#light shadow and reflection ka question answer

[rashmislearningplanet]

Light, Shadows and Reflection | Class 6 : SCIENCE | CBSE / NCERT | Light, Shadows and Reflection

[thisisthehardestthing]

тоска, 18+ Tanaka x Reader, 2.2

Written for The Smut Pile Server Collab: Mafia AU | MASTERLIST HERE.

тоска tus-ka: Russian, noun It is a dull ache of the soul, a sick pining, a vague restlessness, mental throes, yearning. In particular cases, it may be the desire for somebody or something specific, nostalgia, lovesickness.

Russian Mafia AU: Tanaka Ryu x A Reader OC Rating: E for explicit Warnings: Violence, Blood, Death, Masturbation, Oral sex, Public Sex, Grinding, Cheating, Denied Orgasm, Manipulation, YEARNING Word count: 9,328 Part 1 | Part 2

GLOSSARY

Enjoy the final part of this two part hell.

Special thanks to: @joyousandverywarlike for being my ride-or-die,  @pleasantanathema , @present-mel and @linestrider for hosting this collab, and everyone in the server for being amazing friends. I would not have been able to write this without any of you, and I truly mean that. @the-smut-pile​

2.2

6. Tanaka

Daichi, Sergei, Ryunoslav and Yuuri sit in the wooden banya, white towels wrapped around their waists as they sweat and speak about the Georgian trip. It smells of cedar, rich and woody, and sweat. Like men.

“Boss Vashadze is unwell,” Daichi muses, knees spread wide as he relaxes against the hot walls, facing the glass door. “It won’t be long until he retires.”

Tanaka sits perpendicular to him, on a lower step with one foot perched up and his leg bent. Yuuri is opposite Tanaka, and Sergei stands, lightly smacking his back with a Venik, the scent of eucalyptus and birch dispersing through the air with each tap against his skin.

“That is good for you, bad for connections,” Sergei says, “how is business there?”

He always talked numbers first, pleasure second. Yuuri laughs, reaching for the besom of herbs from Sergei’s hold to lash his legs.

“Fine. I am gaining more of a footing around the ministers... However it will still take some time before they trust me. There are rumors of a new political party rising. We have to keep an eye open for unrest in Eastern Europe.”

“Ukraine?” Sergei asks, rubbing some of the leaves that stuck to his arms into his skin.

Daichi nods, then his eyes slide sideways to peer at Tanaka. His shaved hair has grown out slightly, which will be trimmed tonight, and he picks at his toenail of the foot bent beneath him.

“We can discuss strategy after we eat. How was your weekend, Ryunoslav?” The Bulldog asks, eyebrows raised.

Tanaka lifts his head casually with a simple smile.

“Just what I needed, spasiba Boss.”

Daichi’s laugh booms in the sauna, and Yuuri joins in, slapping the wood next to his thigh.

“Tell us more, Ryu! When I saw the first prostitute leave after thirty minutes, I thought it was over. But then, when I saw a second one arrive at midnight, I thought you must’ve not enjoyed the first.”

Tanaka frowns, looking at Yuuri in confusion before realising who he meant. He had seen Valentina arrive late at night, although he didn’t recognise her, or so he hopes.

“She was banging on the door very loudly, woke me up. Tell me, was it the same one from before wanting a second round?”

With a glance to Daichi, who is scanning his every expression,Tanaka shrugs.

“It was the same whore. I must be very good in bed.”

All the men burst out in laughter, but Tanaka laughs the loudest in compensation. Daichi closes his eyes as he tilts his head back.

“Well, she stayed for a long time. I only saw her leave past five am.”

“Yuuri, are you stalking Ryunoslav?” Sergei questions, using the water the Venik was soaking in to rinse off his body, the liquid sizzling as it hits the warm floor by his feet.

“No, I just found it interesting that Ryunoslav will fuck someone twice in a single night when there’s only been one woman he’s ever wan-”

“Yuuri.” Tanaka growls, cutting off his closest friend who has had too much vodka before entering the sauna. The heat and alcohol is loosening his tongue too quickly. Daichi sits up at this news, leaning forward so that muscle bulge and inflate.

“Oh? Is this true? Who is this woman?”

Tanaka waves his hand dismissively as he glares at Yuuri, “I met her years ago, when I first started working for you, Boss. No one of importance now.”

“Surely she still means something if you don’t want Yuuri to talk about her.” Sergei chimes in, climbing past their heads to sit on the top bench next to Daichi. Tanaka avoids his gaze, but can feel the Bulldog sniffing at the faint nerves that climb up Tanaka’s spine, his ears blushing red from the heat. He feels closed in, backed into a corner.

“It is an unrequited love, so please, I would prefer not to speak about it anymore.”

The men all murmur in understanding, except for Yuuri, who says, “I will just have to get you drunk to tell us about her then.”

7 - Valentina

Daichi sits across from you in the chartered jet, the beige leather seats muted even further with the deep rumble of the engine and the third glass of champagne in your veins. He’s reading a newspaper, you’re staring out at the cotton-peach clouds as they pass by. To your left, Sergei Sugawarov scribbles in books filled with numbers, the taptaptap of the calculator permeating the heavy air.

“Refill, Mrs. Sawamurova?” the air hostess asks, her smile wide as she holds the Moët & Chandon bottle in her manicured hands. She’s trembling slightly, and you smile reassuringly.

“Leave the bottle, thank you,” your heavy Russian accent drips from your tongue as you answer in English, and the bottle is placed in a silver ice bucket on the birchwood table between you and Daichi.

Two hours have passed during the five hour flight from Ufa Airport to Côte d'Azur Airport, and you pour another glass for yourself as you watch Daichi turn a page. He glances up at you with a small smile, but his eyes are hard. Something happened while he was in Georgia with your father. With a small smile of your own, you turn your gaze back to the window, leaving red lipstick on the rim of the glass.

A phone rings, and you hear Tanaka’s gruff voice answer the call, the memory of last week shooting painfully through your core.

“Oi?”

Some silence, before the Khazak turns in his seat behind Daichi and whispers through the space between the leather and the wall of the jet. You can’t help the way you look at him, stormy grey eyes peering out at you as he whispers into the ear of your husband. Your brow furrows when Daichi jerks his head in a slight nod, tense.

Tanaka retreats back around and you’re left staring at the empty spot, snapping your eyes to the calculating gaze of The Bulldog.

“Is everything alright, my love?” you ask, deciding to stand from your seat and sit on his arm rest.

Daichi folds the newspaper away, one arm wrapping around your waist while the other takes a sip of the champagne straight from the bottle.

“It seems this trip will not only be pleasure,” he muses, eyes closing as he swallows. However, when they open, his face melts into the calm reassurance you’ve always known when he smiles up at you and places a kiss to the cream wool crepe of your blouse. “I have something to take care of, but it will only be a moment. Nothing to worry about.”

You nod, delicate hands stroking at Daichi’s hair, but Tanaka’s cologne wafts up, invading your nose.

“I understand.”

***

The drive to the private Villa La Vigie winds between grey and green rock mountains to your left with glimpses of the dazzling azure ocean of where the French Riviera gets its name to your right. You’re invited to stay in the home of your fathers dear friend, Monsieur Lagerfeld, situated on a private hill just outside Monaco. He will not be there, March being the month he spends in his apartment in Paris, so you and Daichi and the many bodyguards take residence for the week.

You’ve visited this house a number of times in your youth, in your adulthood, and yet it steals the air from your lungs each time you return. It’s one o’clock in the afternoon when you pull up the driveway. In front of you, the two story villa looms in it’s beautiful white-painted glory, the sun a beacon shining upon it. Light brick extends below to where there is a wine cellar, garage and access to the private beach club below.

The car parks, and Daichi kisses your cheek in the backseat before he exits the vehicle and strides up the steps and through the large glass double doors, answering his phone while bodyguards open the way for him. You see Tanaka grip the steering wheel, the leather of his gloves stretch and squeak. It is the first time you are alone with him since that night a week ago, and the heater in the car feels sweltering against your skin.

“Thank you for the drive, Ryunoslav,” you mumble, shifting to the edge of the seat to leave out of the side Daichi had.

“Val,” he starts, then his mouth shuts and his eyes catch yours in the reflection of the rearview mirror, “of course.”

The terracotta tiles of the terrace reflect a salmon pink up the walls of the villa, and you smile at the men as you pass by and find the master bedroom on the first floor. You can already hear Daichi negotiating in the connected office, and you decide to bathe. As the water runs in the porcelain tub, the water mists with the scent of lavende de provence, and you open the windows looking out over the meditterean ocean. The salt and trees wash over you as the sound of the ocean crashing against rocks floats up, and for an instance, you imagine jumping out the window and into that endless blue. The winter air trickles into the warm bathroom.

Notes of a waltz dance in from the direction of the office and you see Daichi’s shadow move around in the bedroom as he unbuttons his cufflinks and loosens his navy blue tie. He walks into the bathroom where you’ve already slipped on the linen bathrobe, your blouse and jeans folded neatly onto the clothes ladder leaning against the wall.

“Care to join?” you ask, clipping your hair up. Daichi peels his shirt off and drops it near your own in a crumpled pile, his thick muscles rippling with each movement as he undresses.

“Prosti, Gadyuka. I have to get to the board meeting before the gala tonight,” he apologises, turning on the glass door shower as he gets into it on the opposite side to the bath. You watch as the water in the faucet of the bath sputters, and your heart imitates.

“Ah yes, I forgot. What-”

“The car arrives at seven, Khazak will escort you.”

Your head whips around to stare at Daichi as he massages white suds over his body, large palms running over his chest where the Sawamurov crest is tattooed in a large circle. He raises his eyebrows. You clear your throat, standing to drop the gown and dip a toe into the water.

“Not you?”

“Unfortunately no, but I will be there waiting for you. I know the dress you are wearing and can’t have any man trying to steal you for himself.”

Daichi’s honeyed words wash over you as you submerge into the water, turning off the faucet and staring out to the sea, a stark sapphire against the lily-white of the bathroom walls and window pane. In the mirror above the sink, you can see The Bulldog get out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his defined waist while he shakes the water from his hair.

You laugh as you turn to observe him while he pats on the cologne displayed on the sink, before brushing his teeth.

“I doubt anyone will try to steal me away.”

He looks at you in the reflection, a curious expression in his eyes, before he spits and rinses.

“Yes, well, you never know. You might run off with a French vineyard heir by the end of the night.”

“Never, Daichi. No one can be my Bulldog but you.”

He snorts, turning to watch as you lather yourself in Chanel shower gel, the scent mixing with the lavender already clinging to the air.

“Da, no one is like me.”

He leans down to place a chaste kiss on your lips before he exits the bathroom and changes into a clean outfit waiting for him in the Master bedroom. The made-to-measure Chanel suit hangs in a black garment bag that he carries out with him as he leaves to join the council meeting of the European Casino Association before the Annual Art Auction tonight.

The interaction runs through your mind as you mull over the look in his eyes, the way he tensed before he kissed you goodbye, the faintest flicker of jealousy in his eyes that flared when he joked about you leaving him. Suddenly, you remember Ryunoslav’s lips against your neck and you squeeze your eyes shut.  With a deep inhale, you sink deep under the water to feel it tickle your nostrils and earlobes, before submerging your head.

Your fingers find the curves of your thighs, dragging up slowly to feel how the water moves around your hands and displaces against your skin. You lift your face slightly, until the edge of the water tickles your skin and you inhale, swirling the skin of your clit. In your mind, Ryunoslav’s kisses fall hot and wet against your body, skin red and heated in the bathtub while you press hard circles against sensitive nerves. You’re not trying to take it slow, coaxing the first wave of clenches quickly as you imagine a thick cock sliding over and over inside you.

Ryunoslav morphs into Daichi, and you sit up with a gasp, fingers not slowing, your hand gripping the handle of the tub tightly as your abdomen contracts. Uncontrollably, Ryu and Daichi alternate, their bodies shifting fluidly until a faceless man fucks into you.

You orgasm on the verge of tears, confused and aching. The styling team will arrive in an hour.

You stand, feeling the cold winter air touch your heated skin. Wrapped again in the robe, you close the window and bind your hair in a towel.

A Russian Waltz still plays on the radio inside the ensuite office, and you look around to filter the channel to a French songstress crooning over the small speakers. Next to the stereo, is Daichi’s small black book, open to his to-do list, and your eyes scan over it before you can stop yourself, reading the neatly scribbled words.

14 March 2006, 1:00 am, La Serpent Fleur

That was the name of the Superyacht you and Daichi are to go on after the gala for the afterparty to the auction. You frown, thinking of the myriad of reasons what he might do there, who he’ll meet with other than the ECA board today. It must be to do with what happened in Georgia and was whispered to him during the flight.

You turn, leaving the book just as you found it and unpack the suitcase that was brought to the bedroom in preparation for tonight.

8. Tanaka

Ryunoslav waits at the front door, facing the short five-stair foyer that branches into the stairwell leading to the first floor. The golden light of the sunset filters in gentle waves through the chiffon curtains of the entry hall.

The first thing he sees of Valentina is in the reflection of the large silver mirror facing the stairwell on the landing. A single leg slinking out from a thigh-high slit, while a heart shaped pump in patent black is clasped around her ankle. The metal YSL heel clinks with each step. Next is the black, silk crepe de chine perfectly draping to the floor–not clinging to anything but the curve of her hips–and the bodice tailored to her waist in a tight structure that pendulums side-to-side.

However, what steals the very air from his lungs, stops his heart, is the bustier covering her breasts. The dress is strapless, the neckline two rounded cups that trace down the sides of her cleavage and towards her ribs before turning and meeting in a gentle hill at the end of her sternum. The dress is Yves Saint Laurent. Ryunoslav watches as Valentina rounds the stairwell and stands at the top of the foyer, opera length gloves running up her arms and with one hand on her hip while the other clasps a small black Bulgari clutch. Around her neck is a pendant necklace, emeralds glittering amongst diamonds and silver, set in the shape of a viper head. Matching emerald drop earrings hang from her lobes, reflecting the golden sun and glittering green against her neck. Valentina’s hair is pinned up, and that tattoo that curls from her left shoulder down her arm disappears beneath the gloves, reminding him that beauty is a secret poison. He swallows, blinks, then climbs up the steps to hand her the white fur coat he was holding.

“Vot eto da… You look beautiful, Mrs. Sawamurova.” Tanaka whispers, mindful of the bodyguards and staff littering the villa.

“Spasiba, Khazak,” she smiles, slipping her arms into the silk lining and fixing the collar. “Is the car ready?”

“Da.”

“Good, let’s go.”

The exchange between them feels mechanical, and Tanaka rushes ahead to open the car door, waiting until she is comfortable before shutting it and sliding into the driver’s seat. It is nowhere near the low temperatures of Russia in March, however he can’t stop the shivers that travel up his spine, and the ugly twist of jealousy that stabs at his heart.

The Casino de Monte Carlo, where the gala is being held, is a mere five minute drive from the villa, yet the silence is heavy, weighted, and slows down time.

“I missed you last week,” Valentina whispers, looking out the window at the midnight blue sky. A traffic light changes from red to green.

“Me too.”

The conversation ends when Ryunoslav pulls the Aston Martin around the fountain, waiting behind a elder couple stepping out of their black limo. The statues on either side of the Casino name look down at him as he parks and climbs out, a porter beating him to her door.

Camera’s flash, the music of a quartet floats out from the massive wooden doors up the entryway, and Ryunoslav remains closely behind Valentina’s right arm as he escorts her inside, pulling the ticket for both of them from his inner coat pocket and handing it to the doorman.

The grand foyer of the Casino is massive, ceilings high with a stained-glass skylight and the floor a white tile with black triangles in a circular pattern. Posed around the room, mostly in the center of the circles, are the artworks up for auction: a variety of paintings, sculptures, artifacts and some vintage designer jewellery. The golden chandeliers light the air with a sepia filter that softens the chatter and noise within. On the first floor bannister across the long hall, is a banner exclaiming, ‘2006 Annual ECA Art Auction’. Couples mingle, champagne is sipped and the Hors d’oeuvres are ignored in favour of the alcohol.

“I will check our coats,” Tanaka murmurs low in Russian, watching as Val slides the white fur down her arms to hand it to him with a polite smile, the kind he’s seen her wear in the public eye alongside Daichi for many years now.

“I’ll wait here, then we go find Daichi.”

His heart thumps painfully, the curve of her shoulders delicate as they flex in passing the heavy coat, but he nods and heads to the coat check just off the side. In passing, he spots Daichi at the top of the red-carpeted staircase, head bowed to speak secretly with someone Ryunoslav can not see, but knows. Daichi’s eyes find the growing storm in Tanaka’s with a smile, and he straightens to bid the woman a goodbye and descends the stairs.

“Sir,” Tanaka nods, pocketing the number for the coats.

“Ryunoslav,” Daichi returns the greeting, casually clapping the man on his shoulder. “Enjoy the evening, I will see you at the yacht later, yes?”

“She could’ve seen you, sir.” Tanaka whispers, carefully keeping eye contact with his Boss. Daichi smirks cooly, glancing back up the stairs and at a retreating woman’s back wearing a deep green dress.

“She did not see me. Thank you, again, for keeping this secret. Now, go, enjoy the party. Hell, if you see something you like, bid on it. I will pay.”

With that, Daichi walks past his Head of Security, chest puffing up as he walks towards his wife. Ryunoslav watches as she gives Daichi a gentle kiss on the cheek before wrapping a gloved hand around his bicep and following him into the crowd.

9. Valentina

The evening passes by in a blur.

The dinner and speeches take up half the evening before the auction begins, and the gala attendees disperse throughout the Casino, while you and Daichi walk to the gardens. Heaters are spaced periodically, warmth sinking below while gentle lights litter the walkways and grass. The stone steps leading there are cool, and you see your breath misting with each exhale before you’re back under the warmth.

The area of the auction outside has statues, planted with lighting that bring the romantic and violent figures to life.

“This one would look beautiful in our gardens in summer,” you muse, studying a small mermaid brushing her hair, tail flicked up and shells covering her breast.

“Anything for you,” Daichi replies, writing down a number with his auction code and placing it in the poll box besides the statue.

You just laugh politely, aware of Daichi’s two bodyguards following the both of you.

“Let’s go back inside. I want to see how our bid on the Kandinsky is doing.” Daichi offers, but you shake your head.

“I’ll walk around here for a bit longer. It’s such a beautiful night and the noise inside was giving me a headache.”

“As you wish.”

You spend a few minutes admiring the remaining statues, finding a waiter that hands you a glass of champagne. With small sips, you hug an arm around your waist, looking over the stone wall at the beautiful, glittering scenery of Monte-Carlo below. You find yourself tucked away in a dark corner of the ledge, where the lights of the gala are few, the tree branches of the gardens overhang, and the city has come to life beneath you. You can hear jazz music from a bar down the road, and you wish you were sitting on a terrace with a glass of wine instead.

“C’est magnifique, non?” A heavy french accent sinks into you, and you glance at the man that leans with his back to the view, a deep purple suit contrasting against his tanned skin and sharp cheekbones. He smokes a hand-rolled cigarette. You look back out at the city.

“Oui, trop beau,” you reply softly, taking another sip, shifting onto the foot farthest from the stranger. He turns and offers you one of the smokes, tucking it away in his jacket breast pocket with a smile and a tap when you decline. His eyes travel down your breasts, before glancing back up to your arching brows and unamused eyes.

“Je ne parle pas de la vue,” I do not mean the view, “Emmanuelle Beauchant,” he offers an outstretched palm.

“Valentina,” he lifts your gloved hand to his lips, but hovers just above contact when you continue, “Sawamurova.”

“Desolee, I did not realise you were not French, or married,” Emmanuelle apologises in English.

You smile politely, lifting the glass to your mouth to down the last of the fizzing alcohol.

“An honest mistake.”

“Your husband’s Casinos are some of my favourites. Please, accept my apologies. Let me get you a new glass.” He waves down a waiter, plucking the empty flute from your fingers and replacing it before you can reject. “I am the coordinator of this petite soiree. Enjoy your evening, Mrs. Sawamurova.” With that, he leaves in a hurry, scampering off into the light much like he had appeared, leaving you alone again. Almost.

You feel the warmth of another body to your right, and you almost sigh from exhaustion when Ryunoslav’s gruff voice washes over you in comforting Russian. It breaks like the wave against the shore.

“I thought I would have to scare him away.”

Tanaka’s serious eyes beneath the shadow of a deep brow pulls the first real chuckle of the evening from your chest, and you see his shoulders somewhat relax as he leans with a hip on the stone.

“It was innocent, Ryu.”

“He wanted to fuck you.”

“He’s French,” you counter, placing the champagne glass down, sliding it away from your body and towards the party. “And everyone wants to fuck me.”

You spin, losing your balance as Tanaka pulls your hand towards him and twists you so that your back presses against the cool stone in a darkened alcove. His forehead is on yours, eyes shut, and breath fanning over your lips. Your own chest heaves with the sudden rush. His hands dig into your hips, yours into his shoulders. Your bag drops to the floor.

“You have no idea,” each word is punctuated by palms shimmying up the side of your waist, thumbs digging into the fabric, “how badly I want to fuck you too.”

He wraps his thick forearms behind your back hugging you tight and into himself as he folds over you and brings his lips to touch yours. It’s deep, and although passion usually pours from his kiss, this one is born out of jealousy, desperation, and desire.

Compliments drip like honey from Ryunoslav’s mouth as he mumbles them into your skin, words melting so that they become part of you.

“Ryu, Ryu, stop, we can’t. It’s so open.”

He shushes you, a palm snaking under the boning of the open neckline to cup the breast, nipplie erect from the night chill. “No one saw me come here.”

“But the people. They know who I am, mmpf.” A pinch to your nipple has you moaning under your breath, head tilting back against the stone, cold against heated flesh.

“They are all too busy with their own conquests, showing up one another.”

“You light a fire in my heart,” his onslaught of compliments don’t cease, and you realise that tonight is the tipping point. The intensity of his words drag you beneath his waters, much like the way his fingers find the high slit of your dress and sink into your folds. Your knee falls open to let him pull you deeper.

“Underwear?”

“Not with this dress.”

“Whore.” Teeth nip at your neck.

“Yours.”

An animalistic groan rumbles through your veins from his mouth, and you clutch at the lapel of his jacket as his fingers thrust shallow, over and over again. You want him–need him– inside you, and the thought of public sex no longer scares you. In this moment, only Ryunoslav exists, the smell of lilies and the fresh ocean fill you, devouring you with a hint of something darker that you recognise as human.

Sin. And something else.

A zipper comes down, his cock unfolds and stretches you out.

“I love you.”

The words tumble from your lips before you can stop them, and even then, you don’t keep them in as you whisper, him thrustsing into your aching core. You vaguely hear him mumbling it back to you. His voice low and sincere, forehead against yours, lips against yours. Your bodies become one.

“Blyat, where can I?” desperation fills his voice, and you barely utter the words before he spills inside you, keeping you warm and plugged up, panting against his face, chin tucked down.

A hand rifles through his pants pocket, and he pulls out his regular small handkerchief, stained, but comforting. You take it from him, careful to keep your face hidden as he pulls out and you wipe yourself under your skirt.

“Ryunoslav.” His name feels like lava, molten on your tongue as it rolls down your body and ignites a fire over your skin, burning you. “We have to stop seeing each other.”

He tenses against you, arms shielding you from the world so only the two of you exist.

“Why?”

“We’ve changed. We’re not just having fun anymore, Ryu-”

“What do you mean we’ve changed?”

“Us. This.” You curse, gesturing vaguely to him and yourself, feeling the fire spread to your ears and your heart.

“Nothing has changed. I have always loved you.”

Your heart drops into your stomach, turning over and over as you digest it, painfully aware of how much truth rings in his words, and how you’re sure you’ve always loved him back.

“We have to stop. Or we have to tell Daichi.”

His lips connect with your forehead. You hear him swallow.

“Tonight then. Together.”

“Together.”

Ryunoslav stays close to you as he picks up the bag from the floor, handing you the mirror inside to fix your lipstick, your hair, before you dust the stone from your back and ass.

“You look beautiful,” he whispers to you a final time, stepping to the side so you emerge from the shadow, pick up your forgotten champagne glass and head back into where art dances together and people mingle.

10. Tanaka

Tanaka watches as Valentina saunters away, past the bodies to rejoin the party. With a heavy sigh, he leans against the stone, cooling his forehead and calming his thumping heart. His feet bump against something and with one eye, he squints at the ground and spots glittering emeralds in the dark. Her necklace.

Quickly, he picks it up, carefully placing it in his suit jacket pocket, and curses when he sees the time on his watch. He has to find Daichi and head to the yacht to do the final security checks before he arrives. Vines wrap themselves around his intestines, anxiety leaking into each step, the emerald necklace a dead weight in his jacket.

He finds the Boss surrounded by influential board members, holding a glass of vodka casually as they all laugh at his jokes. The Chanel suit drapes down his broad back perfectly, clean cut and sharp, the single seam a crisp line.

“Sorry for interrupt,” Tanaka apologies, English tangling on his tongue. He continues in a low Russian to Daichi, sweat beading on the back of his neck, palms clammy and therefore kept in his pants pocket. It’s better that way, his tattoos are less appreciated around the higher class of society.

Daichi nods, a loose smile along with his loosened tie. He hands Tanaka a paper that shows he won the bid on the Kandinsky painting. “Arrange this on the way out. Leave Valentina’s coat with mine.”

“Ya ponimayu.”

Tanaka turns to leave, but Daichi calls out one more time.

“Ryunoslav?”

“Da?”

“You have lipstick on your collar.”

Tanaka feels nausea bubbling up his gut, not from the proximity of your scent to The Bulldog’s nose, but from the thought of later tonight. He forces a cocky smirk and shrug, turning on his heel to head to the back office to finalise the paperwork for the painting and add the delivery address, before shrugging his thick coat on and stepping outside by the valet. The air has cooled considerably from the heat of the balcony and between your thighs. Once safely in the car, he rubs the stain furiously in the reflection of the rearview mirror, making it set even further into the white fabric. It blends into the threads like spilt blood. With a grumble, he drives to the harbor.

La Serpent Fleur is a sleek superyacht with three decks above water and one below, housing jet ski’s, a speedboat, storage and crew quarters. The middle and lower decks have outdoor and indoor seating, with main bedrooms for up to 15 couples to sleep in. The flooring and interior is light teakwood, rich brown accents amongst cream and white leather and fabric. It’s unmissable in the late night, lit up in silvery white, the name illuminated against a navy blue sky and pitch black water. It reflects stars in the meditterean sea.

Tanaka greets all staff, deploying his bratva across the yacht to inspect all rooms and inform the captain of the upcoming helicopter landing at 1:00 am. It’s not often that Mafia business mixes with Business business, but as money is always intertwined, this time, it is unavoidable. The pool on the top deck shimmers aquamarine, and Tanaka inspects that the bar is fully stocked for the upcoming meeting. Vodka and Campari. This floor is only for Daichi and a select few.

“It’s like I’m a fucking assistant,” he grumbles under his breath, withdrawing a small hand-gun strapped to his calf and securing it in the hidden shelf under the bar top. You never know, he smiles, tapping the holster against his back for comfort.

All checks are done by the time the first of the guests arrive, high-stakes rollers for the gambling about to happen. Tanaka keeps to the shadows, lighting a cigarette as he surveys the walkway leading up to the yacht, and it’s guests. They are all smiling, huddling together in their pair against the cool ocean breeze. He takes a look at the pack that was confiscated from Ukai with distaste, flicking the cigarette into the ocean water.

Daichi and Valentina are the last to arrive, and although he’s smiling, she is not, lipstick slightly faded and a smudge of mascara under her eyes. Tanaka watches as she disappears as soon as she set foot on the yacht, hurrying off to inside the cabin before anyone can stop her. Tanaka’s eyes follow her retreating figure, the white of her coat bristling, before he steps up to greet Daichi.

“Everything is ready for Kuroo Testuro to arrive, Boss,” he reports, murmuring low.

“Perfect, evening has turned into disaster. Make sure no one will disturb us except for emergency. It will not take long. What is his eta?” Daichi never lowers the corners of his mouth, but those brown eyes are hard mahogany. Tanaka checks his watch, the light above reflecting in the glass, shining in the storm in his eyes.

“Forty-five minutes. We have to set sail now, all guests have arrived and the poker tables inside have been set up.”

“I will wait upstairs.”

“Yes, Boss.”

Tanaka sighs, running a hand over his shorn hair, a shiver rippling down his spine. He hears his name, and he turns to face one of his brothers, following after to inspect a stairwell.

It does not take long for the party to fall into full swing. Continuing with free-flowing champagne is the key to keeping rich socialites and underground dealers happy and oblivious. Daichi stands near the railing, ice cubes in his glass clinking while he surveys the decks below and waits. Tanaka stands to attention off the side, the cool winter air breezing through his suit jacket, the veins on his knuckles and forearms almost frozen; he stuffs them into his pockets. The cool silver of Valentina’s necklace shocks him and he remembers he has to sneak it back to her. He peers over the edge, spotting her in the distance, smiling once more, makeup fixed and socialising.

His heart thumps, emeralds and diamonds cutting a hole in his jacket pocket, beating faster until it syncs up with the incoming helicopter blades. They whir around in a steady beat that consumes the noise below and thrums through his bones. Then, the wind hits him. Air cold as ice as the machine descends, the collar of his jacket whipping up and folding into itself. Kuroo Testuro has arrived.

The blades come to a halt and Tanaka steps forward, two men overtaking him to climb up the stairs of the helicopter pad landing and open the door. Long legs dressed in a black pin-stripe suit step out, a lopsided cocky smirk plastered on the Italian boss’s face.

“Ciao Daichi, it’s been a while!” Kuroo calls over the wind, arms stretching out while he’s patted down. “Khazak, you’re looking sour.”

Tanaka scowls, not entirely sure what The Panther of the Testuro family said to him. Daichi turns to face the man completely, walking until he stands next to Tanaka, waiting for the man to descend the white metal stairs to the upper deck. The Boss’s exchange a stiff handshake, their eyes piercing as one fights for dominance over the other. Daichi wins, his hand slapping against Kuroo’s back in a hearty greeting.

“Let’s get to business, something to drink?” The Bulldog offers, but Kuroo is laughing, already walking to the leather sofas around the pool, flopping down onto it with one leg crossed over the other. He waves to one of his bodyguards, pointing at the bar.

“Always so formal Daichi, tell me, how is Valentina? Still married to you?” Kuroo’s words tumble out quickly, Italian accent thick enough that Tanaka can only pick up on a few words. He registers your name, and the hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention, ready to attack at Daichi’s order. The Boss takes a deep breath, his teeth gritting.

“She is fine. Enjoying party below.”

“Pity, I think she’d be happier up here with us. Won’t you call her?”

“Careful, Kuroo.”  Daichi warns, but the Panther just smiles his wicked Cheshire grin in return.

“Ah, I’m joking. I will just keep the fantasy of her lips around my–”

A hand darts out over Kuroo’s shoulder, interrupting any further explanation of imagination. Tanaka grabs Daichi’s arm, one that had tensed with it’s fist closed around a concealed gun in a holster on his back.

“Campari, sir?”

“Ah! Grazie!” He takes a sip, setting it down on the glass table beside him. “Now, we can talk business.”

Tanaka listens to the low conversation between the two bosses, the discussion of the new trade route of cocaine between Italy and Russia. It takes some time to adjust to the accent, but then he’s following along, standing with his hands in his pockets, a thumb gliding over the necklace. There had been an interruption along the coasts between Lecce and Albania, several different Sicillian Mafia’s holding up some of Daichi’s shipments due to unpaid ‘reparations’, a farce to ignite a turf war between the Families in Italy and their Russian connections.

“You must call off your friends in Italy. We keep up our end of bargain. I will not be so understanding in future.”

“Ah, but you see, they are greedy and believe you are not paying properly for the passage.”

“I assure you, I am.”

Tanaka stiffens, seeing how Daichi begins to inflate, irritation lacing his voice. Kuroo chuckles, taking a slow sip with raised eyebrows.

“Oh, I believe you. I can convince them but I’ll need some extra incentive from your end.”

Tanaka speaks up, eyes narrowing as he sniffs out Kuroo’s angle. “We can not give you that.”

“You are one of the largest groups in the world, surely you have some men for me?”

“No.”

Tanaka’s blood begins to boil, nails biting into the skin of his palms enough to draw blood. The gun strapped on his back heavy as it calls to be unholstered. His men are not dispensable. Kuroo sighs, then his eyes glance to the left where the noise of the party floats in the night air, and he smiles.

“Then maybe you have a woman.”

Tanaka turns to follow his gaze, and climbing up the stairs slowly is Valentina, a hand on the metal rail, the white fur coat hanging down her back as it drapes from her elbows, lipstick blood red. She’s drunk, giggling to herself but stops when a vor blocks the final step onto the deck. Then, she sobers, straightening instantly with narrowed eyes.

“Asahi,” she says, voice sharp but breathless.

“The Boss is in a meeting.”

Her makeup had been fixed, the tips of her nose and ears pink from the chill, her hair no longer pinned up but wild down her back from the wind. Tanaka glances at Daichi, his eyes muddy and lips tightly pursed.

“Oh, let her join, huh?” Kuroo grins, setting his glass down and leaning forward to interlock his fingers and rest his elbows on his knees. “Surely, you trust her enough.”

“Of course.”

Daichi and his guest battle in their stares, but ultimately the Panther wins. With a sigh, Daichi calls out to Alexei, “let her through.”

Valentina strides over to the men, coat dragging on the floor behind her. Surprising everyone, she stops in front of the cocky bastard, who stands to greet her, and their cheeks brush twice, left then right.

“Kuroo, how lovely to see you again. I hope my husband is kind.”

Tanaka holds back a wince, the feeling of her warm breath against his neck still teasing him in his memories. He has to admire her acting, even inebriated, she commands attention. Their eyes follow when she walks to the head of the table and flops down onto the chair, slit falling open with crossed legs.

“He’ll be kinder now that you are here.”

Valentina laughs, “yes, but I might not be.”

“Enough.” Daichi cuts through the jovial small talk, fists clenching and resting on his knees, his back straight. “I am tired of games.”

Tanaka thinks he catches a double meaning, heart racing as he readies himself for anything.

“You own Casinos,” Kuroo drawls, but he’s no longer smiling, still standing. Daichi gets to his feet, shorter than his counterpart, but thicker.

“We are getting nowhere. I will not be included in your battle for control, and if my next shipment continues to be held, God is not the only one that can turn water into wine. Capisci?”

Their stares are intense, and seconds tick by in eternity, before Kuroo nods with a sigh, a hand tucking into his pants pocket while the other extrends. They shake, curt and stiff, and Tanaka rolls his shoulders, loosening the knots in his upper back, eyeing Valentina curiously. She has her eyes focused on Daichi, pupils narrow and mouth pressed into a thin line; the same look she had when she boarded the yacht. She snaps out of it, lips curling up as she stands.

“It was a pleasure, although short,” Kuroo tells her, and they exchange polite kisses. Tanaka hears the rumble in Daichi’s chest, and he briefly wonders if she’s purposefully trying to anger the Bulldog. She’s always been unafraid of his bark, a viper teasing with her fangs.

They wait until Kuroo climbs back in the helicopter, until the blades whir to life with that beating drum that pumps adrenaline through his body and until it is quiet once more, the waves sloshing far below against the yacht. The air is crisp, and the silence heavy. Valentina turns to face Daichi, neck tense, mouth open but Daichi cuts her off.

“Don’t embarrass me like that again.”

Tanaka bristles, the hair on the back of his neck standing up. He controls the need to step in front of Val, to shield her from his Boss. The weight of her necklace in his pocket keeps him anchored. His heart pounds in his ears, Daichi glances at him briefly before keeping an unwavering eye on Valentina’s fierce gaze. It’s odd. Tanaka always has a plan, knows what will happen next, and yet, he is at a loss. Unsteady on his feet as the boat rocks. He’s unsure of what she will do, how she will tell her possessive husband–

“I’m seeing someone.”

11. Valentina

Lightning flashes in the distance when the words leave your lips, the thunder rumbling in the silence that follows. You watch Daichi carefully, standing your ground even though parts of you scream to take a few steps back. You resist the temptation to glance at Ryunoslav. During your musings, you decided not to say who it was right away. Daichi glances down at your bare neck, the necklace he’d given you missing, lost somewhere at the gala when you finally lost yourself in emotion. You remember the fight with him when leaving the venue.

You expected Daichi to burst in anger, explode outwards and destroy everything with his fury. Yet he remains silent, eyes mattifying as he draws inward, no longer oiled mahogany but rather sanded wood. When he speaks, it’s so low you almost miss it, but it penetrates you with the next flash of lightning.

“Leave.”

White, hot anger burns through you at his command, your hands raising as though to grab his lapel. Quickly, you reroute to pulling your fur coat back onto your shoulders.

“You don’t want to know who?”

“You don’t want to know what I am thinking right now, Gadyuka.”

You open your mouth to respond, but Ryunoslav cuts you off, “take the boat, please.”

You stare incredulously at him, but he is already speaking in a low voice onto a handheld receiver, then back at Daichi, who’s body slowly begins to vibrate. However, Daichi is no longer looking at you. Instead, his eyes have shifted to Ryu, brows furrowed. Thunder claps. You feel the first spray of rain misting onto your eyelashes.

“Fine, we will talk more at breakfast.”

You turn on your heel, the sound grating against the wooden deck, and someone from the Brigade accompanies you down the stairs, walking just slightly ahead of you, silently asking you to follow.

You descend slowly, crossing the second deck with a practised smile, apologising to anyone that approaches you with an easy lie. Most of the crewmen begin to pack up and rearrange the party to continue on indoors. You enter the large cabin, and walk down another flight of stairs, to the first deck and then lower still. Here, the walls change from luxurious wooden, glass and metal to open beams, and white gritty flooring. It’s slightly wet, from the rain that batters against the open exit and the ocean water shimmering inside.

A small speedboat waits for you, not fully submerged, and a captain, yet his face is wary.

“Mrs. Sawamurova,” he holds his hat in his hands, a navy raincoat wrapped around his uniform, “wouldn’t you rather wait for the storm to pass? Please, enjoy the evening and when the water is still, I can take you to shore in an instant.”

“My husband wants me gone.”

“But not dead.”

You laugh, bitterly, feeling your intestines swirl, unsettled by those words. He’s brave.

“How long do you think it will take?”

“A few minutes, maximum. It is the winter rain, harsh but quick.”

“I will wait here.”

12. Tanaka

When the top of Valentina’s head disappears down the stairs, Daichi speaks, not looking at Tanaka. The first of fat raindrops begin to fall onto their shoulders.

“I will have to talk to her father, after I kill her.”

Tanaka’s tongue is heavy in his mouth, every bump dry and scratching against his throat. He can’t be serious. Slowly, Daichi turns to face him, eyes raking over his closest subordinate’s features, down his throat, and settles on the crisp white collar peeking out from his suit jacket, stained the same colour as Valentina’s lipstick.

“Khazak, who is it?”

“Boss–” but he doesn’t know what to say. The memories of the prison hospital bed, bare with just a sheet, an unsterilised IV drip stuck into his arm flashes in front of his mind. Daichi’s calm face that visited him before he woke up somewhere else.

“Tell me right now, or does your loyalty mean nothing?”

Tanaka winces, “nyet, Boss, you know I am loyal to you.”

He takes a deep breath, then reaches inside, fingers looping around diamonds to pull out the necklace, the viper head swaying back and forth. His heart claps with the thunder, the clouds breaking into a heavy downpour. Chill sets in instantly, his bones freezing beneath his suit.

“Supply snakes with a meal, and you will have them all by the fangs,” Daichi whispers under his breath, barely audible above the pattering of the drops against the floor, but Tanaka’s sensitive ears pick it up. “She played me for a fool.” Daichi’s wide-set eyes lift from the necklace to Tanaka’s.

“Mne ochyn zhal,” Tanaka begins to apologise profusely, but the hardened look shuts him up.

“I was wrong, Khazak,” Daichi interrupts, his hands moving to his pockets, Tanaka dropping his arm to his side. He starts to walk towards the sheltered area of the deck, withdrawing a pack of cigarettes. “You are the one that is going to have to kill her.”

Tanaka’s heart drops to his stomach, falling straight into the floor and sinking to the bottom of the unruly ocean. The Boss does not joke around, but he wishes for it to be one.

“I can not, Boss,” his head shakes, body vibrates. This is the first time he has ever refused an order from Daichi. The Bulldog watches with raised eyebrows, the question evident on his face.

“I am in love with her.”

The bark that erupts from Daichi’s throat echoes above the rain, above the thunder, and shatters inside Tanaka’s heart. He holds the cigarette to his lips, and Tanaka feels the rain drip down the rivulets of his shaved hair and under the collar of his suit and shirt. There’s a flicker of orange as the Marlboro tip glows.

“And you think she loves you back? Valentina is a snake, a woman. They know only two things: how to lie and how to fuck. You have fucked her, da? It’s magnificent. Was she the second whore of that weekend? Or was she first as well? How long have you been fucking my wife, Ryunoslav?”

Tanaka wants to answer, but it catches in his throat. His tongue refuses to mould the shapes, his lungs refuse to exhale the sound. Daichi sighs.

“It does not matter. Only one thing matters. Come.”

Tanaka walks towards Daichi, each step kicking water down his shoes, his socks wet. He’s never felt more like the ocean than now, swallowed by the rain, drowning. He stops when he stands under the partition, Daichi’s large hands cupping themselves under Tanaka’s chin to lift his head slightly, wiping the rain from his skin, the gold rings cold against his jaw. There may have been tears but Tanaka can’t tell, numb and expectant of Daichi’s next words,

“Tell me, do you love her more than me?”

Cigarette smoke tickles Tanaka’s nose, and he holds his breath. Without him, Tanaka would be dead. Daichi knows this, Tanaka knows this.

“I owe you my life, Pakhan.”

“Now, you owe me a life. I am not without mercy. You have been the closest brother to me. You have tasted the sweet fruit of sin, I can not blame you. You know I have done it too. But I am expected to sleep with someone else. She has embarrassed me. I can not have that. A Boss that can not keep his woman in line? No one will respect me, her own father will not respect me.”

Tanaka remembers the conversation in the banya, the plans to take over completely, the poor health Valentina’s old man is in.

“Are you loyal, or are you just another predatel, scum like the men you erase from existence?”

The storm in Tanaka’s eyes swirl around, clashing against the hard forest floor of Daichi’s. He is loyal. Strangely, in this moment, he remembers the lilies of his home, and their sweet, comforting fragrance, his mother making dinner, and his sister who ran with him to their new life before separating. The pain of losing her no longer stabs at him, maybe this pain someday will not either.

13. Valentina

The room is white and grey, the smell of oil and rubber and metal and salt clinging to the air, to your skin. All the alcohol consumed over the evening seeps from your pores, creating a pounding in your head. You begin to wonder if it was ever a good idea to tell Daichi. You wonder what happened when you left, and you wonder where your necklace is. Your fingers brush over your sternum, feeling the ghost of the viper head and of Tanaka’s mouth.

You taptaptap your toes against the floor, the rain echoing in time, the water drawing in and out rhythmically as you wait for the storm to pass. Only a few minutes, you were told.

“Few minutes, my ass.”

The walkie-talkie connected to the captain’s hip shocks to life, and broken Russian floats up, but you can’t make out the words. He answers, smiles at you, “please, wait here. I will be back soon.”

Then, he leaves, and you’re left alone with the brat that accompanied you. He sighs heavily, as though the inconvenience to him is all your doing, and you glare.

“Is there a problem, soldier?” you ask, standing straight, arms crossed in front of your chest. They seem to forget, Daichi married into your family, not the other way around.

“Nyet, Gadyuka, prosti,” he apologises quickly.

Silence settles over the hull again, claustrophobia leaching into your veins. If you look out at the open hatch, you can see inky blackness, and far in the distance, the faint yellow lights of Monte Carlo. You are about to ask for some water when footsteps echo against the metal walls, a familiar gait.

“Leave us, pazolvste.”

Ryunoslav says to his subordinate, who swiftly salutes him and walks up the stairs. The door at the top clicks shut. You’re speechless, and he is sopping wet.

“Ryu,” you whisper, walking towards him and draping your arms around his shoulders, uncaring at the feeling of water pressing into the fabric of your dress, dripping between the open gap of your breasts. He’s stiff when you touch him, but soon melts, nose nuzzling into your neck and breathing deeply. He still smells like crisp apple and fresh seawater.

“Why are you here?”

“Daichi knows.”

You’ve never felt colder, warmer, like a fever and frostbite all at once. You feel him rustle against your bodies, and you let go to watch him pull the Bulgari necklace out, lifting your hand to place it in your palm. Your fingers close around the jewels automatically.

“I told him I love you.”

There are no words that come to your mind in that instant. Emotions, many. Relief, nausea, stillness and rage, love for the man in front of you. You ache to feel his warm, corded muscles against your skin. He looks pained, eyes tormented as he looks into your soul.

“How did he react?”

“Not well.”

“And?”

He gives no space for continuation, pulling you tightly against his body, arms snaking around your waist as his lips fall against your mouth. His skin is cool, wet, pressing to your heated cheeks, but his mouth is inviting. There is passion unlike what you’ve experienced before. It tastes like freedom, like a new day and endless night. It’s the smoke on the fire, and the salt of the sea. He’s crying, you realise, and you open your mouth to lick up a tear on the corner of his mouth.

The necklace slips from your fingers when you grab him, pushing the jacket of his suit from his shoulders to drop to the already wet floor. There’s a faint crunch, but neither one of you pull away to look at the crushed jewel beneath your heel. It’s just so right to kiss him. In this moment, the world falls away and it’s just the two of you. His taste fills you with a feeling that rivals being whole, satiated. Something hard pokes against your hip, and you smile into the kiss, lips moving to his jaw to suck on an earlobe.

But you freeze. Daichi is at the top of the stairs.

“I’m sorry,” Ryunoslav whispers.

You frown, his words not registering and when you pull back to ask what is happening, he ensnares another kiss from you, tears flowing freely, something hard, cold, now presses against your temple and–

.

.

.

End.

-----

Thank you for reading, truly. This fic honestly has so much of my heart and soul in it. I had so much fun writing it. I hope you’re not too mad about the ending lmao.

@dee-madwriter , @pleasantanathema​​​ , @lookslikeleese​​​ , @linestrider​​​ , @hisoknen​​​ , @mindninjax​​​ , @whats-her-quirk​​​ , @messwriting​

[metztliyaotl]

Backstory on Metztli:

Her Father :

Tezcatlipoca (Tez-ca-tlee-POH-ka), whose name means “Smoking Mirror”, was the Aztec god of night and sorcery, as well as the patron deity of Aztec kings and young warriors. As with many Aztec gods, he was associated with several aspects of Aztec religion, the sky, and the earth, winds and the north, kingship, divination, and war. For the different aspects he embodied, Tezcatlipoca was also known as the Red Tezcatlipoca of the West, and the Black Tezcatlipoca of the North, associated with death and cold.

According to Aztec mythology, Tezcatlipoca was a vengeful god, who could see and punish any evil behavior or action happening on earth. For these qualities, Aztec kings were considered Tezcatlipoca’s representatives on earth; at their election, they had to stand in front of the god’s image and perform several ceremonies in order to legitimize their right to rule.

Tezcatlipoca was known as the Lord of the Smoking Mirror. That name is a reference to obsidian mirrors, circular flat shiny objects made of volcanic glass, as well as a symbolic reference to the smoke of battle and sacrifice. According to ethnographic and historical sources, he was very much a god of light and shadow, of the sound and smoke of bells and battle. He was closely associated with obsidian (itzli in the Aztec language) and jaguars (ocelotl). Black obsidian is of the earth, highly reflective and a vital part of human blood sacrifices. Jaguars were the epitome of hunting, warfare, and sacrifice to the Aztec people, and Tezcatlipoca was the familiar feline spirit of Aztec shamans, priests, and kings.

Her Mother: 

Niorun or Njorun, lives in Svartalfheim, and she is an important goddess of dreams and of the night to the Duergar ( the dwarves ) and to the Dark Elves, from whom most of the knowledge about this goddess, comes. Svartalfheim is a dangerous realm, if one must cross it, there aren’t much places to hid, or get shelter, a safe place.. Traveling fast, straight to the destination is the best thing to do, however, where Niorun dwells, is the only place one might find peace and stay without being chased, haunted or stalked by anyone. They might find protection there, although, as soon as anyone leaves the place, that protection is over and they must carry their journey on their own again. Her face is seldom seen, she walks in her halls as a shadowed figure, she speaks with people of course, but most of what she says, no one can remember, it is like living a dream inside those halls, and it can be dangerous to fall asleep. She can be called to have prophetic dreams, to find answers while you sleep, but those dreams might not be clear, but at least you might learn something new, something that might prove useful in your life, the dreams can inspire you in all the you do.

----------------------------------

Full Name : Metztli Yaotl

Prounciation : Mays-lee Yaou-It

Nickname : Mayze

Mother : Niorun or Njorun - The Norse Goddess of Dreams

Father : Tezcatlicopa - The Aztec God of Night & Sorcery

Designation : Goddess of Night, Dreams, & Sorcery; Jaguar Shifter

The way Metztli has been told by her Mother Niorun of how she, and  Tezcatlipoca had come to meet has always been an interesting, and favorite of Metztli. The way her Mother told it:

Tezcatlipoca was a well renowned Sorcerer of the Aztec Indians so he had the ability to do things that any normal Indian could not like use his Obsidian Mirror to find things that were better left unfound, and that had definitely included her Mother Niorun. Because of his brashness Niorun’s curiosity had been piqued so she visited Tezcatlipoca in his dreams on a few occasions, and they had begun a illicit affair though Tezcatlipoca had allegedly promised himself to another. What Niorun hadn’t been expecting was to become pregnant to The Aztec Sorcerer and when she visited him in his dream to inform him, he had been shocked.

Niorun made it a point to let Metztli know that her Father has never denied their Daughter though he could not acknowledge her as such since those that followed him would question it. This is why Metztli had remained with her Mother much like her Half-Sister Zyana and her two Half-Brother’s Granger and Calian would often come to visit with their Mother and with them. The most difficult time in Metztli’s life was on her First Shift and though Calian is also a Shifter he could not guide her in hers because they are of a different species...

And even though Tezcatlipoca could not be with Metztli physically he did do his best to whisper encouragingly and guide her through it, and though it was quite painful she managed to survive, and she can still remember him speaking softly of how proud he was of her. Now, Metztli just keeps a close relationship with her Siblings and she will at times visit with her Mother but she has yet to get a chance to see her Father though she hopes to get that chance maybe one day.

[itsuki-minamy]

“SIX IDOLS”

CHAPTER 2: “YATA MISAKI’S BUILDING EXPLORATION! HAUNTED HOUSE EDITION” (Complete)

* K - Six Idols (List of Chapters) * Projects & Chapters

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Ridia

That day, it had been raining since morning.

He lifts his scarf to his mouth, takes a sip of hana, and Misaki Yata walks down the well-known shopping street. Born and raised in Shizume, this shopping street has been a playground, pathway, and everyday scene since childhood.

The fish shop shutter opened and a middle-aged woman appeared. The fish-filled foamed shelf is neat in the showcase. When he saw her, Yata bowed politely.

"Good morning, Oba-chan. You are well today."

"Oh, Misaki-chan. Yes, good morning. Are you going home now?"

Yata smiles bitterly. It is true that there is no morning and no night in the entertainment world, but he has not set an unreasonable schedule for having to go home at this time. Izumo Kusanagi, who is the actual owner, is paying attention to that area.

"No, it's recorded from now on. It's a home visiting plan for 'Shirogin Deluxe'. Have you seen it?"

"Oh, that show! I love it too. Misaki-chan, you're supposed to be out. I'm glad."

Yata was a little glad to see her shaking her face. For him, who has never left his hometown, it is a great motivation to please people who have known him for a long time.

Yata raises his thumb and shows it to the lady.

"Thanks! Well then I'll go!"

The lady also made an approving gesture to imitate Yata.

"Yeah, come on. Good luck, I'm supporting you."

Waving as he walks, Yata realizes that his heart is filled with warm feelings. The cold of winter and the mist that clings to his skin seemed to immediately disappear at that sensation.

Yata, who passed through the business district and onto the main street, was not surprised at all to see the location car.

"Huh? Are you turning the camera already?"

"Oh, Yata-san! Hello!"

Kamamoto, who was standing near the location car, waved loudly while holding the camera. Loud greetings are good in this industry if it's on a television station.

Yata rushed over to Kamamoto and touched his head.

"Ah!"

"Don't yell! It's going to upset the neighbors!"

All of them are also captured on camera. But that doesn't really matter to him. The interaction between the two, as a team, is not yet known to viewers, but when Yata and Kamamoto appear in pairs, such interaction is often expected.

"No, I'm sorry! I'm happy because it's been a while since I've been in a place with you, Yata-san!"

"How do you say, we didn't do something a week ago?"

As they exchanged words, Yata boarded the location car. Kamamoto also sits next to him, pointing his camera at Yata. Yata is reminded of when he sees several staff members in the car pointing lights and microphones at him.

"So why are you already filming? Doesn't filming start after arriving at Kokujoji-san's house?"

Today's plan is to visit the villa of the renowned artist, Daikaku Kokujoji, as he told the lady from the fishmonger. Kokujoji, who was the driving force behind this "idol age" and has 98% national recognition, is a representative not only of the entertainment world but also of Japanese society. Despite the fact that it is a village, Yata was not less than enthusiastic about visiting his home.

"Well, anyway, we are going to visit Kokujoji-san's house, so it's up to the headmaster to take pictures before and after that!"

Kamamoto says that and Yata wonders, "Is that so?" Since a big name like Daikaku Kokujoji is involved, the production side may also be concerned about various things.

"The location car will go outside. Please put your seatbelt on."

Both Yata and Kamamoto wear belts at the director's call. With Yata's unsettling feelings, the vehicle slid slowly onto the national highway.

If he thinks about it later, he should have noticed it then.

++++++++++

Yata finally wondered when he got to the capital highway from the national highway and left Tokyo.

"Isn't that the destination in Tokyo?"

Kamamoto's camera keeps spinning. Behind the camera, Kamamoto's expression covered by sunglasses seemed to be different from his usual appearance. Kamamoto has a smile on his face like a sticker.

"That's right. Everything seems to be near the secret hot spring in Nagano prefecture."

"I haven't heard that."

"Oh, is that so? Well, I heard it for the first time today."

Yata takes a closer look at Kamamoto. Kamamoto is turning the camera with a smile on his face.

"Well, ok."

Muttering, Yata turned to the outside of the car.

It is in the morning on weekdays. Location cars fly down the highway at a comfortable speed. The flowing landscape becomes an overflowing nature.

The location car went off the road through the interchange.

It was the field. Far from being a figure, even houses are rare. Beyond the fields as far as the eye can see, there are three trees with bushes. It must be a rural landscape everywhere in Japan, but he didn't think it was the place where Kokujoji Daikaku's village was located.

"I see. Did you make a mistake on the road?"

"You are not mistaken! Director?"

Kamamoto speaks to him from the passenger seat in an unnecessarily loud tone. The director gave him an ambiguous answer, like "Oh.", "Yes.", which made Yata feel even more uncomfortable. The localization vehicle goes into the mountains.

The landscape that should be described as abundant extends to the left and right. Green leaves and black trees are twisted and intertwined. Behind the threadbare and rusty railing, there was a sign with words like "Take care of your life." and "Think of your family.", and Yata looked away from the vehicle window.

The rain gets stronger.

The rain and fog were turning into a storm before he knew it. Perhaps the weather in the mountains is volatile, with dense black clouds hanging overhead, and it is as dark as it is at night, even though it is close to noon. Also, it seems that he was going astray, and the interior of the car began to shake with the rattle.

Yata yells as he grabs the armrest.

"Hey! Is there really a Kokujoji-san's village in such a place?"

"Well, I heard that."

Hearing the headmaster's response, Yata made his mouth twitch. He wants to complain, but the words can't come out. Either way, he don't know the location and have no choice but to leave everything to them.

After that, when they passed a winding mountain road for several tens of minutes, the vehicle stopped.

"We arrived?"

Yata asked with relief. Kamamoto says in a cheerful voice.

"That's right. Look, it's Kokujoji-san's village!"

Beyond the windshield, when he saw the house illuminated by the lights, Yata's face was full of energy.

It was a decaying western-style building.

It used to be a magnificent building, but due to deterioration over time, the exterior has peeled off in places, exposing construction materials and pipes. It was as if the skin had been ripped off by torture and the muscles and blood vessels underneath were exposed.

Yata slammed his fist into Kamamoto's head, regardless of whether the camera was spinning.

"Ah? What are you doing, Yata-san?"

"Where is this village? No matter how you look at it, it is an abandoned castle!"

"Oh, even if I say that... What about the director?"

The director in the seat looked back as he expanded the map.

"We are not wrong, it is here."

"Isn't that the case?! In such a place, Kokujoji-san's is a great village."

Yata's protest, however, disappeared when he saw what the director was pointing at.

A figure was at the entrance of the building.

The silhouette that extends the Japanese umbrella and protects itself from the rain is familiar. Costumes similar to hunting clothes and masks that imitate rabbits. All people who belong to the largest agency, the "Tokijikuin Agency" represented by Daikaku Kokujoji, regardless of age or gender, idols or non-idols, wear this outfit. They are widely recognized as "rabbits", sometimes appearing as back dancers in the figure and sometimes as messengers from the "Tokijikuin Agency".

Kamamoto says while capturing the surroundings with the camera.

"Looks like it's here, right?"

"Ah, stupid..."

The director gets out of the location vehicle and begins talking to the rabbit. Yata also opened his umbrella and got out of the vehicle, feeling uncomfortable.

"Good morning. Welcome, you have come a long way."

The rabbit bowed politely, waving in a soft voice. Yata is confused and says hello too.

"Oh, good morning. Is this it?"

"The front is closed now. Please relax in the hall first."

The rabbit turned his back to shake off Yata's question and walked into the hall. The film crew, including the director, did the same.

"Really…"

Yata, who was left alone, began to walk quickly. Instead of keeping up with them, he no longer wanted to be alone.

When…

At the edge of his sight, he saw something white moving. Reflectively, Yata turned his gaze to him.

A white figure was standing in one of the windows lined up on the second floor of the building.

The figure, whose skin and clothing were pure white, immediately disappeared into the darkness as if he had noticed Yata's line of sight.

"……"

Yata's face was pale and alternately compared the windows of the second floor with the entrance of the building.

++++++++++

The storm doesn't seem to stop, and it gets stronger and stronger. Yata eagerly watched the sound of the rain pounding from above.

"Hey. Kokujoji-san, isn't he coming yet?"

It has been almost an hour since he passed the dimly lit room. The Rabbit guide said, "Please wait a bit." and he retired and didn't show up at all. Yata and his colleagues were completely abandoned.

He's getting angry. No matter what the "Tokijikuin Agency" is, it is impossible to treat idols from other agencies so carelessly. Yata had a personality that such irrationality could not forgive.

However, now he doesn't feel angry and just wants to go home.

Every time the light from an old lamp shining on the table casts a complex shadow on the wall, the figure in Yata's mind, perhaps the white figure above, blinks.

Yata gulps and talks to Kamamoto next him.

"Maybe he doesn't feel right? So I think it's rude to bother him, we'll re-record at a later date."

"Even if you say that..."

Kamamoto was confused and spoke to the director.

"What do you think, Director? That Rabbit, I don't think he's coming back."

The director puts his hand to his jaw and thinks. Yata looked at his figure expectantly.

"It is true that this will hinder the schedule."

"Really?!"

"Then, let's go find the rabbit."

"Eh?"

The director and other members of the film crew rose to their feet one after another. From those who handle the light to the makeup, they try to go with the director. Yata instinctively tried to stop them.

"Wait a minute! Why is everyone going?"

"As we will be looking for him, it is better to have more manpower."

"That's right, oh, yeah, then I'll go with you."

"No, if we let the actor do these kinds of tasks, the name of the show will be frowned upon. Yata-san and Kamamoto-san, you should wait here."

Just with that, the other members except Yata and Kamamoto walked out of the reception room.

"……"

Yata stretched out his empty hand and sat back on the couch.

The reception room, where the current had already been introduced, felt even colder when the equipment left. Yata flailed his legs fiercely, staring into the dim lamplight. He cannot say anything and is calm.

He feels bad because he is worried about the normal path. As an important figure in the world of idols, Yata pays tribute to Kokujoji. He is concerned about the status of the great man, not because he is afraid of this eerie western-style building.

While repeating his trembling thoughts, Yata was confident that the team or the rabbit would return as soon as possible.

And 30 minutes passed, 1 hour passed.

It seems that the rain has stopped a bit. Instead, thunder was heard more frequently. The haunting and rumbling sky sometimes casts a light similar to a flare on the window. This time, Yata realized that his body was jumping.

"It's not too late?"

Unable to suppress the trembling voice, he talks to Kamamoto. Kamamoto keeps his camera on the table in front of him, arms crossed and silent.

Yata was driven by anxiety and shook his shoulder.

"Eh? Kamamoto?"

Kamamoto lowered his head in a low voice.

"Yes."

"Don't fall asleep, fat man!"

"Hmm!" When he touched his head, Kamamoto's sunglasses slid off.

Kamamoto makes a shocked voice, dressed like an idiot with sunglasses hooked to the edge of his ear.

"What is it? What is it?"

"Idiot! The others haven't come back yet!"

However, Yata's anger did not seem to be transmitted to Kamamoto at all. He stretched out humorously, grabbed the camera from the table, and stood up.

"I'm in trouble. Then I'll search a bit!"

"Oh, why?"

The voice was about to scream, but Yata no longer has the psychological margin to worry about such things. Kamamoto scratched his head like he was in trouble.

"No, it doesn't matter what you say. If they don't come back, it's only natural for me to go looking for them, right?"

"That said, the directors have not returned. If you go, the same thing will happen, right?"

Kamamoto bowed his head and pointed the camera at Yata. Yata's face is reflected in the black lens. Kamamoto had a ridiculous tone as he clearly reflected his scared face.

"Maybe Yata-san… Are you afraid of being alone?"

"Moron!"

Yata's low kick went through Kamamoto's right knee and the giant rolled on the ground.

"Hey, Yata-san, please stop hitting me!"

"Ah! Maybe it's because I don't like your comments?"

"Just kidding! Yata isn't scared at this level! I get it!"

"I go to search..."

Yata responds with a negative voice like a different person than until now. Kamamoto stood up while rubbing his knees and headed straight for the exit.

"Then, I'll go for a bit."

Kamamoto left the room. Yata was left alone in the reception room.

"……"

He cannot hear anything but the sound of rain, thunder, and the beat of his heart. He feels restless and walk around the table for no reason. Check the clock almost every minute. Every time, he repeats the idea of ​​going round and round, why he hasn't come back yet.

At that moment, the roar of the guitar solo echoed through the hall.

"What?!"

Involuntarily, he raises a strange voice and jumps. The guitar solo echoed in Yata's bag that he had left on the couch. The fiery melody is a representative song of "Red King Idol" Suoh Mikoto, which Yata respects.

Yata took out his PDA while suppressing his heartbeat.

The incoming call was from Kamamoto. As soon as he answers the call, Yata yells at him.

"Hey, don't call suddenly!"

As he screamed, Yata felt relieved somewhere in his heart.

Kamamoto on the other end of the phone echoed the usual subtle voice without knowing such complicated psychology.

"No, I'm sorry, Yata-san. I thought it would be bad for Yata-san to be worried, so I'm sorry."

"Are you eating something?"

"Eh? No, no way..."

"You're eating! Where are you now?"

"Oh, no... it's like a kitchen."

"You're stupid! How do you eat in someone's kitchen when you visit their house? You can't do that, even if you're a visitor!"

Yata yells. At the same time, when he looks out the window, he notices that his expression has softened. Kamamoto's usual eating habits seemed to be irreplaceable and encouraging at this point.

Kamamoto says, while making a locking sound.

"Well, you often say that if I'm hungry, I can't do it, right? And I came here guessing."

"Eh?"

"I could see a figure here, so I thought it was a rabbit. It was wearing white clothes, so I'm sure it's correct."

A small shadow was born on Yata's slightly warmed chest.

A figure in white clothes.

"Hey, Kamamoto."

"Hmm? That? That, maybe..."

When he hears Kamamoto's voice as if noticing something, the shadow gets bigger as it swells.

"Wait a minute. Come back!"

"No, what are you talking about, there was a rabbit. Sorry! When can I start recording?"

There, Kamamoto's voice cut off.

The shadow fills Yata's heart. Yata clenches the sweat from his hands that slowly spreads onto his PDA.

"Hey! Kamamoto! Come back!"

"That? It's weird. Why?"

"Kamamoto!"

"Why was his neck looking away?"

Almost at the same time as those words, a wet sound echoed off his PDA.

It's like hitting a wet leather bag on the ground.

It's like squashing a rotten tomato.

A sound with an ominous premonition clung to Yata's ears.

"Kama-…!"

The calling voice was interrupted by a loud sound that pierced the tympanic membrane. Maybe that's why he dropped his PDA. He lets it go involuntarily, and Yata looks at his PDA. Notice the words "Rikio Kamamoto" floating just below the "Call" screen.

After a while of silence, the speaker began to pick up the sound of "something."

Tap. Tap. Yata notes that the sound that resonates regularly is footsteps. Facing Yata, who is stuck as if frozen, the speaker mercilessly continues to reproduce the sound of "something".

"Heh heh heh."

In the end, a sound like that of a laughing voice, and the call was cut off.

Seeing the words "End of call", Yata noticed the sweat on his back.

There is certainly "something" here.

Yata thinks about it while being driven into a panic. Can't imagine what it is. Is it related to that white figure? What happened to that rabbit and the members that went looking for him?

And Kamamoto...

"Ah!"

Clenching his fist and teeth, Yata stared at the living room door.

If Yata were alone, he would have screamed and stormed out of the reception room, rushing into mountains of thunderstorms. Not good in this situation, let's be clear. It is incredibly scary. Even now, his knees are shaking and he can't even stand.

However, Kamamoto is here. There are also directors and film crews that came with him.

If he abandons them and runs away alone, he will deny the human Misaki Yata.

"Damn!"

Yata slammed his hardened fist against his thigh. That doesn't stop the shaking of the knees, but it is something.

Thus, pain inspired Yata. He strides across the room and kicks the door open before crossing.

"Wait, Kamamoto! I'm going to help you now!"

Screaming to inspire himself, Yata stepped into the darkness in front of him.

++++++++++

Kamamoto said at the end that he was in the kitchen.

Of course, Yata does not know the layout of the building. Still, since it's a kitchen, he guesses it's somewhere on the first floor, and he walks down the hall in big surprise. The lamp, which should be from the lighting equipment, was not on, and Yata had to use the light from his PDA as a flashlight and advance terrifyingly.

Lightning and thunder roar. The entire view of the hallway was projected for a moment as if the camera's flash fired.

It's a long corridor with blood-colored ridges and bone-like walls. The portraits are evenly spaced on the wall.

As he slowly advances, Yata tries to keep the portrait out of his eyes. Because the line of sight can match. Because if he looks at them, they might laugh at him.

If he looks at a portrait, his heart may explode as if he is doing his best live. Yata still couldn't die. He couldn't die until he saved Kamamoto and the team members.

"……"

The blankness on his face means that fear outweighs courage. There is no colleague from the "Homura Performing Arts Office" who can laugh at him, they are not here at the moment. Yata has to fight both loneliness and fear.

Fold the corner twice.

Apparently it is a corridor. Maybe the kitchen is not on the first floor. If that happens, he will have to climb the stairs. That fact began to haunt Yata's thoughts.

Before entering the hall, a white figure reflected in the window for a moment flickered in Yata's mind.

Climbing the stairs means going to that figure. Yata wasn't sure he could get into such a situation even though he no longer had the courage to oppress it anymore.

When, suddenly, the door on his left moved with a piercing noise.

"Eh?"

Yata jumped to the ground in a squeaky voice.

The door opened slowly as if it had a will of its own.

The warm breeze that flowed from there caressed his taut cheeks.

He's sure it was moved by air flow or something, until he found out, it wouldn't move.

Thousands of words that are less than thoughts fill his mind. The instinct of "I want to get away from here" and the belief that "I can't abandon my friends" conflict with each other, and Yata's body tends to be rigid.

As it is, a minute has passed.

Nothing happens.

Realizing that, Yata began to move. The doorplate illuminated by the light of the PDA came into view.

The word "Dining Room" was written there.

"This is here?"

Muttering to be sure, swallowing hard, Yata opened the door.

The spacious dining room was filled with humid air. There is a long table as seen in the movie and several chairs around it. A three-pointed candelabrum on a pure white tablecloth receives the light and glows golden.

Yata scans the room while glancing at the scene. If there is a door that leads to the kitchen, that will be the goal.

The feelings of wanting to find them and not wanting to find them are in conflict in Yata. It was the manifestation of the two feelings that filled Yata's heart, the instinct of not wanting to face loyalty and the belief that he should help his companions.

Suddenly, Yata felt something crash against his toes.

It bounces and terrifyingly points the light to the ground.

It was a ham. A thick, boneless ham that appears to be around Yata's foot. There is evidence that the packaging has been broken and removed.

Kamamoto no doubt picked it up and ate it.

He had been here.

"Kamamoto?"

His voice echoed mysteriously. When he turned on the lights, the door that would lead to the kitchen was open. Yata went in there.

The kitchen floor was damp. When Yata's shoes hit the wet floor, he made a sticky noise and pulled a rope between his shoes and the floor.

The light from the PDA trembled as if Yata's discomfort was transmitted.

The previous light reflects the ground. Yata arrived when there was a trail of something crawling across the red-black wet ground.

At the same time, there is a watery sound in the kitchen.

Kucha, Juru, Picha, Nichi, Giri.

He doesn’t notice it from the sound of the rain. he could hear the sound all the time.

Jutsu, guchitsu, baki, zuru, gucha...

Maybe he didn't want to realize it. Because it was a realization of Yata's fear.

Baki, Bagi, Goritsu, Boritsu, Jururu.

However, Yata had to face realization. He thought that he had to record it in his own eyes no matter what result he was hoping for.

A trembling light crawls across the ground and follows the bloodline.

"It" was closer than he expected.

He was wearing white clothing, similar to a dress. The word "it" comes from the fact that it was so worn that it was hard to see. The hem ripped like a saw blade and dirt that has mixed in here and there has soaked it. It was probably the dirt that caused the thread to stick to the soles of Yata's shoes.

"It" seemed to turn away from him and crouch like a monkey, shaking his head vigorously. He shook his pure white hair, moving his face further and further, and moving his hands to break something.

Each time, the watery sound from before, resonates.

A familiar giant lay in front of "It"

Kamamoto's eyes, illuminated by the lights, were wide open and were no longer looking at anything.

Yata took a step back, it would be terrible to blame him for being shy. Yata's survival instinct demanded a distance from "it", just as a hunted animal would reflexively frighten. Holding his mouth with his hand, while pouring a fixed stare at "it", Yata tries to leave the room.

There was a dry sound under his feet.

"… ?!"

Yata hastily points the light at his feet.

There were Kamamoto's sunglasses. Stepped on by Yata, the lens of the sunglasses snapped in two.

He looked up from the sunglasses and saw "it", terrifyingly.

The movement stopped, as if it had frozen.

Even arms thin like dead trees and hair white like ceramic remain frozen.

The neck began to turn silently.

Slowly and precisely, like the gears of a machine. Turning sideways, diagonally back, and turning 180 degrees, it "saw" Yata.

Kamamoto's words revive in Yata's mind.

("Why is your neck there?")

Looking at Yata with only his face, with his body facing forward.

"It" moves just a little.

Random blood-soaked teeth were stained with a speckled pattern of yellow and red.

"Gaaaaaaaaaaah!"

When he noticed, Yata was sprinting down the hall of the building.

Screams of flight and senseless came from his mouth, the eyes had shed tears incessantly. He is not sure where he is going. However, he wanted to get away from that kitchen as soon as possible.

Yata slipped and fell, trying to turn the corner of the hall at full speed. He crashes into the wall and stops, reflectively looking at the darkness from which he ran.

He couldn't find the figure for "it."

However, only sound was heard.

Regularly echoing sounds and footsteps approached Yata from the other side of the darkness with a speed that shook fear.

Yata got to his feet and started running. His brain made a full rotation. Remembering the layout of the building, He try to find a way out.

As he ran down the hall, he saw a familiar sight.

This is the entrance hall he saw when he first entered the building. A ridiculously huge chandelier and a portrait of Daikaku Kokujoji on the wall of a huge staircase. Yata immediately took the door that led to the outside of the left door.

No matter how much he pushes or pull, it won't open. Even if he turned the key like crazy, kicked the door, or slammed it, the heavy door would not stubbornly move. Full of irritation and anger, Yata says, "Come on! What's this? Open up! Open up!"

However, the screaming, almost crying, stopped immediately. The footsteps were getting closer.

Hita, Hita, Hita, Hita.

Yata let go of all his emotions and ran like a ball. He refused to be there putting all his physical abilities that he refined as an idol.

Yata, who was running like the wind, soon found a bath.

When he enters, it was divided into several private rooms. He pushes open while checking with the PDA light and it slides inside.

When the lights went out, the bathroom filled with a darkness that seemed to crush him.

Yata supports his head as he shakes on the toilet seat.

("What is that, what is that, what is that?")

Did "it" eat Kamamoto?

Anger at his partner's murder swelled through his body, but much more than that, fear of the mysterious monster in front of him. The monster crawls out looking for him at this very moment. Just imagining it makes his skin rust.

After doing it for a while, Yata suddenly came up with something.

"I have to ask for help..."

Of course, the reason the idea that was taken for granted didn't come up until now is because his brain was engulfed in fear. Yata tapped his PDA with his shaking finger and first tried to contact his most trusted boss, Izumo Kusanagi.

At that moment, he heard a voice from the depths of the darkness of the hall.

"Yata-san, where are you? Please answer."

Yata stops his finger and raises his face as if flipped over. The cold, sweaty expression shone with wonder and joy.

"Kamamoto...?"

"Yata-san, please help me. I got hurt."

Without a doubt, it was Rikio Kamamoto's voice.

It has been delayed, but it cannot be wrong. Yata stood up in the bathroom of a private room and sharpened his ears.

Kamamoto's voice seems to come and go right outside the bathroom. Or maybe Kamamoto, who was lying at the time, was still alive. Perhaps he escaped from the monster and came to ask for help.

("Here! Kamamoto, I'm here! We will run away together!")

Yata hastily shut his mouth when he was about to scream.

Not out of self-protection, it was out of doubt.

Is that really Kamamoto's voice?

There is no reason. The questions equal to intuition, however, get louder and louder as he hears Kamamoto's voice.

"Yata-san, Yata-san, where are you? I'm hungry, I'm hungry, I don't care, I want to eat soon."

He had goose bumps.

No matter how much it is Kamamoto, in such a situation, he couldn't think of making such a loud voice and worrying about food.

Yata sat back on the toilet seat. He keeps his mouth closed with watery eyes to prevent any sound from escaping.

Still, Kamamoto's voice continues to call him by name. "Yata-san, where are you?"

Suddenly, Kamamoto's voice cut off.

"……"

Yata blinked. A tear drop was shed. He wondered if he was gone.

There is no way to confirm it. There is not an iota of courage to get out of there. Yata took out the PDA again and started the message app. He absolutely did not want to talk. First he would call Kusanagi, then Kusanagi would call the police.

Yata's PDA sounded with a roaring guitar solo.

"Eh?"

Suoh Mikoto's guitar solo, which he is more intoxicated with than anyone, now sounds like a devastating call from the devil. Yata hurries to look at the PDA. While cursing the idiot who made a call in such a situation, he looks at the screen regretting not having put the silent mode.

His spine froze.

The name "Rikio Kamamoto" was etched on the screen.

He hung up the call and turned off the PDA. As he did so, he thought.

He couldn't think optimistically that Kamamoto was alive. The voice from before was definitely not Kamamoto himself.

So the current call was... that "thing".

That "thing" took Kamamoto's PDA and called it, to find out where it turned on.

About the same time, he was convinced of that, there was a sound of footsteps.

Tap, Tap, Tap, Tap. He has regular intervals and gradually but surely approaches Yata.

Can't bear it. Yata decided to reject the reality in front of him.

He closed his eyes tightly. He covered his ears with both hands. Even if death falls from above one day, try not to look directly at it.

Yet in the dark, Yata thinks.

A feeling of strangeness.

A person can stop his movement of his own free will, but he cannot stop his will. The feeling of strangeness that was born in the dark grew in Yata's brain, because there was nothing else.

Why does he hear footsteps?

The floor of the building is completely strange. The kitchen was really different, but the hallways and bathrooms were filled with crimson delicacy.

The heavy boots would make steps. But that step is barefoot. No matter how fast he run barefoot, the sound should be absorbed by the relief and disappear.

So it's "it".

At that moment, there was something that shone like a revelation.

Can't stop thinking. The discovery cannot be ignored. In that sense, Yata must have been more human than anyone. Even if that means ruin, to confirm his own conscience, he opened his eyes and turned his face away.

On the bathroom ceiling, "it" was stuck.

His palm with dirty claws, every time it sticks to the ceiling, makes a "thump" sound. That was the true identity of the "steps". When he turned his head upside down, the ragged white hair was tousled. Stuck to the ceiling on all fours, "it" had bright red eyes that glowed negatively, exposing turbulent yellow and red teeth.

In the form of a predator who found Yata with no escape.

"No, aaaaaaaaaaah!"

Yata screamed with all his soul. At that moment, Yata's sight turned white.

++++++++++

"Hey! It was amazing!"

With such a voice, the door to the private room was opened.

Behind the door, the film crew, illuminated by electric lights, waited. Kamamoto Rikio holds up the camera, and a man in sunglasses and a red helmet holds a sign that says, "Don't miss it!" The man in the sunglasses looked a lot like Yata's trusted boss, Izumo Kusanagi.

"……"

Yata was watching the scene with all faces dead.

Kamamoto, who should have died, looks at a man who looks like Kusanagi while holding the camera.

"Kusanagi-san, this is…"

"I don't think there will be a reaction. So again."

He hit the sign in front of him.

"Yata-chan? Are you really okay?"

"……"

Yata cannot react.

When the man who looked like Kusanagi sighed, he left the sign to Kamamoto and entered the private room.

"Sure! The idol has a fluid face during the tea ceremony!"

Gently tap Yata's head.

"Ah! Eh, that? Kusanagi-san? Why?"

Kusanagi shakes his head at Yata, who drips confusion as is.

"That's why I told you about it for a while. It's a shocking show! The target is Yata-chan, and the tricks are us, 'Homura Performing Arts Office'."

At that moment, a figure fell from the ceiling. That monster with a shabby dress and white hair.

From "it", the horror was completely lost. She pulled her false teeth out of her mouth, tucked her white hair back, and turned her red eyes to Yata. "It" he breathed through her nose, giving a feeling of fullness to her young face.

"How was it? Was my performance terrifying?"

"Oh, you did it perfectly, Anna!"

"He was scared of you!"

Look at the friends who are raising their thumbs.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah?!"

Yata screamed as loud as he did before.

Ten minutes later.

Yata was angry at the entrance of the building, which was fully lit.

"What's that? It's terrible, Kusanagi-san! Please tell me in advance if you do this kind of thing!"

"Ahaha, Yata-chan, don't talk nonsense. If I told you, you wouldn't be surprised, right?"

"Kamamoto, you were an accessory too! I really thought you were dead!"

"Well, it doesn't matter how much food you eat there, doesn't it?"

Yata struck Kamamoto's head with all his might for the first time in a long time, gathering in his fist all the reaction of fear and anger that he had suffered.

With Kamamoto crouched on his back, Yata turns his resentful eyes on Anna.

"And Anna... even you..."

Anna suddenly looked away, perhaps uncomfortable.

"Because it was work.", Anna muttered.

So everything, it was something that had been organized from the beginning.

The place where the program will be broadcast is "Shirogin Deluxe" remains unchanged. However, it was not actually a visit to Kokujoji's house, but rather a project presented by the "Homura Performing Arts Office".

After seeing it, "Idol King" Isana Yashiro said, "This looks interesting!", And this project received the full backing of the "Tokijikuin Agency". Small dark vision cameras were installed around the building, rabbit costumes rented, and a recreational facility that was no longer in use. The words, actions and reactions Yata has done so far are said to be fully reflected.

Everything to give the Yata lens the greatest fear and obtain the best recordings.

Kusanagi happily explains.

"You know, Yata-chan has become popular lately? He's been featured in entertainment magazines and online, and some people call him 'The Red Prince'."

"Hey, what are you doing?"

"So, I wonder if that's a little different from Yata-chan's politics. I brought this project to highlight Yata-chan's original charm here."

"Eh..."

Honestly, he's not sure about politics or appeal. Yata entered this path longing for Suoh. He really hadn't been aware of how others saw him.

Such a production was the work of Kusanagi at the "Homura Performing Arts Office".

"Thanks to that, I got a good photo! Anna did a good job, and two birds with one stone."

Therefore, it would be nice if Kusanagi were satisfied with his work, although he is not yet convinced.

However, Yata looks at Anna with concern.

"Well Anna, how did you do that?"

Anna shook her head.

"Eh?"

"I see, that... was it glued to the ceiling?"

Anna turns to the side. Look at the hallway wall, put both hands on it, and climb the wall while making noise.

Yata opened his mouth.

Anna asks, glued to the ceiling and looking at Yata upside down.

"What about this?"

"No... that... how...?"

"Expert."

Anna said it with a calm face. Yata watches her like he's looking at something incredible. No, the idea occurred to him that it would be impossible to practice or that she was ignoring the laws of physics, but he felt that even doing it was unsophisticated.

"Well then, what about that? That way of turning the neck."

"This?"

When Anna's neck began to twist, Yata hastily stopped her.

"Wait! Stop! Stop! You don't have to show it!"

Anna returned her head to its original position. Looking at Yata upside down, with a smile.

"Special training."

"No, it's amazing, right?! Kusanagi-san, okay? What are you doing as an idol?"

"Yeah, well it's a subtle thing to say if it's an ant or a pear, but... Anna did her best, so ant!"

"Sweet! Are you really sweet to Anna?"

"Haha, okay, this is also an art style. Wasn't Anna's threatening role in the hallway quite realistic?"

"Yeah, well, I thought my heart would stop..."

Yata muttered that.

Of course, the rage at being cheated continues to smoke.

However, it was even stronger than that, and relief filled Yata's heart. He really thought that Kamamoto was dead, and he really thought they were going to kill him. Rather, he even remembered to praise the production team that created such high quality.

"Well I'm excited about this too. Yata-chan had a good reaction too!"

"Ah…"

When Kusanagi hit him on the back, Yata gave a dry laugh.

"The event has been completed! Please go ahead!"

A staff member who was in charge of the location car outside the building called him out. Kusanagi and other members of the "Homura Performing Arts Office" follow suit and get into the car one after another.

The rain had completely stopped and the light was shining through the clouds. Looking at him, Yata suddenly called to Anna in the seat next to him.

"Hey, Anna, you were on the second floor when we entered the building, right?"

"Eh?"

"No, you know. I saw you by the second floor window."

Anna looks at Yata saying, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Kusanagi, who had either heard or accosted him before, said with a bitter smile.

"Yata-chan, don't say weird things. No one went up the stairs."

"Ah…"

"I had no plans to use the second floor in the first place. No one should have gone."

The relief in his heart changes fast and cold.

So what did you see at the time?

Yata's neck was twisted back, as if it were a physical law. While he thought it was something he shouldn't see, he wanted to make his own discoveries, simple human curiosity.

The exterior of the desolate building. The windows on the second floor open in black at regular intervals. At one of the windows where sunlight enters after the rain, a girl dressed in white was smiling and showing her yellowish teeth.

[mikumanogi-blog]

2017-03-05 “Stagnation” Kubo Shiori Blog #7

Is there anybody who thought “today is Kubo’s blog day?”!

It’s Shiori’s blog~ (I didn’t make you wait did I…)

I thought I would try changing up my usual introduction.

 Hello everyone, Thank you for work hard again today. I’m Nogizaka46 3rd generation member Kubo Shiori.

My hair is curled.

The other day something fortunate happened.

When the makeup artist was finished hair spraying my hair the can (big size) was empty. The last person that giant can of hair spray was used on was… me. Isn’t that lucky? It rarely happens (‘._.`)

Hehehe

 First off, I want to look back at what has happened recently. Thank you so much for the 5th Year Anniversary Birthday Live.

Hito ha naze hashiru no ka?

Tsuyogaru tsubomi,

Hane Kioku,

Harujion ga suku koro,

Shiori kumo ni note,

Hause!

The 3rd generation members all stood on that stage while considering the significance behind why we were given these songs to perform.

The emotions and the scenery I had from that stage is something I will never forget for as long as I live. More than anything, seeing all the 3rd generation member towels, pen light colors surprised me...I was overjoyed. I’m a very fortunate person. Thank you.

We also did a recording for the 3rd generation song 「sanbanme no kaze」off the 17th single. Surprise…and joyfulness… (You’re probably thinking that those are the only two emotions I have, I do have a lot of other ones…) At any rate this is something I’m thankful for. The wonderful lyrics and melody, this song will forever by important to me.

I was also nervous because this was my first time doing a PV shoot, but I thought that each shoot was done with care. I received the help of many people and as my first ever shoot I was able to make it an extremely meaningful experience. Thank you very much. I want to see all my fans again. Please wait for me.  (TL note: I am assuming this is for the individual PV’s and not the music video PV)

And now… Q&A time!!!

Because I wasn’t able to do a Q&A on my previous blog I will also be answering questions asked for that blog (‘._.`)

·         Which do you like more sweet or spicy?

I like food. Recently I’ve been enjoying sweet foods!

·         Are you good or bad at physical exercise?

You probably thought I was bad at physical exercise didn’t youuu~ but that not true at all! I’m average. This year on my first sports test I was awarded an A rank!

·         Do you cook? What food is your specialty?

I may look like I do and I doo~ It makes me happy to hear my family say “delicious” after they finish eating my food.

My specialty food is…it’s hard to say, when I was younger it used to be omurice (‘._.`)

Currently my specialty is probably a type of sweet… I’m always making sweets.

·         In your middle school club, what was the toughest club activity?

Most likely the stairway dash (‘._.`) I was always sore the next day. After that was the zoo warm up (‘._.`) Duck, Bear, Seal, crocodile, , , nostalgic memories (‘._.`)

·         What are some events made a lasting impression for you from Nogizaka under construction?

There are a lot of events but, Hori Miona’s「ikimana onna」line from her version of Wakatsuki Yumi’s Hashi kun was funny! (TL note: you can find an ENG sub version on YouTube).

Speaking of Miona san, at the concert she came to talk with me. She also put up a picture of me on her blog…thank you so much. Yamazaki Rena also posted one on her blog. Thank you very much (‘._.`)

(TL Note: Kubo and Rennachi & Kubo and Miona)

Honestly, I feel shy when meeting new people, when the senior members came to talk to me, I got tongue tied. I feel guilty… I wonder if that’s why people may think things like “Kubo is hard to approach isn’t she” I’ll continue to reflect upon my weakness from the shadows.

I honestly couldn’t speak. I also have a quiet voice… Ever since I was born I’ve been a lost cause…Despite my flaws the senior members are still nice to me. I want to talk more with the senior members about various things but because of my personality it’s probably won’t be enjoyable for them…My personality is something I need to change (‘._.`)

·         I burned myself…

Are you alright!?!? Please make sure to treat it properly so it doesn’t leave a scar (‘._.`) Pain, pain go away~ While I was saying that I um… also burned myself (‘._.`) I was half asleep and I…burned my neck with a hair iron… out of all the places it could’ve been why in such an obvious spot…I will reflect upon this mistake.

·         Are there times where you are picky or obsessed about your fashion?

Umm… well, I wear what I like without fussing over the brand. Recently I’ve been liking unique clothing~ Heading into spring I’ve been buying yellow and pink colored clothes. Renka told me “You’ve become more stylish lately” I’ve decided I want to wear more and more different types of western style clothing. I’ll do my best!

·         Can you see the towels and penlights from the stage?

Of course I can see them! Every time I spot one it makes me happy. I have some good news! Because my eyesight has gotten worse my contact lens strength has gone up, this means that I can spot everyone even easier than before! Allllright, from one end to the other I’ll find you all!

·         Show me a picture of you with twin tails!

Sure, here you go!

I knew it was no gooood!

Oh no, my hair is covered by my hood and the picture is bluury isn’t it~

…I’m sorry. Self-reflection. Self-reflection.

 ·         Why were you crying together with Nakada Kana san in the dressing room?

On a silent Friday, my name was brought up by Nakada Kana san. Thank you very much (‘._.`)

First of all, she did not make me cry!!! There is a reason for why I was crying… The first time we started practicing for Principle was a time where I had anxiety over how things would turn out going forward. Then Kana san came and talked with me… we talked a lot about her personal stories from her Principle performance and the future. The details are already….. I’m crying. I wonder if I can become stronger…Can I really keep at it…What should I do…. These are the insecurities I showed in front of my amazing superior. (‘._.`) I am extremely grateful to Kana san (‘._.`) Thank you very much.

 ·         Are you someone that eats a lot?

Yes I am! One of my favorite phrases is, I want to eat____. Just the other day, for lunch, I ate bread, rice and beef stew. For dinner I ate 30 gyozas. After that I had waffles and strawberry daifuku. Oh I also had ice cream. I have a bottomless stomach. (from the title of my blog two blogs ago ‘There is no limit’)

·         Do you like bread?

I do!!!! For a while I was addicted to bread crusts, and I ate them plain. I would eat them while waiting for practice to start!

 ·         What is something you’ve been addicted to lately?

Yogurt with soy flour on top!!! I’ve been way too addicted this pairing. I could put roasted soybean flour on anything.

 ·         Favorite ice cream flavor?

Matcha!! After that is Soy flour!! Eastern style ice cream flavors are ◎ but as expected I can’t choose between them (‘._.`)

For this blog I am going to end the Q&A here!!! I’ll being doing it again in the future!

 What been going on recently? Speaking of which, I’m going to start with some of my worries. My shyness has gone too far, so far that I’ve had troubles taking pictures with other members. However, I know that a lot of fans are waiting and saying “post pictures with the other members!”… For my fans I plucked up the courage and I took my first ever three-person selfie since joining Nogizaka46.

This should be a commemorative picture. Miichan, ririan, Tsuki Taro san. Thank you so much. I hope we continue to get along. 

(TL note: I’m not sure what 月太郎 (tsuki taro) means. After some research I found that 太郎月(taro dzuki) mean first moon of the new year, so she might just be calling herself a newbie).

Next, in Manatsu san’s blog, she was asked about which member she would want to be her little sister… In her answer she wrote about me…Thank you so much, Manatsu san is so kind. On the day of the 5th Year Anniversary Birthday Live I apologized to Manatsu saying “I’m really sorry for doing ‘zukkyun’ in Girl’s Rule during Principle” and Manatsu san said “no no, it’s completely fine! If anything, I’m glad that you did! Thank you so much!” Manatsu san is so kind isn’t she (‘._.`) Thank you so much for being nice to someone like me.

Guess what, guess what, Because I I was completely sold out for the handshake event another time slot has been added. Thank you very much! I am very, very, very, VERY happy… For everyone that will come see me I’ll make sure to give you a good time.

“I’ll never be able to forget this! I want to go again! I’m cheering for you!” I’ll do my best to give you these kinds of feelings. More than anything let’s enjoy ourselves. I’m really excited to talk to everyone! I wonder if I’ll see the people I met at the meet and greet again? I’ll be waiting for you!!

 Today, for the first time in a while something happy and enjoyable happened. I was also able to make unforgettable memories.

 There’s so much I want to say but this blog has already gone on for so long… I have been told before that I really like photography and I really do. That’s why when everyone gets a hold of the new magazine I’m in I hope to bring enough interest for them to say “wow who is this girl?” I’m making sure to not slack off in order to be the kind of person that stands out in a crowd.  

Just because you work hard doesn’t mean everything is going to turn out the way you want it to, but if you don’t put in the work then it definitely won’t.

I don’t want to be someone who is all talk and no action. I want to be someone that even though they say big things they can make them into reality. Yet even though I say that I don’t have enough confidence to talk about my own dreams. I’m a coward. I will change. I will change even more.

 In the last blog I received a lot of comments giving me advice and so I based my writing for this blog on that. The opinions that I saw most in the comments were “don’t be so stiff! Relax a bit!” Thank you very much. That’s why I decided to try and make a more relaaaaxed blog this time. What do you think?

Finally one last question from the comments!

·         Out of all the 3rd generation members, which member pretends to remember something the fastest?

That person is Tamami! Wow! Tomorrow is Tamami’s blog! Make sure to give it a read!!!

Kubo will write again.

(In Minachan’s blog I was temporarily recruited for a group called Nabepa (Nabe party). It doesn’t look like we can meet up often… Maybe we should try recruiting. What do you think would be good? The members are Tamami, Minachan and Ayati, and me.)

(TL Note: Minachan is Umezawa Minami)

Kubo Shiori

https://blog.nogizaka46.com/third/2017/03/037204.php

(TL note: trying to find a good translation for a blog title was difficult, the word used in japanese is 渋滞 which can mean either ‘congestion’ ‘delay’ or ‘stagnation’, I decided to go with stagnation because after reading this blog I got the impression that she feels like her growth as a person has become a little stagnant) 

[sparklyjojos]

Joker recaps [3/3]

[tw: mentioned csa, suicide, obvious-murder-case-related-deaths, questionable treatment of the trans character]

----

Before Ryuuguu reveals his solution to the case, he asks Kirika to explain the locked rooms first.

First, the Stage of Light surrounded by snow. While everyone assumed it’d been the murder scene, the Artist actually killed Ryousho and Fuumonji somewhere else, and later flung an axe and some frozen blood to the Scene from one of the towers. The ice was melted once the reflected sunlight hit the Stage of Light, and the blood with anticoagulants would flow around like it was fresh.

Second, how the Locked Room was filled with water. The murderer must have created a thin wall made of ice that separated the majority of the room from the part near the door, filled the bigger part with water, closed the door, and simply waited until the ice melted.

Ryuuguu interrupts Kirika as he wants to talk about who the Artist is before revealing the last few locked rooms (although he still has no clue about the head in a helmet).

The key to the case is a certain theme that showed up each time a body of a writer was discovered.

Flowing blood. A mandarin orange. The yellow Room of Judgment. A weeping fig. Water. An indigo carpet. Amethysts.

Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet. The colors of the rainbow.

Like the rainbow, niji, contained in Nijikawa’s name.

Nijikawa killed seven other writers and himself, resulting in eight sacrifices. Even if his room was guarded, he could’ve just employ a simple psychological trick (a G.K. Chesterton trick, as Ryuuguu calls it), casually walked out, and the exhausted police officers would just think they hallucinated it, or fell asleep for a second and only dreamed about it.

What pushed Nijikawa Ryou to murder? It’s too late to discover the truth. The answer will forever remain in the shadows.

The curtain has fallen.

Everything ended.

--

--

The curtain was brought up once more.

--

“It was a magnificent case, Mr. Ryuuguu,” says someone from the dining hall’s entrance, and it’s only now that everyone notices the two men standing there. One is Tsukumo Juku, his long hair and sunglasses instantly recognizable, and the other is his assistant Hikimiya Yuuya.

Kirika asks just how long the two have been standing there listening.

“Since about five pages ago,” Juku answers.

“You’re going to investigate too?” a police officer asks him.

“Forgive me, but I cannot do that… since I’ve already solved this case.”

Juku then takes Nemu along and leaves for a few minutes to check a few places in Geneijo, and Hikimiya takes a moment in the library to count something in Dakushoin’s manuscript, but soon everyone gathers in the dining hall again.

Juku finally announces the Artist’s name: Satou Ichirou. One of the police officers thought to be dead in the case. Juku doesn’t explains anything just yet, instead saying that he’ll continue his reasoning after the meal.

Once the meal is done, Juku says Satou Ichirou was NOT the Artist, and while Juku’s very sorry to tarnish the name of the dead like that, he had to say it so he could observe everyone’s reactions to the news during the meal. This allowed him to make sure of the murderer’s identity.

The Artist isn’t any police officer, or any Geneijo employee, or detective, or Tae. It is someone already dead.

But before the reveal, Juku tells them that there was something that everyone missed. If you transcribe the first kanji of every murdered writer’s real name and put them in order of their deaths, you’ll get:

Ka-rei-naru-(h)o-tsura-kuno-tame-ni. “For the Great Downfall”. There should be a ‘bo’ instead of ‘ho’, but that was exactly what the symbolic dakuten was for.

As for who is the Artist... Nijikawa was unlikely to do a rainbow-themed crime, as he was likely colorblind, just like his daughter Megumi. The latter fact was easy to guess: just like it was noted in Dakushoin’s manuscript, Megumi looked at Wasserman’s innocent painting of a castle and saw a monster. Wasserman seems to have put a few secrets in his paintings that could be noticed only by a colorblind person like him… and anyone who would just happen to be always wearing sunglasses.

Juku shows everyone a suicide note signed by Nijikawa that was found in Tae’s room. The writer of the note shortly describes the crimes, claims that he wanted to poison either Miyama or Dakushoin but it went wrong, and that he didn’t kill Megumi. He wasn’t trying to fulfill the 30 elements at all. He recalls the event from when he was a child and his father, a mystery writer, murdered his wife in a drunken rage before his son’s eyes, and later fell from the stairs and died while attempting to chase the terrified child. Since then Nijikawa believed the mystery novelists were monsters desensitized to human death. He decided to infiltrate the ranks of mystery novelists and enact revenge. But soon he realized that he turned into his own father, and so chose eternal slumber.

But if we assume this note was really written by Nijikawa, then it shouldn’t be found in Tae’s room.

Everyone gathered is losing their patience a little, so Juku announces the name of the Artist:

Miyama Kaoru.

--

The note found in Miyama’s pocket said “boku mou TAErarenai”, but as far as Juku knows from reading the manuscript, Miyama only ever used the pronoun watashi. So even if it was written by Miyama, it wasn’t Miyama’s suicide note, but a fake one that she intended to put next to Nijikawa’s body.

Miyama’s death wasn’t suicide, but neither was it a murder. At the time of her death at 3 am, Miyama happened to be in the middle of arranging a scene of Nijikawa’s “suicide” for later, standing on a chair and tying a noose. She couldn’t have predicted that a sudden earthquake would make her lose balance in the most unfortunate way possible.

But before she died, Miyama still managed to arrange Dakushoin’s death: she put a thick sheet of ice on top of two taller statues, towels on top of that, and Dakushoin drugged with sleeping pills on top of that. The ice eventually melted, making Dakushoin fall and get impaled on another statue.

Nijikawa’s death, on the other hand, was simply suicide.

Megumi’s death was accidental. She slip and fell after being startled by… something (Juku carefully doesn’t elaborate, but Ryuuguu suspects that the ‘something’ may have been Shouri knocking on the door, and Juku doesn’t want the boy to blame himself.) She hit her head on the floor, and the impact made the flower pot fall off the shelf and hit her again. Since she broke her left wrist falling, she had to use her right hand to write the message.

As for that upside-down painting of Mother Mary, Miyama as a Christian just couldn’t help but make it look proper.

Since Miyama was good enough in baseball pitching to teach it to Shouri, it would also make her able to accurately fling the axe and frozen blood to the Light Stage.

Dakushoin brought attention to facts like that in his manuscript, almost like he knew and desperately wanted someone else to realize the truth. In fact, there was a random poem inserted after the scene of finding Megumi’s body, and the first syllables of each line made the sentence “ko-no-ka-ba-tsu-ha-shin-ji-tsuwo-tsu-ta-e-te-i-ru...”, “this Kabatsu [a shortened name of the manuscript] is conveying the truth”. Similarly, reading the names of each big chapter of the sadly unfinished manuscript revealed a message: “Han-nin-no-na-ma-e-ha” (“the name of the culprit is...”), proving that Dakushoin knew the truth.

The message was so well hidden that only someone specializing in reading the intention of a writer would be able to find it.

But wait! There’s more. Juku shows everyone the 99 cipher and points out a tiny line near one of the numbers. If you read the numbers left-right, top-down (so in the normal Western manner) and stop at the line, you’ll have read 82 numbers, exactly how many numbered subchapters there is in Dakushoin’s unfinished manuscript. The prologue had 4 subchapters, the 6 normal chapters after that had 13 subchapters each. Dakushoin probably wanted to write another ‘prologue’ and another chapter afterwards, which would bring the total of subchapters to 99. One for each number in the cipher.

If you write down the title of each subchapter in hiragana and pick the consecutive character the number in the 99 cipher points to, and also read it backwards, you’d get a message…

[missing part] Kare wo sodateta tokushuna kankyou ga kare wo shite renzokusatsujin he to hashirashimeta no de aru. Nijikawa no shi ha jisatsu. Ta no hankou ha kare naraba jyuubun ni ji(tsu)kou ga kanou de aru.

Translation:

[missing part] Unusual circumstances in which he grew up pushed him to serial killing. Nijikawa's death is suicide. If the other crimes were [commited by] him then this could be an accident.

Of course Dakushoin couldn’t know about Nijikawa Ryou’s future death – who he meant by ‘Nijikawa’ here was Nijikawa Megumi. He correctly assumed that Miyama would be able to kill everyone else but not the girl. He wasn’t that off on the ‘suicide’ part, since Megumi’s death was technically caused by her own actions. Dakushoin probably didn’t know about Miyama’s gender and so used the incorrect pronouns. If he had a chance to write the last 17 subchapters, their deciphered titles would probably directly accuse Miyama Kaoru.

--

But the case reaches much, much deeper than that. Dakushoin was smart, but wasn’t able to notice a certain astounding series of coincidences. The events of the case – the way Dakushoin wrote it, even – were all foreshadowed a thousand years ago in the famous work The Tale of Genji.

Out of 53 chapters of The Tale of Genji, each one’s title was somehow referenced inside Dakushoin’s manuscript. Some are more obvious (aoi, kirigirisu, sakaki…) and some are deeply convoluted worplays on details like what exactly the characters ate or what was the name of a random police officer’s girlfriend that was only ever mentioned once. [Juku spends entire pages going through FIFTY THREE CHAPTER NAMES and explaining whatever horrible pun is related to it. It’s kinda amazing.]

When everyone is still stunned, Juku says that from this moment on even he’s not sure of his reasoning, but he believes he knows the truth. He turns to Teru and asks:

“Mrs. Mamiya, wouldn’t Miyama Kaoru happen to be your and Kirigirisu Tarou’s child? Or should I say, your and Hirai Genji’s.”

Teru can’t deny that. She guessed that Kirigirisu was her Genji, but decided to keep quiet. Hirai Tarou admits he knew about Miyama’s true identity too, but couldn’t recognize his brother after all these years.

Since the man was named Genji, then he obviously could name his child Kaoru, just like the legendary Genji’s child was called. The pen name ‘Miyama’ is fairly close to ‘Mamiya’ as well, as if intentionally chosen. Miyama apparently knew the identity of her mother. After Genji and Teru split, they left the baby in Geneijo, and Hirai Tarou had to give it up for adoption. Maybe Miyama’s motive was a revenge on Geneijo itself, the place in which she had been so profoundly rejected.

--

After everyone but the detectives leave the dining hall, Juku adds that, intentionally or not, the Geneijo case managed to fulfill all the 30 elements from Dakushoin’s list.

The others think that maybe if they were as capable as Juku, they could prevent the last few tragedies… but even as they thought about the past, they had to keep moving forward and finally leave Geneijo behind.

Hoshino Tae leaves Geneijo too, having both lost and learned so much.

--

--

On 31st December that year, a day before Tsukumo Juku is supposed to leave for England, he returns to Geneijo carrying flowers for the dead.

He’s not the only one there. The First Group’s leader Yaiba Somahito is already waiting there in silence. After some pleasantries Yaiba says that he checked the Geneijo case files once more and noticed that Dakushoin had been found to have terminal stage cancer. The man truly put the rest of his life into his writing – for the sake of a grand downfall.

As an aside, Yaiba also contacted Dakushoin’s editor and learned that there was some other book planned that Dakushoin’s sister Nagisa was supposed to be writing under a weird pen name, “Seiryoin Ryusui” or something like that.

Yaiba and Juku stand in silence for a few moments before Yaiba asks:

“Tsukumo, why did you lie that Miyama Kaoru was the Artist?”

“What do you mean, Mr. Yaiba?” Juku’s voice is still beautiful, but without its usual warmth.

Yaiba shows him an envelope with a message saying just “Please help me. TEL”. TEL was Teru’s signature. She knew Yaiba and tried to summon his help, but Yaiba returned to Japan from a case too late to read it in time.

Yaiba explains in a voice full of sadness: “Miyama Kaoru was mine and Mamiya Teru’s child. 22 years ago, my family was employed by Geneijo. My father was the butler before Kosugi Kan. When I was 12, Mamiya abused me. Since I know from her that Hirai Genji wasn’t able to have children, only I can be Miyama’s father.”

In The Tale of Genji, Kaoru wasn’t actually Genji’s biological child, but was fathered by another character, Kashiwagi. Kashiwagi was also the last name Yaiba once had.

Yaiba is convinced that Juku’s meta-reasoning told him the truth about the case and he just disregarded it in favor of a fake explanation. Yaiba’s only question is why. Was Juku protecting the actual culprit? There was obviously someone else who could commit the murders – the only other person who trained their baseball pitching well enough: the butler’s son Shouri. That’s why some tricks seemed childish. That’s why Shouri was hanging around in the greenhouse before a murder was committed there.

Juku finally admits that the true culprit of the case was Kosugi Shouri. But at the same time, this wasn’t the truth. Shouri may have been the “perpertrator”, but it’s unthinkable a boy like him would come up with the entire plan on his own. There was a mastermind; a frightfully powerful someone.

This case is truly unsolvable. Finding a solution would probably require them to unravel the strings that hold the world, the story and all the mysteries together, would take some sort of divine reasoning.

Dakushoin knew about it too, and put one last clue in his manuscript; maybe even by sheer writer instinct more than actual knowledge. A well hidden “AB ; 10101011” that seems like a random error of the word processor. AB meant 171 in hexadecimal, and 10101011 meant 171 in binary. 171 = i(chi)-na(na)-i(chi). Inai, meaning that something doesn’t exist. There was also a seemingly random part named Kimi~1/2 Hanashi. Kimi ½ = a half of “kimi” [“you”] = half-person = literally a han-nin = hannin [culprit].

Hannin ha nashi = “There is no culprit”.

Lost in thought, Juku looks up at the sky for a long time.

Yaiba still wants to know the ultimate truth, and Juku says that this shall stay a secret between them just like Yaiba’s past. Juku can only give one clue -- the personality of the mastermind can be derived from answering a few questions: who would want there to be so many misdirections and tricks? Who would want there to be a lot of unexpected twists in the case?

Juku adds that after the case was done, Hikimiya led by his detective instinct counted how many times each writer’s full name showed up in the manuscript. 37 for each of them. 37 = mi-na [“everyone”], so if everyone had ‘the same 37 times’ worth of mentions, then maybe the message was that “everyone is the same”. Anyone can be anyone. Maybe it means that all the categorizing of people based on their race, gender and so forth is meaningless; people are in the end just people.

The two detectives finally leave Geneijo and the story.

--

(There is one more chapter after that, called the Phantom Chapter. It’s long and poetically complicated, but the gist of it is that the story rests in the hands of the reader. For example, if a Reader stops reading the book in the middle out of boredom, then as far as that Reader is concerned, the true criminal is someone else. If after long years a Reader will forget the disliked parts, the story will show another face, and the Reader will think the true criminal is someone else.

The last answer bestowed by the godly detective isn't certain. Nothing is certain. Knowing this, the Readers may decide for themselves how they want to explain things. (For example, what if all the misdirections were in fact the signatures of the culprit(s)?)

The truth can be understood only by the reader who – as the narration prompts in the end – uses the 99 cipher to discovered the missing part of Dakushoin’s long message, using the titles of the last 17 sub-chapters of this 99-subchapter-long book called Joker:

Shin-han-nin-ha-da-re-de-mo-i-i-no-de-aru

The true culprit can be anyone.)

THE END

[missbrightsky]

Chasing Tails

Fics Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Chapter 10: Morrigan

I had never seen Rhysand this frantic.

He burst into the front hall of our house a half-hour ago, nearly out of his mind with worry.

It took him several minutes to become coherent enough for us to understand what had happened. And another few minutes for him to convey what we needed to do.

“Rhysand, are you sure about this?” Azriel questioned.

“Yes,” he replied with a nod, “I know it sounds crazy, but I swear to the Caldron that the cat looked at me and begged for help.”

We all knew Tamlin and how much of an asshole he is, but it sounded like he had played by Feyre’s rules. Cassian looked excited; it didn’t take much to get him involved with a scheme against Tamlin.

I exchanged a glance with Azriel, gaging each other’s emotions. We both loved Feyre and wanted the best for her, and Tamlin O’Toole was not the best for her. “If it’s her contest, can’t she just call it off and retrieve her cat?” Azriel coolly suggested. “She’s her own woman with her own fortune, she doesn’t have an extreme need to marry Tamlin.”

“Tamlin could hold her cat until she assents to his proposal,” Cassian said, “Now that it’s in his possession, you know there’s no way he’ll let it go without Feyre’s hand in marriage.” Rhys blanched at the possibility. I honestly wondered if he was going to faint from the stress.

I nodded, agreeing that Tamlin will never give up on something that he set his mind to. We’ve had one too many run-ins with him over property disputes.

“Then we go in and get the cat,” I said, pouring steel into my spine. “Feyre is our friend and if Rhys says that her cat needs us then godsdamnit, we’re going to rescue that cat.”

 Shadows gathered in the corners of the alley and under the eaves of roofs. After a few hours of arguing, we finally agreed that all of us would need to be involved to get the cat out. I originally wanted Rhys to stay far away from Tamlin, but Azriel deemed him necessary to cause a distraction.

Az and I waited to the side of the house, watching Cas and Rhys walk up to the front door. As soon as they would engage Tamlin, Az and I would creep around the back and enter through the back door. Careful observation showed that all the servants were busy prepping for dinner in either the kitchen or dining room. Thank the Caldron that Tamlin decided to have a house with a lot of windows to show off his wealth.

Rhys’s firm knock traveled over the lawn and echoed throughout the house. A butler peeled off from evening preparation to answer.

“Tell Mr. O’Toole that Mr. Night has urgent business with him,” his voice edged with steel rang out.

The butler's reply was too quiet for us to hear but the wide windows showed the two being led into the parlor on the opposite side from us. Time to go.

The wrought iron fenced wrapped around the entire property, leaving only narrow alleys between it and the neighboring townhomes.

Thankfully the carriage gate in the back was already open and the gravel expanse was void of any servants. One door was slightly cracked, golden light and warm smells pouring out of it, the kitchen where the servants all were.

It was almost too easy to slink up to the formal back door and ease it open. it swung open on silent hinges, a small blessing. The hallway beyond was dim and empty, a seldom-used passageway. Brighter light shone at the end of it, opening into one of the rooms of the house.

Loud steps thundered down the stairs, Tamlin. His voice sounded at the front of the house, greeting Rhys and Cassian coldly, questioning why they were calling.

An argument started up, slightly muffled but it was easy to tell that it wasn’t a pleasant conversation.

I let Az lead the way, creeping forward on silent feet while I watched our backs for any sign of movement from the doorways. Constant chatter could be heard from the kitchen, the servants unaware of the intrusion.

The hallway gave way into a small sitting room, cramped with furniture. We had to dance and twist our way through, sticking to the rugs to avoid any creaking floorboards. The door on the right side was closed. I gave Azriel a nod to proceed, eyeing the way we came for a quick escape if we were heard. As soon as he opened the doors, the voices became louder, almost as if Rhys could sense our need for cover.

The large entryway was bisected by the stairway to the second floor, a chandelier lighting the way. Across from us, shadows danced on the wall as the dining table was set for dinner. No one paid any heed to the intruders across the hall, peeking around the door frame. The other side of the wall where we were was the source of the argument, angry voices going back and forth, round and round.

“I have several eyewitnesses putting you at my warehouse last night,” Rhys seethed, “So I will ask you again, what were you doing there?”

“Nothing of importance to you, Rhysand,” Tamlin shot back, infuriated. “I don’t believe you own the alleyway as well. I don’t need to explain myself to you.”

Keeping close to the wall, I eased forward until the edge of the room pressed against my shoulder. Inclining my head forward, I could see Tamlin’s back to us, just as we planned. Rhys and Cas took up defensive positions against the wall the abutted the room we were just in. Keeping Tamlin’s focus on them and not on the entryway behind him or on the reflection of the windows. They needed to rile him enough that he was deaf to the world around him.

I retracted and gave Az a small nod, we were clear to go up the stairs. No footsteps sounded above us indicating anyone on the second floor.

The stairs were thankfully also carpeted, muffling any steps or creaks that could give us away. I held my breath the whole way up. We were completely exposed to anyone that came into the hall. We needed to be fast but not sloppy.

Once we reached the top and were around the corner, only then did I release the air that was tight in my chest. Az’s tight face relaxed a fraction, as if he was holding his breath too.

The arguing voices continued downstairs.

We had reached the hardest task.

Earlier Az had scaled the neighboring townhouse, the owners still thankfully out of town. The vantage point from the roof had revealed what we all dreaded.

There was a servant guarding the cat at all times. She was in a cage placed in the middle of the room with someone sitting by her. Az had watched long enough that if the guard needed to leave, they called for someone else to take their place so that she was never alone.

Whether this was to protect against thieves or to make sure the cat didn’t try to escape by itself, it presented a problem.

Cassian had been in favor of knocking the person out.

“Not enough to kill them, just so that they would be out for a bit,” he argued. “They might just have a small headache when they wake up,” he added with a cringe.

“No,” Rhys said firmly, “We can’t resort to violence, that could cause a whole new slew of problems.”

“Then how do we get them out?” I asked, my brow furrowing.

“Distract and evade,” Az said, “Basic burgling techniques.”

We all looked at him, waiting for an explanation. And maybe in slight surprise at his thievery knowledge.

He continued, “We know that all the servants will all be downstairs prepping for dinner except for this one. Tamlin is anticipating at least someone trying to grab the cat, why would he put a constant guard on it otherwise?” We nodded, following his logic.

“Either Mor or I will cause a sound in a room close by. The servant will know that they’re the only one upstairs and go and investigate since the others are busy downstairs. I’m willing to bet that they won’t want to cause a commotion if it turns out to be nothing and Tamlin is already seeing red with Rhys and Cas downstairs.”

Counting the doors, we stood outside the study where the cat and the guard was. Right on cue, Cassian escalated the fight, knowing that we need Tamlin to not hear the noise upstairs because he would come storming up. I pressed myself into an alcove partially hidden by a tapestry while Az continued on. We decided that he would be the one to cause the noise while I released the cat. He could stay quiet even when moving fast, an inherent talent that annoyed us to no end when we played hide-and-seek as children.

I would be the one to release the cat in case it was jumpy around men after being snatched.

Or cat-napped, I inwardly joked with myself. Not now, Mor, I scolded.

A thump sounded down the hallway. My heart pounded, waiting for the hitch in voices downstairs. The shouting continued without pause.

A few feet away, the door to the study opened, flooding the hall with light, broken up by a shadow. “Hello?” came a sweet voice. A woman servant then was on duty. Good thing we shot down Cassian’s idea to knock them out. She stepped fully out into the hallway, looking both directions for the source. I pressed further into the wall, willing her to go towards where Az should be climbing out the window by now.

Ka-thunk.

Footsteps retreated down the hall, she was taking the bait. I slipped out my hiding spot and treaded towards the door, keeping an eye out if she returned.

My hand alighted on the door, twisting the knob.

It didn’t move.

I twisted harder, maybe it was old and got stuck. It still refused to move.

Shit, she locked it. I knelt before the door, my hands becoming cold and clammy with sweat.

Quick, quick, quick, my thoughts beat in time with my heart. Every second passing by brought me closer to the return of the servant. I slipped a pin out of my hair and into the lock.

Come on, come on… I only had experience picking locks when I needed to break into Cassian’s room, how different could it be?

There. The lock turned back and I twisted the handle.

The room was lit with a few candles, a wide mahogany desk sat against the left wall, bookshelves covered the room.

My eyes settled on the cage.

The empty cage.

I closed the door behind me, locking it again to buy a few seconds when the woman came back.

Shit, fuck, shit, where did the cat go?

A small sound drew my attention. I scanned the room again.

There, by the window. Feyre’s cat was waiting patiently by the window. She tilted her head as to say What took you so long?

So that’s what Rhys meant when the cat could almost speak to you. I shot back an unimpressed look, annoyed by the near heart attack it gave me by escaping the cage by itself.

It rose to its feet, turning to face the window, as if it already knew the next step of the plan.

“You’re welcome, you know,” I quietly grumbled to it, unlatching the window and swinging it open.

The cat let out a small trill and rubbed against my thigh in thank you.

“Not fair,” I whispered, scratching lightly behind her ears. “Off you go then, I expect you want to get out of here.”

The cat gave me one more meaningful look and prepared to make the leap to the nearby rooftop, bunching up its muscles.

This was the part of the plan we were least certain about. We knew the cat was intelligent, it had survived all those months of being chased, but we were unsure of how to get it out of the house. It would be hard to sneak it back out the way we came, especially if it didn’t want to be picked up. Rhys, in the end, had been the one to suggest opening the window and letting it determine how to getaway.

The cat wiggled its body one more time, a final adjustment before leaping into the night air and landing silently on the neighbor’s rooftop.

Footsteps appeared in the hallway, approaching the room fast. Time for me to make my exit.

I swung out the window, closing it once I had my balance on the small ledge. I sent a prayer to the gods that the ivy-covered trellis would hold my weight as I climbed down. My head disappeared from sight just as the door opened.

The wood groaned beneath my feet as I eased myself down. Any noise I made was covered up by the maid cussing a surprising amount and then hurrying off to break the news to Tamlin. I cringed inwardly, feeling bad for the tongue lashing she is certain to get. Hopefully, she wouldn’t lose her position in the house.

Just as my feet touched the ground, a roar of anger nearly shook the windowpanes.

And that would be Tamlin.

Az was waiting for me, we needed to exit through the carriage gate before every servant in the house was sent out the recapture the cat. We crouched ran along the house, checking around the corner before making a dash for the gate and into the streets beyond.

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