Kara no Kyoukai. Crack. OOC. Not to be taken orally, nasally or seriously.
No regular update schedule is planned for this. It's basically just a means for me to write stupid stuff in between MIAL updates. (Not that that can't be stupid at times, too.)
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One Week
Day 0 - Prologue
This is a story almost entirely at odds with the canonical basis for its existence.
Those preferring to retain their image of the characters should read no further.
* * * *
I'll set the scene for you. A lonely nighttime city street, with streetlights daubing orange daubs on the pavement in lines at semi-regular intervals. That's a lie, the intervals are very regular - the town planning department, in their infinite wisdom, has seen to that - but I choose to think of them as semi-regular in order to maintain my selfish conceit as being the one truly normal thing in the world. That's a lie too. I'm not normal in the slightest. Where was I? A lonely nighttime city street - yes, I think we'll skip some of the extraneous description; I don't think anyone wants to know how grungy the traffic lights were as expressed in a metaphor comparing it to the Spanish influenza epidemic of 1919 - and along the side of the road, there was a girl in a wheelchair. If I were to say she was a beautiful girl, I'd be correct, so I'll just tell you she had unrealistically long, dark hair and let your imagination do the rest of the work. People like us don't deserve poetics. Anyway, she's currently wheeling herself along the road, lost in whatever she's thinking about, heading for some unknown destination, oblivious-
"Yoink."
I should probably have mentioned earlier that I'm standing right behind her, and have been for a while. But, whatever; I could have snuck up on her even if she wasn't blind. I grab the back of the wheelchair with one hand, and arrest its motion.
"H-huh?"
Daydream interrupted. Nightdream. Regular dream, whatever. That look on her face suggests that her plane of thought has just lost cabin pressure.
"Get in, loser. We're going to brain country."
"What? But-"
"Employee meeting."
"But...my suicide..."
"There's no time."
"But-"
"There's no tiiiime!"
* * * *
This is a story about three unpaid interns for a would-be supervillain in M City, T Prefecture, Japan.
This is a story about a depressive, suicidal drama queen-
-a misanthropic, sarcastic stalker and cosplay fanatic-
-and a sociopathic prima donna with delusions of being a main character.There was plenty of time. I just wanted my steaks, is all.
* * * *
"Shirazumi..."
"What?"
"I don't think you're supposed to use that like that..."
Let me put you in the picture. A vast, subterranean chamber of a parking-lot-esque nature, carrying the certain architectural je nai sais quoi only achievable by the addition of huge quantities of brains in jars. It's basically a zombie buffet. In addition, there's a big metal plate suspended from the ceiling by metal chains over a large pit of fire. Glowing red-hot in the centre, less so at the edges. With the tongs in one hand, I flip the steaks to make sure they're equally browned on both sides.
Sizzlin'.
"Fujyou, I'm pretty sure no-one has any idea what this thing is used for. Not you, not the Boss, not even the animators."
"Hm."
Pout. For the record, she's been sulking like that ever since she got here, due to her suicide attempt being interrupted.
"Oh, stop that. You can kill yourself later, you know? I'll paint a big 'X' on the pavement; Asagami'll come, we'll set off some fireworks. Cheer you on. Make a day out of it."
"It's just not the same!" she wails. "Now that I have nothing left to live for, I was going to make a dramatic nighttime leap into the void under a cool breeze and bright moon, set to an atmospheric piece by Kalafina. Getting interrupted by you is so, so...banal."
"Wow, suicide sounds awesome. Looks like all the cool kids will be doing it soon. They're gonna have to start charging entrance at Aokigahara."
Grumble, grumble. "...at least I got to make friends..."
"Bullshit!"
"Not bullshit."
"Those weren't even proper ghosts. They were, like, leftover-memory-reversed-record-order-let's-do-the-time-warp-again things, and they weren't even sentient. You know those gerbils I have in my apartment to do drug testing on? They would be considered friends under your definition. I sure as hell don't talk to them."
"You talk to your pictures of Ryougi. I've seen it."
"You bitch! I thought we agreed your spiritual form doesn't get within a kilometre of my pla..."
Well isn't that just a smile that looks like she stole if off of some more well-adjusted girl.
"Ehehe...it didn't. But thanks for confirming my susp-"
"NO STEAK FOR YOU!"
* * * *
This is a story of three serial killers, and the adventures they have together.
Because, honestly, who else would hang out with them?
* * * *
The Boss - big, dressed like a character from The Matrix, potentially wearing eyeliner - stands before the three of us. Asagami did arrive, unfashionably late as usual. It seems the Boss had to drag her out of a school slumber party. I'm told there was a pillow fight in progress. Feathers were flying, buttons were being lost from pajamas, forbidden trysts were being consummated through eye contact between roughly sixty to eighty percent of the participants...fucking unprofessional. The nerve of her. How dare she be allowed to have Sapphic misadventures at a bona-fide Marimite knockoff while the rest of us don't even get to have friends?
"Did you remember to tie your tie in a proper knot? It's the only way sempai will notice you." I whisper to her.
"Reien uniforms don't have ties, jackass."
"You know what else doesn't have ties? The key structural components of the Broad Bridge. Just sayin'."
"You want to get castrated? I'll do it. It'll be less confusing for everyone."
"I am shocked, shocked to hear-"
"Ahem."
"Shit!"
Drumroll starts. Everyone's back stiffens, even the one in the wheelchair. Yes, it's time for the salute. Clear throat, and-
"ALL HAIL!"
"All hail."
"All hail...
"...LORD ARAYA!"
"...ord Araya..." finishes Fujyou weakly.
"This world..." Standing in front of his throne, he addresses us in a suitably bombastic tone. "...is CORRUPT!"
Silence.
"Yeah? An-" Asagami stamps on my foot. "-ow!"
"And WE of the secret ideological organisation ACROSS thus do rightly aim to PURIFY the world of its CORRUPTION, by means of the PUREST purification known to MAN - DESTRUCTION! Yes - for it is the purpose of ACROSS to destroy this world that has been corrupted beyond repair, to bear witness to it, and create a flawless record of its existence, that the existence of what was left uncorrupted may be VINDICATED...and from there, to create this world anew through means of a plan so devious that the full extent of its machinations are unknown EVEN TO ME!"
"That's amazing, Lord Araya!" says Asagami, eyes shining. "It's so amazingly amazing I'm going to faint!"
"Yeah, it's, uh...it's certainly something." I say. "If you faint, I'm not catching you."
"Choke on your own vomit and die, Shirazumi~."
"Yet, as things stand, we are curtailed at every juncture by forces hostile to our goals! It is today that I must announce to you, with sorrow in my heart, that a new foe has risen up against us - and one against which our ceaseless assault must not cease!"
"It'll never happen in a million years, Lord Araya! We'll assault them 'till they cry the hot tears of shame and remorse! And then we'll keep assaulting them!"
"That sounded...wrong..." mumbles Fujyou.
"Asagami, is it really in good taste for you to be making that kind of double entendre?"
"What do you mean, double entendre?"
"Asagami, your wasteful enthusiasm is, as ever, appreciated. However, I do not wish to waste time, so I will get straight to the point. The Ministry of Labour will be inspecting us in a few days-"
"What? Since when do you get inspected by anyone?" I ask. "I mean, it's pretty clear this apartment isn't built to code - no fire exits in the whole goddamn place, I'm serious, pay close attention to Paradox Spiral on your next rewatch - so obviously the building inspectors don-"
"Under the Revised Antagonist Securities Act 1998, all organisations characterised as 'villainous' - either self-confessed or as judged by a Diet-appointed panel of experts - which are comprised of more than twenty members, or whose ultimate goal possesses an aggregate Negative Influence Target greater than 0.1% of the national population, are required to be formally approved by the Ministry of Labour."
"So...does this mean we're getting paid?" I ask.
"And it appears, by my reading of the necessary legislation, there are certain areas in which our present arrangement is not up to scratch."
"This is all because we don't have a union..." Fujyou says, gloomily.
"What was that?"
"Nothing!"
"So are we getting paid? Like, at all? Ever?" I say.
"No."
"You goddamn cheapskate. What do you mean, 'no'?!"
"'No.' A word commonly used to reply to a statement with a binary qualification in the negative, yet one which here means 'yes'. You are, collectively, getting paid-"
"Sweet!"
"-in the form of a paid vacation."
A silence follows.
A very long silence.
A silence so deep the only sound it contains is that of the sizzling remnants of steak fat on the metal plate, left behind from those steaks I cooked earlier and ate in front of Fujyou, staring at her the whole time with unblinking, defiant eyes, not offering her any. She almost cried. Almost. It was hilarious. 'cause I'm evil, you see.
And at the end of the silence, someone says - I think it was all of us at the same time, actually -
"There is no way in hell-"
"-that I am going on vacation-"
"-with these two idiots."
"Your opinions have been noted. However, by granting you a seven-day paid vacation, my employer obligations for this financial year are technically fulfilled due to a curious loophole I found in Clause 6 of Subsection 88-"
"You don't pay us anyway! How the balls can you give us a paid vacation?" That's me talking.
"Irrelevant. Naturally, it'll have to be within the country, due to overseas taxatio-"
"But Lord Araya! What about my school?!" cries Asagami. "Surely some provision has been made?! With all due respect, you don't know what it's like in there, sir! It's a powderkeg of sexually-repressed young ladies with no men in a ten-kilometre radius! Without me to keep them away with veiled death threats, some decadent, depraved senior might corrupt Azaka while I'm gone!"
"As if she isn't corrupted already. She has the soul of a total deviant."
"You must admit he has a point, Asagami..."
"Do you two want to take this outside!?" She turns back to the Boss. "Please, Lord Araya! Can't you see my position? I have her soft, unspoilt thighs to consider!"
"Also irrelevant. I have already made the necessary arrangements with your school. You will be taking a week's leave for psychiatric reasons."
"Psychiatric?! No, no, that's impossible! Just think of the rumors that would spread around Reien - ghastly rumours! - which would be in complete contradiction of the fact that I'm perfectly normal!"
"Except for all those murders..." Fujyou adds. "I'm just, um...I'm just saying..."
"Oh, those don't count."
"They fucking counted to all those guys you murdered!" I say.
"Anons don't count. I'm a POV character and they barely even had names."
"Oi, oi! Don't look down on the anons! They're pretty much the only reason this franchise makes money."
"Yes..." agrees Fujyou. "I think you're being...self-important, Asagami."
"Yeah, you think you're better than us, huh? Is that it?"
"I'm beautiful and cute, and hence not responsible for my actions."
"AREN'T I ALSO BEAUTIFUL AND CUTE?!" I say, executing a flawless tsun-tsun pout capable of inducing heart attacks at thirty metres. Its main use is for immobilising people before stabbing them.
"I have no need to contest this matter," adds Fujyou, "for I possess the refined, rarefied beauty of a Heian-era princess, in whose frail body is circumscribed the transience and ephemerality of life. I have composed numerous haiku on the topic, which I publish on my twitter account."
"Accept the truth, Asagami!" I point at her, with a dramatic pose. She'll have to imagine the written sound effects hovering the air behind me, though; my Jojo's-level is not yet that high. "However you might claim the position of a main character, you are and always will be moeshit with a horrible personality!"
"Whereas you just have a horrible personality, period."
"One of your character motivations is you literally wanting sempai to notice you. It is physically impossible to attain a greater degree of moeshit without taking you into nekomimi-buruma territory."
"Yeah, I guess you would be knowledgeable in those matters. I have seen those photos from Comiket, you-"
"protoSakura98 in the IRC channel. Who is it? WHO IS IT? HUH? Not to mention your 2chan pos-"
"At least I never killed anyone to impress a girl!"
"CAPSLOCK AND I HAD A CONNECTION!"
"Even now, you can't let go of it..." observes Fujyou.
"Moreover, impressing girls is the only reason to kill people, you empty-headed ignoramus! Wars have started over that! Read the fucking Iliad! You should pay more attention in school."
"At least I go to school."
"At least you can go to school!" wails Fujyou. "I'm 27. If I try to put on my old uniform, everyone will think I'm a cosplayer."
"Everyone already thinks you're a cosplayer. You look like you just crawled out of a TV seven days late." says I.
"Strange; I don't remember seeing her on the Midnight Channel." says Asagami.
"God damn it, Asagami, get a clue!"
"Besides, I can't go on holiday. I'm a terminal cancer patient..." mumbles Fujyou. "If I don't get my medication every day, I'll actually die." She sighs. "In a totally undramatic and un-beautiful way."
"Doubly irrelevant. I have cured your cancer."
"What."
"What."
"Ohh..." Fujyou looks incomparably downcast. "But then, I won't-"
"Just for the week."
"WHAT-"
"WHAT-"
"Hooray!"
* * * *
Day 1
We went on vacation the next morning. All three of us, resolutely determined not to enjoy it in the slightest. It was all but certain in our minds that whoever first showed any outward signs of mirth, joviality or - God forbid - pleasure would immediately lose in some vaguely-defined way, whether it was at some kind of game or at life in general. It was furthermore certain - implicitly decided, perhaps - that if that happened, the offending individual would die at the hands of the other two.
Brutally.
At the moment, though, I should probably mention that we're on the train. We have a little compartment with a table in the middle and a window out the side. Beautiful ocean view out there, by the way. It's really quite something. All sparkly and blue in the morning sunlight, like someone doused a Cullen in copper sulphate.
"So." I say.
"So." Asagami says.
"So..." Fujyou says. "...where are we going, again?"
Utter disinterest. Fujyou's probably still annoyed with me from last night. I don't think she's forgotten what I did to her on the way over to Araya's place.
* * * *
"Hey, Fujyou."
"What?"
"This is a really steep hill we're at the top of, isn't it?"
"...yes."
"And you're in a wheelchair, aren't you?"
"...yes?"
Turn to face imaginary camera.
"My name's Lio Shirazumi, and this is Jackass."
Kick.
"What are you AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-"
* * * *
Good times.
"Didn't you read the brochure?" I say, also disinterestedly.
"...I'm blind."
"So?" says Asagami, on the edge of boiling over with rage. "I'm blind, and I still read it just fine. What is your deal?"
"I, uh...no, I mean-"
"Being the only one of us not to be visually impaired," I say, taking out the brochure, "my reading experience was qualitatively better than both of yours combined. We're going to a ryokan."
"Oh. Will there be hot springs?" asks Fujyou.
"Yes, there will be hot springs."
"Is it near the beach?"
"Yes, it's near the beach."
"Will there-"
"YES, there will be yukatas and swimsuits and misunderstandings and people getting punched in the face and called 'ECCHI!' and all that other dumb bullshit. Look at these reviews they included in the brochure. Nine of ten, all from harem protagonists. The last is from Nyaruko."
"This is so lame." Asagami is grumbling as usual. "I finally get to do a hot springs-slash-beach episode and I have to spend it with you losers?"
"You'd prefer-"
"-to be with the other protagonists, yes. Protagonists, Shirazumi. Main characters. One of which is what I am. And you two are not."
"Eheheh..." Fujyou has a really annoying laugh, by the way. I'm mentioning that right now, but it applies retroactively. "...you're such a kidder, Asagami."
"Shuumatsu Rokuon disagrees."
"You know what?" I put my foot down. "Fuck Shuumatsu Rokuon. Fuck it with a rake. Getting your DDD shit all up in my Kara no Kyoukai? It's not on the menu!"
"I don't understand this irrational hatred you have of DDD, Shirazumi." says Fujyou.
"Well, of course you don't understand it; that's what 'irrational' mea-"
"Is it because Kaie is not only a better character in every way, but is also a better trap than you?" smirks Asagami.
"THAT FUCKING MEREM SOLOMON RIPOFF HAS NO RIGHT TO USURP MY TITLE!"
"The sad truth is that pretty much everyone in DDD is better-written than us." Fujyou looks downcast. "It's what years of development as a writer does to the author. In terms of artistic maturity, all of us are only one step above the original Fate manuscript from back when he was in high school. You know, the one with Anri from Durarara!! and that loli who's so far off the Mary Sue scale she makes Aoko look like a three-dimensional character."
"Aoko's three-dimensional enough as it is." Asagami drools. "Koyama's made sure of that; mmm-hmm."
"But Fujyou, there's something you're forgetting. We can't be only one step above Prototype. What about Notes? And Koori no Hana? And the original Mahoyo? There was plenty of time for his style to develop while the two of them were running Takebouki."
"Shirazumi, it's time you awakened to the truth."
"Didn't he already do that?" interjects Asagami. "I'm pretty sure that's what happened. Unless his interest with strange men in dark alleyways was entirely dif-"
"Hey, Asagami, has anyone ever told you you've got really pretty eyes?"
"W-" She looks shocked, and seems to blush involuntarily. "-what do you mean, I've-"
"'cause if you don't shut up, I'll pull 'em out and feed them to you." Smiiiirk. Anyway, back to Fujyou. "You were saying?"
"Notes could fit on the back of an envelope, Koori no Hana never existed to begin with, and neither did the original Mahoyo, probably. It's why the remake is taking so long." A voice tinged with deep despair. "We are, all of us, the products of a mind too twisted by chuunibyou to regain normal functionality. Fit only for the enjoyment of those similarly afflicted." A wistful stare out the window. "From cruelty such as this, death is the only escape."
"So go ahead and die already." spits Asagami. "I'm serious. You want, I'll take your head off right here. Shirazumi will be a good little trap and clean up the mess."
"Fuck you. Her body's, like, fifty percent tumours. I'll get food poisoning."
"Yes. And?"
I'm not going to dignify that rhetorical question with an answer. It's all posturing, of course. No-one's really going to die. If we kill people when we're off the clock, it's in breach of our employment contract - and no-one wants to be out on the streets in this economy.
A long silence passes, in foul looks, suppressed rage, and fifteen or so rounds of my favourite game, right-hand-versus-left-hand competitive rock-paper-scissors.
Poor, predictable rock. Another loss for you, lefty.
Then, suddenly, Fujyou says something.
"Oh."
"What?" I ask, allowing right to forfeit the game with grace.
"I forgot."
"You mean, you've just remembered."
She looks gloomier than usual.
"I don't have a swimsuit."
In that instant, Asagami and I lock eyes from across the train. At a level of discourse not accessible to ordinary humans, a silent accord is reached.
"Loser has to take her shopping."
"You're on."
"Rock-"
"-paper-"
"-scissors!"
"FUCK!"
* * * *
The train becomes a bus, and the bus becomes a bus stop. Fortunately, it's pretty much right next to the inn's entrance, so it's not like there's a long way to walk. Passing through a gate, we traverse a garden to arrive at the entrance, with a blue fabric divider hanging down from above. We pass under it, and-
"IRRASHAIMASEEEEEEEEE!!!"
-receive a greeting on the order of the detonation of a nuclear weapon. Atmospheric focusing effects mean there's still going to be enough psi of overpressure to knock down wooden buildings up to a hundred kilometres from ground zero. Radioactive fallout will be spread to the four winds, and will seep into the groundwater, contaminating this area for the next twenty-four thousand years. Needless to say, the inn is levelled instantaneously. Rebuilt in the space of a nanosecond, the owner of the voice stands before us, like a final boss in front of an endgame party. I return the orange-haired, earringed young man's steely gaze, secure in the knowledge that I'm better-looking than him.
"Sorry, I do that to all the guests. Helps to break the ice."
"At that volume, you could find employment as an actual icebreaker." I brush nine cubic metres of dust off my shoulders. "The Arctic ocean won't know what hit it."
Our staff member for the day is dressed in a formal men's kimono. It doesn't suit him in the slightest.
"Anyway, welcome to the Omakemiya Inn, a wholly owned subsidiary of the Tohno Group. The name's Inui. Arihi-"
"Yeah, don't care." Asagami steps forward. "Reservation for three. Under 'Araya'."
Moving behind a desk, our receptionist checks through a thick book of guests.
"Ah, yeah, got you right here. You would be...Miss Fujino Asagami, Miss Kirie Fujyou, and Miss Rio Shirazumi, right?"
Oh no you di-n't.
"Actuall-" Asagami stamps on my foot. "-ow! Why?!"
"Yes, we are."
"Excellent. Well, the room that's been reserved is in the second building, through the garden. Our mid-level package for six nights and seven days..."
I notice Fujyou tugging at my sleeve. I wonder what's up?
"What?"
"Um...I just thought...the Boss is paying for this, isn't he?"
Fujyou's eyes pass from me to Asagami, and in that moment, we understand each other completely.
"Mister Inui," I say, pushing forward, with the sweetest, sugariest smile you ever did see, "I noticed you mentioned 'mid-level package' just now; is it possible for us to obtain...an upgrade?"
"Ah...well, that depends on what you're aski-"
"Whatever's most expensive. If it's pre-booked, we'll pay...triple."
* * * *
Ogawa Mansion
For some inexplicable reason, Souren Araya feels a formless sensation of creeping dread.
"Now," continues the inspector, tapping his foot on the red-hot metal plate over the fire pit, "what is this, precisely? How is its expense justified?"
"Ah, that. Yes. That's the, ah...the...it's, um...well, you know-"
* * * *
Meanwhile
About a minute after those three head off to their new suite, another staff member, dressed the same as the orange-haired young man, returns from the bathroom. He's about the same age, dark-haired, with large, round glasses.
"I heard you greet someone." He yawns. "What'd I miss?"
"Tohno, I think this summer job your sister got us just paid off."
"Huh?"
"Two words: Babe. Alert."
"I'm going to need more details."
"Three really hot chicks just bought out the Fukuzawa Room for triple the going rate."
"I'm not going to need more details." With a flourish, he removes his glasses, brushing his hair aside as he does do. His face now betrays an entirely different character to what he appeared to be beforehand. "It's my time to shine - Nanaya o'clock!"
"You gotta sweep the garden path first. I'm taking a lunch break."
"Damn it."
* * * *
Later
There are two kinds of shopping. Shopping without a purpose, and shopping with a purpose. The former is called 'floating'; the latter, 'flight'.
Fujyou doesn't really have a reason; she just can't fly today.
Or, you know. At all.
Regard this simple clothes shop, a little way down the road from the inn. Mainly themed around beachwear; you know the type. They cater to visitors to the nearby Pacific coast. Furthermore, regard this simple changing room, its contents concealed from the world by a solitary wall of fabric, the only evidence of its occupant permeating out being phrases like this:
"Hmm...I'm not sure...I like that one, but this one's also good..."
...which have been repeating, on and off, for the past one and a half hours.
"Why is this taking so long? It's a fucking swimsuit! They're all the fucking same! It's like toothpaste! It's a parity product! They're all functionally indistinguishable, so manufacturers are forced to artificially magnify subtle distinctions through design and branding, which also allows them to inflate prices orders of magnitude beyond the cost of materials and manufacture! That is the true form of late-stage capitalism, Fujyou! That's what you're wearing! The swimwear industry is a river of money and greed and lies, and you are wallowing in it! LIKE A PIG! A PIG IN HUMAN CLOTHING!"
"You've just no soul for aesthetics, Shirazumi," says the curtain. "...oh, I think this one suits me. No...or maybe this one..."
"AAAAAAAGH!"
I turn around, and instantaneously very nearly run face-first into a shop attendant.
"Hi! Can I help you?" Ugh, kill me. She's so chipper and enthusiastic I want to choke her until the little blood bubbles come out of her mouth.
"Uh, no. I'm not, uh, looking for-"
"Really? Because we have a huge selection of new stock in just this week. If you're interested-"
"Ah - no. Look, I'm not really-"
"Aaah." She squints her eyes, and strokes her chin in what I imagine she imagines a sage fashion would be. "I understand."
"...excuse me?"
Her eyes are shining, wide and sympathetic. Like dinner plates, but less sympathetic.
"There's nothing to be ashamed of, Miss. Plenty of girls your age are insecure about their cup size. If it's truly a concern to you, there are alternatives to a bikini top-"
Twitch.
Must not stab, must not stab, must not stab-
* * * *
"I didn't stab her!"
"You were thinking it, though..."
Walking back to the inn, on the side of a tree-lined coastal street in the afternoon. Shadow-dappled sidewalk, cool sea breeze, et cetera. In Fujyou's hand is a white shopping bag. The (eventual) fruits of her three-hour paroxysm of indecision.
"Well," she says, "that was f-" She catches herself just in time. A glare from yours truly, dense with killing intent, convinces her to change her wording. Remember - you have fun, you lose. Them's the rules of the thread. "...I mean, that was worthwhile."
"That was in no way worth anyone's while."
"You got something out of it, though, didn't you?"
In my hands are four white shopping bags. All of them, full.
"Even after I cleared up that little misunderstanding, she just kept foisting this stuff on me! Goddamn pushy-"
"Eheheh. Could it be that you're the type who doesn't have the heart to say no to people? Who can't find it in themselves to hang up on telemarketers because they don't want to be impolite? You know, in the retail business, they call people like tha-"
"Shut up, or I will beat you to death with your own severed head."
* * * *
Soon afterwards, in a large, Japanese-style room with a low table in the centre and various chairs and other pieces of furniture off to the sides. There are windows, too. Off to one side, there's a sliding door which opens onto a similarly-sized room, where I take it futons are to be doing what futons do. Out another side, another set of sliding doors opens onto a verandah which in turn opens onto a private walled garden, featuring what appears to be the suite's very own personal open-air onsen. There's a bunch of other stuff, but that's not really worth the description. Like, for instance, Asagami.
"Oho? What's this?!"
"Your fellow minor characters." I say. "By 'fellow', of course, the implication being made is that you, yourself, are o-"
"Kill yourself. But really, really, what is this?~" She trills, sadistically examining the bags I dump on the floor. She pretends to gasp, theatrically. "Could it be? No - say it isn't so! Your pure waifu of anti-consumerist idealism has been violated by the groping tentacles of the market economy, and is now nothing more than a mind-broken shade of her former self who lives only for the next sale?!"
"Keep your perversions out of this. Doujinshi authors can't hope to grasp the subtleties of Marxist economic theory...except for Bomber Grape, of course."
"Perversions?" Mock shock. "How cruel! Everyone knows I'm by nature a sympathetic, virginal girl-next-door type, and any sexualised behaviour I exhibit is clearly a coping mechanism," mock wiping away tears, "to deal with my traumatic abuse at the hands of those hoodlums." And a smirk like the psychopath she is. "And is thus not my fault. As I am a victim."
"To think you're sacrificing your agency as a female character to score points with the audience by appealing to their Madonna-Whore complexes as White Knight bait par excellence..."
"It's a bold strategy, Shirazumi." Fujyou comments, from the other room. "Let's see how it works out for her."
"...YOU HEARTLESS BITCH! YOU'RE A DISGRACE TO FEMINISTS EVERYWHERE!"
"MUDA DA! With every insult you make against me, my representation as a passive, powerless victim only increases! Soon I'll have drained you two dry, and then I'll be strong enough to start leeching audience sympathy from Ryougi herself! And then-"
"You want to become a Sue? You're bat-shit insane!"
"-I will become the GODDESS of this new story! WAIKYOKU NO KYOUKAI - THE GARDEN OF WISTERIA!"
"I've walked this path ahead of you, Asagami! You're meddling in forces you don't understand! The tastes of the audience are beyond your comprehension, and change with every new season of anime! One year moeshit is in, the next it's out on the street - no-one can predict the weft and warp of the market! It's the Law of Cycles! We exist because it allows it - and we will end if it demands it!"
"You're wrong, Shirazumi! I can control it! The relationship is symbiotic!"
"Fool! You don't even realise you've been Indoctrinated! The Reapers cannot be controlled!"
"I'm glad you two are enjoying this..." Fujyou says, from behind me.
The air in the room freezes.
Both I and Asagami sit down, irritably.
"Nonsense. 'Enjoying', indeed."
"Impossible."
* * * *
A little later. Sitting around the central table. The sun is lowering in the sky; golden light filters onto the tatami mats.
"So."
"So."
"So..." says Fujyou. "...are we going to the beach?"
"Too tired from the trip." says Asagami. "Tomorrow."
"Too tired from shopping." I say. "Tomorrow."
"Yeah, I'm tired too..."
"Then why did you ask?!"
"I felt you two might want to go." She sounds gloomy. "And I would be left behind. Neglected. Abandoned. Just like my parents did to me!" Fujyou collapses forward onto the table in tears, but I don't really care. She'll get over it soon; it's just her misery fetish acting up. Anyway, she continues sobbing, getting the table all wet. "I have nothing left...I should just end it here..."
"And leave me to put up with this idiot-"
"-with this psychopath-"
"-for the rest of the week? How selfish can you get?!" Asagami looks pissed.
"Selfish...selfish beyond belief...I don't deserve to live...!" she wails.
"Ugh; this drama-queen act is such a pain." I scratch my head. "You know what your problem is, Fujyou? You've got too many emotions. Get rid of some."
"I don't know howwwww..."
"Whenever I feel emotions," adds Asagami, unhelpfully, "I stop feeling emotions, and kill people instead. And get away with it."
"I forgot, you're a sociopath."
"Pot. Kettle."
"Hey, I've got loads of emotions! I kill people with them all the time. Well, with knives too, but yeah. And I get away with it too."
"But how do I make the emotions go awaaaaay...?"
"Drugs. Booze. Murder."
"Masturbation." After saying this, Asagami cups her ear with a hand, and looks around quizzically. "My, who could have said that? Surely not me."
"Mountain climbing. Board games. Nature photography. Trashy shoujo manga."
"Aren't you just listing your interests now, Shirazumi?"
"How dare you accuse me of playing board games. I'll bite your eyelids off."
"You could always try having a bath, Fujyou. We have a private hot spring. It's just out in the garden, there."
"Would that..." She sniffs, and looks up. "...help?"
"Unquestionably. I've always wanted to see how much smaller your breasts are than mine."
"Asagami..." Fujyou's voice is, all of a sudden, a low hiss.
"Yeeees?" she replies, with a punchable smirk.
"Fall."
Fujino Asagami slams her head face-first into the table. Naturally, I point and laugh like a hyena. It's only after a brief moment of disorientation that she looks back up again. A small trickle of blood emerges from her nose.
"Ah, sweet victimhood." She sighs, dreamily. "Now I'm even less responsible for my actions!" She glares at me. "Stop laughing."
"Fine." In an instant, I'm all seriousness. "But you know, it's about time we start thinking about dinner. There's a menu somewhere around here."
"Too bad you won't find human on it. You'll have to put in a special request with the chef."
"Asagami, just how much blood do you want to lose tonight? Keep this up and I'll have to call the Red Cross; at least then you'll finally be useful to society."
"Joke's on them, I'm HIV positive."
Silence.
"...seriously?" asks Fujyou.
"No. But you wouldn't believe how much sympathy it gets m-"
"I hate you."
* * * *
Later
"So, I was thinking," I say, playing with the sleeve of my inn-provided yukata - seriously, how does Ryougi wear these all the time, they're so awkward - as I watch Fujyou poke at her grilled mackerel, "about that ghost-body thing you had going on back there."
"What about it?"
Asagami is mercifully absent from this conversation. She finished eating early and went to bed. I'm finished too, actually; Fujyou is just slow.
"It's basically a Stand, isn't it?"
"Not really..."
"Yes, really! It's a spiritual manifestation of weird-ass psychic powers or something. It can operate at your instruction. And it's got a unique ability which will give the protagonists three to four chapters' worth of trouble before they finally kick your ass."
"I'm an enemy Stand user?"
"Inducing people to commit suicide isn't really a protagonist skill."
"I guess..." She looks downcast.
"Question is, what would it be called?"
"How about 'Oblivious'?"
"No, no, no, you can't name a Stand after something from Japanese music...it's got to be Western."
"Why?"
"Because Araki's king of the westaboos. How about 'I Believe I Can Fly'?"
"Or 'Defying Gravity'?"
"From Wicked? Nah...that sounds more like a gravity-controlling ability. Although Pucci's C-Moon could do that, and that doesn't really scream 'gravity control' in its name, so..."
"How about 'I Hate Myself And Want To Die'?"
"A bit on the nose, I think, even for a Nirvana song. You need more subtlety."
"Just 'Nirvana' then."
"Nah, that sounds way too much like a Stand the final boss would have. Sticking with Nirvana the band, though, how about 'Come As You Are'?"
"No, no, I've got it..."
"What?"
"'No Fear'."
"What, by The Rasmus?"
"It's about suicide."
"Yeah...yeah, that works, actually. 'No Fear'." I raise a hand over my face, and position my fingers uncomfortably. "That's right, Jojo. This is the power of my Stand - NO FEAR!" I return my hand to a normal position. "I wonder what would happen if we pierced it with the Arrow. Would it evolve into No Fear Requiem? Because, honestly, that name is fucking awesome; it would have to do something totally rad. Time control or whatever. All the best Stands have some kind of time control."
"It'd still lose to GER, though..."
"That's doesn't mean much; everything loses to GER. Wait, hold on...holy crap. Your surname is Fujyou. So, if your given name began with 'Jou', then that'd make you a legitimate Jojo!" I point at her dramatically. "Are you sure you're not a long-lost descendant of the Joestar bloodline?!"
"If this is the SBR universe, anything is possible." She puts down her chopsticks, and looks sadly at her half-eaten fish. "There's a problem, though."
"What?"
"...we're nowhere near cool enough to be Jojo's characters."
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If you want a vision of the future, imagine a boot stamping on a human face, forever. Written on the boot is this fic. It's the three secondary antagonists of KnK trying and failing to enjoy their beach episode like normal human beings, having pointless conversations, making pointless references, and each resisting the overpowering temptation to violently murder the other two.
Araya as Il Palazzo. Both have underground headquarters with a throne upon which they sit. The connection is too obvious to ignore.
I like Fujino as she is in canon, but she's just too much fun to write as a sociopathic bitch.
Same with Kirie and her depressive, trolling ways.
Lio's pretty much the same as in MIAL, though.
Lio won't be the narrator all the way through. We'll switch around to the other two.
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Originally Posted by celsius
