This story is a derivative fanwork written by GodandMen for the Toaru Majutsu no Index/とある魔術の禁書目録 franchise.
SACRIFICES
I
-x-
"Please sensei!"
The night wind swept across the park and met them in full force. It blew Judgment's Judgment's twin tails right into Jim's face. It felt like someone was rubbing his face with a metal wire brush.
I didn't know Metal Hair was a power.
Jim moved away from her powerful attack.
"Kuroko, who is she again?"
"The mistress, sensei. She is the supervisor of our Tokiwadai dormitory."
The witness had already been escorted to the Anti-Skill HQ for protection. For the last three hours they had been searching and asking all of the convenience stores in the designated areas. Yet they found no hint or clue about the victim or the snack.
Even with the Task Force's help, there was nothing.
So once again, after the long afternoon of fruitless searching, the trio was gathered around the patrol car to consider their options.
The sun had set.
And it was past Judgment's curfew.
"Please, sensei! If you speak to the mistress I'm sure she will make an exception. Please tell her how important I am to the investigation!"
Jim was kind of surprised by how scared Judgment was.
Yomikawa yawned loudly and reached her hand out to take Judgment's open cellphone. The girl happily gave it to her, her eyes beaming with hope.
Meanwhile Jim picked at his nose.
How old is Judgment anyways?
"Hello? This is Yomikawa Aiho of Anti-Skill. I'm sorry for taking up Shirai-san's time in an Anti-Skill case. She has been a great help in the investigation –"
The Judgment girl beamed proudly, puffing her chest up and raising her chin.
"– but I will be sending her back now. Next time I will be more considerate of her status as a minor and the curfew of her dorm. I hope you can forgive me."
Jim placed his hand over his mouth to hold back the snicker.
The lieutenant exchanged some more courtesies with the dorm supervisor before hanging up. She nonchalantly handed the phone back to the fuming girl.
Judgment stared at her with mixture of shock and betrayal smeared across her face.
"Why!? How could you do that, sensei?" she wailed. "I've helped you so much! That's not fair!"
"Yes, you have, Kuroko. Without you we might not have found the lead. But you're still a middle school student and you should not be out at night."
Jim stretched his neck and smiled at the irony.
Yeah, but it's totally okay to…
"So I can't stay out after curfew but it's perfectly acceptable to enlist me in an ongoing investigation of a serial killer? That's illogical! Sensei, you just think I'm a child and don't trust me! But I'm not some helpless little girl! I'm an Judgment officer, an powerful esper. In fact, I'm a Level-"
Jim wanted to hear the number but Yomikawa cut her off.
"Kuroko, you can be over Level-9,000 for all I care, it doesn't matter. And no, I do trust you. That's why I let you onto the case in the first place. I just don't see why you need to stay out at night."
Yomikawa paused briefly, trying to cushion the next part.
"And yes, at the end of the day you're a thirteen year old girl. I don't need a preteen minor roaming about at night."
"But that's not fair!"
Her hand shot out accusingly and pointed furiously at the Anti-Skill cadet. The wind picked up and this time Jim managed to dodge the metal hair attack, just barely.
"What about him!? He's a minor too, right? Why does he get to stay out but I don't?"
Oh yeah, that's true, Jim thought.
"Jim is seventeen, Kuroko."
"Which is not eighteen! He is under the legal age! Is he also not a minor as well?!"
Jim glanced curiously at Yomikawa. Judgment had a point.
Never mind Bulgaria, Japan didn't seem like a country that allowed this sort of thing. Doesn't he have working rights of some sort? Like a 12-hour day or something?
"A seventeen year old is not considered a minor, at least not when it comes to –"
"What kind of nonsense is that, sensei? Yes it is! Under the Article 4 of the Child Welfare Law of Japan –"
"Kuroko, we're not in Japan."
Ohhhh.
"What do you mean we –"
Then it hit her.
They were in Academy City.
While it was indeed located within the Greater Tokyo Area, Academy City was a sovereign city state with its own legal system and laws.
"According to Article 5, Working Rights section of Acadmey City's Rights of Students Law, sixteen years old is considered the legal working age for a student enrolled in certain selected apprenticeship programs, such as the Anti-Skill cadetship. So Jim has the working rights of an adult. And no, Judgment is not one of those selected programs."
The Judgment officer began foaming at the mouth, struggling to find a good rebuttal.
Jim finally stepped in. He just wanted them get out of here and go to a place – anywhere really – where the wind did not blow her hair into his face.
"Come on Shirai-san, no need to get so mad," he began singing, "the lieutenant is just trying to keep you out of trouble. If she fights your dorm teacher then it might raise a big fuss. You'd get grounded. Then you won't be able to help at all. And tonight is not super important or anything. You'll be much more help tomorrow."
Yomikawa slithered in right alongside him.
"He's right. You're an important asset to the investigation; I don't need you staying up all night to do senseless footwork. That boring stuff is for cadets like Jim. I need you well-rested and ready so that you can step in at the crucial moment to help us apprehend the suspect."
They knew the girl didn't believe a lick of their words. But they had a point.
Finally she sighed dramatically and acquiesced. But she made Yomikawa promise to keep her updated – "every detail!" – on the case.
Kuroko carefully observed the…criminal.
He was a teenager of about sixteen or seventeen years of age. He had a very plain and unassuming face, save for two distinctive features: a low drooping eyelid on his right eye and his crooked nose.
Everything else about him was absolutely nondescript and forgettable. His hair was criminally uninteresting. His eyes had no exotic coloration: just plain, boring brown irises.
Kuroko found it difficult to believe that he was from Europe. If she simply glanced over him in a crowd he could pass vaguely as either a Caucasian or an Asian, depending on the context.
Such a hideous creature!
The drooping eyelid made him appear terribly dull and slow witted. His crooked nose, still fresh with bruises, definitely gave him the look of a common thug.
Even though he was wearing an Anti-Skill uniform, Kuroko just couldn't shake off the ominous, criminal aura that was radiating from him.
"I guess it's not rude to stare at people in Japan?"
"It is. Where are you from…criminal-san, I mean, Jim-san?"
"What's it to you…Judgment-san?"
"I inquire because you don't look like someone from Europe. At least, that's what Yomikawa-sensei told me."
"Hey, that's kinda racist! But yeah, I get that a lot. I'm sort of Central Asian, got some Tatar blood and all. Or Turkish? Or Cossack? I don't know. Anyways, you could say I'm mixed."
Kuroko didn't know enough to question him any further.
Jim looked around the street and scratched his head.
"So, where is your dorm anyways? And why were you so salty about us dropping you off at the front door? Do you just like walking back to your dorm or something?"
"I was not salty! And it's the principal of it! I am not a child who needs to be dropped at home by an adult. I can get back to my residence perfectly fine on my own, thank you very much! All I need is a lift to somewhere nearby."
"Yeah sure, with an Anti-Skill cadet escorting you so that –"
"Hey, that was not my idea! But Yomikawa-sensei was so insistent, I had to relent. Doubtless she felt pity for you. She wanted to delude you with the notion that you were actually wanted, actually needed by the investigation!"
The judgment officer shot him a smirk.
"If anything, you should be grateful! If my dorm was located within the School Garden a filthy male as yourself wouldn't even have the privilege of escorting a high class lady like me!"
School in a garden?
Like…a tree house?
The male scratched his head uncouthly like a true primate.
The Tokiwadai lady sighed loudly at his lack of even the most basic manners. The girl teleported herself to the top of a lamp post to distance herself away from this disgrace, in case any passerby thought they were somehow associated.
In the distance she could see the elegant structure of her dorm residence rising out. She secretly relished the idea of a hot shower and the company of her precious onee-sama.
But when Kuroko turned around she saw him staring wide eyed up at her.
"Hey, you pervert! Stop trying to peek up my skirt!"
"Ah…" he said slowly, "Teleportation. That's your power?"
The Judgment officer flipped her hair dismissively.
"Of course. I'm a Level-4 esper, a proper lady from the prestigious Tokiwadai Middle School. Ever heard of it, criminal scum?"
"Uh…level what?"
Level-4?
Isn't that like…pretty high?
He accepted the fact with tired resignation.
"So…Level-4. Middle school. Teleportation. A teleporting Level-4 esper in middle school..."
"Of course! Oh my, it seems like we have a country yokel here. Never seen a proper lady with such accomplishments before? Have my brilliance made you feel insecure? But it's alright; it's only natural for mere plebeians like you to feel dwarfed by prestigious ladies such as myself!"
He just shook his head sadly.
Damn kids these days…
Kuroko rolled her eyes and teleported away, leaving him alone in the street with only his sad thoughts for company.
"Did she get home?"
"I think so. Although she teleported into the air before we got to the dorm. So I guess she did?"
Yomikawa growled in annoyance before pulling out her own phone to check with the dorm supervisor. Eventually she got a satisfactory reply and turned back to the cadet.
"Back to senseless footwork, ma'am?"
"Yup, let's go."
As they got into the car Jim took a passing swipe at her.
"So, you don't consider me a minor, ma'am?"
She rolled her eyes.
"You have absolutely no chance, Jim. Absolutely none. Still got at least fifteen years of headroom to be a cougar."
It was not what he wanted to ask but he laughed regardless, shaking his head at the thought of it. Perhaps that was an answer in and of itself.
Of course, she knew after all.
She knew.
And really, Jim had no right to play that part. He had surrendered that a long, long time ago.
Ah, spring has come again.
Ah, the waves; the sea and its slow, ebbing caress, comes forwards in its embrace. Whispers, whispers! Only the golden daffodils, blossoms of the fleeting sun, shall understand them. Life shall flow through the land once more. The meadows shall be graced with lasses and maidens, frolicking their days away: thy youth, ah so sweet and loving!
And yet, and yet…
Ah, the winds, the winds! Let them come, let them flow through the trees, through the ravines, to whence they return. The daffodils shake and dance and twirl and rejoice…but only in mockery. The longing shall return, but 'tis a mirage, a fool's jest, for it had never left.
Ah, silence…
The golden sun is silent. Only the walls stand witness to the pleas, the lament! Shall it be another spring of solitude? Nay, nay! It cares not! Shall it be another winter at the Barrow, with only the white death to keep company?
Ah…
I shall sing, yes, once more, I shall sing my sweet lament. Witness. Listen. If all is for naught, perhaps the cold rocks shall listen, shall stand witness in your stead, lest my woe be lost to time's ebbs.
If all is for naught, if all is for naught…
"Hey…"
The cold metallic desk greeted his cheeks as the drop of tear rolled down his face. He laid there for what felt like an eternity, trying to remember his own name.
But it was too late.
The glimpse of truth was already gone. Only the echo of a fleeting life, of a time forgotten, lingered in his heart.
She shook his shoulder gently.
"Jim…"
He slowly wiped his wet face. When he turned to face her she saw a deep sadness lingering in his eyes.
"Are you alright? You were crying."
"Yomikawa…"
"Yes…?" she replied quietly.
"I need to ask you something."
She smiled gently at him.
"Yomikawa…what the fuck did you put in that coffee? Did you actually put drugs in there or something? Are you actually fucking with me?"
Her smile disappeared.
"W-what?"
"Seriously! I'm actually seeing things here, for fuck's sake. I swear, I'm not touching your coffee anymore, or the next thing I know I'll start seeing angels and demons or something."
Yomikawa could only roll her eyes and shake her head resignedly. Meanwhile the cadet stretched his neck and wearily looked over the pile of paperwork on his desk.
"Please get off my desk ma'am, we both know we need to get through this stuff."
They had spent the entirety of Tuesday scouring every convenience store and supermarket the victim could have visited, but no luck. Even with the assistance of Task Force A, there were simply too many potential places to check.
Yomikawa ended up directly phoning the company that produced the seaweed snacks to obtain a list of their clients in Academy City. They explained to her that they simply sold their products wholesale to various distributors in the Tokyo region and that the rest was out of their hands.
Hopeless.
It was already Wednesday morning.
Jim brought a cup of stale coffee – brewed by Yomikawa – to his lips as he began rifling through the sales records again.
Yomikawa slapped his head with a folder.
The cadet paused for a moment, staring out into nothingness. He asked himself some hard questions about his life choices that brought him to this point.
Finally, he turned to the Anti-Skill lieutenant with a wide, sarcastic grin.
"Yes, what is it, madam Anti-Skill Officer Lieutenant Yomikawa-sama –?"
"Enough with that! And by your tone of voice, am I to assume that you're not interested in something trivial like the coroner's report of the fourth victim?"
Jim's eyes lit up.
"No of course not! I'm interested. Thank you, ma'am! Can I please look at that?"
He gave Yomikawa his best puppy eyes as his hands greedily groped the report away. The cadet began devouring its contents.
"Hmm…cut tongue? And only the tip of the tongue…is it –"
"Yes, it's a trademark of Suspect A. At least that's the case for all of the other victims that we've found."
"Something related to lying? Silver tongue? Maybe the moral factor is deception."
Yomikawa watched him go through all of the pictures. His eyes were darting back and forth between text and the grizzly images of the cadaver.
"Alcohol? Drugs?"
"All negative."
Jim mulled over the facts. Then he looked around his desk, to make sure that there weren't anybody within earshot, before looking up at her with an intent gaze.
"Is the coroner, uh…"
She nodded.
"Secular."
Jim bit his cheeks.
"Well, we need someone to check that other stuff, cat pee and all..."
"Anti-Skill's secular, Jim."
"Yeah, yeah, I know."
She pinched her cheek. Yes, a teenage boy in high school was asking her these questions. In a completely straight voice too.
'I'm just a dumb cadet.'
As he went back to the report again Yomikawa looked over his desk. He was assigned to it yesterday. Today it is littered with papers. There were sales records from the store, Anti-Skill reports of the murders, and even news reports.
One particular piece of newspaper caught her attention.
It was hidden between a piece of receipt and a sheet of daily briefing, but she could make out one of the minor headlines. Of course, he didn't outline it or written anything: that would only draw attention. But it was there.
Firefighters investigating warehouse explosion!
Yomikawa glanced at the cadet, whose head was still buried within the report. She quickly and quietly walked back to her office.
A drawer beneath her desk was quickly opened, revealing a jar of Turkish coffee beans, a pack of sugar sachets…
She smiled mischievously.
…and several packets of creamers.
She took a pack and glided back to the cadet. Yomikawa noiselessly ripped open the creamer and, after discreetly pouring some on her finger, stood next to him.
She ran it across his hair.
Jim gave a small, startled jump, shooting her a look.
"What is it, ma'am?!"
"Oh nothing, Jim. I just saw something white on your head."
"What?"
She brought the creamer to her nose and sniffed exaggeratedly. Then she stuck the finger into her mouth. Jim's eyes widened with disgust.
"Ma'am! What are you doing?! That could be…dandruff or something!"
She theatrically rolled her tongue around in her mouth.
"I dunno Jim, I think it tastes more like…"
He narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
She said the next part very slowly and very carefully.
"…flour? Flour dust?"
A muscle in Jim's face twitched.
Never in her entire life have Yomikawa had so much difficulty trying to hold in a snicker. His valiant effort to maintain a poker face was commendable…but absolutely hilarious.
She could see his brain's hamster wheel spinning at the speed of light, desperately trying to figure out just what exactly she was implying.
"No ma'am," he finally said, quite stoically, "I think that is dandruff. You just ate dandruff."
She broke out into a roaring laughter.
She was laughing so loudly, so heinously that some of the Anti-Skill officers in the station looked over to see what was happening. They were rewarded with the sight of their commanding officer clutching her stomach and banging on the desk of the poker-faced cadet.
They smiled and went back to work.
"Ah I see, Jim. Such a shame. I thought it came from a certain warehouse. You should wash your hair more!"
As Jim observed Yomikawa's bright laughing face he considered holding his tongue, but eventually decided against it. There was something he needed to ask.
If she knew, she knew.
If not, then…
Jim needed to confirm.
"Speaking of which ma'am, do you know what happened to the thugs on the bridge? From last Friday?"
"Why? Missing your friends?"
"Just curious, ma'am."
Her laughter subsided and she began tapping her fingers against her coffee mug. Now it was her turn to give the surroundings a quick glance, to check that there was no one near earshot.
Then she began speaking to him in a cold, subdued tone.
"Our…reptilian friends took them. Anti-Skill didn't even get a chance to question them. But that's how it is. They don't care about things like serial killers and murderers, but the moment a foreign actor gets involved..."
Jim tilted his head.
"But…in the interrogation room you said that the team told you they were hit by an assailant. You said that they told you they had a Level-4 esper…"
Yomikawa smiled faintly.
"After you were detained, I had a quick chat with the team before they were hauled off to HQ. With some persuasion, they gave me a quick, brief rundown of their situation. I didn't get the details, just the general idea that they were chasing an important package in Academy City. I send them on their way but unfortunately our friends were waiting at the HQ."
Jim bit his cheek. This meant that Yomikawa might not have learned of the girl's hair color from the capture team…but there was no guarantee.
"Do our friends follow our investigation of Suspect A?"
"Maybe, maybe not. Difficult to tell. But even if they knew, they wouldn't help or care. They are not concerned with things like petty murders or four innocent people dead."
There was a faint edge in her voice.
"And the warehouse…?"
"As for that, yes. They do care about the warehouse, even if nobody was hurt. They locked down the place too, almost immediately. Anti-Skill responded first but they came in soon after and kicked everyone out. That's just how it is; they don't care about murders but they will jump in the moment they catch a whiff of a foreign team. In any case, it's all probably unrelated to the serial killer."
She winked at him.
"Right, Jim?"
His lips twitched but he quickly looked away.
Jim didn't find any relief in her words.
All this meant was that Anti-Skill didn't interrogate the capture team. But Yomikawa did, if only briefly.
Was she was telling the truth about what she knew?
She may very well know of the girl's hair color but chose to keep it a secret from him.
Jim tried to be optimistic.
Let's assume that Yomikawa didn't know about her hair color. Since Jim didn't say anything about it either…there was only one other source her hair color could have been leaked.
The esper girl.
Jim wasn't sure if Judgment was on the bridge. But he knew for sure that the other girl, the laser girl, was. She would have seen the little ashen-haired girl. Briefly, perhaps.
Did either Judgment or laser girl mention her hair color to Anti-Skill?
To Yomikawa?
Yomikawa knew for certain that a girl with white hair was involved in the death of the fourth victim. She had heard it personally from the victim's son. She also suspected that this girl was helping the serial killer.
The question was if she knew that it was the same girl from the bridge…
Jim's nails dug into his arms.
He needed to hide it from Yomikawa.
But most importantly, he needed to hide it from the snakes.
A foreign ops team was trying to capture a high value individual from within Academy City. And this individual was also involved in a series of murders inside the city.
And she was also a magician.
The snakes would gobble her up.
It's one thing to consider hiding the little girl from Anti-Skill.
But the snakes….
Hopeless; it was all hopeless.
Jim's didn't have enough brain cells. All it did was give him a nasty headache. And, as if on cue, his left arm started moaning as well.
Jim clutched his head.
"What now?"
"It's Wednesday, we need to be ready tonight."
"What do you mean, ma'am?"
"The killer always kills two or three days after his last victim. For example the third victim was killed on Friday night. Three days later, on Monday night, the fourth is killed. Which means the killer is going to make his move either tonight or tomorrow night. Damnit, we have officers everywhere on high alert but the city is just too big."
The headache sharpened.
Fuck. I still need to investigate the third victim with the grid coordinates from the warehouse.
Jim gingerly brought the cup to his lips again. The bitter taste of the brackish coffee brought some clarity to his muddled mind, at least momentarily. He sat there for a moment, quietly shifting his feet, and carefully considered his next words.
Test the waters first.
He turned back to the coroner's report with an audible sigh. He began rubbing his forehead, trying to massage his headache.
Then he began speaking quietly in a noticeably defeated tone.
"You're right, ma'am. I guess everyone'll be taking extra shifts to cover tonight."
Yomikawa continued tapping her fingers against her coffee mug. Her eyes glanced quickly at the cadet. She chewed on the little display he was putting up.
"Jim, when was the last time you were home?"
He scoffed.
"The station is my home! I live to serve the people! Long live Anti-Skill –"
"Shut it. I'm serious. When was the last time you went home?"
Jim leaned back into his chair, rubbing his neck. A heavy sigh.
"Well, let's see. I reported for duty on Monday morning, caught the case with you that night. We spent Tuesday with the school victim and looking for the damn seaweed sticks, and now it's Wednesday morning. So I guess…"
Now it was Yomikawa's turn to rub her temple.
"Goddamnit Jim, you've been here three whole days? On duty? Half of it wasn't even your shift! Why didn't you say anything?"
He snickered.
"Well Lieutenant Yomikawa, I didn't want to be a…let's see, what did you say? Ungrateful little shit? Something like that. After all, you're giving me an once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to stop a serial killer and save innocent lives with my own hands! A lowly cadet like myself should be grateful, right?!"
Her glare only made him laugh more.
But he saved the sharpest jab for last.
"It's alright, it's alright. After all, I'm not a minor, right? Unlike Judgment-san I'm a working adult! So it's perfectly fine for a seventeen year old kid to work twelve hour shifts back to back. And go hunting for a serial killer at night…right? He should be grateful that Anti-Skill is giving him so much responsibility!"
The cadet nodded his head dramatically, rubbing his chin.
"Indeed, I'm very grateful. I know how jealous Judgment-san was! I bet she wish she was an Anti-Skill cadet who was working 12 hour shifts back to back!"
Jim wondered if he was pushing it too much. But when he looked up and saw her expression, he knew it was the right spot.
Her venom came spitting out in a fierce, fiery torrent.
"…just, just get out, Jim. Get out! This is Anti-Skill, not your…people. Here, Anti-Skill officers have rights. So go! I don't want fucking Internal Affairs breathing down my neck saying that I abused my cadet. So get your ass up and scram! Get the fuck out of here!"
He raised his eyebrows.
"Are you sure? I mean I don't really want to be sleeping at home when you do catch him…"
"It's fine. Just go home and come back in the afternoon, if you're up for it. Or not. Come in tomorrow! The killer will probably make his move tomorrow night, not tonight. So go! Get out!"
Jim stared blankly at the pile of paperwork on his desk. His mind raked over the options.
While he did need some time off duty to pursue the leads, he also didn't want to miss any new developments. Investigating leads in his own time would mean nothing if Anti-Skill caught the killer first.
His deep train of thought was broken by something else.
Yomikawa gently flicked her finger against his forehead.
He looked up from the papers and saw that the venom was gone from her face. Instead there was a small, weary smile.
She seemed so tired.
He remembered then, he remembered that night at the fourth victim's house. She kept pacing about the living room while her emotions – pain, sadness, anger – bled out into the air.
The image of Yomikawa comforting the girl, the third victim's friend, came back to him. He remembered how the girl calmed at her touch. Her words soothed over the distraught teenager without any hint of insincerity.
And now here she was, sitting on his desk, listening to him poke her and jab her about things she was not responsible for.
He had brought everything upon himself.
Jim felt something bitter and sharp grinding away at the tip of his tongue.
Oh, if only she knew…
"Go home, okay? I don't want you to collapse on me. Alright?"
She patted his head.
"I need you, Jim."
The mongrel shook his head sluggishly, feeling his neck and shoulders cracking under the immeasurable weight.
Come now, he berated himself, since when?
It was the fatigue getting to him. No, it must be the coffee. Yes, it was the coffee. The coffee and the fatigue. All he needed was a sharp jab to his ribs and he'll clear up. He'll shake away this nonsense and the nibbling guilt.
He got up shakily.
"W-well, what if you catch him when I'm off duty? How would I know…?"
She reached for her mobile.
"Jim, do you have a phone?"
"Yes…"
"Here, this is my number. Also give me yours. If there's any new development I'll call you personally. Be ready, alright?"
He stared uncertainly at the piece of paper in his hands. He numbly collected his equipment and made his way to the stairs. He would need to check his equipment out with Tessou before signing off…
For some reason he turned back to take another look at the sad, tired woman sitting on his desk.
She smiled weakly at him.
"Yes, I'll be fine Jim. Just go."
"Ah, finally getting off, Jim-san?"
"Yes, Tessou-senpai."
"Any new developments? Did we catch the killer?"
"I'm afraid not, Tessou-senpai. How was your rest?"
"Oh, it was terrible. I felt so guilty about not being at the station. But you know what they say! An exhausted Anti-Skill officer is a vulnerable one!"
Jim blinked.
What nonsense.
"Anyways, I'm here to turn in my equipment."
"Ah, of course. Do you want to take anything home? The stab vest? Maybe you might happen upon the serial killer by chance! Surely you would need it then, right?"
Jim considered his options very carefully.
He could definitely use the stab vest. Even if it wasn't bullet-resistant, it was still invaluable protection. But it also had an important flaw: hiding the vest would be very awkward.
On the other hand, if he didn't hide it and people saw his vest, then that would be terribly easy to trace everything back to Jim…
But it was the thought of her sitting on his desk that decided it.
"Nah it's alright, Tessou-senpai. I just want to rest."
"Yes, of course. Just let me see…vest, belt, baton, and…flashlight. Yes, everything is in order."
Jim began turning around but she stopped him.
"Jim-san! Your nose! You really need to patch it up. It's all crooked. I see that the blood has dried but if you don't fix it soon it'll be crooked forever! Honestly it's quite ugly, Jim-san, quite hideous in fact. It'll ruin your good looks!"
Jim remembered how she had given him those bright pink band aids with cartoon characters on them. She had told him – quite seriously – that they could somehow magically correct his blob of a disfigured nose.
He smiled whimsically.
"Tessou-senpai, I was born with a crooked nose. I'm pretty sure no amount of bandages or band aids is going to fix it. But I'm fine, thank you for asking."
He savored the delicious guilt eating its way through her face.
"Oh, I didn't know that. I'm sorry. I g-guess I didn't notice it, aha ha…Don't worry! You're still handsome! Your nose is just fine. Um…did your eye…as well?"
"Yes Tessou-senpai, I was born with my eyelids as well. To be exact, the nasty droop in my right eyelid. Are they hideous as well? People say it makes me look stupid. I mean, I am stupid, but does it really make me look stupid as well?"
"No, no, no! I u-um…I think they give you a lot of character! You look very…ah…m-manly! Yes, that's it! You're a very manly young man! Jim-san, you're very handsome, please don't feel bad."
Jim felt bad for teasing her.
"Of course, Tessou-senpai. Thank you for your kind words. I'm off then."
"Yes Jim-san, see you later!"
He walked out of the station only to be suddenly assaulted by the bright sun light. The intensity of it temporarily overwhelmed his eyes, blinding his vision. It was still early in the morning. He simply stood there for a moment, blinking at the sun's intensity, and took stock of his situation.
Knives.
He stretched his neck again.
I need knives.
Lots of knives.
He yawned.
The old shopkeeper cracked his gaunt, bony fingers and flipped the newspaper to a fresh page. He adjusted his reading glasses. Nearby, the sound of old Showa music crackled out from a cassette recorder.
Even though he sat at that window every day of the week, there was still a thick scent of musk in the air. It probably came from the dusty products that lined his shelves; some of the snacks had years' worth of dust.
He was reaching for his cup of tea when a loud voice interrupted him.
"X'cuse me, gramps!"
He looked up slowly, like an old tortoise, at the young man in front of the shop window.
"Is it cool if I ask you something? I really need some help, man."
The first thing that caught his eyes was the small, bright pink bandage on the young man's nose. It was very cute and childish. After he had stared enough at it, he looked over the rest of the boy.
The boy was wearing a long, fashionably oversized pair of basketball jersey. Of course, he did not recognize the team.
There was one of those hip hop rapper hats strategically positioned on his head. The tip of it was slanted diagonally downwards at an angle.
For some reason he was also sporting a pair of large, gaudy sunglasses that covered his eyes completely.
He also noticed that the young man had several bruises on his body, although they were faded and easy to miss.
The boy popped some gum in his mouth and jerked the bicycle's bells.
Ring! Ring! Ring! Ring!
"Yo! Hello?! Earth to Mars? Can you hear me, gramps?"
The old shopkeeper sighed.
Another young whippersnapper.
"Yes, I can hear you. How can this oji-chan help?"
"Yeah, I was wondering if you could hook me up with some of this stuff? A friend gave me some and now I'm like, legit addicted. It's crazy good."
The boy handed him a Nori-stick.
He raised his eyebrows.
"Yes, oji-chan has Nori-sticks. I see that you have very good taste."
"Yeah this stuff is crazy addictive! Can I get a couple? Do you always stock this stuff?"
He smiled as he reached for a large plastic jar nearby and opened the cover. Unlike the other dusty snacks, this jar was clean and immaculate. The old shopkeeper pulled out several Nori-sticks and handed it to him through the window.
"I do, in fact. Back in my day this was very popular. They don't stock these anymore. Nowadays it's all just soulless convenience stores. Oji-chan's place is probably the only store in Academy City that still sells this!"
The old shopkeeper beamed proudly.
"Yo, that's so cool. Gramps is gonna be my new Nori-dealer from now on!"
He laughed at the boy's foreign lingo. The boy handed him some cash and greedily took the snacks.
"BTW, does anyone else buy this stuff? I gotta know if I've got competition. If there's a lot of buyers then I gotta hoard this shit! I'm telling you man, it's like gold!"
The old shopkeeper smiled warmly.
"Yes, there's another girl who comes by regularly. Every Friday night in fact. She always comes and buys Nori-sticks."
The boy's mouth suddenly dropped open with surprise.
"Hey! I know her! She hooked me up! She was the one who showed me this stuff."
The old shopkeeper's eyes flashed with excitement.
"Really? You know her?"
"Yeah, yeah, she's one of my cousins. We actually go to the same school, she's my underclassmen. Here, here, I even got a photo of her! It's in case she ever gets lost and I gotta find her, LOL!"
The boy handed him a school photo of the girl. He instantly recognized her.
"Yes, this is the girl. She's my most loyal customer."
"Ah yeah, I heard she has a friend who's really into the stuff as well. When was the last time she came by?"
"Yes, yes, she says that she always buys it for a friend at school. Well, she came by last Friday night, like usual. She always meets her friend somewhere, I think."
The boy placed his bicycle against the wall. He started unwrapping the Nori-sticks and began chatting aimlessly with the old shopkeeper while wolfing down the seaweed snacks.
"Makes sense, man. Her mother always tells me to look out for her because she wanders around so much. She actually got lost once when she was a kid! Scared the living shit out of us! I'm serious man, her mom legit gives us photos of her at family gatherings in case she ever gets lost and we gotta find her, LOL!"
The boy cracked open another stick.
"By the way, you said that she comes by to buy stuff. Does she pass through on her way back as well? Isn't it like dark at night and shit? If she gets lost again…"
The old shopkeeper laughed heartily.
"Really? I didn't know she was like that as a child. She's always so level-headed and smart. But no, she doesn't really come by after buying the sticks. I think she just goes straight home, so you don't have to worry. I'm sure she can take care of herself, she seems like a smart girl. You know, I used to have a lot of trouble with my own grandchildren as well, back in the day…"
They began chatting and the conversation meandered.
"LOL! I can't believe he actually jumped into the pond! That's insane!"
"It's true! My grandson was always an unruly child, I tell you."
The boy patted his hands and shook off the seaweed dust.
"Well, it's been a blast talking to you, gramps, but a man's got places to be and things to do!"
With that, the boy hopped onto his bicycle. But before he left he shot one last parting query at the old shopkeeper.
"Yo, you said my cousin bought some Nori-sticks from you last Friday, right? Before meeting her friend?"
"Yup, she sure did."
The boy's fingers danced on the bicycle's grips.
"Did she come by afterwards? Like after she met her friend?"
The old shopkeeper scratched his head.
"Now that I think about it, yeah she did. It was unusual. Usually she just goes home I think. But don't worry, I'm sure nothing happened to her. She just talked a bit and went home."
The old shopkeeper felt the boy's gaze staring into him through the dark, impenetrable sunglasses.
"Oh, that's cool. No worries. Did you remember what she talked about?"
"Ah…I do, in fact. She was talking about her friend. She said that they had some problems but she was happy that she could help her friend out. She also asked me to not close the shop because I was the only place that sold the Nori-sticks her friend liked. Imagine that! Such a sweet girl, isn't she?"
The boy smiled brightly.
"Gramps, do you remember which direction she went after talking to you?"
He opened the shop window and pointed down the street.
"I saw her went that way."
"Cool! Thanks a lot. You've been a great help, sir."
"Sure, sure! Say hello to her for me next time you meet her! Tell her that I'll always have Nori-sticks ready for her here!"
The boy's smile widened.
"Of course. And thank you sir, for taking care of her all this time. Your shop really meant a lot to her. I'm very indebted to you."
"Aw shucks, no need to say that, I'm just an oji-chan…"
But he was already gone.
The paragraphs rose from the pages and began dancing a grotesque, ominous little jig. Each line of text unraveled themselves and separated individually into long, slithering snakes. Soon the entire page became a pit of tiny black vipers, all shifting and twisting about in a horrifying tangle of black ink.
Yomikawa stared at the disturbing black mass in front of her.
Did I really put LSD in the coffee?
She extended her collapsible baton and gave herself a few good whacks in the head.
When she turned around she saw that all of the paragraphs of text were back in their rightful places. She rubbed her forehead for the umpteenth time that day.
Yomikawa took another sip of the magical coffee and went back to work.
She had in front of her several large city directories. In fact they were not just any city directories; they were Academy City directories, ranging from 5 to 15 years ago.
Here she was, sitting in her office on a Wednesday afternoon. She was manually looking through each of the listed snacks stores and double checking them against the modern directory to see if they were still in business.
All in the vain hope that she might find a lead.
She knew that all of the modern convenience stores didn't stock the snack.
So she tried looking for the old, obscure snack stores that used to exist 10 or 15 years ago when she was a younger woman. Those stores were usually registered in the old paper directories but not in the digital ones. However she could check this by typing their addresses into Toogle Maps and going through Pathview manually.
If anybody stocked Nori-sticks around here, it would be one of these old, forgotten shops, tucked away in The City's dusty corners.
But trying to find such a place was no easy task.
Eventually after painstaking work she compiled a list of potential snack stores from the old directories. She proceeded to call each phone number individually to see if they were still in business. Most of them came up as dead numbers. The precious few who did answer knew nothing about the snack or the victim.
All dead ends.
She arrived sadly at the end of the list, to the final entry.
It was such an obscure store that she could only find it in a directory from 20 years ago! It was so well hidden that even Pathview couldn't be bothered to cover the area. In fact, it was so old that it didn't even have a phone number!
All Yomikawa had was an address.
She looked tiredly at the map. The location was a bit out of the way for the victim to have visited on her way to the park…but it was possible.
Not very plausible, but possible.
Yomikawa wearily rose from her seat and reached for her vest. As she got up she suddenly became aware of the stinging pain in her nose, courtesy of her own wakeup call.
After deciding that it would be unseemly to be out and about with a red nose, Yomikawa took out one of Tessou's cute band aids and placed it over the spot.
She looked back at the map one last time to double check the coordinate points.
It was a store located in sector DAE-N 4.
The wind brushed past his face gently as he cycled down the road. Although his eyes were kept forwards, in truth he had no idea where he was going. But he didn't care either.
What difference does it make where she was killed?
He probably couldn't find the crime scene on his own anyways. The entire neighborhood was too large.
But really, all that mattered was the fact that he was in the right sector. The coordinates were right.
He remembered the crumbled piece of paper and the phone number written on top of it, but he did not stop. Instead he simply kept cycling forwards.
He was not going to look back.
It was too late for that.
Or at least that's what he always told himself.
Jackpot.
The old shopkeeper shifted uneasily in his seat. The Anti-Skill officer had appeared suddenly, late in the afternoon, and began bombarding him with questions about the Nori-sticks and the girl. He answered all of her questions compliantly.
But no matter how much he asked or questioned her, she would not give him a straight answer about what she needed the information for.
"Is she…in trouble?" he asked worriedly.
"Who?"
"The girl. Why are you asking so much about her? And the Nori-sticks? Why?"
Yomikawa looked at his old wrinkled face. She did not have it in her to tell him the truth, at least not right now. If she had more energy she would have coaxed and courted him more gently, but she didn't have any patience left in her.
Yomikawa was at the end of her rope.
So she lied.
"Um…we're looking for her because she's a person of interest. In a case, that is."
"What?! But why? She's such a sweet girl. She would never do anything illegal. You must have made a mistake, officer!"
Yomikawa grimaced.
"Is she missing? Is that it, officer? Has the girl gotten lost again? Just like her cousin said?"
She narrowed her eyes.
"Who?"
"Her cousin! He came by earlier today as well, asking about Nori-sticks and the girl, just like you. He even showed me the same photo of her as you did! What's going on? Is she in trouble?"
She took out her notebook again. He saw the frenzied excitement in her eyes being replaced by an indomitable coldness.
She frightened him terribly.
"Describe him to me. Tell me everything, every detail about him."
"B-but why? Why do –"
"That 'cousin' you mentioned is a person of interest in the case as well. Please, tell me about him."
"He was…ah…a kid. Probably sixteen? Seventeen? He was wearing one of them…football shirts? Or was it basketball? I don't know. Some type of sports shirt. And he had one of those gangster hat on him. And sunglasses. Big, black sunglasses."
Yomikawa scratched her head wearily. All of his observations were basic disguises. Anyone could change in and out of the costume in a couple minutes. She needed something more concrete.
"Can you describe his physical appearance to me?"
"He was a boy…average height. Not very big or thin. A bit lean. Ah…"
"Hair color? What color was it? Did he have any distinguishing physical characteristics? A limp? A birthmark? Did he talk with a lisp? Was he Japanese or a foreigner?"
The old shopkeeper was taken back by all the questions.
"Um…he had black hair, I think. A limp…? I don't think so. I didn't see a birthmark. I think he was Japanese. He definitely looked Asian, I guess. He talked normally. No lisp."
He shrugged.
The Anti-Skill lieutenant sighed.
This 'cousin' seemed like a generic rapper kid of some sort. Perhaps he really was just a passerby who happened to be the girl's cousin. Maybe he still hadn't received the news about her death.
Yomikawa shook her head and started walking back to the patrol car. She needed to call this discovery in so that the task force could lock down the area. Perhaps they can find the third victim's scene of death.
"Oh! I remember something."
"Yeah?"
"How do I say this…I guess he was restless? Fidgety?"
She turned back to him with a strange expression.
"What do you mean by that?"
"Let's see, I don't know the right words… he was always waving his hands around. Um…he kept snapping his fingers with his…left hand? Always shaking his arms like he was going to dance? Oh, I don't know, I'm an old man, I'm getting on in my years. It's just something I noticed."
It was a vague and unreliable observation. Frankly Yomikawa preferred his description of the boy's clothes compared to this.
Still, she noted the possibility that the 'cousin' had some sort of an attention deficit disorder.
She remembered how a certain Anti-Skill cadet would also constantly fidget as well, although he tried to be subtle about it. But the fact that he tried to hide it made it all the more obvious to Yomikawa.
She threw her head back and laughed.
Just as she reached for the patrol radio she turned back to the shop keeper to ask one last amusing question. It was really just for laughs – so that later she would have something to tease a certain cadet with.
"Say, does he also happen to have a drooping eyelid in his right eye –"
She stopped herself.
Sunglasses.
A suffocating coldness swept over her.
No, no…
Her own heartbeat became deafening.
A coincidence.
It's just a coincidence.
She shook her head quickly to clear her mind of the clouding thoughts.
"Nevermind," she said slowly, "did you spot anything else unusual about him?"
"Unusual?" the old shopkeeper repeated.
"Yes…anything really. Anything out of the ordinary. Anything."
"Hmm…"
The old shopkeeper scratched his head. Then he shrugged.
"Well, I don't know if this is unusual for kids these days…but he had a broken nose. Looked like someone punched him, hard. Crooked actually. His nose was crooked. Got into a fight, most likely. I guess young whippersnappers these days still got guts."
Yomikawa stopped breathing.
"A crooked nose?"
"Yeah. Boy had a bloody and crooked nose. Not fresh though, looked like he got it a couple days ago."
She asked the next question very, very slowly.
"…did he have a band aid on his nose?"
"A band aid? Ah, a bandage you mean."
"Yes…a small bandage."
A wide, serene smile spread across his face. Yomikawa felt his gaze rest squarely on her face. A part of her prayed that the recognition in his eyes was not what she thought it was.
"Yes he did! I remembered it because it was very strange."
"Do you remember what the bandage looked like…?"
She was suddenly afraid of what he would say next.
"Yes! It was a pink bandage. And it had the cute cartoons on it. In fact it looked just like the one you have on your nose, officer."
He slowly spread the map open on the ground.
He saw that the four coordinates of GNA-N 9, PAN-N 5, DAE-N 4, ALO-N 16 were forming into a shape.
He took two knives and traced – with the tip – a straight line from the direction of the first coordinate GNA-N 9 and the fourth coordinate ALO-N 16 until they intersected. The intersection was…
He took out his notebook and looked at the final line of script.
GAwnneuuanne-7
He looked at the intersection on the map again.
He went back to the script and tried to make it work.
GA – wnne – uu – anne – 7
G – W – U – N – 7
GWU-N 7?
He sighed.
So 'wnne' is supposed to stand for W? Did that make sense? He had no idea. There was no way or time to check anyways, not at this point. Another gamble.
Confirmation bias?
Perhaps.
But what choice did he have?
He got up from his knees and packed everything up, checking his rag-tag equipment for the last time.
A dozen of small knives were securely attached to his belt. They were positioned for quick access within hand's reach – both for throwing and general use. However these light kitchen knives had limited throwing range: about twenty meters.
Heavy use was also inadvisable since the blades would simply bend. Thus for melee purposes he relied on a larger, higher quality knife – also a kitchen utensil – he had strapped against his chest beneath his black sweater.
He was wearing thick, sturdy gloves that would not leave any finger prints. This was a basic but absolutely necessary precaution. After all, Anti-Skill will probably be investigating the area afterwards.
For communications he decided to leave his encrypted and personal phones at home; if he was caught with them it would be absolutely incriminating. Instead if he needed to call someone, for example emergency services, he would rely on the burner cellphone he got from on the black-market.
He also managed to get a taser from the black market. Unfortunately for him it was the handheld variety that required him to press it against the target. He did not count on it to be incapacitating…but it would still be a nasty little shock.
Lastly, he had a flashlight.
Of course, he did not expect to use it for actual illumination purposes. He didn't need that, not with his eyes.
Instead he was saving it for something else. It was an old trick that he had learned in the mountains, probably useless here – in a bright city dotted with street lamps – but it still comforted him to have the option. Old dogs and old tricks!
He sighed.
So, in the end it's always just me and some fucking knives.
A dull ache ate its way up his left arm.
Ah, yes.
And you, of course.
He realized that he was still wearing the pink band aid on his nose. It came off quickly. The bloodied piece of plastic disappeared amidst the trash heaps, never to be seen again.
Then he pulled his black sweater closer to his body and readjusted the waist bag. It was filled some basic medical supplies. One last check of the bike: no problems.
All ready.
Jim pulled out of the alleyway and quietly cycled away.
Killer Strikes Again! Victim's Son Narrowly Escapes Death!
She quickly glanced over the rest of the article. It seemed that the boy did indeed survive. The newspaper was quickly folded up again and tossed to the passenger seat. She took a moment.
Her hands slowly stopped shaking.
A heavy weight was lifted from her conscience.
She had found him fast asleep in one of the closets upstairs while she was searching the rooms. She hadn't been looking for anything in particular; it was just a routine check of the premises after both the killer and the girl got away.
Still, it pained her to remember that – upon seeing the small, sleeping figure – the first thing she had thought of doing was to press her chrome Beretta's long suppressor against his little head.
What have I become?
She felt sickened at how natural it had felt during the moment, how emotionless and uncaring she had been. She knew that in another place, another time, she most definitely would have pulled the trigger without a second thought.
She shook her head slowly.
But I didn't.
I didn't do it.
Regardless, a conscience was a luxury that she could not afford right now. She had a mission to accomplish.
She knew that far, far away from Academy City, in a village nestled below the Italian Alps, between the snow peaked mountains and green luscious forests of oak, polar and chestnut trees, there was also another boy waiting for his mother to come home…
And he had been waiting his whole life.
She pulled out her chrome Berretta 92F pistol and checked the chamber. It was locked and loaded. Her hands quickly went over her belt again, checking the magazines, her tactical knife and the flashbangs. Then she put on her baseball cap, sliding her pistol deep under her gardener's jumpsuit – into the shoulder holster underneath.
She looked up and observed the surroundings.
The guests were beginning to arrive in droves. Soon the entire site will be flooded with small gatherings of people clustered together, chatting away in their fancy dresses and tuxedoes, swirling glasses of champagne in their hands.
The van door swung open quietly. The woman looked around one last time. No matter how many times she checked, no matter how certain she was, no matter how prepared she was…
But yes, it was all clear.
Nobody was tailing her.
Malyana pulled the baseball cap further down her face and melted into the crowd.
She tapped her fingers against the steering wheel.
The entire scene was abuzz with activity and commotion. Task Force A had only dispatched a small contingent of officers to sector DAE-N 4 after she made her call. After all, they still needed the rest to be on guard for the killer in case he struck again tonight.
The once narrow and quiet street was now filled with Anti-Skill officers coordinating the search effort and talking to witnesses.
Or in this case, a single witness.
She could still hear his pained sobbing floating out from the old, dusty shop.
He had not taken the news well.
Again, in another place, another time, she would have been sitting there beside him, personally going through it with him. But right now, she did not have the energy or concentration to spare; it was a luxury she could not afford.
But most importantly, she did not have the luxury of playing the good cop right now. She needed to collect her thoughts.
Focus!
Thousands of things were swirling through her mind, each struggling for her attention and focus. But she narrowed her concentration on only one.
It was the boy with the pink band aid on his nose.
She unfolded the map. She plotted the coordinate DAE-N 4 onto it. She realized that the four coordinates were forming into a shape, missing only one point to make it whole.
Using her fingers, she traced a straight line from the first coordinate and the fourth coordinate until they intersected.
If she included the intersection, there would be five points on the map.
She realized what the shape was.
The five points formed a pentagon.
A pentagram.
Of course. It made perfect sense. The killer was a magician and the there had been a magic circle at the fourth victim's house.
She recognized that last sector. If she remembered correctly, it was a park of some sort that had just recently finished construction. It was apparently some type of a big garden: some new, anticipated attraction of Academy City.
She carefully considered her next step. Should she tell the task force about her discovery? Was it a solid lead? Or was it just a blind hunch?
She stared at the faint glow of the sirens dancing across the dashboard.
Perhaps it was a mistake. Yes…a mistake. Surely if she got to the bottom of this by herself she would learn that it was all just a big misunderstanding; a rare coincidence. She had seen much more implausible things in her time. Surely she was jumping to conclusions.
Those band aids aren't that rare.
Then tomorrow he can come in to the station again, with his sarcastic tongue and tired eyes, and they can share a laugh about it over some coffee.
Yes, that must be it.
A misunderstanding.
Yomikawa started up the patrol car.
"Welcome everyone!"
The MC raised his hands dramatically.
"Welcome! Welcome all! Welcome all to Nakao Harumi-sama's lovely 21st birthday party! In celebration of this fateful night, we shall have the world's most famous and popular singers performing! This shall undoubtedly be the most exciting night of the year!"
The slim, handsome MC went on to list the various list of activities and performances on the night's schedule.
A murmur of awe rose from the crowd. Even the socialites were impressed by the star-struck lineup.
"However, all of this is nothing more than petty, unremarkable entrées! The main set-piece tonight will be something that is surely the most marvelous, most fabulous, most wonderful attraction that Academy City has ever seen! That's right folks! It is finally complete! And thanks to Nakao-sama, you shall be the lucky first to experience it!"
The excitement in the air was so tense and vivid that it felt palpable.
The marching band on standby began beating their drums rapidly, building up the rhythm to a climatic apex. Even though the crowd already knew what it was, they couldn't help but shiver with anticipation.
The MC motioned dramatically at a set of curtains behind the stage. They had been placed there strategically to block off vision to the prize. He snapped his fingers with a loud, crisp crack! and the veil came fluttering down with immaculate timing.
The pavilion.
The crow flapped its wings again and glided downwards, effortlessly riding the night's gentle breeze. Once more the bird came around. It glided through the night with faint glowing eyes. It carefully observed and committed to memory every detail: every twist, every false end, every single winding path.
Everything.
No pen nor ink was needed.
Satisfied with the results, it began gaining height once more, for one last survey of the locale. Despite the hedgerow construction of the interior, the outer fences were walled off by those chain-linked structures. They appeared to be scalable but it would be unwise to ignore the roving guardsmen patrolling the perimeter.
The pavilion.
The single, solitary dome in the epicenter was the only logical option. Certainly, he would need space and seclusion in order to perform the sacrifice without being molested. None other sites could provide him with these conditions.
The pavilion it must be.
The crow spread its wings once more, to savor the last taste of the wind, before release came.
Thank you.
The bluish glow faded from the crow's eyes. For the briefest of moments, the poor creature simply dived downwards, overcame with confusion. But presently it regained its stride.
It quickly fled back home, to the large willow tree at the edge of the knoll. It fled back to the safety offered by the hundreds of its brethren congregated on the tree; they were also sheltering there for the night.
And now it was her turn.
Her pupils' glow faded away as she began her old ritual of shaking off the aftereffects of possession. Slowly her presence of mind returned, helped by a deep breath to calm herself and concentrate her mind. And perhaps, most of all, it served to divert her focus away from the gnawing hunger in her stomach and the sharp pain in her ankle.
She sat there, with her eyes closed, simply taking in the night. She allowed the sound of her shallow breathing to wash over her chest: a simple reminder of life within.
The sands of time, flowing ceaselessly onwards, had long since eroded her sense of the present. It had long since all blurred together for her – the long millieum of deaths and rebirths merged into a half-spoken dream.
A dream that she could only wander aimlessly within, without end.
The rough ground met her hand, greeting her with its coarse welcome. The tips of her fingers came away with its gifts of black dust.
Once more, she brought it to her tongue and tasted the earth.
Only the tang of bitter ash, crushed glass and grinded dust filled her mouth. Once more, she nursed her faint disappointment and the phantom longing for an soil that she had long since forgotten.
Tried as she might, she could never remember why or how she came to practice such a ritual. Yet it always calmed her to do so. Perhaps one day, somewhere, she shall remember the earth that she has been seeking for so long. And the past shall reveal itself to her.
Alas, that would not be today.
She repositioned the satchel on her shoulder and checked its contents once more. It was enough, it shall do. She shall make do. She has made do before with less.
And thus up she stood and her small frame emerged from behind the cover of the trash. She glanced over her filthy dress and remembered to whisper a quick, customary spell to mask it with an illusion. It was nothing ornate or lavish: just a simple white blouse and some basic cosmetics to conceal her grim, haggard face.
The little girl with ashen hair began walking towards the reception.
The crowd was very impressed.
The veil dropped to the grass just as an impressive display of fireworks went up in the background, bringing the prize behind the stage to its full glory.
"Allow me the great honor, the tremendous pleasure, the incredible privilege…"
The MC waved his hands dramatically and finally delivered what the crowd was craving.
"…of introducing everyone present to the holder of a new world record! A whopping 40,000 squared meters of magical wonder and artistic creativity! All personally designed and constructed by the famed, renowned, expert craftsman Alan Fischer!"
The MC gestured at the tall, green walls behind him stretching out into the distance.
"Welcome to the world's biggest and Academy City's first ever Garden Maze!"
-x-
First uploaded: 23/3/2021
Last modified: 10/4/2021
Wordcount: 10,836
Changelog
3/8/2021 – edit level references.
10/4/2021 – General edits.
3/4/2021 – General edits.
25/3/2021 – General edits.