Underneath the Red Trees

CHAPTER 44: ONE WISH

*TRIGGER WARNING: MENTION OF ABUSE, SELF-HARM AND SUICIDE*

Mitsu felt free for the first time since her death when she finally managed to escape Naozumi.

The flat had only one room. Bottles and cigarette buds littered the floor. The TV was blaring some or other gawdy action movie. A man was asleep on the sofa bed. His shirt rode up, exposing his bloated belly. He was snoring.

Mitsu sneered at the sound.

She had once found solace in that sound. It had meant she was safe from his drunken aggression. Even if only for a moment.

But no more.

Since her liberation from the Red Room, Mitsu had come to the realisation that the so-called wish granting power of the Face Eater was not as it appeared. The Face Eater was not a wish-granting genie like in the movies. He was the devil, come offering your greatest desire in exchange for your soul.

Overall, Breaks had one of two wishes. They either wished for revenge, or they wished for their lives back. Mitsu was the former.

Her wish had already been granted. Or it would be.

Now that she was a Break, she had the power to exact vengeance all. With her own hands. No mystical force necessary.

He snored himself awake. He groaned as he sat up. His eyes were glued shut. He felt around for a beer bottles. It was only half full. He drank the rest.

When he finally peeled his eyelids open he startled. Mitsu was only a shadow. The light from the TV did not illuminate her face. "Who'ssss there?" he slurred.

Mitsu stepped forward, into the light.

His eyes widened. "Mitsssuh?"

"Hi, Dad."

He threw the empty beer bottle at her. It narrowly missed her, and shattered against the wall behind her. "Where the fuuuck have you been?" he jeered.

"I died." Mitsu's stature was indifferent.

"Bullsssshit!"

Mitsu kept her composure, but inside of her she felt it. The hate... the revulsion... the resentment... but the fear was gone now. She was no longer powerless.

He was the reason she had turned into this... this thing. He had made her a monster. He was to blame. All his cruelty and his penchant for violence and his gibes and jeers and the disparaging remarks that had sent her over the edge every single time. And when he found her there, scared stiff of the final cut, he called her a coward. He made her feel worthless. He made her wish she had never been born... wish she was dead.

And in the end, he had made her a Break. If he had not been in her life, she could have said no to Sachiko. She could still be alive. She might even have been able to smile. To feel that which others called happiness.

But that could never be the reality. Not anymore.

In the end she came out of this with a final cognisance: He was not her father. He was her abuser.

Tachibana's stomach twisted. The man might have been in his late thirties. He was strung up on the wall of his one room flat. His orifices had been stuffed with cigarette buds. There was a broken bottle by the edge of the room. One of its shards had been stuffed in the fat of his belly. The skin had been carved with the words 'REAL MONSTER'.

This man was the father of Mitsu Masuda, the girl who had vanished after the explosion at the auditorium. This girl was the only one whose corpse had been unaccounted for.

ERIS had covered the birth of the Break with a story of a gas leak. They always did, it was the best cover story.

It looked as if he had abused her. From eyewitness accounts from friends and neighbours Tachibana could assume as much.

Humans that became Breaks were people who suffered greatly, meaning they had been abused, and usually there were multiple forms of abuse involved. Tormentors almost always got what they deserved.

And yet, after three years of being an ERIS agent, Tachibana still couldn't handle seeing an abuser's retribution.

"Today's the day, huh?" Hayate asked.

Masaki nodded. The nervousness was getting to him. He paced up and down, fully aware that Hayate was watching his every step, not that it mattered.

Masaki had called Ai Nakamura two days ago, and he was officially going into ERIS in only a matter of hours.

He halted suddenly. "I don't think I'm ready."

"You are, don't stress." Tatsumi was here. This was the first time he and Hayate had seen each other since their first meeting. Tatsumi eyed Hayate warily, but he gave Masaki a reassuring smile.

Tatsumi had a way with young people. He had found his calling in teaching. He worked as a high school teacher. Even while he worked against ERIS, his students consumed more of his time than the Spearman did. If Kou had been born in a better century, he might have become a sensei, but that had not been his fate, then.

"Mr Tatsumi?" Hachiro called as he waded his way down the stairs. "Are we ready?"

Tatsumi nodded. "Yes. Masaki, say your goodbyes. You won't see him again."

Masaki glanced between him and Hayate. He leaned into Hayate, keeping his eyes on Tatsumi. "Hey," he spoke softly, "What happened between you two anyway?"

Hayate shook his head. "Nothing you have to worry about."

"He seems to hate you."

"There isn't anything I can do to change that." Hayate patted Masaki's shoulder. "Good luck. Stay alive."

"Listen to me, Masaki," Hachiro placed a hand on Masaki's shoulder when Hayate had gone. "No matter what happens, you cannot, under any circumstances, undergo soul implant surgery. We have proof that it causes serious long-term damage."

Masaki pulled away from him. "Like what?"

Hachiro shut his eyes, sighing. "Just trust me. I only care for your wellbeing."

"You can trust Hachiro's word. He is telling the truth." Tatsumi grabbed his car keys off the table. "Let's go"