Human
Chapter 1
"Master… Are you sure this is a good idea?"
"Of course. Our guest finds himself within the web another has spun. He'll need every available resource we offer to succeed in the mystery he has no chance of correctly solving."
"As you say, Master."
In the sleepy town of Inaba, a quietness looms.
The kind of silence one could find in any rural country town.
Every now and again, the noise of the unspoken words is broken by the chime of school, or the laughter of children, or the tenacious warnings of a dog late at night.
For those who have lived in this town all their lives, it is nothing new.
People walk the streets, peruse the shops, browse the shopping mall that had moved in only a year ago, play at the riverbank, fish by the water, attend the yearly festivals, and attend the schooling system set in place by the Ministry of Education.
Life is perfect for those who have been here, and less so for those who were accustomed to city life.
But dare escape, they do not. For one reason or another, those types of people find themselves stuck here. Whether it be their family, work, careers, or just simply having nowhere else to go.
For better or for worse, the deafening silence of Inaba remains so.
But a danger looms amongst the townspeople.
A killer lurks within the streets.
Among the people.
Within the society the country has slowly eroded.
At the same time, a young man arrives. His parents having gone to work overseas, leaving him in the care of a maternal uncle and his young daughter.
Unprepared for life in the country, said life continues as normal. As planned.
On the night prior to his arrival, this young man falls into a deep sleep.
Dreaming a dream of traveling through a dense fog.
One so thick, one could barely see even themselves.
Within a limousine, he was greeted by a woman with sharp, dashing yellow eyes.
Alongside a bizarre long nosed man.
They spoke of a journey that he must undertake,
An unusual destiny that he must fulfill,
And a great danger that looms in the near future.
On the eve of April 12th, a new visitor to Inaba finds himself awakening in the dead of a foggy night in the streets of the sleepy, silent town.
Yellow eyes, white hair, and a young body…
With no memory of how he got there and nothing but a wallet full of yen, a student identification card, and the clothes on his back.
He does not know why he's here.
He does not know where he is.
He does not know what to do.
The only thing he knows is his name.
But his destiny?
To be determined.
His goal?
Uncertain.
Truth is elusive.
And the Truth cannot be written.
For the Truth to be found, the Seekers must be protected.
Danger looms.
And death is certain.
He was still.
And the fog was thick.
His body wracked with exhaustion.
And his jacket wrinkled and swayed with the slight deviation in the wind.
He was face down, prone on the cold pavement below, splayed out as if a murder had taken place. He was silent, eyes closed in the darkness that enshrouded this foggy night. His muscles were sore, as if he had been exerting himself all night long. He groaned, but no one could hear him.
Not within the quiet of the lonely street.
He was alive, if barely.
And moments passed as he lay there, half-dead, in the silent street. He groaned once more, and slowly, he curled his fingers inwards, dragging them on the asphalt below. He winced, feeling a slight twinge of pain as he moved. As if he was exerting himself even further by this simplest of movements.
Then, his eyes slowly opened. Revealing yellow windows that led to the very soul this young man had. He felt groggy, and very much exhausted. Every fiber of his being told him to close his eyes once more, and drift off to a peaceful slumber, followed by the lullaby of the sleeping town. But he ignored this offer, and simply raised his head to meet the darkness that enshrouded him.
Distantly, he could see street lights and dim neon lights that did little to penetrate the thick fog that encompassed the entirety of the street. And with another grunt, he dragged his arms forward in an attempt to steady himself. Pushing against the asphalt below, he staggered upwards. His body screamed against the sudden movement. But he continued anyway against his better judgment.
Looking around, he dusted himself off while glancing hither and thither. He could barely see in front of him, let alone what the nearby signs said. And as he took a step forward and found himself stepping on something thick and weighty. His eyes widened at first, and looked down. Picturing something within the fog, something dark and brown. He bent over, groaning in pain as stooped down to scoop it up. Bringing it to bear, he realized it was a wallet.
He huffed, looking around as he stuffed it in his pocket. "Where… where am I…?" He asked himself, but found no answer. Instead, he found only more silence.
Distantly, a dog barked. But soon after, yelping could be heard followed by a voice that was too distant to be heard effectively.
He shrugged, and looked down. Although the fog was thick, he could make out vaguely what it was he was wearing: A dark blue hoodie with a pair of blue jeans and white sneakers.
He huffed, not knowing how much time has passed since his last moment in the waking world. Reaching behind his head, he pulled the hoodie over his head, hiding his figure as he shambled on forward.
He took several steps, each step echoing within the deafening silence of the night. Passing shutters and telephone poles, neon signs that, upon closer inspection, he could vaguely make out as saying "Closed". Cracks in the sidewalk, bumps in the asphalt, and a lone bike sitting alone, chained to a pole outside one establishment that the young man could not make out the name of.
Not in this fog, anyways.
He groaned and grunted every few steps, each footfall sending searing heat through his muscles, and eventually he stumbled forward, catching himself on a telephone pole. He nearly fell face first into it, and he yelped in sheer surprise as he grabbed onto it, holding on for dear life as he tried to regain his footing.
"Fuck!" He shouted, looking at the pole with dazed eyes. "Fuck… fuck…"
He looked down, realizing now that his legs had given out on him. He tried to stand back up, only to be met with stark resistance from his legs. He reeled, closing his eyes as his breathing got heavier and more labored from the exhaustion he was feeling. After a few more attempts, he finally succeeded in standing back up. Taking a few cautionary steps forward, he found himself satisfied with the balance he found. Then he placed his hands in his pockets.
And vanished within the sleepy night…
The inn was silent as it was sleepy.
Only, distantly, the sounds of running water could be heard from the lobby, with the hot springs right out back being enjoyed by the late night residents of the quiet, quiet inn. They seemed to be having an important conversation that was, behind closed doors, inaudible.
Not that any of the workers wanted to intervene. It was none of their business, after all.
The sound of the television in the lobby played, with a rerun of a show that didn't at all peak the interest of the receptionist at the front desk, who sat idly in her chair, twiddling her thumbs. Clicking her feet together, she cast a tired gaze around the room. Noting the absence of residents and new members of the clientele, and instead she was only met with the silent tick-tocks of the clock in the corner slowly ticking away her last hour.
There were burgundy cushions sitting in the center of the lobby, the kind of cushions one could sit on cross legged. One on each side of a low lying table. Underneath the table one could find a kotatsu, bundled up underneath a moveable trapdoor. Upon the table sat decorative plates, a vase in the center with what looked like white lotuses. Chopsticks and napkins sat atop the plates, awaiting their next guest.
Cushions were arranged around the perimeter of the room, much like the ones that went unused at the table. A television sat on one side, and a window on the other, revealing the dark, foggy night outside. Coupled with a traditionally styled Japanese rug and low hanging decorative baskets over the main room, it looked like a warm, welcoming scenelet for anyone wishing to escape from a dewey, sleepy night.
At the main desk sat a young girl, her jet black hair tied into a ponytail that ended just shy of her shoulders. Leaning forward, her head resting solely on the palm of her free hand, she began to doodle on a thin sheet of paper. Renditions of art born from a bored mind, squiggles that spoke of a young girl who'd rather be doing anything else in the world than manning the front desk of a silent inn.
Clad in a violet yukata, she sighed. Her eyes growing heavy at the sheer boredom she suffered from, and the ticking of the clock only grew to irritate her already exhausted mind further.
For a moment, she faltered. Drifting off, if for but a second. But when she heard the door slide open, she jumped back to the waking world. Letting go of her pen, it freefalled to the floor below, hitting the wooden floor below with a rather ominous plink.
At first, she couldn't see the visitor all that well, for they stood at the entrance rather quietly. Just idling as they stood there. But after a brief delay, they took a step inside, shutting the door behind themselves without saying a word.
The young girl behind the desk just watched as the visitor approached. A young man, clad in a blue jacket and blue jeans, with bright white hair and sharp yellow eyes that pierced through the fog that followed him in. And he in turn looked around the room, whistling a sharp tune that was very unfamiliar to the young girl. He took another step forward, spinning around as he took it all in, and the whistling grew solemn and quiet. After he got his visual fill, and seemingly satisfied with what he saw, he turned his attention to the girl behind the desk.
Who only watched in dead silence as the young man deadpanned at her.
Then? He approached, stopping just short a few feet from the desk.
The young girl, taken aback by the fact that someone was visiting this late at night, shook herself awake for a moment, unsure if she was dreaming or if she was witnessing reality in its strangeness. Rubbing her eyes, the man did not disappear. Instead, he only remained there. Watching. As if he was expecting something.
Then, the young girl jumped, realizing exactly what it was he was expecting.
"Oh! Uhm…" She stammered and stumbled over her words, finding herself at a loss. It was only thirty minutes until she could go home and allow the next shift to take over. A sudden guest, this late at night, was an unexpected turn of events. "Uhm. Well. Greetings!" She suddenly faked a smile, beaming brightly at the individual who stood before her. Although he could see straight through the facade.
"Hello." He responded, simply and quietly.
She blinked, finding his deep, emotionless voice so unusually cold. Cold and vague. Vague and absent. As if he wasn't truly there.
"U-uhm…" She said, before covering her mouth to clear her throat. "I-I am Yukiko Amagi…" She said.
But no response was given. Only a cold, stern stare coupled with a pair of bright yellow eyes staring into hers.
Staring into her soul.
As the seconds of silence dragged on, she tugged on her yukata, finding the situation growing increasingly uncomfortable. After another moment of silence, she found the courage to speak up, finishing her sentence. "...and… this is the…. Amagi… Inn…" She said slowly and quietly, the stare of this stranger unnerving her to no end. "Do you have a reservation…?"
The man simply shook his head, frowning ever so slightly. "No."
Yukiko returned the frown. "Oh. OK…" She said as she slid her notebook over. Opening it and flipping a few pages forward, she sighed in what seemed to be relief. Placing a finger on an empty part of the log, she looked back up at the man. Who stood there patiently, waiting. "Well, lucky for you, we do have a room available for the night…"
"Make it several." The man simply said. "I may be here..." He paused, looking over at the TV. The sounds it made disturbed his thought, as it was playing rather loudly. It's previous show having finished its dramatic retelling, and was now playing a scene of what seemed to be a monster movie. A young girl seemed to be fleeing from something off camera, screaming and hollering and carrying on with easily falsified tears rolling down her cheeks as she found herself cornered by the unseen beast. Yukiko looked over as well, before landing her eyes back on the man. "For a while…" He finished.
Yukiko simply nodded, deciding it best to continue the exchange to keep the awkwardness down to a minimum. She gave a solid "Mmmhmm" as confirmation that she understood. "OK. Well, I'll need a name first. Then we can worry about the expenses…"
"Names are for friends." The young man said, to which Yukiko looked up at him, perturbed by the seriousness by which it was said. He eyed her closely, placing a hand on the desk, and sliding it towards her slowly before retracting it - revealing a rather large wad of yen banknotes that he had retrieved from his pocket. "And so I don't need one."
Yukiko looked at the wad, and then back up at the man, who watched her expectantly. Her gaze lingered, as if surprised that such a young man had found himself with so much yen. There could easily have been enough yen to sustain his stay for at least a month.
"OK…. Well, that's the expenses part…" She stammered, taking hold of the wad and looking back up at the young man. "But I still need a name for my paperwork…Uh… Sir…" She explained, nearly forgetting her manners as she slowly and quietly counted out the banknotes.
"One one thousand, two one thousand, three…" She started, and the man watched. Silent as the grave. Eventually, she looked back up at him, pausing her counting as she realized he was staring now. "Uhm… Sir?"
"If you must have a name…" He relented, sighing as he leaned in on the counter, to which Yukiko responded by retreating back in her chair - A pair of eyes the color of goldenrod staring back into her soul. She could feel something burning within her, and it caused quite an amount of discomfort to rise within her. After a moment of silence, the young man spoke softly.
So no one could hear him but Yukiko.
"You may use 'Wallace'." He told her.
The woman blinked, mouthing the name silently as it echoed within her mind. Then she spoke it aloud, as if questioning the validity of the name. "Wallace…?"
"Yes." Wallace responded.
The two were silent from there after. With Yukiko looking at Wallace, and Wallace looking at Yukiko rather expectantly. The silence was as deafening as it was uncomfortable. It was like a standoff, where one was waiting for the other to make the first move. But neither did. Instead, they just let the silence reign between the two of them.
Eventually, Yukiko, quietly and awkwardly shifted in place, setting the banknotes to the side and pulling her logbook up to view. With a pen in hand, she silently jotted down the name "Wallace".
And even put a question mark next to the name alongside an annotation that said "Weird guy".
"Well." Yukiko started, setting the logbook down. She cast a glance towards the yen banknotes that equaled a number in the hundreds, and she cleared her throat once more in an attempt to battle the awkwardness of this encounter. She reached under the desk, retrieving a set of keys for the young man. "Your room number is 6. It's upstairs, the last door on the left…."
The young man named Wallace took hold of the keys, nearly snatching them from the young woman's grasp. She gasped silently.
"Sleep…. Well…" She murmured, watching him with large, disturbed eyes as he walked away.
But Wallace didn't say anything further.
He simply placed his hands in his pockets.
And whistled a tune familiar only to him.
She watched him go, all the way until he reached the stairs at the other end of the room. There, he stopped. The whistling grew silent, and he looked up, placing a foot on the bottom step before turning back to look over at Yukiko. Their eyes met, and he simply asked.
"Where are we right now?"
Yukiko blinked, tilting her head ever so slightly as the question hung in the air. "Uhm… What… what do you mean?" She asked him, not entirely sure what he was asking.
Wallace spoke again, his voice betraying a slight agitation that was not lost on Yukiko. "Where are we? What town are we in?" He asked once more.
"Oh." Yukiko blinked. "Inaba. We are in… Inaba." She told him, before quickly adding "Are you feeling alright?"
Wallace turned away, nodding as he began to ascend the stairs. "I'm quite alright." He said. Yukiko nodded slowly in turn, watching as the young man moved up the stairs. They creaked under his weight, and almost drowned out the sounds of the TV. Just before he reached the apex, he turned and looked back at her, to which he added quietly.
"Just a little tired."
He awoke within a shrouded mist.
A white fog that encompassed his entire view.
Rising upwards from his slumber, he cast a wary gaze around, and saw nothing.
Nothing but a foggy haze that blinded both his senses and his mind.
At first, he thought he was just groggy.
But when he stepped forward, nearly falling over as the exhaustion took over, he realized it was the fog at play.
It muddled his mind.
Played with his eyes.
And for a moment, he felt a twang of fear rise from within.
Shapes and shadows
Skittered from the corners of his eyes, and when he turned to face them, they were gone.
He jumped, feeling something behind him.
He turned to face it, and it was gone.
Replaced by a small melody.
But it sounded so distant, too distant, to be heard effectively.
It was just a vagueness that further played with his already exhausted mind.
"What the…?" He asked himself, not knowing where he was or what was going on.
No response.
Just, instead, a growing fog that began to enshroud him even further.
A form began to appear, approaching him slowly.
He could hear the sounds of confident footsteps.
And as it gained ground, Wallace stood his.
Voices began to cry out from the mist.
Unfamiliar voices.
First, a young man's.
"Naoto-san!"
Then, a young girl's.
"You're not yourself! Please!"
The shade was standing only mere feet from Wallace now.
And what Wallace saw caused him to reel back in surprise.
Before him stood a man clad in a black suit, with large bulging eyes staring into Wallace's soul, and a bald head with white hair hanging loosely from the sides.
It mixed nicely with the fog, and made him almost seem completely hairless.
He had a long nose, one that protruded far enough from his face that it looked almost as if it could've been used as a weapon.
And a wide, gleeful grin was plastered on his face.
Wallace didn't move, and neither did the man before him.
His hands were clasped behind his back.
And then voices started up again.
A familiar young girl's.
Like that of the receptionist that gave him his room.
"Please! Just calm down! You're under some kind of charm!"
Another voice, this time a much burlier sounding cry.
"Somebody! Talk some sense into her!"
Then a final one.
"Do it then, if you have the guts."
This one?
Wallace recognized it as his own.
Then nothing.
Wallace looked at the long nosed man, and he in turn looked at Wallace.
Stared, more like.
His bulging eyes were unmoving, and even intimidated Wallace to a slight degree.
There they stood, in the silence of the fog.
And soon, the silence was broken.
A loud crack sounded off nearby, and a warm wetness began to form where Wallace's heart should be.
He reached for it, and felt a nasty warmth that covered his hands.
Bringing them up to view, he saw blood.
And lots of it.
He grunted, the pain suddenly hitting him like a train on a railroad track.
It was harsh.
And it was hard.
He tried to cry out as the pain began to overtake his body, but no such luck.
Instead, all that escaped past his lips was a thin gasp.
He fell to his knees, clutching his chest.
A spurt of blood washed over the shoes of the long nosed man, who seemed unphased by what he had just witnessed.
And then he fell backwards, collapsing onto his back.
Blood began to pool around him.
And as his vision began to fade, the long nosed man approached, standing over him with his unsettling smile.
"Heheh…" He laughed.
Wallace's vision began to fade.
And as everything vanished under a veil of darkness…
He simply heard.
"Come what may come… You will serve your purpose…"
Another chuckle.
"This is your purpose…"