Chapter 56
Despite how much she wanted to, when Kirigiri arrived at the church, she didn't kick down the door. She didn't enter right away. Instead, she made a detour for the forest behind it, praying that Hope's Peak was oblivious to her presence. Tanaka had hidden himself from them, so hopefully this talisman she wore would do the same.
She felt like she had memorized the sights on the way to Tanaka's hut by now. These weren't just trees, but signposts pointing the way. The ground was firm under her, not swampy at all. She tried not to think about the paradox of her memories, of times in the forest both with and without swamps. It was too confusing to understand. Nor did she need to. All she needed was to locate Tanaka's base. If it was still standing.
The sigil on their house had lost its power with his death, but not everything of his had faded. The white line of powder in the forest still lived. She knelt and scooped some into a little baggie she had brought with her. She had no idea what this stuff was, but Tanaka had said it kept Hope's Peak out of his yard.
His door was unlocked. A rat made a run for it when she stepped inside. The interior was neat. Undisturbed. Just as she had hoped because that meant Hope's Peak hadn't – or couldn't – make a wreck of the place. That said, it wasn't all great. She didn't know what she was looking for, as she knew nothing about magic. . .
Was that a crossbow?
She walked up to it slowly. Propped up in a corner was a wooden crossbow that looked like Tanaka had whittled himself. A length of twine tied together five bolts next to it.
These was coming with her. She scoured the hut for anything else. What she found was just as cryptic as what had been on her roof; se doubted she would be able to put it to much use.
So be it then. There would be no more preparation. Now she would walk into the mouth of the beast.
Once again, Hope's Peak gave no sign that they were alert to her presence. Though even if they had, what had she expected? She doubted they felt the need for armed guards or any true security. She pressed herself against the back door, listening. When she didn't hear anything, she turned the knob and slowly pushed it open.
A wide, empty expanse greeted her. Despite her efforts, her heels clicked against the floor, but no one came running. She moved quickly, not waiting to linger in this open space for any longer than necessary.
Her first stop was the third floor, for she knew who had taken Naegi and where he slept. If she could get this over with by only involving Komaeda, without sucking in any other members of the church, that would be a miracle.
She opened the door to Komaeda's room.
It was empty, and not only of Komaeda. The room was bare, save for the desk. However, even its drawers were empty. That frightened her more than finding Komaeda with a gun would have. Komaeda hadn't left, had he? Now that he had gotten what he wanted, could he have abandoned this place? No. No, she wouldn't accept that. He had to be messing with her head again.
She could think of another place to look, especially since Komaeda had a captive. She ran back downstairs, charged into the confessional without fear and wriggled her fingers into that crack under the bench's lid. Only it didn't budge. She braced her feet against the ground and pulled, but it remained closed as if it were truly one piece. To her, that wasn't a sign of mistaken memories, but a confirmation that he was down there.
She rolled her weight back onto her heels, breathing hard. Fine. If Komaeda had sealed this place off to her, then she would find another way. She'd find someone who would let her in.
With that, she returned to the third floor and stalked down the hall. Ikusaba's room was. Yonaga was likewise absent. Shame. Those two – the two weak humans – would have been her preferred targets. She had to resort to drastic measures then and place her faith in the late Tanaka.
There was a single door open, just a crack. With the crossbow's tip, she nudged it open. The room itself was dark, but she could still make out a lump in the bed. Step by step, she tiptoed over. She positioned herself by the head, bringing the crossbow to bear so that the loaded bolt pointed directly between the slumbering Kamukura's eyes.
"Wake up!" she barked.
His eyes snapped open. He didn't notice the crossbow right away, and she had to follow him with it as he rolled onto his back and rubbed his eyes. Afterwards, he realized what was happening. He stared cross-eyed at the bolt's point.
"Kirigiri-san? Is it time already." He tried to rise.
"Don't move." In a flash, she repositioned herself, so she was directly behind the crossbow, adding her full weight to her threat. "Where's Komaeda?"
Kamukura's brow pinched. "Why am I always stuck dealing with his messes?"
"If that's your concern, let me make this easier for you. Where's Makoto?"
He sighed, not looking the least bit afraid. "Alright, fine. Listen to me closely. Everything's fine. You're fine, Makoto's fine. It's just time for him to hatch, so relax. There's nothing to worry about. Calm down and relax."
There was a deliberateness to the way he spoke, like he was mouthing the words to a lipreader. She didn't understand why and didn't have much time to ponder it because she noticed something amiss. From Kamukura's ahoge came a faint light, as if the creature had hidden a nightlight inside.
"What is that. . .?" she muttered aloud.
"What is. . .? Wait, you're not . . ." Kamukura squinted at her. "Why isn't it working. . .? Where did you get that?"
She took a second. He was staring at the talisman around her neck, the one that had once belonged to Tanaka. She rubbed her thumb over it. Kamukura wasn't shying away so it wasn't hurting or repelling him, but his behaviour stated that it was doing something. She eyed the light in the ahoge again; whatever this talisman did, it likely had something to do with that.
"Nagito's going to be angry when he hears about this," Kamukura said. He had likely deduced where she had scavenged it from. "If you're not going to let me do this the easy way, then I'll have to. . . Argh!"
Kamukura, in his casual recklessness, had tried to push the crossbow away. However, his skin had grazed the bolt as it did, and that immediately made him recoil and cry out in pain. He was lucky she had such good discipline, or the suddenness would have made her shoot him out of pure reflex. He cradled his arm to his chest. When he finally released it, she saw a strip of skin that was red and irritated.
"Kirigiri-san?" His voice was high and tight. The light in his ahoge was gone.
"Get up."
"He's not going to like this. Trust me, Nagito will kill you," Kamukura said as he stood up just as she demanded. "Are you really going to mess this up for yourself now? Why would you . . .?"
"Take me to Makoto." She jabbed him in the back and he yelped again. Oh. She hadn't thought it would hurt through his clothing. If she listened, she could hear a faint hissing noise coming from his back.
"That's . . ."
"I'll make this easy for you. I already know where Komaeda's keeping him, so shut up and get me into that secret cavern."
His Adam's apply bobbed. He did as she ordered, holding his hands up as they made their way to the stairs.
A door shut somewhere behind them in the hallway. A voice said, "The fuck is this?"
Enoshima. Kirigiri turned sideways so she could watch both her enemies. Enoshima had just left her room and in her hand, she had the ritualistic knife she had once seen in Shinguji's room – the one she suspected had been used to kill Nanami Chiaki. Enoshima couldn't have grabbed the knife in response to Kirigiri's presence though, for Enoshima's reaction made it obvious that her appearance was a surprise. The knife was for something, for someone else. And she was aware of only one outsider that Hope's Peak had gotten their grubby paws on.
"Put the knife down," she said. She aimed the crossbow at Enoshima, then back at Kamukura when it looked like he was going to make a move.
"I honestly don't have time for this," Enoshima said. The knife tapped against her thigh; with a little more pressure, it would have pierced the skin. "I have an ugly date to meet, and no time to mingle with the servants."
"This is your last warning. Put the knife down."
Enoshima shrugged and tossed it aside. That wasn't good. That meant she was confident in some other weapon she had. However, as Kirigiri swept her over, she couldn't find anything dangerous.
"So, how are we going to do this?" Enoshima said cheerfully. "Rock paper scissors? A dance-off? Cause somebody's not walking out of here if you're gong to act like that."
Yes, she agreed. Which is why she warned Enoshima when the woman moved closer. Enoshima smirked and raised her hands just like Kamukura, those long talons of hers glinting –
That . . . that wasn't even an exaggeration. Those weren't long, manicured nails. They were claws. Thick, slightly curved claws strong enough to carve grooves into a tree trunk without breaking. That was why she hadn't fretted about throwing the knife away; she already owned ten blades.
"You're looking a little worried, Kyoko-chan," Enoshima said. "Cold feet?"
Kamukura stirred behind her. She turned more toward him but as she did, Enoshima took another step forward. She slipped a hand into her pocket. This was bad. Very, very bad.
"Still feeling tough?" Enoshima purred. The tips of her fangs stuck out as she abandoned subtleness. "If you get on your knees and beg, maybe we'll be merciful."
"I think you have your own problem to deal with," Kirigiri spat, and she pulled the baggie of white powder out of her pocket and threw it.
Before Kamukura's shout, before Enoshima's scream of pain, she heard the hissing. Before Enoshima could duck away and cover her face, Kirigiri saw her skin begin to blister. The baggie had smacked into Enoshima's chest, and its contents had exploded through the unclosed top. Enoshima slammed backwards into a wall with the force of a cannonball, leaving a sizeable dent. She collapsed to the floor, clutching her face and behind her, the shadows writhed in an ecstasy of chaos.
"Junko!" She looked over her shoulder just in time to see a gaping maw lined with rows upon rows of teeth. . . which flew past her as Kamukura ran to his girlfriend's side. She moved away, more rattled than she liked to admit, and made to kick away the knife Enoshima had –
The blood on it wasn't completely dry.
The world went silent. Not just for her, but for Kamukura was well, as he didn't hear her as she advanced. He didn't notice as she towered above her. He didn't notice her at all until she grabbed one of the crossbow bolts and pressed it into his back so that it broke the skin.
Kamukura cried out. His skin hissed. There was nothing in the air around him and yet the air pulsed and writhed. Around the bolt, his clothing arched and then – it was hard to describe – it somehow slipped into his skin like a knife sliding into its sheath. He scrambled away from her, flipping around so that he faced her. Something shifted in the space around her and this time she felt it, she saw it even though there was nothing. She swung the crossbow around and felt the arrowhead catch on something, tear through something. Kamukura screamed, spine snapping straight like a giant had reached down and wrenched it so.
"There's blood on that knife," she said. "Whose it is? What did you do!"
She didn't know if it was her attack on him or his girlfriend that did it or if she was simply becoming more aware, but Kamukura could no longer be mistaken for human. His fangs were back, but it wasn't just them that had changed. His hair squirmed like a ball of worms and it was growing thicker and longer. His eyes possessed a distinct red tint that grew brighter whenever the light hit them. And there was black creeping up his neck like ink soaking into a cloth.
"Whose blood it is?!" she screamed at him.
"It's not his!" Kamukura said, hands held up in surrender. "I promise, we wouldn't hurt him."
She jabbed the crossbow in his direction, coming short of making contact, still making him flinch. "Whose is it?"
"Ikusaba," he finally said. "Ikusaba Mukuro."
"What? Why?" It wasn't the time to ask – she couldn't afford to care about two hostages right now – but she couldn't stop that reaction.
"It was time," Kamukura said vaguely. "Junko was going to have to kill her at some point, and there wasn't much longer she could delay it. You can't keep a regular human as a pet if the Elders are going to be around."
That made no . . . Whatever. She mentally refocused herself. "Take me to Makoto. Now."
"My dad will kill you," Kamukura hissed.
She made a show of slipping her hand into her pocket, as if she had more white powder. Kamukura looked at her with genuine fear and stumbled to his feet.
She expected to be ambushed, but they made it all the way to the confessional without incident. The whole time, it was tempting to jab him in the back with the crossbow, especially since her target seemed to be . . . getting larger. That didn't matter though. He was still afraid of her. She leveraged that and forced him to go down the stairs first.
As the confessional bench closed behind them, Kamukura's ahoge lit up. The individual strands of his hair having woven together into single tendril that swayed to its own rhythm. It alternatively pulsed between red and turquoise and she hoped those were the colours of fear.
Kamukura led her down the tunnel that would led to the lake and chains. She already knew what she was going to do: she was going to force him to free Naegi, and then she was going to chain up Kamukura in his place and see how he liked it.
Of course, those plans evaporated once she was close enough.
"Makoto!"
A small bonfire smouldered in the cavern, allowing her to see the limp formed suspended from the chains. She grabbed the back of Kamukura's collar (it was slimy) and forced him to move faster. She shoved him ahead once they were clear of the tunnel and ran to Naegi's side . . .
"Ikusaba?"
It couldn't be anyone else. Ikusaba's throat had been slit, and blood had caked on her front – it was so dark she hadn't noticed until now. The jaw hung open; either she had been killed not long ago and rigor mortis hadn't set in, or she had been killed a while ago and rigor mortis had already passed. When she examined the wrists and ankles, she found no signs of struggling. Ikusaba, it appeared, had allowed herself to be chained and blinded. Had she also known she was going to die?
Splash.
She whipped around. The lake's surface was rippling, Kamukura was nowhere in sight, but she could see a shadow moving in the water. At first, she was furious. Then she realized it didn't matter that much if he got away. She was in the caverns, just as she needed to be.
But without Kamukura to guide her, would this place become a maze again?
She stared ahead into the dark tunnel. She took her flashlight out and turned it on.
There was only one way to find out.
(The answer, it turned out, was no.)
The closer she got to the second chamber, the less she needed the lantern. Blue light came from her destination, from the dozens of paper lamps strung around the room's perimeter. There were torches too with unnatural ruby-red flames. The two colours combined and fell upon the raised-hand chancel with a purple ambience. The chancel's finger-like protrusions were also lit by gloomy, dark purple vines that climbed up and around and spread over the ceiling like a web. In the middle of the chancel, a small figure was kneeling.
Yonaga finished her prayer just as Kirigiri reached the bottom of the stairs. Yonaga stood up, turned. Raised her hand and waved.
"Yoo-hoo, Kyoko! I didn't know they wanted you out yet."
The crossbow was made of dark wood, which meant Yonaga hadn't seen it. If she had, she didn't fear it, as she came running over. . . Or she was in the middle of doing so before she suddenly stopped short. She glanced over her shoulder at something, and then looked back at Kirigiri.
Yonaga said, "You're armed."
"Yes. Where's Makoto?"
"Hm? Makoto can't leave yet," Yonaga said. "Nagito still needs to – "
"Shut up!" Kirigiri squared her shoulders and aimed the crossbow as she faced Yonaga. "Let's make this clear. Makoto is coming back with me. If you get in my way, I'll kill you."
Yonaga went still. Kirigiri stepped forward -
"Enough."
She snapped her eyes to the person at the other end of the room. Hands clasped behind his back, Shinguji strode forward even as the crossbow tracked his every move.
"I do try not to interfere in the business of others," Shinguji said. His voice as smooth, a complete mismatch for this situation. "I have been content to leave matters to Komaeda, as it is truly discourteous to meddle in the relationship between master and servant. This, however, I will not stand for."
"Afraid?" she asked. "Do you fear me now that I can hurt you?"
"Hurt me?" A single finger traced the edge of his chin. "No, your threats do not trouble me. However, I will not stand by as you threaten my daughter."
"Your. . ." He could only be speaking of one person, but that wasn't possible. Shinguji was about the same age. . . but so was Komaeda. But Yonaga was human.
"You doubt me. It is fair to say that I did not contribute to her birth, but nevertheless, I gave her life." With each sentence, Shinguji took another step forward. "Is it not I who has protected her? Myself who has guided her? Is it not my star that infuses her soul?"
His . . . star. . .?
"I don't need a scripture like the others do to talk to the Elders, cause Atua's right here!"
"Atua?" she gasped.
Shinguji inclined his head. "That is one of my many names. Although to you, that would be the one that holds the most meaning. I apologize for the confusion, but it was at Nagito's request. Just as Hinata went by a false moniker, so did I to prevent you and Naegi from reaching those conclusions too soon. However, I no longer see a need to maintain the illusion."
"Stay back!" Kirigiri stumbled away from him. Shinguji was Atua, and Atua was one of these Elders and that meant magnitudes more powerful than Kamukura was. Unlike Kamukura, Shinguji demonstrated no fear either. As if he knew she couldn't hurt him.
. . . But he did have a glaring weakness, didn't he?
"You have decided not to back down," Atua said, letting her know he had seen her glance at Yonaga. She could hear his rolling, simmering, godlike fury. "So be it. Then this matter has become one between us."
It was genuine fear that drove her to point the crossbow at Yonaga to try and keep Atua back. Neither Atua or Yonaga flinched at the action and she wondered why because Yonaga was human, wasn't she . . .?
She saw it. She had thought the path between her and Yonaga was clear, but it wasn't. Something, something large was in the way. Something large that extended down from the ceiling. . .
And she understood. Shinguji wasn't real. Yes, Atua did exist and yes, he was here in this room in this plane of dimension, but the humanoid form in front of her wasn't real. It was an illusion, a finger puppet to entertain the children; a marionette with its strings controlled off-screen. Atua wasn't worried because even if she had something that could hurt him, shooting that avatar would be like chopping off his toe. The real Atua was . . .
She looked up.
And she saw Him. Sprawled out across the ceiling, spilling down the walls to the floor, a great branch of Him reaching out and wrapped possessively – protectively? – around Yonaga. His tendrils pulsated with lumps that opened outwards and flexed a million teeth; rose-bud like eyes lay at the base of them, reflecting other worlds, other dimensions, other universes, yet all were staring directly at her. He had become the church, and the church had become Him, because there was no other way for Him to fit.
She dropped the crossbow.
On its fleshy mound, one of Atua's largest eyes spun a full 360 degrees one way, then the other.
"Go ahead, Kirigiri Kyoko: shoot."
She screamed.
