So.
It's been almost four months. Err. I'm really, really sorry.
I've been oscillating between writer block and plot bunnies attack (the latter means I keep having new ideas but am unable to continue them, or just typing them down is complicated). Still, I really should have updated earlier... Anyway, I'm going to modify a few parts, makes a few mistakes disappear, in a little while (no promises, we all know what happened last time...) to improve it a little. I made you guys wait long enough, so please have this for now.
Thanks to oinkk (here it is, sorry for the wait!), Magus Black (I know, I wish someone could translate the other chapters. Hope this conclusion satisfies you until the real one is revealed), KiraraGoesMeow (woah, that was really nice of you! It's like you knew everything I was unconfident about and instead complimented it, haha), SmileRen (don't worry, Tsugumi didn't die. Here it is, sorry for the wait!), Guest (heeeere it is!) and Dummy Perception (it wasn't very clever of her, wasn't it? Here's the second part of this story...) for reviewing! It gave me motivation to write at least a few paragraphs. Also, thanks to anyone who favorited or followed.
Important:there is one last chapter after this. I know I said "two-shot", but the second part was getting way too long so I chose to cut it. At least it shouldn't be too long before it's up, because it's almost finished (since I wanted to make it one chapter at first).
In case you forgot (quite likely), in chapter one:
Tsugumi is heading for Master's café after school, alone, when she discovers a dark alley. There is a man standing there, a traitor, and he grabs her with the intention of giving a little lesson to Shibusen. He escapes when Tsugumi's friends arrive, leaving behind a message. She faints.
Now, onto the next part!
The sky is red — blood red.
I can't hear a single thing aside from my ragged breaths and my footsteps, which sound like thunder in this abnormal silence. The air is thick, heavy with an unknown threat, and gives off the impression that all sounds were sucked out of it, leaving it empty of life. Clouds of dark matter, in a fashion akin to mist, float around at various heights, most hovering just above the ground, and for a reason I ignore, I avoid touching them at all cost — instinct whispers to me to be careful around those mysterious objects. They head in no direction, only shifting slightly and swelling subtly with every tick of a clock I can't see but still hear pulse in my head.
Somehow, I recognise Death City, even in this state of destruction. Walls are crumbling down one after the other and only leave behind layers of dust that makes my throat itch painfully and my eyes brim with tears. As I walk in the streets, some of the stones, now a dull black, fall off and tumble below – where they fall, I have no idea, for when I get closer to take a look I am unable to find space, only shadows packed together.
When I glance up, there is no sun or moon; only the crimson colour, nagging at me with memories I've forgotten. With the absence of the sun, I wonder how come it is still relatively light outside (with a faint touch of red tainting the air and a veil of darkness as though night is settling in), sufficiently light for me to perceive my surroundings.
Everywhere is red and black, black and red. Up and down and left and right — there is no other colour. When I look down at myself, then too I only note black and red. I am dressed in an all black version of my usual uniform and my skin is covered in splotches of multiple shades of red — bruises, scratches, prints. If I had a mirror, or any other reflective surface, would I see that I still have brown eyes? Or did they become ink-like too?
My right foot refuses to obey my commands, motionless, complicating my steps as I head forward. My chin aches as though it was gripped too hard; my head throbs as though needles pierced through my scalp. My hands are dripping with blood and trembling violently. My stomach is slit open — also pouring out some of the life liquid. My shoulder is pierced through — oozing out blood once again. By some twist of fate, I ended up in a nightmarish Death City, covered in my own blood. Feelings of pain or emotions are strangers to me; any aching limb seems numb — only my head keeps any sort of feeling, although it does feel hazy and muddy.
And so I keep walking.
The clock, barely audible at first, is getting louder and louder as I approach what seems to be the middle of this forsaken city, for the 'clouds' all appears to point the same place.
They are also thicker and grander, though there is still enough space for me to move between — barely. I have nowhere else to head to, and staying put immediately renders me deeply uneasy. I walk and walk for what seems like hours to me. The tick of time goes on and keeps getting more booming; however I can't use the sound to guess how long I have been here. It follows an irregular rhythm, with some noises of all volume added in between the tumultuous ones who have been resounding since the beginning.
There is no echo, I realise with a start. On such a large street, there should be at least a soft rebound. Still, there isn't any; I cast a wearier glance at the dark mist, having an inkling it is the cause.
After what seems like hours of strolling between multiplying clouds, there is none when I finally reach what I imagine to be the centre of the place, a circle of pure black stones and no instalment other than a fountain, set perfectly in the middle. This construction seems as old as any other building in this forsaken city, with its dark stone chipping away, and is relatively small for such a large clearing; with my lack of mathematical skills, I would guess around three meters of diameter. Murky, crimson water flows out of a beck at the summit without making any splash — another nebulosity of this world. A rapid glance in reveals that my reflection does not appear. Cautiously, I stretch a hand toward the water, wondering whether it will burn my skin, poison my veins, or another method of ending my life — if this is living and not an after-death experience. As my fingertips hover just before the surface, hesitant, a voice rings out somewhere behind me.
Inside the infirmary of the school, the last sunrays bled red on the bed set just beside the single window. Underneath the covers, a young girl inhaled and exhaled peacefully, her face inexpressive. The room was silent except for her even breaths and the periodic beeping of the machine relied to her arm that maintained her alive.
The door opened softly and in came two girls who seemed around the same age as the unconscious one. Perplexed, they glanced at the abandoned desk of the absent nurse, cluttered with papers, sticky notes and pens.
"Didn't she assure there would always be someone present...?" the one with long, silvery hair murmured to herself.
The other scrunched her nose in thought, then shrugged it off. "Maybe."
With a sigh, Anya walked to the other side of the room, where the sleeper laid, Meme following shortly after.
"Do you think Tsugumi-chan will wake up soon?" she inquired, seeking reassurance, as she observed her blacked out friend. When no response came from Anya, she added, "Didn't someone say she is mostly likely going to be stuck like this for a very long time? And that she is probably going to have side-effects of the attack—"
"Shut up."
"Eh?" Meme blinked, clueless.
The other meister gritted her teeth. "Don't talk about such things. Sooner or later, she is going to wake up, and she will be perfectly healthy. Okay?"
It sounded more to Meme that Anya was trying to comfort herself that her companion, nonetheless she chose to not point it out. "Okay."
Anya clenched her fists and stared out of the window.
"Okay," she echoed in a whisper.
"You can't."
I swivel around as fast as I can. A girl, perhaps the same age as me, is standing a few feet away. Her skin is so white it almost seems translucent, transforming her into a ghastly figure, and her hair, partially pulled into two little pigtails, contrasts sharply with her skin with its raven-like colour. Her clothes consist of a short skirt and a long-sleeved shirt with a collar, both jet black, and they nag at my mind to remember something. Although her appearance is truly disturbing, her eyes are what absolutely terrifies me. They are entirely white, even including the pupil, with the exception of a thin ring of an almost glowing scarlet where the iris should be. Perhaps it wouldn't be so frightening if it wasn't for the feral look those very eyes give, as though she was examining a prey, or perhaps I could write this off as a simple superficiality (I have heard tales of unlucky ones born with an appearance that kept getting misunderstood, after all), if her black lips weren't presently quirked up in amusement at my cowering.
"You can't touch the source; at least, not yet. Would you please step away before your fingers unfortunately dip in?" Her words are measured and polite albeit it is obvious it is a simple formality and not a sign of respect — not at all, if the way her eyes narrows indicates anything.
I jerk my arm away brusquely, having heard fully the threat underneath her silky tone. This whole world is messed up, and I have no intention of getting too reckless solely as an act of rebellion. Observing me with the same unnerving eyes, she nods with contempt when I obey and take a few short, prudent steps away from the strange fountain.
"It's for your own good, you know," she adds, almost like an afterthought, and I feel as if she wasn't only talking about the scarlet liquid.
"What... What is this...water?" I ask cautiously.
She throws her head back and laughs, a sound that fits eerily well with the still on-going chime of the clock. "Water? Oh, that's rich! I thought you'd recognise it easily."
"What do you mean? How should I know?" Uneasiness causes me to bend my legs slightly in a position that will allow me to run away fast if need comes to be.
"See that?" she merely responds and points a finger upward. My eyes follow immediately.
An enormous clock tower, previously hidden behind the light-absorbing clouds, stands proudly over the city, dwarfing all of the other constructions as soon as the mist shifted away — was she the cause? At the top, an enormous clock pulses ominously, a sound that I recognise as the erratic cadence I have endured since the beginning of this nightmare. I gape blatantly, ignoring her amused smirk at my reaction.
"Does it you remind you of anything? Look at it closely. Examine its every detail. It's very im-por-tant," she spells out the last word as though I was an idiot.
As she intimated, I observe the clock carefully. Aside from its size, it seems like any other clock tower — that I can tell even if I have rarely seen one, if not any, by myself. Dark lines (from afar they appear black, albeit it could only be a consequence of the distance) decorate its snow white façade in an orderly fashion, curves precise and perfect. Obviously, there is some kind of pattern, although I can't identify it. As I pursue my analysis, I can feel the girl's eyes do the same on me, and for the first time I wonder if I've met her before, since she seems extremely familiar.
Then again, this whole place is familiar. Since the beginning, my mind is bothered by a feeling of — something? How I knew I had to move right away when I 'woke' here, how I knew I must absolutely not touch the clouds, how I knew I needed to head to the center and not anywhere else... Even the fountain and the tower weren't particularly strange to me, even if, in fact, it should have. Where did all that knowledge come from? Instinct? Surely, it isn't possible.
"Hmm, visibly, it's too early yet," she concludes with a disappointed tone, and frowns slightly.
'Too early for what?' I want to inquire, but refrain from it. She is shaking her head no so barely it's hardly noticeable, but the gesture still exists, therefore I keep quiet. She sighs; a sound I understand is only to herself
Suddenly, she turns around and glances up at the overwhelming clock. She swivels back to me just as fast, her face painted with what seems like panic, which shocks me. From the first time I noticed her until now, she was always calm; her emotions toned down and hard to read. However, now it is glaringly obvious that she is terrified. What is the cause? I do not know, but the anticipation gives me shivers of fears and my stomach knots immediately — a visceral and uncontrollable fear sending signals of warning in my head.
"We don't have much time left," is the only thing she says before staring at me expectantly.
"Which means...?" I prompt her with a vague gesture.
She rolls her eyes as though I had just failed a test even a kindergartener could ace. "You have to choose. Do you want to live or not?"
Automatically, my eyebrows arch. What did she notice that worries her so much? And what is the link between that event and my life?
She closes the wide space between us in a four long strides, stopping only when she can glare at me from a few centimeters away. With gritted teeth and a rapid glance at the clock tower, she spells out, "Do you want to live or not. Yes. Or no."
This time, my eyebrows knit together. "What do you mean?"
"Ugh, it's easy! Do you want to live? Or do you let yourself die?" She throws her arms in the air in exasperation. I don't appreciate the way she says 'let yourself die'. Am I already on the verge of dying? Why else would she use those words in particular? It feels ominous. But what if there was another meaning to this question? Perhaps it is just another way to word a much more different ordeal. Perhaps death has nothing to do with this?
"Hurry!" she urges me, snapping me out of my thoughts. "It's not complicated, moron. Life or death, you decide now, before it's too late!"
"Fine, I get it. Living or dying; it's my decision," I mutter more to myself than to her. Already I can feel myself frowning: picking a side or another was never my strong point. It takes me up to hours to decide on an action that would normally require a few minutes from most people. Furthermore, rushing me is not helping in any way.
"I ordered you to hurry." Brusquely, she grabbed my shirt and tugged hard on it. Her face distorts into an expression of panic when she looks at the tower. Distracted, I just notice that we are exactly the same height, and how her hair is tied up the same as my own locks.
Startling me, the clock suddenly starts to chime louder, so loud it rumbles uncomfortably in my whole body. The ground underneath our feet also shakes, adding to the ear-shattering noises. All around us, stones begin to fall like a meteorite shower, crashing to the ground before turning into the dark clouds I followed at the beginning. It is becoming difficult to see with the dirt and the mist — breathing is also turning into a complicate task.
Somehow, the girl manages to yell into my ear over the cacophony, "If you want to survive, you must dive into the source!"
Time's up.
I still have no idea whether her 'life' and 'death' mean the same as mine. However, I must go with what I am aware of, and that is my version of those words. Death signifies the end. So I ought to go with life?
I nod, and make to go for the fountain, but she doesn't release her hold on my collar yet. "Only plunge in when I tell you to! Okay?"
Again, I can only move my head up and down, and finally she lets me go as the bell's sound changes to a regular rhythm of ear-bursting ring — counting down the seconds. I dash for the fountain a few feet behind me. Time slows down, as though going trough syrup. When I glance back, it is an apocalypse vision that greets me.
The clock tower looms threateningly over us, the hands covering slowly the surface separating it from the top symbol.
Jet black rocks fall from the sky and smash so hard on the ground it breaks, propagating toxic mist in the air.
The sky is red, so red it burns. Red like flames coming to devour the world, like blood pouring out of a wound until life vanishes and leaves only an empty shell behind.
And in the middle of this destruction, the girl stands. Her eyes are wide, filled with anxiety and horror. I can see her mouthing a single word repeatedly, one I can't hear. I understand it either way.
"Go!"
I dive in.
So yeah, you can expect the last chapter in a week or so. Then, when school leaves me enough time to breathe (finals make me wanna cry...), I'll go back and try to ameliorate this fic, particularly the last two chapters.
Hope you enjoyed reading this, and please stay tuned for the last part!