Murder Anniversary and the Reverse Memorial

by Mizuki Mizushiro

  “Huh?! What the heck, that’s scary…” Taken aback, Ayaka leaned away in fear.

  “Kksshh.” Renko laughed. “Don’t worry, little Ayaka. Eiri can’t kill. Just like you and Kyousuke, she hasn’t killed anyone at all. Though publicly she pretends to have killed six people.”

  “Whaa?! I-is that really true…?” Ayaka took a long hard look at Eiri. “The same as us…?” she mumbled, puffing out her cheeks. “And I went to all that trouble to keep up…!”

  Eiri shrugged her shoulders slightly. “Anyway…that’s how it is. While I’m back home during the summer break, I can’t attend the supplementary lessons. Oh, and there’s one more thing—”

  Abruptly, Eiri’s tone of voice changed. Her rust-red eyes, sharp as knives, pierced straight through Kyousuke.

  “I’m not the only one. Someone else has been summoned…Kyousuke. They called for you.”

  Bloodstained Cage

  BLOODSTAINED CAGE

  ACT ONE

  Summer break at Purgatorium Remedial Academy lasted one week, from the twelfth of August to the nineteenth, and, because the tenth and eleventh happened to fall on a weekend, it meant nine consecutive days of vacation.

  After finishing classes on Friday, Kyousuke and the others spent Saturday and Sunday at the academy, then departed early on Monday morning. They were shuttled to the edge of the island by police van, where they departed on a long boat ride. After more than half a day of being rocked by the waves on a small ferry, they arrived on the Japanese mainland, where they stopped for one night before setting out again in another police van. Inside the vehicle—

  “……Fwah.”

  Eiri yawned. How many times was that? Kyousuke thought it had to be nearing a hundred. Ever since they had left the academy, Eiri had seemed terribly depressed.

  “Is the thought of going home really that bad?”

  “It’s awful. Once you see, you’ll understand… I’d rather die.” She leaned limply back against her seat. “…It’s really the worst. For many reasons.”

  “Many reasons?”

  “Yeah. Just returning home is bad enough, but now I’ve got extra baggage with me.”

  “E-extra baggage meaning…?”

  “How cruel! We only came along because you were so anxious, Eiri! Kksshh!”

  “That’s right, you’re cruel! We even canceled our plans to come with you!! You should be thanking us, you know! Are you the hot-and-cold type?”

  Renko and Ayaka objected loudly. They should have been chattering and laughing away on their dates but now sat across from Eiri and Kyousuke, facing them.

  Eiri sighed and held her forehead. “Say what you like, you forced yourselves on us because you didn’t want me and Kyousuke to be alone together, didn’t you? You two are totally transparent.”

  “Ah…did my facial expression give it away?”

  “Come on,” Eiri moaned. “Get a grip, Miss Renko. The secret’s out, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, we can’t even see your face because of the gas mask.”

  —You tell her, little sister.

  Truthfully, Kyousuke felt that, ever since the “incident,” Ayaka had emotionally attached herself to Renko way too much.

  For instance: Despite their extremely abnormal destination—an assassins’ house—Renko and Ayaka were visibly excited and noisily enthusiastic. They had both decided to use their time on parole to come along to Eiri’s house, even though they had not been invited.

  Kyousuke, wanting to keep Ayaka out of danger, had firmly objected, but…

  “Are you going to leave Ayaka behind, big brother?”

  With his little sister looking up at him all teary eyed, Kyousuke’s resolve had crumbled. And besides—

  “Everyone, we will arrive in another two or three hours! We’ll stop at a convenience store once before then. Please inform me of any requests for lunch.”

  A man addressed them from the driver’s seat, speaking through heavy iron bars. It was the homeroom teacher for the first-year Class B at Purgatorium Remedial Academy, Kirito Busujima, in the role of probation officer.

  Kyousuke thought they could probably relax a little bit with him accompanying them, since he was a poison specialist and elite professional killer, just like Kurumiya.

  “—Convenience store!” Ayaka’s eyes sparkled when she heard Busujima’s remark. “Finally we’re free from that disgusting garbage food?!”

  Yesterday’s lunch and dinner and today’s breakfast had been “garbage bentos” (well past the expiration date). For Kyousuke and the others, who had gone so long without normal, decent food, even convenience store lunches would be a treat.

  The inside of the car suddenly became animated, as one by one they voiced their orders.

  “I’m good with a salted-kalbi bento!”

  “I want the most expensive bento!”

  “I want something that’ll charge me up in ten seconds and keep me going for two hours!”

  “…Isn’t that what you usually have?”

  “Hm? True. Okay, I’ll have melon bread!”

  “You can’t eat it, though.”

  “Kksshh…”

  “Mr. Kamiya will have a kalbi bento, Miss Kamiya will have the most expensive bento, Miss Hikawa will have a jelly drink—is that right? Understood. And what will Miss Akabane have?”

  “I don’t care. Anything’s fine.”

  “Is that so? In that case, I’ll choose based on my good taste.”

  “M-Mr. Busujima’s good taste…”

  Ayaka looked at Busujima with a doubtful expression.

  Busujima was not wearing his usual rumpled suit but was in plain clothes—a gaudy-colored Hawaiian shirt, a pair of sunglasses, and a straw hat on his head.

  “What about my good taste?” Noticing Ayaka’s stare, Busujima sounded puzzled. “Ah…perhaps the clothes that I picked out for you are not really to your liking?”

  “…Mm.” Ayaka was at a loss for a reply. She was wearing a dress with a floral pattern on a light purple background underneath a gauzy white cardigan, alongside caramel-colored gladiator sandals. “Honestly, it’s not that I don’t like it…but—”

  “The fact that they’re not bad is exactly what makes it so gross.” Eiri nonchalantly finished the thought that Ayaka had hesitated to speak aloud. “…I mean, what is this? Some new form of sexual harassment?” She frowned, tugging on a sleeve of her own outfit. Like Ayaka, she wore plain clothes—a T-shirt that exposed her shoulders and micromini hot pants.

  “Ahm…” Busujima stroked his stubbled chin. “Y-you’ve got it all wrong! It’s nothing like that. It’s just that you’ve got such beautiful legs, Miss Akabane! Wouldn’t you agree that this ensemble highlights that wonderful feature? And, since your lower body is largely exposed, I had to pick a top that also exposes much of your upper body! For balance! A-and because Miss Kamiya’s name contains the character for flower, I incorporated a floral motif—”

  “Gross.”

  Eiri and Ayaka spoke as one.

  “Gross?!” Busujima looked shocked.

  The two girls glared at him. “Why are you thinking about it that much?! Gross… You’re an ugly old geezer. I mean, what the hell?! Do you think you’re some kind of stylist now? And yet your usual suit is so shabby…it’s gross!”

  “It gives me chills to imagine the scene: you staring at a catalog, daydreaming about clothes that would suit us, gross… Mine and Eiri’s clothes are even exactly the right size, which is even more gross. And then you took picking them out so seriously—grossest!”

  “Ehhhhh…” Busujima looked as if he was going to cry as the girls called him “gross, gross, gross” over and over, an expression that made him look even more disgusting. “S-surely there’s no need to say such cruel things? How heartless, and after I spent a whole day just thinking about it… And the clothes do suit you, so what’s wrong with that? Girls should be cute and pretty! You agree with me, Mr. Kamiya, don’t you?”

  “Eh? Ah, well…�
� Kyousuke looked embarrassed by the subject at hand. His outfit, a simple polo shirt and jeans, was notably plain compared to the girls’ clothes. It was obvious that Busujima had chosen Kyousuke’s ensemble without much thought. “That’s right. I think you did a good job, Mr. Busujima!”

  “…Kyousuke?”

  “…Big brother?”

  He met the girls’ angry glares and answered calmly. “I mean, I think your clothes really are nice! Eiri’s incredibly beautiful, and Ayaka looks very cute. The clothes suit you both very well. It’s a feast for the eyes.”

  Instantly, both of their cheeks flushed red.

  “Wha…? B-beautiful, are you stupid? Don’t leer at me, pervert! You’re gross! What the hell are you saying?!” Eiri looked flustered and futilely tried to cover her wide swaths of exposed skin.

  “Tee-hee-hee! Thanks, big brother! Now that you’ve said that, all the unpleasant feelings have scattered away!” Ayaka’s smile filled her whole face.

  “…Those reactions are totally unlike what you showed me. I’m used to it, though.” Muttering thusly, Busujima gloomily returned his attention to the road.

  “Hey, hey, heeey!” Just then, Renko, who had been waiting and watching, perked up. “Question, question! How about my clothes, Kyousuke?”

  “Hm? Ah—”

  Asked, he turned his gaze on Renko.

  Renko wore her own clothes; unlike everyone else, she was not wearing a Busujima ensemble. Instead, she wore a simple tank top, a pair of distressed jeans, and a hooded sweatshirt tied around her waist. But thanks to the tightly packed tribal tattoos on both of her arms, her leather choker, and her overly abundant breasts, Renko still made quite the impression.

  “Right. Well, it’s…fine?”

  “Is that all?”

  “Uh…”

  “……”

  Renko dropped her runway pose. She sat down without a word and pulled at Ayaka’s hem. “Hey, hey. Kyousuke’s being unkind.”

  “Y-you’re right. What’s the matter, big brother?”

  Kyousuke could feel her gaze on his averted face, but he stubbornly ignored it. A particular thought filled his mind.

  Ah, shit… It’s no good—I can’t think like that. Why me…?

  He ground his teeth as he recalled a certain incident that had taken place at the school just a few days ago.

  Jealous of Renko and certain other female students, Ayaka had stolen something from a staff room, something she had been expected—even encouraged—to take, and with the stolen shotgun, she had tried to kill those girls.

  Renko had been the one to stop her rampage, and now Ayaka had taken a liking to her and was trying very hard to move her relationship with Kyousuke forward.

  That much was fine. It was great, but— How come when I look at her, I…? Why do I get so worked up?

  Ever since then, something had changed in the way Kyousuke felt about Renko. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was, exactly, nor could he put it out of his mind. Her words, actions, behaviors, appearance—everything about Renko caught his eye and made him restless. It didn’t feel good—or rather, it felt bad but kind of good at the same time. He couldn’t make sense of his feelings toward her, and yet—

  If I fall for her, she’ll kill me. Get it together, Kyousuke Kamiya!

  In truth, he was beginning to suspect it. He had an inkling that he was really starting to fall in love with the stone-cold killing machine, the Murder Maid—Renko Hikawa.

  Desperate to deny his feelings any way he could, Kyousuke slapped his own cheek.

  “We’ve arrived, everyone. Please exit the vehicle.”

  After a convenience store stop along the way, the drive had continued for a little over two hours. With an exaggerated clank, the rear door of the prison transport van opened. Bright sunlight came streaming in, along with the cries of cicadas and a rustling sound like the roar of the sea.

  “Yaaay, the outside!”

  “The sweet, sweet air of freedom!”

  Kyousuke followed Ayaka and Renko, who had gone flying out as soon as the door had opened. A gentle, refreshing breeze cooled his flushed skin. As he stretched, the young man looked up at the summer sky above him and the bamboo leaves shining in the sunlight.

  “Where is this place…?” The windows of the prison van were heavily tinted and barred, so he wasn’t sure which way they had been going or where they were now. “…Mountains?”

  As he surveyed their surroundings, one thing in particular immediately caught Kyousuke’s eye.

  “What is that?”

  “It looks like a shrine gate, but…”

  “It’s awfully…big.”

  Stepping up beside Renko and Ayaka, who stood upright, Kyousuke peered at the strange structure. In the middle of a dense bamboo thicket was a gate with a tiled roof. At least thirty feet tall, it seemed to loom over them oddly.

  The double doors of the gate were made of wood, and small ornaments decorated the metal fixtures. The accumulated rust and patches of moss, as well as the blotches of dirt that covered the thing, seemed to convey a deep sense of history.

  The whole thing was entirely crimson.

  The tiles affixed to the roof, the metal fixtures with their delicate designs, and the time-worn doors were all painted the same shade of red. It was as if they had all been swabbed with fresh blood… Kyousuke and the others stood staring, at a loss for words.

  “…Hmph.” Behind them, Eiri spoke up. “The gate is tacky as always.”

  “Hey, Eiri. Is this…your house?” Kyousuke inquired, scarcely able to believe his own eyes.

  “…Unfortunately. There’s no nameplate, though. See, that’s my family crest.”

  Eiri was pointing at the round ornaments that hung on each of the doors. The crest featured a single bird with its wings folded, sharpening its individual feathers like knives.

  “Amazing, that’s amazing! You’re the daughter of a high-class family, aren’t you, Eiri?!”

  “What does it look like on the inside?! It can’t be an ordinary house!”

  Renko and Ayaka shouted with joy at Eiri’s nonchalant explanation.

  “…Not really. It’s nothing special.”

  “Kksshh. You’re being modest, yet again.”

  “Yet again. Isn’t your bustline modest enough for the rest of you?”

  “Come on, shut up!” Eiri was already fed up.

  Busujima approached the excited girls and took off his sunglasses to hang them on the collar of his shirt. “Wow, what a splendid main gate this is…and just how should we go in?” He turned his head, surveying the area.

  The doors were closed tight, flanked by a high stone wall, from which a bamboo thicket stretched limitlessly into the distance. There was nothing like an intercom to be found.

  “Eiri, do you know?”

  “…Tch.” Eiri clicked her tongue. “It should open on its own before too long. At any rate, we were noticed long ago… They’ll usher us in eventually. Be quiet and wait. There’s no need to make a fuss.” She glared at Busujima.

  “Ah.” Busujima winced. “Why are you so snappy?! Err…that is to say, you really ought to speak with deference toward your teachers, even after this long. Though, come to think of it, you always show Miss Kurumiya plenty of respect… Could this be discrimination? Is it bullying? I may be generous, but I’m not a masochist, so if you get too carried away, my discipline—”

  Creeeaaak…

  As Busujima protested injustice, the double doors swung inward with a loud groan. The group stiffened at once and stared at the gate as it opened.

  The first thing they noticed was a paved stone path. Stretching up a gently sloping hill was an unbelievably long set of stairs leading to the house grounds. Rich greenery surrounded it on either side.

  And—

  A long line of bright red people.

  “……?!”

  Kyousuke and the others—and even Eiri—gasped.

  Several dozen men and women of all ages stood in
rows, on both sides of the stairway, clad in crimson Japanese clothes, apparently come to greet the visitors. Every single one of them bowed wordlessly.

  …Silence.

  Kyousuke and the others looked on, petrified.

  “Welcome.”

  Suddenly, from out of the shadow of the gate, a pure white Noh mask appeared.

  “Kyah?!” “Hyah?!” “Whaaa?!”

  Ayaka and Renko leaped up in surprise, and even Kyousuke jumped.

  A lone woman stood at the entrance to the grounds, her face covered by a mask. She wore a reddish-brown samue tunic, the exact color of dried blood.

  “Welcome to the Akabane household,” the woman greeted all of them in an enigmatic and emotionless voice.

  When Kyousuke and the others did not respond, Eiri clicked her tongue—“…Tch”—in place of a reply. Hoisting her bag onto her shoulder, she passed through the gate and spoke bluntly, as if uncomfortable. “…Don’t bother with the irritating reception. Let’s hurry up and get to the house.”

  The woman held her hands clasped in front of her body. Her head was bowed respectfully. “Understood. Welcome home, Lady Eiri.”

  “Yeah, yeah, here I am.” Acting like the woman’s greeting was a supreme annoyance, Eiri looked back over her shoulder. “What are you all still standing around for?”

  “…O-oh.”

  Hurried along, the group passed timidly through the gate into the Akabane manor.

  “Excuse the intrusiooon…”

  “P-pardon uuus…”

  “Here we coooooome!”

  “Miss Hikawa, please don’t cause a commotion.”

  “…Hmph.”

  Snorting, Eiri looked ahead again. The woman had moved in front of the stairs and extended her hand toward Kyousuke and the others, as if in invitation.

  “This way, please.”

  The people lined up on both sides of the stairs had never, not a single person, raised their heads since the newcomers had appeared. They did not open their mouths. They did not move even slightly. There was no change, even when the woman set foot on the steps and Kyousuke and the others followed after her.