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V6 Story IV – Part 09

“Shirayuki-san. I’ll ask Uka for help, so can you draw as many birds as possible? If we could get rid of most of them, we should be able to escape.”

Shirayuki’s eyes grew wide. She opened her fan swiftly.

“I have a question. After you summon the child, your belly will be open, but Miss Mayuzumi cannot close it if there are still crows around. What will you do then?”

The gravity of her stare demanded a serious answer, but I had none to give.

“I’ll figure something out myself,” I replied, knowing that it was not the answer she wanted to hear. “If we don’t do something, more people will die.”

My plan was surely far better than having more casualties. We might even get rid of all the crows.

I looked at the others, at Itsuki, cackling hysterically, at Benihina, trembling with fear. I didn’t want to see their lifeless bodies.

Shirayuki narrowed her eyes. She brandished her fan and opened it.

“You are willing to put yourself in harm’s way?”

I held her gaze. “Does someone being in danger weigh the same as someone dying?”

Shirayuki bit her lip and closed her eyes. Then, she opened them.

Thwack!

“…Huh?”

I was smacked on the cheek. I stared at her, confused.

She was biting her lip hard. With a tearful face, she wrote on the fan.

“You always do that.”

Then she stopped. She closed the fan without writing any more.

Snap.

When she opened it again, her face had completely changed. Gone was her tearful expression. She exuded solemn dignity, her expression cold and steady.

“I do not care about your reasoning. I will do what I have to do. Do you think I am powerless against those crows? Do not underestimate the ability of the Minase clan.”

Her declaration was firm, but I knew that an avian battle was unfavorable for Shirayuki. Without my help, the scales wouldn’t be tipped.

“Shirayuki-san, I…”

“My duty,” Shirayuki interrupted firmly, closing her fan with a decisive snap.

Then she opened it again. Her brush moved swiftly and with purpose.

“My duty is to protect you.”

I watched in astonishment as she pressed the fan against her arm. Before I could stop her, the fan flashed, the sharp paper cutting through her skin, drawing blood. Shirayuki gripped her brush and knelt down. She soaked the tip of the bruh on the pool of blood.

The Minase clan’s ability was influenced by the esper’s preconceived notions. The use of human blood was strictly forbidden, and the awareness of breaking taboo greatly enhanced the esper’s power.

Shirayuki’s face was calm. She held her breath and let her arm glide.

Crow.

The letters writhed, and a crimson wing emerged from the floor, reminiscent of a fish’s dorsal fin.

More characters trembled and collapsed, giving birth to more wings that drifted across the floor and cut through the air with force, filling the floor. In the next instant, hundreds of crows rose up to the ceiling in a flurry of red, beating their wings in unison.

Caw!

Crying all at once, they flew in the same trajectory, forming a red vortex in the air.

Mayuzumi closed her parasol as she watched the swarm of red. “Well done,” she said.

Shirayuki held her fan aloft.

Benihina looked around, fear etched across her face, while Itsuki continued to cackle without care. The crows soared faster, heedless of the pandemonium below. Their figures dissolved into the red, turning into a whirlpool of blood that filled the room.

The door shook violently from the incessant pounding. Boards splintered, and a black beak protruded from the shattered wood. The shadow beyond the stained glass window soared. The crows’ caws harmonized in a deafening chorus.

Shirayuki’s eyes widened, and she swung her fan down.

The door disintegrated, the stained glass shattered, a rainbow of shards rained down. Black shapes darted into the room, and a stream of red descended on them. Feathers flew, and fresh blood splattered onto the floor as hundreds of creatures, human-like screams reverberating, clashed in a chaotic frenzy.

The battle ended in an instant.

The flock of crows flew away, and the red swarm followed them out the door, intent on exterminating all of them.

Bodies, ravaged and torn to shreds, lay strewn at our feet, a testament to the overwhelming power differential. I could easily imagine the forest awash in red.

“Shirayuki-san!”

Shaken from my reverie, I rushed towards her. I removed my tie and tended to her bleeding arm. She looked away.

I grabbed her shoulder. “I could say the same to you. Why do you always do… this…”

My breath seized. Shirayuki’s face tensed, her gaze fixed on something.

On the shattered stained glass lay something. I swiftly shielded Shirayuki with my body.

It was a gigantic crow.

Large as a child, it was riddled with wounds, quivering uncontrollably. Its black feathers glistened with red, flesh exposed in some parts. Its skull was visible. Nevertheless, it refused to fall. It stood on trembling legs and stared intently at us.

As if to say it would not show a miserable appearance.

As if its pride lay in standing tall even in defeat.

The crow’s eyes locked onto ours. I swallowed. Its pupils brimmed with deep sorrow, yet there was also a hint of relief. Its wet eyes were reminiscent of those of a weary old man.

The crow endured in stoic silence.

Mayuzumi’s red parasol snapped open. Resting it on her shoulder, she sauntered toward the crow and looked it in the eyes.

“Are you satisfied?” she asked the bird, treating it as if it were human.

The wounded crow replied with a hoarse caw, spreading its injured wings to say it had no regrets.

The red parasol twirled round and round. Mayuzumi fixed her gaze on the bird.

“I see,” she said. “Then you may rest now.”

The crow let out a weary cry. Its wings quivered as it began to close them. The bird lowered its beak and stilled. A white light illuminated its back.

The crow never moved again.

It passed away, standing.

We left the house. Crimson leaves were blanketed by a pile of bodies, just as I imagined. Black corpses littered the ground, while red crows perched their wings on the trees.

Shirayuki snapped her fingers, and they transformed into pools of blood that dripped down the branches.

“Thank you, Shirayuki-san,” I said, carrying her on my back.

She nodded weakly. Benihina staggered forward, gazing at the surrounding forest with a vacant expression.

“We’re… safe,” she mumbled.

“Yes,” I affirmed. “All thanks to Shirayuki-san.”

If it weren’t for her, we might not have made it out alive.

Itsuki plopped down on the ground and stared blankly at the crow carcasses; he had stopped laughing. Benihina’s cheeks quivered as she began to weep, the sadness finally catching up to her.

“Why… Why did this have to happen?” she sobbed. “It should’ve been me… I’m a bad girl… I’m a liar.”

Her voice was filled with anguish, her face contorted. I remembered the words she kept repeating inside. She said it was all her fault.

She was racked with guilt. And so was Itsuki.

A person’s mind is a reflection of their own heart. All this time, he must have thought that he killed Hina.

“Benihina-san,” I said. “Aoi-san and Akimasa-san’s deaths are not your fault. You and Itsuki-san didn’t tell the esper the truth. You might have been selfish, but you cared about her.”

Though their actions led to Hina’s demise, they also did their best to support her so she wouldn’t succumb to loneliness.

“I’m sure not everything was bad.”

They wanted to destroy the birdcage; their hearts were in the right place.

But as I uttered these words, a strange unease crept into my mind. If they didn’t kill Aoi and Akimasa, who did?

“I see.” Itsuki nodded slightly. “If that’s how you see it, then I guess it wasn’t all that bad.”

Abruptly, he rose to his feet and strode towards the house.

“Itsuki-san!” I called. “Where are you going?!”

“To fetch the car keys,” he replied, his voice steady once more. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back soon.” He stepped over the corpses of the crows and disappeared through the entrance.

Benihina turned to me with a voice as small as a whisper. “Odagiri-san.” She touched my shoulder, brushing the blackened bloodstain on my clothes. “Akimasa-kun loved my sister. He cooked her favorite food every day and worked hard to make her happy. Aoi-san may have been harsh, but she was kind-hearted.”

Blood stained her pale fingertips. Benihana grasped my shoulder firmly.

Touching Akimasa’s blood, she went on, “Akimasa-kun and Aoi-san were all good people.” Tears welled up in her eyes. “So is Itsuki-san. They thought the others hated and resented them, and they might have changed, but they were nice.”

“I understand,” I murmured.

Even though we had barely exchanged a few words, Akimasa was a compassionate young man. Aoi was probably not a bad person either.

Benihina rested her face against my shoulder and closed her eyes, grieving the loss of Akimasa. Tears trickled down her pallid cheeks.

Suddenly, I heard hurried footsteps approaching us, crushing the fallen leaves underfoot. There was a dull thud. Benihina’s eyes widened, and her willowy frame tilted to the side.