Chapter Text
The civil war ended static, and devoid of life. It was an Impact that shocked the entirety of Kivotos, the people have started shattering like flies. Maybe it was the built up karma of this world that made this place so much more dangerous, but honestly, I think it’s better off that way. That was the end of my first year in Trinity General School, a tragedy that was completely unforeseen and completely devastating. So much so my mind had become desensitized of the slick stain of death.
I am Shimoe Koharu. I wish I forgot that name as that isn’t who I am anymore but that’s just the state of affairs I was tugged into. The 24-Hour-Civil-War broke out before the Impact, the cause I still haven’t been able to parse. Despite my then dense nature, I knew Trinity was prone to frivolous conflicts but at this magnitude something internal must’ve stirred. Something sinister, maybe blood had stained the walls of the Tea-Party inner sanctum. That aside, I saw the cobbled-streets and posh buildings erupt into flames and become smoke in bulbous explosions. The world was in slow motion to me, I never knew a battle to surpass the Eden Treaty could happen, and by its own hands too. At that moment, I walked down the suffocating streets to help whoever I can, as I was an elite. Seeing the shattered windows and the polluted red sky, I knew the world would never be the same. The putrid smell of burnt pastries slurried with the ashes of our past, the jagged contorted remains of it all.
The people I saw and attempted to help were beyond help, even if I thought otherwise. Many bloodied, many with bones protruding from places it shouldn’t. Many were still alive before the Impact and their suffering was clear like the shattered windows. The-Remedial-Knights tried to help, I knew it, I tried to order and signal them the best I could as any semblance of order from the Tea-Party and Justice-Task-Force were scattered and diced up. To see, to hear, to smell, to touch the mortally wounded, it was a despair I didn’t know could be possible. It was hollowing, but I had hope, of course.
And then despair. The wartorn streets with the Sanctum-Tower visible in the distance now-turned deep red by the unending smog. The collapsed buildings lean and lay in rubble but it all looked like jagged wooded stalagmites. There was a large one pointing towards the peak of the Tower in the central city leaning to the right. I thought I’d gain a bit of respite from this sight, since already the civil war started to die down, but–
It was a distant thump to my right, something I couldn’t see because of the encasing buildings. As I continued to stare, the dark silhouette of Hanako had stabbed into the largest stalagmite spraying glistening red fluid all into the air. Her chest had grown a wooden spike, and her pink halo dissipated into the air in an instant. The smog had started to clear, letting moonlight glow down onto me, and revealing the white splendor of the Tower. I saw Hanako glow by the light; her body becoming a new halo for Kivotos. And then, I saw darkness.
+=+=+=+=+
Then the next year came, and as a collective agreement from the entirety of Trinity, we were unified into a single faction. Not like that in itself mattered, as it was later confirmed that Nagisa and Seia had been assassinated by an unknown assailant. Both the leader of Filius and Sanctus, dead, now Pater is the dominant faction. I myself do not care, it doesn't matter to me. I don't care about the fact that Mika might've been the perpetrator. How she could do such a thing gives me doubt to such possibilities. But the fact she has laid low ever since also gives me worry. What does matter: I have left the Justice-Task-Force despite consistent opposition from the new president Ichika, who has noted my achievements in helping the victims of the civil war. Another worry is the whereabouts of my fellow classmates and their fate. I for sure know the Knight's are alive and well, with even Mine still standing as the president despite her status as Alumni. But the fate of my friends are uncertain. I even have nightmares imagining the gruesome death of each and every one of them. But Hanako is the one that gets replayed in my head the most. I will never forget her body illuminated by the Moon's sky. Her body has become a halo for Kivotos.
Now I sit in this bar contemplating whatever existence I have left for this world. It's certainly unlike anything that of Trinity. As in, the walls are painted in reflective black and there're neon signs propped up depicting famous drinks or dated references to the culture of then. Circular tables dotted around but leaving an opening in the middle with the massive sigil of this bar, which is named “Convex”. I myself am sitting at the front, head leaning down at the hard wood table supported by my hand. So many drinks, yet I don't know what to drink. So many colors, with such a pungent smell. That of beer, of vodka, maybe a bit of Tequila for the bold. So little people, bars like these tend to be fairly lacking as not many people are keen to the idea of drinking. I, though, drink to forget the lost souls that scurry in this graveyard of a school campus.
The bartender approaches, appearing sullen, but with a hopeful smile. I have yet to order, as I had just entered a moment ago. Her hair is beige and tied up in a bun. I notice a white spiraling wing clipped on her hair. She looks familiar, who is she? She takes notice of me, gasping.
“Koharu?” She says, “Koharu?!”
“Huh?” I say, “Who… Hifumi.”
It's Hifumi, the one who brought me to the late Make-Up-Work-Club, working as a bartender. She's alive, as such, I sigh.
“You're okay,” I say, “You're okay.”
Tears flow down, I can't help it.
To see at least one friend okay, that's enough. I felt enough, I can't take it! My nails are deep in my hair, elbows resting. Clear blobs of salty water tapping down onto the table. Hifumi isn't saying anything it seems, seeing me so weak. So weak. I hear her sigh, it must be a sign.
“I'm glad you're okay as well,” she says, “everything has been so awful, for all of us.”
“Hanako's dead, Mika's gone, half of trinity's in ruins,” I say with sniffs and hicks between, “the whole world is awful!”
“Right, you especially must've been so tired,” she says, “you've been so busy helping everyone.”
“And, what did that get me?” I say, “All I got was Ichika breathing down my neck about me re-joining the Task-Force.”
“You helped me in the end, I guess, ahaha,” she says, “I almost died, you know, if you didn't signal the Remedial-Knights it would've been… bad.”
I raise my head, my eyes baggy and red.
“Ah, I guess there's that,” I say, “I appreciate it, really. I wanna drink, though. Just get me a draft IPA, I don't care.”
“Draft IPA? You, certainly have taste,” she says, “so you’ve been drinking for a while huh.”
“Have you been drinking?” I say, “you don't seem all that phased by the war. So. How are you holding up?”
She grabs a mug from below and walks to the rows of levers that spew the delicious hoppy brown fluid.
“Still dealing with the aftermath, and even worse, they want me to be the representative for Filius,” she says, “I guess that was Nagisa's wish.”
She tilts the mug and pours the beer.
“For you it was Hanako,” she says. The lever turns off, the mug full of dark-brown fluid and delivers it right beneath my chin.
“For me, Azusa,” she says, “I don't like talking about it, but at this point…” She sighs quickly, more like a huff, then a sniff. Her smile still remains.
“We have something to remember for the rest of our lives,” she says, “Right?”
We snicker and cry, rejoicing at our own pain. It's so relieving, she never had tried to contact me until now. And now I know why, and now I know how our situations are just so mutual. But I know we'll see each other plenty, this is our sacred place. I take a heavy drink of the IPA, in a bittersweet moment of respite.
It was moments later, and three drinks of IPA in an ABV of about eight percent now in my system. The bar remains the same, but I feel quite light and a little free. All the senses are brought out, vision sharpened but still muddy. I already know what alcohol does, I drank more than this one time actually, and I have barred myself from doing that. I know the streets of Trinity are the safest they’ve ever been since the civil war cleared out so much of the gangs and trash that plagued us. I think I’ll be safe, probably, I can’t feel my legs all that well though.
“You look tired, are you sure you’ll be okay?” Hifumi says, “I can call a taxi if you want.”
“I wish we still had Sensei around,” I say, “But…”
“I know, I almost–” she says, “If he were still here we wouldn’t have gotten into this big of trouble.” The Sensei that has descended on us to help our club up and disappeared a ways before the Civil-War and Impact happened. I wish I mentioned this earlier but we all happened to start living without him just fine. Much to the dismay of some other students.
“He’ll come back, I know he will,” I say, “He just… left, for a bit.”
“Maybe,” she says, “I still cry in my sleep.”
“The souls of the lost are too, everyday,” I say, “I see them swirling around me like mist.” I nod off a little.
“I think it’s time to go,” she says, “Do you really not need a taxi?”
I stand up from the black cushioned stool and pull up my black blazer up all the way. I’ve lost the will to look so skimpy, it reminds me of the past too much. Too embarrassing.
“I left cash on the table,” I say, “Return the change when I come back.” I turn around and look at Hifumi, the room sways as I lock eyes. We both smile, as we both know our pain. And so, I exit the bar through the automatic door. I remember a saying from my wistful dreams.
You’re sorrow is mine, that I know,
I shall be your guide, your star.
I don’t know your infernal days,
I can only be your clear prismatic water.
So I will pass it all on to you.
Keep your dignity.
Thankfully, the war torn streets of Trinity are in the distant nightmarish past. The cobbled streets have returned and the posh red brick building has also been reconstructed. Although, the students of Trinity have decreased all too much, the empty streets says enough. Now in the outskirts of Trinity, formerly streets like these have become what the Task-Force calls Battlefield-Zones which has no meaning of the actual definition, only shattered war-relics. Getting to my room is all too easy, but my vision is becoming blurry, and movement slurred and slippery. The details of the buildings which should be separated and saturated is being dim and cool; I drank too much. My stomach isn’t churning thankfully but there’s a strange uncomfortable savory taste in the rear of my mouth. Somehow distinctly vomit-like, but the last time I’ve thrown up was when I saw my first corpse in this very street.
To walk these streets without any danger is freeing, no one is out to pump me full of holes in a sliver of a moment. Everyone is afraid of repeating the same tragedy after the Impact.
I can’t take it, my mind’s swirling too much. I rest myself on a streetlight embracing it tight.
“It’s so hopeless, I wish I can feel again,” I whisper, “To see is so tiresome, to smell and to touch makes my stomach curl…”
My breaths become quick, my collarbone cold from the metal pole. This isn’t enough to make me cry, it makes me feel grossly small. My breathing slows, the cold calming me down too. Standing still really is the best remedy. I need to get back home, now, though. Just three IPAs, it wasn’t all that strong. I let go and stumble through the road. My vision becomes more blurry, and my eyes droopy. I groan in a high pitch, my mind nearly blanking. In the distance the same blurry warm colors and red blobs separate into a strange figure. I can’t see, who is that? Is that even a person? It’s holding something dark, something rectangular. My legs go numb, my eyes turn blind, and… I feel warm in my pants.
And then darkness.
+=+
The fact that the chroma, the nameless gods, whatever happens outside of Kivotos didn’t take notice of our vulnerable state speaks a metric ton. Whatever is going on, they might’ve disappeared. Only speculation.
I remember my infernal days of yesteryear, being subjected to the humiliation rituals that I myself dug into. The people that fostered it, the people that ultimately gave me hope.
The people that gave me happiness within my own darkness, are gone.
That’s why I resort to vapid pleasures meant only for the most desperate, because I am desperate. I want to feel like myself again, not this empty shell. I wish I was. I wish I am.
I don’t want to become a new halo for Kivotos like Hanako.
That’s my resolve. My fears will guide me to the new dawn. So, I pray in my sleep.
+=+
An earth shattering pulse resonates in my head, it throbs like mad. It hurts! And I must ask why? This is, the pratyaya of my actions because I remember: I drank too much. I awaken on the floor with a particularly large stain on my scarlet skirt. I wonder when I’ll stop doing that when I drink. I sit up legs spread from my crotch and feet planted on the floor, the skirt creating a grooved curve. That’s not the issue, where am I? There’s quite a few pieces of paper scattered on the floor, with musical notes pasted in black ink. To my right, a twin sized bed fills out the corner, it looks quite modestly grey with the bedding having frills. It’s cute. It turns out the floor is actually carpeted in beige, so it seems like I rested a little better than if I had not. To my right is a wooden desk with a computer set up. Doesn’t look all that flashy, basic modern black all round. There seems to be a massive stack of paper on the desk though, it doesn’t look ordered, many of the corners stick out waiting to slice your arms. At the end of the desk near the door a black case rests with brass metal corners. A modest room, I’ll say. Nothing special.
“Why am I admiring this room when I probably just got kidnapped?” I say, loud.
The door swings open and there I saw a guy with short brown hair, slightly curled at the ends. His eyes are red with a strange inscription within the reflective layer. He wears a blue polo shirt and gray pants. He doesn’t look like Sensei.
“You’re awake! Thank goodness!” He says.
“Sensei?” I say, “Ahaha, I can’t believe you’re back.”
“Schale’s Sensei?” He says, “I’m sorry, I’m not him. I know guys like me are a rarity around here.”
“Then, who are you?” I say, “Are you some other weird adult that’s posing as Sensei?”
“Adult?” He says, “Well, I guess you could call me one, I’m only eighteen though.”
A brief silence commences, the strange weird guy scratching his chin. Did people like this even exist? I thought Sensei was the only real guy here aside from the animal creatures that live here. But, deep down, something deep ignites inside me. I feel, alive somehow. He looks at me again.
“I saw you stumbling outside at night yesterday, and, collapse,” he says, “I even saw you uh, you know peeing yourself.”
“And what, don’t blame me for–” I pause, “Why did you even bring me here, you pervert!”
“Aha, the Justice-Task-Force was closed and I couldn’t just contact KSPD so late at night, you know, so,” he says, “I had to leave my trombone on the streets to carry you and then come back.”
“And I should be thankful?” I say, “You were probably thinking of doing lewd things with me while I was asleep.” I wonder why I said that, it never happens, I never thought I would go back to my old self in an instant. My face goes red and my eyes sharpen into that of a cat and then, I take a deep breath and cool down.
“Maybe you’re just overthinking it?!” He says, “I didn’t mean any harm, you know. I didn’t want you to be alone in the cold.”
“I didn’t think anyone would try to help me,” I say, “they always asked me to help.”
“Oh, I didn’t want to mention it,” he says, “Koharu, the one that saved so many people during the civil war.”
“I did, and I wish I could forget I’m considered a hero,” I say, “I wish I could continue being a nobody.”
“And I feel sorry for that, you constantly get mentioned online,” he says, “being inapproachable now, or something.”
“And now you decided to scoop me up and put me in your den,” I say, “pervy.” I wish I didn’t cry, but I feel tears welling up in the corner of my eyes. My face puffing up in red.
“So, what do you want me to do?” he says, “fix you some breakfast? Wash your clothes? Or…”
“Or…? Don’t make me thinking about lewd things!” I say, “I swear! You just, know how to make me all flustered!” I rub my eyes with my black sleeve, a smile creeping in.
“Please, do both,” I say, “I have class tomorrow.”
His name is Ivan Scarlet, or so he told, but I know for sure that’s the truth. After getting my clothes washed and having the pleasure of wearing Ivan’s clothes for just a moment. He’s surprisingly thin and short compared to me, just a head taller than me. Which is impressive because despite everything, I never managed to grow more than two centimeters since last year. I finally got back into my usual wear, the same one I wore for the entire first year of Trinity. I forgo wearing the old black baret to keep myself more casual, though. It felt freeing to feel the air in my pink hair. Anyhow, me and Ivan both ate a hearty breakfast consisting of English Sausages and some scrambled eggs. Both a modest choice, fitted with some black coffee. His own living room area is quite small, though, but that’s because this entire building itself is actually a small music academy. We both sit in this empty, minimalist living room, looking out at the now clear sky for the coming sunrise. With such a lovely new acquaintance, my soul feels more alive. I rest my arms on the white table now clean of any dishware. Ivan is quite clean, I feel. I can’t say the same about my own dorm.
“I wonder how you got to Kivotos in the first place I say,” I say, “It’s… I actually never thought of that.”
“Confidential information,” he says, “all I’ll say though, is that I was called here.”
“Called? I have my theories,” I say, “but, I’m probably wrong.”
“I suppose so! But the fact that I met you and you met me feels like fate,” he says, “I’ve been looking for someone actually.”
“Looking? For…” I say, “a musician?”
“Huh? Yeah, actually!” He says, “You see–”
He taps him index finger on the table.
“Trinity General School has commissioned me to compose for the orchestra, and also be the conductor,” he says, “they didn’t have anyone in mind so they kind of just, called me for it.”
“And when I went to rehearse for the first time, it actually was quite filled,” he says, “but nobody was willing to take the solo-trombone spot. In fact, there’s only one trombone.”
“So I have to ask, do you want to take that spot?” He says, “You don’t have to, I know we just met.”
I sit here thinking, to be offered a position with this much gravitas, even though I never played a trombone.
“That sounds fun, I’ll do it,” I say.
“Really? Have you even played a trombone at all?” He says.
I nod in agreement automatically. I don’t know what went through me, I almost said no but I couldn’t say no. He seems like he needed an extra hand and helping people comes natural to me so, I did. I feel like the light is returning. I feel free, somehow.
“But I wonder why you were walking the streets so late at night,” I say, “did you have business with the black market?”
“What?!” he says, “I would never! It’s not like I get anything weird or anything, especially at night.”
“Really? You’re pretty much bordering the black market you know,” I say, “Eh, you do you, I don’t mind! I won’t sentence you to death. Heehee.”
“Aha, okay,” he says, “none-the-less, glad you’re willing to try. I’ve been trying so hard to find at least one person, but that other girl…”
He turns a little pale, lips compressing.
“I wish I had known she wasn’t doing well,” he says, “she wouldn’t have disappeared.”
“Who was that person?” I say, “I hope it’s someone… nevermind.”
“She told me her name was… Mari,” he says, “I thought she was kind, so I tried to take her in to at least give some life to her eyes.”
“And then, she–” he pauses, “Aha, nevermind.”
And then silence, Iochi Mari, the Sisterhood’s first year disciple. I don’t remember seeing her all too much, but I know the entire Sisterhood had been helping the best they could throughout the Civil-War. Maybe it was their unending Sanctity and Justification that caused them to help, their direct cause. Hetu-Pratyaya.
“You don’t need to continue, I understand,” I say, “I can tell that whatever happened, it was bad.”
And then more silence, and as such, we decide that it’s best to leave the conversation there. We had already exchanged our contacts so reaching out is a non-issue. The world is so bleak yet, it had been able to recover so quickly. Despite that, suffering still continues with the people who plasters their dirty hearts to the past. Maybe Mari was a victim of such mentality, I don’t know. Nobody except Ivan knows, but sometimes it’s best if we don’t know. Right? Hanako?
…
+=+=+=+=+
Now I sit at a desk not all too familiar, although I am royally irritated. This is the office of the Justice-Task-Force, it looks modern and sleek; white everywhere. White boards, white tables, white coffee mugs, even white calendars, a truthfully brilliant contrast to our black uniforms. It’s a momento-mori, at least to me, this place is a spiritual graveyard to all the members we had lost. Sometimes I do see the occasional white wisp scurrying, but I have doubts that it actually are spirits. Maybe one of those eye floaters, my eyes did get a little worse. Not enough for glasses, maybe.
Nakamasa Ichika and I sit on both sides of the table, her with bleak sunglasses to hide her eyes and me, with nothing more than my usual uniform legs and arms crossed leaning back on the soft leather chair. There’s a stack of paper and a laptop facing her. Nobody is else is here, only because it’s about 4 AM in the morning. Nothing serious, avoids having nightmares at least.
“I know you’re quite against the idea of joining again–” Ichika says.
“Then why?” I say, “Are you going to send me to die again in the Battlefield-Zones? I had enough.”
“And, now you’re here. The reason I summoned you here… is to give you an offer you probably won’t refuse,” she says, looking at the laptop for a moment.
“I know your drinking habits. I’ve been keeping a close eye on you you know,” she says, “and that incident of you drinking too much and collapsing the other night…”
“Okay, I’ll cut to the chase,” she says, “do you want passive income for your drinking habits?”
“Odd way to put it, but, why?” I say, “and how did you know of my dismal financial situation anyways?”
“Everybody’s poor to some extent here, but the Task-Force managed to stay pretty stable,” she says, “and actually, we’re continuing to gain massive income from commissions for the Battlefield-Zones.”
“So I want you–not to be a member–but an auxiliary member,” she says, “you’ll gain some spending money, but you won’t have to do any work unless it’s serious!”
“And what are your conditions for me to be deployed?” I say, “don’t put me into danger, not too much.”
“I’m not, I’m merely worried about you Koharu,” she says, “Your baggy eyes and general negligent looks says too much.”
Then silence, it’s such an odd offer, but is it really something I probably won’t refuse? But swinging from Ivan’s lessons and this, maybe it’ll work.
“If you want me to say yes, then consider it so,” I say, “but don’t just plant me into danger immediately, okay?”
“Consider the deal settled then,” she says, “also, on a personal note, I’m glad you’re still hanging on well. Your first payment is next week, I’ll personally call you when we need you.”
I merely nod, it’s not something that will give me brimming joy, but at least I won’t be struggling as much. The days of resplendent wealth is gone, but maybe it’ll get better. At least I hope.
I exit the Task-Force office without hitch, the sky still unpainted by the yellow sun but sparkling in stars. There used to be multiple halos circling the skies of Kivotos, but since the Impact it has diminished all too much. Finally, I can see the skies without any distractions from the artificiality of the Sanctum-Tower. So many different sprinkles of colors in the sky, from red, yellow, blue, even green surprisingly. But, I have better things to do. Then I head to the alleys that I take for my dorm. Each step towards it is hollow and reverberating, the spirits floating all around not helping with such felt-ness. Is it a hallucination? Who knows. The Sun begins to awake from behind, the light glowing, creating a distinct shadow behind me. And now I walk into the alley, a saturated blue street light to the right and a crude graffiti or letters spelling AFRAID?
It’s a ritual for me, to gather my own light, I grip my rifle slung on my left shoulder, and place my left hand on my chest. And then I pray.
You’re sorrow is mine, that I know,
I shall be your guide, your star.
I don’t know your infernal days,
I can only be your clear prismatic water.
So I will pass it all on to you.
Keep your dignity.
