Blue Lock Corporation - Chapter 28 - Violet_Flames (2024)

Chapter Text

Blue Lock had no use for an employee who had given up and drowned in sorrows. Chigiri Hyoma’s results had been lacking after what happened to Kunigami Rensuke and then Bachira Meguru. The boy had been underperforming. It had taken a full day for him to recover in the infirmary despite having no wounds save for a nasty bump on the head, scratches from that so-called monster of Bachira Meguru’s, and bruises from where Itoshi Rin had thrown him against the wall. Really, these wounds were minor. He shouldn’t have passed out from them, much less sat in that infirmary bed in shock, unmoving, refusing to clean the blood and bits and pieces of guts from his skin and clothes.

No matter how much one took care of it, when the body broke, it broke. But the mind was different. There were moments when one had to put the final nail in one’s own coffin. Chigiri had given up on even taking care of his physical form anymore. Ego did not know, nor did he care, if the boy would choose to live or die. If he’d make it past the verge of death.

Chigiri would need a reassignment. For some time, Ego had been holding off on sending someone into a certain containment unit, but, he thought, this would do well for energy production.

Barou entered the infirmary and halted in the doorway when he noticed that it wasn’t empty as it should be at this hour. It was common for employees to be sent to the infirmary after work ended - employees who could recover that was - but thanks to the healing technology L Corp had access to it usually didn’t take long to heal any physical wounds. Medicine to heal the body had developed at a tremendous rate in the City though treatments for the mind laid stagnant. The addition of K Corp’s drones had made it so that previously grievous injuries could now be mended in seconds rather than days.

At an hour this late, no one should have been here.

Except, for some reason, Chigiri and Isagi were. Chigiri sat on one of the beds with one knee curled up to his chest, hugged close, and the other leg extended laid out in front of him. He looked awful. His usually brushed hair that he tied back up in a ponytail was hanging loose and a matted mess. Despite having no visible injuries, Chigiri was covered in someone or something’s blood and entrails. He didn’t even look up at the sound of the door sliding open. Only a hollow look remained in those dull pink eyes. Isagi, who was sitting on the other end of the bed, did turn his head towards the source. It didn’t miss Barou’s notice how Isagi tensed at the sound even as Chigiri didn’t move. Barou met those sharp blue eyes and noticed the haunted look in them.

He knew that look. Someone had died.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise. Death was common in this place.

“Why are you here?” Isagi’s voice came out demanding which pissed him off, especially since he couldn’t tell if the smaller boy had meant it to or if it was just the tension in his tone.

“No reason that concerns you.” He scoffed, flushing a bit, because he didn’t need them knowing why he was. “What happened to you?” He frowned at both of them and caught sight of how Chigiri retreated into his shell more. Isagi’s mouth was drawn up in a tight scowl, but he kept quiet.

Who had died? Barou’s gut twisted, bothered at the fact that he was affected by this question. It really shouldn’t concern him. How many people had died at this point? Had died since he’d joined? It was too hard to keep track, nor should he affiliate with those beneath him. If you couldn’t keep up, then you died. That was the truth.

He tried to ignore those two and, even more than that, tried to ignore Niko resting in the corner of the room and that damn decorative cherry blossom comb sitting there untouched placed on the table beside Niko’s bed. He had half a mind to snap it in half and throw it in the garbage, but each time he tried to do so, he found himself unable to bring himself to.

Annoying.

Absent-mindedly, he started cleaning, throwing away old bandages and emptying half-used healing vials that these idiots kept lying around. Didn’t they know how to pick up after themselves? Someone else had left their bloodied socks on the floor. Gross. At least no toes were left inside this time. Once he’d found a whole foot and nearly vomited at the stench.

It was always such a mess in here. For that matter Chigiri’s appearance…Barou couldn’t help but let his gaze drift towards the princess. Chigiri was always so uptight about maintaining his hair and looks even in a place like this. Some of the others could stand to learn a thing or two from him, specifically that lazy white haired slacker, but Chigiri had been almost too obsessive with his care not unlike a certain other fashion obsessed employee here Barou had once known. He tried not to look at that cherry blossom comb though he could feel its stare on him. So why was that stuck-up princess letting himself sit there stinking in someone else’s blood reduced to a tangled mess? It pissed Barou off. If he couldn’t bother with his appearance anymore even, was he giving up on his life? He hadn’t known what had happened when that crying began, when that roulette was called, but it wasn’t hard to piece together from the reactions. Chigiri’s outburst had been all too noticeable. The cries stopping right after had been none too subtle.

A big public execution like that…

It was bound to lead to a domino effect, the house of cards tumbling down. Aryu had the grace to die in silence. Barou still wasn’t quite sure where Tokimitsu was or what had gotten to him. But he was dead, that was for certain. It was near unheard of to ever leave this place once one entered.

“You should clean yourself up. It’s disgusting to sit around like that.”

He’d finished tidying up all he could in this room save for the dripping fleshy mess of red and pink that was Chigiri. It didn’t seem as if those two would leave, nor did they seem interested in engaging with conversation which was fine by him. He had no interest in dealing with them either. It was irritating, though, to see the state Chigiri was in which prompted Barou to shoot a glare in his direction and snap at him. That was all, nothing else.

Chigiri didn’t answer. He didn’t look at him. There was none of that fire from before even if that fire had gotten his ass launched into a wall and nearly ended him up as a smear on the side of Karasu’s huge sword. Isagi’s own flared up with some emotion - anger most likely. He opened his mouth, but Barou just tossed one of the clean towels at his face and narrowed his own eyes in a glare.

This wasn’t his problem. He had no reason to stick around here any longer. He left, ignoring Isagi’s “hey, Barou!” called out behind him and that confused then slow look of realization in the other’s brightening blue eyes. That idiot didn’t need to go mistaking things for what they weren’t. This wasn’t some show of kindness or anything like that. He’d just rather not have to scrape any more body parts off the walls or floors. It’d be a pain in the ass. He had enough pains to deal with.

For instance what that asshole Lorenzo had said. It kept haunting his mind the claim of his that the energy - enkephalin - whatever it was called that the Abnormalities produced wasn’t going to fuel the City as they’d been told. Lobotomy Corporation was supposed to be the City’s main energy supplier making it possible for the WARP Trains to run, for the technology to function, for the City to operate as intended. So what the hell did Lorenzo mean by the pipelines being rusted? Asshole couldn’t even have told him where he’d go about finding the storage area it was supposedly being kept. Not that it mattered to him. A selfless hero like Kunigami might have dug into that, but he was a selfish villain and had no interest in anyone’s life but his own and his family’s. Ego’s puppet games pissed him off, but it was more important he kept himself alive.

Kunigami was, honestly though, the most selfish person here. He’d gone and died and left a whole mess behind whose aftermath he wouldn’t have to witness. Barou hadn’t seen the noisy crow or his entourage for days. Normally he’d be glad for an end to Karasu’s yapping but then it meant he’d be forced to work with Nagi handling those three birds, and he wasn’t sure if dealing with Nagi or the three troublesome Abnormalities was worse. Chigiri and Isagi were clearly not in a good state based on what he’d just seen - not that he cared. He had no clue where Bachira might have run off to but given how delusional the other boy was Barou wouldn’t be surprised if he was throwing himself or others at the Abnormalities.

Hopefully that would be one mess Barou wouldn’t have to clean.

Chigiri’s hand trembled over the scanner to the containment unit he’d been assigned. His ID kept nearly dropping from his hand.

Bachira had died only yesterday. He couldn’t remember what happened after Rin ran into the room, but it wasn’t hard to figure out what the end result was. Not when he’d woken in the infirmary covered in guts and blood that weren’t his own with a horrible aching feeling on his head from where Bachira had knocked him out with the sledgehammer and scratches and claw marks from whatever that monster of Bachira’s had been. Isagi was next to him curled up at the other end of the same bed. Neither of them had spoken. Chigiri wasn’t sure what he’d even say. If there was anything one could say even.

How did Ego expect him to go back to work like his friend hadn’t just tried to kill him before being killed himself? Who had dealt the final blow even? Had Isagi? Had Rin? Or had Bachira thrown himself into the meat grinder? Chigiri’s stomach twisted. That did seem the most likely given he doubted Rin’s sword or Isagi’s mace could turn a human body into what was left of Bachira. It could have been the possession, or, Chigiri feared, it could have been Bachira snapping back into himself and realizing what he’d done. There was no way of finding out though. He couldn’t exactly ask Bachira.

Because Bachira was dead. Kunigami was dead. Himizu had died.

He’d done the same thing to Bachira that he had to Kunigami, hadn’t he? He’d never apologized, no, the last thing he had said that wasn’t screaming to not be killed and begging for someone to save him was snapping at Bachira to take things seriously. Before he realized how wrong the situation was. Isagi, too. He’d done the same exact thing. He hadn’t said anything to him either. Even when Isagi sat there with him. Even when Isagi took care of him. After Barou had entered then left for some weird reason because he didn’t look injured, Isagi had wiped the blood off his skin, carefully, gently, before brushing through his hair with a comb. Even though it hurt, the other boy clearly inexperienced with taking care of longer hair, Chigiri hadn’t said a word or made a sound. He’d just let Isagi run the comb’s teeth through his hair, untangling knots, using his hands at times to navigate the sea of red strands.

He couldn’t just keep standing out here. He had to enter. He needed to enter. He took a deep breath, then pushed the door open, forcing himself inside and facing whatever was waiting for him.

This wasn’t the right unit.

That was the first thought which entered his mind. His eyes widened. He found himself staring at a creature that was most certainly not the one described in the file he’d been given.

The Abnormality he had been assigned to was supposed to resemble a bathtub filled with blood. This one instead was a humanoid being that wore a cloak which covered its full form, a beak shaped mask hiding its face from view, and six huge black feathered wings - three on each side.

He found himself frozen in place. He had gone in the right unit. He was certain of that. So why was this thing staring at him?

“What are you?” He tried to keep his voice steady to hide the tremble in his tone. It co*cked its head to the side, not unlike a bird would, and he tried not to think about how those birdlike features reminded him of whatever Karasu had been transforming into. “You’re not the Abnormality I was assigned to.” He let the accusation creep into his tone. If it was offended, it did not show any visible sign and merely rustled its feathers.

“You’re always running, Chigiri Hyoma. For how long do you believe you will be able to?”

The voice sent a chill through the outer layer of his skin and down to the bones running along his spine. This creature. Whatever it was, he didn’t like this creature. It carried with it a dangerous air. It was impossible to see its eyes, but he could feel its gaze, heavy under that mask, and the familiarity with which it observed him was unnerving. He greatly disliked such a sensation. He hated that he did feel that overwhelming, all consuming urge to flee.

“You didn’t answer my question.” Chigiri snapped. A cold edge seeped into his voice, the one he used to keep others at bay. It had worked in the past. It was supposed to work, though, he remembered, it had done little to deter Kunigami from squeezing through the cracks in the ice.

It almost felt as if this creature were judging and laughing at him. He hated that.

“You may refer to me as Plague Doctor. Do you wish to stay and speak?”

“I’m not supposed to be in here.” Chigiri bit back even though it was the opposite. It wasn’t supposed to be in here. It shouldn’t be in here. Wrong. This was very wrong. He had entered the right unit. He was sure he had entered the right unit. Abnormalities couldn’t just switch units on their own, could they? That or Ego was playing some sick prank. He wouldn’t put it past the bastard.

Whatever it was, Chigiri refused to stick around and find out. He backed up keeping the Plague Doctor in his sights and then, once close enough to the exit, took off before the door slid shut behind him though he couldn’t banish the sound of ticking clocks and ringing bells from his mind - three tolls total.

His leg ached. His throat burned. His eyes felt hot but with sweat or tears he wasn’t certain.

He placed a hand against the wall to steady himself and take in deep breaths. He’d need to return there, wouldn’t he? He just hoped that thing wouldn’t be there waiting when he did.

Otoya couldn’t stop thinking about Kunigami’s death.

You should’ve been chosen to die.

He should have been.

This is your fault, isn’t it?

It was.

He couldn’t rebuke those accusations. If he hadn’t made that damn annoying baby cry, then none of this would have happened. Then again, he’d had no choice, had he? Because it was going to eat him. Had he stayed in there, he’d be dead, grabbed by its tongue, pulled into that cavern of a mouth, devoured like all those corpses he’d fed to it before.

The trembling started, and it wouldn’t cease. He felt as if he would vomit.

He hadn’t really known Kunigami well aside from one conversation they’d had before about their sisters. He forgot what had even prompted it, some offhand comment or other while in the lounge most likely. But what he did remember was what he’d learned about the other boy and his family. Kunigami, too, had two sisters - one older and one younger. He was a middle child just like Otoya though he could’ve fooled him. From his demeanor alone, he seemed more like the oldest of his family. He had this responsible, protective streak that Otoya just couldn’t understand nor would he ever want especially not in a place or world like this one. Instead of blending into the background and slipping into the shadows, Kunigami always shone, his presence unable to be ignored, even when one would rather ignore him and even now when he was no longer around.

Otoya couldn’t say he envied it. But he did think that if someone would be considered more deserving of life, it was probably Kunigami Rensuke.

Chigiri was right. He couldn’t blame the redhead for what he’d said or for how he felt. Kunigami had, most definitely, been a better person than Otoya ever would be. But, then again, it wasn’t the better people who lived, was it?

Otherwise Otoya would have died long ago.

Otoya might not be a good person, but he wouldn’t consider himself half bad when it came to his combat skills. He’d survived this long, after all, and even before coming here had carved out a life for himself on the streets navigating the hell that was the Backstreets with no one but his sisters by his side. The reason he took this job in the first place wasn’t for some lofty ideal like making the world better or fixing the system from the inside or rising in the ranks to be the one sitting at the top of the hill above a mound of corpses. No. He’d just wanted a cozy job so he could finally kick back, relax, and worry more about hitting on cute girls than finding what he was going to eat next.

This place was lacking in the cute girls department, for that matter. The closest things to one were that disembodied female voice over the announcements, Chigiri who definitely now hated Otoya’s guts if he hadn’t before, and the occasional sentient Abnormality that looked human and feminine enough to pass though Otoya didn’t have a death wish to even begin trying to romance one.

He looked over, worried, at Karasu seated on the bed beside him. Karasu was the furthest thing from a cute girl. He was almost always scowling and yelling about something and when he wasn’t he had an obnoxious, smug smirk on his face that pissed Otoya off to no end. He was utterly impossible to deal with. His voice was loud and grated on Otoya’s nerves. His hair was all spiked up like a bird’s nest, and the recent addition of actual feathers did little to help with that image. He never knew when to shut up and felt the need to boss everyone else around. He didn’t give a sh*t about anyone who wasn’t himself - not that Otoya could blame him for that. He was no better. But, unlike him, Karasu was a dumbass that kept throwing himself into situations he had no need sticking his head in or he was going to lose it one of these days.

A single wing had erupted from Karasu’s back and torn his armor apart. Otoya could see the way those black feathers trembled, ruffled, and he did wonder how Karasu was going to spin this one. At this point, though, he was pretty sure everyone here had some idea or other about Karasu’s condition. His talon kept tightly clenching and then unclenching again, currently unbandaged and on full display though he’d returned that gauze to his eyes.

Part of Otoya wished he hadn’t. He wanted to see those sharp eyes of Karasu’s that could almost be described as pretty in a sense.

His hand reached out on impulse and stroked those feathers jutting from the other boy’s back. Karasu almost melted into the touch, relaxing ever so slightly, leaning into Otoya in response. Otoya couldn’t tell if the other’s eyes were closed or open. Still, he risked an attempt at conversation, unsure if he’d get any response or just continued silence.

He’d never wished so much for that annoying crow’s voice.

“You’re aware you have a wing now, right?”

Karasu just made a noise between an annoyed grunt and huff in response. Otoya assumed that was a yes. He supposed it was better that Karasu was making any noise rather than ignoring him after what had happened. Once Yukki and Otoya had dragged Karasu back to their room after the roulette, they’d had to barricade the door and wait on the other side due to Karasu’s talon attempting to rip apart anything and anyone that got too close. It was a damn miracle they’d managed to get him back there without being torn to ribbons. His screeches had only escalated in volume. It was so unlike his usual voice and so similar to the sounds those Abnormalities could make that Otoya couldn’t suppress a shudder.

Something was horribly, horribly wrong with Karasu, but, of course, he wouldn’t take that E.G.O. Equipment off nor could he in his current state.

At least he’d returned to making more human sounds and could sit beside Otoya and even let Otoya touch him without trying to murder him. That was cool. That was progress.

It was fine. It would be fine. Otoya was just going to avoid mentioning the roulette or anything that might set Karasu off though, given this was Karasu, that could be anything and everything. He was a pain in the ass like that.

Otoya so desperately wished the asshole would say something even if it meant dealing with that obnoxious voice.

“Any progress?”

The door creaked open. Yukki slid inside, and Otoya opened his eyes, lazily waving at the other boy before his gaze flickered towards Karasu beside him.

“He’s not screeching anymore.” Otoya shrugged. Yukki just frowned before he let out a sigh and shook his head.

“I guess that’s something.”

He sat himself down on Karasu’s other side. Otoya could see those feathers flare up and bristle for a moment, and his own entire body tensed, worried that he was going to need to intervene if the movement set Karasu off, but, thankfully, Karasu must have either recognized it was Yukki or that bird brain of his decided it wasn’t a threat.

Otoya hoped it was the former.

“Barou.”

Barou wanted to snap at that familiar whiny voice to shut up and leave him alone. How did people keep walking in here so late? Couldn’t they piss off back to their own rooms? He immediately rose to his feet and tried to look as if he hadn’t just been sitting beside Niko’s bedside. His eyes narrowed into a glare directed on the one who had interrupted him and was standing in the doorway to the infirmary looking bored and almost lost.

Nagi was slouched over, as always. His posture, like most other things about him, was terrible. But, aside from that, Barou noticed that he was alone.

“Why aren’t you with your owner?” Barou crossed his arms and glared down at him. Nagi was quiet for a moment, and his gaze darted away, almost as if he were ashamed to face Barou’s own.

“I dunno how to deal with Reo when he gets like this.”

“Like what?” Barou snapped. He couldn’t keep the annoyance from his tone. Because he knew all too well what Nagi was referring to. It wasn’t hard to infer. He’d seen how Reo had taken the news of the roulette and Kunigami being chosen. Reo might be sheltered, but he wasn’t stupid. His constant appeals to the rest of them had been a clear attempt at begging for someone to shatter the illusion and stare truth in the face stating it aloud for the rest of them to hear. Barou hated to admit he’d been in the dark at first when the roulette had been spun. All he’d known was that whatever it was, it could spell nothing good for whoever won. Of course Ego’s supposed lottery dripped with treachery and trickery - Ego was the last person to give more than he took. Shidou, as annoying as he was, and as much as Barou wished he’d crawl into a hole and die like the roach he was, had been right about one thing and that was that they’d needed to stop dancing around the truth.

Nagi just frowned. He was quiet though Barou would hardly call him contemplative. He doubted the dumbass ever contemplated anything that wasn’t sleep.

Nagi was an idiot. Reo was a mess. Reo was grieving and upset at Kunigami’s death, and Nagi, being the emotionless husk he was, a black void of a person, was here complaining to Barou about it like Barou gave a sh*t about either of them.

Well, he didn’t. He didn’t know how Nagi had tracked him down or how he’d known to look here, but he had no interest in playing mediator for his relationship troubles.

Did Nagi even care that someone had died? It was impossible to tell, and Barou was inclined to think he didn’t. If it were Reo, Barou was sure he’d have some reaction that would be a pain for the rest of them to handle. But would Nagi be sad even about that? Barou doubted it. He doubted Nagi had any emotions for that matter. He let out a scoff, fixing Nagi in a glare.

“You wouldn’t care if anyone here died, huh?”

His eyes widened when a blast of blue light shot right towards him. If he hadn’t moved in time, jerking sideways, it would have gone right through his head, and he practically threw his body over Niko’s unconscious form, his composure rattled for a moment by the sudden assault.

“Don’t accuse me of not caring about Reo.”

Nagi stood there, hand outstretched, that cursed sphere floating above him from which the beam had been fired. In the rings of his eyes, a bright blue alien light gleamed. His voice sounded like always. Passive. Uncaring. But an edge had crept into the tone. That light flared brilliant and blue.

“Eh!? That’s not what I said, dumbass!” Barou whirled on the other. His hand curled into a fist, face heating up in annoyance from his moment of weakness, and eye twitching at the other’s outburst. “And don’t start a fight in the infirmary!” Of all the places he could have chosen to throw a fit, he’d chosen here. Idiot. Nagi just let out a non committal noise, and Barou’s eye twitched again, wishing he could wrangle the other’s throat until he stopped making messes wherever he went.

“If you care so much about Reo, then go find him and stop bothering me.” Barou gritted out. Nagi, thankfully, turned around.

“If you died, I might shed a tear for you, king.”

He didn’t even bother to look back, but Barou caught that mumble. Barou just let out a huff in annoyance, glaring hate into Nagi’s retreating form.

“Save it because you’ll die long before I do, and I’m not going to be at all torn up when you do kick the bucket, got it?”

Chigiri was relieved to find that, this time, the correct Abnormality was in the containment unit he’d been assigned. After the run-in with the one calling itself the Plague Doctor, he’d retreated to his now empty dorm, curling in on himself. Given that he wasn’t a puddle of melted flesh on the floor reduced to a green slop then that must have meant Ego was satisfied with his assignment.

For that day. He knew that he had no choice but to enter the room again when the next work shift began. So, he now found himself in the same containment unit once more. This time, the Plague Doctor was nowhere in sight, and a skin covered bathtub sat at the other end of the room. It sported a pair of closed eyes. Instead of a shower head, a large pale hand dripped a steady stream of blood. As for the tub itself, it was full of blood, filled to the brim but somehow never overflowing, kept in a state of equilibrium. A gloomy disgusting color. He could see three pale hands floating to the surface. It looked as if they were outstretched and reaching for help, for aid, though he knew better than to assume it was anything other than a lure meant to pull one in.

Chigiri’s leg ached when he looked at Bloodbath. He could see upcoming hardship and many ordeals in the future and in store for him. No matter what he did, it would only result in failure.

Of that, he was certain.

Kunigami, the only light in this place, had been snuffed out. Bachira was gone. He might have been careless and annoying at times and much too sympathetic towards the Abnormalities, but everything felt so much quieter, so much dimmer, with him gone. Isagi and Reo would soon be, too, Chigiri was sure. He knew that people like Nagi or Barou didn’t care for him and that he shouldn’t delude himself into thinking friendships were possible. Not that he blamed them. If he’d been better about keeping his heart guarded, he wouldn’t be in this situation, he would have been able to continue his work without caring what became of others.

His hands were covered in blood. It was a blood he couldn’t scrub from his skin, no matter how hard he tried. This blood only reminded him of that fact. He hadn’t been able to stand the Wanima Brothers and their unproductive hierarchy back where he’d come from. There weren’t many options for one like him who lived in District 21’s Backstreets, and Chigiri had never been interested in setting sail out on the Great Lake. The thought of drowning had always made him queasy. And he knew that, out on the Great Lake, there were fates worse than death. He could be swallowed by one of the Whales absorbed by one of those monsters and degraded until there was nothing left of him. He could be cleaved between two ships merging into one and erased from existence as if he’d never been there to begin with. He could be caught breaking the “Laws” of the Lake of which there were too many to know and too ever-changing to remember, and he’d be swept up in the “Waves.”

No. He had to stay on land. There was no other choice. And, on land, there were other certain laws to be followed. The power of the Syndicates had only grown in recent times, and even if he wished to remain independent and free from loyalties, he had no such choice if he didn’t want his decomposing corpse to end up tossed to rot in one of the shipping containers. He’d sucked it up and joined with the Twinhook Pirates, the prominent criminal organization there, where he found himself under the command of the Wanima Brothers. Both of them were so full of themselves. He was faster, stronger, better than them. He could move faster than either of them could ever dream of being able to. He was smarter than both their two heads combined. But their damn hierarchy and backing from The Middle made it so that he’d no choice but to obey their bossy orders and endure their chatter.

Fine. He could obey, but he’d be as difficult as possible. He refused to bend over and grovel to them like the other grunts. He refused to be polite with them. So long as he did what he was told, they had no right to complain. He delivered results and that was what mattered in this business, wasn’t it?

“If you keep acting up, you’ll discredit yourself! Respect your seniors! You’re only good for being fast and catching merchandise that can’t outrun you, Chigiri. That’s what my big brother says.” It didn’t bother him what either of them said. He simply reminded them that he was the one bringing in results and raking in the profits. Chigiri was truly a horrible person, wasn’t he? Kunigami had been someone aiming to be a Fixer - the very heroes who protected innocents from villains like Chigiri had been. It was funny, wasn’t it? If not for Blue Lock, it was likely they’d have met on the field as enemies if Kunigami ever got dispatched to District 21. Kunigami would have looked upon Chigiri with hatred if he’d met him there. Chigiri was sure of that.

Chigiri hadn’t even been man enough to stick around and bear witness to the results of his work. He delivered the goods he caught and then he let the Wanima Brothers handle it from there. He wouldn’t pretend that he didn’t know what became of those captured. It wasn’t hard to smell the stench of blood mixed with saltwater and seafood from those supposedly empty shipping containers all lined up in the shipyard.

If he didn’t look, he could keep deluding himself though that his hands were clean. He’d been running even then.

“Do you want to see the results of your hard work, prodigy ~ ?”

Chigiri wasn’t a selfless person. Chigiri wasn’t a hero. Chigiri wasn’t someone who cared for anyone’s life but his own.

He still didn’t know, to this day, why he’d done that. He’d damned so many strangers before, what was one more on the chopping block? It shouldn’t make a difference seeing what happened when, all along, he’d known what had been happening, but, still, his body had moved, his leg had come down on the younger Wanima Brother’s head and the intent to kill flared up. Fed up with this sorry state he’d been reduced to. Fed up with being used as their tool, a hollowed out shell of a human. Fed up with their constant orders, demands, taunts.

There was a sound as if hard rubber snapped and then an intense pain and discomfort in his knee. He was thrown to the ground, the older Wanima Brother on top of him, pinning him down, reaching for that hooked scythe at his side. Also splayed out on the ground, not far from where his head was, the younger Wanima Brother began to laugh though he couldn’t hide the anger in his words. Good. Chigiri hoped he’d hurt him.

“If your talent’s ruined, and you can’t run anymore, do you still have any value left!?”

The older one smiled down at him with that horrible grin. To this day, Chigiri wasn’t sure how he managed to slip out from under his hold, how he’d managed to run, how he’d managed to force his leg to move even as it screamed in pain and threatened to snap and bring him down with it. He remembered the shouts that carried on the seawind chasing after him. “You attacked us! You can’t just run away without punishment for that! Don’t forget, too, that you’re indebted to us! If you don’t get back here right now, we’ll go to the Middle about what you’ve done! They won’t forget, they’ll never forget, and that broken leg of yours won’t get you far! You can run, keep running, but it’ll catch up to you!”

His dejection concentrated into a single point. In these walls deep underground, there existed no hope for him. He had thought, maybe, there had been something with Kunigami. He’d allowed himself to gamble on that chance and to believe Kunigami’s words about protecting him. He’d let that hero sweep him off his feet with those promises and foolishly allowed himself to play the role of the princess protected by the hero instead of the no-name cutthroat killer that he truly was. But Kunigami was dead. Bachira was proof that anyone you allowed yourself to get close with could, at any time, turn on and try to kill you even if not of their own free will. Why had he thought there was any new start to be found in this place? Why had he allowed himself to be taken in with their smiles? Outside this place, there was nowhere he could go. He’d be hunted down if he even had the money to find somewhere safe - if such a place existed.

He’d spend his whole life running no matter where he was.

Those eyes on the bathtub opened wide, the flesh parting to reveal pupils and the whites of the eyes. From beneath the surface of blood, those pale arms rose, growing in length. Hands extended towards him and reached to pull him down into the depths.

Even at the end, he tried to run.

His ID scanned against the door, the exit, his only chance out of here, but it flashed red. He could feel a cold clammy hand clamp around the ankle of his bad leg. It yanked him backwards, and he fumbled for anything to hold onto, to steady himself with, but the second hand grabbed his hand interlocking their fingers. He’d only ever held Kunigami’s hand before like this. His mouth opened to scream, and the third and final hand shoved itself into his mouth, the arms dragging him inside, plunging him into the blood filled tub.

Having lived on the Great Lake, Chigiri always expected to die by drowning but never a fate like this. His hair came undone and drifted around him, blood filling his lungs, entering through his eyes, and he choked on the uncomfortably warm sticky liquid still trying to writhe out of the hands’ hold even as his strength began to fail him. Its grip was iron tight. An anchor pulling him down.

A pair of arms threw itself around his shoulders and embraced him. It was a warm embrace, not unlike that of the sun, and he tried to turn his head. He was greeted with the sight of a woman’s face, her eyes closed, a smile playing on her lips. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail held in place by a red bear pin. It occurred to him then that he wasn’t alone. The space around him grew hot and heavy, crowded with hundreds of tangled limbs, humanoid forms, and smiling faces. Each body belonged to that of a young woman whose neck-length brown hair was tied with two braids on either side. It was suffocating. He couldn’t tell how many of her there were in this space, but he couldn’t escape from their hold. He kicked his legs, but the feeling in them had grown numb and, with each moment, his legs felt less and less like they belonged to him - like they were even there anymore. He couldn’t swim to the surface, the top of the bathtub growing ever farther and farther from him.

His entire body dissolved into blood save for two pale hands left to float to the surface of the bathtub.

Plague Doctor (O-01-45)

Plague Doctor is a humanoid creature that wears a round top hat, a plague doctor mask, and a long black cloak around its body. Its arms are replaced with three sets of black wings that extend down its sides. At this time, little is known about it, but it has shown no desire to escape, and it is amicable to employees.

Addendum: Plague Doctor has been shown to be capable of switching containment units. Keep an eye on this.

Bloodbath (T-05-51)

Bloodbath is a skin-covered bathtub Abnormality. It sports a large pair of eyes which will only open when attacking an employee. Its shower head is replaced by a large hand, dripping blood constantly. The bathtub is filled with blood at a constant level that never overflows. Pale hands appear on the surface, and will stretch when grabbing an employee.

If an employee is deprived of all reason and hope to live, they won’t resist the hands that reach out to them. Upon completing their work process, a hand will stretch out of Bloodbath and drag the employee into its depths. The energy production has been observed to increase the greater the number of hands in Bloodbath. When Bloodbath has three hands, the safety of the next worker cannot be guaranteed, however, the energy output will be massive.

[RESTRICTED ACCESS: MANAGER LEVEL]

The discarded AI advisors' faulty forms have been tossed into Bloodbath’s depths.

E.G.O. Equipment: Sound of a Star

The star shines brighter as our despair gathers. The weapon's small, evocative sphere fires a warm ray. In the light, everything is equal.

Nagi Seishiro was granted both the E.G.O. Weapon and E.G.O. Suit named Sound of a Star. The weapon is a silver orb decorated with a black heart that glows with a bright blue outline. This orb hovers behind the user and can fire lasers into whatever the user points it at. Nagi Seishiro has a habit of kicking these orbs into his targets. The suit is a gray coat that shines silver, and the only decoration of note is the black heart in the chest with a glowing blue outline. The Abnormality it comes from is [REDACTED]. Nagi Seishiro should be carefully monitored for any physical or psychological change.

Addendum: Nagi Seishiro’s eyes occasionally begin to glow with a blue outline the same color as Sound of a Star when his emotions are riled.