.
.
.
The leader of the band is tired and his eyes are growing old
But his blood runs through my instrument, and his song is in my soul
My life has been a poor attempt to imitate the man
I'm just a living legacy to the leader of the band
- Dan Fogelberg, The Leader of the Band
7 / 17 / 2016
"You're going to help us?" asks Niijima.
"If Hikawa's going, so am I," says Takamaki. After a little while, she explains herself, turning away, "And... I felt you needed the help. You don't deserve to have to deal with everything your dad thrust upon you."
Niijima doesn't say a word, for a time. When she does, she's sullen but accepting, "I appreciate it a lot."
"Don't make anything of it."
Cat pops out my bag, "Maruki ain't coming?"
"No. Guy needs more time."
Takamaki asks, "You think this Akechi guy found us a good route to enter the Palace through?"
"We can only hope. Without Maruki around we're in a far less advantageous than we would be. So sneaking around is optimal. Unless he pulls a Kaneshiro, and has us fight against a bunch of his asshole troops to get his rocks off."
"God, that made his Palace way too long for our own good," she groans.
"You guys could try building up buffs yourselves," said the cat.
"How?" Niijima queries.
"We could train in Mementos. Though it'll take us weeks, probably..."
Niijima frowns, "What's Mementos?"
"Don't ask," is all I tell her. "It'll take us weeks?"
"And I mean that literally. You'll have to train every single waking hour, if you wanna get that power in a few weeks. If you just take an hour or so out of your day to build that shit up, it'll take damn near quarter of a year."
"So it's impractical anyway," Takamaki shakes her head.
"Rigorous challenges and killing powerful Shadows should be able to get your Persona stronger at a faster rate. Or they could kill you. But that's the name of the game."
Niijima narrows her eyes, "Is that how Hikawa's Persona is so powerful...?"
"Nah. Kaz is just naturally gifted. That said, his awakening wasn't a clean one."
She eyes me, "It wasn't?"
I smirk, with dead eyes. "Let's just say Maruki would've made that fight a lot more manageable."
"How did you get so gifted in the first place?" asks Takamaki.
I just shrug, but the cat has to posit something, "Well, your Persona's strength is determined according to the strength of your heart. And that can mean a lot of things, for better and for worse."
"How do you determine how strong someone's heart is?"
"Depends on a lot of factors. But a good rule of thumb is-"
"I hope I haven't kept you."
We all turn behind us, and he arrives. Brown hair, light-brown overcoat. Black gloves, reasonably nice pants and shoes. Though he gives us all a light smile his eyes are far below freezing, and you'd get the impression he'd much rather shoot us all in the backs of our heads than spend even another second speaking to us.
Or is that just me? "Good to see you, Akechi."
"Likewise," he says with the most dishonest grin any man could possibly muster. "Are you all ready? I intend to take you through a bit of a roundabout path, but I assure you it'll be the safest route we could possibly take to the inner halls of the Palace."
"What exactly are we going to do?" asks Niijima.
"We'll have to go through the aqueducts. Even the sewers have been lovingly replicated in the man's cognitive world, but only up to a point."
"Oh my God," Takamaki grumbles. "How bad are the sewers?"
"There are Shadows within, but they're far too slow to keep up with us if we keep up a brisk enough pace. And yes, the smell is terrible."
"Damn it."
"What would Tsukioka's Shadow need the sewers for? What does Tsukioka think the sewers are for, in his head?" Niijima wonders aloud, perplexed.
"It appears to be more a metaphorical aspect of his cognition - in the sewers were piles upon piles of money, lining the gutters all over. Some sections were packed with all manner of narcotics stashed in boxes and crates, others just had skeletons. I suppose it symbolizes his subconscious awareness of what his Basilica truly stands upon."
Niijima grits her teeth, "Drugs, blood money, and bodies."
"Precisely. Now, just to reiterate before heading in: we cannot change this man's heart. We are here solely to find information pertaining to Niijima's father, and that's final. No trying to be a hero, no picking fights with Shadows we can otherwise avoid-"
"We know, Akechi-kun," Niijima grunts out. "We know."
"Do we?" he turns to the rest of us.
"Yes," Takamaki nods.
Cat says "Yup!"
And I just hum in agreement. Some reason his face turns real pissed off at my hum in particular, but he doesn't bring it up. Just says, "Good. Now follow me."
Once he goes off, Niijima and I share a glance at each other before following suit, Takamaki in tow and the cat waiting patiently in my bag. A thousand overwhelming sensations make the hairs on the back of my neck stand, and they all tell me to violently murder Akechi in various obscene, shameful, despicable ways, the likes of which would make what I've done to Kamoshida and Kobayakawa and Kaneshiro look tame.
But now, now I help Niijima ease her burdens.
Now, I give her the peace of mind I could never have with my father.
And then I consign myself to whatever hell Akechi's prepared for me.
.
.
.
7 / 18 / 2016
When I wake up I find I'm kneeling, the joints in my legs shattered and bleeding.
I feel sore all over, as if someone had taken a knife to my arms, chest, head and shoulders. Knees have been clubbed to the point of being swollen. My black leather robes are cut open, shredded apart like my flesh, and the mere act of breathing sends lightning down my ribs. A large steel collar chained to the floor keeps me from lifting my upper body upwards in any fashion.
My arms are cuffed at the wrists and stretched out on opposite sides, like I'm crucified. The chains attached to the cuffs stretch a thousand miles into darkness. I'm kneeling on a platform that crunches like pizza crust whenever I try to adjust my legs. Surrounding me is a sight that could only exist in the Vortex World.
Giant hands, made of steel, a thousand of them all around me - stretching well beyond the horizon. Each carrying a steel cuboid cage, each cage packing at least a dozen people - packed to the brim like sardines, the prisoners are made to stand, naked, in their cages. Large bright lights, like the headlights of helicopters, hover all around us, gyrating and passing over and constantly shifting the shadows cast by our bodies. Nested within the massive metal arms are more cages, windows and cracks in the steel showing even more Manikins packed and crammed together.
I have no memory of being captured, let alone injured in this manner. I don't know where Niijima, or Akechi, or Takamaki are. I can't see them in any of the cages that my eyes have reached; I can't see the ground beneath the platform either, for the lights don't reach that far; everything beneath me and the cages is shrouded in darkness.
Victory Cry comes soon enough. My knees meld themselves back together, the sinews in my arms tie back into themselves, and I can breathe without wanting to vomit out my intestines. But suddenly, I feel a weight on my left shoulder almost heavy enough to break it in two, and I turn and find that it's the bony, craggly hand of the man ruling this Palace. With bright, wide golden eyes he peers down at me, as though looking at an unforgettably eldritch creature.
"You know what they call you, in some circles?" he asks me. "Demon-boy. More out of irony than anything else. A child with your soft features, your lithe frame, your pathetic little gaze. No one would ever pass you a glance, so long as they had better things to do. And yet, you destabilized so much of our work in one night, by harming one man, that it's almost impressive."
He grabs at the space between my left shoulder and neck and squeezes as if it were a wet towel - just like a wet towel blood gushes from the spot, and the pain is enough such that I can't even scream. Just as he verges on crushing my collarbone and the shoulder blade he unhands me, wiping the blood off his archdeacon's robes. I breathe heavy, groaning as red spills out over my chest, and the name Satanael
"And you've set us back again a hundredfold. Whatever you did to Kaneshiro, you've made fools of us. Distrust in the police is higher than ever, and the whole city is on the edge of war with itself. What do you have to say for yourself?"
Even still healing, I can't help but be cheeky. "I...have the right to remain silent. Anything I say - can, and will, be used against me in a court of law."
"You know that's as big a pile of bullshit as anything else we've upheld." Grabs at my hair, tears a few right out from the root, and I don't dare let a sound out my mouth because fuck this guy and fuck everything he stands for. "Your ḟ̴̯a̸͍̚t̷̪͘ḥ̴̒ȩ̵͘r̵̡͒. I cannot even speak his name. Your ḟ̴̯a̸͍̚t̷̪͘ḥ̴̒ȩ̵͘r̵̡͒...would be very, very disturbed to find you've come as far as you have, boy."
He's saying father. I can hear it through the distortion. Damn you.
"Then...," I growl, "let me, and the others go."
"And let you steal my Treasure? Nonsense. You'd cause the city to descend into madness."
"SIU's in bed with the fucking yakuza and you're telling me the country hasn't descended into madness?" I laugh at him, despite the pain all across my body, my arms and legs and back. "You don't give a fuck about the city or its people. All you care about is lining your fucking pockets. You're not a cop, you're a fucking yuppie piece of shit."
"Children can't possibly understand what must be done in order to sustain this city. You've not had to sacrifice, you've not had to carry the world upon your back. We've had to do that for you. If anything you ought to be grateful for what we've endured and had to do to-"
"You bent over for the fucking yakuza and you expect us to thank you for it," I snarl. "Where...is everyone who'd come with me?"
"It does not matter where they are. You won't see them anytime soon."
The gambit I pull I bank on to work, but I hope to God it doesn't. "You can't kill me. And you know you can't kill me."
"I can't kill you. You're right. Your ḟ̴̯a̸͍̚t̷̪͘ḥ̴̒ȩ̵͘r̵̡͒ would have our heads. If it were up to me, I'd have you skinned alive and your red frame crucified. But no. No, I can't. M̷̨̓0̴̩̅r̷̥͘1̶̮̉s̸̢̑h̷̻͘1̷̻́g̸̳̅e̶̲͒ ̷̫̅H̵̟͐1̸̞̔k̸̫͐4̵̨̏w̶͙̍4̵̭̎ has gone above and beyond to ensure that you, ḩ̵͐ī̷͕s̴͚̽ ̶͇̉s̵͕͌o̶̤͑n̶͖̑, are preserved." He cups his hands around my bloodied face, looking close; he's too stuck in his dazed, terror-struck state to notice my arms and legs and body are being restructured as he speaks. "You will strike an arrow at him and you will end everything. Everything we have built. Everything we could ever accomplish."
"You need my father that much? How fucking awful are you at your job that you need to work with him to get shit done?"
"You understand nothing!" he grips at my face tighter, pushing his thumbs over my eyeballs - instantly the pain is enough to get me to scream and he goes further, further, far enough in my left such that I can't even think through the pain-
"HRAAAAGH!"
My left eye bursts open as I let out a guttural, furious roar. Blood and other liquids seep down, through the hole in my left eye as he unhands me, licks the blood and vitreous fluids off his bony fingers.
"You...fucking, cretinous bastard."
"I do not intend to kill you, boy. But I cannot have you disrupt our plans. The city does not need your chaos. You've done enough. If you intend to pursue us further, we shall beautify you again and again. We can heal you. We can restore you to the point where your wounds disappear entirely. Then we shall carve things out of you you did not even know were a part of you at all."
"I'm not leaving here without everyone else," I seethe at him. "I'm not leaving here without Niijima."
"You won't have to worry about Makoto-chan. She will have her time for re-education."
"Re-education?"
"One day you shall see the sun again." A woman, dressed in tight black leather from the neck down, emerges from behind him. Walking over to me calmly. Her face is obscured below her eyes by a black oni mouthpiece, bearing white teeth and tall fangs. Black wings at her back, silver hair cascades down from her head, her grey eyes blazing with wide fury, and I understand she is Sae Niijima's Manikin - bearing the name Jophiel.
Tsukioka grins. "But here, and now, you are to remain on your knees - and understand that in children do not belong in this land of wolves. This mark...shall remain upon you forever. Your re-education begins now, with a true understanding of what it means to cross those who run this country."
Jophiel brings out a branding iron with the characters 丸太 - maruta. Tsukioka revels in the stench of the iron and he lets himself slip into euphoria, at the thought of my suffering. He's so stuck on his gloating, the high he gets from this torture, that he doesn't see my eye reform. He doesn't see my knees crack and creak back into shape. He doesn't see my now-repaired arms curl the chains close to me, nor does he see my hands curl into fists.
Senile old man.
"Satanael."
In one second, he slashes at the chains holding my arms in place. In two seconds, he lets loose a shot upon Jophiel which sends her flying off the platform in a shower of blood. In three seconds the flames coat my robes and reform my torn attire - and in four, I'm able to rip away the collar at my neck as if it were made of styrofoam, I'm able to pull my legs out from their shackles and I don't know if it's the adrenaline or the nature of the cognitive world at play, but I feel as though I could cause the collapse of the entire country if I put my mind to it.
I see him scream in fear and rage, in moments he'll transform into Alciel again and I can't have such a thing, so I thrust a hand outward at him-
-and Satanael dashes forward.
This could kill him, this could not. In this specific moment, I did not particularly care if it did or didn't. But the sword runs him through, kebabs this frail old man's Shadow and Satanael torpedoes himself downward, as I ride right on his back. And as we go down, down, down, there is thunder and there is lightning and there is a scream from a mouth with a thousand teeth.
Alciel's disembodied head roars even as Satanael's blade impales his tonsils, and I decide there is no choice but to separate, and Satanael sticks his gun inside Alciel's maw-
BOOM
When I wake up I'm all the way at the bottom of the world. The hovering lights barely peer through, with how far down I am; my surroundings are visible, but only just so. All around me are heaps upon heaps of trash, garbage, rotting foodstuffs and maggots - skeletons of dead men and animals, flies and disease, left here to rot in apathy. The hands are thousands upon thousands of feet tall, the platform I'd jumped off from being so far up I can hardly believe I'd been up there what felt like seconds ago.
Tsukioka's Shadow is nowhere near me, though I'm certain there are beasts hiding in the piles. Seeing the hills of refuse, my hands tremble in rage, for I understand immediately what it all means.
Hideyoshi Tsukioka finds it far too difficult to clean the trash of this city, and so he allows himself to indulge his indifference. Touts himself a public servant when in truth he is a whore. Sold his knowledge and used his reach to benefit filth and vermin - doing business in the murder, the exploitation, the bodies of innocent men, and women, and children.
Phone isn't in my pockets.
How did I even get here?
Where is everyone else?
Where are Akechi, Takamaki, the cat?
Where is Niijima?
And how the hell are we gonna get out of here?
"Blasphemous miscreant. Blood-crazed fiend."
Behind me I hear dripping, soaked noises; someone, trudging through the garbage to get to me. A female voice, with a charred throat that echoes in your head. A name I've heard before, Jophiel.
In front of us rises a masked woman with silver hair, her insides hanging loose from her stomach as she raises a single black wing. Everything from her left shoulder to her stomach has been blasted apart, leaving flaps of meat and hanging guts. She is naked, her leather robes having been shredded after I shot her, and the blood spilling from the place where her left arm and abdominal muscles should be coats most of her in a bright brilliant red.
Her hands bear foot-long black talons where fingers should be, and her eyes bleed as she lets loose a scream. The oni mask cracks in two and drops in pieces to the ground. Where her lips ought to be instead are thirty-two sharp teeth, sixteen embedded in the upper lip and sixteen in the lower lip. Each are a finger long, and intersect into each other like the steel teeth of a zipper.
"Devil's child. You have barrelled your way through this sanctified place and you think you shall make it out of here alive!? After all you've done you deserve to be quartered, your limbs dragged across these barren wastes by horses!"
"Does your sister deserve the same fate? She came here to find out about your father."
"How dare you pretend my sister is one of the whores you've brought along with you to the House of God. I shall cut your liar's tongue out and wear it as a necklace-"
Satanael bursts upon the scene again the instant I tear away my mask.
One, two, three shots fire before she can make more empty threats, and as I decimate Sae Niijima and take satisfaction in at least the fact that I can kill the cognitive version of the woman who had prosecuted me, I remember Niijima again, and how despite her unbelievable anxiety she remained strong enough to push through with everything she wanted to know.
.
.
.
7 / 17 / 2016
A manhole in the back end of the HQ is our way in.
"Behind us! Joker!"
BOOM
Slimes in the sewers getting blown to shit all over the brick walls of this absurdly spacious sewer. Place is the worst kind of uncomfortable; wide enough for us to fit through and even run through, but nowhere near spacious enough for the catbus to run over everything and everyone. The halls bend at ninety-degree angles, meaning Niijima's Persona's all but useless as well. The Slimes are slow but persistent, and without a Maruki to slow them down or speed us up all we can do is engage in force so overwhelming we keep them as far fucking away from us as possible.
Akechi cries, "This way! Left-!"
AAAOOOHHHH-
His lightsaber slashes apart a Slime that landed right in front of us - more come crashing down from the ceiling, splashing into the grimy wastes. Takamaki retches but she keeps most of herself intact enough to fight onward - Salome burns through the stragglers that survive Satanael's shots. It's hard to move in this miserable sludge, even harder to see when most of the world is damp and dark and miserable. We rush through, passing by halls packed with crates of coke and smack, stepping over mounds of cash wrapped in balls of cognitive shit and muck, and soon enough we see a small shaft of light hovering in the ceiling overhead-
"Up the ladder, let's go!"
"JOHANNA!"
When she summons her, it's a straight shot to the ladder. There're about a dozen Slimes that've crashlanded in front of us but she runs them all over and renders them black stains all over the walls, leaving blue flames in her wake. We dash after her, the sensation of nuclear fire digging into my calves as we do - she's the first to climb the ladder up, then Takamaki, then Akechi, then me - the cat hanging off the ends of my coat as it laughs, "Later, ya fuckin' mook shits!"
The shaft of light shines from the window of a trapdoor that Niijima all but throws open, and we all hurl ourselves up and through, into whatever room we're in now. It's an impossibly dark and cramped room, with a musty smell and dust particles all over.
I pull myself up and everyone's covered in various layers of grime and melted gristle. I grip the handles of the trapdoor and slam it right down, blocking the Slimes that try clambering up the ladder to us. "Everyone okay?"
"No," groans Takamaki, as she wipes a thick layer of muck off the side of her face.
"I'm aight," Cat says, shaking its fur and splattering mess all over. Most of it doesn't get on us, thankfully; just flecks and droplets.
"How much further, Akechi...?" Niijima breathes.
"We're here, actually."
"What?"
"Robin Hood." Akechi's Persona stands tall as he unsheathes his arrow and quiver but doesn't loose a single nock; instead the arrow blazes with a pure white light, acting more like a lantern than anything else. It's bright enough to illuminate everything within a few dozen feet of us, and we see what room we're in exactly.
This musty, withered old room is lined from ceiling to floor with bookshelves and file cabinets, each packed to the brim with all kinds of paper assortments, whether they be books or folders or reports. Covered in thick sheets of dust, and cobwebs, and cockroach eggs.
"When I first entered this Palace, I experienced much the same as you; immediately, enemies surrounded me on all sides. I ran, and in my desperation I fell into the sewers...and decided to take a chance from there. I ended up here."
"This is...an information locker," Takamaki shakes her head. "Why would this be connected to the aqueducts?"
"Because since Tsukioka's power is built on blood and drug money, he has to keep his information surrounding all his exploits close to his chest," Niijima sighs, glowering at the bookshelves, wiping off dust and grime from her arms. "This is in some lower sanctum he's left in the corners of his mind, because once he's done with someone or something he can just cast it away, hide it in some locker somewhere like it had never meant anything at all."
"True. Tsukioka seems the kind to just shelve all his misdeeds to the back of his mind."
"This...is weird," Cat says.
"What's wrong? Any Shadows in this area?"
"No, actually. They're close, but they're hanging around outside this place. Likely guarding it...but none actually inside here."
"That's bizarre," I say. "If I were as paranoid as Tsukioka seems to be, I'd want eyes and ears inside this place especially."
"Well, there's none of that here. This is new to me, but... this whole area, this whole section of the Palace, from the walls to the rafters to the shelves and their contents. Interesting. It's all one big Will Seed."
I narrow my eyes at it, "What do you mean? This whole section of the Palace? It's all a Will Seed?"
"What's a Will Seed?" asks Akechi.
"Typically, they're small pockets of significant distortion. Contains a Palace Ruler's memories, but this...," cat shakes its head. "People have different methods of shelving away memories they'd like to bury. Different reactions to significantly traumatic memories. With Kamoshida, it could be distilled in a single book in the middle of the school gym. With Kaneshiro, it lay literally in his stomach. But Tsukioka's manifested a whole evidence locker as storage room for memories he'd like to keep under lock-and-key."
"And what does that mean?"
"He's suppressed all of these emotions and thoughts. Guy must be pushing back down an extraordinary amount of guilt, even for Palace Rulers."
"You can't be serious," Takamaki frowns. "Guy's guilty? After everything he's done, he doesn't even have the right to feel guilty."
"But he does. Can't stop someone from feeling what they feel, Lady. He's got so much unresolved anguish we'll likely be able to view his memories in full. Even the rest of you."
Takamaki narrows her eyes, "I remember that, when Joker and Sakamoto and Yoshizawa entered with us into Kamoshida's Palace, Joker and you were the only ones who could see through his memories. How was it you two were the only ones who could see them, and how would now be any different?"
"I've been thinking about that, actually," the cat says. "I don't know what special kinda abilities Kaz has got that allows him to see people's memories. But typically, because a Will Seed is full of suppressed memories, I suppose more ordinary folk like you guys wouldn't be able to see them. But this goes above and beyond suppression. I can feel it leaking through, like water bursting through the holes in a boat. Deep down he wants to spill his guts out to the whole world, but he can't. So picking through his past shouldn't be a problem for us whatsoever."
I snort, "Would be disturbingly depressing, were he not an old cunt who enables junkie kings and child molesters."
Akechi sighs, "I've spent many hours here, gathering information on drug lords and corrupt officers... including your father, Niijima-san."
"Take us there," Niijima says. "Then we'll be able to get this all over with."
"Very well," he steps forward, then stops, then turns back to us. "Wait."
"What now?" she groans impatiently.
"Before we go...what's with this naming scheme you people have come up with? Queen, Lady, Joker?"
"In Palaces, it's best to go by a codename. There's no telling what calling out your real name'll have on the Palace or its ruler," Cat shrugs. "We should come up with something for you."
Akechi doesn't say a word for a little, but appears a little flushed. "A-a name for me? Really?"
Cat hums, looks at him from top to bottom. "Pinocchio."
"What?"
"Your nose."
"No."
Aw, but it fits, you're a lying cunt anyway.
"Do we really have the time for this?" asks Niijima.
"Yeah we do. No Shadows around, other than the ones that can't make it through the trapdoor."
"We've already said his surname out loud, and he's said ours as well, to be fair," she grunts.
"Yeah, but it's fun! C'mon, we can't be all gloom and doom all the time."
"Alright," Takamaki sighs. "Uhhh... Pelican."
"Wha - no! I refuse to be called-"
"Okay, so another bird. White and red clothes." I can't resist. "Chicken."
"Another word out of you, I'm throwing you down the hole with the Slimes."
"What do you think you should be called?" Niijima wonders.
He exhales. "Well...perhaps Karasu would be best for me. You know, like a raven."
"Your rebel's robes are white," Cat snorts.
"I know. But my attire does not reflect image of a rebel; these clothes are those of a hero who sticks to their justice. But for how much I'd love to remain true to my beliefs...the fact of the matter is, in this miserable state of affairs, only underhandedness and violence ever make waves. In this sense, in participating with you all in even the smallest fashion, I am no such hero. Therefore, Karasu seems to suit me rather well. And besides. If our codenames hide our identities, wouldn't that be smarter?"
We get it, you're a fucking manga nerd behind closed doors, shut the fuck up.
Takamaki eyes him narrowly. "What about, Crow? It's shorter, snappier."
He hums, "I think I'm alright with that."
"Alright, you're Crow, now can we just keep moving?" Niijima growls, even pushing past him and marching onward into darkness.
She is impatient, strung up high against the wall. She's on a knife's edge and it makes me well beyond anxious. I don't know yet what it will take to break her, but I've a feeling something will in the next hour or so - and I honestly don't want to be there, when it happens.
I do not want to see someone far stronger than I ever could be, snap over things that would shatter me to pieces.
"R-right," he clears his throat. "Follow me, then."
We get there, and the area hardly feels climactic even in the slightest. It's not even a vault, where he would keep all his most valuable information; not even some secret hideaway or file locked in some cabinet somewhere. It's literally in just one of the many bookshelves in this area, in a massive box with the name DAISAKU NIIJIMA written in bold black marker.
Niijima stares at it, as if it's wronged her by its mere existence alone, and she's close to tearing up right then. Even Takamaki seems agonized over this, even tries to reach out to her a little; Niijima doesn't fall for long. Grabs the box, wrenches it out from the shelf, swats away the roaches and bugs scattered all over the back end. The box is brown and frayed at the sides and almost as large as her torso. Once she pulls it open she sees what's within.
Seven rolls of film reels.
"What...?"
"Watch them," says Akechi. "There's a projector not far from here. There, you'll learn."
.
.
.
7 / 18 / 2016
"Death to the Thieves - for the wrath of Father Tsukioka - curse the Thieves, their children too..."
Sae Niijima's Manikin is in pieces. Her right arm, both her legs, her only remaining wing, and her head have been shredded irreparably. She's left, twitching and retching on the ground; though most of her is scattered across the floor, what's left of her head and what's left of her torso remain twitching, dashing red upon the trash coating her.
I don't even remember how I did any of that, I don't even know how much time's passed at all. Perhaps it's been a few minutes. Perhaps I destroyed her over the course of an hour. But I haven't finished yet. As Satanael raises his gun, though, the hairs on the back of my neck stand on-end.
Suddenly from behind me two lights blare in the distance, casting my shadow upon the trash heap and the Manikin corpse in front of me. I turn around, hand at my mask, ready to slaughter whatever's in front of me, even if it be Tsukioka himself -
"Kazuya?"
-but I'm getting ahead of myself. What comes up at me is a black bus with cat ears sticking out from its roof. Yellow headlight-eyes glow ever brighter as the cat's wheels trample over trash. When it reaches me, it cries out, "Kazuya! You're alive!"
"What the...?"
"Good thing we've found you! We don't have much time! Queen and Lady are out there and they'll be screwed if we leave 'em for too long!"
Out from the front of the car comes a man with long brown hair, a red mask with a large pointed nose, and a white admiral's cloak with a red capelet. Akechi approaches me and grabs at my shoulder, "Are you alright, Hikawa-san? The cat - I mean, Morgana sensed you were somewhere around here."
"Felt the head honcho somewhere round here, too," says the cat. "Tsukioka was here... he isn't anymore, though."
I shake my head, "I don't even remember how we even..."
"Well...I suppose that makes sense. You did take quite a beating. We'll let you know on the drive to Takamaki and Niijima. Reserve your energy; we don't know what's coming next."
"They're in a place packed with Shadows and hostile Manikins," says the cat. "No telling what they'll do to them unless we get to them! Come on!"
"How did you even...? I was, I was in chains, somewhere..."
"We found information on Niijima's father...and then we were attacked. Morgana and I managed to escape, but we could not save you, nor Takamaki and Niijima. We had to hide. It took us several hours just to get to you. This whole labyrinthine structure...it's a dungeon, held deep within the basilica, above the information locker. Place is so massive it took us ages to get a bead on your location."
"Where're Takamaki and Niijima?"
"Further back," senses the cat. "An hour's drive away. Come on."
I nod tiredly, shuffling over to the seat beside the driver's as Akechi takes the wheel. "You're sure you'll be fit to fight? You look terrible."
"I always look terrible."
"You've got your phone on you?"
"No. Drive."
"Very well-"
"And their children, forever true."
Sae Niijima's Manikin rises from the ground as her pieces come back to her in mulches. Cracking noises burst out her shoulder blades as newer, greater, thicker black wings blanket the whole world, and she lets loose a scream, a wail that almost shatters my eardrums on the spot -
"AND THEIR CHILDREN AND THEIR CHILDREN AND THEIR CHILDREN AND THEIR CHILDREN-"
-a scream that forces Akechi and myself to cover our ears and we just barely hear the cat cry out "Shadows coming at us from all sides!"
"DEATH TO THE THIEVES! TO THEIR IDOLS AND KINGS! WE SHALL CUT THE DEVIL'S THROAT WHEREVER HE MAY BE! MAY THEIR CHILDREN BE ABORTED FROM NOW UNTIL KINGDOM COME!"
"Fucking drive!"
Akechi hits the pedal and turns on the gas, crashing into the cognitive Sae Niijima and sending her spilling into pieces yet again - I remember flames, I remember screaming, I remember tears, truths being upended. I remember Makoto Niijima, horrified beyond comprehension, crumpling and crying like a child - and recalling such things pains me beyond words.
.
.
.
7 / 17 / 2016
We make it to the projector and it's a bit of a rudimentary setup; past the musty shelves and dusty cupboards, the projector stands firm and tall and proud, facing a blank tarp. The tarp is rotten and old and withered but pale enough to be a screen we'd be able to look at, when the films play.
The first reel bears the date 5/5/1998. Niijima looks down upon it as if it were someone's disembodied head, and her hands tremble as she grips it in her hands; she's very nearly shaken up by it, almost too shaken up to put it in the projector, but she does.
"Should we go?" Takamaki asks her. "This...seems personal, for you."
"No," Niijima half-whispers. "We need to stick together in case a Shadow comes."
"Would you really want us to watch these with you...?" Takamaki asks again.
And all at once, all at once Niijima realizes even this, she hasn't thought through well enough. She's been so wrapped up in her anxiety that she hadn't even considered that.
"...I don't know. I don't know what to think any longer. You don't have to, if you don't want to, I suppose."
Takamaki nods, exhaling. "I'll stay a bit further back."
"So will I," I tell her.
She looks at us both. Suddenly, she gets her hands upon her legs, and bows deeply to the both of us, "I cannot thank you enough for coming here with me. There's nothing I can think of that could ever properly express my gratitude..." She then turns up and faces me in particular, "But I'm in your debt."
I just blink at her. Nodding.
Then she opens the projector.
The footage goes 5, 4, 3, 2, and then dashes away the 1 and shows upon the tarp this horribly grainy footage that's come straight out the 1930s. Black shadows peer across every inch of the frames, the people's oily faces shrouded in an obscene pitch black.
We realize we're watching from Tsukioka's point of view when a rather youthful but hard-edged man with short black hair and wide but dark eyes starts addressing the camera directly; audio's scratchy, almost indistinguishable from static, but soon enough it clears up and once it does I understand why Niijima has suddenly straightened her back and widened her eyes.
-a beautiful baby girl.
"Dad...," she murmurs, her voice cracking.
He's smiling; he's in a bar, he and Tsukioka. Waiters behind them are but shades of light passing around. Niijima's father is clear as he possibly could look, on something so archaic.
You or Atsuko came up with the name? The new voice is scratchy, but we recognize it as Tsukioka's by his tones, his inflections, by the fact no one else in the film speaks or opens their mouths during his line.
Atsuko wanted a gender-neutral name. I liked the name Makoto, but only if she turned out to be a girl; if a boy, he would've been named Masayuki. Niijima's father has a slightly gravelly tone, as if he'd been a chainsmoker in his youth, but he speaks of his daughter so warmly his voice is like wine to your ears. Makoto's great, though. Sincerity and integrity.
Tsukioka grunts, clearly grinning despite us being unable to see his face, Naming her after that which you'll never have?
Daisaku Niijima just laughs, taking it in jest. But his tone when he says this is almost dead serious. After that which we should all of us aspire to have. Even the worst of us.
Tsukioka doesn't really respond to that. Just clinks his shot next to Niijima's, and downs it in a single gulp. Once he exhales he expresses honestly, It's a beautiful name. I'm sure she'll live up to it.
Daisaku Niijima pauses, his eyes wavering before turning blank, and firm. She will. I'd rather that she and Sae not have to bear the sins of their father down upon their shoulders. They should live good lives, as far away from this cop shit as much as possible, all's said and done.
They could make fine officers, Niijima, chuckles Tsukioka, twirling the remnants of his glass absentmindedly. Niijima just stares at him, at us, and Tsukioka laughs it off, Kidding, kidding.
I've no pretenses about what it takes to become an officer in this district, Tsukioka-san, sir. We're wolves hunting other wolves, he says a little sadly. I'd much rather my daughters not be involved in any of this, in the slightest.
You're a good man, Niijima.
How can you say that, after all the shit we've pulled, he says that half-jokingly, but his eyes tell a different story.
Tsukioka places a hand upon his shoulder, You've only ever done what was needed of you. They tell us we've to clean these streets, but they hand us what might as well be toy guns and paper badges. There's no need to have any regrets.
I have none. Really, I don't, Niijima sighs. If anything...I feel I haven't been working hard enough. Some of these fucking assholes...God. Wish I could to to them what I did to Tsuruya. Fucking prick.
This is cause for celebration, Niijima. Don't let that get you down. Little Makoto'll catch on and she'll adopt that fucking angry look in your eyes.
She already has, Niijima laughs, her brows are furrowed all the time, like she's angry. She'll grow up to be so unbelievably beautiful. Sae's already jealous of all the attention she's getting and it's almost gotten outta hand. Damn. Atsuko and the sitter'll have their hands full at home.
I'm absolutely sure of that. Sooner or later they'll be heading off to kinder.
Sooner or later a lot of things will happen. Too many things I'll be able to keep track of...until it's too late. Niijima's face then turns still, and stoic, and he covers his eyes completely with his hand, still maintaining a smile as he hangs his head low. I wish, I wish...I just wish Atsuko could be there to see it happen. I wish she could see her go to kindergarten and graduate and... I wish she could see a lot of things.
Tsukioka says nothing, as his glass is poured, She will. I'm sure of it.
Makoto Niijima looks like her heart's been frozen solid, as tears stream freely down from her face, and her lower jaw chatters as she grits her teeth.
She hasn't spoken to me in months, her father says, exhaling. She can't even look at me these days. Can't say I don't deserve it, but... after she gave birth to Makoto, she wouldn't even let me see her. Not even for one second. She only let me hold her yesterday, and even then she took her back after a minute.
Her father is looking down at his hands; they're trembling a little, fingers closing slowly into fists before blooming open again.
How is she? Tsukioka asks him. How's she dealing with...her diagnosis?
She's got enough fight in her to last a while, the doctors say. A surgery should help her. She's confident she's going to survive it... if she isn't, she's not letting me know.
How are you dealing with it?
I don't want to lose her. Even if she hates me until the end of the world, I don't want to lose her. Hospital expenses are beyond anything I can deal with, right now, Niijima shakes his head. So you're going to have to be a little lenient with me.
"No...," Makoto Niijima mutters, utterly shattered to pieces. She'd fall to her knees on the spot, but we're watching her, she won't let herself break while we're watching her, "No, Dad. No..."
Of course. Kamiki's got a job for anyone willing to take it. You'll be able to rake in what you need from there.
Where do I meet with him?
Near the bay. Address and details here, Tsukioka slips him an envelope. I'll let him know you'll pull it off.
How many pounds?
Enough for a whole apartment building.
Business must be running a little slow these days.
It is. The Munenoris have got better product; some foreign shit that makes smack look like fucking marijuana.
No shit. Niijima's father smiles, nary a twinge of regret or fear, Thank you.
The film reel ends right there. And Niijima, despite her heavy breathing, despite the tears storming down her eyes, despite the rage in her pupils that can't be obscured even by her unwieldy iron mask, can't shove in the next one fast enough.