The Kindness of a Serial Killer

Tamura Jiyunko (Junk-o) took a trip outside for a walk around the neighborhood and to buy groceries. The flowerbeds on the side of the road and the relaxed tune in the supermarket couldn’t prepare her for the spectacle back at her home. She returned to find her roommate with her assassination target in the kitchen, just as Pestilence switched off the kettle.

Junk-o’s yellowish-green eyes scanned over Raven, squinting and double-checking that she recognized the right person. “Jiyunko-chan, this is Midorikawa-san. I invited her to try my tea. Don’t tell me you forgot. I bought some leaves from Britain that I just had to share with someone else.” Pestilence broke the tension with some casual gaslighting.

Junk-o scratched her dark gray hair; her internal panic swelled, threatening to break out. I took the chance to nudge Raven to the right action, through a simple sentence delivered straight to her noggin. “Hey, Raven. Where are your manners?”

Raven frowned, evidently dissatisfied with the nickname I granted her, and probably also with what I said earlier. She could have hidden her emotions better, but I didn’t expect her to.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Midorikawa Mami.” A fake name. That exceeded my expectations, how dishonest this girl was. Junk-o’s mind was; her leading hunch was that Raven was onto her. Only the paranoid survive, as the saying goes.

Raven continued her lies. “I’m an old acquaintance of Sasaki-san here.” Who was Sasaki again? Oh, Pestilence’s newest disguise.

By this time, Junk-o realized that Raven must not be here for her, but for Pestilence. But this conclusion brought her no relief. Instead, a separate concern arose, one that projected at Pestilence, accompanied by a tenderness that was as disgustingly slithery as silk. “Karen, do you know Midorikawa-san?”

Pestilence lowered her head and poked her index fingers against each other. “I don’t remember, but she knows my name, so I guess that I must know her.” Her lips pursed into a pout, flaunting how little shame and pride she had. Maybe eaten by her brain worms.

Junk-o trusted Pestilence more than Raven, naturally. Part of it must have been the maternal instincts that Pestilence brazenly exploited. “Get out of our home. I don’t know who you are, but you clearly pressured Karen into letting you in. Are you a stalker? Are you a scammer? Are you a thief? It’s written on your dishonest face.”

“Sick burn,” the youth these days would say in response to Junk-o’s hostility. A little ironic coming from an assassin.

Raven didn’t appreciate the irony, but worse, she spoke. “My face? Do I look like a bad person? You take it back. Don’t you dare EVER insult my mom like that again. Got it?” From the pictures I’d seen, Raven did look like her mother. Still, quite a leap from faces to mothers, but that was hardly my chief concern.

Because we were in the kitchen, abundant with knives and scissors.

If Junk-o decided to eliminate her target here, I would have to fight back. Obviously, I would win and kill her, but what would happen afterwards? I could hide the body, but that would surely attract the attention of the crime network that Junk-o was part of. I could crush them too, should that happen, but that was beside the point.

The point was Pestilence. How would she react? Besides acting as if she were scared, she would run away. And all my plans would be ruined.

“Raven, what would your mother say?” I went for a hanging fruit so low that it might as well be underground. It did nothing to curtail Raven’s rage, and I didn’t expect it to. She only had to abstain from anything stupid.

“Don’t even speak of her.” She yelled as if no one else were in the room.

Junk-o thought little of the outburst; too busy guessing what Raven had on her and whether it was worth it or even workable to kill Raven here. That granted me time to deal the final blow. “Do you think that the problem can be solved through ignorance and impulses? You are still disappointing your mother, regardless of whether you know it or not. So, go ahead, throw your tantrum.”

Raven had no comeback. Hardly surprising, in this pointless state of hers. At least, she had enough rationality to take a deep breath to calm herself down. “I’m sorry. I totes went too far.” She bowed to Junk-o. I would take the apology as addressed to me too.

“Sure, whatever,” Junk-o mumbled.

“Then I should leave,” Raven nodded awkwardly.

Pestilence grabbed Raven’s wrist with a level of force that appeared weak. The dramatic act was completed with a blush on her face. “Hey… can you stay for tea?” Was she going to be proactive or not? Choose a lane.

Raven couldn’t resist Pestilence; few people with large egos could. For the next few minutes, she fidgeted next to Junk-o, watching Pestilence scoop and weigh tea leaves. Hot water rolled into the teacups. Steam floated and spread. I couldn’t glimpse any microorganisms out of the ordinary, but Pestilence must have added plenty. If only my quasi-omniscience didn’t have this annoying limitation. If only it could give me information about Pestilence’s thoughts and actions.

Meanwhile, it could read Junk-o with no issues. This killer could have gone on with her day ‘assassining’ or something. But she stood guard, not only to keep an eye on Raven, but also to sync her mind to Pestilence’s actions, protective as if Pestilence would collapse from a mere gust of insults.

Pestilence was a mirror and a time machine, reflecting to Junk-o a distant past. The flashes of memory that this scene evoked in Junk-o were more motivating than informative, renewing her vow to help all victims of bullying.

“And… here you go, my mistress.” With a smile that only I found sickening, Pestilence passed Raven a filled teacup on a plate, while her other hand made a V-sign near her winking eye. Junk-o narrowed her eyes, flinching at the word ‘mistress’. Her head would probably explode if she ever visited maid cafes.

“Oh… thanks a lot.” Raven accepted it. I wished she would pour it down the drain, but I supposed the most Pestilence might do was poison Raven. In that case, it would be Raven’s fault. I had no obligation to keep her alive.

“Don’t you drink it,” I still said, just for the sake of it.

Needless to say, Raven ignored my warning. And I could only watch, knowing that wrestling control from Raven at this time would only make her more determined to defy me.

She was definitely going to regret it later, but first, she finished her tea without any problems. After that, an awkward goodbye to Pestilence and Junk-o. “Again, totes sorry for my outburst. I have something else to do.”

Junk-o let Raven leave. She wouldn’t kill Raven right away; instead, she would prepare a little more, while determined to keep Raven from ‘hurting’ Pestilence any more. Raven left Pestilence’s house under the Junk-o’s watchful gaze.

And it wasn’t long until my prediction came true. When Raven was researching online for her article at one of her apartments, an abrupt pain seized Raven’s bowels. The annoying part was that I had to share the consequences with her. As many people had realized before, life isn’t fair.

“Hello, Romeo, this is Delta. Do you copy? Over.” Even in the toilet, I kept bothering Raven, but she didn’t acknowledge me at all since she drank Pestilence’s mediocre tea. No matter, I had something else up my sleeve.

“Your informant is about to get into a fight at a karaoke bar and get arrested. Too bad. If only you had listened to me.”

Finally, a reaction. I could feel Raven’s facial muscles sink. “Don’t joke about that.”

“Let’s see. Matsuo Kenji. Age 43. He works at Matsuro Security. And yes, it’s a coincidence that his name and the company he works for sound so similar.”

“Go on. Dox him more. That won’t make me trust you.”

“You don’t have to trust me. You’ll just have to regret it tomorrow, like how you are regretting the tea you drank.”

“This isn’t because of the tea,” she hurried to Pestilence’s defense, way too eagerly. Did they work out a deal that I didn’t know about? Her confidence was unwarranted. It had to be the tea. I didn’t detect any contaminants in anything else that she ate. That said, if she wanted to be delusional so badly, it would be a waste of effort to convince her further.

Raven got little done in the afternoon, confined to the diarrheic hell of her own making.