Three weeks.
It had been three weeks since Ariyama Saato had watched four people die in front of him.
The public story was that when the group of ten students from Sasura Academy went on an innocent little excursion to a run-down building in the outskirts of the city, there was some massive sinkhole, which caused the building to crumble, killing Takemichi Yuno, Jack Hayakawa, Yasami Oichi and Yaranagi Yasuke.
The funerals proceeded like normal, with crying family members and prayers that the dearly departed would find heaven.
And as for Ariyama…
He stayed in his room.
The whole three weeks, he locked himself in his room, refusing to go out and only accepting his food from it being left outside his bedroom door and going to the bathroom or washing whenever he thought it time.
His mother had called for help from a physiologist after week two, but the man simply explained to her that her son was just having difficulty adjusting to the horrors he'd seen.
If only they knew that the 'horrors he'd seen' were a lot worse than seeing a sinkhole.
He obviously didn't return to school. He couldn't. He got sick everytime he thought about what would happen; what Kazura and Matsuragi and Odomura would say to him, or what anyone else would say to him.
He wasn't sure about Matsune and whether or not she'd gone back. But she had seemed equally shaken from the experience, even if she had some level of knowledge about Shrines and Enchanted Tools and Pilgrims, all things that were still vague to Ariyama.
I didn't matter anyway. He wasn't going to go out, and wasn't going to show his face.
Especially after he'd looked in the mirror.
It had been the morning after the incident.
After he'd stumbled his way home in a state drunk off fear, and had quietly treated his wounds without waking his mother, he'd gone to his futon in his bedroom and fallen asleep the moment his tired body hit the bed.
The next morning, he woke up and instantly raced to the bathroom, nightmares of him covered in blood spurring him on to check if it was happening in reality too.
Luckily, it wasn't the case, but when he had seen himself in the mirror, and noticed it, his blood ran cold.
The hair that usually fell down his forehead, covering his left eye, had a small but noticeable streak of snow white against his jet black hair.
The white.
The white room
The white silhouette.
The white light that poured from the sword.
He had shivered at the thought, but focused back on the streak of white hair.
He knew stress could cause gray hair, but this wasn't that. He knew, instantly, that it was thanks to the power he'd showcased and used to dismantle the beasts who'd killed his friends.
He didn't know how he knew, but he did.
Getting lightheaded, he'd returned to his room and sat there for the rest of the month.
Now, it was coming into December – the winter break that would last until the new year was in just a week – and it was starting to snow vigorously outside. If Ariyama was thankful for anything, he was thankful for the fact his family had installed a good heating system in the house.
After relaxing in a soothing bath – he'd grown to have a liking for baths over the past few days – Ariyama entered his room, locking the door as usual, but only after picking up the plate of dinner left for him by his mother.
His heart swelled with love for her, despite everything that'd happened. He supposed that after witnessing so much carnage, he was glad to just have a home to come back too.
Scrutinizing the plate of rice and an assortment of healthy foods, he sat down crossed-legged on his futon, chewing away at his dinner as he strolled absentmindedly on his phone.
As he expected, his inbox was filled with missed calls, voicemails and unread texts. Kazura? Matsuragi? Odomura? Anyone else at school? He wasn't sure who'd sent them, but he kept them Unopened and planned to keep it that way.
He didn't have the heart to face what they were saying to him, anyway.
Clicking his tongue in frustration, he tossed his phone away and fell back on his futon with an exasperated sigh, crossing his hands behind his hand.
"What a joke…"
He was talking to himself more and more, recently. First sign of madness, wasn't it? He was honestly shocked he hadn't already gone mad. Sure, he rarely felt anything other than sorrow, angst and self-hatred ever since that day, but at least he felt something.
Even if he wasn't happy about it.
It was his fault, after all, for the deaths of those four.
The first week locked in his room was the worst. He tormented himself for every hour of each day, hitting, slapping, scratching.
None of it even came close to the pain he deserved to feel, but he thought it was at least a start.
However, he stopped the self-harm when his mom walked in on him. The tears in her eyes and the shaking of her shoulders as she held him and let him cry into her warm embrace had wretched his heart in pain, but a different kind of pain than he'd been experiencing.
He had momentarily made an unfair thought in his head that she was only showing this motherly love to him now when he was at his lowest, and not any other time
But he'd quickly abandoned that thought in his mind. He was getting the affection he wanted, so he didn't much care where it came from.
After that day, he hadn't hurt himself physically any anymore, but he'd made sure the door was locked at all times.
By the time the second week had come around, Ariyama was getting used to shutting out any outside connection and being holed up in either his room or the bathroom for the rest of his life.
Around that time, however, he began to investigate.
As his mother reckoned he would be in his room for the foreseeable future, she often left the door to her – and Ariyama's father's --bedroom open, as Ariyama had quickly learned.
Once, when she had gone down to the kitchen to make an evening snack for herself, Ariyama had snuck out of his room for the first time in weeks. He snuck to her room, and silently entered.
Rummaging around for just a few moments, he found what he was looking for in the bedside locker; the history that his mother had confiscated: A History of Sumura's Local Legends.
Clutching the book close to his chest, he ran back to his room in the few seconds he had before she returned. He planned on trying to investigate what truly happened that night with the book, then he'd sneakily replace it back in his parent's bedroom.
This did happen, however.
Once he had his back to his closed door, all it took was him opening one page of interest: the Shrine Gate. As he came eye-to-eye with the red bloody sigil engraved in the yellowing paper, bile rose in his throat and he lurched awsy from the book to stop his vomit from ruining it.
Even glancing at anything to do with that night, he'd found, led to a churning stomach and rising bile. As such, he'd also dumped the set of ripped clothes he'd worn that night, including the shoes and jacket.
It was a shame. It was a nice jacket.
After cleaning himself up, he had quickly returned the book to the proper place, returned to his room, curled up on his futon and cried himself to sleep.
From then on, he barely left his room anymore, even to pee in the bathroom.
And that led up the current date: December first.
Ariyama thought the first of December would be the same nothingness and isolation as the fourth or the third or the second.
But then his mom came to his door…
Ariyama expected her to go with the usual routine: dropping off his breakfast and telling him how much she loved him and all that.
But no.
Instead, she waited by the door until he was forced to ask:
"What?"
To which she responded:
"Dear, there's someone at the door for you. It's Matsune-chan. She said she was here to check up on you. As you know, she is the only… other survivor of that terrible incident, so I think I'd be good if you at least let her into your room.
Ariyama was about to turn her down and tell her to piss off, but he stopped himself.
Matsune was here?
Now, of all times? Nearly a month after the incident?
Ariyama couldn't lie to himself and say he wasn't intrigued, even slightly.
When he spoke, he spoke with a rumbling and raspy voice that hadn't been used properly in weeks.
"Fine. She can come in."
"Oh, that's great to hear, dear!"
He heard the slight mile in his mother's voice.
"Just keep the noise down, OK, sweetheart?"
"Oh, shut up."
Harumi chuckled softly, obviously having not done so in a good while. There were the sounds of footsteps dying away as she headed for the stairs, leaving Ariyama alone with his thoughts again.
He tossed and turned the ideas in his mind as to why Matsune would come now of all times. Maybe she finally was going to explain everything…
Suddenly, Ariyama looked up and his heart nearly stopped in surprise as he saw Matsune enter the room and shut the door behind her.
"Hey, Ariyama-kun. I'm finally going to explain everything."
Ariyama's breathing was fast-paced and unbreaking. It had been so long since a person had been with him in his room, much less the most popular girl in his school.
As for Matsune herself, Ariyama couldn't deny that she looked good.
She was wearing black yoga pants and a slightly-oversized t-shirt with some Pop band on it, along with clean white shoes and a cozy leopard-print jacket that looked expensive in some way. Was it that material?
Her hair was long and black and silky as usual, her bangs styled so not one was out of place, but her eyes…
Despite the perfection of every other bit of her, her eyes carried the weight of her experiences. Her ebony black irises held a deep and sorrowful aura, accented by the bags under her eyes. Every other part of her was spotless, which just made her tired eyes stand out just that much more.
Ariyama finally remembered to respond to her words.
"Is that so?"
She wouldn't didn't want to meet his gaze, and yet he saw her tense her body as she forced her eyes to meet his.
"Yes, and Ariyama-kun… about that night…"
Ariyama set his jaw.
"Just don't bother. That's the reason I've been locked up in my damn room for the last three weeks. I haven't gone to school since then, and haven't seen any of my friends either. I even tried reading a history book about that Shrine we unknowingly entered, but ended up throwing up everything I'd eaten that day."
He blinked angrily as tears pricked his eyes.
"I can't even… I can't even look at anything to do with that night. Just… Please, tell me what you need and nothing more."
Matsune looked at his shabby state with an aura of pity behind her tired eyes. "That's just the thing, Ariyama-kun. I need you to know some things, but what I'm going to talk about… Well, it isn't about how you feel, even if I do care about that."
Ariyama glared at her, then sighed and made his way onto his futon, sitting crossed-legged.
"So, let me guess. You're going to explain all about… whatever the hell happened then. But what do you mean by that last part?"
"Well, you see, I'm not exactly coming to you this morning out of my own personal decision."
"So someone's forcing you to be here? I'd that's the case, be my guest and leave–"
Matsune adopted that slightly-pouty, slightly-annoyed face of hers that Ariyama vaguely remembered from back when he attended school.
"Not at all, Ariyama-kun! Someone is asking me to be here, yes, but not forcing me. Either way, I myself felt like it was important that I do so."
Ariyama pursed his lips as he gauged her reaction, debating mentally how to respond.
Finally, he slumped his shoulders and sighed.
"Huh… Fine, OK. You can sit down if you'd like."
Matsune's face returned to an attempt of a lighthearted smile.
"Why, thank you."
Carefully, she knelt beside him on his white futon, folding her legs under her. Nervously, she stroked her hair that fell over her shoulder, before flicking it back. It gave Ariyama a moment of clarity, seeing how she was acting. She felt so vulnerable, and in a weird way, it calmed him down slightly.
After surviving Hell on earth, they had to have some obscure connection, right?
"So, just to start off: Why did you know, even in a miniscule amount, some stuff about what happened? Even just then, you called it a Shrine. How'd you know that?"
Ariyama shrugged nonchalantly.
"It was from that history book I mentioned. I only read it after school on the same day. For some reason, though, my mom got all shaken up when she found me reading it."
"Really? And what was the book called?"
"'Sumura's Local Legends', or something like that."
Matsune visibly paled slightly.
"Oh… How did you have that?"
"Found it all dusty on that shelf over there. I have a bunch of books that I haven't touched in forever, or ever at all."
Matsune swallowed and looked past Ariyama at the shelf exposed through the open wardrobe, her eyes narrowing and scanning the contents hastily. Seemingly coming up empty, she relaxed and turned her attention back to him.
"I see. Well, to put it simply, Ariyama-kun, that book you had is a very old and very important book in our culture. As you can see, it contained many of our truths."
"Our culture? Our truths? God, Matsune, I thought you were going to explain things, not complicate them."
He hadn't intended to have so much venom in his words, but he couldn't help it. He still needed answers as to what had happened, and especially what Matsune herself knew.
She nodded straight away, her tired eyes focusing on him intently.
"Right, sorry, I'm all over the place. So, I'll start with the basics, then?"
"Sure."
"Alright. So, to explain properly what that thing we entered that night… It's called a Shrine, as you know, but here is what it really is: it's a stronghold."
"A stronghold? As in something used to guard something else?"
"Indeed. And you can guess what it was it was protecting, right?"
Ariyama didn't even need to think back to that night – which he was especially thankful for – because he already knew.
"The sword…"
Matsune nodded solemnly.
"That sword is what's referred to as an 'Enchanted Tool', as I'm pretty sure you know already. And the knight and all those creatures that attacked us–"
"They were guarding it. Yeah, you told me this already."
Dammit, there was that unnecessary venom in his words again. He wasn't exactly happy with Matsune Sasya, but he didn't want her to hate him.
"Alright. Sorry. I'm also a bit fuzzy on the details of the… incident. Anyways, when we were trapped in the pedestal room, then attacked by those guards, and you touched the sword for the first time, you exploded – if that's the right word to use, I don't know – in light. Care to explain what you witnessed during that?"
Ariyama crossed his arm, licking his dry lips. He didn't want to think back, but he knew he had to, and he couldn't keep it sealed in the back of his memory forever.
"Well, when that happened, I felt this crazy heat. Next thing I know, I'm floating in some white void, with this pleasant warm feeling. Then I wake up in a sort of interrogation room, with two chairs and a table, everything white. I sat at one chair, and at the one opposite, there was a blinding silhouette of me… I think. It used words like 'Enchanted Tool' and 'Pilgrim', then said its name was Idolseus. We… made a deal to save you and when we shook hands, I was brought back to the room, with his white aura and a powerful sword."
As he explained, Matsune tapped her chin thoughtfully, nodding along the way as if saying, 'yes, that's what I expected'.
As Ariyama finished his explanation, Matsune nodded one last time.
"Right. Well, lucky for you, I can explain that for you, since–
"– you went through the same thing?"
Matsune stared at him in disbelief.
"That happened when I touched that sorry, which is an 'Enchanted Tool', yeah? And your silver bracelet is one too, right? Sorry for interrupting you again, by the way."
Surprisingly, Matsune smiled weakly.
"Well, well, well. We have a genius on our hands, here. Good catch, Ariyama-kun."
That spark – just an ember – of the old Matsune elicited a small bark of laughter from Ariyama, despite himself. It was brief, but damn it felt good.
"I mean, I'm not an idiot. I saw how you used that purple chain thing to fight the knight. And I saw its origin was from your bracelet. It only made sense. As a matter of fact, do you have it on you?"
Matsune pulled up the sleeve of her leopard-print jacket, showing the spotless silver bracelet, ornately designed with twisting vines and small blooming flowers, fastened around her right wrist.
"I've always worn it, and I won't stop."
"So, am I right? About it being an Enchanted Tool?"
"Spot on. As you can see, 'Enchanted Tools' can vary from a whole sword to a pretty little bracelet."
"Clearly. Although technically, it's more like a broken sword. Half the blade is snapped off, after all."
"Hmph. Speaking of which, do you still have it on you?"
Ariyama averted his eyes instantly, his heart beating faster.
"Um, not on me. But over there…"
He nodded to the prayer shrine that was on the opposite wall to his futon. Behind it, in a little gap in the floorboards he'd discovered when he was younger, the rusted and damaged Enchanted Tool was stored haphazardly. If anyone even looked at the shrine at the right angle, it'd be visible. Not the best place for such a clearly important item.
But Ariyama had been scrambling in a hurry to hide it after the incident.
He had a flash of memory as he thought back, the drowning from lack of air, his heartbeat thundering in his ears, his hands spasming and unable to even lift the sword, even if it only weighed maybe three or four kilos.
His stomach churned and he winced in annoyance. He swore he wouldn't think back too intently ever, but here he was doing just that.
It's all Matsune's fault.
No, not her fault.
If he had anyone to blame, it was him. He had opened the Shrine Gate after all. But if there was a day when he was feeling slightly less terrible, he would blame Jack Hayakawa. What were the actual chances he would choose a Shrine as a location for a random meetup? For all Ariyama knew, Jack was informed about Enchanted Tools and Shrines too, but was just not as equipped as Matsune.
A thought sparked in Ariyama's mind.
Maybe Jack wanted that sword for himself, maybe because he didn't have an Enchanted Tool yet. And he took a whole group at such a random time as backup?
Screw that. Even Jack, if he actually did know about the guards, would recognise that a group – even if it was a big one – of teenagers wouldn't be able to do jack shit.
But those eyes.
That quivering lip.
He was either scarily inept and unknowing about the risks he was taking, or he truly was innocent.
Realizing he was spacing out again, Ariyama snapped back to attention. Matsune was looking at him with badly-masked pity.
Dammit. Was this what he really wanted? Yeah, now people wouldn't be going after his money, since they were all fucking dead.
What an idiot had he been?
He wanted to bash his own head in that moment, maybe as some recompense for the families he'd ruined, but that was nothing new.
"Ariyama-kun? Am I OK to continue?"
Matsune's soft and caring voice cut through his self-deprecating thoughts like a knife through butter. Locking gazes with her again, Ariyama nodded hesitantly.
Mastune reached out and gently took hold of a lock of his hair. The patch that was bleached white.
"I've heard of some particularly-strong powers that can cause physical changes to people, even if miniscule. This must be from when you first tapped into that light."
Ariyama nodded in affirmation, but really he wanted to focus on another topic.
"Tell me. Tell me about that person, or people, who told you to come here."
Matsune looked a little uncomfortable answering that question, but she must have recognised that she was supposed to answer his queries, and so she straightened up.
"The people who told me that – along with myself – are from what's referred to as the Pilgrims' Society."
Pilgrims' Society? There was that word again, the one Idolseus had mentioned. But hadn't he referred to himself as a Pilgrim, as opposed to it being the name of some secret association?
Matsune continued on, answering his unspoken questions.
"That silhouette that you saw in that all-white room is known as a Pilgrim. I know I don't have all day here, so I won't get into the specifics, but just know that there are Pilgrims, who are spirits tied to the Tools, and there is the Pilgrims' Society, which is more named after them than anything else."
"And this 'Pilgrims' Society'?"
"To put it simply, just like you and I, there are many, many people who also know of this world's untold truths. Three hundred years ago, they combined into the global organization known as the Pilgrims' Society. It governs the laws and regulations of all Tributes and magic-users worldwide, with different branches for each country, like the Japanese branch here, or the Germany branch or the English branch."
Ariyama, his brain hollowed out from a lack of usage for the last three weeks, was having trouble sorting through this cluster of info, but he tried to keep up.
"Alright, I got you. Just one last main question: you said there's tons of people outside of us two who know all this too, so does that mean there's people who also have Enchanted Tools?"
Matsune nodded.
"The statistics are outdated, but from what I can remember, we have forty-two registered Tributes – that's what we call people with contracts with Pilgrims – as part of the Society, and then eighty-eight in the whole country, including unregistered Tributes."
So that's eighty-eight people who've gone to a Shrine and retrieved an Enchanted Tool?"
"Yes. But as I said, that data's probably outdated. It's been a few years, so there may have been some who died, or new ones who popped up. Clearly, you're one of the latter, and as I was an official member of the Society who happened to be with you when it happened, it fell on my shoulders to explain everything to you and indoctrinate you."
All of a sudden, Ariyama felt something snap in him. Was it what she said, or how she said it? I didn't know. All he knew was that he was suddenly angry and that's all he focused on.
His fists clenched the sheets of his futon as his jaw flexed with anger.
"Indoctrinate, huh? Hey, let me run this by you: what if I never wanted to be a part of this?"
His voice rose.
"And what if – and I know this may sound inconceivable – I just wanted to deal with the shit that's happened on my own, without knowing all this extra information. In fact, if this is all some huge secret magical society, why tell me everything instead of keeping me in the darkness, or wiping my memory, or killing me or something…"
Matsune reached out and he flinched as she put a hand on his arm. It must have been hard to keep her emotions in control when she was dealing with him, who himself knew was definitely not in control. But he needed to speak his mind either way.
"Ariyama-kun… The reason I was told to tell you is… since not only were you exposed to such supernatural horrors, but you also contracted with a Pilgrim, it's in our laws that you need to be a part of our world now."
Even more rage boiled Ariyama's veins. He shrugged her hand off him.
"Oh, is that the case? Wow, great to hear. Hey, here's a thought for you, Matsune. You know I didn't want all this, right?"
"Of course you didn't, Ariyama-kun, but I'm afraid–"
"And so why am I forced to go through more? What, do I have to experience things like that night over and over again for the rest of my life? Screw that. Honestly, I'd rather kill myself."
"Ariyama-kun, please don't say that to yourself–"
"Oh, shut up, will you? JUST SHUT UP! My friends are dead, and they were your friends too! So why am I the only one who cares, huh? Has this life you've been keeping secret from us made you jaded? Do you feel nothing about them being dead, is that it?"
Ariyama breathed heavily, his fists clenched so tightly they hurt, his jaw aching from his perpetually-gritted teeth.
His vision was blurred from his outburst, the blood slow to reach his head. But as his vision cleared, he saw one thing in particular.
Matsume, still sitting next to him.
And she was crying.
Her breath came out in sobs as her slight shoulders shook and her lip shook. Thick tears ran down her face, her eyes red and alight with anger and grief and a thousand other emotions.
Ariyama instantly felt bad. This was the first time he had ever seen her properly cry. And he tugged at his heart in a way he didn't like. Even though he had focused on not being like everyone else and becoming one of the hundred boys who had asked out Matsune Sasya, did she really still have this effect on him?
He didn't have a problem admitting she was a beauty to look at, be it when in sports gear and her hair in a ponytail on the track, or poised in full and proper uniform while in class. But did she have some hold over his emotions like she seemingly did with every other guy in the school?
It was almost scary, but now was the time to be chastising her. Especially not when he had already drawn her to tears.
Matsune glared at him with those mixed emotions in her eyes.
"I… Dammit, I can barely stand it too, OK? Yeah, they were my friends, and that's why I'm devastated over them not being here anymore. I understand that you don't want to be a part of this life, Ariyama, and I wish I could walk away too, but I can't. We can't. Especially since we both have contracts
with Pilgrims, we are stuck where we are. So now you can either do the smart move and get registered with the Society, or basically become a fugitive and go unregistered. I would say it's up to you, but I promise you, I won't let you make the wrong decision. You're part of all this now, whether you like it or not, so I'm going to make sure you join the Society with me… And when we get to that stage, we can talk about… e-everything that's… happened… oh God."
She broke down, sobs coming from her throat as she covered her face with her hands, not doing a good job at hiding the tears that ran down her red face.
His features softening and a cold breeze running through his body to cool his anger, Ariyama's face fell with regret. He hadn't been fair to her, it was as simple as that.
Gently, he shifted closer to her and, tears brimming in his own eyes, wrapped his arms around her shaking form in something that felt like it was a hug.
Nothing was going to be the same again, he knew.
But maybe, just maybe, he could adapt and actually do something about it.