Chapter 55
Hagakure didn't have much of a home. His tent was a cheap one found in a hardware store. Around it were boxes with sloppily-placed tops and garbage bags hanging by ropes from branches. The grass around his base had been tromped down and reduced to dirt. Non-native plants stuck out of the soil, and the thorns of one pricked her leg as she passed by.
"Alright, we're good now," Hagakure said. "So, tell me about these aliens? Why do they want all our cows?"
". . . That's a different species," she said.
"Then we're talking about the ones who built the pyramid, right?" Hagakure gasped. "I knew it!"
"Yeah. Sure," she said.
"That doesn't sound sure," Hagakure said, surprising her by being smart enough to figure that out. "Okay, we'll start from the beginning. What do they look like? Do they have big foreheads and three fingers? Do they have lizard eyes? Is it true? Is the Queen of Britain an alien?!"
"Fangs," she said. "They have large, sharp fangs like a wolf and eat fish of a species I've never seen before. They seem to have telekinetic powers." (She remembered the twisting shadows that had converged on Naegi. "That or their physical form isn't perceivable by the naked eye alone. They don't age in their human disguises."
She tried to remember what that statue in Yonaga's room looked like, but the moment the barest hint of a form came to memory, her toes curled in fear. Blood rushed in her ears as her vision dimmed, and it only went away when she forced herself to think about different things.
"Doesn't sound like anything I've heard about," Hagakure said. "You sure they don't have lizard eyes?"
Had she really expected to get something useful out of him? She answered, "I can't say for certain. I have never seen them in their true forms. It's possible that they have reptilian eyes, but I doubt they're the same as what you're thinking. The only way to reliably identify one in their thrall is by a tattoo that looks like a lighting bolt on their thigh."
"Tattoos!" Hagakure hissed. "I told you they were evil! Oh, so what happened to Naegi-kun?""
"They bewitched him," she said. "While I was indisposed, they approached him and offered him that tattoo. They must have tricked him, because he accepted. Now they've taken him, and nobody will believe me, and they've already killed the only person who seemed to understand how to fight them."
Crack.
She blinked. Hagakure offered her an open beer. She wasn't one for drinking, but . . . Fuck that.
As the bitter liquid sloshed down her throat, Hagakure remarked, "That's the good stuff. I can't buy it too often since the government won't let anyone hire me. I was saving it for a special occasion since it's so rare for me . . ."
She rolled her eyes and thrust a ten-dollar bill at him. Hagakure snatched it and stuffed it into his pocket.
He opened a can of beer for himself. "I know how you feel. People don't believe me even though I'm right 30% of the time. I gotta say though, what you're talking about reminds me a lot of Hinata."
The beer can crumpled in her hand. "What?"
"Yeah, Hinata Hajime! Remember how I was telling you and Naegi-kins about that friend of a friend who got a tattoo? That was him! Apparently, he was hanging out with some super secret conspiracy group and then one day, he comes back with a tattoo and starts acting weird. Soon afterwards, he vanished, and my friend told me that the people who gave him the tattoo were responsible. You get what I'm saying right: obviously the government made him disappear so he couldn't talk!"
"Define acting weird," she said, forcing herself not to go for the big question right away. She didn't want him to catch onto her.
He shrugged. "I dunno. I didn't know the guy very well. But my friend said he got kind of snooty and more aggressive. Oh, and he was obsessed with water."
Obsessed with water. . .?
"Your friend's name, what was it?" she asked.
And he answered, "Nanami Chiaki."
It hit her like a bat to the head. Her knees buckled, and she had to sit down. Hagakure. Out of all the goddamn people it was Hagakure who had known, and she had never asked. (Granted, if she had, there was a good chance she wouldn't have believed him.)
"She's off looking for him now," Hagakure said, oblivious to his friend's fate. "I told her I knew Hinata wasn't dead, so she decided to go after him."
"You know he's alive? How? Did you meet Kamukura Izuru?"
Hagakure frowned. "Who?"
"Never mind. How do you know Hinata was alive?"
"Because she paid me to perform a séance!" Hagakure smiled to himself, proud of how he had taken advantage of his friend's grief. "I got all the stuff set up, lit the candles and guess what? Nothing happened! If Hinata didn't answer when I summoned him, then the only explanation is that he's alive!"
Ridiculous. It was ridiculous. It was nonsense. And yet . . .
"What does it take to perform a séance?" she asked quietly.
"Is there someone you want to talk to?" Hagakure crackled his knuckles and rubbed his palms together. "Depends on how long they've been dead and who they are. If you tell me the details, I can give you a cost."
"You're charging me?"
"I take cash and cheque."
The next hour and a half were one of the weirdest of her life. White chalk had stained her gloves from helping him trace out a series of crescents that spiralled and overlapped each other in a circle. The table cloth the chalk laid upon was deep purple, though in the dim lighting, it appeared black. Hagakure had taken a thick tarp and thrown it over the already-thick fabric of the tent to block out as much light as she could. Only the candles, three in total, let them see now and she didn't like it because if just one fell off the table, the whole place could go up in flames. Hagakure hung up a couple of blue-feathered dream catchers by the door to stop bad spirits. (She was pretty sure that was not they were supposed to do, but she didn't bother to correct him.) He lit incense, five this time, and placed in in the center of the chalk symbol. It wasn't long before a haze spread over the tent's ceiling.
"You want another drink?" Hagakure asked. "Everyone tells me seances are always more fun with a bit of booze. Super cheap, I promise!"
She declined. She wanted to make sure she was completely aware for this.
"Suit yourself." With that, Hagakure took a large swig of his own drink.
"Are you sure you should be doing that?" she asked in alarm.
He tried to answer too quickly and choked. Once he recovered, he said, "Sure, it's fine. Just makes it easier for the ghosts to speak. Let's get started, then."
They sat across from each other, reached out and joined hands. Though she let go of Hagakure's hand so that she could pick up the script and review it again.
Hagakure laughed. "Relax. Just speak from the soul and everything will be fine."
She reviewed it again. "Alright. I'm ready."
They joined hands once more. Hagakure closed her eyes and following his lead, she did as well. A few seconds afterward, he squeezed her hand to let her know to begin.
"Spirits of the past, move among us," they chanted. "Be guided by the light of this world and visit upon us."
They said it thrice more, than addressed the ghost by name. She thought she heard something, but Hagakure started the chant once more and she knew it was not time.
Again and again, they spoke. Each time, the flames flickered but nothing else happened. Just when she was about to give up, Hagakure's hand tightened so much around hers that it hurt.
She opened her eyes. "Are you . . .?"
Her query about his wellbeing stopped short. Hagakure crouched over the table, shoulders trembling. She thought he was choking and nearly went to help, but then his chin snapped up and his eyes were pure white. His head tilted to one side, mouth falling open like a puppet with a broken jaw.
"Where am I?" the spirit gasped. "Am I finally free?"
"Hello. Can you hear me?" she asked.
The spirit looked up at her. "Have you saved me?"
She ignored that. "My name is Kirigiri Kyoko. I am a detective with the local police department."
The spirit was silent, waiting for more.
She held herself steady. "Is your name Naegi Ohori?"
"Don't!" the spirit hissed. "Do not call me by that name. It enrages Him."
"What should I call you?"
"Ohori is fine," the spirit said. "It is the other word that angers Him. He says I am no longer worthy of being associated with . . . it."
She had a feeling that 'it' wasn't referring to the family name. "I have some questions for you. Will you answer?"
Hagakure's head rolled on his neck. It was eerie, reminding her of a corpse drifting in a current. "I have lived in agony for years. Never have the cosmos granted me reprieve, until now. Ask. I will answer."
"Who killed you?" she asked.
"It was a monster," Ohori said. "I do not know what it is. It was bigger than what is possible. I only saw a glimpse before it all went dark."
"Was it Komaeda Nagito?" she asked. "Was that its name?"
"I do not know its name," the spirit groaned. "It took me into the ether and gave me to Him."
"Who is him?"
She could see the spirit trembling inside Hagakure's body. "Monster. Monster."
"Stop. I understand," she said, alarmed by his muttering. "Before that creature attacked you, you did something. Can you remember?"
Ohori twitched violently. That meant yes, right? Although he had been twitching ever since Kirigiri had summoned him.
"Do you remember?" she repeated. "You had been on a walk with your son, Naegi Makoto, and –"
"Not mine!" Ohori screeched. "Not mine! Not mine!"
She jumped back. Unnerved, she shuffled her chair back to the table. "Not your what."
Though Hagakure's pupils had disappeared, she still saw the eyes roll in their socket. "Not my son. Not mine. Always suspected it. Always knew something was wrong."
"Did you wife cheat on you?" Realizing that question would provoke hostility, she quickly said, "Was he adopted?"
"She birthed him," Ohori whispered. "But I do not know where it came from."
"It?"
"It," Ohori hissed again. "Makoto. Not my son. It was a monster, too."
"You're exaggerating," she said. "You must be."
"It was a monster." Ohori nearly flung himself across the table to grab her arm. "Not human! Not one of us! One of them. Listen to me: you need to kill it."
She yanked her arm away.
"You must!" the spirit moaned. "You must! Before He finds Makoto."
"Who? Are you talking about Komaeda Nagito?" she demanded, not letting loose that it was already too late.
Hagakure's jaw flapped open and closed like an animated skeleton. "The father. The real father. They cannot meet, or the world has already ended."
She ignored the emotional baggage weighing her down. She had to. She had to treat this objectively, like she was going over the facts of a new case. She couldn't allow herself to have an opinion, to have emotions. Because if she did. . . if she did . . .
"I need you to clarify," she said. "How would Makoto meeting his father end the world?"
"Because it means the barrier has fallen. They will no longer be sealed away. Makoto is the key to breaking the seal. I know nothing more; I only know what I've overheard while I've been i-in . . ."
The spirit gave a rattling breath. It pulled at Hagakure's hair, assaulted by visions she could not see. Then it lunged across the table and grabbed her collar.
"Kill me!" the spirit screeched. "Please! Do not let me go back. They won't let me fade away. You cannot understand the agony. Oblivion would be heaven. Do not send me back!"
"I can't." Her chair skittered away from the table. "Even if I knew how, you're in somebody else's body. I can't . . ."
"Then kill him! Kill her!" A candle fell off the table. Thankfully, the fall blew out the wick before it landed. "You can't send me back! If you have any mercy, kill me!"
Hagakure's hands weren't this skeletal; she was sure of it. So why then could she see skin sagging around his knuckles, spread over them like a tent. Why were his fingers so thin she could feel the point of the fingerbones as they curled into the narrow inch of flesh between her collarbone and throat? The white in his eyes had churned into a milk-like whirlpool. Within them, she thought she could see flames. Hell.
And he released her. Hagakure's body reeled back across the table, falling into its assigned chair. The eyes closed, and then opened anew with the same brown tints of the hermit who had brought her here. He shook his head like a surfer who had just come in from the waves.
"Wow, that was an emotional one, huh?" he said.
"You . . . heard?"
"Hm? Nah, that stuff's between you and him. But you can tell when you host them, you know? The rowdy ones already give you a headache afterwards, and you usually shoot back earlier, too. They can't hold onto the body very well when they get all full of feelings." Hagakure gave her something that looked like it was supposed to be a sly grin. "Of course, if your conversation got cut short, you can always go for another round. I'm having buy one, get one half off deal today. . ."
"No!" she spat. "No. That was . . . It was useless. Everything he told me was useless and it doesn't change anything!"
She had to keep telling herself that; had to tell herself that the only difference was that she knew why she had to rescue Naegi. She knew Naegi better than him. Naegi wanted the world to end no more than she . . . if Ohori had even been telling the truth. For all she knew, he was merely upset he hadn't succeeding in killing his son and was trying to manipulate her into doing it for him.
She tried to stand up but when she did, she wobbled and had to sit right back down. The world felt like it was slowly turning upside down.
"What is this?" she stuttered.
"That's normal. Just take a nap," Hagakure said as he stripped the table. "The first time speaking to ghosts is a little weird on the brain. But now that you've seen them, it's only a matter of time before you start seeing all the aliens, too!"
"I. . . I can't do this right now. I need to leave!"
"It's fine," Hagakure said. "Just relax."
She didn't mean to, she fought it, but the unnaturalness of the séance had overtaken her. Her chin collapsed onto the table. She tried thrice to rise, but was unable. The last thing she saw before her eyes shut was the waving flame on the candle before her.
It had been a long time since she had gone to the beach. Pools were fine, but she wasn't particularly fond of violent waves or fierce undertows that could rip you away in a moment's breath. (Had she known deep inside even then? Had she known about the deal she had unwittingly made?) This beach, though, was nice. It was night, the air crisp, but the sand was warm between her toes. The faint silhouette of a new moon hung in the sky above, drowned out by the sparkle of the stars in the swaying ocean. More importantly, she was alone. Except for one person.
She approached him from behind. Naegi didn't appear to have noticed her yet. He stood at the edge of the water, staring out at the horizon. He shouldn't be here, although she shouldn't be either. Yet nothing about this felt wrong.
"You doing okay?" Naegi asked without looking at her.
"Shouldn't I be asking you that question?"
Suddenly, she needed to see his face. She needed to make sure this was him. Surprisingly, he didn't resist at all. He let her grab him and spin him around, not seeming the least bit perturbed by her actions. With her eyes, she swept up and down. Everything about him indicated this, indeed, was Naegi.
"Looking for the tattoo?" he asked wryly. She had forgotten, honestly, but he slipped his pants down just enough for her to see that black ink on his thigh.
The disgust coiled in her gut. She said, "The first thing we're going to do is get that removed."
Naegi never lost his smile. He merely shook his head, an old sadness reflecting off his eyes. "It doesn't work like that."
"I know. It will be difficult because that requires repeat visits and I doubt we'll be able to stay in one place after this," she said with a sigh.
Naegi said, "You know that isn't what I mean."
They watched the waves together. The tide was coming in and the waves were growing closer, stronger. Water tickled her ankle as it rushed by.
"You're coming for me, aren't you?" Naegi asked suddenly.
"I'm insulted that you had to ask."
"I know," he said quietly. "Of course, you're going to. There's nothing anyone can say to make you choose otherwise."
"What are you really saying?" she said. "Spit it out."
Once again, he shook his head. "It wouldn't make a difference to you. Besides, I think . . ."
The water was at her knees, now.
"I . . ."
A tear dropped from his face and landed on her ungloved hand.
". . . I think it's too late for either of us."
And with that, Naegi stepped forward –
Her eyes snapped open. She was in Hagakure's tent, alone. Slowly, she drew her knees up to her chest. She struggled not to cry.
