Takasu spoke first and the men repeated after him, bowing their heads low.
site 28: Aria Kurenaino
Thursday, February 25th
The papers, the TV, and the internet had talked about nothing but the death of Dr. Isayuki Hashigami the whole day. According to the news, last night at around 11:00 PM his body had been found covered in blood on the campus of Seimei University. Several hours ago, witnesses had seen a man fleeing from the scene, and the police were continuing their investigation.
And...
The biggest shock to me...
“His scalp had been torn off.” Dr. Hashigami’s trademark long hair had been ripped from his skull, scalp and all, and taken from the scene.
The talk shows on TV had been spending most of their time on this subject in particular. They’d played footage of Dr. Hashigami while he was still alive, while commentators with solemn expressions traded theories about the killer despite the fact that they had no evidence at all.
The debate on the net was more chaotic, with theories ranging from dark conspiracies to random spree killers. People claiming to be students at Seimei appeared on the boards and traded unverifiable gossip about Dr. Hashigami and his rivalries with other professors. It was like someone had poked a beehive.
Why did people enjoy discussing such vulgar things? Just looking at it all made me want to throw up, especially since Dr. Hashigami’s death was something special to me. In my mind, I wondered if it was “my devil” that had killed Dr. Hashigami.
“The Devil’s Ritual...” But my work at the black magic agency never included killing the target. I’d never told my devil to kill someone. I’d never done anything that would cause the target to die... right? I wasn’t sure, and I shuddered.
How much did I know about my devil? All I ever did was sit in my shop and wait for him to talk to me. I’d never seen for myself what he did, and I’d never looked to see what became of the targets.
I thought back to the day I met my devil. I’d met that cruel, gentle devil as I’d stood at the brink of despair.
Three years ago, the most important person in the world to me had died due to medical malpractice at a hospital. There was no way my mind could handle that. Believing my brother was still alive, I secretly took his body from the hospital room and lived with it for a year. But my relatives had found out and shattered my happy illusion. My brother wasn’t the handsome, gentle man who loved me anymore. He was a stinking, dried-up corpse. And when I’d been forced to face this, I ran.
As the despair tore into me, I found myself wandering through the streets of the neighborhood at night. I couldn’t remember where I’d walked. Everything around me melted into the darkness, and I couldn’t tell where I was. It hurt to breathe. I thought that perhaps I’d lost control of my lungs. I even thought of tearing open a hole in my throat to make it easier to breathe. I wasn’t wearing shoes, so my toes had gone numb from the cold. My socks had torn, and my exposed toes were bleeding. There was no one there to help me. And even if there was, I didn’t want help from anyone but my brother.
—I just wanted to disappear. I wanted to go to where my brother was. That was the only thing I thought. My brother was already gone from this world. I’d killed him twice, and now I’d been forced to confront that. There was no reason for me to live anymore.
Instead, I realized that if I died here, then maybe I could go be with my brother. And when I realized that, I felt a lot better.
So when I heard the sound, I was overjoyed to think that God had granted my request. It was the loud, rhythmic sound of a warning bell. Just listening to it made me feel uneasy.
In the darkness of the night, I could see two red lights flashing. It was a small train crossing. There were no people or cars nearby. On the other side of the lowered guard rails, I could see two sets of tracks. I could hear the sound of a train in the distance.
Instinctively, I put my hand on the guard rail. I told myself that all I had to do was go under it. On the other side, I’d find my brother.
At the time, I’d really felt like I’d been saved. I was excited. I was twitching with joy. My heart felt like it was going to burst. I wanted to shout with excitement.
I can still remember it now. I could see the lights of the train in the distance. I started to hear the sound of the warning bells, the beating of my heart, and the sound of the train on the tracks, all in slow motion.
—It was time to end my life.
But just when I ducked down to go under the bar...
〈You have no right to that yet.〉
The voice felt like it came from a long way away, but it also seemed very close. It was hard to tell where it was coming from, but I suddenly gasped and forgot about going under the guard bar. Instead, I looked back behind me. There was no one there.
“Brother?! Is that you, Brother?!” My voice was drowned out by the roar of the yellow train as it passed by an instant later. But even next to the noisy train I could hear every word the voice said, as if it were directly inside my head.
〈Death is something that’s given to the chosen. And you still ain’t got that right.〉
“It’s you, isn’t it, Brother?! Where are you?! Please, let me see you!” I shouted to make myself heard over the passing train.
〈Nope. I ain’t your brother. So don’t go thinking I am.〉 The voice was a man’s low, unpleasant whisper.
This wasn’t my brother’s voice. My brother’s voice wasn’t ugly like this. The two voices were nothing alike. This voice was something more terrifying. When I realized that, my whole body started to get goosebumps. At some point I’d begun to shake.
The train passed, and the warning bells stopped. The guard bar slowly rose. All that was left was the silence and darkness.
But I couldn’t move a step away. “I’m hearing things again, aren’t I?” That’s what I tried to tell myself. Just like I’d imagined the voice of my brother when he was already a mummy, now I was imagining the voice of a different man, one I’d never met. I was insane, so it was certainly possible.
〈This ain’t a hallucination.〉 The voice wouldn’t let me escape from reality that easily. 〈Don’t try to make me out to be a part of you. I’m my own creature.〉
I was talking with it. The cold wind blew through my hair. It felt like someone was breathing onto the nape of my neck, and I held myself tight.
“Then... you’re...”
In my mind, I repeated to myself what the voice had just said. Death is given to those chosen for it. Then the speaker was—
As someone who knew about black magic, there was one possibility that came to mind. “You’re a devil, aren’t you?”
〈...〉
“You’re a devil, right?”
〈Yeah, that’s right,〉 the voice answered.
“Heheh... heheheh... I knew it. You’re my devil. My own, personal devil...” I realized that this was my punishment for my sins. I wasn’t going to be allowed to die. I wasn’t going to be allowed to see my brother again. This was the fate of an insane little sister who’d defiled her brother’s body. I would be forced to suffer that pain until being chosen gave me the “right” to die, and only then could I see my brother again.
That’s why I had decided not to die. No, more precisely, in that moment, at that crossing, the girl named Ria Minase died at the hands of that devil, and I was reborn as Aria Kurenaino. Ever since then, it had been my devil that kept me alive. He wasn’t my master, nor I his. Perhaps it was better to say that we were only bound by a contract. That’s why we didn’t interact more than necessary.
For the past two years, I’d never even thought about what the devil was doing when it wasn’t with me. Was it possible for “my devil” to actually kill anyone?
I left my home earlier than usual and walked through the rain to the House of Crimson. When I got there, it felt colder than usual, and I was astonished.
I felt a presence.
“You’re here, aren’t you?” I asked,
fearfully.
〈Yup.〉
I hadn’t expected the devil to be waiting for me. That had never happened before. And now of all times, too. Perhaps it had read my mind and realized my doubts. Or had it decided to test me, on a whim? To see whether I was worthy of making a contract with it. If I got a single answer wrong, the devil would show me no mercy.
I took off my coat and started to think about what to do.
〈You know Isayuki Hashigami’s dead?〉
I almost shouted in surprise. I hadn’t expected the devil to bring it up, either. It felt like even if I lied, he’d be able to tell from the way I moved and acted that I wasn’t telling the truth. So I sat down in my usual spot in the shop and decided to tell him the truth.
“Did you do that?”
〈Hmph. That ain’t funny.〉 The demon’s dry chuckle echoed in my mind.
It was enough to make me shiver. “Really?”
〈What, did you think I did it? Did it scare you so much you pissed your pants?〉
“The contract we made said that you wouldn’t kill anyone.”
〈The contract said I wouldn’t tell you what I did.〉
There was no way I could out-argue a devil. I was even afraid I might anger it. This wasn’t someone I could open up to.
I could hear the devil click his tongue in aggravation. 〈Don’t you go freaking out on me. Lately, you’d finally started to get a hold of your damn self. Are you going back to who you used to be? ‘Cause if you piss me off too much—〉 The devil suddenly fell silent.
“What’s wrong?”
There was no answer. Only the silence lingered.
I wondered where he’d went, but I could still sense his presence in the shop. I squeezed Ahriman’s head — that was the doll I was holding — and held my breath.
Suddenly the bulb from the antique light stand exploded with a loud burst.
“Eeyah!” I quickly moved to shield my face with Ahriman. I looked and saw tiny fragments of broken light bulb glass on the floor.
This was the power of “my devil.” This was the first time I’d seen it for myself. All he’d ever done before was talk to me.
For the first time, I saw his power, and the terror was enough that I could barely move. I couldn’t stand up from my chair. Had I gone in too deep? But the devil...
〈I hadn’t done anything to him yet,〉 he said. 〈I was willing to do it, but someone got to him ahead of me. Something doesn’t feel right about all this. If somebody’s trying to set me up... then I have to figure out what I’m going to do about that.〉 The devil’s voice was filled with anger.
His anger wasn’t directed towards me. It was directed at some unseen power that even a devil hadn’t been able to predict. Perhaps the two of us had gotten involved in something very complicated. If I’d known this was going to happen, perhaps I would’ve been more careful when a bloody ball of hair showed up in my mailbox.
〈You’re gonna help me, too. If you refuse, the next thing that explodes is gonna be your head. Got it?〉
I glanced at the shattered light stand, licked my dry lips, and slowly nodded. “I understand. No one can be allowed to find out about your existence, after all.”
You couldn’t trust a devil, but I couldn’t afford to lose my partner. I wasn’t going to let anyone else have him. Until he gave me the death I longed for—
site 29: Toko Sumikaze
Thursday, February 25th
The Mumuu editorial department was a little more on edge than usual. The news had said this morning that Dr. Hashigami had been killed, and our department had gotten several calls. Most of them had been from the media. None of the editors even knew what was really going on with the case. After all, I was his editor, and I still couldn’t believe it had happened.
“Sumikaze!” Takafuji, our editor-in-chief, came over to my desk looking angry. “Did you get in touch with Dr. Hashigami’s family yet?”
“No, not yet...” I’d tried calling several times already, after the first time he’d asked.
I’d worked with the professor for almost a year, but I’d actually only met his family a few times. Almost all of my meetings had been with him alone.
“I guess we can’t show up at his house at a time like this, can we?” The editor-in-chief looked like he wasn’t sure what to do.
I remembered that I’d been there a few times before. I actually didn’t really like going. There were... things... in that house. I had a pretty strong sixth sense, and I was sensitive to that stuff, so I could tell. I’d felt a strong presence in that house, one with an extremely rare strength.
But that didn’t matter right now.
“What are we supposed to tell his family, anyway? Are we supposed to ask what to do with the money we hadn’t paid him yet? That’s way too insensitive.”
“Then maybe while we’re at the wake...”
“The wake isn’t happening yet,” I sighed.
“Oh, that’s right! The wake! Maybe we can talk to his wife then. Or his mom.”
“I’m not sure... That might not be the right time, I think.”
He scratched his head. “Fine. At least find out when the wake is, and when you know, send flowers. We can put off all the details until later.”
“Um, sir...” I ran after him before he could get back to his desk, but then I hesitated a moment before I brought it up. “We’re... canceling his column, right?”
“Did you get this month’s draft already?”
“No, not yet...”
“Then we don’t have a choice, do we? It’s not like we can have a ghost writing for our magazine.”
“The thing is, he’d said he wanted to start writing about a new theme. His first draft was already completed, he said.”
The editor-in-chief shrugged. I couldn’t read his expression. “When was this?”
“Last month.” I could’ve gotten the draft then, but it was too late for regrets now.
“His last work, huh? If that’s true, I want to have it.” But before I could agree, he put his hand on my shoulder. “For now, think up another article for us to run.”
“What?! R-Right now?!”
“Right now! Sorry, but do it!” That was all he said before he left the office. There was no chance to argue with him. He was just going to make me do all the work.
“Ascension,” I went back to my seat and sighed. I wasn’t feeling as shocked as I’d thought I would.
Dr. Hashigami had always been very friendly to me during our meetings, even though I was still a newbie editor. So when I’d heard he’d been killed, my whole mind had gone blank. But there’d been much to do after that, and I found myself going about my business as normal. Would I feel sadder if I went to the funeral and saw the body?
Who could’ve killed him, anyway? Did the police have any idea? Why would anyone want to do it?
“I guess there’s no point in thinking about it.” I decided to start by organizing Dr. Hashigami’s drafts. If I was doing something, it would stop me from thinking about things.
My policy was to always keep things clean. In a room full of messy editors’ desks, mine was the only one that was organized. I kept all of Dr. Hashigami’s columns in a single file. But there were also the notes I’d taken during my meetings with him, and the books he’d given me to read. The books, especially, I would have to return to the family. I wanted to get everything organized now so that I wouldn’t have to rush when I needed them.
Dr. Hashigami was a university professor, and he loved to teach people things. Every time we met so he could give me his draft, he’d also give me a couple of books he’d found interesting. By now, I had almost twenty of the things. I’d been working my way through them, but I was busy with my work as an editor and didn’t have as much time to read as I wanted.
All the books were still in a paper bag under my desk. Professor, I’m sorry... I apologized in my mind as I took them out. It felt like I should read as many of them as I could before I gave them back.
I took them all out of the bag so that I could see what they were.
“Oh...” Mixed in with the pile of books was the notebook I thought I’d lost a month ago.
It was a small B6 notebook, about five by seven inches, with a brown cover. I’d gone for function over form, so it wasn’t especially cute. That was definitely mine. I’d almost given up on finding it. How did it get in here?
I was glad that I’d found it now, I thought. This was the notebook I’d used during many of my meetings with Dr. Hashigami. Perhaps Dr. Hashigami’s soul had done me one last little kindness before heading off into the next world. Or was that inappropriate to think?
I flipped through the pages to see what was inside. Looking back over it now, I could see that it was filled with words I didn’t know. But every word I saw reminded me of what Dr. Hashigami was talking about when I wrote it.
“Huh?” Suddenly my vision blurred. I’d started crying, somehow. Was I finally starting to feel sad?
I took off my glasses and wiped the corner of my eyes. I needed to make sure I went to the wake and the funeral. I needed to say goodbye. And if he did write one last article, I wanted to make sure the world saw it. Of course, I’d need to get his family’s permission.
“Hmm?” As I flipped through the pages, lost in thought, one part caught my attention. It was written in red pen, as opposed to black or blue, and marked “important” as well.
There were three phrases there: “the bottom of the water,” “moonlight,” and “many people.”
“What was this, again?” It was definitely my handwriting. I could vaguely remember writing it. But I couldn’t remember what we were talking about, or what it meant. “Hmm... I’m pretty sure it was sometime recent, too.” Probably last month, when I’d met him.
I tried to remember, but I couldn’t. I could remember everything else in the notebook, but this one critical part had faded from my mind. It was really starting to bother me.
“I should calm down.” Maybe I should go to the convenience store and get a coffee or something.
I closed the notebook and put it on the desk, then sat up. I left the editorial office and headed for the elevators. Just as I pressed the button to go down, a light shock, like static electricity, went through my fingers. And at the same time, images came flooding into my head.
Occultic;Nine Volume 2 Page 2