Back To Foulness

Ōfukachō, Kita Ward.

After meeting with Mitsu in her apartment, discussing the complex situation, and coming up with a plan, the two of them headed to where Mitsu had lost track of Sarai: the Waldorf Astoria Hotel.

“Which room was it again?” Enji asked.

“Room 221,” replied Mitsu, hands in her black silk coat.

Thud. Thud.

The two marched through the elegant corridor, eyeing each door’s number.

“To think that fake police badge would work.” Enji laughed. “Being a spy does have its benefits.”

“True,” sighed Mitsu.

“Here it is.” Enji paused in front of a steel door, the number “221” hanging above it.

“Are you sure this is the place?” he asked.

“Yes. The girl invited him in. His vision blurred for a second, and I couldn’t see a thing afterward.” Mitsu unhooked her necklace and held the sharp cross at its end tightly between her fingers.

“Did Hanami mess with the cameras?” Enji’s voice was low as he wondered.

Mitsu raised her right hand in a thumbs-up. Her downcast eyes and irritated expression were clear indicators she hated what she was doing.

Enji pulled his dagger from the inside pocket of his coat and advanced toward the door.

Knock. Knock.

“Sarai-kun, are you there?” whispered Mitsu.

Knock. Knock.

“Sarai-kun.”

Knock. Knock.

“Sarai—”

“The door is open.” All of a sudden, a whisper echoed like hissing wind.

“Push it open.”

Enji and Mitsu, subconsciously mesmerized by the bewitching whispers, pushed the door open in one collective shove.

The resonating creak carried them into a view of utter obscurity. A room in which light sought an escape. At its center, sitting on a low glass table, a girl whose pale figure defied darkness twitched her lips into muted words.

Yet Mitsu and Enji once again heard the same whispers.

“Are you looking for the little beacon of hope?”

“He’s dining with a clown in Umeda. Greet him for me.”

They echoed, following the rhythm of the girl’s dancing mouth.

Enji and Mitsu froze at the doorstep, incapable of acting or even reacting.

“W-Who are you…?” Mitsu could barely breathe as she mumbled.

“Me? I am just… not here to begin with.”

“Not here…”

“Not…”

With each whisper invading the depths of Mitsu and Enji’s minds, the girl’s pale figure was devoured by the darkness, her scarlet eyes gleaming like a lost traveler’s lantern.

She vanished from the room, allowing the space its usual dim lighting.

“Who the… was that?” Mitsu was awestruck.

She turned her gaze to Enji, who had already been staring at her in a daze.

“I think it’s—”

“My… gosh.” Enji’s words fractured. He staggered like a drunkard, dropping his dagger to the ground.

Beside him, Mitsu—who was clearly better at keeping her temper—only took off her lensless glasses and rubbed her good eye.

“Stay calm, Tatsu. We’re dealing with mind-altering Magic here.” She had to close her eyes and concentrate before announcing so.

“Mind-altering…? What are you talking about… There is nothing here.” Only someone as close to him as Mitsu could tell what Enji was saying.

I can’t remember if it was a man or a woman, but whoever we just met is definitely quite powerful. This new person might connect to that clown, The Yokai, or even BND themselves. Mitsu pondered, putting her black glasses back on.

Well, now isn’t the time for this. Since this person retreated, they probably don’t have time for us. She then looked over at Enji, who was struggling to stand still.

He had always struggled with mental attacks. I’ll have to get him back to his senses.

Slap! Mitsu’s palm painted a red spot on Enji’s face.

“I told you to calm down. Let’s find Sarai.”

“Sarai… Oh yeah, Sarai. Where is he, though? We didn’t find anyone here.”

“He’s in Umeda.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do. Can’t you shut up?” Mitsu walked out of the room.

She said he was in Umeda with someone… I can’t recall what she said exactly. Could it be a trap, though? I wouldn’t say so. I’ll scan the district to find Sarai through my owls anyway, so that should be enough.

Thump! A couple of steps behind Mitsu, Enji turned the handle and pushed the door shut.

Thud. Thud. He quickened his pace.

...

Umeda district, inside Piatti Aromaci.

“Did you just say… d-deities?” Sarai was speechless at Scarnetti’s soul-quivering statement.

“Yes, very much so,” replied Scarnetti.

“The Faithful Plague was never a war between humans. It was a war between Gods who sought something beyond worship and power.”

“Of course, you will only understand this when the time arrives,” he added.

“When entire civilizations shared Faith toward the same existence, it gave birth to a soul that embodied that same concept. A soul in lack of a vessel.

“This phenomenon most likely occurred multiple times across history, but what matters to us is the last one, which has caused a shift in history.” Scarnetti swallowed the last drops of his blood orange juice.

“It’s when deities sought humanity. The three of us are nothing but a bridge between the divine and their wishes,” he sighed heavily.

“The three of us? I don’t really understand you... How do you even know all of this? Why are you so sure of this version of history?”

“I believe in Faith, but I don’t think Gods exist.” Sarai felt a chill run down his spine. Despite not fully believing Scarnetti’s words, he deeply wished it wasn’t something that concerned him.

Deities… This feeling… He felt his chest tighten in peculiar terror, one he couldn’t quite grasp the source of.

“I don’t know why I am so sure of this.” Scarnetti suddenly smiled, an exaggerated one.

“He… Yes! He told me all of this… and believed in me the same way I believed in him!” He stood abruptly, staring at the ember lights illuminating the ceiling.

“But…” He instantly fell back to his seat, his joyous expression dying like a wilting flower.

“He never told me why it had to be me, you, and her.” Scarnetti murmured.

Sarai’s mind raced with incomplete, scattered thoughts as he looked at Scarnetti in a daze.

“W-Who is he?” He couldn’t help but ask.

“The person who sent you the letter wasn’t me.” Scarnetti then pointed at himself with his right hand and said, “It was him. He missed you so much, he even shed tears for you.”

What the hell? Does this guy have some sort of personality… disorder… wait. Sarai stumbled upon a self-checkmate.

I’ve been losing memories of my actions… They also say I acted differently. I have also noticed something strange about Aliskra’s words… It was as if she didn’t address me with her words, but addressed someone else. As he pondered, Sarai felt a cold thread of dread unspool in his stomach.

If the three of us are connected as he suggests… that means I also have a personality disorder. Or worse, something terrifying is inside—

M-My head… Without warning, Sarai’s head was struck with aching pain, and for some reason, that pain drove him to stare at the glass pavilion to his left.

The sight his eyes fell upon mirrored a distorted memory of those he hadn’t lived through with Aliskra.

It’s when he gazed at his purple-haired reflection. That same reflection was now crystal clear on the glass before him.

I remember… purple-haired… Preventing him from sinking deeper in thought, the pendulum pendant hanging from Sarai's neck shone with dim purple light, as if establishing a connection with him.

I see it now. That was not me… at all. He stifled a swallow, turning back to face Scarnetti, who seemed to be going through the same awe.

“I’m sorry, Sarai. I’ve been through the exact same feeling as you. Being the first beacon of hope wasn’t easy at all.” Scarnetti scrubbed his hands over his sleep-deprived face. “I know you understand nothing. But it’s only natural this way.”

“Yes. It’s only natural for things to be this way.”

“Just so you know. I’m not willing to harm you, unless things require it.”

“You see… I’m a man of m-morals.” Scarnetti’s eyes shone, about to tear up.

I don’t think this guy has anything to do with sanity. It seems like his composure has gradually crumbled since we started talking.

He’s clearly not the same person. Sarai resisted the urge to cry himself.

Scarnetti pulled his wallet, produced a handful of cash, and placed it on the table. He then stood up, grabbed his journal and office bag, and went on standing beside Sarai.

“In this world where connection is nothing but a myth, you, I, and Aliskra are connected by Faith. One buried since millennia.” He patted Sarai’s shoulder. “You will understand soon. Please, let go of free will. We are nothing but pawns in the Gods’ gambit.”

“Faith is guidance to the Faithful. But for us, we are merely slaves for our Faith.”

Thud. Thud.

Valerius Scarnetti left.

Sarai watched him gradually approach the exit, each step drowning him further into obscure, cold nescience.

Me, him, and Aliskra are pawns in the Gods’ gambit… we’re connected by Faith… and this in one way or another connects to the Scorpion, who’s probably some ancient buried entity…

Drip. Drip. Sarai shed silent tears.

“Haha…” He shook with silent laughter.

We are merely slaves for our Faith?

Thump! Sarai hammered the table with a desperately clenched fist.

“I’m not a slave for anything, damn it.”