Chapter 2: Darkness and Remorse

"On the charges of Ceaseless Teasing, Causing A Nuisance, and Unfairly Bringing Punishment Upon A Fellow Student, we at the High Court of School Affairs find Takagi-San guilty!" the Judge announced.

Nishikata leaped for joy and high-fived his attorney, none other than the faithful Kimura himself. Despite his portly frame and fixation on lunch, his friend had never failed him once, and today was no exception. As Nishikata glanced over at Takagi-San and her pathetic defense attorneys, a wicked grin of gleeful triumph spread across his face.

Takagi-San was showing a reaction at last! And not just any reaction, she was angry! Humiliated! Visibly frustrated and confused! Nishikata crossed his arms and stuck his nose high in the air, reveling in his glorious victory.

He'd done it! He'd won!

"And we hereby sentence Takagi-San to death!"

Nishikata gasped.

"Wait, what?!" he exclaimed, seizing Kimura's left arm.

"Yeah, dude!" Kimura boasted, giving him a thumbs-up. "I totally was able to argue that the maximum punishment be given! You're set for life now, my man! No more distractions!"

"What the—Kimura, what the hell?!"

But Nishikata's pleas fell on deaf ears, as the hulking security guards stomped over to Takagi's helpless form, swatting her friends away like bugs and seizing her arms with their massive hands.

"The execution is to be carried out immediately!"

"Wait, no! Stop! Please!" Takagi begged as the stone-faced guards, one of whom was none other than their teacher Mr. Tanabe, began dragging her to the courthouse door. As if that wasn't enough already, Nishikata's body began to tremble in panic as he heard the spectators in the room begin to chant a hateful, one-syllable word in approval of his classmate's fate.

"Death! Death! DEATH! DEATH!"

"Wait, hold on just one second!" Nishikata cried, trying to drown out the mob. "I only wanted justice for her teasing! I never wanted any of this!"

Just then, Nishikata heard a sinister laugh coming from the Judge's desk, and turned to see a familiar, vile pair of eyes gazing at him from underneath a gnarly red hood that was defiled with centuries of wear and tear.

"Oh foolish boy, Nishikata," Krampus laughed, his teeth dripping with sizzling venom. "This. Is exactly what you wanted!"

"Death! Death! Death! Death!" the mob continued to chant as Takagi struggled against her captors. As the front doors to the courthouse opened, Nishikata could not take his eyes off of Takagi as she wailed and cried to be set free from this cruel punishment. Then, her eyes—her crying, beautiful yet despairing eyes—locked with his.

"Why?! Why did you do this?!" she shouted at him, her tears staining her school uniform as the guards began dragging her out the door. Nishikata had no answer.

"Why were you so dead set on getting revenge against me just because of some teasing?! I don't get it!"
Again, Nishikata's tongue refused to formulate a response. His face was paler than that of a ghost, and his skin crawled with denial and shame.

"I LOVED YOU, NISHIKATA!" Takagi screamed as her face disappeared around the corner. "Don't you understand?! So then why do you detest me so?! WHHHHHHHYYYYYYY!!!"

The evil, delighted mob surged out of the courthouse after the guards and their captive, continuing their chant and some even beginning to film the spectacle with their cell phones. Nishikata's knees gave way and he fell to the ground, burying his face in his hands. Kimura clapped him on the back, and followed the crowd outside, leaving Nishikata alone with Krampus as a TV monitor suddenly flickered to life.

"Aren't you going to watch, my boy?" Krampus taunted. "Your victory is about to be sealed once and for all!"

Nishikata wanted to look away, but at the same time he found he could not stop his eyes from fixating on the screen as Takagi was dragged by the guards to a plaza just outside the courthouse.

Where an executioner stood, ready to carry out the sentence.

Nishikata wanted to do something, anything, to stop this madness. To sprint outside and save Takagi's life just in time. To retract all of the hateful words he'd said and take relinquish his naïve pettiness.

But there was nothing he could do except sob as the girl who'd loved him—the girl he'd scorned—was bound hand and foot and thrown into the center of the cold, cobblestone plaza.

Takagi was going to die.

And he was the one responsible for this horrendous act.

A repressed scream escaped Nishikata's hoarse throat as he threw the blue blankets off of his body. He swung his head left and right, ready to clobber any demon-elf or apparition of Krampus that appeared.

But no.

He was just back in his bedroom again. As usual.

From one nightmare to another.

Nishikata wiped the sweat from his brow and looked down at his hands in defeat. It had been four months since Takagi's death. The pain and sheer horror of what he had done hung over his mind, body, and soul like a thick fog.

But that wasn't even the worst part of it.

..............................................

Nishikata's instincts of self-preservation kicked in as he brought his hands up to protect himself from the incoming blow.

But those instincts, slowed by immeasurable guilt, did nothing to aid the boy as the hand of Takagi's mother struck him across the face so hard that he fell to the ground.

"YOU KILLED MY DAUGHTER!" she screamed in agony as her husband held her back. "How dare you say her name!"

"I—I'm sorry!" Nishikata whimpered as he curled up into a ball. "I—I didn't think anything would happen! I didn't know the book was—was real!"

"Shut your mouth, you insufferable brat!" she snarled as she delivered a powerful kick to his stomach.

"Honey, please!" Takagi's father implored, still restraining his wife. "The boy is just saddened by her death, that's all! He's clearly not thinking straight! Krampus isn't real!"

"Yes he is!" Nishikata argued back, looking up at the man with eyes full of self-loathing. "I saw him myself! I wrote in his book! I'm being serious!"

"He admitted it himself, Benjiro!" Takagi's mother spat. "Don't you get it?! He did this! He's the reason our dear daughter is gone!"

"Stop it, Emiyo!" Benjiro said again, his own eyes filled with tears. "Leave the boy alone! He needs some time to clear his head!"

"I'm not making it up!" Nishikata tried to tell them, but was ignored as the devastated couple walked back to their car sobbing bitterly.

Sitting back up, Nishikata gazed into the photo of Takagi perched atop her grave. Today had been the day he'd finally decided to add to the flower pile...

And also the day Takagi's parents had happened to be visiting.

He wasn't sure what he'd been hoping for when he confessed his foul dead to Takagi's parents.

Forgiveness?

Closure?

Assurance that Takagi had been sick for a while and died of other causes?

He didn't even know what to hope for anymore.

After all, was any hope left?

The girl who'd loved him, the girl who'd brought so much laughter, good memories, and joy into his life even with all of her teasing...

Was no longer here.

.............................................

Nishikata swallowed the lump forming in his throat as he recalled that encounter with Takagi's parents that had happened only one week ago.

Her father, though having been well-intentioned with his words, had confirmed to Nishikata that he would be forced to bear this burden of remorse alone.

And he wasn't the only one.

Nishikata's own parents had done nothing to help ease his pain, simply smiling at him with those insufferable parental expressions when he'd tried to confess his crime to them.

"Dear son, that book you wrote in just happened to be there," his mother had said, attempting to soothe his panged conscience. "You had nothing to do with Takagi's death."

"Mom, dad, you're not listening to me!" Nishikata had protested. But his father had no intention of letting the conversation go further.

"Go to sleep, Nishikata," his father's gentle, gravelly voice had said. "And don't forget to set your alarm for school."

Nishikata clenched his knuckles, holding back his angry tears as he recalled every failed attempt to garner empathy from those around him.

His parents.

His classmates.

His best friends.

His teacher.

None of them believed him.

None of them listened.

For the past four months, no one even tried to understand him.

The disbelieving looks.

The dismissive laughter.

The gaslighting.

He stood alone, and there was no way out.

"Nishikata?" his mother's voice sounded at the door. "Breakfast is almost ready. Make sure you leave on time for school."

"Coming mom," Nishikata said flatly as he climbed out of the bed. Ambling over to his small wooden desk by the window, he sifted through his black schoolbag to make sure all the necessary materials were there. Upon finding no discrepancies, he buttoned the shiny bag shut and changed into his school uniform. On the bookshelves just adjacent to the door, there were various comics, manga, and other sports-related memorabilia.

But Nishikata took no notice of them, for he hardly even touched them anymore.

It wasn't only Takagi he had killed that day...

It was also his spirit.

After finishing his breakfast, Nishikata walked out the door and began traveling his usual route to school. It was the same blocks, same street corners, and same scenery it always was when he'd walked this way.

But there was one key difference that he knew he'd never get used to.

Takagi was nowhere to meet him.

The school day was just like any other, with Nishikata studying alone, eating lunch alone, and keeping to himself as their strict teacher Mr. Tanabe rambled on about the usual academic mumbo-jumbo. His friends Takao and Kimura attempted to make conversation with him at different points throughout the day, to which Nishikata would just show his fake smile and pretend to laugh with them.

He'd mastered this art of concealing his torment by now.

The seat to his right where Takagi usually sat had remained empty, with no apparent replacement for her following her demise.

And it wasn't just the seat that was empty. Nishikata's heart was as well.

Where there had once been a fiery determination to outwit Takagi at all costs, only a husk devoid of all ambition remained.

Just then, the bell signaling the end of the final period rang out.

"Time to hand in your work," Mr. Tanabe said gruffly, flopping down behind his desk with his muscular arms crossed. "Make sure to stop by the gym today for the Career Fair before you head home. You need to pick out your top three careers for your essay next week."

Being seated in the back row, Nishikata was the last student to hand in his work as the students filed out of the classroom. As Nishikata stepped towards the door, he heard Mr. Tanabe address him.

"Hm, outstanding work Nishikata," the teacher said in his stoic tone. "I must say I'm surprised. Your grades have skyrocketed these past few weeks. You been studying?"

"Of course you only care about grades, you savage dolt," Nishikata fumed. "Never mind the fact that the only girl whose ever loved me is gone because of my own need for petty revenge."

The contrite seventh-grade boy wanted nothing more than to scream those words to his unempathetic teacher at the top of his lungs.

Yet once again, he maintained his act.

"Yeah," Nishikata mumbled instead, shuffling out of the classroom.

Upon arriving at the gym, Nishikata absent-mindedly looked around the giant room as he jotted down notes. There were all kinds of professions on display here, from dentists and doctors to plumbers and fishermen. Nishikata had anticipated he'd need to feign interest in one of these many careers, and readied himself to walk over to the plumber's table.

Then, something caught his eye.

A large table with the banner sporting the gold-blue emblem of Japan's National Police Agency stood in the center of the gymnasium, guarded by two police officers dressed in their dark blue uniforms. One was a tall man with a slim build and a serious expression. The other was a woman with a Sergeant insignia on her uniform and a tight bun underneath her cap.

Nishikata had never taken any interest in first responder related professions before. Yet as he looked on, at the stark colors of the NPA symbol, and the unwavering strength encapsulated by the officers in their uniforms, he felt something in his heart stir.

Making his way over, Nishikata bowed to the officers in greeting as they began asking him questions such as how he was doing, what did he want to know, and other trivial details.

At one point, however, the conversation took an interesting turn.

"Were you born in the United States, by any chance?" the male police officer asked.

Nishikata stopped short. "Yes. Why?"

The female Sergeant smiled as she handed him a paper on which he could fill in his contact information.

"If you're interested, due to your status as a naturalized US Citizen, you may have a chance to train with agencies like the FBI after serving four years as an officer!" she explained. "Should you undergo training with them, you will learn lots of valuable skills beyond what we teach you."

Nishikata was befuddled as to what benefits taking this career path would yield.

And then it struck him.

Here he was, a weak, foolish naïve boy, with no means to fight back against the dark forces that had deceived him.

And here these people were, with an open door for him to learn various skills, tactics, and abilities that would give him what he desired.

"Would that training make me stronger?" Nishikata asked.

"Absolutely, my young friend!" the tall gentleman smiled with a twinkle in his eye.

"We have a fitness camp running this summer for middle school students who are interested!" the Sergeant added. "You'll get to experience what it's like to train with officers!"

Nishikata said nothing, and simply filled in the contact card with all his necessary info.

"I look forward to seeing you there, Nishikata," the Sergeant smiled.