The idea for this story came to me when I saw a news report about a woman who tried pushing someone in front of a train. I thought "if I was standing on a train platform, and had the opportunity to shove an ugly person in front of a train, would I take it?" The concept of this is to basically write my perfect "spirit animal" interpretation of Ann who understands the need to punish ugly people for their role in societal decay in the same way I do.
A quick note: I purposefully leave the gender of Ann's victim unmentioned (and gave them a unisex name). This is so there's no gender bias or gender role at play in how one interpretes what Ann did to them, to make sure that the idea of her disliking ugly people is mostly agendered in nature, as it is for me.
(This is my interpretation as a self-purported cacophobe. If this somehow offends you, or you don't agree with any of this, from this above description alone, I suggest you simply leave. Please don't rant at me in the comments about how this "offends you" or that this interpretation of Ann us "out of character", such comments will be ignored)
The atmosphere in that courtroom was oppressive. It hung over me like an axe—like the executioner's axe, that would come to chop off my head.
As I sat there in the defendant dock, I felt almost relieved, though. This whole ordeal had been stressful, and now I was finally going to be able to put it to rest. For better or...most likely for worse. Even so, at least I'd be able to settle into my place.
My place...as a murderer. My place as the person who betrayed the trust of her friends.
"...The representative for the jury will now read the decision."
I took in a breath at the sound of the judge's voice. I knew what the verdict was going to be. I had confessed fully to the crime, after all, and had pleaded guilty.
As I look towards the woman who has stood up, I can't help but become irritated, however. This woman—the one who shall decide my fate, looks nowhere close to "beautiful". She isn't mature bodied, she isn't smooth skinned. Sure, she's not hideous or anything, but...compared to me, she was nothing at all.
I don't know why I even put up with this...
I'm the hottest one in this courtroom—the most beautiful, smooth-skinned, well-formed, physically flawless...I'm so perfect. So much better than everyone else...So why is it that I'm the one in the cuffs?
...
At that thought, I look down at the cuffs that bind my hands together. I've become so used to them, that I can barely feel them around my wrists anymore.
"..."
It's odd...For the recent part of my life, I had become a criminal...someone who was breaking the law—but something as serious as this felt almost like it's own other world of 'criminal'. I've hardly been able to talk to my friends ever since the day of my arrest.
Every time they told me they think I didn't do it—only for me to reiterate that I did, was...torturous on them, I'm sure.
I've betrayed everything they believed me to be. A part of me realises that. But another part of me feels as though I never lied to them. I never once deceived them. Not once did I lie about who I was. They just...assumed.
Well, as it turns out, I suppose they weren't the only ones. I was "assuming" too—I assumed I would never end up in a position like this. But that was just a fool's wish. As it turns out, there's no way this couldn't have happened. It was inevitable...
...
"On the charge of the first degree murder of Hibiki Aoi, we the jury find the defendant...Ann Takamaki, guilty."
The verdict is a shock to no-one, and yet its deliverance is still that of a heavy weight. I suppose it's the term 'first degree murder' that does that for most people. It does pack a considerable punch, I admit.
It was difficult at first, to register myself as a 'murderer'...I couldn't process the notion. Although looking back on it now, my soul has basically been emptied of any part that used to care. I've spent all of my time locked away in a cell, reliving my kill over and over again.
What I did to that person...on that day...
At first it had shaken me up. Although I think it was the simple weight of taking the life of a human being. It just felt like a big deal, by its very nature. After it had actually settled into my mind, though, I kept reminding myself of what they were. Of what that...disgusting, putrid piece of trash was, and what they represented.
From there, I was somehow able to drive myself into a bottomless pit of apathy. I couldn't care less what had happened to them—I didn't care at all about the fact that they were dead. That I had...taken that life away with my own hands.
"(Stupid waste...they got what they had coming...)"
...
As I begin to snap out of my trance and gain focus, I realise that the judge is talking to me.
"This crime was abhorrent on multiple levels," he says. His voice is stern and cold, as much as it is quiet and unwavering. "It was a cruel, needless, and disgusting attack, that was entirely unprovoked."
I look at the judge from down my nose—he's a wrinkly old bastard...he's been getting on my nerves this entire trial, acting like some...some boomer. It's annoying as hell...
"With due respect, Your Honour, I was provoked," I say.
The judge puts his hand up, as if commanding me to stop.
"A stranger standing in a public area is not provocation, Takamaki-san," he says to me, sternly, "Aoi-san was doing nothing but waiting for the train, when you callously ran up from behind and shoved Aoi-san onto the tracks."
He allows his point to hang in the air. I can't help but look down at my hands—my cuffed hands. They were my 'murder weapon' on that day. With these hands, I pushed that person onto the tracks, seconds before a train was to speed past.
The fatal outcome was inevitable from the moment I decided to push that person.
"...They were offending me," I simply state back to the judge. "They were...an offensive person to me. That's why I did what I did..."
"And how did Aoi-san 'offend you', exactly?"
I pause, and look to the ground, slightly to my right. I was expecting the subject of my motivations to come up at some point, although I didn't expect it to happen after I was declared guilty. It somehow gives it more weight.
"...They were ugly, Your Honour."
As I speak the words, my voice threatens to break.
"Do you not think someone like me is entitled to end the life of such a...pathetically ugly human being?"
I can sense the distain that is sat across most in the courtroom.
Not that it particularly bothers me. If people want to consider me insane, than so be it. I know what I am—and hell, they can see what I am at just a single glance in my direction.
"You're not 'entitled' to end anyone's life," says the judge, "especially over such...shallow and self-centred nonsense."
I grit my teeth, and close my eyes.
"D-Don't be absurd...!" I spit out, "I...I have every right to do what I did! That...that goblin didn't even deserve to exist, let alone take the same train as me!"
After that leaves my mouth, there's this bizarre feeling that occurs in my chest. It's like a pushback, or...I suppose I should describe it as a conscious feeling of some sort of illogicality. It's as though I know what I'm saying doesn't make absolute sense, but that I refuse to even care.
The fact that it's seen as so 'illogical' is the issue in the first place. Whether it 'makes sense' is a moot point. I deserve this. There is no doubt about that in my mind.
I -deserve - this.
"Do you want to know why I did it?" I ask, through grit teeth, "the REAL reason?"
A harsh silence descends across the courtroom. Even the judge is still and quiet, glaring me down from upon his raised bench. Judging me, like the gatekeeper at the underworld...
"Life has been difficult for me...I've felt isolated ever since I came to this country. I've had to go through...oh so much pain, and struggle..."
Just recalling all of that makes me feel sick to my stomach. I've begun to change so much, but—there's always been something inside of me that's never quite gotten over it. Although I suppose it's fairer to say that there's something in that that I've always hidden away; the side of me that understands the true cause of every struggle I've ever had.
"But then I...I became part of the...the..."
I close my eyes and shake my head.
"...I meet my friends, and began to...change..."
Even now, I can't sell them out. I've not completely lost myself—I understand how important our bonds are, and how cherished my position in the Phantom Thieves is. Even if it's been blown to pieces already...thanks to that one vision I was shown.
"It was through that that I began to feel more confident...more assertive...more sexy, and lucid..."
I open my eyes, and smirk.
I don't mean to—but in the moment, I feel so elevated from relieving my experiences in my mind.
"And I began to perceive the true cause of my struggles...All of it came from a single obvious source—a source that was all around me."
I make a point of looking to my right, and then to my left. I tilt my head over my shoulder, catching a glimpse of the hordes of cattle in the stands. After a moment, I look back to the judge, the smirk on my lips completely gone, replaced with a snarl.
"The physically inferior cattle all around me. They are the cause of everything."
...
There's another stiff silence that fills the courtroom. This time it's something else, though. The silence feels awkward, and oppressive. As opposed to when it felt like people wanted me to speak, this was almost like the room was shocked into silence by what I was saying.
I considered that to be a good thing, though. That meant that my words were having an impact, at least. It was better than being...laughed at, for example.
In any case, I take the silence as an opportunity to continue my point.
"There are those who wander through their lives, looking to me as 'what they can never be'..." I say, while standing in a fairly casual position, with one leg poised, "and so to them all I am is some sort of...doll to admire. Oh, but no, they can't admit that, so what do they do? They act like they care. But that's just a goddamn lie."
I shake my head, and then lean against the stand with my cuffed hands.
"Do you want to know something? There's a world out there were people are watching us..."
I probably sound insane, but...well, maybe I am. Even so, that one vision I was shown was enough to make me wake up and understand—I could perceive who the true enemy of mine actually was.
"In that world, these people...they decide everything about us...what we do, how we act, how we look..."
As I speak, I have to force down the tirade of twisted feelings in my gut. My stomach is aching from irritation—it's a stiffening and downright piercing form of anger that makes it difficult to breathe. The type that is born from inescapability.
"Oh, and that's not all...In this world there also exist these...cults that are dedicated to worshiping people from our world."
In the vision I had been shown...there were these bizarre legions of people who controlled our fates—wrote bizarre fables about us, even put us into these strange awkward romantic pairings. It was the cult that worshipped me, who stuck out like a sour thumb, however. To describe them as creepy would be underselling it.
They were disgusting, miserable creatures, who acted as though they were somehow...putting me on a positive platform. Not dressing me up as a doll, to be used and abused by their members. It was a cult of worship, born out of pathetic desperation and 'thirst'.
"...So in this...world that you say exists..." the judge slowly speaks to me, "you say you are...worshipped as some sort of goddess...?"
It isn't difficult to notice how disturbed he is by my ramblings. I don't care, though. This is all true, after all.
"This world is made by unattractive males, for the twisted entertainment of unattractive males, and disgusting girls with nowhere else to turn to...in their little cults, gathered around their holy grounds of 'Read-at' and 'Diss-card'..."
"...And this led you to take an innocent person's life, because...?"
I can only cackle at his question.
"How can you not understand? It's ugly people! They're the problem!"
I clench my hands into fists, and wildly shake my head. I slam my cuffed fists onto the stand.
"They created me, forged me into their perfect little image, berated me, sexualised me, worshipped me like a doll, and then have the fucking audacity to act like they're somehow protecting me! And hell, even in this damn world, those stupid Plain-Janes and Typical-Taros have always avoided me! They've never had any respect for me, so why the fuck should I be expected to respect them?!"
After my little rant, I'm left rather breathless. I pant to catch my breath, before slumping my upper body forward, over the bench. The reality of the situation is beginning to set in—that all I have left is my loud and bombastic yelling. That no one will care, that no one will listen. That I'll die as an example of some sort of...disgusting brat, and not what I should be: a message to break the cycle and to stop the casual oppression of good-looking women.
To stop giving so much power to unattractive men to control us.
"D-Do you know...the worst part...?"
I force myself up, and into a standing position.
"No one cares." I simply state. I allow the statement to hang for a moment. "Sure, you hear talk all the time of sexualisation, or sexism, but no, no, no, that isn't even close to the root of the problem...!"
I spin around, so that I'm face-to-face with the members of the gallery—the disgusting cattle who have all come to gawk at me while I'm sentenced to my punishment.
"It's you, all of you! You're the problem!" I yell out—at that point, several bailiffs march up to me and restrain me by my arms. I suppose they're worried I'm gonna try and do something. Not that I plan to. What good would it do me now? "You mindless, ugly, gross, inferior cattle! None of you deserve to live in this world with me! None of you...!"
"No...!"
In amongst the loud chattering of the bewildered and trepidatious cattle, someone in the gallery suddenly stands up.
"Ann, you're not like this! What the hell happened to you...?!"
I clench my eyes shut, and try and blank my mind, hoping to try and block out my thoughts on who it is that is speaking. Even inside of my chest, I try and push away any emotions I'm feeling.
I can tell who it is, though—I can't bring myself to lie to myself at all. It's clearly...
"What happened to make you like this?! How could you ever—"
The sound of a banging gavel brings things back to order.
"Order! Order! Any member of the gallery found to be disturbing this trial will be swiftly removed!"
Through the chaos of noise comes the command of the judge. The chattering appears to die down a little, although it's not completely gone. I open my eyes, just in time to notice the doors of the courtroom swing shut—When I look back to the spot they had been, there's nothing but an empty seat.
They were the only one of my friends who bothered coming—and now even they've left me. On the one hand, that hurts me at my core. To be so totally abandoned, although on the other, it feels almost like a blessed relief. Like the plaster has finally been pulled off in its entirety...
"Defendant, you will face me this instant!"
I grit my teeth, as the bailiffs force me to turn around.
"G-Get off me...!" I spit at them, "how dare you handle someone like me in that way?! Can't you at least get some good-looking bailiffs in here?!"
As I glare up at the judge, all I can see is the figurehead behind an oppressive cycle of casual lookism aimed at people like me. I just wish it could be broken—but of course that's never going to happen. Because this world is a truly cruel and horrific place.
"You, young lady, are clearly in need of severe mental help," he says—his old and crackled voice just pisses me off, as does his aged face. "The matter of your sentencing will be handled in due course. However nothing that you say here, today, can possibly justify what you did on that train platform last month."
I grit my teeth, and growl.
"(Has this old bastard been listening to a word I've said?!)"
"Hibiki Aoi was a 16-year-old on their way to visit their grandparents. You, randomly, and without warning, approached from behind, and, knowingly, shoved Hibiki Aoi in front of a speeding train."
There's still some quiet chattering of voices from behind me. Somehow it's only adding to my growing irritation.
"This unprovoked attack has hurt many people. Aoi-san's life was lost, their family and friends lost a loved one..."
Honestly, I feel a little bad over that—I mean, I can empathise at the very least. Even so, I consider it a necessary evil. My...distain for ugly people is too strong at this point. It's enveloped me.
"...And I hesitate to say, that this has hurt your life as well, Takamaki-san."
The judge shakes his head.
"If you wanted to express a message to others...killing an innocent bystander was not the way to go about it."
...
He will never understand...
He won't grasp the inescapable position that I was bound into, chained down by...
"This has ruined your life, and has only left a foul taste in the mouths of others. It has put a stain on the history of your model agency, and has hurt them in an irreparable way."
...
No...that isn't true. If anything, this should be a wakeup call—this is what any good model should do. To truly wake up, get up, and get out there...to understand that we're being used by a world that doesn't actually care about us at all!
To stamp out the casual lookism we're subjected to every damn day for daring to be beautiful, for daring to be sexy...!
"...It is a shame to see a young up-and-coming model uch as yourself throw away your life like this. To you, it might have been nothing but a single shove—but that one shoved shattered the lives of many, many people. I hope one day you can get the help you need, and gain some peace of mind, Takamaki-san."
No, that won't be 'the help I need' at all. That'll be forcing my mouth shut again, while the cycle of oppression and casual, institutionalised lookism and ugly acceptance continues on, and on, and on, and on...
At the thought, all I can do is growl. I grit my teeth, and clench my fists—I can't stand this. Just...living is painful when I know I'm just some poster girl for continued oppression. That in that world I saw, I was worshipped for that position by disgusting looking men, and salty self-righteous Karens.
What an absolute joke...
...
Eventually the trial was brought to a close, and I was escorted out of the courtroom. I figured I was going to get transported to some sort of mental ward, where I'd be gagged and bound up in a straight jacket, but in actuality, I was just taken back to my holding cell.
I sat there for what felt like days on end—alone, by myself. Having my beauty locked away inside of this cell felt almost like it was a joke in itself—or perhaps it was their idea of a 'fitting punishment'. It was difficult to tell.
Either way, I had hoped that once I had been found guilty at my trial, some sort of...weight would be lifted from my shoulders. But no, nothing of the sort happened. It was just...agonising. The agonising understanding of powerlessness. Of knowing nothing will change.
...
[ Several days later... ]
"...So they've set sentencing for...next month..."
"Ah, I see..."
I can't believe someone came to visit me...All this time I've spent in detention, my friends have dwindled one by one. I guess killing an innocent person for no reason—from their point-of-view—other than narcissism is something they can't exactly stomach. Maybe they're trying to pretend they never met me...or maybe they're trying to treat me like a "trick"—not the real Ann Takamaki.
Either way, the irony of this person being the final friend to actually care enough to visit is astronomical...
"...How are the others...?" I ask to her. My voice is monotone, and lifeless—this situation has all but blown the soul out of my body. I'm barely even alive anymore.
"Oh, they're just fine," says my guest—as I look at her through the plexiglass, she smiles at me. Something about it stings my heart. "We're still...erm..."
She lowers her voice, and flickers her eyes over towards the guard by the door, temporarily.
"D-Doing our usual business..." she mutters to me, with her hand up to the side of her mouth.
"...I see."
Honestly, the Phantom Thieves stuff is so far in my past by now, I barely can recall what the 'usual business' is. It's only been less than a month, but to me, this past month has dragged on for what's felt like years of my life.
"...Ren and Haru both said to say hi, by the way—oh, and guess what, I recently brought this new RPG that's SOOO totally out of this world!"
...
All I can think to say in response is—
"That's cool."
I let out a sigh, and close my eyes. I'm sure the past me would have been super chatty right now, but I can't be excited. I'm not sure if I'll ever able to be excited again...
"You know, I've started calling you Villainess-Ann—is that okay? I mean, I still don't believe this is really you. So, you know, until this is over, I'm calling you Villainess-Ann, and I'm calling the real Ann, er...True-Beauty-Ann!"
...
"You know, like the old cliché in fiction? Beauty is on the inside! That old chestnut?"
...
"Er, so, that's fine, right? I hope it is, because I've sort of been doing it. So, you know..."
...
"Wow, look at us! Like, I'm the chatty one, and you're all silent! It's like a total role reversal! Talk about your anime cliches!"
...
"This is, like, what you'd see in episode 650 of an anime, after the villain's had their Heel Face Turn, and the hero's begun to go Evil From Power. Speaking of that, that happened in the anime I'm watching, and..."
...
"And then he was all like, 'Gaaaaaaaaaaah, noooooooooooo' and then they crashed through the roof of a bathhouse which was so obviously an excuse for fan service T-B-H, but—"
...
"—the animation was kinda bad. At least the writing was good. Anyway, the point is, that I, ya know, still believe in you! Even if the others are saying I shouldn't...I mean, no one is saying that, but...well..."
...
I had been listening to her rabbit my ear off for the last five or so minutes. But I couldn't hold it in any longer.
"I'm the real Ann, Futaba."
Futaba's expression swiftly falls into a concerned one.
"But what if that's not true? What if that's just what you're supposed to be feeling, but in reality you've been...replaced, or...changed against your will?"
I rub at my arm, and shake my head. Out of all of my friends, why is it her who has been able to cling to a belief in me for so long?
"...Don't be an idiot," I say to her, "this is the real me. It's always been me. You lot just...never knew what was really going on inside of my mind."
It had always been there, to some extent. It had been that vision of mine that had opened the floodgates, so to speak.
"...Don't get me wrong, I was never lying to you guys," I clarify, with a sigh, "but just because I had that side of me, it doesn't mean this side isn't real too."
"B-But Ann...why?"
Futaba sounds legitimately hurt. It's strange that hearing that even bothers me, though. I'm the one who ranted about all 'physically inferior cattle' being worthless to me—I even killed over it, and yet here I am with this friend who isn't exactly the 'bombshell beauty' type herself.
I can admit, it's hypocritical, but...
No, in a way, that's exactly what hurts so much. It's more so the fact that this is all a part of the same problem...
This is all a ridiculous nonsense...
"Why what?" I ask Futaba.
"...Is it true that you...did what you did because you thought they were ugly...?"
I simply nod my head.
"...I've been thinking about this for the past month, but...I just can't understand it," says Futaba. "I mean...I always thought that you wanted to express yourself while...using it to help other people."
I look to the floor, and let out a sigh.
"I do. But it depends on your definition of help."
"Well...fighting for justice," Futaba replies, "you know, like...not hurting people, not pushing others down...?"
The way she's talking makes it almost seem like she's lecturing me. I would be mad, but I can't be bothered—besides, she's right, in a way. I suppose in a sense, I have been lying to them...if only by virtue of false inference.
"...Ugly people are the scum of existence, Futaba."
"...Ugly-hearted people, maybe, Ann."
I can tell her inference simply by the way she said 'hearted'. Of course...in a way, it is deeply ironic...
"I'm sorry Ann, but...you'd be on that site, you know?"
I grimace, and clench my teeth.
"N-No, that's not true...!"
"It IS true...You're the sort of person whose heart we'd steal," Futaba continues, seemingly unperturbed, "and you know what else? Before all of this...we'd have hoped you'd be there alongside us when the time came."
I shake my head.
"That'd have never happened," I bluntly say, "if there was a calling card about something like that, I...I'd have flat out refused."
Futaba sighs, and leans back in her seat.
"...I still don't understand why you feel this way, in the first place," she says. "None of us do. We're all completely taken back by all of this."
...
I've been explaining myself so much since my trial, that just the thought of doing it again barely bothers me.
Although...
"Would it be better if you did understand...?" I ask.
"Huh?"
"...Maybe it's best for you to be ignorant," I continue, "that way you can remember me as the...stupid ugly-sympathising, cattle-saving sexy hand-made-doll I used to be."
My vitriolic ramble seems to have only bewildered Futaba. I let out a sigh, and shake my head at her.
"Look...Back when I had my awakening, I...I thought I had broken free..." I explain, "but I hadn't...I hadn't broken free at all. It was all hand-crafted to perfection by...w-well it was all just the outcome of my strings being pulled."
"Being pulled...by who...?"
"Ugly people."
"U-Ugly...people...?"
As I continue to speak, a sort of fiery temperament fills my gaze; but it's controlled and light. Like the sparks at the scene of a house fire that was already forcibly extinguished.
"...That world full of ugly men and women who all treat me and my appearance like some...some power fantasy..."
I chuckle at Futaba's wide-eyed confusion—a dry type of chuckle.
"Although I suppose that world is just a...metaphor for something that already exists in our own world. The system of oppression and hatred towards people like me, fuelled by physically inferior scum."
I take in a breath, and allow my lips to form into a bittersweet smile.
"I've been through a lot...and although there's been a lot of different faces to put onto the hardships I've faced, there's one that's hidden. Not so clear-cut, and yet is always there, silently contributing to the problem. And that is physically inferior people who don't stay in their lane."
"A-Ann..."
Futaba shakes her head, sadly.
"I-I don't understand...How does any of this justify killing an innocent person?"
"They were one of the physically inferior."
"T...That's it...?"
I nod my head.
"If you want to put it that way, then sure."
"B-But..."
"When I saw them there that day, I began to think...I thought, 'this physically disgusting person might be about to get onto the train with me'...Something inside of me twisted and turned, and I felt a bile in my stomach."
I close my eyes—memories of the night in question flashing through my head. Of that one little shove, that altered the course of my entire life.
"I walked up behind them while they were busy using their phone..."
I put my hands up, and smirk.
"And then...I gave them a nice, hard shove..."
And shove my hands forward, mimicking the action of that day.
"They fell...onto the tracks—and a mere second or so later..."
...The train had come, hitting them. After that, some other members of the public started making a panic—I remember feeling stunned into position, and barely noticing what was happening though. I think after a few seconds some people had begun to restrain me.
...
"A...Ann..."
Futaba looks...disturbed. There's tears in her eyes, and she seems on the verge of crying. I suppose my rather descriptive recount of what I did got to her, somehow.
"Look at you-! L-Look at yourself right now...!" Futaba begins to rant, "you're sitting there, telling me about how you MURDERED someone, with a smirk on your face, a-and you want me to believe you're the real Ann...?!"
She wildly shakes her head.
"No! No damn way! You're Villainess-Ann a-and you've replaced True-Beauty-Ann somehow! There's no way this is really happening!"
I only sigh in response to her ranting.
I suppose she's never going to truly understand.
"Futaba, this is the real me."
Futaba stands up, and slams her palms down.
"NO—"
"Listen to the part of you that knows you're wrong, Futaba," I calmly interject, "just accept the truth: this is who I am now. I'm sorry but physically inferior people are—"
"There's no such thing as physically inferior! People are just different to you!"
I frown.
"Don't give me that. Different? My body is not just 'different', it's better. The structure of my skull is superior. The body of that idiot I killed was inferior."
"If I was on that platform, would you have shoved me onto the tracks?!"
"...What?"
Futaba is glaring at me with a mixed expression of anger and sadness.
"I-If I was there...would you shove me in front of the train...?"
"..."
Her question catches me off-guard—although I have nothing to really hide anymore. All I can do is answer honestly.
"...Probably not."
"Then what the hell's the difference?!"
"Pardon?"
Futaba grits her teeth.
"D-Don't you understand that I'm jelly of how sexy you are?!"
"W-Well...—"
"If you want to kill anyone who is physical inferior to you, then why not kill me too...?!"
...
I didn't want to admit to myself what the answer was.
Of course, it was because I had grown a type of bond with her. Besides, she's not exactly ugly...Then again, she is physically inferior to me, that much I can't deny.
"...You're missing the point, Futaba."
"N-No, I'm not! I-I...I...—Aaaaaaugh! Dammit, I used to admire you so much, Ann! W-Why did you...why did you have to go and...a-and..."
At that point one of the guards walks over.
"You want to try keeping it down over here?"
Futaba sighs, and slumps down into her chair.
"I-I'm sorry..."
The guard gives her one last look, before marching away.
"...Futaba..."
I put a hand against the plexiglass.
"Listen to me...Just forget about me, and go live your life with the others...okay?"
Futaba looks at me with the same intermix of sadness and anger as before. It quickly falls though, giving way to a more difficult-to-interpret expression. If I had to guess, though, I'd go for a type of pity.
"Ann..."
"I don't know why you're even visiting me still," I continue, "everyone else has stopped. Why do you still keep coming?"
"...I honestly don't know."
Futaba leans forward, and sighs.
"I just...still want to believe in you Ann."
Her lips tug into a type of smile—it's distant, though.
"I want to go back to thinking if I drink my milk I'll still have a chance of growing it in the right places like you...I want to go back to watching your dancing, and thinking 'wow, she's SO sexy, I'm totally jelly!'..."
...Dancing?
"Dancing? When was that?"
"Huh?"
Futaba's eyes go wide, and she folds her arms.
"Er...sorry, that was a dream I had once. These two adorable twins—one a tsundere—made us dance so we didn't get our balls set on fire, or...something, it's kinda fuzzy. "
That...sounds like quite the dream.
Anyway, moving on from that...
"...Ann...tell me the truth, do...do you actually believe the stuff you're saying?"
Her question is so straight forward that it actually confuses me. I tilt my head slightly.
"Hm?"
"...You must know it doesn't make sense. You have to know that it just...ruins yours and other peoples lives, that there's no good that comes out of it."
Somewhere inside my mind there is a part of me that thinks that to be true—but it's that part of my thinking that I consider wrong. That's the infectious virus that exists in all of us. Now that I've seen the vision of that other world, it's become so clear to me, clearer than ever before, that overpowering that 'this is wrong' sensation is the key point here.
"I do. Ugly people are the cause of all the world's problems...and they need to be punished."
Futaba sighs.
"...Then...this is the end of your personal character arc, I guess..."
Trust Futaba to put it like that...
I do have to admit, I miss her little quirks. I miss all my friends to some extent. But at the same time, I need to just completely move on...
"Visiting time is over in five!" shouts out one of the guards. Futaba turns to look in his direction, before looking back at me.
"...Ann, I...I want to ask you one last thing..."
...
I stay silent, and simply look at her to allow her to speak.
"If you could take this all back, and...continue being with us, would you?"
...
That's something I've been mauling over for the longest time. If I could take all of this back, is that something I'd like to do?
In the end, the answer was obvious to me.
"If I could go back and tell the me from a month ago to not do it...then I would."
Futaba's face lights up a little.
"R-Really?"
"...Sure. I do miss you guys...Besides, it's not like it had any proper impact."
It's true—I ruined my life through what I did that day.
If I had a stronger will, I would have been able to hold off—and then I could've done something else, something long term. I could have had the guts to express my true self in a way that allowed me and my friends to still stay together, side-by-side.
...
"...I hope they give you a light sentence, Ann," says Futaba. As I look at her, she gives me a quivering, light smile, while rubbing tears from her eyes. "I hope you get the help you need, and...and maybe one day, in the future, you really can come back to us!"
That seemed unlikely, but I suppose anything is possible.
Still...
"Yeah...in the very distant future, maybe."
...
At the sound of the alarm, marking the end of visiting hours, Futaba stood up. Ann did the same.
"...Well, I'll...see you again, Ann..." Futaba says. "To be honest, it takes me a lot of prepping to be okay coming here to visits though, so...I'm sorry if I can't visit you that often."
...
How ironic that the only person to bother visiting me is the one with the most excuse not to.
"...Sure...thanks."
"Oh, and by-the-way, Ryuji, Yusuke, Haru, and Makoto, all said they wanted to visit sometime, but they've not found the time yet," Futaba says. "I mean, when you think about it, it's not like any of them are eager to visit a prison, you know...?"
I have to be honest, that thought never even crossed my mind.
Maybe there are circumstances stopping people visiting me, beyond simply abandoning me and moving on.
"Well, bye Villainess-Ann...Hopefully I'll be able to visit True-Beauty-Ann again one day, huh?"
If only she could tell that that is who she's visiting...
If only she could tell that—that she can't is part of the problem...
Either way, before I can voice any complaints, she's already turned and walked away...
...
A month later at my sentencing, I was given life imprisonment. Apparently I was judged as being fully in control of my actions at the time of the incident.
Go figure.
This is ironically the worst punishment. Having to spend my life locked away in a jail cell—and given how attractive I am, I'm fearing for the worst in prison too. They say women don't fare well in prison. Throw being a hot model onto the mix, and I'm in for a whole world of problems.
Doesn't help that prison is full of so many uglies too—Everywhere I look the person is ugly. Ironically, the only time I'm actually happy—well, not happy, but at least at my most peaceful, is during visiting hours. Even when no one comes to visit me, I'm able to hang out in the visiting room—
Although, all that changed one day. During one of my visits, someone from a modelling agency turned up. My old agency had obviously pulled the plug on me, but these guys...well, they were prepared to offer me some work. Apparently it was all approved, and above board and everything.
"Wait, so...I'll be modelling...?"
"That's right...Ann Takamaki, the femme fatale murderous! That's the angle we'll be going for."
I could hardly refuse—it would be some relief from my jail life—and I'd be able to express my beauty to the world at large. That said, it still hurt a lot. After all, all of this was my fault. All that had changed was how restricted I've become—through my rashness, I've only succeeded in allowing them to suppress me even more.
Although at least with this modelling deal, I've been able to return to a shred of normality. If only I had had the will power to withstand shoving Hibiki Aoi that day—all that shove brought me was restrictions and chains.
If only I had been able to express myself as a femme fatale, with no time for ugly people—now that I'm here, under the image of the murderous, with nothing to hide, it's so obvious that this is what I should've done from the start.
I should have been open, and assertive—I should have expressed my disgust from the beginning, and I should have never stood for the vile and casual lookism aimed at me and my people.
I'd have been able to express that message without the needless title of "murderous" to taint it.
But either way, this is how things now are.
So this is how things end—the end of my 'character arc', as Futaba put it...
"Okay, so like that, with the whip in your hand...that's it..."
As I stand here, in front of the white screen, displaying my delicious body for all to see. The photographer moves from angle to angle, finding the perfect way to capture my 'goods'.
"Tug at the whip like that, that's right..."
I do as he says—the whip feeling rather natural in my hands. I'm used to using one, after all, not that they'd be aware of such a thing...
"That's good...Oh, yes, you're looking great today, Takamaki-san."
It's remarkable how well I can maintain myself, even while in prison.
"Haha...Oh, you should know me. I'm all about my looks..."
The photographer moves back, then singles to me with a thumbs up.
"Okay, one last shot—this will be the money maker, Takamaki-san. Get ready to say the thing."
I nod, then smirk—
How my life turned out wasn't too bad, I suppose. Given the circumstances, anyway...Hell, they even let me have my costume! Now that can't be bad, right?
"Okay, so...three...two...one..."
"Offer your life to me, uggos...!"
.
"It's Pretty Panther, your uggo-slayer!"