12 / 10 / 2015
When they close the door behind me, I'm greeted by the sudden onset of dark-grey clouds and thick sheets of rain.
Officers pull open the iron gate and I've nothing but my arms to shield myself from the rain. My father's car pulls up in the driveway and I rush in the backseat, absolutely drenched.
The drive is silent from that point on, as rain splashes harshly against the windows and thunder sounds off in the clouds.
Months ago the prosecutor decided that I had gone above and beyond what constituted as justifiable self-defense.
To her credit, she did listen intently to my side of the story.
Kana's mother had been harassed by Masayoshi Shido over false accusations of money laundering; Kana, having heard what was going on, had rushed in to defend her mother. Shido, drunk and violent, had escalated the situation, and I had subdued him.
But she had also seen the files, the x-rays, the weapon I'd used, how much blood I'd spilt. Everything I had done to him. She brought up how he'd lost nearly a quarter of his teeth, how he was now blind in one eye, how I'd nearly destroyed vital nerves when I stabbed his leg, how if ever he would wake up he'd be stuck in a wheelchair at best—and in a vegetative state at worst.
In a vacuum, all these things would have pointed to this being an out-and-out assault, enough to have me tried as an adult.
So they took me to court.
When the evidence had been presented to the judges, they were more than a little queasy when reading through what I'd dealt upon Shido. Things only started really looking up when the only two witnesses willingly took to the stand. Kana & her mother vouched for me, and Kana herself was particularly emphatic when retelling the story, and was on the verge of breaking down more than once. But she'd regained her composure by the end of it all, enough to say plainly that "Nobody heard us."
Goro Akechi vouched that my story had matched Kana's. That the various bystanders he'd gotten to interrogate on the matter had either heard the incident take place and did nothing, or had arrived by the time I'd already bashed Shido's brains into the pavement.
On all accounts, I had defended Kana Kohaku and her mother from a violent assault.
But you don't just render someone, much less someone like Masayoshi Shido, comatose and walk off scot-free.
Cybers had very strong connections with media outlets all across the country. All Dad had to do was ask. They kept Kana and myself and her mother away from the public eye, which was all I could've asked for and more. It helped that I was still a minor; Japanese courts are big on discretion when it comes to juvenile offenders.
But all that said, I still have a stain on my record. A large, black stain that'll hound me 'til the day I die. At the very least, my identity and the identities of those close to me, were kept completely under lock-and-key.
"A year in juvenile detention," the judges had decreed then. "After his release, he'll be assigned a probationary officer until he turns twenty. It's also recommended for him to undergo regular therapeutic sessions and psychiatric evaluations."
It surprised me then that being thrown in jail, and being legally mandated to undergo therapy, didn't really faze me at all.
What got to me and still gets to me is the fact that, throughout the trial, Kana looked like she was dying inside. The fact that whenever their eyes would meet mine it was like they didn't even recognize me anymore. The fact that Masako on the other hand was always just darting her big round eyes every which way because she didn't know a thing.
The fact that Dad's expression never changed, even once, throughout the whole thing. I had barely even seen him blink.
That last day in court, Kana's mother and my father conversed for a very short while, and while I was not able to discern what they were saying over the bustle of the courtroom, the conversation didn't last very long and Kana—and I couldn't even talk to her, I couldn't talk with her, I couldn't even say a single word and as I was pulled out of the courtroom she kept looking at me like she didn't want me to go.
My left hand, the one I'd used to crush Shido's features, doesn't stop shaking the whole drive home.
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12 / 15 / 2015
It's a few days later that Dad takes the time out of his busy work schedule to greet his son after his stint in jail. I am called to meet him in his study.
Dad is passionless when I see him sitting at his desk. There's a certain special kind of cold in his eye the likes of which I've not seen before, so I suppose that's new.
Across from his desk I pull up a small wooden chair and the whole time he keeps his hands tented together and the way he looks at me it's almost as if he wants me to hate being alive.
"You wanted to see me?"
"You'll be moving schools next year," Dad says suddenly.
"What—?"
But before I can even get out the What fully, he says, "Kishibaru's already requested you transfer. I've arranged for you to head to Shujin Academy, it's a bit deeper in Tokyo, but it's deep enough for you to keep a low profile. You'll be attending the eleventh grade again. You've been assigned to a man named Takuto Maruki. He'll be your probationary officer and psychiatrist. You have until April."
He knows what he's doing, like he always does. And I can't help but agree that this is the only option we can take.
But it doesn't make it hurt that much less.
"What, do you want more time?" he scoffs.
"No."
"Don't look so sullen."
I rub my upper arm, "Can't exactly help that."
"Then try. It's shameful."
"Sorry that I'm such a shame to you, Dad."
"You never were." I narrow my eyes at him. "Do you think I am ashamed of you?"
I recall his eyes, at the trial. He kept himself all stoic; back then, I could've sworn he was boiling inside. "Why wouldn't you be."
"You've done shameful things. But you're my son."
"Right, I'm so special to you. So special you didn't even visit me once—"
"Did your girl visit you, either?" I don't answer. "I suppose not."
He's completely right.
Kana hadn't visited me once throughout my stay. I've been messaging her since I've gotten back and have gotten virtually no responses.
"She defended you, in court. She was terrified the whole time. I saw how she was shaking. But she put herself out there anyway, just to give you a fighting chance. You should feel honored she was willing to go that far."
"Are you trying to comfort me?" I hiss.
"Take whatever comfort you can get from that, if you can find it. The fact of the matter is that she's done much for you already. The both of you would be better off separated from each other."
"Y'know, you're probably right on that front."
She looked at me a certain way. That night, when I—brutalized, tortured, violently assaulted, nearly murdered, rendered braindead—did what I did to Shido.
Most of the year I spent in my cell, I spent thinking of the face she wore then.
"Perhaps this is of some comfort," he breathes. "I would've likely done the same thing to that man, were I in your shoes."
I narrow my eyes at him. "That's messed up, Dad."
"If I had seen him doing that to your mother, I would've likely done worse."
"You wouldn't—that's crazy."
"No. It's evidence of sanity, more than anything else."
I chuckle, "Then why do they want me to go to therapy?"
"Because you could've slit his throat and been done with it. But you did so much more."
"I feel so stupid."
"What's done is done."
"Maybe therapy might actually be good for me," I clear my throat. "I..."
"You what?"
I sit up in my bed and face him, "I...that whole time...when I..."
"You what?"
"When I did what I did to Shido...I felt like I was somewhere else. Like I...wasn't even really there at all. Almost like I was dreaming."
He purses his lips. "Have you told anyone else this...?"
"Just that detective who questioned me. Akechi. Not even Kana knows."
He lays a hand on my back. "I'm sure it was just nerves. Considering what was happening..."
I turn to him and he stays silent, gives me space to talk. I nearly tell him how I had really felt, bashing his skull into the concrete.
But before I can even say a single word my phone rings back.
Kana.
Are you free today?
I immediately get up off the chair and head towards the door—
"Are you going to see her?"
I whirl back to face him, "Of course I am."
"She's trouble."
"Not for me."
"Especially for you," he grunts. "She was shaking at the trial because she was scared. Not because of the judges or the fact that she had to recount her trauma—it was because you were in the same room as she was."
Old man who doesn't even emote, telling me what my girlfriend felt towards me? "What the hell do you know?"
"I know that if she weren't scared, she'd have visited you at least once."
"So why didn't you visit me?"
"I was busy cleaning the mess you'd made."
"What?"
He shakes his head, "Go. Do whatever you'd like with this girl."
And I march out, refusing to look back at him even once.
I force myself to be confident and I tap a few buttons on my phone.
One ring. Two rings. Three.
"Kazuya?"
God, if You're there, thank you for letting me hear her voice again, at least for now. "I'll be there in a few minutes."
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.
.
Kurogawa drives me there relatively quickly. I pay him for all his troubles and send him off back to Dad without a hitch.
She and I are in her room.
Like old times. Masako's snoozing away in her crib and she's gotten so much bigger since the last I'd seen of her. Pretty sure the wooden frames won't hold her, at this rate. Kana lets me peer my hand in, and I lightly stroke her small cheek with the back of my fingers.
"Has she been reading?" I whisper to Kana.
She lets herself smile, "We finished The Little Prince a month ago."
"That's great," I smile back.
The two of us sit ourselves down upon the kotatsu and I let myself get a better look at Kana. She's allowed her hair to become matted and bundled up, leaving her perpetually looking like she's just woken up. She's still wearing that red scarf, but honestly, I'd have been shocked to see her without it. She's somehow developed more freckles beneath her eyes, but if anything, that's a point in her favor.
"I'm sorry we didn't visit you."
"I get it," I shrug.
"Mom wanted us to lay low, I kept telling her we should visit at least once, but she—"
I look into her eyes, "It's fine."
She purses her lips, "You must've been frustrated, at least a little..."
"I missed you. But you're here now. I'm here now."
"How...," she very nearly stammers over her words there, "how have you been? If you don't mind me asking...?"
And her eyes change. They shift. It's subtle enough that anyone unfamiliar with Kana's various expressions or inflections would likely miss it. But I see it, I see it clearly.
Why do you look like you're staring at a time bomb.
"Well," I scratched the back of my head. "Prison wasn't that bad, all things considered. I kept to myself, they kept to themselves. In that sense it didn't feel too different from school."
She nearly allows herself to laugh then, but she stifles it with a light smile. "Kinda dark of you to compare it to school, don't you think?"
I wince a little, giving a light smile of my own, "I suppose. But, well. I'm happy to be out, all things considered."
"I'm happy Mom finally allowed me to bring you back here," she nods. Though soon enough her expression turns sour. "How could they do that to you...?"
"What?"
"Throw you in there for a year?" she grunts, gritting her teeth. "You didn't deserve it at all."
"How have you been?" I cut in.
She shakes her head, "Me? What about—?"
"Prison's boring."
"Kazuya..."
"I want to know how you've been," I tell her firmly. "I've been very worried about you."
"I've been worried about you, too."
"Why?" I shake my head, my left hand trembling again— "I mean, I wasn't the one who—"
"But you were the one who took the fall."
Damn it. That look. It's grown fiercer, more agitated. "Yes, but you—"
"You're the one who got thrown in jail for something that I—" she scowls. Her hands ball up into fists and they too begin trembling. "You didn't deserve that, you didn't deserve any of that. If anything, I should've been—"
"Why are you so concerned about me? You're the victim in all this. If I hadn't done what I did, then he would've—!"
"But you shouldn't have to—!" she cries and stops herself.
And I take her shaking hands. "You know I couldn't just let him do that to you."
She looks like she's on the verge of tears. She won't even face me. But she doesn't take my hands off of hers.
"You scared me."
"I did?"
"The whole time...as you beat him down, into the pavement. You were smiling."
"I was?"
"You were."
I recall how it had felt to see his blood pour on the hot concrete. His twisted and bloated features. His teeth mangled and stuck in my hand. "I was."
"You saved me and my mother," she continues. "I'll never ever forget that. But..."
"But what?"
"I saw you then. I saw what you were doing, what you looked like. I thought that you'd...changed," she says. "When I saw you, it was almost like you weren't even..."
She doesn't want to say. She keeps her eyes groundward, away from me. But she remains close, never tries pushing me away.
I cup her cheek and have her face me. She won't look at me, but she won't turn away, either. "I'm still here. Right in front of you."
She purses her lips, "I got all this blood on your hands."
"No, I did," I grab her by the shoulders, have her face me. "I chose to do what I did."
"Why, why would you—?"
God damn it, "Kana."
"I nearly made you a murderer—"
"What did I tell you about blaming yourself?"
"My mother threw herself in with Shido because I couldn't get enough money for Masako on my own," she puts her hands over her eyes, "that whole thing, right there, all of that would never have happened if I hadn't, if I'd never—if I'd-"
"If what?"
"If I hadn't been so stupid and careless-"
"What are you even-?"
"I-I almost, I almost, you don't even know, I-" she's shuddering, grinding her teeth, the tears are pouring endlessly, "you don't even know me and you nearly killed someone for me-"
"Kana, please, I-"
Suddenly I hear a wailing noise come from the crib. Masako's crying out now, crying like her mother; Kana's covering her face with her hands and the more she cries the louder she raises her voice.
My left hand trembles as I try to keep Kana close to me, unable to think or do or say anything at all that could possibly try to calm her down, I'm adrift as my head tries to point to a million different things I can try just so that they stop crying, please stop crying, God make them stop crying-
Suddenly the words hit me. All the right words I could possibly say. I'm about to say them and I'm willing to hope that she listens, even for a little bit.
Then the door swings open with such force that it hits the wall with a bang.
Kana and I turn.
Someone's standing in the door frame and for a few moments I'm unable to recognize her at all. Her hair is frayed, so wild and unkempt it completely covers her face. She's holding a kitchen knife in their hands and her movements are jerky, harsh, shambling. She's wearing a white nightgown and blood's pouring from her wrists, upon the wooden floorboards.
When she trudges into the room she does so with her arms limply hanging downwards. Her whole upper body is arched forward as though she's hunchbacked; yet when she raises her head to the light of Kana's room, her hair sweeps back and we see her-
"M-Mom...!?"
Kana's mother lets out an inhumane growl, her eyes having rolled so far back into her head that I can no longer see her pupils.
Kana's mother raises the knife and when she does her dangling arms tighten their joints- she makes a sweeping, slashing motion as she screeches, I push Kana away from me and we just barely dodge the knife.
Kana's mother just keeps screaming and won't stop. She grabs Kana by the hair and Kana's screaming too, raising her hands and crying out Mom why are you doing this Mom please Mom stop dear God Mom what are you-!?
She throws Kana to the ground and begins stomping upon her face, the knife still in-hand, and she's howling madly like a dog and Masako's still bawling.
"Get off her," is the only thing I manage to say before I black out.
By the time I can see again I've slipped my hands under the madwoman's arms but she has the strength of a man possessed-she tears herself away from my grip and whirls around and I see her, I see her goddamned eyes, I see the veins popping in her sclera and the whites have turned into reds themselves.
Something searing and hot runs through my shoulder and I scream-when she tears the knife from my shoulder she doesn't even give me a second before she sends it into my guts and uses her weight to send us careening down upon the kotatsu, which buckles and breaks in two upon impact.
And she raises the bloody knife up into the air and her screams turn into laughter, streams of blood running down from her eyes and her wrists and smattering all over-
She brings it down and I've just enough strength to grab her hands and keep the knife half an inch away from my left eye-
"Kazuya!"
I tell Kana to"Get Masako the hell outta here!" because my shoulder hurts so much and my guts are bleeding and I'm gonna die, I'm absolutely gonna die here but Kana & Masako have to be safe.
She's frozen in place for one, maybe two seconds, but she returns to her senses at just the right time. She wraps the still crying Masako in her little blankets and the two of them run, run past me and her mother.
So she tears her arms away from my grip and she raises the knife again, about to plunge it into my guts for a second time.
But a loud KRRSH rips through the air, because Kana's just smashed a small flowervase into her mother's face.
Kana's mother agonizes because she's got a faceful of ceramic and blood pouring down her forehead and her eyes. I'm too delirious to even hear what Kana's saying but she stretches out her hand and I take it and we run out the door as Kana's mom charges-
Before she can get us we rush out into the hallway and slam the door shut. We press our arms against the door to keep her from barging through but she keeps ramming herself against it, her howls growing more and more enraged. Kana's mother keeps screaming, I hear thumping noises,
she's trynna stab through the door but the wood's too thick, she won't be able to get us not nearly soon enough.
"Mom, dear God would you just stop!?" Kana cries out, "Mom, please...!"
Masako just keeps crying, sitting in the hallway and watching us try to keep her grandmother from killing us, so I tell Kana, "Get a chair and prop it up against the doorknob."
"O-okay...!"
The second she lifts her hands away from the door her mother rams herself into it again and the force breaks the goddamned doorknob, breaks it into pieces- "Damn it!"
We both push back against the door again, ramming it back in kind.
She's running on adrenaline or something. We can't move. We can't budge away. The second we do she's going to grab at least one of us and stab us to death, and as I hear her screams howl off into the night and hope to God someone's calling the cops, I look at Kana-
She's terrified and crying and trying so hard to keep everything together, Masako won't stop bawling either, their faces are completely red and their eyes are swollen and if God could grant me one wish it's that I could get the strength to do to Kana's mom what I did to Shido-
Before either of us knew it, the pounding, the thrashing against the door had stopped itself. "Kana?"
"M-Mom...!?"
"Kana, what's...happening...?"
"Wh-why am I even...? Oh God, what did I do...!?"
"M-Mom-!"
"We can't open the door," I tell her.
"Mom, what the hell just happened...!?"
"Call 110," I tell Kana, "while we can, call 110 now!"
"My phone's in the room with her...!"
"Landline!" I shout. "You have one downstairs, don't you!?"
"I can't just leave you here-!"
"She stabbed me in my stomach!" I shout at her, and her eyes dart to my bleeding guts and my wounded shoulder and she's horrified, "It's only a matter of time before I-"
"Kana, what's happened!?" her mom shouts from the other side, "I-I, why am I covered in blood-!?"
"Get you and Masako out of this house NOW!"
"Please, K-Kazuya open this door, I'm begging you!" her mother cries, "What did I just do!? Where's Masako!? Please, please tell me, what have I done!? Kana, please, oh God I'm so sorry, what did I just do!?"
"M-Mom...I...!"
"Did I hurt any of you!? I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean it...! It wasn't me, I swear! Kana, Kazuya please open this door!"
"Just get her out of here, get her out of here Kana," I beg and plead and hope to God she listens.
Kana's eyes grow hazy, almost like she's about to faint. But though her hands tremble and her knees bend close and she wants me to come with her more than anything, she knows what she has to do next. Though she bundles Masako up in her arms she looks at me all the while.
I just nod, and with that she whirls around and runs to the staircase, Masako buried in her chest-
"For once in your life could you just be useful and open the goddamned door YOU STUPID LITTLE WHORE—"
—I remember too late that the crib inside the room has wheels.
The door flies open from the force as the crib bursts into wooden frames and splinters. I'm sent to the floor and I see her, she grabs me by my hair and I'm about to cry, I'm begging her, begging her to just stop, she's killing me, she's going to kill us—
Something pierces my midsection and the cut is deep and the slice is wide. My legs give way and I clutch my guts because they're rushing out my stomach in a flood of red.
I'm gasping for air but I hear sirens coming, I'm crawling along the floorboards as red gushes down, I'm going to die, I'm literally dead, every time I try gathering my entrails in, the more I press my hands against the wounds, the more I feel the blood lapping down, down, down.
Soon enough I hear Kana and Masako crying louder and louder, I can't get it out of my head the sound of her weeping is crawling into my eardrums and I can't get it out of my head and I want it to stop I want it to stop and Kana's begging and pleading, crashing and thrashings and loud hammering noises—
So I crawl, as blood pools out, my hand feebly keeping everything in for just a little while longer. But I've only enough energy to make it to the banister.
From there I see them, in the living room of their house. Kana's desperately trying to escape but her mother's blocking the front door.
I see furniture trashed and thrown about; picture frames shattered all across the floor. Little tables broken into pieces, books torn to shreds. Plates, bowls glasses, and utensils shattered into pieces across the kitchen floor. Wallpaper knifed at and ripped open, walls broken into.
The mother says such terrible things, about how it was Kana's fault someone named Kouta would never look at her, about how Kana had ruined their family ages ago, strange and terrible nonsense about a husband--Kana has to keep moving, keep moving or she'll die, keep moving or her mother will kill them like she's killed me but before she can move anymore Kana's mother drops the knife and tears Masako away from Kana.
Masako's crying and crying louder and louder and I can't get it out of my head the sound of her weeping is crawling into my eardrums and I can't get it out of my head and I want it to stop I want it to stop and Kana's begging and pleading, "No, no Mom no please why are you doing this—" but to no avail because right before her eyes Masako's body falls like a boulder.
Masako stops crying.
Kana immediately dashes for her daughter, screaming madly and violently and howling in horror, but she's held back—and Kana's mother just punches her in the eye and the punch is enough to send her to the ground. She continues punching over and over again, and the punches are all hard enough to make that unmentionable wet crunch you'd get when bone hits pavement. By the end of it Kana's face is swelled and purpled, and she's fading-she spurts out blood from her purpled lips, crying out blood and tears from puffed-up eyes that can't even open.
Her mother rises to her feet-hands now splintered with bone, fingers mangled, blood all over her clothes-her eyes are the deepest shade of blood-red and she's letting out this groaning noise that I will never ever forget, for it sounds like a demon's inside of her trying to claw its way out through her mouth.
The last thing I hear is a wailing woman, crying out in unknowable terror over what she's done to her own family. Her cries last the whole night, even as she brings the knife down on her own grandchild, and turns the whole living room red.
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12 / 17 / 2015
I awaken to a beeping noise, and an oxygen mask on my face.
It's a small room, with a pale cream shade painted over the walls. There's a very sterile sort of smell.
"You're awake…"
I see my father sitting next to the bed, wearing a thick overcoat and sporting dark circles under his eyes. He rises up the second I turn to face him, but before I can even speak to him I feel something in my torso burn and ache like it's been struck by a hammer—
And I let everything come to me—when it does , it hits like a truck. My memories begin pouring back and I'm left terrified and shaking I feel right about ready to cry, I shudder and scream with spikes in my guts that grow larger the more I try to produce sounds, and I see my father—
"Just, just stop for a second—"
—he's pushing me back into the bed trying to get me to calm the hell down, and his goddamn face doesn't even budge an inch, but I can't care I can't even look at him, he doesn't even matter now—Kana's here, somewhere, bleeding and broken or quite possibly dead and I need to see her—
As my breaths heighten I feel an unstoppable urge to just throw myself out of this bed I'm stuck in and try to find Kana, I nearly tell my father to stop holding me back because I need to find her, I need to help her, she's dead—she's dead, Masako's dead, her mother killed them both and I couldn't do a single goddamned thing to—
"Hikawa-san, stop!" I turn.
I see that detective who had aided me, all the way back in my trial. He moves himself closer to the bed, still seated in his chair, and speaks to me. "You were very lucky. Doctors had said you'd lost a good amount of blood, there. But you have to rest now."
And I try speaking to him, but when I try to make a sound I feel my midsection catch fire—
"Don't try to talk!" he says, brushing past my father as he tries to force me to stay in bed. "If you talk, you'll aggravate your wounds—"
"Where—" is all I can manage, and I feel as though my throat's bleeding as I try— "Where is she!?"
"You have to calm down!"
How the hell can you expect me to be calm?
Is the question that makes itself clear on my face. Neither my father nor Akechi budge. So Akechi grabs both my shoulders. "Kana Kohaku is alive."
And tears stream down my eyes right then and there. I nearly break out into a smile if not for the memory of her mother, of Masako, and I want to ask him about what had happened, if what I dreamt was just a dream, if all that carnage and violence had never actually happened and it was something I made up in my sick messed up little head—
So I grab him by the arm and I beg and I plead, "Masako. Please."
He doesn't say anything back, because he doesn't need to. He just closes his eyes and lowers his head.
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12 / 20 / 2014
Kana's eyes are black and there are bandages covering her arms and her legs. She is saying the same thing over and over again, something I almost don't understand because she's speaking in a tone of voice that's makes whispers sound like screams. She's barely moving, she's sitting up and staying still and she looks almost like she's died in this position.
She is not even looking at me, she's looking at her hands. Looking at her hands through eyes so puffed up she most likely shouldn't be able to see. Her hospital gown is covering so many more wounds, I'm sure. I motion to hold her, to take her in my arms and embrace her, because what else can I do? but then she shirks away from me almost immediately, grasping at her upper arms and breathing heavily as she's shaking and shuddering.
She's shuddering and she wants to cry and my hands are throbbing and I want to cry and I just want to hold her, I just want to talk to her, I just want her to smile because I know she never will again, not after this.
But then as I feel a hand on my shoulder, I hear what Kana's muttering and somehow someway I find myself able to understand it, despite it not being loud enough to register on any human frequency at all.
"I am a curse."
When we return to my room I write to Goro Akechi everything that had happened. But as I write to him more and more, I begin crying and I can't stop the tears but I keep on relaying details because that's what I do when I'm scared or sad all the details just rush in my brain and I take all of it in and I need to get it all out before it eats at me from the inside and I choke and weep and bawl my eyes out.
While I'm crying, Akechi lays a hand on my back to try and soothe my nerves in at least some fashion-but I can't stop crying because Kana's dying inside and Masako's already dead and I saw all of it happen and couldn't stop it at all, weak and useless and wretched and damned.
There will be no justice to be had here. There is no trial because there is no one who can be prosecuted.
Kana's mother had plunged the knife into her heart before police arrived on the scene.
My father's expression is as cold and dispassionate as ever. But even as I lay myself into bed he never leaves my side.