The Cicada

The sound of the cicada is, to most foriegners, annoying and a nuisance that belonged to the night. But to Japanese residents, who have to endure this everyday, think of it as a bird's song sung  by insects.

Tokyo, Japan

1872

The ash swam across the horizon and came to rest at a peak of it's similars. But, its rest was unnoticed and uncared for as a simple whiff of the wind sent it on a new journey, back on the unsteady wave of the horizon. A body swiftly dashed past it, tossing it towards the blazing fire where it was burned to nothing. Her heavy, shaky breathing came with sharp pain as her heart palpitated, sometimes skipping a beat or two. They were like drums clogging her brain and pounding against her chest; crying to be released from it's prison. Every kick of her bare, ashed feet would send the long, black strands of hair slapping across her bloodstained cheeks. The ground's unearthy contents skidded as she stopped behind a building for a moment and looked around the wall's edge. Long, luminescent trails of sweat ran down her face, her neck and uninvitingly invaded her chest. She leaned her back against the only unscathed building within a few leagues.

Her ragged attire told a story; A story of sadness and grief. A story worth lamenting on and was never mended to. The story of sadness that had become her.

The smell of ash, fire and blood tainted the air and brought it south towards the Hirsugiminen city of the dead where it belonged. The buildings burned and toppled over themselves adding to the ash and fire that became the streets below.

She edged closer, blocking from her mind, the unwanted thoughts. Her target was there, standing idly, unaware of the misfortune that was about to befall him. She groped her fingers tighter at the handle of the large silver metal. It now shone crimson red, the color of the raging devil it reflected. Her fragmented memory, the epicenter of all this chaos, was now becoming whole.

"You're nothing but a street rat. You either steal or starve. Either kill or die." Those words were what had kept her pressing on in the despairing cycle of life.

She breathed out a sigh of tiredness and fear. Fear not for herself but for the one whose life she was about to take. The man ushered a child to go on and join with the evacuating crowd. A sinister child who had been told not to call him father even though he was rightfully that. Even so, the man had accepted it. He had smiled when he found out. He was honest and kind, brave even. Those were his faults.

They were the reason. . .Those were the blossoms he were sprouting onto others to which I had to cut down. He had to die.

Meirochi district, Japan

2001

The Torihikaichi Roof

The scorching devil was being a tease today. Still, I had done my daily routine and had cursed it. I stared down at the view protruding from the building's walls and cursed it's unneeded existence as well. A soft breeze blew across my face, either acknowledging my grief or was against it and was trying to get me to calm. I listened for it's answer.

It blew across my whole body and face, whispering past my earlobe and vibrating it's inner walls. It told it's stories, secrets that it had happened to watch as it passed by them. But to hear and understand the wind's chatter was an inconceivable yet attempted effort by man. It simply tickled my ear and went on it's way, telling it's secrets to all who were meticulous and interested enough to listen.

I sighed, an action that I've been doing a lot lately. It was a sigh of boredom and tiredness. A skill I had attained the very moment I had entered this high school. The Torihikaichi building, the senior to the middle school called the Mirutsuhikaichi and the kindergarten, the Senaihikaichi building. All apart of the same school, Meirochi Adokawa.

A whole school solely for girls. One of the rarest institutions in all of Japan. For in this time, in the early 2000s, women would have been lucky to have made it past middle school. This school, for being what it is, had gotten a huge reputation along with it's other unique features and it's nickname:

The school hidden in despair.

She could only see a little- from where she was standing,  facing east of the district- past the school's newly trimmed green lawns, unto the luscious green plains; a small forest reffered to as Aota which meant 'Sea of grief' for many had died there and their bodies had rot, unburied. It's trees were green and bright, shining in the sun. Beyond that, the only other visible structure differing from the town's jutting roofs was the Sensō Toshi Tower. An extremely large infamous clock tower to which was rarely used for a tourist attraction or a playground or hideout for few curious Japanese residents. It, like me, was treated with disregard. It may not have been the most majestic sight but it held a mysterious alluring scent that should easily overpower anyone. But, even though it was such an extreme view, as the first year teachers would say, she considered it simple, boring and dull. A view attainable whenever you decided to move to the countryside.

She leaned against the building's guardrail and sighed. And as if to sever her growing tranquility, the sound of a door clicked open, letting on the roof, the secondary presence of the first year classic literature teacher, Serena Hiragi. She walked up to me timidly and shyly as a grade school student would. But I knew why she was like that, even though the initial reason, I had gained my own sort of respect through my condescending tone.

"Aota-san. . ." She had used my last name with honorifics. Even though it was only natural, it gave me the feeling of superiority I wanted. The sort of superiority that my heart had desired. "Classes have already begun. . .Your presence is requested."

Delinquency wasn't tolerable here or anywhere else, and those that were under that title, were treated mercilessly for even the most simplistic offence. But I wasn't a delinquent. To this school, I was more like an unauthorized God. But the reason they feared me, the way I used that power, I had intentionally gave off the impression of the Devil.

My father was the reason for all this attention. He, having a rare 'supposed job' to which frightened every soul. He was a terrorist. Not something I felt proud of but something that had held me together in every way. He was never caught, even though they knew his home address. The district constables had threatened to take me like the mafia does a child for ransom, his only child,  but had had their whole institution blown up because of the threat.  The military was too busy with ongoing wars to pay attention to a matter as miniscule as my father. Since he never terrorized anyone who did'nt terrorize him. An he wasn't after any political aim, he was what he was because it had felt fun to do harm to those who threatened you. But his reaction was always too severe.

"So, she speaks." I said lightly. I knew it was offensive but that was the reason I had said it. I was going to keep my reputation,  withhold it until I grew up. And then. . .I don't know what after that. "Go back to where you came from teach. I'm up here for a reason. And that is to be left alone."

The teacher nodded, prostrated and left. Life wasn't going to change, was it? The sun gave up on trying to punish me and slowly retreated over the mountains. My eyes had gotten dreary after staring out at the same scenery every eight hours on school days. The teachers were fairly obnoxious in my opinion, they should be glad I cared to come to school at all.

There were voices of children changing from their indoor to their outdoor shoes. The large horde of female students all exited the building at once, as usual.

I focused my gaze on a trio towards the left of the crowd. A trio that for some reason, always did something intriguing on their way from school.

"*Cough* *Cough.*"

"Darn cold still hasn't let up yet?"

"So, no karaoke today either huh?"

"Yeah, Mitsumi, not until she feels better."

"Uugh. Darn cold indeed."

"Sorry guys."

The trio kept moving on again. It was like this everyday ever since one of the trio was sick. They didn't do anything but go home, hoping for it to pass. I was really like a god. Having such a reputation without any apparent reason of existing. So I'd just stand, staring from the roof down at those who were fortunate enough to have friends.

And just like that, staring out at the perpetual scenery,  night fell and wearily I decided to go home. There were two reasons I had to leave anyway. The first was,  I was starving and needed to be relieved with teriyaki or a home cooked meal. I headed towards the door that the classic literature teacher had come through and opened it. The second was, the last teacher to leave school as usual would be doing her rounds soon and she'd lock the school after that so I had to leave now.

My heart skipped a beat. At first, the black casting silhouttes had blackened the top half of her small body making her seem like a dead body in the corner. But then, her body shifted and her large eyes opened.

A small girl was sitting in the corner. Her grade school uniform was stained with blood that was made pitch black under the shadows. A bloody knife lay on her lap. She sat up and looked up at me.

I took a step back. Should I run? Where? But then, I noticed something odd and it gave me a peculiar feeling. Unlike the teachers and timid grade schoolers who looked at me with fear, unlike the upperclassmen who looked down at me with pity and hate. . .This girl, she looked at me with utmost interest. Her eyes grew wide and she opened her mouth to speak, a sweet tone in her voice.

Unlike mine. Much unlike mine.

"Are you afraid?" She asked. Even though her voice was small, her words stung. I couldn't be afraid. I was the one who had gained the demonic reputation and the nickname, Devil Shoujo. I didn't step back once more, I stared her dead in the eyes.

"No, I'm not." I said bluntly even though the pipes in my chest threatened to burst. The girl smiled.

"Good." She then turned her head away,  apparently noticing my petrified gaze. "I didn't have a choice. I had to kill him."

So the thought I had turned on to be true. This little girl had killed someone and was brave enough to admit it without having being asked.

"Kill? Who?"

She changed the topic of discussion. Her body had shifted and there was a frown on her face,  revealing uncomfortableness but not regret.

"You were just leaving right? Can I walk with you?"

"I, uhh. . ." The thought of walking with a possible murderer was unsettling but if such a thing were to be noticed, it'd probavly boost my reputation. I wasn't even sure why I wanted to. After all those years of being shunned, the feeling kind of got to me. "I guess."

"I can understand your insecurity." She said, her choice of words making her sound older than her age. "But you need not fear me. I would never harm someone like you."

Her voice sounded genuine. But this was the voice of decievers.

"I said I wasn't afraid." I retorted.

"Your voice betrays your words, Aota-san." She said holding out her hand for me to lift her up. I did so, but with caution. Watching her every move so as to dodge an attack.

"How do you know my name?"

It seemed that she was preparing for that answer. We started to descend the stairs and she placed the knife into her pocket. I sighed in relief.

"Two simple reasons. Your reputation. The fact that your father is a terrorist and you act a bit out there. The second reason, I'm sure you don't want to discuss it."

I sighed. Even grade schoolers knew me. Her next words surprised me, catching me off guard.

"You're a very interesting girl, Aota-san. Don't worry, I'm not like the rest." Even though her usage of the word girl was somewhat bellitling, it felt good.

I was shocked for a moment and was about to answer when I heard a cough from another room. A familiar sound. The little girl walked off to where it was coming from and I followed behind.

"She's going to die." The girl said simply, staring through the window. In the classroom, as we looked through the square, dusty glass of the door, the scene of a girl coughing and her friend trying frantically to help her came into view.

"Stop worrying so bad Takeda." The one coughing said. She was sitting in a seat and was sorrounded by all sorts of medical instruments. "I know you're in the medical club and all but. . .Mitsumi is probably all alone at home right now. You should go."

"No!" The girl was crying. "You've been like this since the last two weeks and the hospitals won't take this seriously. . ."

"And neither should you."

"She's going to die." The girl repeated beside me.

"How are you so sure?" I asked. "Its just common cold."

"Not common cold. It's Hirsugiminen. Look at the rag."

I looked back at the scene. There, in the fretting girl's hand was a white rag covered with dark splotches.

"This sickness is pure evil." She continued. "It toys with your body, giving you pain for two whole weeks. Then, out of nowhere, you'd suddenly die. Not to mention it's contagious."

"How do you. . ." I was about to inquire about her mysterious knowledge when shouts interrupted me.

"Ami-san? Ami-san! Ami-san!" I could understand what was happening without having to witness it.

The little girl just stared at them as if it were simply being portrayed in a movie.

"Close the door." She said to me.

"Huh?"

"She'll want to escape or call for help and she's probably been infected by her friend so you have to lock her in until she dies because only then does the disease leaves the body."

"I. . .I"

The little girl shoved past me and locked the door. The sound of the clicking latch alerted the girl on the inside who was now crying. She got up and dashed for the door. She started to bang against it,  noticing that it was locked and screamed.

"Help! She needs help! Or else she's going to. . . Anyone?!"

Pain and guilt stabbed at my heart. I had a reputation of being evil. A monster. But I was human,  I was sure of that. So to sit there and watch someone die was overbearing. I halfheartedly reopened the door. Uncaring of the consequences and what the little girl might've thought of me. The girl's eyes brightened upon noticing the opening of the door and it made me feel happy for some reason.

"Thank. . ." But the girl stopped talking upon recognizing my face and took a step back. "Aota-sama?" She seemed to choke on her words. Her choice of honorifics and the way she said it; she spoke to me as if I had authority over her very soul.

She hurriedly closed the door, preferring to stay with a deceased body than to have been rescued by someone like me.

I felt a hand grasp mine.

"You shouldn't have done that." The little girl said. "Did she touch you, breathe on you? No? Good, you're okay. I. . .Was worried."

Her intense caring for my health was unnatural.

"Why do you care so much?" I asked.

She didn't waste a second before speaking.

"Its because you're like me. Shunned and disregarded by all the rest. So, right now, I need you and you need me which is why I came looking for you. Where do you live?"

She needed me? The words felt odd as they were alien to me and my lonely heart.

"I. . ." I had suddenly began to trust this character. One who had supposedly killed someone. One who cared for me because we needed each other. "West of here. Near the borderline of the district."

"I see. I'll walk with you then."

She still hadn't let go of my hand. The thought of the two girls about to die in the classroom ran across my head. The memory of lonely the little girl sitting in the corner.

"Hey, so. . .Who was it that you killed?" I asked.

"Mnf. On this again?" She appeared annoyed then turned her gaze elsewhere. "Oh. . .Oh."

I turned to where she was looking. The teacher doing her rounds stood in the hall of the second floor. She seemed shocked. She was like the upperclassmen,  looking at me with pity and hatred.

"Why are you here so late?" She asked sternly.

I laughed at her boldness.

"Its none of your business, besides." I said then gave her the same look she was giving me. "Don't forget your manners."

"Tch." She said and walked away. Mumbling something as she walked by us.

We continued down the stairs and out onto the schoolyard.  The luminescent moon shone on the lawn's grass brilliantly. Opposing the color of our sailor black uniforms.

"That's where she lives, huh. Aesthaea."  The little girl looked up at the moon.

Aesthaea was the Japanese goddess of beauty and women. Still, she was nothing more than a story told by samurai and vendors. All statues of her beautiful figure was destroyed years ago in a war. She was replaced by the god of men and death. Ryukjeene.

It was a straight walk from the schools locker room entrance to the gate. On either side was the green lawn that had been trampled by the many feet of the students. A fountain stood on the left side of the lawn in it's center. On the right, was a lone sakura tree to which was just blooming. The large brown school's dreary painting and underworked construction did make it seem to be hiding in grief.

The school gate opened with a creak, letting onto the lonely unlit streets, the presences of the lonely girl and the murderer.

"What is your name?" I asked out of interest. What name could be given to a girl like this? Would it fit her or completely oppose her entire personality.

"Okonayami. I think. I think it means 'hater of men'. Well,  that's what I like to think."

"Hater of men? Why do you. . .?"

"What's yours mean?"

"Its Todoroki." I said accepting her switch of topic. "It means 'a sinless sinner'. Its pretty creepy and somewhat definitive isn't it?"

"I think it's nice."

Hirsugiminen, Japan

2001

Hirsugiminen's Sanctuary

The mother of all mothers, sinner before all others is constantly watching over women's souls. She wants to take them, to change them. To make them unholy and evil so as to use them for ungodly purposes. Her name is Aesthaea, the goddess of women. Her tempting, beautiful face is a siren toward women, but to men, the epicenter of her hatred, her face represented that of the Oni.

"What's the current status of the hybrid, Seikon?" She asked. Her black lips complimented her eyelashes but not her auburn hair. She wore a long ragged tailcoat and a tight leggings beneath. Her heels that had stomped the heads of many men were now lying comfortably at the the table in hell.

"Fully active, those whom you have sent out to kill him have perished long ago."

The woman sighed, frustrated and tired. She sunk down further into her chair at the sound of the expected bad news. The aftershock of constant failure was brutal. There was no light in her dark creations, no hope in the seeds she planted.

"Will you try again?" The voice of the messenger came again.

"I don't have a choice, now do I?" She replied.

"Very well then. I have two suitors who will be of utmost interest to you. They are still in school but their hearts are already tainted by the darkness."

The woman's slender, beautiful face was getting distorted after many god-forsaken hours of frowning. And this good news did not steal it.

"What are their names?"

"Names? Aota Todoroki and Mitsu Okonayami."

"Use them, then." The woman said tiredly.

"Now?"

"Yes, yes." She waved him off.

"Understood."

Meirochi district's border

2001

Todoroki's house

The two sat on the tatami mat staring blankly at each other for a few minutes. It had been that way since they got there. The lamps were dim and the sound of leftover rain on the roof, falling to the ground was aggravating my ears.

Drip, drip.

"Sooo. . ."

"Hm?" The smaller girl bolted upright at the sound of a possibly upcoming conversation.

"Are you gonna change those clothes?" I asked. At first,  staring at the little girl, I was lost for words. So I decided to inquire about her attire.

"Oh, that." She looked down at her skirt. "I don't have any other. This is the only suit of clothing I own."

The unbelievable words were hard to take in.

"You don't expect me to believe that, do you?"

"It is true. My father is dead. I killed him. And I never knew my mother so I live by myself."

She killed him? The feeling of insecurity overwhelmed me again. But then the thought of living by yourself at such an early age overcame that.

"As I said before." She continued. "I won't hurt you. So,  since we're sharing secrets and all. . .I need to understand. The second reason people shun you is. . .Why do like girls?"

The question was hard and the memories hurt but that was a long time ago.

"I don't know." I said simply. I had loved someone, someone who donned the same bodily features I did. And it was for that reason. . ."I just. I think that they're beautiful, that's all." I had told her my secrets, my feelings. What was about this girl that elicited my true self?

I awaited her response filled with disgust. At least,  thats what I thought she'd say.

"I see. Well, I think that you're beautiful."  She said, smiling. The moonlight shone a pale gray on her face. She looked. . .Beautiful. She and her bloodstained outfit. It made me feel content for some odd reason.

I felt my body lean forward and placed a kiss unto her forehead. All was unintentional yet desired. A life of loneliness makes you forget what's normal to do and what's not. Was feeling comfortable around a murderer normal? Was I this desperate for at least a friend? I hadn't noticed until she pulled away.

"Aota-san. . ." She said. I stood for a moment unsure of why I did it and how to escape the situation. She simply smiled and placed a kiss onto my forehead as well. My heart started to roar. "I feel content." She said.

I smiled weakly at the growing pain in my chest. I was feeling a bit infatuated with a younger girl yet I didn't want to have done anything sexual with her. In her presence,  I just felt content.

I was scared, at this girl's attractiveness. Her blue eyes and brown hair. Her bloodstained sailor uniform. Why wasn't I afraid? Why did I feel so. . .?

"I am content." I replied and she smiled as well. I was confused yet happy. Frightened of the little girl yet content to be with her.

"I need you and you need me." She repeated. "Lets spend everyday together after this."

"I. . ." Her words were alien. Why did she feel so content and why did I? What makes two lonely people need each other? I was growing tired and the hungry. Still, I was content.

"Are you hungry?" I asked her.

She smiled.

"What are you gonna make?"

I thought for a moment.

"Anything. Just say it."

"Meat!"

I laughed. I felt comfortable enough to do that. Yet still,  I was afraid to close my eyes. Would she still be there afterward? Still, for now, even if this is just a hazy dream, it made me feel content.

She, was content.

Yeah, she said she was and I had no reason not to believe her. The feeling of contentedness had domimated my body and once,  it had been looming over my head. Now, for this small moment, it lingered in the air around us.

We, were content.

---To the next episode--