/jp/ - Otaku Culture

>>45680334
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"I wasn't expecting to see your face so soon." Her voice grates on my ears and, tall and mighty, I give my back to Hana and face Yukari. The minutiae of her expressions are beyond me, but a calm rage predominates, a mirror to mine. The Gohei, stored before I took Hana in arms, burns against my skin—the sight of that sickening statue itching around my bones like a tiny yet legion of ants crawling inside—, whispering, tempting, this woman's sins boiling inside my mind. To attack would be easy; to let the rage out even more…

… To play her game, it'd be immensely easy.

I breathe in and out, placid yet stoic in my bottomless rage. Yukari narrows her eyes ever so slightly. "Your shikigami saw it every day, repassed all onto you… Don't pretend you're not a sicko that likes stalking others." I maintain my voice leveled with a note of disgust; coming here could put Ran on the hook, as she is one of my closest friends—this should at least take any suspicion out of her.

Yukari smirks, but there's nothing substantial there. Just another facade.

Behind, Hana mutters something, eyes on my back akin to electrocution; shivers of anxiety aplenty. "Hm… Your timing is impeccable. Okina enjoyed the show?" I don't answer, glancing again at the statue of gold, eyes sharp as razors. "Oh? Did you like it? It's just a representation—true love. The very thing you were never able to give your daughter." The trap is there, begging me to fall for it…

… The gift close to my chest swells, but I suppress it. Not now. Soon. Yukari’s face tenses, her trap futile: "That's your representation of love?" Frowning, I look directly into her eyes. "… You have never felt love, have you, Yukari?" Just like that, her body freezes. "I was told the things you did to my Hana. To my… ex-husband—" Hana held her breath. "—you raped them, took their freedom away and plated it in gold and marble, because that's all 'love' you know. A lifeless representation of a shining ideal—"

"Who are you to talk?! You know nothing!" She points, cracks appearing on her face for but a moment before, tensely, recomposing herself, iron in those purple eyes. "Pointing these fingers like you understand love in the slightest—what are you if not a rapist?! You tortured your daughter for her entire life! Your husband! I saved them from your claws and am giving them a life they'll thank me for in the coming years!" Sneering, she points her parasol at me. Hana whimpers. "Who are you to talk—"

"A monster." My voice thunders the whole house, bystanders holding their breaths; I try not, but I focus solely on Hana's every sound—is she proud? Is she embarrassed? Happy? Sad?—my body tightens, scalding for battle… If it weren't for hours upon hours sat at that pond, I'd have already thrown myself into caprices and ruination. I remain in front of my only daughter, steel. A wall between her and this devil. Yukari scowls, trying to say something, but I cut her, spite in full display. "You think yourself special because of the things you have done; I heard it all—you gave and gave and now expect return without any, ANY, consequence!" I point my finger, rage used with finesse. "But you're not special, Yukari! I know what I'm saying because, every day I awake and look in the mirror, I see the same things: I see someone who thought themselves special and who could use their powers to take without restrictions because of the good she had done throughout her WHOLE life! That woman that looks back at me in the mirror is a monster—and so are you."

It takes a monster to expose one.

She bares her teeth, composure breaking like glass: despair. "You have no right to condemn my actions…" A smile of scorn paints her face. "Comparing us, taking me down to your level—has your brain turned to mush?" She looks behind me with a fire in her eyes. "Hana-chan, isn't that unfair to me? This… woman and her comparisons—you know Mama did the things she did because she loves you, right? I'm not like her! I'm better for you, for Anon! Only with me, you'll find family, you know that!" The grossly sweet intonation of her voice, the words of utter manipulation, the faux grin…

… Yet, it's unsurprising how many of those were traps, her fatal flaw exposed to the world: she doesn't know how to love, and when the wound is shown, her attempts at it are laughable.

I'll have to repay Aya eventually. "Hana," my voice is soft and, gently, I turn to her. My face is of placidity, not of saccharine lies—instantly her eyes leave Yukari's, and I can feel the Gap Sage rage grow volcanic. "… I made your life hell. Your father's life hell. I prevented you two from making connections; confined you to that shrine. Controlled your life…" I took a deep breath, looking straight into her eyes. "I raped your poor father. I am a true monster, and you're right in hating me." Her eyes are the size of plates. "… Yukari did all that too, didn't she?"

Nothing more is needed. Understanding shines like a bonfire inside her eyes.