MYSTERY II: [][][][][][]

Life that is once lost, it is found only in nothingness. The world through his blazing eyes were nothing but a mass of grey and whites. Sometimes black? Kaname wouldn't know. All he knew was that he was different. Since the day he set foot into life, the lords above have forsaken him.

As if the cries of his birth had halted the good of the world, he couldn't see colours. He couldn't blend with others, for they fear the steps he took towards them. Seemingly warm yet shrouded with warnings. The day Kaname was born, 5 people from his neighborhood had died, a heating system in the neighborhood that never malfunctioned had collapsed, the farm animals had fallen ill mysteriously and lastly, when the child was born, even before he had opened his eyes, his hands held onto his umbilical cord, chewing them in his toothless mouth. The first thing Kaname had eaten since he was born, was not milk or water, it was pure blood. His grip was utterly sturdy, as if he had been refusing to enter this world.

Kaname had always seen the world diversely than others. Shrouded in the shades of muted silver, his eyes couldn't perceive the vibrance of the world. As if the colours were drained from the earth the day he set his foot on the soil. The miracle of this curse was but an anomaly, Kaname could see the world in three sets of shades, white, grey and… green.

trinkles of grey and green danced around the world like the twirl of a ballerina on a stage of phantom, the spotlight falls on him like the first snow in the night of someone's death. People around him gawked with their eyes wide opened, watching the omen of a miracle he was, draped in white garbs- a miko to say. The blur of scented smoke travelled to the noses of the mourners and bystanders when Kaname burned the incense, ringing the toll of the bell with every prayer he said. The heir of the Kanzaki watched him immersed in what seemed like an occult but they respected the process anyway.

Under the pitch hat, his autumn hair ached the eyes of the watching, the bystanders whispered words of gossip- calling him the discourteous. Kaname didn't pay it any mind, that is the classic opera reaction to his origin, profession and contrasting appearance. One may whisper words of venoms but who is to tell the silly souls that an orchestra worth watching is always played in the dead of the night, amongst not the living but the cackling phantom souls, they bid and buy every sound that is to be played. Whether be it an instrument or… a scream.

Yukio's eyes lingered on the back of Kaname's head, the environment was all too familiar for the detective. The same incense, the same weeping and… dead victims deprived of justice. His nose scrunched when he noticed the photos of the young girls, so much life left to live and yet, it was snuffed out of them due to sheer insecurity of a maniac.

The eyes of those girls flashed in his mind.. so black and..

Lifeless, as if they are staring right at me.

As if, their deaths were his fault. The pupils of his own eyes wavered, burning from staring and yet, the girls in the photo didn't blink… mocking him in failing again. Even now, he couldn't prevent their deaths nor could he watch their dead faces. Yukio looked away, the inside of his throat itched as if something was clawing it from inside. Perhaps.. mayhaps, it was…

Their hands…

The nails of deceased maidens clawed the inside of his chest, bit his bones, climbing up from within him, to see the sun again. Tearing his mouth open with excruciatingly slow pace. Yukio's breath hitched, his fingers curled into themselves, digging into his own skin and drawing blood. The pain was real, yet the phantom hands inside of him clawed at him, tore his soul- they blamed him. It was his fault.

Blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood. 

So red and crimson, so deep and warm- oh no, it clots. It pools under his feet, bubbling, cracked bones poked out of it, faces of the girls screamed from under the crimson, cursing him, clinging onto him- pulling him under, dragging him to the depths of hell. He is at fault. "I-..!" He will always be at fault. When he was child in the forest and even now, it has always been him who never prevented the inevitable, something only he could do. He let's them drown in that pool of blood underneath him and now, it was dragging him. It was his time, it was his turn.. It was his punishment after all, to let them tear his skin and fill the pool with more blood, to feed them. To soothe and cradle them. To let them free him-

“Senpai-!” Yukio let go of the breath he had been holding onto, as if the hands dragging him down in the crimson were real. As if it really was his fault. But.. it wasn't and he knew it. “Senpai you were spacing out, are you okay?”

Oh Hikari…

His dear kohai that he adores and coddles, he wants nothing more than to protect her from the ugliness of the world, even if it meant making her face it. “I am alright. Are you?” Hikari smiled, the rims of her eyes burned with red, she had been weeping. Of course she was. And yet,... “Of course. I have it all handled, don't worry.” She ushered the words of reassure but Yukio knew, she had been crying all night, if not for days.

Today marks the 7th day since Hiroshi Kujo was cremated. Hikari didn't cry in front of anyone. Hikari did not attend his funeral. But she did not shut down anyone. Like a marionette, tied by the strings, moving only enough and saying only the things others expected from her.

“The ceremony is over guys, Kanzaki's sister is calling for us upstairs.”

Kaname's voice brought the two back to reality, a reality Kaname was a part of, yet he felt like the bystander. The ceremony was held in the Kanzaki residence, the mourners of the dead girls were called in their home, providing them with everything they needed and..

They were told to keep their mouths shut about the Kanzaki family’s involvement. The family compensated them handsomely too. Those heartless jerks.

Silence in exchange of the best peace memorial ceremony for the deceased, held by a shaman known to none. The security watched them like hawks from beneath those dark shades, Kaname did not need to see colours to understand that they were being watched. The heiress suspected them. Or-

She feels threatened by us.

Yukio did not pass a comment on the ceremony. Yukio Manabe did not believe in god, he hated the concept of it and yet, watching the man wrapped in white garbs, dark circles under his eyes, he hasn't been sleeping… Yukio couldn't help but feel grateful. He couldn't help but wonder if god really existed, for no ordinary human could create a face so beautiful- even under such distress. “Alright let's go -” Yukio’s eyes widened, was it the trick of light? Because he could've sworn, the faces of the deceased girls changed to…

Kaname and Hikari.. am I going crazy?

Kaname's breath knotted in his throated, as if the dead girl in the picture was smiling, not because it was a picture but because she was mocking him. Watching him, waiting for him. To be the next mourner- to be the mourner once again. As if she was here, standing behind Hikari, standing behind Kaname and…

She is standing behind me…

Slowly snaking her cold fingers around their necks, counting down backwards until it reaches zero- so she could squeeze the life out of them. Yukio's pupils wavered and his blood ran cold. The two, Kaname and Hikari walked ahead of him and his mind could only spiral, as if those dead girls were clinging to his friends, waiting for Yukio to look away so they could finally wring their necks.

Yukio's shoulders felt heavy, it was becoming harder to breathe, as if the weight of the dead were sitting on his shoulders, or so he thought. Until- he saw rotted skin attached to feet, it dangled on his shoulders. Familiar feet dangled on his shoulders. Yukio halted. He knew she was looking down at him, smiling from ear to ear with those tore lips. His neck tightened, cold grey arms wrapped around his neck, squeezing tighter and tighter-

Oh my dear [][][]~ Look what you did again- you [][][][][][] them to die! You did this! And next is.. going to be [][][][]! Just like [][][] was. Its all because you are a bad [][][].

Yukio’s eyes were visibly hazed, colours mixed together and only the grey on his shoulders remained, the familiar giggle ring in his ears as her head hung upside down in front of him, there was only a smile, stretching from ear to ear and Yukio knew-

“I— I can-t-t breath-e!” His hands reached out, clutching onto whatever seemed dependable. He did not know what it was or who it was. But when his vision gave out, he was grateful to be surrounded by the ambers of autumn than the murky grey of corpses.