Akira squirmed in his seat, all the while trying to make himself seem professional and sophisticated, like those cops Mr. Yuuki was always watching on TV. He straightened then, and gulped down a large puff of air, sticking out his scrawny, almost emaciated chest without the slightest weakest shown, though in the end the efforts proved worthless. Still, Akira couldn't help but be a bit proud of himself. After all, he did get a bit of muscle this year, and he grew taller; if anything, he could actually be the tallest person in his class, with the exception of Sasaki-sensei, who'd snub the fact in his face every time he walked into the classroom. His voice was getting deeper too, so it won't be long before he could actually call himself a man.
The fact that Toma was still in high school didn't bothered him one bit. He was around the same age as Natsuno when he fought against the okiagari, and in a way, they both exhibited that same, charismatic coolness everyone was drawn to. They were both really cool, and they saw how useful Akira was in all of this, from handiwork to even simply relaying back a story. Of course, Natsuno had to bail the last second, but nothing's gonna happen this time, or at least, he hoped nothing would go awry. Who knows? Maybe when this was all over, he and Toma could work together to bring other criminals to rest. They might even be a crime fighting duo, with Mori-san as the assistant, and Kaori as the damsel in distress. He did say he knew her after all.
The boy suddenly laughed to himself. Now that was a wayward dream. The stuff that went on in Sotoba absolutely terrified him; he would have nightmares once, twice, three times a week, dreaming about his parents, or the old guy from the shed, or even Megumi. He was never going back to that world again, and the only reason he made an exception of that rule now was because of Mr. Saito. He was discouraged by those illusions, but no so much that he would avoid the subject altogether, should the need arise.
He heard quiet footsteps echoing down the hallway, and through the door, a silent silhouette carried Toma, his presence indulged with confidence and hopefulness. He had three huge manilla folders in his arms, with an official-looking pen that seemed to tie the whole appearance together. There was a serious frown on his face, though his amiable eyes managed to cam Akira down. He set himself directly across from the boy. "You ready?"
Akira nodded. "Yeah."
Toma placed two of the files aside, and opened the third one in front of the boy, revealing the dreaded images detailing the aftermath of the Purge. Wide eyed corpses gazed back at the two, with piercing, white fangs slowly taking up the failing, black gums that were decomposing faster than the bodies themselves. White corneas were seemingly being pushed away by blood, which was leaking out from beneath the sockets, the veins slowly being gorged out by maggots and worms, an unfortunate side effect from not being stuffed in a body bag. Faces mangled, limbs dismembered, and even when Akira would look away, he knew the stakes were still there, still impaled in their hearts. It'd only been a few seconds and already the boy was sick to his stomach.
"Don't look away," Toma warned then, as he closed the file. "They look familiar?"
"Y-yeah…" he managed. "I don't think I recognize anyone in those photos though."
"It's fine. I didn't want you to anyways. Here," he said then, opening up another file and pulling out the death certificates for the residents of the village. He laid it in front of Akira, the signature Toshio Ozaki flourished in its elegant calligraphy. "Do you recognize any of these faces?"
"Were they the ones in the photos?"
"No."
Akira blinked, then leaned over, his thumbnail nearing the edge of the table. "Yeah, I know them."
"What were they like?"
"They were a couple of old folks. They would always just sit around and gossip while everyone else was working really hard. They were always a bit annoying though," he concluded, as he sank back in his seat.
"I see. Well, they were at their limits anyways." His thumbnail slid down to the signature at the bottom. "What about him? Know a guy like him?"
"He was the village doctor. He was the one that checked them to see if they were really dead. He was always right."
Toma odder sympathetically. "So what about them?"
Again, he laid out two photographs across from him. One was a blond woman, who'd look like she'd been crying her eyes out, tears mixed with blood in that deep chasm of darkness. An expression of utter horror adorned her face, and from the looks of things, it seemed she was begging for her life, however wrongful her sins may have been. Another was a man who had pale blue hair, all scattered along the edge of the flames. He had a little, resigned smile on his face. Unlike the woman's his eyes were closed, and the judgement passed was all the less violent, though humility grazed his features so readily. His features were so peaceful it took a while for Akira to see the bullet hole in his head.
But he recognized them.
"Yeah, I know them," he muttered angrily. "The Kirishikis."
Toma narrowed his eyes. "Can you tell me about them?"
"They're the reason behind all of this. They did a lot of this crazy stuff, and they got our entire village involved. If anything, they're the only ones who should be dead."
Toma leaned over. "I need you to clarify a bit please. What'd you mean by that? What sort of mess?"
He clutched his knees tightly, and before long, he found himself confessing a an unrealistic secret he wished would just go away. "It was…it was okiagari."
He blinked. "Okiagari?"
"I'm telling you it was them!" Akira shouted then. "First they killed my sister's friend, Megumi! Then they started killing off the villagers one by one. They turned everyone into monsters and-!"
"Slow down Akira," Toma urged calmly, "and start from the beginning. So they were killing everyone-"
"That's right."
"-and then turned them into monsters?"
Akira clenched his fists, taking a deep breath. He remembered that night, when they dug up Megumi's grave. There was a guy attacked Kaori, a guy who was already dead to begin with, a guy who they managed to bury, all the while trying to convince themselves that they hadn't just killed that person. Their fears were unfounded, unfortunately, and he rose up later the next night. The grave they desecrated firmly confirmed that aspect. "I know it's hard to believe. But it's all real. It's there-"
"Don't worry; I believe you."
Akira stared up. "Huh?"
"I mean, it explains a lot actually. So tell me," he continued, "what did these okiagari do anyways? How did they turn people into monsters?"
This was it. This was it. Akira took a deep breath. "Well…they would have these insect bites on their neck, right around here." He explained, his hand moving toward the vicinity of his throat. "But they could also appear anywhere else on the body, so it's really hard to keep track of."
"Go on."
"They would also lose a lot of blood, or at least, that's what I've heard from the doctor anyways. No, I'm positive. Even at the funeral, the mourners all say they died from blood loss. Where I come from, we don't cremate the bodies; we bury them. So at night, when no one's watching, they would usually just rise up."
"So…they drink blood then?"
"Yeah."
"I see." Toma murmured. "And what did the okiagari look like? How'd they behave?"
"Well…" Akira began, scratching the back of his head, as he tried recalling old suspicions from long ago. "I guess they acted like normal people. I used to have this friend, and he says that they can't come in unless you invite them inside. You can kill them by stabbing them in the heart, and you can ward them off with crosses and other stuff like that. From what the other villagers say, the okiagari can't stand sunlight. I think they sleep in coffins, and-"
"Of course." he interrupted. He sighed after a few moments of tension. "Sounds like you've got a pretty good friend."
"Yeah…he died, when the village burned down."
"I'm sorry to hear that." Toma gave a reassuring smile. "Can you tell me more about your friend? His name maybe?"
"S-sure. Natsuno Yuuki."
"Right. And you also mentioned Megumi. Was she your friend too?"
"O-of course!" Akira answered automatically, even before he could catch himself. "She was…we were all friends. She was the one who'd get us out of trouble with the adults…"
"Do you miss them?"
"I do."
Haru stood in front of the door, in that morning light. His arms hung lifelessly to his side, his wet hair clinging to his neck, the his bright puffy cheeks standing out in winter's dead air. He kept rubbing his hands nervously against his blue jeans, his new, thin velvet sweater clinging anxiously to his skin. A leather bracelet clung to his wrist, with a tiny black thread desperately hanging to the brown, the meaningless battle all the more providing for the chaotic predicament ahead.
He would start toward the door, but then stop himself, not knowing what awkwardness would greet him. Would she be mad? Happy? Did she even want him in her life at all? A million emotions raced through the boy's mind, as he went through the multiple, unrealistic scenarios already grazing his mind, which, of course, caused his nervousness to skyrocket.
He kept staring out the window of the fancy apartment, the long, heavy, green curtains draping their finery across the glass. Potted plants decorated each corner, leaving no space left abandoned. Wooden floors scraped across his sneakers, rejecting whatever muck he had to bring in with him, while callously reflecting his own face up at him, revealing that scared little boy trapped in the woods. Golden chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and the soaring, elegant arches that supported the building was so high, so majestic it made Haru's apartment look like a dump. People with a certain air of prestige would walk pass him, haughtily turned to their phones as they sorted out their newest transactions, business deals, vacation plans, whatever the wealthy had in mind. The strangeness of it all made Haru feel more out of place than he already was.
Kaori's words, however, rang from the back of his mind, and though it was, at best, minimal, the support gave Haru the confidence he needed to, at the very least, talk with them. Knowing Natsuno, he was probably in there right now, hiding away from the torrential nightmares that Toma put him through, if only to catch up on his sleep. And Megumi was probably working her butt off right now too, trying to stay on top of everything, all the while resisting the temptation to cave into her crimson desires. From what Murakami tells him, it seems the company's found a real gem this time. He was happy for her, happy that she hadn't let the opportunity to go to waste.
It was that little hope he immediately gorged himself in, a brief bliss in darkness where he could pretend that they were still human, however worthless the delusion was. And, as much as he hated it, it was working. So he took a deep breath, and knocked on the door.
When it swung open, he'd forgotten how beautiful Megumi was.
She wasn't wearing her ponytails as she normally would. Rather, her hair was down, the strands held together by a black skull ribbon attached to the right. She wore a graceful, black dress, with the hem descending all the way to the floor, giving no room for his eyes to wander about. A dark gold mini-jacket covered her bare shoulders, and even from the mature design he could see a bit of the flare peek out from her outfit, her see-through, black rose glove hugging her left arm. That wild light which usually came with her eyes, however, was gone, replaced by a domesticated dullness that Haru found a bit odd. Nonetheless, he found himself speechless, in awe of the successful designer.
It didn't take her long to shatter that awe.
Her cold fingers grabbed his cheeks then, and pinched them. "Where were you?" she whispered angrily. "What the hell took you so long?"
His lips were stretched wide, and though he had trouble speaking, he was still very grateful. Both hands came around her wrist, and after a few more moments of struggling, he managed to pry her away. "I'm…I'm really sorry," he said sheepishly. "Can I come-?"
She cuffed him by his collar and dragged him inside.
He chuckled at her display of affection, and turned away when she shut the door, a slight blush coming across his cheeks. He had a hard time moving his eyes away from the ground, and he kicked himself for standing there like an idiot. Was he's actually going to act like this? Shouldn't he be doing some romantic gesture, something a Prince Charming would do, like sweep her off her feet (she'd probably kill him) or give her with a dozen roses (she'd still probably kill him) or kiss her cooly on the cheek (she'd maim him)? Should he have brought something? What was he supposed to be doing at a time like this?
But as Megumi made her way back to Haru, he couldn't help but take note of the room he was in, a studio apartment, he realized, with an inside balcony on the upper floor. He blinked, as he looks around the unrecognizable space. That old, beat up couch was still there, along with the piles of blankets tossed messily to the side. That mirror was there as well, leaning against the wall, as well as that ornate table, though rather than stern police reports, sketches and rough outlines kept themselves scattered about, the frustrated lines made more humorous for him to look at. The curtains were lovely as always, their crimson shades blocking out the unnecessary light from which the destructive rays would gloat. There was a bookshelf to the left of the desk, so that was new, even more so since the shelves were all empty. Fabric seams were still all over the place, with large posters of dresses and slacks detailed for the next spoiled, celebrity model. It was emptier than that beautiful, old building. But aside from that, nothing changed.
And in that moment, he relaxed.
Haru turned to Megumi, and laughed. "What? Run out of money already?"
"Shut it," she replied back, taking her place back over to the table. She smiled then, her finger slowly pointing toward the lump on the couch. "Yuuki's sleeping right now."
He soon followed her over to the table, an uneasy relief settling near his chest. "So you're finally getting along, huh?"
"Through unfortunate circumstances, but yeah."
The conversation flowed smoothly between the two. It was like no time had passed at all, and the lie that was cruelly broken was mended within that instant. She laughed lightly at his current exploits, laughed at a world he made up for himself, while he did the same for her. He never told her about Kaori, of course, nor did he mention any word of Virgil Fawn, who tampered with the delicate reality he relied on. The temptation was there, the confrontation, along with a shadow that kept urging him to relinquish his insanity, doing whatever it could to try and break apart the merciless facade, though he never listened. The act of playing pretend was always an escape, though it may be temporary, and he wasn't at all ready to let go of such a feeble, fickle thing yet.
Haru shifted his weight, and leaned against the couch. "I went to that fashion show. It was really cool, you know…without the whole cops thing."
"Yeah, sorry about that by the way. But apparently, my boss thought so too. He ended my internship early, so now he's actually paying me to design for him."
Haru's eyes widened. "That's great. You think you'll make it?"
"I'm not sure yet," she admitted. "Some of the more experienced designers seem…really off, about their outlines. I'm just trying to fix them at the moment."
"I see. So…you gonna go big?"
Megumi shrugged. "Don't know. Maybe." She leaned against the table, her arms folded inward, an unreadable expression crossing her face. "I never would've thought I'd end up doing this for a living."
"You're doing great." Haru urged, an excited smile spreading across his lips. "Everyone at school keeps saying how awesome you are. The student council was actually wondering if you could take the time to design some dresses for an upcoming dance in the spring."
She groaned. "Don't they have stores for that? And besides, how many girls are in your school anyways? No, don't answer that." she added when she saw both his hands counting however many imaginary faces that made it into his mind, about half of which he would forget later. "By the way, Yuuki's getting a little worried.
Haru stiffened, but he relaxed a split second later. "Yeah, tell him I'm sorry about that. A lot's been happening lately, and I needed to catch up on school work."
"Oh? Did something happen?"
He pretended to think, before shaking his head. "Nothing to worry about. It's already resolved, so I'll make it up to him later."
"Or you could do it now. I mean he's right there…"
Haru narrowed his eyes, though the playful atmosphere was still in sight. "The last time I woke him up he nearly killed me…"
"Where was this?" she asked half-jokingly.
He sighed, reminiscing on the somewhat painful memory. "It was in that cafe we always hang out at." he explained then. "Natsuno was just waiting at the table, and I was buying a muffin, right? I just tap his shoulder, and suddenly the guy wakes up, smashes my face, and chokes me with my own muffin! I mean, how crazy is that?"
Megumi blinked.
Obviously, very crazy.
So he continued. "Apparently, he was dreaming about being chased by some killer vampire rabbit. He was running through a haunted house, and by the time it got to him, he woke up. I guess he thought I was the little bastard or something." The moments were precious, and if he could recall correctly, around half the employees were laughing by the end of the day…after they wiped the bloodstains off the table. It was perhaps one of the very few times he was actually mad at Natsuno, aside from his apparent stubbornness of doing anything remotely fun.
The girl bit her lip. "You two really are a sight for sore eyes."
"You really think he'll be alright?"
"I don't know. I mean, Yuuki will be mad at first, but I suppose it's natural. You're both friends, right? It's not a problem," she assured.
"I…hope so."
"But, just out of curiosity…do you remember what you were wearing that day?"
"It was a prank." he answered, surprised by her sudden interest. "A couple of kids from my school got together and glued bunny ears to my hair."
"That's right!" she pleasantly said. "You got lumps of hair all over my floor."
Author's Note:
Bunnicula was a very interesting book.
