Murder Anniversary and the Reverse Memorial

by Mizuki Mizushiro

  Before long Basara was rendered completely immobile. By the time Kyousuke reached him, his eyes were rolled back, and he was unconscious.

  “H-how cruel…”

  “Not really,” Eiri answered nonchalantly. “He deserved it.” Bringing her hand to Kyousuke’s injured cheek, she stroked it slowly. “I’m just glad you were unharmed…really glad.”

  “Eiri—”

  “It’s early yet to be relieved, big sister.” Kagura cut into the conversation. She glanced at Basara—who was still suffering under Renko’s and Ayaka’s repeated kicks, despite having lost consciousness—and continued with a meek expression, “We don’t know what Lady Fuyou will say after hearing about what happened here. At best, exile…at worst, immediate decapitation. I think it’s best to prepare yourself.”

  “…I see.”

  Kyousuke and Eiri kneeled before Fuyou in a guest room in the Akabane mansion. Renko, Ayaka, and Busujima were lined up behind them, while Kagura and Basara were stationed on either side of Fuyou.

  After returning from the Bon dance, Kyousuke and the others had finished treating their wounds, bathed, and were now, a short time later, explaining the circumstances to Lady Fuyou.

  “Not that you ‘can’t kill’ but that you ‘don’t want to kill’… In other words, you no longer desire to become an assassin, and you have no intention of succeeding me in House Akabane—that’s what you want to say, is it, Eiri?”

  “……Y-yes.”

  “Understood.”

  Nodding, Fuyou took a sip of green tea and was silent.

  “Um, Lady Fuyou…would you please pardon my big sister? I know that you had high hopes for her. I also understand your feelings of disappointment. However, well…if she herself has no desire to kill, couldn’t you say it would be futile to force her…?”

  “”

  Fuyou did not give the slightest response.

  “Excuse me!”

  Kagura rose halfway to her feet. Leaning her body off the cushion where she was seated, she peered into her mother’s face. “I’ll work hard to fill my big sister’s shoes! I’ll refine my techniques, surpass my big sister, and become an elite assassin so that you, Lady Fuyou, can relax and leave the rest to me! So…so I’m begging you. Please forgive my big sister! I won’t go so far as to say I wish you wouldn’t disown her. Just please pardon her from corporal punishment or death—”

  “What are you saying?” Fuyou opened her closed eyes. With irises the color of fresh blood, she stared down at Kagura. “There is no need to do anything like that, is there?”

  “…………Huh?” Kagura was bewildered by her mother’s smile.

  Fuyou shifted her gaze to Eiri.

  “I understand, Eiri,” she announced in a tone of voice no different from usual. “If you do not wish to kill people, I won’t make you do it anymore. Nor will I force you to succeed me. You find the thing that you want to do, and live the way you want to live.”

  “…………Huh?!”

  Everyone in the guest room wore an expression of disbelief. For a moment, Eiri remained tense and on edge. It took some time for her to wake from the shock. “U-umm…that is, in other words…what do you mean?” she eventually asked, timidly.

  “Exactly what I said! You don’t have to kill anyone. There also is no need for you to succeed me as head of House Akabane. Having said that, I have no intention of expelling you from the family.”

  “…Eh? No, but…um, Mother? I can’t become an assassin! Doesn’t that mean you should abandon me? A useless defective like me—”

  “Eiri.” Fuyou called her name as if rebuking her. A sigh escaped her lips, which were the same sanguine hue as her eyes. “You are my precious daughter, my own flesh and blood, who I suffered to bring into the world! To abandon you would be… Stop joking around. The Akabane are certainly a family of assassins. We give children born into that lineage a gifted education in the art of murder and raise them such that they will become assassins. However…don’t you think it’s too extreme to say that children who do not become assassins are useless and unneeded?”

  “But…you tried so hard to make me kill, Mother—”

  “Because you wanted to.”

  “Eh?”

  “Eiri, did you not say it yourself? ‘I want to kill, but I can’t kill,’ you said. That’s why I tried everything I could think of to somehow get you to take a life. I enrolled you in Purgatorium Remedial Academy, hoping that you would find some encouragement by spending time with murderers your own age. If you don’t want to kill, I have no intention of pressuring you to do so.”

  “Mother—”

  Eiri was overcome with surprise at Fuyou’s true meaning. The mother who she had thought was wicked had, in reality, only wanted to grant her child’s wish. In that instant, she seemed to have genuinely good intentions. However—

  “…Was putting Kyousuke’s life at stake also part of your plan to help me learn to kill? Would the lives of outsiders mean nothing to you, so long as you could make that happen?”

  “Yes,” Fuyou immediately answered. “Professional assassins, if we believe it to be necessary, will take a life without hesitation.”

  Fuyou’s calm explanation only illustrated her reasoning to be fundamentally out of alignment with polite society. It was not without its own kind of logic, but it was totally out of alignment. Murder, to her, was nothing more than one possible means to an end. Common sense, ordinary morals, and ethics never even entered the equation.

  “But in your case, Kyousuke…in a sense, I can hardly call you a complete outsider. After all, I expect that you may be the one to marry Eiri in the future—and become a member of House Akabane. I did not order them to try to kill you only for the sake of getting Eiri to take a life, you know.”

  “……Eh?”

  Kyousuke’s and Eiri’s pupils shrunk to the size of pinpricks.

  Fuyou held a hand over her mouth and chuckled. “What do you think allowed House Akabane to become such a noted family of assassins? The deadly education that our children receive from the first moment they can understand it? The secret assassination techniques honed to lethal perfection? The method of refining inherited steel handed down through the generations?” She smiled. “No—it’s blood.”

  A thin red line suddenly appeared on Fuyou’s right cheek. Thick blood oozed from the narrow wound. “Our lineage of assassins has been fostered over twenty-nine generations. We partner people with outstanding qualities and eliminate those who show no promise. Depending on the situation, that can mean pairing blood relatives, but through this careful cultivation we breed perfect killers. No matter how many times you strike inferior iron, you can only achieve inferior strength… On the other hand, the blades of the Akabane boast unparalleled edges, forged from meticulously refined high-purity steel. Therein lies the difference between one of our weapons and a mass-produced inferior blade.”

  Fuyou stared pointedly at Busujima. The program at Purgatorium Remedial Academy was designed to recycle a jumble of good and bad murderers into assassins, the very act of mass-producing cheap goods—perhaps she had intended some offense. Busujima, a teacher at the academy, smiled ingratiatingly, as if embarrassed.

  Ignoring the blood running down her cheek, Fuyou continued on. “That’s exactly why…we carefully choose our children’s partners. To ensure that their blood—that their genes—offer something of value to the Akabane clan. They must be free of any impurity. It is essential to be sure of this. That is why we put it to the test. To see whether Kyousuke could survive if my children tried to kill him, you see? If he was the sort of person who could be so easily killed, the Akabane would have no need of him.”

  Kyousuke’s blood ran cold. Though her demeanor suggested that she would not even kill a bug, Fuyou had said the unthinkable.

  “However, you survived…and for now you have passed the trial to become Eiri’s husband. I’m truly delighted. It comes as no surprise, of course, considering that the academy wanted its hand
s on your incredible talents badly enough to frame you for murder—I was correct after all to invite you here. Ho-ho! I extend my warmest welcome to you. Come back as a bridegroom anytime, won’t you, Kyousuke?”

  “Ha…ha-ha…” Kyousuke could only smile stiffly.

  “Wait a minute,” Basara, who had held his tongue up to that point, cut in. He screwed up his bruised face and glared at Kyousuke. “Even if he did survive, it wasn’t because of his own ability, right? When I attacked the boy, he did nothing but allow others to protect him… Accepting him on that basis is a little too rash, I think.” Basara stood, tucking his hands into his sleeves. “In any event, I should test him again right here—”

  “Stand down,” Fuyou chided.

  Instantly, Basara froze. Half-risen, he did not so much as budge. Shallow cuts formed on his forehead and left cheek, beside his right eye and on the tip of his nose. Thin lines of blood trickled down his face.

  Fuyou scolded him in a quiet voice. “I’ve given my approval, Basara. Do not interject.”

  “……S-sorry.”

  “And do not move without my instruction. Understood?”

  “…Yes.”

  Satisfied with his response, Fuyou moved her left ring finger and right middle finger, and Basara crumpled to the floor.

  “My son was rude…but please be at ease. I will not allow meddling from the others. Because on this estate, my blades stretch to every nook and cranny. If there is any suspicious movement, I can sense it, and I can lacerate with but a finger.”

  “Ah…” Kyousuke reflexively looked around the room but couldn’t see anything like that anywhere.

  “It’s useless,” Eiri spoke up. “Mother’s special weapon—the razor wires Shijuukara are as thin as hairs. You won’t notice them unless you search for them from close-up. And yet, they are extraordinarily sharp.”

  “…Seriously?”

  There was no defense against something like that. What cut Fuyou’s cheek earlier and wounded Basara must have been the aforementioned steel threads. It seemed that she could attack entirely at her leisure.

  It was the weapon nicknamed the Crimson Cradle. It was said that, manipulating these invisible blades at will, she could instantly cut her target up into hunks of meat. Living up to her reputation as the head of House Akabane, she was an unparalleled assassin.

  Even Busujima trembled. “…I wouldn’t want to come around here as an enemy.”

  Fuyou smiled gently and picked up her teacup. “Ho-ho. Assassination is, first of all, a matter of stealth, isn’t it? In most cases they notice you as they are dying. Once targeted by an Akabane blade, no one can escape death.”

  Draining her cup of green tea, Fuyou quietly cast her eyes downward, apparently deep in thought as she enjoyed the aroma of the tea leaves. “Even so, my husband tried ten times to outdo me. My husband the bodyguard and I had a bitterly hostile relationship…again and again our meetings turned into conflicts. And before I knew it, he had slain my heart. Ho-ho…”

  …That phrase seems familiar somehow.

  Behind Kyousuke and Eiri, Renko and Ayaka were chatting. “…Could it be the inspiration behind Assassin’s Love?” “Or maybe they just had the same train of thought,” “Like parent like child,” “Like parent like child, yeah. Tee-hee,” and so on, but Fuyou continued her reminiscence without paying them any heed.

  “At first, he stubbornly refused, but he eventually gave in to my persistent attacks—or rather, my enthusiasm, and finally I was able to bring him into the family as an adopted son-in-law. His face and body turned bright red as my expert blades made him into fine sashimi. He was confined to House Akabane—or rather, welcomed into it—his heart slain by my passionate torture—or rather, proposal—which led, of course, to our marriage. My dear Masato was truly the hot-and-cold type, and wouldn’t be so easily tamed! Ho-ho-ho.”

  “…………”

  For nearly an hour after that, Fuyou told them everything about her husband. It was hard to tell exactly what was going on in Fuyou’s mind, but she sounded less like a girl in love and more like a demented stalker. Eiri’s father had tried to (coldly) resist, but his willpower had been sapped away by (heated) violence… It seemed more like assault than courtship.

  Even so, she said, their father couldn’t help but shower affection upon his precious children.

  “About your father, Eiri…he was always worried about you. He said, ‘That one’s too nice.’ He said you probably weren’t the kind of person who could take the life of another. He asked me that, if in the future you wanted to choose a different path—something other than the path of an assassin—to allow it. I couldn’t tell you until now, but that was your father’s last request.”

  “Fwah…huh?” Bored by Fuyou’s reminiscence, Eiri had been yawning. “F-Father’s…last request?” she stammered, looking utterly confused.

  “Yes. Six years ago, the night before he headed out on his last assignment—he was worried about his daughter, who was to become an assassin very soon. I do not understand the reason why you would stifle your true feelings and try to become an assassin anyway. However, Eiri…it was not your father’s only hope that you become a splendid assassin. He would not be disappointed even if you didn’t choose that path. I don’t think he wanted you to seek revenge at all… That’s why, Eiri, there is no need for you to feel guilty toward your father because you cannot kill.”

  “……?!”

  The moment she heard Fuyou’s words, Eiri’s eyes opened wide. She covered her mouth with both hands. Her rust-red eyes quickly blurred, and she hid her face in her hands. “Oh—” The lump in her chest that had been there ever since she had confessed her true feelings to Kagura and Fuyou finally dissolved, and she burst into tears. It was like the breaking of a dam.

  “Big sister…,” Kagura uttered painfully.

  “There, there…” Fuyou smiled bitterly.

  “…Hmph,” Basara snorted.

  Renko sighed, “Kksshh…”

  “Big brother!” Ayaka prodded Kyousuke, who timidly stretched his hand out toward Eiri and gently rubbed her back. An unwitting smile spread across his face.

  Obon: the time when one’s ancestors could return. Eiri’s father was probably also smiling with relief as he looked down upon his daughter.

  “…You’re really all right?”

  It was just past noon, two days after the fray at the Bon dance. Kyousuke and the others stood in front of the main gate of the Akabane estate, preparing for their departure.

  “Yes, Mother,” Eiri answered, nodding forcefully.

  “I see…ho-ho. All right, then. As long as it’s what you’ve decided, Eiri.”

  …Dropping out of Purgatorium Remedial Academy.

  That had been Fuyou’s suggestion upon learning that Eiri had chosen not to be an assassin. Since Fuyou had paid to enroll Eiri at the academy in the first place, it seemed that, unlike the other students, she was free to leave. After all, if there was no need for her to kill people, then there was no need for her to go to a school for murderers.

  And yet, Eiri had refused. She wanted to graduate together with everyone, she had said. Also—

  “There is someone who I want to protect.”

  Eiri’s answer had been clear.

  Her little sister Kagura had strongly opposed the idea. Kagura had spent the time since trying frantically to persuade her older sister otherwise. It seemed as though she’d finally given it up, but…

  “Big sister, please take care of yourself, okay? Not only against injury but colds and illnesses as well… And if that bunch of shitheads does or says anything to you, just let me know. I’ll make every one of them into mincemeat for you! And while I’m at it I’ll make hamburger out of any teacher who raises their hand to you. Speaking of which, the food there is awful, too, isn’t it…? Should we pressure them from the Akabane side and make them change the menu for you? And, and—”

  “You worry too much.”

  “Ow! …That hurt.”
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  Kagura glared bitterly at Eiri, who had hit her on the forehead with a well-placed chop. Ever since they had reconciled, Kagura had dropped her prickly posturing in favor of fawning over Eiri almost nonstop.

  “Tee-hee. She’s a hopeless sister-complex case, that Crappy Kagura. Eww.”

  “I don’t want to hear it from you, Offal Ayaka. Do you want me to gut you right here?”

  “Hey, hey…”

  Kyousuke balked at the girls, who were still spewing venom at each other. Their relationship had not improved a bit since the moment they had met. It seemed that it would still take some time for things between them to mend.

  Kagura glanced at him with half-closed eyes. “Don’t ‘hey, hey’ at me. Pull yourself together.”

  “Eh…me?”

  “Yes, you. My big sister is surprisingly fragile, so it’s up to you to be her support. If she gets hurt, I will never forgive you.”

  “O-oh…”

  Kagura was as severe as always toward Kyousuke.

  “I have not yet deemed you acceptable, after all. Do not let Lady Fuyou’s approval go to your head, understand? If you’re to become my big sister’s husband, you need to be ready for anything. Specifically, you’d better be ready to face death at my hands!”

  “Hey, hey, wait just a second! I never said a single word about becoming her husband—”

  “Are you implying that she’s not good enough for you?” Kagura placed one hand on her iron-ribbed fan.

  “Eh?! No, um, that’s not what I—”

  “That’s right, that’s right! Kyousuke has his heart set on someone named Renko Hikawa! What do you think you’re doing, disregarding the number one contender for his bride—me?!”

  “It’s true! Eiri certainly did earn some points, but she doesn’t compare to Renko. And when it comes to my big brother’s marriage, all decisions go through Ayaka first!”

  “…I, uh, think they should probably go through me first. My mind’s not made up anyway.” Kyousuke scratched his head at Renko and Ayaka’s squawking. “Sorry about all this… You must be pretty annoyed, too, Eiri. I mean, having a guy like me forced on you as a candidate for marriage. Setting aside my own feelings, when I think about yours—”