IF THEY WERE HUMAN THEN WHAT WERE WE?
Apr. 23rd, 2022 08:19 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
seishinmuroiTakeshi Mutou had been an outsider. It hardly mattered that he’d held a job at the Ozaki clinic (a managerial position for the office), that he’d resided in Sotoba for approximately eight years, that he participated in all of the rituals, that he was a member of the mourning crew, and that he knew just about everyone in the village. (Almost everyone had passed through the clinic at one point or other. And if patients were too ill to pick up their medication, it was typically Takeshi who went out on his bicycle to deliver it. [Their family did own a car but usually it was either his wife or one of his children who drove it. Takeshi was fine with that. He’d never had far to travel.])
That was why he supposed no one had been overly surprised or upset when he’d insisted he was leaving the village after that memorable Kagura festival, one he truly wished he could forget. Like his friend Yuuki (an outsider far newer than himself, one who’d only moved to the village around a year ago at the time), he hadn’t participated in the hurling of stones at the mistress of Kanaemasa. But Toshio, another friend, had been correct. When Yuuki had been adamant he hadn’t taken part in the butchery, Toshio had pointed out that just idly watching made him complicit. It had been the same for Takeshi. As horrified and stunned as he’d been, he hadn’t endeavored to intercede, to save that pitiful creature for more than a moment.
He’d harbored suspicions, nursed them in his heart, long before that fateful night. “What would you do if I told you the cause of all these deaths were corpse demons?” Toshio had asked him shortly after Ritchan’s passing with a perfectly straight face. Takeshi’s stomach had dropped. He could discern his heart hammering in his throat. Even as his dry lips moved to assert that it must have been a joke, even as he forced out a terribly unnatural sounding laugh, he couldn’t dismiss the query in his mind.
And he’d been there, working at the clinic when Ikumi-san had barged in shrieking about okiagari. It hadn’t seemed ludicrous then. (He’d been the one to rush in to inform Toshio although he hadn’t exactly been unaware. “I can hear it, loud as she’s being.”) And although Toshio had rebuked her, the sarcasm had been gentle, not biting which wasn’t like him. (Typically, frustration with Ikumi-san lead to scathingly derisive comments. [Toshio did get fed up with all the unnecessary house calls where he was forced to listen to her prattle about omens and supernatural forces.]) Furthermore, Toshio had seemed to intentionally rile her up, agitate her rather than calm her. He’d practically cajoled her into storming Kanaemasa and calling upon him should she need someone to check the residents' pulses. (Toshio had later been contacted although not specifically by Ikumi-san.)
At some point, Okiagari had no longer been confined to fables. So..no one was utterly shocked when Kirishiki-san’s nature was revealed. But..even if she’d been the cause of his son’s demise, Takeshi had not enjoyed watching her destruction. She’d screamed and wept, been as terrified as any human when confronted with their death. He couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. Shimizu-san was confident it was her who’d murdered his daughter so it wasn’t as though Takeshi couldn’t understand his resentment, his acts of violence. Takeshi had attended Megumi-chan’s funeral and given the parents the condolence money from Toshio since he’d been unable to attend (much to his relief since the Shimizus clearly blamed him for Megumi-chan’s death). To lose a child was a terrible thing, a grief no one but a parent could appreciate. But all the same...the villagers had struck him as inhuman with their brutality.
Takeshi hadn’t smelled any perfume in his eldest son’s room. So perhaps the difference had been a matter of sureness rather than anything more substantial. He didn’t know who’d taken his son to the grave. It might have been Kirishiki-san or it might have been someone else. But..she’d just looked so wretched and pathetic. He wished he’d averted his gaze but..some force had compelled him to play observer. Initially, he’d tried to hold Toshio back, but he’d desisted soon enough, and several villagers had helped Toshio (including Shimizu-san) hammer a stake into her heart.
The villagers spoke of plans, hunting the shiki. But Takeshi knelt there on his knees, begging for forgiveness. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t participate. He saw them as humans. And since his son had been killed by them, it was possible he’d risen. Even if he learned his son had murdered someone else, he couldn’t imagine it, driving a stake through his heart.
It wasn’t that Takeshi had blamed any of the villagers. The shiki were natural enemies of people. He’d said so directly. But he simply couldn't motivate himself to suppress his feelings, exterminate them. He’d decided he’d go to a land where people didn’t have natural enemies. He’d already sent his family to Mizobe to protect them. The idea was that he would join them there. He really didn’t want to see what would become of the village.
But in the end...he couldn’t leave. He supposed it wasn’t true that he was an outsider. Even if he had no family ties...He had been accepted into the village, participated in all the rituals. He’d made friends, raised a family there. He’d loved his job. And if Tohru still resided there, it seemed wrong to leave without confirming it for himself.
Takeshi had found Tohru with Ritchan, his precious colleague. And he’d been the one to murder them. It hadn’t been his intention. It was the last thing in the world he wanted. But neither his son nor his co-worker wished to hurt anyone. Tohru had implored him for acceptance, love and forgiveness for his sins, confessing that he had fed on countless villagers, that he’d been the one to kill his best friend, Natsuno. Ritchan had refused to feed, had yet to drink from anyone. She was starving and all she wished was to die without claiming any lives. They were in such pain...and they were resolved.
He’d spoken to his son in private for as much time as they could spare, holding him close, ruffling his hair, never flinching away even though his eyes were strange and his body temperature ice cold. This was his son, his beloved child. He’d assured Tohru of his unconditional love, reminded him that Tohru hadn’t asked for any of this, that he was placed in such a ridiculously unfair situation. Of course he didn’t blame him. Of course he never would.
Takeshi had tried to persuade his son to run away with him. He could donate his blood and he was sure his wife Shizuka would as well and Tohru’s siblings, Aoi-chan, and Tamotsu-kun. But Tohru was so weary..so frightened of harming anyone else. So fervently did he implore his father to kill him. Both Ritchan and Tohru would prefer it was someone they knew, someone they cared for who ended their second lives. Surely, that person would be more gentle. Surely that person wouldn’t gaze at them with contempt.
He’d wept but he’d done it. And then he’d fled before the mob arrived, unable to bear the thought of their enraged countenances. He doubted they’d be capable of perceiving his deed as a tragic. And still Takeshi hadn’t left the village.
The fire had broken out and he’d used his car to help evacuate women and children. He was one of the last people to leave for good and one of the first to return. When he heard the clinic was being rebuilt, he’d asked his family how they’d feel about moving back in. Their sentiments mirrored his own. They felt they belonged in Sotoba and that was where Tohru rested.
Takeshi had met with Toshio, asked for his job back in person. For some reason Toshio felt he was entitled to a raise. They were still friends. At least Takeshi wished to believe that. But there was unquestionably a heaviness between them. He didn’t like it. He so fiercely wanted to bridge the gap. Toshio had always been someone Takeshi admired, ever since he’d inherited the clinic. He much preferred him to his father. And their friendship was part of what made his time in Sotoba so enjoyable. He didn’t want to lose that too. So one day after work when it was just the two of them, Takeshi approached him.
“I know..things have been awkward between us. But I don’t blame you. Truly, I have no right to. With these hands..” And they began to shake even as he stared at them. He could feel it, the weight of those phantom stakes.
“I killed Tohru and Ritchan myself. It doesn’t matter that that’s what they wanted. I’m the same as you. I’ve killed in this village. I’ve watched its destruction and now I’m watching its rebirth. Maybe it’s impossible to return to the relationship we had before. But even if we can’t..I’d at least like us to talk a little more. Few people share our experiences. I can’t..even discuss any of this with my wife. Thankfully, I’d convinced Shizuka, Aoi, and Tamatsu to move to Mizobe before the Kagura festival. They know something strange happened. They likely guess the cause but no one discusses it. So they are spared definitive proof. There was an epidemic and a fire but those hard times are behind them now.” He wouldn’t take that from them. He’d spare them the nightmares.
That was why he supposed no one had been overly surprised or upset when he’d insisted he was leaving the village after that memorable Kagura festival, one he truly wished he could forget. Like his friend Yuuki (an outsider far newer than himself, one who’d only moved to the village around a year ago at the time), he hadn’t participated in the hurling of stones at the mistress of Kanaemasa. But Toshio, another friend, had been correct. When Yuuki had been adamant he hadn’t taken part in the butchery, Toshio had pointed out that just idly watching made him complicit. It had been the same for Takeshi. As horrified and stunned as he’d been, he hadn’t endeavored to intercede, to save that pitiful creature for more than a moment.
He’d harbored suspicions, nursed them in his heart, long before that fateful night. “What would you do if I told you the cause of all these deaths were corpse demons?” Toshio had asked him shortly after Ritchan’s passing with a perfectly straight face. Takeshi’s stomach had dropped. He could discern his heart hammering in his throat. Even as his dry lips moved to assert that it must have been a joke, even as he forced out a terribly unnatural sounding laugh, he couldn’t dismiss the query in his mind.
And he’d been there, working at the clinic when Ikumi-san had barged in shrieking about okiagari. It hadn’t seemed ludicrous then. (He’d been the one to rush in to inform Toshio although he hadn’t exactly been unaware. “I can hear it, loud as she’s being.”) And although Toshio had rebuked her, the sarcasm had been gentle, not biting which wasn’t like him. (Typically, frustration with Ikumi-san lead to scathingly derisive comments. [Toshio did get fed up with all the unnecessary house calls where he was forced to listen to her prattle about omens and supernatural forces.]) Furthermore, Toshio had seemed to intentionally rile her up, agitate her rather than calm her. He’d practically cajoled her into storming Kanaemasa and calling upon him should she need someone to check the residents' pulses. (Toshio had later been contacted although not specifically by Ikumi-san.)
At some point, Okiagari had no longer been confined to fables. So..no one was utterly shocked when Kirishiki-san’s nature was revealed. But..even if she’d been the cause of his son’s demise, Takeshi had not enjoyed watching her destruction. She’d screamed and wept, been as terrified as any human when confronted with their death. He couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. Shimizu-san was confident it was her who’d murdered his daughter so it wasn’t as though Takeshi couldn’t understand his resentment, his acts of violence. Takeshi had attended Megumi-chan’s funeral and given the parents the condolence money from Toshio since he’d been unable to attend (much to his relief since the Shimizus clearly blamed him for Megumi-chan’s death). To lose a child was a terrible thing, a grief no one but a parent could appreciate. But all the same...the villagers had struck him as inhuman with their brutality.
Takeshi hadn’t smelled any perfume in his eldest son’s room. So perhaps the difference had been a matter of sureness rather than anything more substantial. He didn’t know who’d taken his son to the grave. It might have been Kirishiki-san or it might have been someone else. But..she’d just looked so wretched and pathetic. He wished he’d averted his gaze but..some force had compelled him to play observer. Initially, he’d tried to hold Toshio back, but he’d desisted soon enough, and several villagers had helped Toshio (including Shimizu-san) hammer a stake into her heart.
The villagers spoke of plans, hunting the shiki. But Takeshi knelt there on his knees, begging for forgiveness. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t participate. He saw them as humans. And since his son had been killed by them, it was possible he’d risen. Even if he learned his son had murdered someone else, he couldn’t imagine it, driving a stake through his heart.
It wasn’t that Takeshi had blamed any of the villagers. The shiki were natural enemies of people. He’d said so directly. But he simply couldn't motivate himself to suppress his feelings, exterminate them. He’d decided he’d go to a land where people didn’t have natural enemies. He’d already sent his family to Mizobe to protect them. The idea was that he would join them there. He really didn’t want to see what would become of the village.
But in the end...he couldn’t leave. He supposed it wasn’t true that he was an outsider. Even if he had no family ties...He had been accepted into the village, participated in all the rituals. He’d made friends, raised a family there. He’d loved his job. And if Tohru still resided there, it seemed wrong to leave without confirming it for himself.
Takeshi had found Tohru with Ritchan, his precious colleague. And he’d been the one to murder them. It hadn’t been his intention. It was the last thing in the world he wanted. But neither his son nor his co-worker wished to hurt anyone. Tohru had implored him for acceptance, love and forgiveness for his sins, confessing that he had fed on countless villagers, that he’d been the one to kill his best friend, Natsuno. Ritchan had refused to feed, had yet to drink from anyone. She was starving and all she wished was to die without claiming any lives. They were in such pain...and they were resolved.
He’d spoken to his son in private for as much time as they could spare, holding him close, ruffling his hair, never flinching away even though his eyes were strange and his body temperature ice cold. This was his son, his beloved child. He’d assured Tohru of his unconditional love, reminded him that Tohru hadn’t asked for any of this, that he was placed in such a ridiculously unfair situation. Of course he didn’t blame him. Of course he never would.
Takeshi had tried to persuade his son to run away with him. He could donate his blood and he was sure his wife Shizuka would as well and Tohru’s siblings, Aoi-chan, and Tamotsu-kun. But Tohru was so weary..so frightened of harming anyone else. So fervently did he implore his father to kill him. Both Ritchan and Tohru would prefer it was someone they knew, someone they cared for who ended their second lives. Surely, that person would be more gentle. Surely that person wouldn’t gaze at them with contempt.
He’d wept but he’d done it. And then he’d fled before the mob arrived, unable to bear the thought of their enraged countenances. He doubted they’d be capable of perceiving his deed as a tragic. And still Takeshi hadn’t left the village.
The fire had broken out and he’d used his car to help evacuate women and children. He was one of the last people to leave for good and one of the first to return. When he heard the clinic was being rebuilt, he’d asked his family how they’d feel about moving back in. Their sentiments mirrored his own. They felt they belonged in Sotoba and that was where Tohru rested.
Takeshi had met with Toshio, asked for his job back in person. For some reason Toshio felt he was entitled to a raise. They were still friends. At least Takeshi wished to believe that. But there was unquestionably a heaviness between them. He didn’t like it. He so fiercely wanted to bridge the gap. Toshio had always been someone Takeshi admired, ever since he’d inherited the clinic. He much preferred him to his father. And their friendship was part of what made his time in Sotoba so enjoyable. He didn’t want to lose that too. So one day after work when it was just the two of them, Takeshi approached him.
“I know..things have been awkward between us. But I don’t blame you. Truly, I have no right to. With these hands..” And they began to shake even as he stared at them. He could feel it, the weight of those phantom stakes.
“I killed Tohru and Ritchan myself. It doesn’t matter that that’s what they wanted. I’m the same as you. I’ve killed in this village. I’ve watched its destruction and now I’m watching its rebirth. Maybe it’s impossible to return to the relationship we had before. But even if we can’t..I’d at least like us to talk a little more. Few people share our experiences. I can’t..even discuss any of this with my wife. Thankfully, I’d convinced Shizuka, Aoi, and Tamatsu to move to Mizobe before the Kagura festival. They know something strange happened. They likely guess the cause but no one discusses it. So they are spared definitive proof. There was an epidemic and a fire but those hard times are behind them now.” He wouldn’t take that from them. He’d spare them the nightmares.
