’s very nice to meet you all! I hope we all can be friends!
Mr. Coldpepper: My, you’re quite the ecstatic individual Suzuki.
Suzuki: Well, I just love learning! That’s why I’m here! ‘nervous laughter’
Mr. Coldpepper: Okaaay…and last, but not least. Your name?  
Ayame: ‘clears throat’ My name is Ayame Chiba. I’m ranked number one in my high school back in Tokyo and right now I’m currently accepted to some remarkably distinguished colleges with full scholarship coverage; Yale, Harvard, Princeton, Stanford, Duke, you name it. I think by the time I graduate high school; I will be double majoring in Physics and Biology, with a minor in Chemistry. My goal in life is to become a world renowned scientist with the promising discoveries of the many aliments that plague our society. And I hope in the future, for everyone, that we all achieve our determined goals in life.
Mr. Coldpepper: That’s rather impressive. I’ll be keeping my eye out for you Dr. Chiba.
Ayame: Thank you sir.
Suzuki: ‘thinking’ Wow, she’s so smart and pretty.
Miwa: ‘thinking’ Why does it smell like a self-conceited bitch in here?
Mr. Coldpepper: All right then ladies, fortunately there are some empty seats for you due to some absent students. Just pick a seat and we’ll get started.
Ayame, Suzuki, & Miwa: Yes sir.

The three take the remaining seats amongst the five rows; Ayame sitting in the second row front seat, Suzuki takes her seat within the fourth row fifth seat, and Miwa settles for the last available seat located in the same row as Kushiro behind him.
Throughout first period, elsewhere at the NSN news station, Ume was already situated behind her desk answering the barrage of calls that rang in. Another typical day for her she thought, as she hung up the phone and moved on to the next. She kept her head held high, for today, Mr. Linshaw was soon to announce the new news reporter for their beloved news station. The dream job she had yearned for since her early youth was within her grasp. If only it was that easy to obtain. She still remembered yesterday’s nightmarish interview with him. The way he phrased Ume’s chances were practically slim to none. Now it had became a chore to keep her head above the clouds. Without warning, Mr. Linshaw’s office door abruptly opens.

Mr. Linshaw: Everyone quiet!

The room’s noise pollution drops within a second; music to Ume’s ears, though silence was her favorite genre. She often wished his voice of supremacy had the power to silence the buzzing phones as well.  

Mr. Linshaw: Gather around everyone; disregard the calls for a minute! I have an important announcement to make!
Ume: ‘thinking; indistinctive talking’ This is it. Okay, now keep your cool. You’re not guaranteed this job. It’s just a chance; 1 out of 12 of the applicants will receive this position. You’ve been working hard; he’s seen your promo tape. You did good…I think? Ah who am I kidding? With my luck, he probably chose some single, young, naïve bimbo with an oversized cleavage that’s paving the route in her communications career. ‘scoffs’ Listen to yourself Ume; look who you’re working with! This is Mr. Linshaw: hard working, diligent, feared by all his employees. He’s not that type of guy to fall that easily into temptation.
Mr. Linshaw: Without further delay, the latest family member to the NSN branch, and your new news reporter, Ms. Rachael Parker! Unfortunately, she had to call in sick, but she will be available tomorrow. Thank you everyone for your time, now back to work.

A light applause concludes the announcement as everyone returns back to their current stations, except for Ume. Her dreams were shattered before her by someone absent on the first day of their promotion. She knew Rachael ever since she joined NSN and sadly she fit the very description she speculated.

Ume:…I lost…my dream job…to that blonde harlot…absent on the first day of her promotion?...‘heavy sigh’…God, hold me back.

On another note, Yukio himself bumps into a snag in his day as well. After filling out two applications and searching vigilantly throughout the streets for more presenting opportunities, he comes across a tempting moment that places his judgment in a hazardous spot. It seemed like fate was testing him. He gritted his teeth as he was slowly being torn by his conscious; the police station to his right and a charity fund raiser to his right across the street. The owners manning the fund raiser stand were a middle aged Caucasian couple, Mr. and Mrs. Dyer; a bald faded brunette male and a long haired bright blonde female. The two were wearing indigo colored t-shirts advertising the aid to their cause, while dressed in casual wear pants and shoes. The money was going toward feeding the misfortunate children in different countries. Despite their heartfelt efforts, it had seemed not too many shared the same view as they did; the money jar was barren with only a few cents inside.

Yukio: ‘thinking’ This is so not fair…Okay, let’s go over the pros and cons. What am I saying? It’s a charity to feed starving children. Of course it’s the better choice. Then again, giving a group $3500 in public is a problem on its own. But think of the good I can do by giving those poor children a decent meal. On the other hand, if they respond too erratically, that could attract a lot of attention for thief…but their stationed in front of a freaking police department! No one is that dumb to rob someone in broad daylight with the man in blue around!...Then again, there was that one news story about a robber trying to hold up a gun store…

As Yukio shuffles through one excuse after another, back at Kushiro’s school, first period had came to an end; the school’s bell rung stridently throughout the halls. The students erupt from their classrooms and stampede the halls once again. With Mr. Coldpepper gone from the classroom, Kushiro seizes the moment and intercepts Miwa before she could rise from her desk.

Kushiro: All right, let’s talk.
Miwa: You’re very persistent.
Kushiro: I want answers, now.
Miwa: Back off me or I’ll make you!

Outside the doorway, Ayame happens to hear the starting uproar surging from her classroom amongst the clamoring students. She steps back inside and to her perspective finds Kushiro steadily approaching Miwa’s personal space.

Ayame: What’s going on here?
Kushiro: Excuse us, but this is between me and her.
Ayame: You mean, “Her and me”, and that doesn’t matter. She obviously doesn’t want to talk to you, so move on.
Miwa: I don’t need your help princess. If he wants to get hurt, let him put his hand on me.
Kushiro: You heard her; we can take care of ourselves.
Ayame: Or would you prefer me to scream really loud and yell ‘rape’?
Kushiro: You wouldn’t—
Ayame: ‘inhales’ RAAAAPE!!!
Kushiro: I can’t believe you’d…Huh?

Like a command to a pack of dogs, a group of scowling male students appears in front of the doorway. He soon realizes the suggestive position he was in near Miwa and immediately backs off.

Kushiro: It’s not what it looks like!

That didn’t matter; the angry mob was already hot on pursuit to subduing him. With no other choice, Kushiro leaps out his only means of escape; the classroom window. He stumbles out into the courtyard and narrowly evades their vengeful grasps. He flees from his pursers as they squeeze through the other windows and give chase.

Miwa: He wasn’t kidding about that.
Mr. Coldpepper: ‘shows up’ What’s going on here?! Who yelled rape?!
Ayame: I did sir! Those boys were talking about having their way with Kushiro!
Mr. Coldpepper: What?!

Outside in the courtyard, the boys had already captured Kushiro; curb stomping him all around his body. He had nowhere to go and his only defense was to curl up to endure their heavy kicks.

Student1: Look who’s getting raped now, punk!
Student2: Let’s see how you like it when we beat that ass!
Mr. Coldpepper: ‘appears’ Booooooooys!!!

The senseless beating came to a halt; with Kushiro’s white shirt riddled with faint, black footprints, ruffled hair, and red marked bruises. A massive crowd gathers around the windows within the classroom as they watch Mr. Coldpepper indistinctive scold before he escorted them to the principal’s office. With everything settled, Miwa pushes her way through the gathering crowd, and proceeds down the spacious hallway with Ayame keeping up.

Ayame: Pretty impressive huh? No need to thank me. That’s what happens when humans guided by blind justice can’t control their most powerful weapon, their mouths. Miwa was it?
Miwa: Look, I’m not here to make friends or anything, and I certainly don’t need you looking after me.
Ayame: What did that guy want with you anyway?
Miwa: That’s none of your business Rapunzel. ‘breaks away’
Ayame: Rapunzel? Hey, I don’t want my high school reputation to be remembered as some childhood short story!

The two were soon to reunite shortly; second period was both their physical education class. The two were given their P.E uniforms; a white-T with the collar and border of the sleeves shaded in the school’s color, maroon. Along with the top came a pair of maroon short shorts. After observing her other classmates in their restricting and short in length attire, Miwa would rather take a failing grade in participation than a failing grade in dignity.
Their class was located outside; south behind the school. The genders were separated taking up at least half of the running track. While Miwa sat in timeout on the bleachers, the others continued with their physical examinations; running endurance, sit-ups, push-ups, hurdle jumps, high jump, and many other types of equipment at their disposal. She figured since she was sitting out on the sidelines, she might as well lie back, and enjoy the rolling clouds. Though her R&R will have to wait, as Ayame startles her with a loud thud by stomping her foot on the front row of the bleachers.

Ayame: Why aren’t you in uniform?
Miwa: Because I have too much dignity at stake.
Ayame: What are you talking about?
Miwa: Did you ever stop to think why the gym clothes for the girls are so revealing?
Ayame: That may be the case, but the reason behind it is to increase dexterity and flexibility through the limbs. It’s important to maintain our physical fitness to the highest pentacle of our potential.  
Miwa: I’m more flexible in these clothes than that perverted getup.

 Suddenly, a red dodge ball flies in behind Ayame, and scratches the surface of her right ear. The ball manages to lodge itself under the seating’s frame. She shakes off the paralysis of surprise as Suzuki joins the duo.

Suzuki: I’m so sorry! I didn’t hurt you did I?!
Ayame: Not really.
Miwa: A few inches to the left and that ball would have tested your endurance of getting knocked upside the head.
Ayame: Joke all you want. The rest of us will excel in our physical endeavors.
Suzuki: Did I bump into something?
Miwa: Struggle all you like; I’m already fit.
Ayame: Would you like to prove it?
Miwa: I don’t have to prove anything to you.  
Suzuki: Hey, no need to fight. Let’s all be friends, okay?
Ayame: You have nothing to lose. Show us how fit you are.
Miwa:…Fine; on one condition.
Ayame: Shoot.
Miwa: You say nothing to me forever; no warnings, greetings, closures, anything.
Ayame: Okay. What do I get if you fail?
Miwa: I’ll wear the stupid P.E. uniform and the skirt.
Ayame: Deal, but I get to choose the event.
Miwa: By all means.
Suzuki: So I guess lunch together is out of the question?

The deal was struck; all Ayame needed to do was select the challenge. Her vigilant eyes examine the playing field. After a brief critical analysis, she was sure Miwa’s physical proficiencies would not be suitable for the task at hand.

Ayame: The high jump. Think you can clear a two meter jump?
Miwa: Please, I’ll even stick it as a bonus.
Suzuki: Stick a high jump?! That’s impossible!
Miwa: Impossible is nothing more than a negative cognitive to limit an individual’s potential, and you are about to witness said potential.

Ayame’s consistent bothering influences her to take up the challenge. She leaps onto the running track from the third row of the bleachers, as the trio proceeds to the high jump field; a handful of students and their P.E. instructor, Ms. Cottonwood, were present. She wore a similar outfit, but not too unfitting and short, with a dull silver whistle laced around her neck underneath her long black hair with a clipboard in hand. She carelessly shrugs the students to the side, determined mostly to get the pestering Ayame out of her hair.

Ms. Cottonwood: Excuse me, what are you doing young lady?
Miwa: ‘stretching’ I’m about to silence Rapunzel here in my life for good. Mind raising the bar two meters? I’m fixing to stick this jump.
Ms. Cottonwood: Two meters, in what you’re wearing?! You are clearly in violation of two—
Miwa: I’m not wearing it and you are relieved of any responsibility of my wellbeing. Now make yourself useful and raise the bar.
Ms. Cottonwood: You know what? Embarrass yourself for all I care. Hell, if you even manage to stick this jump, I’ll give you a guaranteed A.
Miwa: Lovely.

After her brisk warm-up, she assumes her running position; leaned forward with both hands and feet supporting the arch in her body. When the moment was right, she sprang forth with a powerful start. Each pounding step against the track increases her acceleration, her heavy breathing as she pushes her body to the extent of her limits. She comes within distance for a J approach, curves her running path; and with an effortful grunt, executes her jump. Her female colleagues watch in astonishment as her limber upper body and arched hips clear the bar; her legs follow in. As she clears the bar with the applied force; her body flips completely over, and her feet land their dismount on the pressured, cushioned padding.
Miwa’s outstanding athletic performance had stunned her viewers; Ms. Cottonwood had dropped her clipboard along with everyone’s jaws gapping. Satisfied by the baffled audience, Miwa whips her hair back in place and steps down to proceed back to the awaiting bleachers.  

Miwa: And just like that, I have a free period. No one better bother me; I’m a bit tired from that jump.
Ayame: That’s…that’s impossible! How did you—
Miwa: I seem to remember your part of the bargain being you say nothing to me at all.
Ayame: Yeah but—
Miwa: Zip it. ‘leaves’
Suzuki: Well that was exciting.
Ayame: There’s something interesting about her. ‘leaves’
Suzuki: Hey, it was nice talking to you! I guess I’ll…see you later then.

Just as Ayame leaves, Suzuki once again becomes desolate amongst the murmuring crowd; emptied emotions and branded with sadness by loneliness. Similar to Yukio’s case, he too stands alone amidst the busy crowd; still hesitant on his choice of a good deed. He had to make a decision soon. His distinct apparel wasn’t the only explanation for peering eyes. He had been standing in the exact spot ever since he had arrived. He could tell by their unsettling glimpses; some of the citizens and officers stationed there were becoming quite unnerving of his inept presence. Still, his sights were focused solely on the matter at hand; being withheld with excuses.

Yukio: ‘thinking’ Oi, who knew doing the right thing would be this hard. I need to make a decision and fast…

That choice needed to be decided upon. Just down the street, two officers agreed to make their move towards his suspicious activity; the two black haired officers step out of their squad car and proceed to his location. It didn’t take much for Yukio to notice he had drawn in their attention.

Yukio: ‘thinking’ Shit! What do they want with me?! I’m just standing here with a shoebox…wearing a kimono and hakama…that they think yields a concealed weapon…Charity it is!

He scurries across the street in a frantic pace; an ill-advised maneuver. His movements influence the officers to pursue him across the street as well. He startles the couple at the fun-raiser’s table with the cops closing in halfway.

Yukio: Hello there! I would like to make a generous donation to your worthy cause!
Mr. Dyer: Really sir? I was wondering why you were standing across the street there for two in a half hours.
Mrs. Dyer: Thank you so much sir. You don’t know how much this means.
Yukio: Oh I believe I do. ‘forceful laugh’
Officer1: Excuse me sir. May I ask what your business is?
Officer2: You’ve been loitering in the exact same spot for some time.
Yukio: I will have you know officers that I’m fulfilling my duties as a humble and caring citizen. I’m here to donate $3500 to their organization.
Mr. & Mrs. Dyer: $3500?!
Officer2: As charitable as that may be, I’m afraid I must ask where did you acquire—
Yukio: Excuse me? Are you accusing me of stealing?
Officer1: No sir, it’s just that—
Yukio: For your information this money was acquired through hard earned winnings from my gambling addiction at local casinos! Through the valiant support and loving embrace of my beloved wife and four children, I was fortunate to realize soon enough my immoral actions to become rich had nearly diminished the last of our money. After working three jobs I had finally brought our finances to a stable level, and rediscovered the remnants of my destructive compulsion; the $3500 that I had hid inside this shoebox. My family no longer needs these tainted assets, which is why I hesitated for so long. I figured if I can pull my family from the gritty grasp of poverty and suffering, I could at least shed that blessed light with the children of third world countries. Please accept my meek offer, guided by the sovereign hand of God himself, and serve those damned and unfortunate souls.

After spoon-feeding his story, he takes a bow with his hands extended outward with the box filled with money. The Dyers and the officers, including those who overheard as they passed by, simply fell into tears of joy, compassion, and motivation.

Officer1: ‘wipes eyes’ I know where you’re coming from sir; I use to be an alcoholic and lost custody of my two boys.
Officer2: That’s very touching of you sir.
Mrs. Dyer: Praise ye the glory of our Lord and savior for this sincere offering! Thank you so much sir!
Yukio: ‘thinking’ The fact that I came up with that story on the spot…damn, I’m good.

The day continues on with the afternoon entering. Back at school, fifth period had ended, as the students stampede to their favorite period of the day, lunch. Some had already flooded the cafeteria with clamorous chatter and famished stomachs, while others had brought their lunches and sat outside in the peaceful settings of their flourish courtyard. Ayame being the slowest of the bunch was already leaving her classroom with her books in hand. The halls were surprisingly quiet, but she could hear the indistinctive mumbles of conversations in the distance and through the thin layered walls.
Thanks to the emptiness in the halls, she could hear the subtle footsteps approaching from behind her. Suddenly her personal space is compromised, as she feels a hand run up the back of her left leg. She jerks away quickly and whips around to find three male colleagues. Two of them were black haired, one styled in a medium cut, and the other draped down to his shoulders. The one in the middle was uniquely fashioned; the top was highlighted bright red with the end of his shaggy, spiked black hair. His left nostril was bejeweled with three circular, gold, nose rings, and a silver bead embedded in the center of his jaw. Her scowling glare didn’t phase their menacing and wanting expression, especially the cold and darkening voids in the middle one’s eyes.

Ayame: Back off.
Crow: Where are my manners? The name is Crow. You have to forgive me; most girls usually like it when I’m more direct.
Ayame: I suggest you back off.
Crow: Or what, you’ll yell rape? I saw what you did this morning; that’s some pretty underhanded shit you got going for you. Not sure if you’re familiar with how this school works, but yell as much as you want. You see, at this point, you’re in what I like to call, The Black Row. There’s no one in the section of these halls during lunch, and even if you do scream, the double doors down the hall and back will drown out your pleas.
Ayame: What do you want from me?
Crow: Seeing how you’re new here, I figured I should introduce myself and my associates. Word around the campus says you’re a pretty smart gal.
Ayame: Your point?
Crow: Well, since all the tutors here are a bunch of old, middle aged, tit sagging hags, and you on the other hand; a young, fine, fresh, nicely rounded individual like yourself is available, I was wondering could you help me with my studies.
Ayame: I’m sorry. I have standards I must uphold when it comes to aiding others in their academics; delinquents with no respect for others are one of them.
Crow: So you’re another girl with standards huh? ‘chuckles’ Funny thing about that; I often end up wrecking a bitch and their so-called standards! Pin her down!

His sudden command influences his two followers to step forward. Frightened by their immediate approach, she misses a turn in her step, and stumbles to the floor. The three cackle loudly as if possessed by hyenas as they close in. Her heartbeat flares into a faster tempo as the two pin her by the arms and legs.

Kushiro: Crow!

So familiar with his voice, Crow shrewdly turns his attention behind him to Kushiro; his previous expression still glued on his face.

Crow: Ku-chi-ro. What a surprise to find you here!
Kushiro: Let her go Crow.
Crow: What if I don’t?
Kushiro: I’m not going to repeat myself. Do it!
Crow: Okay, okay, no need to bark at me. Let her go guys. We wouldn’t want Ku-ji-ro here to sick his girlfriend on us now, would we? I’m not in favor of sloppy seconds really; I prefer my meat fresh, pink, and dripping red. Possibly free of gonorrhea as well.

Sure to not challenge Kushiro, his goons release their tightened grip on Ayame, as Crow and his crew exits The Black Row leaving an echoic cackle behind them. With the eminent danger gone, he walks up to Ayame with a caring hand and helps her to her feet. As she dusts herself off, he had already gathered her scattered books, ready to return them to her. Flushed by the kind gesture, she kindly retrieves them with a warm smile of thanks.

Ayame: Thanks for your help back there.
Kushiro: No problem, despite the fact you lied on me.
Ayame: At least you’re not in trouble.
Kushiro: You got five other students suspended for two months because you manipulated their sense of justice! Because of you and my uncle, my reputation has been reduced to a bisexual rapist with a case of gonorrhea!
Ayame: Ew! You have gonorrhea?!
Kushiro: I don’t! Look, whenever you see Miwa and me going at it, just stay out of the way…and make sure you leave fifth period sooner next time. Crow is the second-in-command of the Wild Fangs and the second they spot someone weak, they stay on them. ‘leaves’
Ayame: Hey wait!

Just as the two begin to leave the vacant corridors of the Black Row, Kushiro starts to notice rustling sounds from within the classroom to his left. The noise attracts his gaze and to his incogitable sight, Suzuki was one step away from falling from the third story window. His mind froze over with fear, but his body inexplicable took control, and dashed through the doorway; Ayame was instantly curious of his urgent detour. Through Kushiro’s eyes, it all happened in seconds. Just as Suzuki’s body became victim to gravity, Kushiro was able to reach out to her. He went for the hem of her skirt, and just as he grabbed it, he conjured all of his strength to haul her back inside. She yelps loudly as she fell back safely, but harshly onto Kushiro’s lap. Ayame had finally arrived to the classroom’s doorway to witness another incriminating lewd gesture.

Ayame: You pig, get off her!
Kushiro: You really need to ask questions first before you jump the gun! She was about to kill herself!
Suzuki: ‘sniffles’ Just let me go, please!
Ayame: What?
Kushiro: What the hell is wrong with you?!
Ayame: Yelling at her isn’t really helping you know.
Suzuki: It’s the same even here; no one acknowledges that I exist at all.
Kushiro: If that was the case, you would have become another stereotypical statistic.
Ayame: You tried to commit suicide because no one notices you?
Kushiro: Aren’t you selfish?
Ayame: Would you shut up?! You’re making the situation worse!
Suzuki: He’s right.
Kushiro & Ayame: Huh?
Suzuki: What if I am selfish? ‘curls up’ Not once did I have one real friend who cared about me for who I am. I either get brushed to the side or my words go unheard…It’s obvious I’m not worth anyone’s time.
Ayame: Don’t say that.
Kushiro: Yeah, just because no one notices you, doesn’t mean you’re worthless.
Miwa: It’s not just the fact no one notices her.

Cloaked in the shadows and nested comfortably against the corner, Miwa magically appears before the three. Ayame’s and Kushiro’s sense of concern drastically switches to an unappeasable impression. By this time, Kushiro had grown tired of Miwa’s arbitrary reappearances.    

Kushiro: You again.
Ayame: What did you do to her?
Miwa: You’re not supposed to say anything to me Rapunzel.
Kushiro: What the fuck did you do to her?!
Miwa: You ruined Makato’s show; teenage suicides are his favorite. He finds it funny how they believe the whole world revolves around their egotistical stature. They’re all unable to realize that when they step out of this prepubescent fantasy land; their reigning title of popularity simply restarts. Then when they least expect it, someone of greater status, years of experience in the real world, snaps their pretty little neck, and ironically they become the prey they once had under their thumb.
Kushiro: What does that have to do with her?
Miwa: It pains me to see an insignificant other struggle through strife, especially when the biggest enemy they struggle against the most is themselves. She doesn’t have the strength, the determination, that efficacious motivation to crush another let alone her depression, so I gave her some advice. I told her to do us a favor and off herself.
Kushiro: You’re sick! What kind of person influences another to take their own life?!
Miwa: I never influenced her; she’s already drowning with her eyes closed in a cesspool of her own depression and guilt. I only threw in two cents about her problem. The difference between her and you is that she listens, yet the both of your actions will yield the same result.
Kushiro: What are you saying?
Miwa: Listen, since we have ten more minutes of lunch, let’s wrap this up after school; behind the bleachers. And do come alone Kushiro, Rapunzel and the other girl have no need to be there.  
Ayame: Stop calling me Ra—
Miwa: Shush. You’re not good at keeping your end of the bargain.
Ayame: To hell with you!
Kushiro: You’re not going anywhere!

Unfortunately they didn’t have a choice in the matter. Phasing through the back of the classroom, Makato makes his startling entrance in his hellish and fiery form; his head protruding from the wall like the work of an experienced taxidermist. Ayame and Suzuki shriek in unison as they sought protection behind Kushiro.

Miwa: See you soon.

The raven’s enlarged flame-like wings began to swallow her up once more, and for the first time, they simply slipped away into darkness without a sound. The two girls could hardly believe what they just witnessed. They wondered was she a demon or something much deep than they could fathom, but as Ayame took the time to check up on Kushiro, her critical thoughts came to a complete halt. She noticed that the boy wielded unwavering courage against the unexpected anomaly. She soon realized this wasn’t the first time they had met.

Suzuki: Is she gone?
Kushiro: Yeah, there’s nothing to worry about.
Ayame: I get the feeling you meet that thing before.
Kushiro: More than once.
Ayame: Kushiro, we need to alert a teacher about this.
Kushiro: And tell them what, a high school girl with a raven the size of a mini-van just escaped through solid construction?
Suzuki: It might work.
Kushiro: I don’t care what the hell she is; I’m ending this once and for all.
Ayame: Are you crazy?! She could murder you, perhaps the entire student body even!
Kushiro: All this started because she helped me when I was in a tight squeeze. After that, she’s been tracking me with that damn bird, and getting into my head about living a lie or whatever. I’m not sure what she wants or to do even…but I guess if I confront her myself and settle this, maybe she will leave.
Suzuki: Don’t! If it’s a life she wants, let her take mine! I was going to kill myself anyways! ‘sobs’ I don’t deserve to live! If anyone is going to die, let it be me! At least your life has more meaning!
Kushiro: Will you shut up about killing yourself?!
Suzuki: ‘gasps’
Kushiro:…Everyone’s life is precious. Don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise, even yourself.
Suzuki: But—
Kushiro: I’m not entirely sure what you’ve been through, but it’s nothing to end your life over. It’s just like Miwa said; high school is nothing more than another fantasy. Just because life doesn’t go well now, doesn’t mean it will be the same down the road. So dry your tears, swallow the pain, and pick yourself up.
Ayame: And I’m sorry that I ignored you back then. If you want, I can be your friend.
Suzuki:…‘wipes eyes’ Thank you, but I rather start our friendship on a more formal approach than me crying for it.
Ayame: Don’t worry, Kushiro and I will accept you either way.
Kushiro: Correction; you will. ‘walks away’
Ayame: Wait, what?
Suzuki: What do you mean? I thought we were friends.
Kushiro: We could be friends, but I can’t. ‘stops’ The way I live my life, I’m better off with as few treasures as I can carry. Adding more to that collection would only burden me further down the road. I’m sorry.

He then parts ways from two possible friends, in actuality, the only two people he could consider as friends. When he first started gambling with the Wild Fangs, he took every precautionary tactic he could muster with his mind. He developed and sharpened his senses in hearing, body language, sight, while further working on his physical output as his means of escape. The alleys throughout the city were his personal world; every nook, every exploit, every dead end. He secretly made connections with some of the sellers on his route to secure that none of them followed him home. Most importantly, he had to sever any public relations with his brother, and his mother. The connection they had as a family ceased to be not because of the missing link to their family, but the choice Kushiro made to become the substitute for his father. No more friends, no more family outings, he had to let it all go.
After he had left them, the remaining periods were normal and oddly peaceful; a complete absence of the two, including Miwa. The lack of her poignant lavender hair left him unease. Too often he had seen her throughout his venturous two days, but as he sat quietly in his desk of last period, the remaining bell for today would soon change that. The crawling hour hand of the clock finally struck at three, signaling another academic end of a long day. The elated students burst through the school doors embracing the long awaited freedom of the evening with open arms and a handful of homework; all but for a few.
As most of the students ventured home or continued their day throughout the cloudy, twilight sky, Kushiro remains on campus. He takes his time while making sure no one was tailing him as he approaches the track field. Each composed step he took on the mildly soft yet crisp grass, his heart began to race faster and faster. He didn’t know what to expect from her now. He figured after all her devious acts; she would close in and come to a conclusion soon. His path transfers from the rough green fields to the airy footings of the track field; coming close up on the bleachers. He then takes in a deep breath, exhales loudly, and takes the left turn behind the bleachers.
Right on time; their solemn gaze focused on one another as a soothing breeze rolls by his sweaty forehead. The two stood still in the unsettling silence, not a word escaping from their sealed lips. Something began to attract his attention above his peripheral. The raven was perched atop the bleachers between the two; his translucent blood drop eyes were fixated on his location. The breeze finally came to an end, loosening the discussion that Kushiro had waited for so long.

Kushiro:…Let’s end this. No more secrets; I want to know everything and why me?
Miwa: Cross my heart and hope to die. Shoot.  
Kushiro: First off, what were you doing before you met me in the alley?
Miwa: Come again?
Kushiro: There was a report on the news claiming several locations, including the one we were in, had scorch marks outlining victims. Was that you?
Miwa: I have no idea what you’re talking about.
Kushiro: Hmm…okay. Then explain who the hell are you?
Miwa: I am what you called me; a demon, but I go by another terminology; a shinigami.
Kushiro: A shinigami? You mean there are more of you?
Miwa: More than you can count. They have me sectioned to this city; I was given special orders to keep you alive.
Kushiro: Doesn’t that mess up the timeline or something?
Miwa: Do you know what happens when you disrupt a timeline as it knits history? Its original pattern ends up being derailed, but it keeps moving on. In this case, multiple anomalies can take effect at any given time.
Kushiro: That’s a big risk the higher ups are taking. Mind telling me why I need to be kept alive?
Miwa: You’re very fortunate to be given this rare opportunity; we’re not allowed to do this for anyone in the Living World for any reason. I know Yukio and Ume have been riding your ass this entire time to quit the gambling, but I recommend that you heed what we say as a warning than advice.  
Kushiro: Are you serious? Now death finds my gambling problematic?
Miwa: I found it a little farfetched myself. So I had to test your virtue to measure your level of integrity for myself.
Kushiro: ‘fists tightens’…Are you saying you staged Ayame to get abducted by the Wild Fangs and motivated Suzuki into killing herself?! You waged the lives of two innocent students to test me?!
Miwa: Don’t act like you’re the virtuous hero here! You risked the safety of your mother and brother, not only them, but Mr. Lezner, his wife who is eight months pregnant, and the lives of others that are ingenuously absorbed in your writhing greed! If I haven’t saved you in the alley that day, they would have all died later on because of your unsettled wrath towards your father!
Kushiro: I did what I had to do! He abandoned us when my little brother was about to be born!
Miwa: Your father died!

Kushiro’s infuriated temper undergoes a spontaneous shift into confusion and a subtle hint of curiosity. His intimidating grip loosens a bit; his interest more attentive than before.

Kushiro: What are you saying? My dad disappeared after he went back to Tokyo to volunteer for the rescue team.
Miwa: So you heard from Ume, but she never gave you the ‘true’ side of the story. Here in the Living World, the prevarication of his death was being crushed by falling debris during a search for survivors. Little does your mother or you know, Hiro was balancing another lifestyle, a lifestyle in the Reikai.
Kushiro: The Re-i-kai?
Miwa: It’s the afterlife; his occupation in the world unknown to the living was a shinigami, like me.
Kushiro: That doesn’t make any sense. If my dad was a shinigami, why am I here instead of this Reikai place? Also, would that mean all my relatives on both of my parents’ sides are fakes?
Miwa: That I don’t know the answers to.
Kushiro: Well look at that. Apparently you don’t know much about me.
Miwa: Look, we’re getting off topic here. I’ve evaluated your aura readings during your two tests. To tell you the truth, I really don’t know what to make of you.
Kushiro: My aura?
Miwa: I think a live experiment will suffice.

Kicking up debris, Miwa suddenly bolts towards him with her right hand gradually reaching into her right pocket as she closes in. Kushiro’s instinct involuntarily kicks in and assumes a defensive position while reaching for his trusty knife secured in his pocket. To his disheartening discovery, his heart plummets due to the absence of his fail-safe weapon. By the time she closes the gap, it was too late; his mind plunged into a disruptive cloud of pandemonium. In a speedy and punctual transition, she unveils a bluish blur that pierces Kushiro dead center into his chest; a lightning strike of indescribable agony surges through and ends instantly as he forcefully falls back.
He impulsively clinches his chest. To his astonishment, there was no sign of liquid, no evidence of a physical weapon. He checks the supposed wound and rejoices with a sigh of relief. As he resets his sights back on Miwa, a mountain of disbelief stands firm in his path. In Miwa’s arms was a precise replica of himself, cloaked in an ominous, murky, dark aura, leaned back lifeless with the alleged weapon lodged in its chest; a crystallized indigo five inch dagger with a black handle grip. Though the overwhelming scene caught his attention, the lack of blood about the murder site was more magnetizing. She then carelessly dumps the limp body to the side.

Miwa: The day you are born you have a clean slate. Thus, your aura’s color is pure white. Based on your actions, thoughts, personality, and virtue throughout your life, your aura begins to transcend between a scale of grayish silver and black. This aura determines your survival rate when you die. The darker the color, the richer your scent becomes to looming demons.
Kushiro: What the hell did you do to me?! Am I dead?!
Miwa: You’re not really dead, permanently. I performed what is called a Rirîsu; I forcefully extracted your soul from your body. As long as the dagger remains lodged in your chest, you won’t have to worry about stray souls or demons using your empty vessel as a means to interact with the living. Now then, when you die, the concentrated aura around your body disperses. This displacement of spirit energy acts as an alluring aroma that attracts demons from all corners of your location.
Kushiro: Wait, if that’s the case, isn’t my aura attar—

Kushiro was abruptly interrupted mid-sentence by a mixture of unearthly cackles, monstrous wails, and ear splitting screams. The earthshaking orchestra echoed loudly, managing to drown out the roaring engines of a carrier plane and many vehicles that were passing by the school. The deafening cries simmer down. The shuttering chills continue to course through his body. Never before has he heard such ghastly and devilish sirens echo through his ears; an even more frightening experience since his first haunted house from his early childhood.

Miwa: It’s dinner time Kushiro. Unfortunately for you, you don’t get the merciful ones.
Kushiro: What the fuck was that?      
Miwa: Were you even listening? They’re here for you…

From every nearby shadow that sheltered the countless crevasses around them; one by one, they slithered, crawled, emerged from their portal of darkness. Copious and variant forms of demons begin to reveal their existence; decrypted humanoids of discolored skin tones and severed limbs, massive and muscular quadruped behemoths fitted with razor sharp claws and teeth, hell breed mammals and mythological creatures that resembled the irreligious results of scientific abominations. The demons sluggish approach accelerates Kushiro’s heart rate even further; pressed against the metal structure in fear and soaked in his cold perspiration.

Miwa: In my opinion, you got the worse of the genre; Greed and Wrath.
Kushiro: What?
Miwa: The demons are categorized by the Seven Deadly Sins based on their personality and behavior; Lust, Wrath, Gluttony, Envy, Sloth, Pride, and Greed. Though these demons are classified under level one and two, in your current situation, you’re pretty much fucked either way. Their undying avarice will strip you of what they have lost, leaving you bare without meaning or purpose. Then once you enter that frail and vulnerable state, only a fraction of their mindless delirium would be necessary to break what little is left of your mind, your soul, and your body. Not even a single trace of you will be left behind as evidence of your physical being.
Kushiro: This isn’t fair…my reason for gambling in the first place was to help my mother; to relieve her from my dad’s mistakes. None of my choices was for a selfish cause! Why am I being condemned as a criminal when my intentions were focused on the thought of others?!
Miwa: That’s the consequence of living in the dark to support those who live in the light; no matter how good your intentions are, you are one with darkness.

Time was drawing thinner and thinner; the distance between the two indifferently sized groups were bound to meld soon. Each grueling step they took, he could feel the immense heat wafting from their saturated jaws. They were already enclosed as a regiment of demons proceed to climb over the bleachers; the erupting sounds of bending metal and monotone moans shoot through his ears. Abnormally sized strings of running saliva trickle over his head…he figured this was the end for him; that her explanation about him not dying yet was all a ploy up to this point. There was no point in fighting for his life now. With only a few seconds left of his life, he simply gives up. His eyes close shut as images of those he cared for flash across his mind: his loving and caring mother, his youthful and annoying little brother; and finally a deep breath with a running tear down the right side, his dad.
The sorrowful trail ends with a watery droplet plummeting to the ground. As it barreled to the ground, the damp projectile’s composition begins to solidify, and shatters into tiny shards when it hits the ground. A comforting breeze rolls by stinging the salty and damp trial. He soon realizes something was amiss…The horde of demons was completely silenced and the occasional beating of steamy breath ceased. Not only that, he realized the area about him drastically changed in temperature. His left eye slightly opens to take a glimpse. He couldn’t believe what he saw before him.
His eyes instantly spring back to life as he finds himself still surrounded by demons, but for some reason, the demonic horde became crystallized ice sculptures within seconds. The only live demon about in the area was Makato; who was still perched on the same spot of the bleachers wheezing softly. He looks to the left to check on Miwa; to no surprise, she disappeared, but with his body. As he takes the moment to breathe in the sweet, clean air of life, a startling and distant noise attracts his attention. The racket was growing louder and louder; now becoming clear to the sound of metal scraping against the demonic statues along with the distinct sound of a winding tape measure. Before he could motivate his body to move, it was too late. The eviscerated limbs and upper body parts came avalanching towards him accompanied with the source of their destruction; an enormously lengthy cord with segmented, razor sharp, triangular shaped blades implanted along its structure. The sudden collision starts with an abruptly, ear-scraping, slice of metal, and ends with a thunderous crumble and shatter of steel and ice. Makato manages to escape the near fated death, while releasing a deafening cry into the evening sky as he flies away. The buoyant black feathers dance and slowly drift down onto the crash site, contributing to the last moments of Kushiro Yamanaka’s life…