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V7 Story IV – Part 09

The flames crackled. A heavy silence filled the room. I looked down at the floor and found hands and feet buried in the sand. The color of the flesh buried beneath the remnants of the sculptures were human, vivid even in their dismembered state.

“That concludes my story. It was fun to talk to a human being after such a long time… I apologize for dragging you into this. He seemed quite confused. I knew we had guests, but I’m glad no one got hurt.”

“Will you stop?”

That was all I managed.

Hishigami regarded me with a perplexed frown. “Stop? What do you mean?”

“Stop killing the girls. You should go outside.”

Hishigami gave a bitter smile. Immense weariness flashed across his face. Leaning against the pipe chair, he cast his gaze up at the dark ceiling and shook his head.

“It’s too late,” he said. “Even if I were to go outside, it would only be after exacting my revenge. I can’t forgive him for Hikari’s death.”

“Would killing the girls make you satisfied? No matter how much the puppet Hishigami cries, time lost can’t be reclaimed. Hikari-san won’t come back to life. Your plans are pointless.”

Hishigami raised both hands, and his smile contorted into a sneer. Yet his eyes narrowed wistfully, as if looking at something long gone.

“You are young, so very young. Sometimes even the most meaningless of things can hold meaning.”

“I know it’s difficult for you to kill puppets that resemble Hikari-san.”

The moment I uttered those words, Hishigami’s eyebrows shot up, and his face twisted and stiffened.

I saw the puppet Hishigami grieving. Human and puppet, they were almost identical.

Therefore, they should have similar hearts. The murdered girls deserved pity, but so did the killer. Averting your gaze wouldn’t get rid of the pain that clawed at your heart.

Suddenly, the notion of killing puppets gave me a feeling of unease. The real one killed the puppets created by the puppet out of resentment.

But why didn’t he kill his own puppet? Why did he have to become a ghost?

Hishigami let out a heavy sigh. He still had more burden on his back, one that I couldn’t see.

“Mayuzumi-sama, are you here?! Sir! Are you all right?!”

I heard Kugutsu’s anxious voice from the distance.

“Why… this place is supposed to be sealed. Why is it open?”

Someone had entered the workshop. Hishigami grimaced. Without giving me a response, he shook his head.

“Ah, this is not good,” he said with a sigh. But his words belied the hint of delight in his voice. “I forgot to order the puppets to lock the door.”

The door to the workshop creaked open. A cloud of sand rose, blurring my vision and reflecting the light of the flames. As the sand settled, figures emerged in a row—Kugutsu, Maihime, and Mayuzumi. Black and white silhouettes stood side by side.

Hishigami, too, was present, along with the puppets. His eyes widened. Groaning, he staggered backwards. He clutched his head, seemingly enduring pain.

Hishigami cast a vacant gaze at the suffering puppet. Then suddenly, life flickered in his eyes. He kicked the chair away and stood up. Face dirtied with sand, he glared at his puppet counterpart. The puppet took another step back.

“Look at me!” the real Hishigami shouted.

Kugutsu’s eyes snapped wide open. Mayuzumi sneered. Maihime, who knew everything, was smiling.

Words failed to reach the puppet. Drool dribbled from his mouth, his convulsing body on the verge of collapsing. Hishigami swiftly retrieved something from the floor and held it up.

A severed human body part, bathed in a fiery crimson glow. A wrist, modeled after the dead, enveloped in an eerie light.

“Look! Look at me! I know you were searching for me!”

“Ah… ah…”

The puppet’s eyes widened. He recognized what Hishigami was holding, and the sight of his beloved brought him back to his senses. Slowly, his gaze shifted to the body holding the hand, peering through the lens of hatred at the person before him.

At the real Hishigami Akira. At the being who created him.

“I… You’re the killer!”

“Aaaaaahhh!”

There was a piercing scream. The puppet twisted his body as if struck by lightning and convulsed. Then abruptly, he froze. A long, seemingly endless amount of time passed. Wordlessly, the puppet turned his body back to normal.

Unmistakable hatred and loathing dwelled in his eyes.

“Why did you kill them?” he asked.

“Because what you did was unforgivable,” he answered.

The puppet took a step forward. “Why did you kill her?! Why did you kill Hikari again?!” he howled, sputtering saliva at the real one. “You were gone for so long! You had no right to do what you did! Why would you kill her?!”

“No, you killed her, you impostor!” Hishigami snapped back, throwing the hand.

Sand and dust rose as the dismembered part rolled on the floor. The cut revealed faded bones beneath, the imitation concealing the genuine.

Looking at the hand, the puppet Hishigami stopped moving, shock on his face. “I… killed her?” he mumbled blankly.

The hatred vanished from his eyes. He looked like a child on the verge of tears, the same reaction he showed when Mayuzumi asked him whether his cousin hated him.

His trembling lips parted. “What… What do you mean?” he asked in a pained voice.

“Because you’re a puppet.”

The real one’s eyes brimmed with the same loathing, the malevolent spirit venting its grudge. The puppet retreated a step. The genuine condemned the imitation for its sins mercilessly.

“Hikari died because of you! She was neurotic, but because of that, she was wonderfully perceptive, delicate, and unselfish. And you couldn’t understand that because you’re a puppet! That’s why Hikari died! Am I wrong?!”

I sensed fear from his voice. Hishigami Akira was afraid of something.

“N-No, you’re wrong. That can’t be it.”

The puppet’s face contorted. He vehemently shook his head from side to side. But his eyes told me he was frantically racking his brain, grappling incessantly with what he’d done.

“I-I showered her with love. I treated her with the best care, like you would a precious jewel. I spent as much time with her as possible… But you… You left us so you could immerse yourself in your work. You don’t get to say that to me!”

“Oh, but I do. I would’ve done a better job.” The genuine one flashed a wide smile. “Because you’re only a puppet,” he reiterated, as though whipping a weakened beast.

But was that really the case?

Watching him hold his head high, I couldn’t help but feel skeptical. Human this, puppet that. What did that have to do with anything?

He wasn’t present at the time of her death. Wasn’t that all that mattered?

“I… I killed Hikari…”

The puppet, however, was in turmoil. Wrinkles of age marked his face. For the first time, I realized my mistake. He was no longer young; his deranged mind simply gave him a youthful appearance. The puppet fell to his knees, while the real one went on.

“You’re a puppet! That’s why… that’s why Hikari died!” Hishigami pushed all the blame onto the fact that he was a puppet. “If you were human, you could have saved her!”

“Stop! That’s enough!”

The genuine whirled around. I let out a jugged breath. I was only a guest, but I couldn’t watch any longer. His attacks were unjustified.

“Human, puppet… You can’t just pin it all on that! I wasn’t there to witness everything. I only know what I’ve been told. But you’re being too harsh!”

The real one shrank back. He lowered his head and bit his lip. A heavy silence descended. I rushed over to the puppet Hishigami and placed a hand on his shoulder. I recalled how he grieved over the girls’ death.

He deeply mourned the death of Hikari. To chastise him for that was exceedingly cruel.

“…Hishigami-san,” I called.

“I see… Because I’m a puppet,” he murmured, not responding to my voice.

Lifting his face, he gazed at the female puppet and smiled a loving smile. Then, he looked at the hand of the dead buried in the sand, stared at the real bone.

“In that case, it should be fine.”

He took something out of his pocket. Pressing it against his temple, he pulled the trigger without hesitation. There was a deafening blast, and his body tilted to the side. Something warm splashed onto my face.

The scent of iron filled my nose, and I touched my cheek. There was a sticky sensation on my fingers.

He crashed onto the floor. In his hand was a different gun from before. Brain matter was scattered on the floor, and through the hole in his skull, I glimpsed the insides. As the blood touched my skin, the baby in my womb moved its mouth. The scenery changed, from one of flames and sand to one of sweet tenderness.

Before me lay a summer garden, bathed in radiant light and adorned with lush green grass. Two children were playing. Sitting in chairs, they were engrossed in lively conversation. It was the cherished memory of the dead, a treasure he had held close to his heart.

The light of summer. A grassy park. Two children playing with puppets. Silly dreams. Pinky fingers intertwined. White garden chairs. A girl and a boy, giggling.

Hishigami, with a hole in his head, was still alive, and his emotions touched my mind directly. From the precipice of death, he watched a scene from his memories, beautiful and everlasting.

In his final moments, he whispered, “Ah, I remember now why I chose this path. I just wanted to keep showing you beautiful things.” He smiled thinly.

Then, reality returned.

The summer garden vanished, and I found myself in a dark room. Blood had seeped into the sand, congealing into a red lump. Blood and brain matter spilled from his head.

Touching the substance that landed on my face, I let my mind work. The brain was an organ. He was supposed to be a puppet, yet he was made of flesh. His insides were human.

Then, what about the other one?

Before me was another Hishigami Akira in a state of stupor. He staggered forward several steps and fell to his knees. Blood soaked into his jeans. He touched the head of the dead Hishigami with a childlike gesture. Then, he dug fingers into the wound, checking the temperature of the blood several times, before peering into the insides.

“What do I do now?” he muttered blankly.

There was no answer. The question dissipated into the air, vanishing without a trace. Large tears showered the face of the dead man like raindrops. The puppet shed tears; they were probably refined from the water it had consumed.

The puppet Hishigami Akira clung to the real Hishigami Akira. He caressed the wound and touched his still-soft cheek.

Crying like a child, he repeated the same question, “What do I do now?!”

The dead didn’t answer. He was smiling serenely.

Leaving everything to his other self.