Chapter Text
It's no secret there is something wrong with Kamishiro Rui.
He may appear friendly and charming, but the very second his wicked ideas were concocted, it was natural instinct to fear and hate him lest they be scorched by his malicious intent. None of which he had, but it wasn't his place to speak for others' experiences.
There are times he wished he could be outwardly scorned by those around him. Some days, he imagined being beaten bloody, but those were outlandish fantasies he needed to stop resorting to. All they did was dramatize his current situation to make himself pitiable. Hah, dramatize. Yet as he lays on his sofa-turned-bed and stares at the ventilator framed over the door, he wonders if his life would have been so different if he'd actually gone through such things.
A devilish schemer like him couldn't hope to comprehend why he couldn't be like humans, so the least he could do to compensate was to withdraw from any possible connection. He cut off his ties with Nene, no matter how badly it ached to do so, refused to join the junior high's theater club even when personally invited by their own troupe leader, and spent as much time as possible learning about the robots he created by hand that had no agency of their own. The only one he was somewhat still in regular contact with was Mizuki, his kouhai1 by a single year. There was no sign of their friendship developing further, which made sense. It's slightly inconsiderate to describe it this way but her loneliness was undeserved and formed from her peers' exclusion of her. She didn't end up this way because she wanted to, he could see that much.
Him, however? He fell this far because he wanted to.
He slung an arm over his eyes and took a deep breath. Really, was this the best way he could spend his time? Wallowing in 'shame?' 'Grief?' Whatever it was, he shook his head and shoved himself off of the sofa. He did just start learning more advanced programming a month ago, so maybe he could come up with a new show to put those skills to use?
He was thinking something along the lines of a city dweller, which was a little more urban legend-esque than his usual works. The ideas were still in the works as he was having trouble figuring out how he wanted to use such a concept. Did he want to create a horror-themed show, or did he want to keep it family friendly? What was the end goal of writing that kind of story in the first place?
He powered on his monitor and waited for it to properly boot up. His second monitor, hanging on the wall right above his main monitor, was disconnected. He barely used it, unless if he really needed it for any of his CAD2 projects. His computer powered on successfully, and he opened up a video sharing website where he usually sourced all of his tutorials from. He typed a few words, and- woops, he pressed 'enter' before he caught his spelling error.
He was about to fix it, but a specific video caught his eye. It's thumbnail was… a black screen, though the website recognized it as a song. The artist was 'K,' and the song was named 'a heavy burden.' It didn't have a lot of views, but his curiosity was sparked nonetheless. A cryptic song that had little to nothing to do with his search query just happened to pop into his recommendations?
Rui clicked open the song.
It didn't sound like anything he had listened to before.
All throughout his life, he's known a large variety of music from the pop trends thrumming through the radio, to the stage musicals he'd borne witness to ever since he was a child. He wasn't someone 'chronically online' like Mizuki (who wore it as a proud badge), so perhaps this style of music was more common in the online space than it was in real life. It wouldn't explain the low amount of views, but regardless, Rui found himself wishing for more.
He played the song again and closed his eyes. It was orchestra-like, yes, but he could pick out a few unfamiliar sounds that were most likely from digital software. Identifying those instruments was out of his forte. He played the song a third time. It was a short song, and yet he found himself repeating it over, and over, and over. He should be working on practicing some of the new concepts he's been learning, but instead, he was trying to pick apart every piece of the song. The cello's guidance, the steady support of the drums, every bell's chime, the crash of the cymbals in the final chorus, the woodwinds' somber melodies, and the crystal-like rings made itself a home inside his mind. There was a weight in his shoulders that lifted before he realized he'd been carrying it in the first place.
He couldn't discern what kind of feeling sat heavy in his heart, but there was a rush of ideas flooding his mind. He visualized a bleak winter on the stage with all of the lights cold and bright, focusing on a haggard traveler. Their face would be indiscernible, all of their hair stuffed inside of their hood and they would carry a backpack. No, a soldier of the winter would fit the idea best, since the constant drumrolls was reminiscent of a march. Perhaps the soldier was returning from war as the only survivor left?
Haha, he was getting carried away again! It was a marvel that a random song could rile him up this much, and yet he listened to it again to get a clearer picture of what an entire show inspired by this song would look like. Maybe, in an ideal world, he'd have everything he'd need to create a leveled set representative of snow mountains that the actor could climb! And, at the mountain's peak, where only a singular spotlight highlighted the weary soldier's final breaths, the song would slow to its final conclusion, and the soldier would collapse off the mountain, succumbing to the winter's merciless blizzard.
'a heavy burden' was a wonderous masterpiece. To think that he could feel this much over such a simple song! This couldn't have been K's only work. He clicked on their profile and found a plethora more songs posted. It seems like the account began about two months ago, yet there were a little over 20 songs. The song he found was posted just this morning. He looked at the description of the channel, but to his surprise, there was nothing.
He clicked back onto the song and checked its description.
Please let me know your thoughts.
Rui was someone that understood connection between himself and the world was a frayed thread, a possibility with insurmountable odds. No matter how much he wanted to scream and cry at the way things were, it wouldn't change a thing. Despite this, he wasn't against the idea of using a persona to hide his true identity for engaging with online spaces. It's why one of his blueprints was his profile picture and why he left his initials as his display name. The idea of being able to leave a comment sharing his thoughts on the song, expressing how it resonated with him…
Before he knew it, he was editing his account to incorporate a more covert name. Instead of K.R., he'd be… CircuitBoard? It sounded fine but a little too on the nose for his taste. Shiro?3 While it's an inversion of his last name's meaning, he doesn't want any part of his real name or face online.
He glanced at a few of the electronics sprawled about his desk, trying to come up with name ideas. There was the CPU, then a few wires, a few disconnected capacitors, diodes and transistors… Then his eyes landed on a connector. Those were extremely versatile, to a degree that left him scratching his head when he started out using them. He was specifically looking at a photovoltaic connector.
Photovoltaic… He visualized the word and mentally crossed out photo from it. Voltaic. That sounded good enough. He changed his username to voltaic (he added an underscore to bypass the username availability, to his utter dismay) and clicked open the comment box.
voltaic_: K, this is an extraordinary song. Thank you for sharing this.
He wasn't up for talking about the ideas he had in his head related to the song. They'd be called outlandish right off the bat, anyway. He sent the comment and opened a new tab to loop the song to better envision this wonderful new idea. Before he knew it, he'd been lured into a tranquility that soon knocked him out.
He rubbed his eyes and yawned. Thankfully, he wasn't soldering anything so he wasn't blasting his eyes out like the last time he nearly fell asleep holding his soldering iron. There weren't any physical aches or strains he woke up with, but he still stretched his arms out to the sky so he could pick up whatever energy he had left in him for the day.
It's Monday, isn't it? Rui looked at his monitor (he left it on, at least he wasn't running any big programs) and looked at the date. February 10th. He fished out his mouse from the floor (did it fall because he moved in his sleep?) and clicked on the date. It was indeed Monday. 7:43 AM, too. If he wanted to get to school on time, he needed to pick up the pace.
The joke is, there's little reason for him to even go to school. He already completed his entrance exams to an academy in Shinjuku4 he'd eyed in the past year. It was a technical school, and it had good connections to a few reputable industries his engineering skills would be good at. Was it what he truly wanted to do? Far from it, but at the rate he was going, he needed a backup plan.
Regardless, Rui's poor attendance wasn't an overwhelming issue because of his excelling grades. He still did his assignments and passed all of his tests with flying colors. If he was being honest, his efforts were just the bare minimum. He could teach himself whatever he wanted, so sitting through hour-long lectures was extremely unappealing. It wasn't any better with having to sit in a classroom with other students that he couldn't pick apart and understand like he could with his characters.
He managed to throw on a spare uniform, even if it felt like painting over cobwebs when he hasn't properly showered in days, and actually brushed his hair out for once! To the best of his ability, he must add. There were still knots in his hair, especially the one on the side of his head, but he didn't feel like tearing out any more hair strands on his already thinning hair.
He fastened his wrinkled tie and dragged himself into the kitchen. There was a pile of unwashed dishes left behind in the sink that was on the verge of beating the faucet's height, and a lot of cups were left behind on the counter. Some of the cups were filled at varying volumes with ramune5 or plain water. He stepped onto the kitchen mat and—yep, that needed a good dusting. He shook the crumbs of dry foods he doesn't remember eating off the soles of his socks and decided to avoid the hazardous mat.
As much as Rui wasn't fond of cleaning, he wondered how bad it could get before he was relentlessly scrubbing out every piece of dust out of… everywhere. His parents have been out of town for the past month, and this is what he does? Surely his selfishness should have known bounds.
He opened up an overhead cabinet and pulled out a box of marshmallow cereal. Maybe starting the day off with a bowl of sugar would help him feel better? That hope was quickly remedied when he opened up another cabinet to pluck out a bowl, only to find there weren't any. He was going to have to clean at least one bowl to eat.
…Or, he could just eat the marshmallows straight out of the bag. He'd rather clean all of the dishes when he has motivation to do so.
It didn't take long for him to feel satisfied, so he crushed the empty air out of the bag and stuffed it back into the box. He slid the cereal box back into the cabinet and lazily treaded into the living room to check up on the telephone for any messages. Sure enough, there was one left an hour ago. He played it back.
"Hi, sweetie! How have you been? You don't call as often as you used to, but I'm sure you're doing fine. You've always been hyper-independent, but I can't help it. I worry! Make sure you're going to school, okay? I know you don't like it, but your education is important. You make the most out of it! And anything your classmates say, you let it slide off of you like a slimy snail and wash it off.
…Don't be afraid to stop by the Kusanagis' house if you need anything, alright? They're our friends. Mrs. Kusanagi should be checking up on you, making sure you're alright. She's told me your hair looks like a mess.
I miss you, sweetie. Our business trips have been long these days, haven't they? I hope it hasn't been too lonely. Your father's been at meetings and design work nonstop. I have the morning to myself; Sapporo is really cold. I should be in hi-bear-nation, hahaha! Oh, I know they don't actually hibernate6. I'm trying to be funny like your dad, here.
I don't know what else to say. Oh! Stay safe, and keep the house clean. I know you don't like housework, but at least don't let any bugs fester. Make sure you eat well; buy anything you want if you don't feel like making yourself anything. You know where the yen your dad and I left you is. Don't overindulge in sweets, though! Your health is important!
I love you. Call me if you need anything, okay?"
End line.
It was from his mom. The silence afterwards punctured his throat. He would call back but he wasn't going to interrupt her work.
He didn't bother to pick up his backpack since all he needed was a pencil for any paperwork he couldn't avoid, and he slipped his loafer shoes on in the genkan.7 His house keys were clipped onto his belt, and there was no point in taking his cellphone since it wasn't charged. He did pack his trusty neon green notebook instead.
Without further ado, he headed off to school.
Thankfully, his late attendance only warranted him a warning from the receptionist and a paper pass. Rui got to avoid all of the crowds. All of the hall monitors were in class, too, which was strange. Usually, they stay out longer in first period for any tardy people. There's no way he took so long for them to retreat into their homerooms.
He glanced at the clock in the third year hallway. 9:25 AM. First period was going to end soon. A sigh escaped him with a smile. He could just make a beeline to the rooftop and skip the rest of the day. He'll pick up his missing assignments tomorrow morning if he doesn't come late again.
As he made his way up the stairs, he thought back to a few of his highlights from the past three years he'd attended this school. There was the blood pool incident, which he recalls with a twinge of guilt for what happened to the janitor8. He had the bright idea a few months back to create a humanoid robot that stood outside the window of every room a certain teacher of his was in. The robot's programming took a lot out of him, but the end result was quite satisfying. He could use it's tracking feature to make more interactive shows down the line.
Nevertheless, he could not have held such wonderful experiments had it not been for his beloved lab assistant. This 'lab assistant' just so happened to be sitting by the rooftop fence and was staring at her phone with her earbuds plugged in. A soft chuckle left him as he sat down next to her and pulled out his trusty pencil on his ear.
The clip on his mechanical pencil got stuck in his hair. He let it hang there in a disappointed silence. All of that work in the morning to get every knot out was for nothing…
"Rui?" He caught Mizuki's attention now. One of her earbuds was plucked out in her fingertips. "The hell is that in your hair?"
"Why, it's my beloved pencil!" He couldn't help but giggle at her unamused expression.
She rolled her eyes and groaned. "You mean that pencil that broke on you? You're never giving it up, are you?"
"It's a beloved gift from the stationary store." In a swift strike, he ripped out the pencil from his hair. Some strands stayed caught in the juncture between clip and pencil. "You can't possibly expect me to throw it out like garbage, can you?"
With the pencil in his hands, he could feel where the pencil had broken. Fortunately, the clip survived, but where the pencil's lead goes was left exposed. It also didn't have a space for an eraser, so he had to carry one around. Ah, shucks, he forgot his eraser at home.
Mizuki plugged her attention back into whatever she was watching. Not that Rui minded: he could use some work on his notebook of ideas. Oh, and he could brush up on that idea he had last night about the soldier. They needed a story if he wanted their finale ultimo to leave a meaningful impact. That song from last night played in his head like it never left.
"Got any new ideas?" Mizuki was still staring at her phone, but now that he looked at her, she still hadn't put her earbud back where it was.
He wasn't one to deny an intrigued audience. "It's a bit unconventional for my standards, but I found a song from an underground artist online just last night, and I was greatly inspired for this idea."
That piqued her interest. "I didn't take you for an underground music hunter."
"Neither did I," he flipped open his notepad to the end page and clicked the mechanical pencil's dispenser a few times, "but alas, it kept me up all night."
With an invigorated spirit, he began sketching out a front view of the stage, hoping to draw out the image in his head from last night. A stage here, some electrics9 to get a feel for where the lights would come from, the mountain set pieces themselves…
Now that he thought about it, he wondered if he could try a little something. "How familiar are you with the story of The Little Match Girl?"
She paused the video with a befuddled look. "The Little Match Girl?"
"It's a fairy tale by Hans Christen Anderson." His sketch stopped midway through the second mountain. "The story is as follows:
"Once upon a time,
there was a little girl
that sold matches
every winter night.
If she failed to sell every match,
she would incur her father's wrath
for not earning enough to live.
Huddled between two houses,
the little girl lit her matches,
one by one to keep herself warm
amidst the unrelenting cold.
In every flame struck,
the light of the flame gave illusion
to a wonderful dream.
The first was of a warm iron stove.
The second was a lovely roasted goose.
The third was a kind, loving family.
The fourth was of a Christmas tree.
Before the fifth match was lit,
a shooting star flew through the night sky,
and she tearfully recalled
her late grandmother's tale.
'In every shooting star,
someone is on their way to Heaven.'
The fifth vision the little girl saw
was that of her late grandmother
filled with all the love and kindness
the little girl could ever ask for.
Her desperation consumed her,
and the little girl struck
all of her matches at once
all to keep the visage
of her late grandmother alive.
As the little girl had no matches for the night,
she passes away in a frozen sleep,
smiling in joy and peace
as her grandmother carried her soul away
into an endless dream of Heaven.
"The song I found online didn't give me that exact idea. It began with a weary soldier bearing a burden that slowly consumed them in an ice cold blizzard, but now that I think about it, the song could also aspire to be a wonderful adaptation of the Little Match Girl."
Ah, his love for storytelling would always precede him. He could work a little more on his prose, but there was nothing more satisfying than a story well told. However, it appeared his dramatics were a bit too well-executed, as once he properly observed Mizuki's reactions, he noted her widened eyes.
"Seriously? That's a fairy tale?" Compared to previous expressions Rui has seen in her, this look was less shocked and more despondent. "I've heard about how nursery rhymes and fairy tales actually have darker meanings, but this is just depressing."
He chuckled. "It is only through tales of caution we learn how to keep ourselves safe. Children learn best from more direct examples."
"What's the meaning in this one, then?" She planted her head on the palm of her hand. "I can't blame the little girl for using up all of her matches, but what kind of a lesson do you learn from that? Don't mourn your dead loved ones?"
He let a beat pass longer just to see her eyes slit in an annoyed acceptance.
"He~eh, the whole lesson is to just move on and don't be like her. Stop mourning the past, focus on yourself."
"Really?" Seems like it was his turn to be confused. "I saw it was a tale to cherish the memories you have. The tragedy comes from no one noticing the girl's suffering."
"Is that so?" Mizuki twiddled the wire of the unplugged earbud in her hand. "Not being able to do anything about your suffering but wish for the end, huh?"
Now that was very far from how he interpreted it. He's not unfamiliar with uncomfortable topics, as he comes across them from time to time in some of the plays he reads, and it comes up in conversation with her often. It wasn't like she was wrong, either: in the fairy tale's entirety10, the little girl begs the illusion of her grandmother to carry her to Heaven and spare her all her suffering. The idea of someone's life being unsalvageable to the point giving up was the only option was…
Both of them went back to silence afterwards. He stared at the unfinished sketch in his notepad, then at his broken pencil. There was still a lot of time to kill, and he knew she was planning to skip the whole day as usual. That's fine. He was planning to do so, too.
He laid back on the fence and glanced at her from the corner of his eye. She never put her earbud back in. He could faintly hear a soundtrack blasting from it.
"What are you doing after you graduate?" She asked.
The answer was easy. "I'll need to wait on my admission status, but I'll most likely head to Shinjuku Academy. They have more engineering-focused courses, and I'm in dire need of experience."
There was a tremble in her hand that drew Rui's attention as she paused the video again. "Weren't you planning on going into theater or something? What's all this about?"
Wasn't that a question for the ages. "I can only do so much with my guerilla shows."
Her mouth opened and closed, as if unable to pick together a response. She ultimately gave up and glared at the other side of the rooftop.
Rui repeated the mantra in his head. He was going to a prestigious academy in Shinjuku where he would get access to state of the art technology like no other. He would be surrounded by peers filled with their own geniuses, and all of it was to give himself a shot at a backup career since he was well aware he could not rely on his solo shows to do the work for him. If he wanted to at least get by when he was older, he had to do what it took.
He repeated the mantra again and fiddled with his pencil as he did so. He would go to the academy in Shinjuku, be surrounded by people with one thing in common with him, and study for when his future inevitably falls apart.
One last time. He'd go to Shinjuku, study, and…
A jaded sigh came from Mizuki. "You're graduating in a month."
"That's true," Rui stopped fidgeting with his broken pencil.
There was the quiet shuffling of fabric to his right. "You can't just sneak in here and hang out on the rooftop after that, can you?"
He forced out a laugh. "Unfortunately, not."
As he sat here with Mizuki at his side, he remembered every single day he spent up here, on this rooftop, where it was just the two of them. The reception of his ideas, the playful banter they shared, all of these memories only served to churn a storm of gloom in his chest.
He does his best to not let it show, and managed to look back at her once he swallowed his tears and smothered those feelings down to ash. She was staring at him with her legs pulled towards herself. Anything he could discern from her face landed a blank. How embarrassing. Did she feel the same way about this situation?
She looked away from him the second their eyes met and stared at the floor. Her earbud was still in her fingertips. "I've been a little bored, lately."
That's his cue to talk. "Bored, you say?"
"I'm just thinking a few ideas." She straightened up and stretched, then slouched back down. It reminded him of a cat. "Maybe something dumb, like stuffing the principal's office with late passes, or having one of your robots haunt the school."
This, he could work with. "You don't usually initiate ideas. If you're interested in a new performance, I'm sure I can figure out a way to hack into the school's intercom."
Mizuki's eyes snapped to him with a smirk. "Oho~? If this is the last time you're pulling off a prank, you've gotta make it the best thing ever."
"Last time? Pray tell, can't I leave behind a thousand years' worth of confetti cannons?"
Both of them devolved into a fit of laughs, careless of the world and free from their troubles. Whatever he was feeling earlier washed away into a usual warmth that left him rambling with Mizuki about all sorts of ideas on their mischief. It would take some time to prepare everything, but ideally it'd be carried out before graduation so both of them could bear witness to it.
Once the sun was on the verge of setting into the horizon, Rui suppressed the idea of holding her close in an embrace as they both left the school grounds and parted ways to return home. The walk back for him was filled with a quiet hum of the birds flitting through the air, and the echoes of laughs he kept in his mind, looping endlessly for as long as possible.
It wasn't until he opened the front door to his house that those memories replaying in his head were accompanied by a faint melody. 'a heavy burden,' huh? It gave him a calm rush down his spine, and a comfortable weight in his mind settled, saying it's okay to stop here, it's okay to let go for a moment.
He walked past the couch's pillows strewn about the living room and went straight for his bedroom. There were a few drafts he wanted to do regarding the little scheme he was planning with Mizuki, but once he turned his computer on, he noticed he'd received a notification. Was it a new video upload? He clicked open his notifications tab, and found that it was a reply to that comment he made last night.
It was from K themself.
K: Thank you for listening. Please await the next song.
Haha. He might as well multitask by having some of K's songs in the background he hadn't listened to yet.
For the rest of the night, he picked apart a few recycled electronics he pulled out of his old shelves and managed to pull together some ideas on how to repurpose his current drones to make the experiment with Mizuki play out as perfectly as possible. It was fun, and stimulating enough to keep him from slumping back onto his sofa and drowning in his dreams.
All the while, he might have littered the margins of some loose leaf paper with some show ideas he garnered from listening to more of K's works. They're giving him many inspirations, and he was very interested in making every single inspiration come alive in the near future.
Rui was in the garage laid flat to the floor. It's been a whole day after he graduated from junior high. He suspended his disbelief of such a thing by recounting everything that's happened leading up to it.
About a week after he started planning his final demonstration with Mizuki, his parents came back home. Rui cleaned the house to the best of his ability (as in stuffing dirty laundry under his sofa and haphazardly rinsing off the grime of a few dishes) but did take advantage of his parents' grace for the better part of housework. They asked him about junior high and what he wanted to do for graduation. He told them he wanted some time to work on his next show.
Of course, the highlight of the past month was the prank itself. Rui initially envisioned using a mish-mashed recording of passing period chatters he'd fantasized being a part of and a discordant soundtrack. If it was possible, he wanted to create some puppets to hang around the school to give the students and faculty a nice little surprise. A maze of dolls, he called it!
Mizuki offered to edit together the audio for the intercom step, which he was more than happy to let her do. Both of them worked tirelessly the next two weeks, and Rui was sure he might have taken some of his mother's 'energy herbal tea' for his own use. It surprisingly worked, so at least he knew where to go if he wanted to stay up a few hours longer than usual.
The day before graduation, their scheme went off without a hitch. An hour before school began, Rui managed to locate an old wall in one of the hallways that he dug into to get access to the intercom's wiring. Mizuki arrived shortly after and was completely drained from having up wake up so early in the morning. Though, he fondly recalled Mizuki's eager smile and bright eyes once she saw how he was going to hack into the intercom.
It took a little longer than he expected, since they were still trying to evade faculty intervention, but once he was able to hook up a device that was connected to Mizuki's phone by Bluetooth, he played her track.
It sounded like the school chatters were recorded live as he could pick out a few voices he recognized from his class. Due to his intense concentration on the soundtrack, he flinched at the sound of broken glass. There was a faculty member down the hall he heard drop some unfavorable swears, which sent Mizuki into a hysterical fit of barely concealed snickering.
Phase two of the plan was the tricky part. Prior to this school day, Rui lingered longer after school to set everything into motion. He found a map of the school online and managed to calculate the dimensions of the building in the weeks leading up to the prank. All that he had left to do was to estimate every drone's starting and end positions in a way that wouldn't catch anyone's attention.
He stuck to bushes, gates and dirt mounds to hide his drones and dolls since for this plan to work, he wanted to avoid faculty intervention at all costs. Rui had to trust that his programming wouldn't collapse on him because every drone was being controlled at the same time. There was a radar built into the device he was using, so he programmed it to also include a status condition on every drone connected to it.
All of his drones had a small doll tied to them just about twice the size of the palm of his hand. Mizuki sourced most of the dolls' outfits, which were all sorts of lolita-inspired frills, laces and poofy skirts paired with grotesquely carved out faces. That was his personal touch, which she was adamant on at least trying to keep them cute with the horror stuff. Unfortunately, he couldn't track every doll's condition so he had to trust that the device was telling him with every functional drone, there was a doll in perfect quality as he left it.
He sent the drones at full throttle, hoping to get this step done as soon as possible. The seconds ticked by with his racing heartbeat, and she loomed over his shoulder in a quiet anticipation.
After securing the dolls to the walls of the school, his drones made a beeline to their end destination (being on the roof of the room between stairway and rooftop). Both of them sighed in relief. The final part of the plan was to get rid of the evidence, rush to the rooftop and gawk at everyone's reactions throughout the school day. He left behind the Bluetooth device so her soundtrack would play for as long as possible. Don't worry, he tucked the device behind the wall's shell and made sure to patch up the hole as much as he could with some tape and paint.
The breeze of the rooftop greeted them once she shoved the door open. The glare of the sun just behind them, circled by clouds, only bounced off of the light in her eyes as she picked out the first few victims to laugh at.
"Oh, man," she got out in between breaths, "they're scared out of their minds! Oh, shoot, is that the principal—ahaha! Rui, you've got to see this!"
He stepped next to her and held onto the wires of the rooftop fence. Just a few stories below them, the principal was talking to a few of the teachers that looked extremely disturbed, judging by their body language. There wasn't any pleasure he found in the suffering of others, but this was less a harmful act and more of a grandiose statement. He might have taken the inspiration from Mizuki's interpretation of the Little Match Girl and how it was a story on having to lose your childhood because of circumstances you couldn't control.
Before first period began, he disconnected her phone from the intercom. An announcement rang afterwards, consoling the students for the terrifying start to the school day and the promise they would find the perpetrator behind all this. Hah, as if!
All throughout the school day, Mizuki's laughs were the loudest (though she was still quiet to keep them from getting caught) as both of them filled in the gaps for what conversations couldn't travel up to the rooftop. Most students were taking pictures and posting about it, and some other students were having amusing reactions to the dolls. One student in particular turned around and despite their friends beckoning them to look, they solemnly refused. That got a chuckle out of him.
As the sun set, and all of the students headed home for the day, they were sat down by the fence watching the blues of the sky fade to an orange hue. Tomorrow, Rui would have to sit through an entire ceremony 'celebrating' his completion of junior high. His admission to the academy in Shinjuku was confirmed. His future was set in stone.
Even as the ache in his heart grew, he wasn't going to pry into Mizuki's life any more than he already has. Both of them sat in silence, and soon enough, they were saying their final goodbyes as he collected his drones and she collected the dolls. They were originally his, but he wondered how long she would hold onto the dolls until she threw them out.
Not long after, both of them headed home. He went to bed early that night at the behest of his parents to prepare for graduation, but he probably didn't truly fall asleep until an hour or two of pretending to do so. Between staying awake and falling asleep, he was ruminating over what other ideas he could have devised with her at his side.
Graduation itself was nothing special to him. It was a milestone to others, but to him, he knew he could spend his time more wisely in his garage. Even after the little photo session he had with his parents, he was thinking about his projects as he would during junior high. Nothing really changed between graduation and his daily life. He could have been reading a play, or working on a show idea he's had for a while… Ah, what about that idea of the Little Match Girl?
He dusted off his pants and went to his computer. He had a tab open to K's channel, so he clicked on it and—
They posted a new song?
It wasn't surprising they did so. Throughout the past month, they've been posting music non-stop. He's heard every song twice about now, and every single one filled him with a sense of acceptance he couldn't name. Their music was gaining traction, and with that came a few more comments than usual. He recalled a few that came to mind:
"This is painful, but beautiful. I'm in tears."
"How do you do this? I feel so sad, but there's hope in your music despite that. It's like I'm being told a tragedy."
"Thank you to everyone that's been there in my life. I'm so happy I chose to live."
Painful, but beautiful. Tragic. Choosing to live despite the odds. Rui was creating overcomplicated interpretations of what he heard that reading simple descriptions of K's songs was leaving him floored.
To any other listener, it was obvious these descriptions would fit best. To Rui, they meant something else. Not better, nor worse, just different than the general consensus. In K's music, he found a link between what he visualized and what he heard. He saw a desolate stage founded on the sound of solidarity, where any word spoken would remain engraved in the grooves of the stage floor and any step taken would be remembered by the echo of the house.
Don't get him wrong: he wasn't disappointed by seeing others' interpretations of K's music. It was relatively the same practice in theater, where published plays can have different adaptations depending on the theater you view it in. Some plays require a strict adaptation whilst others are more leisure with their requirements. In fact, he was happy to see there were others enjoying the same songs he did for what was relatively the same reasons as him—a sense of connection to the song. Where the connection point happened was where things deviated between him and the others.
Never mind his rambling. For now, he wanted to listen to what K created today. He clicked on the new video with the same black screen, titled 'solemn vow,' and played the song.
He had no words.
He scrolled to the comment section, having realized the song was out all day so there was plenty of time for others to make their statements on the song.
insect_joy103: it's so new than your other works but it still sounds so amazing!!
soundofclouds: Wow. My friend showed me this song. I feel called out.
fire_the_flame: you capture so much in so little time i'm so moved i wish i could do something with this song
A wish to do something with the song?
That's what he's been doing for the past month he's known K's music. He imagined an adaptation of the Little Match Girl with 'a heavy burden' and had some other ideas based on the rest of their works. This song, however, felt so different from the other ones. It was the very definition of a solemn acceptance brought to life. He placed a tentative hand to his heart, which thrummed with an anguish he couldn't describe.
He had to do something with this song. He's seen a few comments about some media sharing sites throughout his time on the Internet, such as PicShare, but he was more intrigued by DiaryThrive11 which was a live journaling website. Apparently, some novel writers began their chapters there which then sprouted into successful titles. He wasn't into the idea of using it for fame, since again, he was trying to keep his personal life off-line, but if he could actually write out an entire playscript inspired by this song and manage to get it online?
…What was he thinking? He knows nothing is going to change about himself. There was no way his ideas could ever be accepted, even less be understood, but in the time he spent listening to K's discography he thought less of how inevitable his fallout was and more about the ideas he could express through his feelings alone. He doesn't do that. All of his shows are for the purposes of telling the audience a story they can enjoy. He can come up with ambitious ideas worthy of the stage, sure, but the idea of using his own feelings to express a gratitude towards a composer he had no personal ties to? Kamishiro Rui is not that kind of playwright.
That doesn't mean voltaic_ can't be experimental with his works.
Late into the night, Rui created a DiaryThrive account and after refining a draft of the script he wrote in a frenzy for 'solemn vow,' he filled out the post's tagging requirements and sent it off. Considering his account was new, it was unlikely his posts would receive any attention. He still credited K's work nonetheless.
He was proud of his script-work, too. In his constant rereads, he couldn't help but pick up on creative decisions he made here and there regarding the sound effects he envisioned, or the props that represented certain aspects of the song he personally interpreted. It was also a play he could see himself performing, albeit an adaptation of it that accounted for the lack of actors.
As 'solemn vow' played in the background, he put together a plan throughout the night. He did just write an entire script and finish it in the same day, so he wanted to give it a test run. Some of his drones were perfect for representing a few roles here and there, and he could figure out a way to reduce the need for props. He couldn't pass up a good show, after all!
After a week of constant rehearsal, this is how Kamishiro Rui's interpretation of 'solemn vow' went:
He managed to code a program that allowed his drones to flip their metal shells inside out to bear the illusion of 'changing form.' This is because he wanted a tale of a ghost that could not shapeshift like its fellow ghosts. It did mimic their mannerisms and speech patterns, but it could not change.
That was the premise he wove his words with under the city lights. As he stood at a sidewalk's corner in Shibuya Crossing, he gently lifted his drones into flight as Rapunzel would with the floating lanterns and began his tale.
"Once upon a time,
a budding soul was given life
in the form of a young spirit
who you all may know as a ghost.
The ghost had many friends
and all of their regrets washed away
for every building haunted
and every person spooked."
All of his drones spun around him in a helix. The hanging pieces of ivory fabric he attached to them floated in a trail behind them, and with the rising moonlight's glow, the sheerness of the fabric dwindled.
Next cue: the drones lined up behind him, and in their own characteristic flairs he personally inducted to them, their outer shells switched.
"But for every passing fright,
each of the ghosts learned a new trick:
How to appear as a spider on your shoulder,
or as a person you once loved.
Soon, all of the young ghost's friends
flitted away into the darkness
for one thing was certain."
The drone to his right, placed just in between two drones that shapeshifted into insects, came to rest in his arms.
"The young ghost had no hope to plague the world with nightmares."
Next cue: the rest of the drones flew into the alleyway where he left a secured box for them to rest at. They weren't needed now as the focus was on the drone in his hands.
"It was a law of life
that for every soul turned into ghost,
they were destined to haunt and torment
unwilling souls that walked in the wrong place.
The young ghost, however,
did not want its ideas to cause harm."
Next cue: the drone in his hands sailed up to his right. His arm tailed just behind it in order to extend it out in a classic dramatic fashion. From behind him, one of his drones that flipped into a beetle fluttered to his left, which his left arm followed as well. He took a step back and continued:
"One of the elder ghosts
bore witness to its plight
and offered it an enticing deal:
'Wear the face of humans,
the mask of woven flesh.
I will make you a shell,
one that you will be giddy with
as you smile with your friends.
Appear to be a wicked beast
and I will grant you peace.'
What did peace mean to the young ghost?
Was it the quiet of the night and the rush of the rivers,
or was it the joy of basking in the sun
away from cold trembles and shivers?
'I do not know, I do not know,'
the ghost pleaded to the other,
'I wish to make friends and experience life,
but must it come with the cruelty
that all of you have accepted in your lives?'
'Question it all you want,'
the elder ghost turned a blind eye,
'but you must accept it solemnly,
if you wish to stay alive.'"
This part of the script was the climax. The elder ghost floated to just behind Rui, where it loomed above like a halo. The rest of the ghosts lined up in an arch behind him, back to their original forms. The young ghost came center stage before him as it awaited the next scene.
Rui's hand came to rest over the drone, cradling its head like a mother would to a child in need of comfort.
"The young ghost refused,
claiming its existence to be a farce
of what truly living as a ghost
should have been like.
Thus, the young ghost was punished."
The ghost in his hands transformed in spasms of flipped metal sheets, and became a windchime. Thin strings of metal hung from its body, and its tolls were reminiscent of sharp cries.
"Only the winds of the Earth will you feel,
only the gusts of the ghosts that pass by
will you bear witness to,
but never be a part of.
All of your haunts and spells
can no longer exist,
for they are only remembered
in those you've forsaken.
"And so, the young ghost became the windchime found on the porch of a family home, or in the bells of an entrance to an everyday market. The peace it sought for came at the price of never being able to laugh with its friends ever again. If you are ever hearing the faint call of bells in the winds, the troubles you carry can be shared with the young ghost, but only if you let it. Pity the ghost not, for its kindness is what rings true."
End scene. He bid farewell to the side glances of the street, stored his drones into the safety box, and went home.
His guerilla shows haven't garnered him an audience in the past few years he's dedicated to it. The last time it made an impact was with the junior high theater troupe's leader, but it ended up as the final nail in his coffin of isolation. If he wanted to make it in the theater industry, he needed to build connections. Too bad he wasn't cut out for that, but it didn't mean he wasn't a little disappointed none of the passers-by stayed around to watch. It may be that he needed to work on his diction, or were his stories too confusing? Different?
No, he can't think like that. The script was greatly cut down to account for any mishaps that might happen as a street performer, such as hecklers. Maybe he excluded too many details? He did omit a large part of the young ghost's life, and he completely cut the backstory on why ghosts came to exist in this world.
Most of the edits he made to the script for public performance was done on the original document, so he logged onto DiaryThrive to see the original form of the script. To his surprise, he had several notifications on the website.
Hold on. Notifications on DiaryThrive?
He clicked the notification tab open, and found most of them were replies to his post. He was expecting them to be nitpicks and jabs at his work, perhaps even using the site wrong, but to his utter astonishment…
livenup_andwink: what the heck?!! THIS IS SO GOOD
soundofclouds: I found this from solemn vow. Every scene was so descriptive. I'm in shock.
iaminurwalls: I sent this to my friend!!! Youre an amazing writer!!
He dug into the comments of 'solemn vow' and found someone had reposted a share link to his work in the comments. He clicked back onto the replies to his post; there were only a few of them, but every single one had nothing but words of praise for his work. These strangers online took the time to comment on his work. He considered if they were just algorithms, fake people disguised to look real, but he clicked on every commentor's account and found post histories, reposts and replies to other works. Every person that replied to his script was real.
He shook his head. Obviously, it was just shared interests that connected them together. There was nothing beyond that, no matter how much he started imagining an online audience keeping up with the scripts he posted.
…It wouldn't hurt to post one more script online, would it?
