The Spirits of Language

- Kotodama no Monogatari -

Aphorism

Chapter Two: Legacies

His roommate was ridiculous.

After Kawasaki helped him scrub the flecks of blood from his face, they accompanied the two girls who had fought with them to dinner. It was surreal, almost as if they were no longer alive, and eating was pointless. Kawasaki, for all his cheer and endless chattering, kept his composure and quietly spoke with them over their trays of untouched food. It wasn't much by way of conversation - just simple small talk and introductions. They pointedly ignored the other students in the middle of their midlife crises.

Although, it had been hard not to jump when someone threw a chair at the wall, shattering the wood into splinters. Makoto could respect that, he supposed. If he didn't already know that something like this would happen one day, courtesy of the government, he might have reacted the same way. Really, all he could do now was scold himself for falling into such a blatant trap. He had tried to warn his parents that a free tuition was too good to be true.

"What's the purpose of this...experiment anyways?" Makoto grumbled aloud, fingering the brand - tattoo, as Kawasaki called it. There was no doubt in his mind that it was some government experiment, but he had no idea what they might intend to test by forcing those monsters on them. He wondered what poor creature they had to genetically alter to create those grotesque things. There was also the question of how they appeared and disappeared so easily, melting into the ground within seconds.

"Experiment…?" Kawasaki muttered. He shook his head. "I don't know, either. The teacher just said that those monsters were a test of sorts. All we have to do is defeat each enemy that comes until we graduate. We don't even have to pass all of our classes to graduate."

"Will they really let us graduate at this point?" Makoto asked no one in particular, for no one had an answer.

Honda Ayako who was in their homeroom left to the class two dormitories with the boys. She had been the one to wield those swords and hack into the monster just barely stalled by Makoto's barrier. A tall, fierce girl, she had originally intimidated him with her stony face, but Honda was actually rather friendly.

Although, Makoto was in the process of redefining the word "friendly" according to his experiences. To Kawasaki, the word meant that they could skip past the stage of acquaintance and become instant allies, and to Honda, it meant that she could play the act of a mother to her wayward children. The auburn haired boy didn't seem to mind her insistent nature, reminding them both to take care of their health between classes and the Blights. She fixed a few stray hairs for them, asked if they brought enough clothes and toiletries, not that she could really do anything about that.

Makoto didn't think his own mother harped after him so much, even after she found out that he would be away for an entire year without any method of communication with the outside world. It was a strange way of worrying about your friends, but he supposed it could be worse. He could be rooming with that girl (if he was a girl, that is), and then he would never hear the end of it. He could even be rooming with Kawasaki, who would never allow him a minute of sleep and silence.

Kawasaki parted ways with him, off to terrorize his new roommate across the hall, his usual expression plastered on his face again. At least, Makoto could only assume that the amiable, smiling persona was his true self. It suited the boy, in both his mannerisms and hairstyle and choice of clothing. It wasn't hard to guess that he followed pop culture enough to know the fashion styles.

He turned to the door to his dorm room, peering at the name tag posted out front. He wondered whether or not the room arrangements had been decided before or after the Blight, and shivered at the morbidity of the situation. Half expecting a cold, bare cell as a room, Makoto slid the key that came in the mail with his ID card into the door. Pushing it in, he was met with total darkness, shimmering around the center slightly from the single window with its pale curtains hanging limply in front.

It would have been nice if he didn't get a roommate, but he winced as soon as the thought entered his head. He couldn't guess how many students were left, only that there were approximately two hundred to start. There must have been plenty of rooms with only one occupant, but he didn't know whether or not the school administration shuffled the numbers around until everyone had a roommate. He didn't know why or how this place ran anything.

"Hello…I'm Nozawa. Is there anyone in there?" he enunciated into the darkness, straining his eyes to search the inky shadows for any movement. After a moment, he shuffled inside and groped along the wall for the light switch as the heavy door closed.

A few cardboard boxes and suitcases with personal belongings littered the floor and stacked on the desk. Seeing that no one was around, Makoto moved inside and flipped the luggage tag over on one of the suitcases. It read, Nozawa Makoto, Setagaya, Setagaya Ward, Tokyo. The longer he stared at the slightly worn cardboard, the more he remembered packing them with whatever his mother told him to bring along. Truthfully, he probably wouldn't use half of these things.

"Is...there no one here?" he called out hesitantly, a little louder than before. He hadn't wanted to seem weird in the doorway before, in case his roommate really was dead and someone else was aware of that fact. What did they do with the belongings, then, he wondered? All those cases of luggage might draw suspicion when the collectors came to gather the trash. For that matter, how could garbage collectors and other staff come and go without slipping information to the outside world?

One door led to the closet, the other to an adjoining room. Makoto rested his hand on the door knob, pressing on after a moment. It could't hurt to investigate. His roommate might still have been at dinner, so he would be satisfied with a small peek before he left. It seemed that this school had more room than he first anticipated, but then again, only one year attended the school at a time. Instead of the relatively small class size of two hundred odd students, there were even less after the first day.

"W-who's there?" a small, high voice erupted from inside. Makoto jumped backwards at the sudden noise. He had been in the process of slowly convincing himself that he didn't have anyone to stay with after all, and he still could't quite locate the boy. If he didn't know beforehand that boys and girls were separated, he might have confused the voice for a girl.

Then again, he could forgive the guy for being scared out of his mind. Not everyone had anticipated something horrendous like this happening for years already. That was probably the only thing keeping him from throwing chairs and utensils at the walls.

"I'm your roommate, Nozawa. Nozawa Makoto," he added as an afterthought as he absently peered around, resigned to not knowing where the boy was in the room. He figured that he would reveal himself after a while, if he wanted to emerge at all. His name was on the plate next to the door, so their names weren't a secret or anything. "You're Takamura Haruo, right? Is that how you pronounce it?"

"Y-yeah...hey, there..there aren't anymore monsters around, right?" said the timid voice. Makoto was more easily able to distinguish it as belonging to a boy. He responded in the negative, commenting that the last of them had disappeared hours ago. It was hard to believe that so much time had elapsed, actually. He spent most of it in a haze, shifting along with the movement around him, never quite making a pressing decision for himself.

"So, you...you didn't know about this either, did you?" the boy asked. He heard the shuffle of sheets, so perhaps he was hidden behind the curtains on the bed. It was difficult to discern where the sounds came from. Makoto shuffled his feet together, scraping one against his opposite leg to readjust his sock. There was a neat little entryway for their shoes. It had confused him to see the area empty, so he hadn't expected to find anyone here.

"Well...uh, kinda, I kinda did," Makoto mumbled, apparently loud enough for the boy to hear if his startled, scandalized shout was anything to go by.

"You knew and you still came to this place? It's hell! Why would you want to come here?" His voice tapered off to a low whisper, forcing Makoto further into the room to catch his words as he simultaneously shook his head. He wanted to know the answer to that question, too.

"It's not like that. I didn't want to come here; my parents forced me. I mean, I didn't really know what the school would make us do, but I never really thought it was normal, you know? I just...I had a feeling, that's all. Do you understand that, or is it too confusing?" Makoto's eyes flickered around the room. He supposed he could turn the lights on, but it would be somewhat disrespectful. "I don't know why anyone would want to come here, either, even if we do get government jobs."

He was starting to doubt that, but it would be best if he didn't tell his roommate about all his misgivings concerning the government. His mother had often scolded him for corrupting his friends and classmates with such blatantly traitorous words. Even though he knew he was not wrong, he had stopped voicing his opinions to random strangers after he got into trouble a few times in his last years of elementary school.

"Well...well, you can turn on the lights if you want," his roommate mumbled, still sounding uncertain as to whether or not Makoto was some insane teenager seeking a thrill through fighting monsters. Now that his brain had time to process all the sensory information that had flooded the grounds earlier, he distinctly recalled a few stony faced students who knew exactly how to move. There really were real participants here, ones who had probably chosen better characters than "gateway".

Makoto flipped the light switch on and waited as the lights flickered and stilled. His eyes swept across the room, from the desk to the bed to the closet, finally finding his roommate huddled in the corner hidden between the desk and the bed. The blankets were thrown over his form and his shiny new school shoes peeked out from underneath the mass of cream sheets. A pair of wide eyes more skittish than Makoto's stared at him, examining him from head to toe for any signs of monster-like qualities.

He shuffled uncomfortably, unused to being stared at with such intensity, treated as if he were a tiger with sharp, blood tinted fangs. He usually tried to avoid drawing attention to himself. Any lingering stares meant that someone was suspicious of him, and he had to strive to fit in with society. He couldn't let them know that he was different from everyone else. Even though his roommate seemed relatively harmless, as harmless as a cornered rabbit anyways, he couldn't allow his old habits to slip.

"So, Takamura...I guess you're staying in this room?" he asked to break the awkward staring. All he could see were those big brown eyes emerging from the blankets, along with a pale nose and his cheekbones. The other boy nodded. Maybe he was being polite and not mentioning why (if anything comes in, you're the first thing it sees). Makoto nodded back to him slowly. "Are you...going to take your shoes off?"

"I will," he answered, though he made no move to take them off. Makoto raised his eyebrows and began a steady retreat from the room. Turning the lights on had made the situation worse, apparently.

"Alright...it's pretty late, so I'm just going to go to bed...um, don't stay up too late, yeah? It was nice meeting you." Makoto bowed on his way out, closing the door and hastily returning to his luggage to rummage through his belongings. He was not about to borrow any from Honda Ayako, no matter how desperate he was. Besides, his mother had made sure he packed every necessity. It was just a matter of finding everything.

For at least a little bit, he thought that this might have been what normal students did at a boarding school.

Class the next day resumed as any normal school year might. The occupants of their homeroom had drastically decreased, and they found out that about a hundred and ten of them had survived the first day. His class two probably had about thirty students, more or less. No one in this school seemed overly concerned about the number of students present. The teacher didn't even bother to take a roll call.

Kawasaki had evidently recovered from the adrenaline and shock of yesterday's activities. He had returned to his bright, amiable self, speaking animatedly with anyone who would listen. During their lunch break, he dragged Makoto - who was still debating whether or not they were friends - and Honda Ayako away to a far corner of the classroom to eat. Makoto introduced his roommate to them, but Kawasaki apparently didn't think to include his. He wasn't sure who the guy stayed with, because he had never mentioned it.

"This is Takamura Haruo. Takamura-san, this is Kawasaki-san and Honda-san," was how those introductions went. It was rather bland, a normal introduction between classmates, unlike their completely abnormal circumstances.

Apparently the teachers had taken some precautions this year.

At least, that was what he assumed from the chatter of the students who had known about this strange school. He learnt a lot from them, actually, but he could barely hear over Kawasaki's obnoxious rants. The other students chuckled at the few "amateurs" who clutched their manifested weapons like a lifeline, but his new acquaintances were hardly bothered. And although Makoto wasn't quite put at peace, his body more jumpy than a normal day, he mimicked their relaxed poses to the best of his ability.

He glanced at the chalkboard, upon which was written, "Anyone who attempts suicide will be punished harshly," which didn't quite make sense to him. How would they punish someone who wanted to die? He winced at the thought of his fifteen year old peers considering suicide. This place might have been horrible, but he apparently valued life too much to even think about putting a blade to his wrist or throat or something like that.

It was harsh, but they had a chance to live, didn't they?

Then again, knowing the government, perhaps they didn't intend to keep them after all. Maybe they would all end up dying by the end of the year anyways, and those attempting suicide were just the smart ones. He shivered and clutched at his sides at the thought of the students becoming the government's mere guinea pigs, worthless lab rats that were of value only when they were dead. The brand on his neck burned with a different sort of pain than yesterday.

"Hey, why're you so quiet all of a sudden?" Kawasaki said as he intruded upon Makoto's personal space, nearly nose-to-nose with the other boy. He glared at the guy with his fluffy, auburn dyed hair. He hadn't spoken the entire time, besides murmuring yes and no a few times. At least he knew that Kawasaki wasn't completely inept at reading people. "Come on, talk to me! Where do you come from? What was your hometown like?"

Makoto backed away as far as possible in his chair, leaning away from the boy with a skeptic raise of his eyebrows. "I'm from Setagaya, Tokyo. It's not in the city. I live in the residential area. It's like anywhere else in Japan."

"...That's all you have to say?" Kawasaki frowned, as if he expected some grand tale of city gangs or the idyllic reminiscing of nature from the countryside. Makoto shrugged and leaned back against his chair. "Well, you're no fun. Honda-san here is from Niigata, a rural place with lots of farms. And what about Takamura-san?"

Takamura, looking as skittish as the students clutching their weapons to their chests, glanced at Kawasaki briefly before turning to his constant survey of the room. "I'm from Kyoto, outside the city."

"Wait, you don't have an accent…" Kawasaki exclaimed, as if he had just discovered some wonderful, impressive object like a rock or something. Takamura, surprisingly given his flighty personality, glared at Kawasaki and exhaled a sound akin to a huff.

"We came from Tokyo originally. Not everyone in Kyoto has such a heavy accent. I don't even live in Kyoto the city. It's just in the same region, but I doubt you'd know the name of the town."

"Well, excuse me." Kawasaki frowned and turned away from the boy he had apparently deemed unpleasant. Honda had been glancing between the two since their little argument began, a disapproving frown on her lips. It was the sort of chilling disapproval a mother might give you when you had done something terribly wrong. Her arms were crossed and a string of words seemed ready to erupt from her mouth.

To Makoto's surprise, she only said evenly, "Stop being children. You two are big boys now, aren't you? Please act your age."

"Do you have any siblings? I have none," Makoto told the group, just to dispel the tension, or at least to stimulate a conversation that would. It was the first thing that came to mind - and a dangerous question, once they had started talking.

Before anyone had a chance to speak, Kawasaki lurched to the side, almost on the verge of falling off his seat. He waved excitedly towards the door, motioning someone in from the outside, inevitably from another class. Perhaps their teachers had decided to release them or just didn't care one way or another anymore. A girl walked in, the same one from the first day. She hadn't had a weapon, but stayed with Kawasaki and Honda, seeming like she knew what she was doing.

"Hey guys, this is Morioka Mikie from class three. I met her waiting for the train to arrive in Naraka City. You remember her from the first day, right?" he grinned, motioning her over to an empty chair. There were plenty of those in supply. "So, we were just talking about families, yeah? Makoto's an only child. As for me, I have one big brother and a very little sister. My elder brother went to school here and graduated three years ago, right before the chain of bad luck began."

Makoto wanted to ask what that was - the chain of bad luck - and how Kawasaki knew about such topics, but Takamura interrupted him with an indignant shout.

"Your brother went here and managed to graduate? Then why in the world did you come, too?" He seemed wildly perplexed, and rightfully so. Makoto wanted those answers, too. He attributed it to his aversion of the government, he didn't think the bright future was worth it, whether or not they had to risk their lives.

"Some students are legacies," Morioka intervened evenly. She had that type of voice, a rational one, and almost monotone like their teacher's. "There's a lot of us who knew about the school coming in, and came specifically because of that. My older sister and her twin brother went to this school. Both of them work for homeland security in the Self-Defense Forces*. It's worth it, if you can survive. It's just our unfortunate luck that the school's been having a few bad years when we're entering our first year of high school."

"Exactly what she said," Kawasaki beamed, oblivious to Takamura's dismay and completely devastated face. It was an odd parody of...something, Makoto decided. "My brother works for foreign affairs. Of course, he did go to college after graduating, but coming here pretty much guarantees the job you want later on. So I guess you can call us 'legacy' students, but our relation doesn't help much besides knowing ahead of time what to expect, if that comforts you."

Makoto had a feeling it did nothing to help, but he nodded. It was a good deal of nice information to know, at any rate. It seemed that Takamura thought much less of their calm lesson of the student population, because Makoto thought he saw a panicked expression on his face before he jumped up and fled. His chair rocked precariously and tumbled to the ground as he ran from the room. Their homeroom teacher evidently no longer cared.

"You'd better not think of killing yourself, boy!" was all he had to say before returning to a thin paperback in his hands. Makoto flinched; that was pretty harsh.

"How many students are 'legacy' students?" Honda asked, curious and curiously, quite interested in the subject. "I never heard anything about it, but I thought maybe that was only because I'm from the countryside. I'm lucky I even heard about the school to begin with. But I knew I had to go, because otherwise I'd go to some no-name school in the countryside and hope to get into a decent university."

"Well, given the number of people who actually survived the first day…" Kawasaki said. "About half of the students on the first day know what the school's about. I'd guess that about a quarter of all the students are legacies. There are those of us, of course, who lost relatives here. Some of those don't come back, I would imagine, but there are some who attend anyways."

"Would you send your kids here?" Makoto asked suddenly. The question had simply occurred to him, no complex thoughts required. Kawasaki gave him a curious stare.

"If they wanted to, yeah, if I ever have kids. It's a good school if there's no hope of you ever getting into a real private high school and a top university, especially if you don't have money and can't get a scholarship. It's dangerous, but...just think of it like a metaphor for life?" Kawasaki ended lamely, exhaling an uncertain chuckle.

"I don't think I would," Honda replied quickly, a strong conviction to her tone. "I definitely wouldn't. For me, sure, it's worth it now that I'm stuck here. But I wouldn't let any of my kids come. I just couldn't do that. I have a lot of siblings at home. Just thinking of them attending here is…"

"It's not for everyone, I guess," Kawasaki shrugged. He probably had no problem, and Morioka had been quite this entire time. Both of them had not suffered any major losses due to this school, at least that they would speak of, so it was natural that they not quite understand Honda. Even Makoto could not understand her reasoning fully. To him, it was just wrong to play into the government's hand in the first place.

"Then...what's the story with the characters?" Honda brought up. She pointed to her upper left arm, presumably where her brand was located under her uniform. It had something to do with a "sword" or at least, that was what Makoto guessed. He still hadn't gotten a chance to investigate his own. It didn't hurt anymore, but that probably disturbed him more. Now that he was conscious of it, his hand went up to finger the spot. He didn't know what it might look like.

"Oh, that...that is...a really complex story," Kawasaki chuckled, almost nervously, as if he didn't quite want to answer anymore.

- Oh yeah, I'm kind of seriously writing this story for NaNoWriMo. But I probably won't get 50,000 words. Ah well.

* Self-Defense Forces are Japan's equivalent to an army, since they are no longer allowed to have one as of WWII.