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4:30
Almost involuntarily, he opens his eyes. The first thing he has to do is, obviously, reaching for his glasses. Except he doesn't feel like doing that yet. Letting the ashen hair hide his face, he sits alone with his thoughts.
“You sure wake up early, my lord.”
That was enough to break the spell. Mikoshi reaches for the glasses on his right before mumbling his usual scorn.
“It's not like you let me sleep.”
“Um…” his deputy tilts his head slightly. “Did I? I apologise, but that seems to be a misunderstanding–”
“Never mind.” Mikoshi shrugs, finally changing into his formal attire.
At this point, Tatarasuna is still adorning itself the pure black coat of the night. Mikoshi likes it better this way. Although, the next sunrise would eventually come, and people would soon rejoice as they realised that the devious monster couldn’t take refuge in the night forever.
5:30
Having finished his breakfast (if that bowl of miso could be called such), the Inspector settled in his office, where he could oversee the entire Tatarasuna itself. He knows some people are uneasy by this. He himself does not find it pleasant to be on surveillance 24/7 either, but he supposed that is how things work now.
The other workers have also started. Sometimes, he finds the sound of their working a bit...relaxing. Sometimes, he finds the sound of the steel being hammered against the anvil is absolutely driving him to insanity.
At those moments, Katsuragi's cold hands pull him back, perhaps even reminding him to take a little sip of the overly sweet tea he prepared for his superior.
8:00
By this time, Mikoshi had finished most of the paperwork for the morning. His workload tripled compared to before, but that is nothing he can't handle. It helps that no one is distracting him now–
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Shogi.” Katsuragi answered casually as he prepared the board. “You seem a little bit bored.”
Mikoshi opens then closes his mouth a few times, but only an exasperation comes out. In the end, he still couldn’t raise his voice at his most loyal.
“I have work to do, you know.”
“What work?” Katsuragi laughs, perhaps a tad too relaxed toward his superior. “You've already done the boring paperwork, now there is only the even more boring task of…staring at people. You don't want to do it either, do you?”
“Katsuragi,” Mikoshi shuts his eyes; his annoyance grows by minute. “I am not salaried with tax-payers money to play Shogi with you.”
“You are so uptight. That is what makes you so unpopular.”
Katsuragi must have flipped a switch inside Mikoshi, because immediately and without warning, the older man split the Shogi board into halves. His dull blade still can reflect the pieces scattered on the wooden floor, some still undamaged, but some have been chipped away a slight bit by the slash.
At the door, a young man stands still in shock. That was some terrible timing on his part. Mikoshi couldn’t quite recall the name of that worker…Kinjiro…or something. Regardless, he feels like he is obligated explain.
Except…he doesn't.
Keeping his creepily composed tone, he asked.
“What is the problem this time?”
11:00
All Kinjiro asked was whether the Inspector wanted to join the other workers for lunch. Mikoshi politely (in his own opinion) declined and shut the door in the young man's face, who was still in too much of a shock to react.
“You still have to eat.”
Mikoshi does not answer. Almost as if he is huffing, he flips to the next page of the book he pretended to be reading.
“My lord…” Katsuragi let out a long sigh. He does not sound very dissimilar from trying to persuade a particularly stubborn child. “Please, you barely had anything for breakfast.”
If Mikoshi decides to ignore Katsuragi, then Katsuragi would ignore Nagamasa's frosty attitude too.
Clack. Clack. A bowl of white rice with fried unagi and a bowl of dried seaweed. This forces Mikoshi to finally look at his retainer. The pair of golden eyes pierce through his thin oval glasses, evidently very annoyed.
“Did I ask?”
“Don't be so stubborn, my lord.” The younger man grimaces. “Look, I have already prepared your favourites…the food at the cafeteria had some beans and tofu in there, so I prepared new dishes for you.”
There is something about Katsuragi’s remark that makes Mikoshi's blood boil. He hates it. He hates the condescending way that Katsuragi pretends to understand him, to know him so much he could make even his superior do what he wanted to. Such arrogance, coming from a servant especially, is unacceptable.
A bitter clank.
Katsuragi seems disheartened, but not surprised. He foresaw this. This is why he didn't prepare any water-based food. It would have been terrible if the hot water got on his lord’s scar. Staring at the mess of his hard work mixed in with pieces of white porcelain on the ground, Katsuragi wonders how he would even begin to clean this up.
Slumping on his work desk, Mikoshi hears that irritating susurrus from the workers outside his window. He should be used to this, he thinks, but at this moment he feels like he wants to kill either all of them or himself, perhaps both.
14:00
“Kama has neither the proficiency nor the authority to make this manuscript.”
“My lord, but he did make it. Please at least look at his design a little bit closer. I personally think it's promising. Perhaps we can allow a little bit of leeway–”
“Silence, would you?” As always, Mikoshi doesn't even allow his servant to finish the sentence. “What do you know? If there is but a single mistake, it's not like you would be the one to face the consequences.”
The Tatarasuna’s worker stands still on the opposite side of the Inspector's work desk, a bit crept out and…angry. He knows he isn't the only person to feel this way toward his disagreeable superior. How could he not be, when Mikoshi talks like he wasn't there?
“Well,” Kama raised his voice, which is rare for someone who is usually so aloof like him. He throws the neatly folded envelope across the desk in barely concealed frustration. “If you can't approve of the manuscript, at least you can still approve of this?”
“What?”
“My resignation letter.”
17:00
It's about time that today's shift ends and Mikoshi's patrol starts. It isn't in his job description, but he volunteered to do it regardless. He just wants to get away from here, just for a little bit.
On his way out, the phantom of Tatarasuna heard…a few things. He has grown quite used to this. People are the same, in Inazuma City or here. They greatly underestimated how sharp his hearing still is, even when his body has been worn down by his age already.
Something about him destroying his own Shogi set for no reason at all. Something about him made his own lunch and then threw everything away before even touching it. Something about him banishing that one worker from Tatarasuna. Something about his mother again…
“Are you sure your hearing is still good?”
Tatarasuna's notorious Inspector turns around to see his trusty retainer's frown.
“That is definitely not what they were talking about.” Katsuragi's icy cold hand holds on tight to that of Mikoshi, as if he is afraid that his lord would run away. “The things you heard and the things you believe you are supposed to hear and the things you want to hear…There is little to no overlap between them.”
Mikoshi wavers. For a moment, just for a brief moment, he considers caving in, to collapse in his most beloved's cold but gentle embrace. But, in the end, he scoffs, as usual.
“Even if they don’t say that, they must be thinking that. I'm no stranger to being called a deranged anyways.”
“That’s…”
He shrugs that cold hand away before continuing to stroll along the length of the beach that was tenderly caressed by the hands of the gods. The crimson trail of dendrobium seems to follow his footsteps. The howling wind of September accompanies him as she wails in an agony that he once attempted to comprehend. All this feels just like home, really.
Scattered, scattered, scattered away.
Blown, blown, blown away.
Burnt, burnt, smouldering away.
Where is he, the person whom I love?
…
Turn around, no, do not turn around.
Look away, no, do not look away.
Leave this place, no, please don't leave me again.
Don't run. Don't hide. Do not be afraid.
…
His plucked eyes still watched over you.
His cloven arms still wrapped around your neck.
And his heart, o his tattered heart.
He gave it all to you…to you…to you...
The man walks barefoot on the sand and doesn't even remember where he left his shoes, on his lips is an eerie lullaby he no longer remembers the name of – still in that hoarse voice. Though his wretched body wanders, his mind lingers still at the daybreak of that day. The day when the dark clouds finally dissipated, sadistically revealed to him all that he had lost. The day he finally realised his power is all but a lousy pretence. The day he decided to abandon his own soul, amused to see how easy it was to do such a thing–
“Let's return home. We have gone far enough for long enough.”
Surprisingly, Mikoshi nods, allowing himself for a split second to be melted in the cold embrace. Only then did he notice the monsters’ dismembered corpses surrounding him. Katsuragi is as reliable and efficient as always. He commented to himself.
Vacantly staring at the half-burnt remains and filling their repugnant scent in his lungs, he is secretly glad that they aren’t humans. Had they been, he would have to report all this to Kannazuka’s authorities, and he hates to deal with them almost as much as they hate to deal with him.
Fortunately for them, they probably won't have to deal with him too much longer.
And, as natural as breathing, he obscenely fantasises about his own remains mixed in with the monsters’ too. It's not like anyone else could notice. And perhaps, the only sign that something was amiss would be the sole pyro vision burying itself in the damp sands.
20:00
He could never be clean again no matter how many times he washes himself. He tried until his body bled already. So why even bother? He thought he would stare at his own stained hands for the rest of the day, but before he knew it, he finally eats something.
He doesn't feel like he has either control or his own mind or body then…but at least this would keep him breathing for a little while longer.
21:00
Lying prostrate on the ground with his eyes open wide, Mikoshi most definitely could not see anything right now. Nor could he smell the intense fragrance of the incense that he accidentally burnt too much of. Nor could he feel the weight of his own bones against the hard floor. Nor could he taste the bitterness on his tongue.
“At least use your futon.”
That, Mikoshi can most definitely hear, but he ignores his retainer again.
“Please, you are catching a cold like this.” Katsuragi has been silently watching his master for quite a while now. And even someone as understanding as him would have to run out of patience eventually. “You are not a child, you know. Don't act like one.”
Katsuragi stares disapprovingly at his own lord for a few more seconds before he decides that if Mikoshi wants to act childish, he would treat him like a child.
And the retainer drags his master aside and prepares their sleeping place before dragging him back, all while Mikoshi was completely motionless. Well, it is more like Mikoshi did not object to be moved that way.
22:00
23:00
24:00
“So, how long do you intend to haunt me, Katsuragi?”
“Don't phrase it like that, my lord, my dearest Nagamasa.” Katsuragi sighs. He gently puts Nagamasa’s glasses on the side and softly caresses his most beloved's burn scar…just like how he used to back then. “You were the one to ask me to stay with you, no? And even if you didn’t say that out loud, you want me to be here, no?”
“What kinds of bollocks are you spewing this time?”
“Nagamasa, my lord, my love, please, you are an exorcist. It would be stupidly easy for you to expel me if you so wish.”
“Interesting.” Nagamasa grins, asking half-genuinely. “Is there anything else you know about me that I don’t?”
“You also love the people here so very much. And you love me, too.”
This, Nagamasa neither concurs nor debunks. He curls his stiff body a little bit more, consciously or subconsciously wrapping the lower half of Katsuragi.
“What was all that for, then?” Nagamasa traces the split in-between Katsuragi’s chest and stomach with his fingers, trying not to shudder as he did. “We still ended up like this.”
“You love other people, and other people love you in turn. That is why you are still here, alive.” Katsuragi takes the hand that was caressing his eternally open wound to his lips, giving it a gentle kiss. “Please, always remember that you are loved, if by no one else, then by me.”
“You were a damn fool.”
“That is the highest praise you could possibly give me, my lord.”
Nagamasa can't see Katsuragi, but he can still imagine so clearly the smug expression on the ghastly face that was still far too young.
“This is nothing to be so delighted over.”
Realising he might have sounded too relaxed for his master's comfort, Katsuragi fixed his tone.
“Apologies, my lord. I just think it is a good thing that this tragedy ended.” Katsuragi averts his eyes, accidentally meeting the rundown furnace, the source of this disaster. “So many lives have been claimed already.”
“Those lives shouldn't have been lost in the first place.”
“I know, I know.” The deputy murmurs as he very boldly kisses the messy hair of his most beloved. “But there is no changing the past, isn't it? We did what we had to do. If you have your righteousness, I have mine too. My righteousness is my kindness…and you. My affection for you is also my righteousness. Just like how your devotion for your mother is also yours.”
Nagamasa remembers exactly how he felt back then, as if it only happened yesterday. So weak, so helpless. At that moment, every pretence of power was scraped away. It is indeed as he suspected, the power the Shogunate granted him is but a mere illusion, and it was the moment that the spell wears off. If they don’t kill him, they would do the thing closest to it, arguably something worse: forcing his hand to be stained with the blood of the person whose soul is bound to his. And…when half of his soul is already gone, what is the need for the other half, exactly? Let it burn, until all that is remained it its ashes. Let it melt, until it morphed into a disfigured clump.
“...It's time.” Nagamasa bites his dried lips until it bled. “Have you decided?”
“You know that I have decided from the very beginning. From the moment I traded my life for yours. No– from the moment you saved this lowly life of mine.” Katsuragi runs his cold hand behind Nagamasa’s hair. “Seeing you like this only strengthens my conviction. If I get reborn, you would be very lonely, wouldn’t you? I mean, I would get lonely too. After all, you wouldn’t visit me, no matter how much you want to see me. I will stay by your side to the very end just as I have sworn. To look after you. To console your body.”
Flashing in front of Nagamasa is the severed figure of that person who loves him the most, wrapped in a supposedly white garb that had been stained red. He thought he cut it neatly so that Katsuragi wouldn’t have to feel a thing – but looking at it closely now, even that strike was clumsy (much like anything else he did). He didn’t even completely separate Katsuragi’s into halves, did he?
“No, stop looking at that.” As if knowing exactly what his love is thinking, Katsuragi says as he covers Nagamasa’s eyes with his cold hand. “I swear on my lif– I mean, I swear that it didn’t hurt at all.”
Katsuragi finds it to be a terrible shame that not even the hot tears of his beloved could warm his hand anymore.
“At this moment, if I were to say that I love you, would you finally say it back?”
“Shut it. It’s too late already.” The other man sobs. “Let me rest.”
4:30