June 5th, 2020

It's strange what you think of when you're about to die.

Satoko thinks of the itchy splinter pressing into the small of her back. Maybe it's a protective mechanism, to shield her mind and psyche from the horrors around her, or maybe its just that annoying, pressing and prickling insistently against her back through the cotton fabric of her pink shirt.

Most people wouldn't be able to think of a splinter when a knife is sinking into their arm, again and again and again, with wet squishing noises and spurts of blood and oh Oyashiro-sama so much pain, but Satoko focuses and clenches her teeth around her wrenching cries of agony and still that splinter manages to bother her.

Maybe it's because she doesn't know where else to focus. There's Mi-Shio- there's someone in front of her, all clenched teeth and feral green eyes and a white kimono rapidly becoming soaked with blood (Satoko's blood) and focusing on that makes Satoko want to cry for a variety of reasons, not the least of which that whoever this is, if they aren't a demon, they used to be one of her dearest friends. She can't look at this person, it's frightening and obscene and macabre, their emotions are so wild, so obvious as they play across this person's face that just looking at them is like looking into their soul, but she can't look away, because she is tied to a wooden structure with heavy chains and to look away is to see the dangling body of Kimiyoshi-ojisan, whose feet barely scrape the ground and whose neck is stretched out like that of a plucked chicken. Satoko should know, she's done plenty to prepare them for her and Rika's meals.

Rika…

Satoko fights the urge to cry as she feels the splinter jab insistently at her back. She watched Kimiyoshi-ojisan, and it had not been quick. She can still hear his garbled sounds and the vague shushing of his feet as he scraped them against the ground, trying to find enough traction to push his body up and relieve his weight from the leather collar digging into his throat. She can still remember how he tried to smile at her, shaky and trembling, like he was trying to reassure her, and how utterly terrifying it had been, because to see the terror of looming death lurking inside an adult's eyes, the acceptance thereof, as they tried to reassure a child was the worst thing of all. Kimiyoshi-ojisan knew he'd been about to die, but he still tried to put up a façade to Satoko that it would be alright, that he would somehow be able to help her.

Chilling, and horrible.

And if she looks the other way, she can hear Mi-Shio- she can hear someone in the echoing rocky darkness of the halls beyond, screaming and crying desperately to mix and meld with the mad cackles of her sister- this demon- whatever this person was as she stabbed Satoko's arm over and over again, spraying this underground sanctum with blood. Apologies, endless and lament, like the cries of the sorrowing dead, echoed from those caves, but the person in front of Satoko did not stop, did not slow down.

Satoko recognized this scene. It was like with Satoshi and the old and weak her, the her that had cowered behind him and let him take countless blows as she did nothing but weep and apologize.

"I already knew about my sin…" she gasps into the ringing silence that falls after she nearly slips under and this person slaps her awake. "That Ni-Ni disappeared…because I couldn't stop clinging to him."

Satoko finally begins to cry.

"I was a spoiled brat. Even though Ni-Ni was bearing the brunt of everything, I still kept shoving all the responsibility onto his shoulders!"

"That's interesting." says the person before her that looks like one of her friends but isn't. "You already knew what your crime is."

"I'll show him how much I've matured, though!" Satoko snaps suddenly, ignoring the wet, hot drip of blood from her arm, the slow insistent burn of pain from all the cuts there. "I'll show him that I don't need to hide behind his back anymore! When Ni-Ni comes back, he won't come home to a deadweight!"

The terrible person laughs. "I sure hope he comes back, too!" they cackle.

Satoko shakes her tears away. Tears are weak and useless now, and she doesn't use them any more. "Ni-Ni will definitely come back!" she cries at this person. "I'll wait until he does! I'll apologize to him for relying on him so completely! I won't give up until then! No matter how much it hurts, I won't rely on him, not anymore! Nothing will change if I cry, so I'll endure it! I'll be strong!"

The person's mouth slowly gapes open as they run their tongue along their teeth, before they scowl. "I won't get cocky if I were you, kiddo."

"If stabbing me makes you happy, then do it as much as you want!" Satoko shouts back, clenching her fists and ready for pain. "But hear this: I won't cry!"

The blade comes again, sharp and fast like a thunderbolt, and Satoko shouts louder, her eyes dry.

"I won't cry! I won't cry!"

Sharp, pounding, constant, whittling her lifeforce down to nothing as blood spurts and drips over the wooden bars of the prop and this person's clothes as they shout and snarl and slam the knife into Satoko's arms again and again.

"Ni-Ni, are you watching?" Satoko gasps, her head lolling to the side as her own blood drips stickily down her face. "See how much stronger Satoko has become. No matter what happens, I won't give up!"

The stabbings become sharp, frenetic, nearly frantic, as there is a strange, flickering gleam in this person's eyes. They weren't prepared for this. This isn't something they can deal with. They want her to stop. They want her to shut up. They want her to cry and scream like the weak fool she used to be. Then that person can deal with this, but Satoko stonewalling them, refusing to make a peep as the knife slid into the flesh of her arm again and again, this person can't deal with that. They are weak, they are the ones relying on someone else now. Satoko's not like that anymore.

"Something like this can't make me cry. It can't make me cry." Satoko repeated. The splinter prickled her back as this person roared and swung the knife up, the gleaming blade heading straight for Satoko's face. "IT WON'T!"

A sick, fleshy thud echoes in the underground chamber, as the blade of the knife slams home, right through Satoko's forehead.

And even in death, she doesn't cry.

11.25 AM, USA Central Time