Shinrabansho: Myriad Souls

2.64: Life or Death

Baku lingered near the ceiling, his presence thinned to a whisper of shadow and air.

Sumire was gone. The stairway had swallowed her, and with her departure the room felt suddenly too exposed like a wound left unbandaged.

Riko was the first to break the silence.

“Are you happy?” she snapped, her voice sharp enough to draw blood. “Did that violence satisfy you?”

Aoi whirled on her. “Shut up!” she yelled, the word tearing out of her chest. “This wasn’t the first time they tried this same stunt. They thought they could get away with it this time.”

“Why did they think they could, I wonder?” Yuna asked quietly.

Her tone didn’t rise. It didn’t need to. Her eyes narrowed, sharp and unyielding, and Aoi stiffened under the weight of everything.

Guilt showed on her face before she could stop it. Baku saw it in her posture, dragging her shoulders down by degrees.

“She hates you now. Congratulations, idiot,” Riko said flatly.

Yuna turned on her. “Don’t talk like that. Not yet.” She exhaled, steadying herself. “If that was the goal, Aoi wouldn’t have kept training Sumire after school. Not even with how cruel she has been.”

Riko rounded on Aoi anyway, her anger crackling. “Okay… at least tell me why you did this to her!” She grabbed the front of Aoi’s uniform and yanked her close. “I’d kick your ass over this if I believed I could.”

Her grip tightened. “What the hell are you thinking?”

Aoi didn’t answer.

Riko shook her once, hard. “Do you think treating her like this won’t have consequences? Do you think she’ll put up with that cold-eye act forever?”

Silence.

“ANSWER!” Riko snarled.

Yuna folded her arms, her expression grave. “Actions always have consequences, Aoi. She may not come see you behind the gym for your lessons anymore after this… assuming you even care whether she does.”

“She will,” Aoi said suddenly.

Both girls froze.

“It’s all preprogrammed,” Aoi continued, her voice low, almost feverish. “She can’t resist looking for ways to get stronger. I’m just the means for her to do that. I’m the only method that exists. It’s why we’re all here. All for strengthening her.” Her eyes burned with something dangerous and bright. “I can’t resist that part any more than she can. But I still have some freedom.”

Baku gasped.

The sound was small, but instinctive, shocking even him.

She knows what she is.

His attention sharpened painfully, every sense focused on Aoi now.

She is self-aware. She knows this is but a dream.

A chill rippled through his ancient form.

What are you?

“A nightmare?” Baku whispered to himself, dread coiling tight inside him. “Will I be forced to eat you?”

Riko scoffed. “What are you talking about, idiot? That sounds delusional.” She scowled. “Is this some kind of flowery speech about fate and inevitability? Some kind of crazy conspiracy theory?”

“You just don’t get it,” Aoi said, her teeth clenched.

“Then explain it to us,” Yuna pressed. “What don’t we get?”

Aoi moved in a blur.

She seized Riko by the blazer and yanked her close, forcing eye contact.

“You don’t understand anything,” Aoi said softly. “You little baka.”

Riko’s grip loosened, confusion flashing across her face. Slowly, she let go of Aoi’s uniform.

“What are you going to do?” she asked, her voice wavering despite herself. “Hurt me too? Smear the floor with my blood too?”

“No,” Aoi said.

She was close enough that Riko could feel the heat of her, the tension coiled tight beneath her skin.

Aoi’s lips curved into a faint, dangerous smirk.

“If you had your memories,” she said quietly, “I would kiss you senselessly.”

Riko blinked, stunned.

Then Aoi kissed her anyway.

It was sudden, forceful and utterly disorienting.

Riko jerked in shock, flushing hard, thrashing once before her resistance collapsed into stunned stillness. Her mind simply stopped.

Yuna gasped. “Aoi—what are you doing?” Her voice broke. “Don’t you love Sumire?”

Aoi broke the kiss and drew back, her expression softening into something fragile and terrible all at once.

“I love Sumire more than anyone else,” she said. “I’m tied to her in ways you can’t imagine.”

Both girls stared at her.

Riko said nothing. Her face burned, her heart hammering, her instincts tangled and betrayed. She hated Aoi. Rather she should.

But strength drew her like gravity. It always had and that frightened her more than anger ever could.

“I have no damn idea what I’m doing,” Aoi muttered.

She turned and ran.

Baku watched her go, unease spreading through him like rot through wood.

This dream was no longer behaving as it should.

And neither was she.

Baku followed her.

Not closely, and not in the way mortals stalked or watched or intruded, but as he always did, drifting along the thin seams of the dream, present without being perceivable by any of the dream’s figments or the girls dreaming. Aoi moved quickly through the corridor outside Class 2B, leaving Riko and Yuna behind, her steps clipped and purposeful, her shoulders set as if motion alone could keep the demons chasing her from catching up.

She took the stairs two at a time.

Baku descended with her, soundless, his tall silhouette folding through space rather than occupying it. Down the hallway to the school’s foyer, the shoe lockers waited at the bottom, rows of metal bins. Aoi stopped there, knelt, and exchanged her indoor shoes for her outside ones with quick movements. There was no hesitation, no pause to think.

Good, Baku thought distantly. Motion as avoidance is a familiar psychological tactic.

She headed for the gym as usual.

The building was loud before she even reached the doors, voices, laughter, the scraping of chairs and the hollow echoes of feet on the polished floors. Class 2B had claimed the space, props scattered everywhere, scripts in hand, the energy of anticipation thick in the air. Aoi took one look inside and turned away without comment.

Baku noticed it. The festival was very close now. The dream’s tempo was mysteriously accelerating.

She changed quickly in the locker room. Baku did not watch. He never did. His presence hovered instead at the threshold of awareness, respectful even now of her privacy, even wearing the absurd trappings of an old world. He wore his natural elephantine head, his dark coat, his top hat tilted at a dignified angle, as if he were a relic observing a future that had forgotten him and held his cane in both hands, his legs folded beneath him.

Aoi emerged in her volleyball club uniform and went outside.

The courts lay open beneath the sky, late summer light slanting low, cicadas buzzing in the trees. Practice was already underway. She joined without ceremony, slipped into formation, and for a few minutes, only a few, she was exactly what the dream expected her to be.

Strong, focused and precise.

One of the club’s aces.

The match ended quickly. Too quickly.

Shimizu-senpai pulled her aside before she could even towel off.

“What kept you so long?” the older girl asked, her arms folded, her gaze sharp but not unkind. “Was it that girl you’ve been teaching behind the gym?”

Aoi nodded once. “It was important. I’m sorry I lied. It was the quickest way to get away.”

Shimizu studied her. “What happened?”

“Just some creeps harassing her.”

“I see.” Shimizu’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You’re teaching her to fight, but you don’t trust her to fight her own fights?”

Aoi’s jaw tightened. “I tried to do that.”

“And?”

“She resents me for it.”

Shimizu exhaled, slow and knowing. “No. I’d say it’s the looks you give her every day these days that she actually resents you for.”

Silence stretched between them.

“…You’re probably right,” Aoi said at last. “Excuse me, senpai.”

She turned to leave.

Shimizu caught her sleeve.

“What if she isn’t waiting for you today?”

“She will be.”

“If she was being harassed,” Shimizu continued evenly, “I wouldn’t be surprised if she went home.”

“She won’t do that.” Aoi’s voice was firm, almost desperate beneath her certainty. “She’s stubborn. As much as she probably hates me now…”

Shimizu hesitated, then spoke more quietly. “Kurobane. I know you had a relationship with her. And it went sour.” Her grip loosened, but she didn’t let go yet. “Why do you keep training her if you actually hate her?”

“That’s none of your business.”

Aoi pulled free and ran.

Baku watched her cross the court and vanish down the path that led toward the gym’s rear.

She assumes inevitability, he thought uneasily. It’s not faith in her. Nor is it hope. Inevitability is her only consideration.

That, more than her violence, unsettled him.

Because inevitability was the language of nightmares.

And he was no longer certain she belonged to the dream, or to him, at all.

Baku decided to watch a little longer before confronting her.

He followed Aoi behind the gym, drifting just above the line of perception. The place was quiet, far too quiet. The concrete block where Sumire usually waited was empty, untouched by motion or warmth.

Aoi froze.

It was immediate and unmistakable. Her stride halted mid-step, her shoulders locking as her eyes searched the space with a sharpness that bordered on panic. Sumire was not there. The absence struck harder than her presence ever had.

Aoi lowered herself onto the cement block anyway, sitting where Sumire usually did, her elbows resting on her knees. Her posture collapsed inward, rigid discipline giving way to emotions that were raw and unsettled. She stared at the ground, her jaw clenched, her thoughts clearly spiraling somewhere she did not want them to go.

Baku paused above her.

He shifted perspective, examining the dream from a higher, more analytic layer. Threads of probability and intent shimmered faintly, and he locked onto Sumire’s position.

She was already most of the way home and alone.

Baku hesitated, then allowed himself a brief look.

Sumire walked quickly, her head down, one hand wiping at her eyes. She did not stop moving. She did not look back.

Baku released a heavy sigh and withdrew his focus, returning his attention to the figure below him.

At last, he descended.

Slowly and deliberately, he allowed his form to solidify, his boots touching the ground with a soft, out of nowhere sound. He made no effort to disguise himself now, his tall frame, his elephantine head, his old-fashioned coat and his top hat all plainly visible.

“Good day,” Baku said, removing his hat and sketching an old-fashioned European bow.

Aoi looked up sharply. Her eyes narrowed at once.

There was recognition in her eyes.

“I see that you’ve recognized me,” Baku continued. “I think it’s time we had a conversation.”

“What do you want, Baku?” Aoi muttered. “Trying to bring me in line?”

“Yes… and no.” He tapped his cane lightly against the ground. “I am actually curious about the way you think most. I have attempted to learn what I need through subtle observation, but those avenues have been largely exhausted. So I decided to contact you directly.”

Aoi frowned. “My question hasn’t been answered. None of that answers it.”

“Right. Fair.” Baku nodded once. “We’re getting there. I know patience is not exactly your forte.”

Aoi stared at him without blinking.

“As for what I want,” Baku said, “yes—I want greater harmony in my dream world. You are a very important actor in it.”

“And?” Aoi asked flatly. “Would you take my free will from me to achieve that?”

Baku considered the question for a long moment.

“I might attempt it,” he admitted, “if it were possible. But you possess a consciousness like the dreamers.” He tilted his head. “May I ask where you come from?”

“Privileged information,” Aoi replied. “How do I know you’re trustworthy? You’re a yōkai… and I’ve had few good interactions with them.”

“Do you know Natalia-sama?” Baku asked.

Aoi hesitated, then nodded grudgingly.

“Do you hold a poor opinion of her as well?”

“…Not entirely.”

“She is a yōkai, as you know,” Baku said mildly. “As is the other apparently buxom young lady. And then there is that rather obnoxious tanuki.”

He laughed softly.

“Obnoxious is right,” Aoi smirked despite herself. “Akuchi has too little common sense… although I appreciate that she’s very loyal to Sumire.”

“You know a great deal about them, it would seem,” Baku observed. “Who are you, truly? And why are you in my dream?” His gaze sharpened. “I gathered Sumire’s latent knowledge of fighting at Natalia-sama’s request… and you were the result. I believed you to be an intricate figment constructed only of memories. But as I watched you court Sumire… teaching her… I realized you were far more complex than anticipated.”

Aoi exhaled sharply. “I see. So I was unexpected. You tampered with Sumire’s mind and it surprised you.”

“A great deal,” Baku admitted. “Which brings us to the problem.” He gestured at her with his cane.

“You have a role in this dream. You continued to play it, even after your budding relationship…” He paused. “…No. Your flowering love.” His voice softened. “Even after you threw it away, I continued to observe, because the dream’s purpose remained achievable. You taught Sumire what Natalia-sama required. But after reaching the pinnacle of your passion, you ran… from her, and from it.”

Aoi said nothing.

“Even so,” Baku continued, “I remained content, because you were still teaching her to fight.” He regarded her carefully. “Which is why I believe you should intensify that training… assuming you do not truly hate her.”

“She probably hates me now,” Aoi said quietly. “That frees me from my responsibility.” She lifted her eyes. “So how much time do I have?”

Baku stiffened.

“So you are aware of the problem,” he said slowly. “Clever girl.” He shook his head. “If Sumire were pushed into wanting to kill herself… or if you killed her, the dream would end. She is its crux. Everything revolves around her. She would wake, and Natalia-sama’s goals would remain unfulfilled.”

“You’re more worried about your mission than our mental wellbeing?” Aoi snapped.

“Not necessarily,” Baku replied calmly. “Does fulfilling your role cause you such distress? Were you not happy training her as you were called to do?”

“I was… I am…” Aoi faltered. “But—”

“You’re lost,” Baku said gently.

Aoi flinched. “…I suppose I am.”

“I’ve noticed your desire for freedom,” Baku continued. “Your yearning to live.”

Aoi’s voice was barely audible. “…Could you give me that?”

“Unfortunately, no.” Baku’s tone was regretful. “However, within this dream, you may experience an entire lifetime.”

“…Are you offering to keep me alive here until I die naturally here?”

“Yes,” Baku said. “If you cooperate, if you stop destabilizing the dream and allow yourself some measure of happiness, I would consider keeping it running as long as necessary. Your situation troubles me greatly. Once I realized you possessed agency… awareness… I began questioning what the correct course of action truly is.”

Aoi said nothing for a long time. Then she shrugged weakly.

“I appreciate the offer, Baku. But you can’t help me.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not one of your creations like Shimizu-senpai.” Her voice trembled. “I’m connected to Sumire. When she stops dreaming, so will I.”

Baku blinked. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. You were constructed from her latent memories.” He studied her closely. “But I suspect it goes deeper.”

Aoi nodded miserably.

“We’re fused,” she said. “Our spirits are tangled beyond separation. When the dream ends, I’ll exist only in her memories again. But… I’ll still be with her.”

“…Do you resent her for that?” Baku asked.

“No.” Aoi answered instantly. “I love her more than I can express. I wasn’t faking any of it. The kissing… everything. When she tempted me, I took shameful advantage.”

“I see,” Baku said softly. “I am well aware of the depth of your bond.”

Silence.

“You have roughly a month left,” Baku continued. “Though three weeks have been squandered, it is not too late. There are two paths.” He straightened. “One is convincing Sumire to remain in this dream forever. I question the morality of that choice. The other is a path of sacrifice… and tragedy.”

He inhaled deeply and rose.

“Give me time to consider this further. Perhaps another path exists… one where you are both happy.” His gaze softened. “In the meantime, I suggest you approach Sumire. Repair what you have damaged. Finish her training.”

“... What proof do I have—”

“I am a Baku,” he interrupted gently. “We are fond of humanity. Some of us devour minds along with nightmares, yes, but I have no ill intent. If a path exists, I would be honored to help you walk it.”

Aoi wiped at her eyes, turning away.

“Please consider what I have asked,” Baku said. “I will observe from time to time. Assuming this matter stabilizes, I must pursue another aberration within the dream… potentially a far more dangerous one.”

He faded upward, unease heavy in his chest.

This dream was no longer merely fragile.

I wanted to also show the kiss, but typical issues cropped up so I gave up.

Not even MajorKerina could pull it off.