Hello, Amoridere here. We got a few things to cover before y'all read this fic

Research

I did as much research as I could so I do apologize for some inaccuracies in advance. As far as sources go, this site doesn't allow links (or anything that looks like a link) to be posted in the fics, so you'd have to read this on Ao3 to get those.

What kind of fic is it?

A dark, post-canon fic.

Where did the title come from?

It was initially supposed to be called something else and the working title was "Concerning a Drifter". It was a placeholder that stuck so the fic is "Concerning a Drifter".

Why did you write this?/?!

Honestly, I don't really know, though, considering when I wrote it (in the span of 2016-2017), I was prolly goin' through something and just wasnt' aware of it. Other than that I was watching Law and Order: SVU.

Are there warnings?

No, there are not. This foreword (the summary and the rating) is all you're gonna get for warnings. If you read those and continue on, y'all can't get mad. However, that said, you needn't fret, as what happened isn't described in detail but it does get darker than my usual fics, so there you go.

This was written to clear the air a bit before y'all read.

I remember when she had gone.

Always a bit of a roamer, she had told me was going away for a bit but, unlike a few times before, didn't say when she'd be back. I recall that neither of us heard from her in a long time and none of us could say where she had gone. I waited for her to come home and I hadn't taken little time to find her. I had searched for what seemed like an endless time, asking where she had gone. I could find no answers, sadly, and, despite it all, I had to cease my search efforts.

That was four years ago.

Once, as I was going about my routine and after bidding a photograph of her "good morning, I got a phone call. According to the other end, she was found and the Mankanshokus had been notified but, sadly, as much as they had loved her, they couldn't do much for or care for her properly. No one could sort out what had happened to her during her absence, in all the time that she had been gone, but it was obvious that something traumatizing had happened and, whatever that was, it seemed to have completely destroyed her psyche.

At first, when I had seen her, I almost couldn't recognize her. Her eyes were "wild" and, in certain moments, seemed blank, empty, devoid of life. Her hair had grown and become disheveled, along with being matted. She seemed to have been covered with scars and scratches, along with being slightly emaciated and, apparently, for some rather unknown but otherwise unpleasant reason, needed stitches in her neck. She was wearing white and was restrained to bed in which she had lain. Frankly, even though within she probably wouldn't admit, I had saw her as a child who demanded protection.

I agreed that I would try to care for her at home and, if I could not, then I relinquish custody to the hospital. I had failed her when the search had to be called off, certainly, I felt I would damned if I had to give up on her again. She was sick and needed care and protection. As her sister, the responsibility fell on me, even though I know not how well she could cope or what her quality of life and prognosis will be. 

That was two days ago

I brought her home and showed her to her room. The room hadn't changed since she had last been there and neither had of us gone into for ever two years. Without hesitance, she walked into the room and stared at a framed photo on the nightstand. She barely seemed to recognize who was in the photo, even herself. I suppose a once happier memory had gone, vanishing within the depths of trauma-induced psychosis, however, to make it worse, it seems, she couldn't express how she felt, having become mute due to whatever horrid experiences she had endured.

I told her that she'd have to take her medication and that, while she probably isn't particularly happy with the subject, she'd come to understand someday. I reassured her she would come to have some normalcy and that things will be alright. She wasn't looking through me, that time, no, she was looking at me. She seemed to have recognized me, if it be for a moment. She held eye contact with me for about a few minutes, not allowing me to vanish from her view.

She only broke that eye contact when she looked away, allowing me to leave. I left her to her own devices, telling her that I am not far if she needs anything.

Some things I hadn't known, then. If only I had, yet I wish it could stay unknown.

Later, two days since had come home, I was shocked by screaming. In all those two days, she had been eerily quiet but, now, for some reason, she was screaming. I should note that her screaming sounded pained, a bitter cry for help. I hurried to her, finding on her on the floor, writhing and clawing away furiously. It hadn't taken much to notice that she was reliving something unpleasant. I didn't know how to comfort her, so I hadn't much a choice but to wait for whatever traumatic reliving to pass.

After about an hour or two, her screaming subsided and she relaxed into a semi catatonic state, growing limp, her eyes staring off into nothing. To think about what she had gone through was unpleasant, to say the least, reminding me that I hadn't done well by her. I wondered if maybe the dosage of the medication should be upped or, rather, I wondered if it was too high and the side-effects being too much.

When she had recovered and seemed to be rational, I asked her what she had remembered, giving her the choice of talking about what she may have experienced or not, if she felt she wasn't ready, nevertheless offering comfort. She had been traumatically mute for the most part, aside from the screaming fit earlier, however, this time, she seemed to want to communicate, so she spoke.

She had said but two things and not at the same time, those two things being, "They came for me." and "Playpen." She didn't say more but I didn't need her to say anything else, as I had gotten a likely conclusion and it was pretty obvious as to what had happened to her. While I didn't know who "they" were or what or where the "Playpen" was, I could place the pieces very well together, starting with her injuries and scars they found on her, the wound in her neck, over her throat, her being slightly emaciated, and her mental illness.

In the time she had been away, she had been kidnapped and held against her will, undergoing unspeakable things, leaving traumatized and mentally ill. The odds, I knew, of finding her kidnappers were slim, she then being a drifter and had a history to roam. Of course, going to the authorities with the information she had given me probably would prove to be no good, double the case since she currently suffers from trauma-induced psychosis and is traumatically mute. A little investigating of my own could never hurt, after all, I had to make it up to her.

My investigation began two days afterwards.

I had Inumuta do some research. I wanted to know if there had been previous cases of girls being kidnapped. He scoured the internet and records before coming across a murder. He then told me that the victim's corpse was found in much the same state as my sister was, however, her cause of death was ruled to be strangulation. He told me her autopsy found something he'd rather not mention but did go on to state that she must have suffered enough to, in a fit of clarity, attempt suicide or, to the least, cause herself severe injury and play dead so they'd dump her some place, thus making an escape.

He then went on to tell to me that she wasn't the only victim as there have been others and many of them were drifters, migrant workers, and, in a few cases, backpacking tourists. I asked if a few of them weren't, to which he said, "One wasn't, actually, she was the daughter of a mayor and the investigation ended shortly before they found her corpse dumped in an alley." I asked him where to which he said, "Just a good couple of blocks from where she was found wandering before being taken to the hospital."

She was the only one of them found alive, however, because of mental illness and trauma, she can't recount her experiences besides what she had told me. He then gave me a theory and asked what she was wearing when she was found, to which I responded that she was found in some sort of lingerie and a stocking, however, ragged. "Ah," he responded, adjusting his glasses, "then this case is going to be harder to solve as, odds are, she was kidnapped by a group who likely either works for or is a running an underground 'services' ring, in which case, she was forced to participate against her will."

He then went on to tell me that the cases of those other girls remained unsolved, citing how hard it is to track down a "services" ring. He then went onto find more info, even using a strange sort of browser called "Tor", however, before I could even register what he saw, he slammed the lid shut and hurried out of the room. I could hear him wretch in the distance before he returned to the room, wiping vomit from his face. What could he have seen that has made him so sick?

Usually, Houka is stoic, virtually non-expressive, and few things tend to affect him, however, whatever he saw in his Tor browser had sickened him so. I waited for him to recompose himself before asking, to which he said, while slowly lifting up his laptop screen, "I'm surprised the authorities haven't even browsed these sites." He showed me what he had seen before following an "onion link" to a website. Its name wasn't something that I'd like to recite, however, the name, like the site, was graphic and, like many other girls, previous victims, there were images and videos of her.

It was total depravity, what they put her through. In most of the images, she seemed to be very much aware of what she was going through and the fact that she couldn't escape, likewise, how little she could do to fight back. Other images showed the aftermath of the acts and how her eyes had no life in them or how she was swollen in some areas. The videos were worse and, frankly, I don't know how either of us managed to watch at least one video starring her specifically without vomiting or trying to blind ourselves to get the image out of our heads, knowing we should have turned back.

I suppose her captors had been "merciful", considering that she was drugged and catatonic or, so I think in the latter case, as she might have been drugged but there is a good chance what they had given her might have been a paralytic, in which case, she might have been drugged but she would have been unable to move. Regardless of being drugged, she was bound to a bed of some sort, along with being quite undressed. At least two individuals, masked, came into view and what came next was sickening. No amount of words could describe what they did to her, however, I know they left her battered and bleeding. The title of the video was apt.

I've endured depravity and I've endured the lowest sides of evil, however, THIS, what she endured, was comparatively, in my opinion, worse. She had the luxury of only enduring what I've endured for a short while until her captors came along, in which case, they put her through that and much more. In all the time I had endured that sort of abuse, I remembered that, if she had really died, then I would consider it mercy that she wouldn't have to endure what I've endured and, if she had lived, then I would sacrifice myself to the abuse and not allow her to suffer it. I would have bent over backwards to keep Ragyo from getting her filthy depraved hands on her and I had failed at doing that, leaving me vow to keep her safe. I could have spared her from this had I kept her from roaming for those four years, had I kept tabs on her when she left. I wanted her to be happy and let her do what she loved best but I never intended to allow this to happen.

To twist the knife further than what it was, they didn't even use her name. Having kidnapped her, I would assume they would have found something on her, like an ID or something, in which to identify her with, surely, but, no, they didn't even use her identity, instead giving her a number, 000129845-9024. To them, her captors, the ones that destroyed her, she wasn't a human being, a person with a life, friends, family, personality, and feelings, someone who's loved, a rather, by most standards, an ordinary girl who loved daring things, no, to them, she was an object, a toy, something that was to be continuously used and abused, something to be killed, discarded like a broken toy. The fact that people paid to do those things to her, while filming the acts, makes that all the more worse.

If she wanted to die and attempted suicide, I wouldn't have blamed her. They could have just killed her and just let that be done with it but, no, they made her wish for death and subjected her to total torture and humiliation. She wasn't the only victim. There were others, so many others, and they were subjected to the same. They were killed, put out of their misery, yet, she had to cut her own throat just to get away from them. No deserves to undergo that kind of suffering, no matter what they've done.

As calm as I could, I asked Houka if he could hack the site, to which he tried but, unfortunately, the site's encryptions and codes couldn't be rerouted or broken, so I asked him to take note of the name of the site and screencap as many of the pages it contained as he could, to which he did. I thanked him for his time but, as I did so, he told me, "She is going to need plenty of protection, sadly, as, if the owners of the site, her captors, find out she survived, they could either kidnap her again or they could kill her to keep her exposing them."

He wasn't lying but I wasn't particularly sure as to how to protect her. I couldn't keep her confined to the house forever, however, I couldn't bear the risk of her being found, let alone traumatized further. Fortunately, she doesn't seem to be dead set on leaving the house, let alone the second floor where her room is located, and the fact that the curtains in her room are opaque and how she never bothered to open them.

I wasn't sure how to console her. I didn't want to put her through anything that she didn't have to go through. While she told me some crucial bit of intel, I couldn't bear the thought of the authorities interrogating her to find out who her captors were. Of course, while she told me that they had taken her and would put her in the "playpen", she hadn't named her captors and neither did she describe what they looked like. I suppose that she probably can't remember them outside that they've kidnapped and what they've done to her.

As I thought the images, stills from the videos, the one video Houka and I watched, and feeling the rage I felt, I found myself pacing back forth in the hallway upstairs. My mind was a jumble, and my thoughts were racing. I wanted justice. I needed justice. Justice for her, those girls, and those horrible acts committed against them. I wanted blood. I wanted revenge. I wanted to kill, destroy, tear apart the ones who did those things. Those images and the thoughts came faster, frequent, and then they mocked me, in my own voice and hers, hers especially, no less. I could hear them, I could feel them, and I wanted to destroy them. I wanted to scream, suffice enough to say.

I suppose my pacing caught her attention, as, in a moment of rationale, she was standing in her doorway, her clothes barely draped on her, looking like a frightened child. She said nothing, just blinked, however, her eyes communicated what she didn't articulate. Somewhere within, she could sense my anguish and rage. She hadn't blamed me for what had happened to her those four years ago. In the end scheme of things, while she could feel my pain, she didn't know how to comfort me, just I didn't her.

I wanted to embrace her but, as far as I knew, much like myself for a spell, she would probably associate touch with forced submission. I couldn't bear to trigger her horrifying memories, as much as I wanted to comfort her, thus, not knowing what else to do, I asked her if she'd like something, perhaps something to keeps herself warm if she felt cold, or, rather, if she'd like something nice to do, something to lift her spirits. She relaxed herself some and, without speaking, told me what she wanted, at least for the moment.

She wanted me to sit with her, in her room. I suppose it would be a silent conversation, only I had very little to talk about. I suppose I would tell her a story, a happy one. She listened intently, as I spoke. I was telling her the story about a seashell she had found but wasn't sure as to what to do with it, yet, was proud of the fact that had found it and had added it to her collection. In the little time since her return, she smiled. It was a small smile, but it was a smile.

It gave me some bit of hope to see her smile.

Authoress notes: Gonna hafta come out on a limb here with this.

Um, there might be some medical and legal inaccuracies despite my best research on the subject. For one, I am not really sure as to how those sorts of processes in Japan work and, when looking it up, I didn't get straight answers, likewise, the same goes for the physical examination that she went through, the which will be reiterated in the ending note.

----------------

Hope. Just what I had needed.

Remembering her smile seemed to help us get through this, especially when Houka's viewings of her examination records turned up something I was not expecting. Before notifying either the Mankanshokus and myself, for a little bit, they managed to sedate her (they didn't state why she was sedated but her psychotic state may have something to do with it), so they could at least check her out, double as the authorities reopened her case. I was not pleased to know that, then again, to further the investigation, they had to gather certain evidence. A "necessary evil" as I would be grudgingly call it, however, whether it be necessary or not, I consider it to be nothing short of further violation than what she already endured.

What he found out about her examination was what I would expect, physical trauma, certainly. However, said physical trauma involved a pelvis that was fractured over about four times and, apparently, upsettingly so, she might need reconstruction in her nether regions. Of course, they didn't say it was necessary that she'd have one but they said she might need one. The reasons as to why were obvious and they didn't have to report that she had taken so much damage.

While I expected those things to be to typical, Houka then used a word I was not familiar with. Medical terminology was not something I'd normally used unless it was something amusing or matter-of-fact, thus I had no clue what "gravida", let alone "multigravida" "para", and or "abortus", was. "What is that?" I asked him, to which he responded that, while he didn't know, he had a clue as to what either of them was but couldn't be for sure to which he suggested we'd ask Mako, considering that Mr. and Mrs. Mankanshoku have some knowledge of medical terms.

In curiosity and out of puzzlement, I called her and asked her to which she stated, "Oh, Mom says those things have something to do with if a lady is pregnant or not and, if she got pregnant, whether or not she had any babies after. 'Multigravida' means she's been pregnant more than one time, 'para' means she had the baby' and 'abortus' means she lost them, somehow or another." My eyes widened and I thanked Mako for her time and knowledge.

I then went on to ask Houka as to what that had to do with Ryuuko's examination records to which he said, "If what Mankanshoku said is true, then, clearly, according to the doctor's examinations of her body, her captors and or the people who paid to abuse and defile her have impregnated her, it seems, and, likewise, she's lost those pregnancies, in which case, it's listed her as 'multigravida=4', 'para=?', and 'abortus=3', which would mean she was probably pregnant four times, they don't know if she's bore any live babies, and that she has had at least 3 miscarriages, however, it seems one those pregnancies had to have been carried to term."

"Did it say she was currently pregnant?"

"No, then again, because of the damage to her body from what she endured, it's possible they just can't tell through physical examination alone. Of course, while she looks normal, physiology-wise, she isn't, actually, however, her healing factor doesn't seem to be perfect, as she can and, in this case, did sustain permanent damage."

"Okay. If she is?"

"Well, frankly, that's kind of an issue you're going to have to go over with her, a therapist, and a doctor to determine the best course of action, as, obviously, all I can say is that, knowing her mental state, she's not in a position to really make either choice as to how to deal with that possibility and its outcomes unscathed. If she isn't pregnant but instead gave birth then no one could say if said child survived. It's also possible that she might technically not be pregnant but instead is carrying a stillbirth, in which case, she should probably have that removed before it calcifies or leads to a uterine infection."

"Anything else they found?"

"Well, besides the fact that they had found extensive damage and the fact that she has been pregnant, they found no signs of VD and had drawn her blood, however, any sort of pregnancy hormones are not showing up it seems, then again, but they did give her a shot. According to the recent records in terms of her test results, thankfully, she's clean. "

I had a lot of thoughts in my head and so many issues in which to address. As said before, I don't much appreciate the fact that they sedated her to examine her but I would deem it a necessary evil, however, I'm not sure as to how she would feel about and neither do I know how to address that with her. To me, it would wrong to keep it a secret from her, however, to tell her would be cruel.

Not thinking, I found myself wandering back upstairs where she was. Unusually, she wasn't hiding in her room, actually, she was standing a good distance from the doorway. In her hand, folded, was what I assume to be a letter. I supposed that she wanted to tell me something but wasn't sure how. I met her where she was and she handed me the letter before disappearing into the darkness that was her room. I left her to her own devices, while I went downstairs.

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Authoress notes (continued): According to what I researched, a gynecologist/OBGYN can see whether or not a woman was pregnant and how many times by somewhat external examination (i.e, a pelvic exam). Again, I can't be for certain as I am not a doctor and neither did I get straight answers, so, for that bit, we're gonna have to wing it for the the story but that is about all I got on the subject, leaving me to go by what I've found.

Yes, "gravida", "multigravida", "para", and "abortus" are actual OBGYN terminology in regards to pregnancy, however, they are mostly used in medical records.

Not all surprises are pleasant.

Whatever she had known and had kept to herself, she opted to disclose in a letter, a one and a half paged letter (it was finished on the opposite side). Some things she didn't describe in details and she spent a good chunk of it apologizing. I felt my heart crack, as she was apologizing for something that wasn't her fault to start with. I never blamed her for this but, as upsetting as it is, I know others may, double because she was drifter. Delinquent, drifter, or not, she didn't ask for anything of the sort and neither did she ask for it to put up on the internet for many to see.

What she revealed in her letter, I should say, had left me rather surprised and not in a good way. According to her, what she wrote, in a moment of rationality, she was indeed pregnant, as confirmed in the doctor's reports, however, she mentioned that she didn't carry her pregnancies pass three months, as her captors would induce a miscarriage by beating her, but she did manage to carry one to term, after her captors failed to induce a miscarriage. She then revealed that she had given birth to a girl but she didn't get to see her and neither did she know what happened to her next, besides that they didn't let her keep her.

What she said was brief, honest, and to the point, along with being what she could remember. I wasn't sure as to how we could track down a child that she had given birth to, let alone is unaware if her captors had let said child lived or not. I suppose I could feel her pain, as I had spent four years not knowing what happened to her and hoping that she had survived. Of course, I was violated and defiled, however, it wasn't much like hers. I suppose I had time to condition myself to accept it for what it was, as I've endured this since childhood, but, as I can see, she didn't have that luxury, not that I would call it one, as by most standards, a luxury is oft taken for granted, as well as looked at as a given.

I suppose I could address the matter of the child she had begat but I wasn't sure as to how she'd feel about it. I didn't want to make her relive her suffering and, to be rather honest, considering the damage that she had taken from those gruesome acts, more specifically having a several times fractured pelvis and damage taken to her female organs, I am rather surprised that giving birth didn't kill her or, to the very least, leave her incontinent and with a fistula.

I found her again, in her room, resting. She wasn't asleep, however, she was resting. She wasn't unaware that I was there, actually, when she noticed, she gestured for me be next to her. She had tears in her eyes and they were rolling down her face. Her eyes were fixed into a 1,000 yard stare into vast nothingness. She wasn't looking at things any more than she was looking through them, myself included. A moment ago, I should note, she didn't have that stare, so I thus concluded that she was having a flashback and needed me to be there.

She gripped my hand tightly, as if she was gripping onto something sturdy. She kicked her legs here and there, reflexively spasming in phantom pains. She was silent throughout most of this flashback until she arched up and screamed. She fell back on her back, heavily breathing with her eye twitching. As she still held onto to me, she curled into a fetal position, shaking. When her shaking calmed a bit, she looked at me and said, "It hurts."

Surely, if she was a mother, in the biological sense of the word, then she most certainly cannot take care of a child, as, clearly, she was so broken by her experiences that she could no longer care for herself, at least not properly. However, I saw her offspring, should she be alive, as needing just as much protection but I wasn't sure it was my place to go about looking for her, to keep her safe myself. I suppose she could be safer wherever she is and not with us and, probably, was adopted into a loving family. I know not if she wants to talk about her. I'll suppose that she doesn't, considering the acts and the result have left her traumatized, thus, she'd probably want very little, if anything, to with her offspring.

Honestly, I can't blame her, if that'd be the case.

In one of the few moments that she spoke, she idly wondered what her offspring looked like. I haven't seen the child, to be honest, so I assume she looks like her mother, in much the way I do ours. I assume that she was having some maternal feelings, while alternating between them and childlike curiosity. She spoke her curiosity about a child she had given birth to but didn't see, regardless of how she was conceived.

She spoke little else on the subject, little besides that she was curious as to what she looked like. She's young, I should note, and, while she was lovely with children, the idea of actually giving birth to and taking care of one was alien to her, at least, at this point. While she was curious, she didn't ask about looking for her or wanting to know what happened. I wanted to know what had happened to her, her offspring but, again, in this chaotic time and trying to keep her safe from her captors, I feel its for the best that neither of us do, double because she cannot care for her and to keep her safe.

Apparently, it seems, I am the only that, if she ever does, she'll talk to. I am the only she trusts, however, that could hinder the investigation. I can't force her to speak to the authorities about what had happened to her and neither could I speak for her, actually, the authorities might accuse me of falsifying what she had told me.

Of course, her child wasn't the only thing she displayed some curiosity toward. She wondered what her name was, asking me. I told her what her name was, to which she replied, "Oh, I didn't know, sorry." If I ever felt self-destructive, I felt it then. I felt her pain worse than any other time I had felt it, more because her captors and abusers didn't use her name, instead calling her a number and probably some degrading name. She was born and cast aside nameless and now she had forgotten the name she was given. She was in tears and I asked her if there was anything she'd like to be called, to which she couldn't offer any suggestions, so I opted to call her, temporarily, "Kannazuki" or, for short, "Kanna", as she was born in October (I was born in May).

"Kanna?" she asked, a voice barely a whisper. I affirmed and reassured her that she'd reach some degree of normalcy. She retreated back to her room, as I told her I would bring her something nice, whatever she wanted. I went downstairs, tidied some things, washed laundry, and went about preparing her a meal. As I was doing so, I caught wind of knocking on the door. I wasn't anticipating visitors, certainly, but I opened the door, nevertheless.

It was Uzu, his gray eyes darting around. He hurried in and shut the door as quietly as he could. Before he could ask, he told me, urgently, that he had something he wanted to share with me, to which I asked as to what it was. He recomposed himself, sat on the sofa, and said, "Okay, um for one, Houks went to the dark web and, while ya' wanted answers, um, people track IP addresses on the dark web, so, um, while you're trying to protect Ryuuko, you have to remember that."

"Track it how?"

"Well, I dunno but Inu does, actually. Anywho, I got something else I wanna tell ya'."

"Okay."

"Some while ago, someone found an abandoned baby girl and they haven't ID'd the mom."

"How long ago was that?"

"Um, about six months at the most, four months at the least. Anywho, they found a baby, tested just about all the women in the city to see if the baby was theirs and all of the tests came up negative. Matoi and you are the only women in this general area, where they found the baby, that hasn't had their DNA tested."

"Alright, are they planning on making their way here?"

"Well, the authorities would like to talk to Matoi but, then again, you're the only she'll talk to, in which case, only you can obtain a bit of DNA from her."

"Okay. How?"

"Doesn't she have a hairbrush?"

"Oh, yes, she does, few of them, actually."

"Then get some from one of them, um, hairbrushes. Anywho, you and I both know Matoi and I can tell you one thing, that one thing being that there is no way in hell that she went willingly."

"Huh?!"

"We know she didn't go with her kidnappers willingly and, obviously, she might not remember much besides that they took her."

"Yes, I know that much, of course, your point?"

"My point is that the authorities might start seeing that she got herself in that predicament by being drifter and the fact she'd only talk to you. Honestly, ya'll don't need this, you're blaming yourselves enough already."

"I know that but how could they think that she'd get herself into something like that?! No one would endure that for four years willingly!"

"Yes, that is true, however, the authorities might not see it that way, actually, they might think that, because, she didn't resist or, rather, couldn't, she allowed it, therefore, little can be done and her captors and abusers may go free, on top of the fact that, again, she'll only talk to you and that she doesn't remember too much."

"I know she didn't go willingly and I can tell that she didn't consent, as she was impregnated four times and sustained enough damage to need a possible reconstruction. She was filmed and photographed being profaned over and over, wishing she was somewhere else, quietly begging for them to stop, wondering why those things were happening to her. They had broken her, so much so she can barely remember what her name was. To make it worse, she wasn't their only victim, there were others, other girls who lived such happy and fulfilling lives and had plenty of bright and wonderful futures ahead of them. They were sisters, daughters, friends, and true loves and they were all taken, subjected to cruelty and depravity, and then killed, discarded like useless dolls, as if they were nothing."

"...Ah, mmm."

"Oh, I cannot allow justice to be denied to her, as, if she wasn't their first victim, then, certainly, she wouldn't be their last. They won't stop until they are stopped, disbanded, and destroyed, facing punishments for their crimes. I don't care if she was nomadic! I don't care if any of the other girls were nomadic, the point is that they are human beings, victims, and their captors must be stopped. They deserve better than this. I won't rest until there is justice."

Uzu was silent before offering his condolences, sincerely wishing the best, comforting me to the best of his abilities. As he was doing so, he suddenly stopped and looked towards the stairway. My eyes followed his and we found her standing at the top of the stairs. I suppose she was curious, wanting to know what was going on. Visitors weren't something we had gotten much of and neither does she usually come out of her room, except for necessities (i.e going to the bathroom). It took a bit of observation to notice that she was bleeding, her injuries self-inflicted and poorly concealed.

She'd heal from it, however, I was quietly horrified. She resorted to self-harm or, rather, so I think, as I couldn't tell if her injuries were deliberate. She lacked the awareness to tell that she was probably in pain but not so that she was injured somehow, in which case, she came to the top of the stairs where I could see her. I went to help her and she didn't resist, just glancing over my shoulder to look at Uzu. She blinked and did something of a wave, showing that she remembered him, despite her trauma.

After having her injuries treated she quietly retired to her room. I returned downstairs to which Uzu sat, looking shocked. I asked him if anything was wrong, to which he vomited, before saying, "Honestly, I know they did some really fucked up shit to her but, damn, I never did quite get the full brunt of all what they did, until she looked at me, in which case, just by looking into her eyes, I could felt each and every last thing she went to."

"Oh. How would you describe that?"

"To describe it, well, I can't really say besides that, while she's alive and walking around, I would say that they killed her."

"Hmm?"

"They took away everything that made her Matoi and the thing of the matter is that we might not get her back. They stole more than her 'innocence', they took away everything, her personality, fighting spirit, memories, her sense of safety, her sanity, and, most of all, her voice. I know she'll only talk to you but, unfortunately, to the authorities, that doesn't mean anything, as, to them, her testimony has to come from her and only her and to make it worse, she can't describe who did this to her or where she was taken, along with that she's mentally ill."

"..."

"Not just that, I can see why she finds herself able to talk to you."

"Hmm?"

"Well, you're the only one she feels can sympathize and understand. I mean, sure, to you, what you went through was nothing but you certainly knows what it feels like to made powerless and have someone take carnal advantage of you, so she feels at ease telling you and no one else. Having to go through that makes you her only confidante, double because the authorities might be less inclined to solve her case, let alone see her as anything besides a whore with fucked up ass fetishes who's covering up."

I found a greater relief and yet a greater sorrow towards this situation. Relief in that she wasn't truly alone in all of this, as I was am practically the only one who understood what sort of horror she had gone through, but sorrow because her silence would betray her. As said before, I couldn't make her talk and neither could I speak for her. Uzu went home, not feeling well but leaving an effect.

To say the least, I, too, was feeling rather nauseated.

An answer, I wanted an answer.

Quietly, I begged for answer. I had begged so much so that I couldn't sleep. I would come to say that I would have a reason not to sleep and that reason would be a just one. Through some means or another, I had answer when I had gotten a phone call about something dire. I would be shocked, yet afraid, not really sure as to what to think. I wanted an answer but I never anticipated getting one in much this way.

She was sloppily dressed, a wrinkled white nightgown hanging off of one shoulder and she was wearing one sock. Her hair was disheveled. She seemed lost, her eyes darting around feverishly with a distinct expression of fear. She was outside, standing in the middle of the street, people staring at her, shocked, mouths agape. She seemed to be more verbal than before and she extended an accusatory finger, screaming, "You did this to me!"

She would scream this repeatedly, pointing at someone who looked what she would call "shifty". Everyone's attention was where her finger was pointing to. He was a man, appearing to be middle-aged, and certainly large and disgruntled, while looking somewhat sharply dressed. He seemed to recognize her but the police were suspicious. He tried to approach her to which she slapped him away, screaming louder. As everyone, save him, jumped back, her hair turned white, as she screamed her loudest before fainting. I went to retrieve her to take her home but everyone's fixation was glued to him, the one she pointed to and accused.

While they possessed little evidence to arrest him, they did take his photo to use later. They arrived at our home the next the day and, oddly, she seemed not to remember the episode from the night before until she was shown the photo in which case she screamed. and pointed, seething with a mix of fear and frothing with a psychotic rage. She had bitten her lip as she screamed before releasing it, the saliva mixed with her blood. She at first said nothing, just pointed and screamed, even trying to attack the figure in the photo, screaming, "You took me! You took me!"

The officers eyed each other a bit before heading off to find the one she accused. It took them less than fourteen hours to apprehend him and bring him in. They would hold him on suspicion. I would ask her about him to which she gave the response of, "He said I was pretty..." She trailed off and furiously shook her head, reaching up to yank hairs out of her head. She stopped, her facial expression turning blank, and asked me if he would have left her alone if she was ugly, before her empty eyes glanced up and she said, "Butterflies..."

She was in some kind a trance, seemingly euphoric. I couldn't tell if she was hallucinating or if she had dissociated and was just absently muttering. Tears welled up in her eyes, as she repeated the word, saying, "I remember the butterflies..." I wasn't really sure as to what it was she was talking about. She reached a faltering hand to the air, as if reaching out to allow a butterfly to land, before letting it fall, more tears pooling from her eyes. While confused and not really sure as to what she was talking about or whether or not she was coherent, I opted to indulge her by asking her to describe the butterflies she had seen.

She had described them vividly, as though she was in the moment. She stated that, uniformly, they were white and fuzzy. Her trance had ended as suddenly as it began. Without saying anything else, she walked back up the stairs and disappeared into her room. I struggled to piece together as to what she had said in her trance. Something within me would try to explain away the "butterflies" as really being white patches in her vision, probably from either the effects of being drugged wearing off or being struck and subsequently dazed, however, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't rationalize any plausible theory.

It was odd how that trance seemed to have come when she had told me something crucial before asking how things would have been had she'd been ugly. Generally, for the most part, I am not known to accept odd theories but, mentally, I couldn't reason any sort of the plausible. She had been drugged, certainly, and, clearly, she had to have been struck, multiple times but I just couldn't associate those "butterflies" with having to do with either one.

I tried again but I found I still couldn't. A hallucination of sorts? Probably, after all she is mentally ill, and has been psychotic with few bouts of coherency. Dissociative mumblings? No, not likely, actually, if she had dissociated, I doubt she would have even acknowledged my being there, along with what she said as being honest, to the point, and vivid, along with as if they were there actually there for a moment. There was many a logical explanation for them but, as said before, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't reconcile the butterflies as being connected with either.

After trying for awhile to figure out what those butterflies in which she had seen were, I had realized that they didn't have a logical explanation. No, there was something odd about those butterflies, sure enough, and, after trying to rationalize them away, I found myself turning to an odd theory.

I would suppose the butterflies she had seen were the spirits of the girls who were previous victims that had came to comfort her. That's what they had to have been. The fact that she remembered the butterflies had given her a bit happiness and she was saddened when they left. These girls, previous victims, victims of someone's evil pleasure and depravities, had comforted someone they didn't know, yet felt her pain, suffering, horror, and sorrow from even beyond the grave.

Music Playing: Sold your soul by Yoko Kanno

I suppose I would find some degree of comfort throughout this

She spent the next day sleeping. She had slept before since her ordeals, however, she didn't sleep as soundly as she had now. She, for a moment, looked peaceful, not at all like she did a bit before. She had slept an entire night and, now, she was sleeping her day away. She slept as though she hadn't slept in years and, frankly, having gone through so much hell since birth to now, she deserved this bit of peace.

As she slept, she seemed to have gained a semblance of what was lost to her torment of four years. I couldn't put a finger on it but I knew something, in her slumber, had returned. In knowing and feeling that something return, I wondered if and hoped for it to stay. Frankly, I wanted her back. It was a wish, certainly, no doubt about it, and some things about her are truly lost. Her illness and trauma she'd have to live with for the rest of her life.

She didn't awake until later that afternoon. She wouldn't be awake for long and, in a rare but brief moment, she had come downstairs, finding me in the kitchen. Blinking her sleepy eyes, she said, "She has a name." I was startled but it hadn't taken me too long to figure out who she was talking about. Before I could answer her, she placed her once closed hand on the table before opening it and withdrawing from the table, leaving behind few stray hairs. She would return to her room, leaving me no guesses as to why she had left me the hairs.

I would send them into the lab to run a DNA test. I wasn't sure as to why she had given me the hairs but, whatever reasons she had, she might not disclose, however, I had a feeling she was entrusting her child to me or, rather, she just wanted to see her. Probably some maternal instincts that she wasn't aware that she had. Nevertheless, I was left curious as to what she could have named her child.

I would return to check on her and still found her asleep, peacefully. I left her alone to her slumber and, not knowing what else to do, I decided to sit down and think. I couldn't quite identify all in which it was I was thinking about but my thoughts were about mostly about her, the child she gave birth to, and the girls who had lost their lives, yet, in death, decided to comfort her. However, said thoughts had left me unsettled.

Later, that night, as I was still sitting on the sofa, thinking, daydreaming, and trying to sort them out, she had awakened from her slumber and wandered down the stairs. She decided to sit next to me, her hand taking mine in hers. I blinked and asked her, in an idle moment, "What did you name her?"

"Seigyoku." she responded, a few tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Seigyoku?"

"Yes."

"Do you remember more about her?"

"Her eyes were blue and they sparkled."

"I see."

"Her eyes were really pretty and they sparkled kinda like that-I don't really remember what it was but you did wear it once. I don't remember when."

"It's alright, you'll remember someday."

"As soon as she came out of me, I only saw her eyes and they took her away. They said she was pretty."

"Did you want to see her?"

"Yes."

"..."

"May I ask you something?"

"Yes, you may."

"When you was a kid, did you miss me?"

"Yes, I had, I had missed you. I didn't get to know you and, even though I wouldn't have remembered you, us being infants, what Father told me made the loss extremely fresh, cutting me deeper than blade. I felt that for over thirteen years."

"Are you mad at me, Sis?"

"No, of course not. I can't be upset with anyone over something that they are blameless for. What they did to you is something you cannot be blamed for."

"If I can't remember anymore, are you gonna be mad?"

"No, I won't. I'll always be there for you to remember."

"Always?"

"Yes, always, I promise."

Silently, she acknowledged that I was weeping by wiping away the tears I had chosen to ignore. Up until a certain bit of this point, I had felt rage, just rage, and very little else, little to be acknowledged but, this time, I felt a bit more than that, acknowledging more besides the rage. I felt sorrow. Sorrow for what she had lost, sorrow for what I had lost, sorrow for those girls and their loved ones, and sorrow for the incomprehensible cruelty of many things, fate especially.

I could recall what she was trying to remember. I once wore a sapphire necklace and, if I recall, it was during my birthday. The necklace was a present and I would say it was given to me at the right time because I was wearing a rather plain white dress with blue pumps. She had worked her hardest to save enough money and putting in much effort to buy it for me. She was so happy to see me wear it.

The fact that she could barely recall shattered my heart, as well as hers. She really had lost most of her memories of happier times and it deeply troubled her that she might not get them back. I wondered if it'd be possible to help create new memories but, even if that be possible, I know they won't be able to replace the ones she had lost.

Before she went back up to her room, she had thrown her arms around me, whispering, "Goodnight, Sis."

The Day after...

The next day seemed to have been a blur. I had overslept, waking up some time around 11:30 am. I suppose I needed that, after the night I had. Ryuuko still slept, remaining peaceful. No sooner than when I had awakened and went downstairs, I received a knock at the door. It was someone from the lab who had given me an envelope, saying nothing. He left as quickly as he came. I opened the envelope and peered at the contents. Apparently, there was something I hadn't anticipated.

The DNA tests revealed that Kanna wasn't just the mother of one baby, instead, they revealed that she was the mother of two, twins. However, she only remembers having one, leaving me to wonder if the other didn't survive the birth. I knew not much about twin births but I would assume that, sometimes, one twin may survive while the other may not, in which case, if Ryuuko remember one baby being born, then it would be rather safe to assume that one had died. Then again, while she remembers giving birth to one, the possibility that she might have mixed one up for the other or the babies were abandoned in separate places cannot be equally ruled out.

I was confused and wondered that, if she had given birth to two, what happened to the other if only one was found. I decided to contact them and asking if it was possibly that they could have made a mistake, explaining that only one baby was found and my sister recalls giving birth to one. I got an answer of doing a retest, in which case, I sent the results and a few hairs back and would wait for them to return.

As much as I found the fact that she had twins to be farfetched, I decided to talk to Houka about it, to which he said, "It's a possibility that can't be dismissed, however, she is suffering traumatic memory loss and mental illness, so it is possible that she might have had twins but just didn't see them both or mixed one up for the other. Then again, maybe the lab made a mistake and she really is the mother of only one, unless there was another baby with an unidentified mother abandoned elsewhere, probably abandoned around the same time."

A week came after speaking to Houka and the results came back the same, one of the lab members explaining to me that there was another baby abandoned and her DNA also matched Kanna's, however, he mentioned that there was a mistake in the sense of the babies in question are not twins, actually, one is older. I then went to the lab to meet with him formally. We had a long conversation but he went on to explain to the mistake, saying, "Ah, it turns out when the DNA was tested it was tested twice on both children, so it came up that the two were identical, however, when retested again, we found out that two girls had were actually sisters from different pregnancies."

"So that means...?"

"Yes, your sister actually gave birth twice and probably miscarried at least twice. Since you mentioned her being traumatized and mentally ill, it's very possible that she just might not remember or her captors, after realizing she hadn't miscarried, probably drugged her when she was full-term or close to and induced her labor."

"But her examination records said 'abortus=3', surely she couldn't have carried twice."

"Yes, yes, but physical examinations carry a margin of error, however, since she obtained physical damage during her captivity and brutalizings, it's possible that they made a mistake in terms of examining her reproductive parts when it came to that, so they just assumed she miscarried three times going by their findings, especially with examination of her cervix. As DNA shows, she's the mother of an infant and toddler."

I went home bewildered. She was awake but I wasn't sure if I wanted to tell her, considering her distant, painful, and faded memories. I hid the results away and sat on the sofa, drained. As I sat, she returned to sit next to me, resting her head on my shoulder. I asked her if she wanted to hear a story, to which she replied, "Seashell?" I replied that I had already told her that story and that I'd tell her another.

I told her a story about a necklace. The necklace she had gotten me for my birthday and how pretty it was, how happy it made me and how special I'd always consider it. About how well thought out and how much hard work she had made to save to buy and pick it out for me. I told it like it was fictional because I didn't want to make her upset, as the memory associated with the necklace and the surrounding event had been shattered. However, I mad no efforts to conceal my sorrow and neither did I bother to dry my tears.

My sorrow puzzled her but she stayed silent, preferring to not leave my presence until the tears stopped. It was only before she started up the stairs did she break her silence by saying, "Sorry..., Sis." She disappeared into her room, leaving me alone in my sadness. As I mourned, I found a rush of panic overtake me, forcing me to go and check on her. I went to her room fearing the worse, finding myself relieved when I found she was only sleeping, her breathing and living functions overt.

I returned to the sofa, hoping to calm myself but I would be snapped to my feet by a phone call. The police wanted to ask me what I had known and asked me to come down to the station. I was asked a series of questions and I gave honest answers, elaborating further on things.

"Has she known this man prior to her being kidnapped?"

"No, she has not. Neither she nor anyone she knows has seen this man before now."

"Has she been known to be nomadic?"

"From time to time, yes."

"Has she ever been sexually active or have had multiple partners?"

"No, she has not, none that I know of."

"Did she tell you where she was taken to?"

"No, she doesn't remember and neither does she know."

"What did she wear at the time of her leaving?"

"She was wearing a red shirt, off one shoulder, a sukajan, and a pair of jeans with athletic shoes and a red scarf with a silver bracelet."

There were many more questions but one question made my blood turn to magma. They asked if she had put up any resistance and or was threatened. Usually, I would bite back my rage but this wasn't a time I would be doing such a thing, actually, I screamed louder than I had ever screamed before. I would go one something of a tirade about how she didn't consent, how she didn't ask be kidnapped, or about how she didn't ask to be drugged, beaten, or quadrice impregnated, leading to children that, in her mental state, she cannot care for properly.

I then went on to say how he didn't even act alone and that he had accomplices, along with having forced her into prostitution. I pointed out that my sister identified him as the one who arranged those things to occur to her and, whether she be mentally ill or not and cannot speak much for herself, she could remember a great deal of what had happened to her and who victimized her. How dare they ask such a question in which the answer was obvious!

I was enraged at this treatment and, if I had a mirror, I probably would see how red my face was. The officers were dumbfounded and offered apologies for upsetting me. I calmed down and promptly asked to be excused, to which I was obliged. I went home, still seething, wondering if my magma blood would kill me.

She was awake again. I could read her cues. She wanted to reach out, to comfort, but, she didn't know how. She could tell the conversation with the authorities didn't go well. I opted not to talk about it, asking if she would like something to eat, instead. She gave little reply besides that she wanted something sweet.

For dinner, in silence, we had tea on rice.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Authoress note:

Interesting bit, um, actually, it was supposed to be that they find out Ryuu had twins through via DNA but I wasn't really sure if that could happen or not so I went about doing some research and asking questions. The answers I got had boiled down to "No, not really." to being "Yes, it could be done but only if both Mom and kids are tested." In short, a yes and no, so, before posting, I edited this chapter to make it more plausible by making one baby older than the other and them being at least a couple of years a part.

Also, I did some research on Japanese legal systems in regards to rape, even reading an article detailing one exchange student's experiences but, apparently, the laws don't recognize someone saying "No!" or "Stop!" when the initiator tries to initiate sex against the victim's will to be considered resistance, actually, they define resistance in terms of if you fought back against the attacker and it would be considered rape is he either used threats of violence or coercion, along with physical force (mostly threats and physical violence), along with that they divide it into two categories but are more likely to prosecute if the victim didn't know the attacker vs if they did (interestingly, this was case in America, as marital/relationship rape wasn't considered prosecutable until about the 70s and or 80s) and that the system is rather biased, along with that there is a chance the ringleader (the one who Ryuuko pointed fingers at) might get off or get a lighter sentence on that (emphasis on "might" as I am interpreting what I've researched).

Not really sure about the kidnapping and forced imprisonment, though, but I assume one would get a heavier sentence for those counts, emphasis on "assume", so I'm going to have to do more research on that.

There was a source with actual statistics and a link to that article with the exchange student but, again, you'd have to find this fic on ao3.

Music Playing: "A Victim's Past Wish" by Falcom Sound

Some memories are just bitter

About a week and a half afterward, I found myself waking up in the middle of the night. I knew not why I had awakened but I found myself singing, "You Are My Sunshine." It was instinctive, an instinctive mourning drive, a deep drive to comfort, to reassure someone loved. I arose from my bed, wandering about singing the song repetitively, faint tears streaming from my eyes, along the way.

I would wonder if my emotions sent me into some kind of trance-like delirium. Outside of singing and wandering, I wasn't too aware of what was really going on. I was to be snapped out of this when I felt the force of over a hundred hands jerk me away. I didn't really know what they were jerking me away from and, outside of the trance, my memory is a bit of blur. Apparently, someone besides the unseen had noticed, as I found myself being brought to the hospital. I was looked over, talked to, and, when everything was noted to be fine, I was released.

The sun was just peeking over the horizon, however, I hadn't anticipated visitors in the form of Mako and the Four. They looked terrified and I asked them if they were alright to which Mako answered, "Uh, Sats, um, well, you were almost hit by a truck last night." She then went on to say that people thought I was sleepwalking and were quite concerned. She then asked if there was anything I would like to talk about. I couldn't refuse, so I affirmed.

I was candid, told them much of everything, including the trance from the night before and how I was singing "You Are My Sunshine." for reasons I couldn't identify, just the fact that I was singing it. They looked at me with a mix of worry and sadness, Mako saying, "You miss her, of course, we all do." Her eyes became faraway and, silently, she recalled her memories of her prior to this event, a glimmer of tears falling from her eyes.

She came back to reality saying, "Remembering hurts." I agreed that remembering once happier times during a period of utter misery was painful. It stung like a deep cut to the palm, felt over the course of a few years. A moment of silence came, however, it didn't quite stay, as, from upstairs, I could hear her singing. She was singing the same "You Are My Sunshine.", however, she sounded rather pained, almost pleading, mourning a loss. Mako blinked, stared off wistfully, and whispered, "She can feel your pain..., just as you do hers."

She then went on to say that remembering hurts.

After some bit of singing, she stopped and, before we had a chance to anticipate, something fluttered down the stairs. It was a wispy white butterfly, much like the ones she described not too long ago. It fluttered around the room before landing in my palm, fading away in particles of light. She really did see butterflies. "They mourn, too," Mako said, "the other girls, the ones you don't know."

The Four were confused, until Mako explained that the butterfly we had seen was a spirit of a previous victim. Apparently, said spirit was trying to comfort me or, rather, acknowledge something, either way, it proved that I couldn't give up. I mourned my sister, just as those girls' families and loved ones mourned them, however, unlike Kanna, they hadn't the fortune of being what one could call "lucky" as they had died, while she was left mentally ill and amnesiac.

Said butterfly wasn't the only one we had seen as few more were fluttering around the room, each of them gravitating towards me before disappearing in particles of light. Soon, she resumed singing that song, except she sang the complete song. She was upstairs as she sang but, unusually, she came downstairs, just as she was finishing the second verse. She finished and looked around bewildered, like a newly awakened toddler. She seemed to have no real recollection of coming downstairs, thus she returned to where she was initially.

As she walked upstairs, a wispy white butterfly followed after her.

With some trepidation, we crept up the stairs. I couldn't possibly describe how I had felt upon being greeted with the scene upstairs, let alone on what to make of it. For some odd reason, things were in total disarray and neither of us recalled hearing any noises. The floor was littered with several shards of broken glass, a few of them bloodstained, and all the mirrors were broken. Kanna was fine, unharmed, and sleeping soundly. Obviously, she didn't break the mirrors, as, if she had, we would have heard something.

Everything was fine before she came upstairs but, now, there was broken glass and things in total disarray, as if a typhoon had come through. However, the chaos and glass weren't the only thing unsettling, it was the fact that we had seen a figure at the end of the hall. This figure was female, about medium height, and didn't appear to be any older than about mid-teens. She just stared before changing form into a butterfly and fluttering off. "The spirits of the stolen girls, I guess, might had picked up on your rage." Mako said, as though she were in a daze.

If what she was true, then, certainly, getting justice for Kanna and those girls became even more of a dire must. I knew I had to try harder at getting him put away and eliminating his lackeys. Mako then glanced at me, asking, "So, maybe you want to pull some strings, now?" She, like earlier, was serious about returning to the ways of old, during the time Honnouji. I would hope that she wasn't but she was and there was no denying it.

I knew justice had to be done but I wasn't sure as to what to do. I couldn't delay this but I knew to pull strings and be found out would not only jeopardize the mission, but it would leave Kanna vulnerable. The authorities are not much far from calling her a "whore" and victimizing her further, yet, in all the same, there had to be justice. I wanted justice those years ago and it turned into revenge where I became no better than the person who I had thought murdered her.

I regretted that, certainly, double because she's alive, however, I was stuck at crossroads.

As I thought, in the background, I heard Mako say, "I'll be bait!"

Bait for what?

Mako was most certainly unusual. However, I suppose I could call her chivalrous for wanting to risk her life just to seek justice. She offered to let herself get kidnapped, brutalized, and put on film just to expose them. By that point, Uzu had returned, asked what he had missed, and had Mako answer, to which he asked, "How're we gonna do that?" She was at a pause, wondering how to answer. She proposed to sacrifice herself, yes, however, she didn't make a plan. Gamagoori then proposed that we'd pitch the concept to the authorities and see what they think.

Houka rebuked the notion, saying, "Surely, the authorities will think we're stupid for even wanting to attempt such a thing and, odds are, they wouldn't allow it." He had a point, as the police have had too many scandals about endangering civilians and, certainly, if we volunteered ourselves for such a dangerous task, we'd risk a chance of being killed. Obviously, getting justice wasn't worth being killed or leaving Kanna alone to fend for herself.

Nonon glanced around and said, "Well, if we can't do that, then well, you have money don't you?" I stated that I was rich much like she was but I expressed that I didn't quite understand how that my being wealthy had anything to do with what she was suggesting, to which she responded, with something of a harsh whisper, "You know, with a fatass stack of cash, you can, um, oh, I don't know,...bribe." Her words came out like a hiss but, with their implication, my understanding became clear. Mako shook her head eagerly at the hissing, suggesting that we'd bribe the authorities into imprisoning and prosecuting him, thus getting justice.

Gamagoori pointed out that the punishment for bribery would be severe and the fact that, because convicting him wouldn't have been done with correct protocol, it would be overturned and he could be acquitted on the charges, evidence be damned.

Uzu suggested that I should bring Kanna with me the next time I go to see the authorities and have her confirm or, alternatively, I record what she says outside of delusions. As he was suggesting this, he paused, looking as though a lightbulb had alight in his head and asked if she had written anything supporting what she had gone through, to which I confirmed, getting the response, "Well, damn, why didn't you just put it through a copy machine and give them a copy? If anything, that could speed up the case and lock him up for good, after all, what she wrote is as good as what she said."

I would assume myself to have been known for momentary lapses of judgement, as I hadn't at all considered how valuable her note would have been. However, I would have to look for it, as I had forgotten where I had put it. While Kanna slept and after the others had left, I searched all about the house for it, until I came across girl in white. She didn't look to be very old, actually, she looked to be about one, and, in her small, chubby hands, she held a notebook, handing it to me, as though I've asked for it. When I took it from her, she looked up at me and beamed before fading away.

I suppose it would be worth noting that she resembled my sister greatly, especially by how she smiled. I came to the conclusion that she was the spirit of one that hadn't had the chance to be born, one that her mother's captors had killed while she was still within. Quietly and subtly, I mourned her.

That notebook was my sister's and it was once a birthday present, given by Mako, however, she had yet to write in it, well, not outside of doodles.

What secrets did the notebook hold?

I sat where I was and thumbed through the notebook, glasses be damned. For moment, through determination, I could read her handwriting and see her drawings clearly. Her writing detailed as to what she could remember of her ordeal, with at least two passages containing the noting of, "It hurts so much!", "I've been bleeding again.", and the questions, "Why does it hurt still?" and "Will it stop hurting?!", said writing pertaining to her nether regions, as well as other physiological effects.

While she described what she remembered, I would find myself sickened again, especially since, one page, she included a rather detailed illustration of something she went through. According to what she wrote, two people had paid for her in tandem but, however, wanted to "up the standard" and that she was "tough", along with how she'd deserve something "special". Within said passage, she mentioned how something "thick, blunt, and had spikes" and how it'd "fit", along with that she'd "enjoy it". True to said passage, the illustration had her tied up, gagged, wide-eyed, and in an even more compromising position, with covered in red and purple patches, with plenty of red around her lower regions, with said object, something akin to a narrow, spiked club, as she described, exactly where I'd assume it to be.

It was a large illustration and, as said before, detailed, however, this drawing was quite unlike her doodles or the other ones, along with passage in which it illustrated being the most detailed. I would suppose this memory she had possessed was the most vivid, considering that she even described the amount of pain she was in afterwards. The passage stated that, apparently, "the Boss" decided to be "nice" to her, which is to say, he let her hose herself off with cold water (i.e, clean herself up), along with telling her how she well did, however, as she wrote, he didn't want to lose any money and dreaded that he'd have someone look at her wounds. She wrote that, if other girls were assessed, they would be picked for, as she put it, "staying or going" and, if the "doctor" (supposing the person isn't an actual physician, as she wouldn't know) found anything wrong, then the girl "had to go" and, if the doctor found nothing wrong, then she could stay. Obviously, he found nothing wrong with her and, thus, she was allowed to live. She then went on to write how the doctor "patched her up" and that she healed, however, she would still feel those scars.

Another passage, while not as detailed, mentioned how her captors had brought in a new girl and that, in about a few cases, she was made to watch, as Kanna was "experienced" and the new girl had to "learn". She didn't describe this girl much, however, she did state that this girl didn't look any older than about ten or twelve and that she was curious as to where they could have found her, along with wishing that they would let the girl go home. She did say that she and this new girl had to room together a spell and that it seemed she had a friend, along with saying that "she was a baby" and noting how this girl couldn't talk, along with how she looked to my sister for safety. The end of the passage described her regret and, despite not knowing what happened to her, how she wished she could have saved her, writing, "Don't know what happened to her and they took her away but, if I could've, I would've saved her. I wanted to." In a side note, she wrote, even if for a short time, she had someone to keep her company, a friend, and that she hoped they had set her free.

While I felt revolted and sickened with previous passage and the fact that they had brought a child into their depravities, I found myself saddened by that passage. As she was held captive, I could feel an extent of how alone she was and truly felt. Besides being sold to be used and abused, she was practically devoid of almost all human contact and, beside the girl she mentioned, she probably wasn't allowed to associate with the others. She was kidnapped, taken away from her loved ones, treated like an object, and isolated in a cell perhaps, given hardly anything to really cling or look forward to, thus, the fact that they allowed her some semblance of companionship was probably what she could call one of if the happiest moments of those four years. I could only imagine the crushing heartbreak she must have felt as they took the girl away and how she never got to know what happened to her. Likewise, my heart also wept for the child who was forced to watch the depravities and how she was, mute, innocent, along with being torn away from someone with whom she felt safe with, circumstances be damned.

Like Kanna, I hoped they didn't hurt her and that they just let her go, surely.

The rest of the passages detailed more depravities, yet a great many of them were heartwrenching, especially with one where she talked about her baby, the one she named "Seigyoku", mentioning how, as she's written in a note, this time with elaborating more on the baby, they had tried to induce miscarriage, as they had done before, however, they were unsuccessful and settled on letting her carry the baby to term, which she did and, once she was born, they took her away. She described the baby's eyes, again, and how she wished they let her keep the daughter she gave birth to, along with expressing that she wished she could have stopped them, along with wishing that she had known what could have happened to her baby. Unfortunately, as she wrote, despite having just gave birth, she wasn't allowed time to recover and, within about an hour and a half, someone had brought her and she was back to being used and filmed.

Another passage, as she mentioned, was how she often thought of how I was doing, stating that she wondered if I'd be upset with her and whether or not if I had missed her. According to her captors, no one would be looking for her and, if they were, no one would be able find her, along with that she was better off where she was. By that point, she was broken. It was almost childlike how she wrote that one and her writing was smudged by her tears.

To preserve the evidence, I found myself forcing the notebook shut. Her tears had already smudged her writing and it would be a disservice to make it illegible with my own tears. I was winded and, while feeling sickened and heartbroken, I felt weak, almost as if I could hardly move or breath and wanting to vomit.

I put the notebook in a sealable plastic bag and stashed it where I put the revised DNA results before going off to vomit and then turning in for the night, silently weeping until I let sleep take over.

Music Playing:  World of Scattering Flowers   by Ry? Mizutsuki

The day after, I still felt tremendously ill and made note to tell the police that, due to my condition, I couldn't speak with them that day. They didn't question it and told me they would check again in a few days, leaving me to find myself in bed, feeling weak and winded.  I was distraught, yet the feeling of anguish was distant and it seemed, besides the malaise and feeling winded, I couldn't feel anything besides numbness and cold.  I resolved to lie there and not do much else, certainly. However, as I lied there, I didn't notice her coming in the room.

  I had my eyes closed and was between being asleep and being awake. She entered the room quietly and I don't recall how long she was there but she might have been standing by my bedside for about five if not fifteen minutes before lying next to me. I guess, in a brief moment, she was a child and, doing what some children might, she shook me a little to see if I was alive. Without looking, I waved my hand in response. She said nothing and resumed lying quietly next to me. She left for a moment before returning and I felt her brushing at my hair. She would stop doing that before becoming still.

She was still for about an hour, until I felt her tears roll down my face. It had taken a little bit before I registered her hugging me, an embrace to which I weakly returned. As she climbed off the bed, I felt her let go and her voice whispering a pained, "I'm so sorry, Sis, forgive me."  I finally opened my eyes when I felt something horribly wrong. By that point, it was nearing twilight and I had felt something wrong. Any semblance of sickly feeling was replaced by panic and heartbreak. 

   I scrambled about the house, calling out for her but receiving no answer. I felt a chill, finding its source to be an open front door. My anguish and panic quickly turned to dread and, regardless if I wasn't wearing shoes, looking decent, or even locking the door, I found myself running through doorway, chasing after her. Like crazed but frightened cat, I found myself scrambling about trying to find her.

  I called her name and asked various people if they had seen her, to which some would say they would but then they would give me the time as to when.  I was desperate and thought I would collapse to my knees and wail, until I had seen a pale white butterfly fluttering around me. I felt a sudden push, a jolt of energy, almost as if something took control of my legs and made them run again. I chased after this butterfly until I came to a set of ruins. It was past nightfall and I had run long beyond what I thought were city limits.

The ruins belonged to something my sister would have found familiar and, of course, they did. According to a worn and charred plaque, the ruins belonged to her then childhood home and, while she didn't quite have pleasant memories of our father, I was left wondering as to why she bothered to come back, as the past in regards to him and what happened wasn't something she liked to talk about, just regret that she wished he didn't send her away.

   This ruined home was where the butterfly brought me. I continued following it, until I found it resting on her red streak. She lied there, limply, an empty pill bottle and soda can by her side and foam trickling from her mouth. I felt her and found that she was still warm and the fact that she still had her pulse, however faint, leaving me to conclude that she had overdosed roughly five minutes prior. I knew time was of an essence, as she could very well succumb to her suicide attempt. I suppose I felt another wave of determination, as I gathered her into my arms and hurried to the nearest place with a phone.

She was taken to the hospital and the doctors informed me that, while she'd survive, they wanted to transfer her for a spell to a psychiatric hospital. I wanted to protest this but, instead, I was reduced to just asking if she'd be well taken care of and if I'd be allowed to visit her, to which I reassured on one of those, however, they couldn't necessarily guarantee a visiting times, until they knew what her condition would look like and, if she was deemed well enough, then a visiting schedule and possible release date would be decided.

I stayed with her throughout the night, fighting back tears. I wanted to take her home, for things to go back to the way they were, to make her well again, but, regardless of what I wanted, I hadn't a choice because, in the end, need won over want and her being transferred, even if I may not see her again for a long time, was for the best. The truth was a harsh, nasty one and whatever sort of "reality" I wanted was shattered, leaving me to wonder as to whose best interests and desires I may have acted on for a good while.

The day after, she was taken, as her frail fingers slipped from mine. Weakly, it seemed she was trying to hold on to me for a moment, as her hand slipped from mine, but, as it seemed, she knew. I suppose she had always known that something terrible would befall her, even if she dealt it by her own hand, and she knew that sending her away would come. Even if she screamed or cried out, she couldn't fight this and, as much as I wanted to, neither could I.

        I had to let her go.

I returned home, finding Mako and the others there, worried and confused. I told them that I didn't have a choice and that is why she isn't home. I told them what happened and how she attempted to end her life, along with how I didn't see the signs or think that she'd even consider it. Regardless of what I said, considering all that she had been through, I can't foresee any reason as to why she'd want to live and, with that knowledge, I wonder as to why I saved her, despite the fact she had suffered so much.

I said what I said, allowing myself to fall further back on the sofa. I was tired, drained, weak, and completely unsure as to how I could go about picking up the pieces of shattered lives and long shattered reality. I was always told that, at some points in our lives, that we'd all have to admit weakness and inability and I had reached that point dreadfully so. Letting her go had to be done, regardless of what either of us wanted.

After telling everything that went on just last night and earlier that day, I would mentally note how numbed and how detached, practically matter-of-fact, I sounded. I supposed that letting her go, while obligatory, didn't feel real and so, without realizing, I was shocked and confused, leaving the night before and the morning earlier to be something of a haze. What happened next was something of a blank, but I do recall awaking in my bed with the others there, Mako asking if I'd like some water or if I was sick and needed to rest, regardless deducing that something wasn't right.

As the others stared at her, she calmly relayed the information I had told her back to me concerning Kanna, along with suggesting that I pursue therapy, as, obviously, to her observations, I was traumatized in somewhat the same way my sister was, however, I could acknowledge what my feelings and personal problems were. I could color her correct, as, in some way, I was battling my own conflict in regards to the abuse and harm I had suffered by trying my damnedest to, in my own perception, save her from it, thus, leaving me to question as to whether or not I could say I was acting on my sister's behalf or my own.

However, in typical fashion, she changed the subject back to Kanna, asking if we could visit her and such, to which I told her that the doctors said whether or not she would be released or visitation would be allowed depended on her progress, so for the time being, we wouldn't be allowed to. She blinked and simply said, "Oh, okay." She would be quiet for about five minutes before jumping up, walking out of the room, and returning to ask, "How long were those handprints on the door?"

I found myself confused, as I don't recall seeing any handprints on any door, to which I noted, however, she responds, "Well, they're there and they're little, really little." She pointed to the "rim" of the door and, true enough, there were red handprints, roughly the size of a child's, specifically, a toddler's. They were posed over the rim, as whatever toddler was there was hiding behind the door and peeking out. Like the butterflies and the child who handed me the notebook, the handprints could not be dismissed. I would suppose said entity was concerned and she was just too shy to approach me openly (I've only seen one of them when I was alone).

As I thought about this, I found myself startled by a point Mako had made about Kanna's babies. I was confused, however, I guess I hadn't taken something into account. As only she could, she told me that the babies were mine now because Kanna was incapable of taking care of herself properly and, because of my relation to her, they couldn't be adopted or fostered without my go ahead, thus making them mine. Likewise, Houka, Nonon, and Gamagoori (Uzu zoned out) backed what she said, with Gamagoori citing, "Yes, the babies, whatever their names are, are yours in a sense because you're related to them, thus, odds are, if custody were to be decided, they would either stay in the orphanages in which they were brought or they would be given to you, as, obviously, both of where the babies are know that you are their aunt through DNA tests, circumstance-wise, their mother, as their birth-mom can't care for them, let alone herself, so you have to choose what happens to them."

While I processed that information, having something of a mental power struggle, I found myself wondering as to what my sister would have wanted. Of course, I couldn't ask her that, considering that she was hospitalized and, in her mental state, reduced to being practically a child, who needed to be cared for and protected. Had I truly been acting on her behalf or have I been acting out of my own sense of revenge? If my memory served me well, I would recall that she stated she wanted to see one of them, the one she remembered, as her captors said her baby was pretty and that they had taken her away before she was sold again. However, I couldn't ask or consider what she'd want, as she couldn't decide that. To be honest, I never really quite saw myself as a parental figure, guardian of sorts perhaps, but not a parental figure. The thought of being a mother just seemed alien and, considering the (physical) effects our mother's abuse and remembering how she was, I just couldn't see myself as anyone's mother, yet, as Gamagoori put it, I was a mother through circumstance.

While the subject of Kanna's babies was there, there was also the subject of her notebook and, while reading her writings was bad enough, apparently, I hadn't read all of them. According to Mako, there was a note Kanna had hidden behind a many number of blank pages in the back of her notebook and, as she boiled it down, my sister loved me too much. She told me that Kanna had quite intended to kill herself, however, at first, she figured I would be "better off" with her, considering how all of this has affected both of us alike, but couldn't bring herself to ask me, so she opted to kill herself so I wouldn't have to shoulder her burden anymore. She wanted to sacrifice herself just so I could move on and not pursue revenge for her sake.

The realization had sent me to the hospital. The doctors had diagnosed me with stress-induced cardiomyopathy or, simpler terms, "takotsubo", alternatively, "broken heart syndrome", saying the shock of knowing something dreadful had sent me, essentially speaking, into a cardiac arrest or heart-attack like state, where I lost consciousness. They told me that the condition isn't usually fatal and that I'd recover in at least a couple of weeks but to be weary, as, to their observations, my health was questionable. They told me they would keep me for about a few days and offered to contact the authorities to inform them of my condition and that I wouldn't be able to provide them with information. They offered their condolences and told me I'd have visitors.

The others had come, Nonon asking what the doctors had said, to which I told her I'd have to stay for a few days and, apparently, for the sake of arguments, my sister's suicide attempt and note had almost killed me. Uzu, confused but figuring this could cheer me up, asked me if I'd like to see the babies my sister had, reminding me that, through cruel circumstance, they were mine. Absently, I replied that I would like to, in which, I was handed a couple of photos he found while rifling through my mail.

The baby, Seigyoku or, as the orphanage which took her in called her, "Ruri" was healthy in appearance, playing with toys, and, sure enough, as Kanna's captors described her, she was pretty, very much so, much like her mother. The toddler called, "Yayoi", however, interestingly, I guess I couldn't ignore the fact that Yayoi looked as though she could have been mine, which is to say, as if I begat her myself. Of course, she did resemble her mother, obviously, however, she looked quite like me. I guess in some faction they both did, as to someone observant, it's clear that Kanna and I are sisters.

Distantly, I felt the entities of those other girls watching, quietly observing. It seemed they were protective, almost, guarding us in the room from unseen dangers of sorts. While they protecting, they couldn't protect us or stop of what was to come in a few days.

------------------------

Authoress Notes: As I noted in the foreword, I'm sorry for any inaccuracies.

Anywho, back to the story. Some parts of this chapter has a bit of winging when it comes to the Japanese system in regard to child welfare and adoption. According to what I did research, technically, on some end, Yayoi and Ruri wouldn't be eligible for adoption because they have a relative (i.e Satsuki) who can take them in if she chooses and Ryuuko (addressed as "Kanna", for those who are confused) hadn't really given them up (according to this, the parents have to be the ones to sign over the kids, unless otherwise), however, sources do differ on this, as according to one source, the two would fit criterion for being eligible for adoption because they were found abandoned and, besides a DNA test, no one claimed them.

So, yes, for plotline reasons, some bit of that has to be winged and because the research, while somewhat extensive, was limited, it was. The sort of issue in the story with child custody hadn't been quite addressed by the articles I've read, so I was left assuming this sort of scenario would, theoretically, play out, as Ryuuko can't take care of herself and Satsuki, through some means and circumstance, has power of attorney, in which case, she has to act like a legal guardian and thus has a say in what happens in to the babies.

Music Playing: Deep Blue by Jia Peng Fang

After a few days, I was deemed well-enough but fragile, however, that didn't mean I could evade the authorities, as they wanted answers. They came to visit me at my home. I don't recall what I've said but I do know I've said little and just simply handed them the notebook, replying that her notebook was her recountings of what she experienced, including the image she described so vividly, along with that he made her sleep with him. They left my home taking the notebook with them. I would be left alone for some time. I don't recall how long but it can be said that it was long enough for me to reevaluate some things.

I was thrown back to her suicide attempt and her reasons for why she wanted to die. I couldn't blame her, even knowing that I'd be alone without her, however, I regret not seeing the signs. I wondered if I had wished that to occur in some way, preferring that death would have been preferable than to live with physio and psychological trauma of what she went through, thus, why she attempted to end her own life. I should note that she wanted to die just to save me from what she would have thought of as further suffering, regardless, she didn't want to leave me alone, yet couldn't bring herself to take me with her.

Usually, she'd fight against something she couldn't stand be it how I ruled my school or who got a turn with the remote (I've taken a few kicks to the shin for that and similar matters) but her being hospitalized in a psychiatric ward was something she didn't fight. I would anticipate her kicking and screaming, begging me not to let them take her, but she didn't. As said before, something within her knew she couldn't fight that and, perhaps, in her mind, she was saving me yet again.

As I thought about what happened those five days ago, I'm brought back to thinking about the babies, Yayoi and Ruri. Uzu neglected to tell me as to how he found those photos rifling through my mail, as, said photos came with a file on either of the girls. While they were both well-cared for, there were some differences between them in terms of how.

Yayoi was withdrawn and generally seemed to be unhappy, according to her file. They didn't know how old she was but she was assumed to be about two or three and, along with being solitary and unhappy, she never spoke, well, sort of, she made a noise but that was about it. She didn't interact well with the other children, of course, with incident where she was described as biting one of the other children. I could describe as being "feral" almost like her mother and, apparently, at the orphanage, she was a not a favorite and, thus, she was isolated.

Ruri, in her file, was described as constantly wanting cuddles and things, typical things that babies might want. It seemed the orphanage would be less inclined to hand her over as she was quite nice, her carers describing her as a "darling". Frankly, I think all babies are darlings in some way shape or form but I would suppose they found her especially endearing. She wasn't quite bonded with anyone but would be open to being held and, in typical infant fashion, she doesn't like to share. Whoever picked her up just couldn't resist holding her and neither did they want to put her down once they picked her up.

Honestly, I couldn't easily picture that, as, besides age and paternity, there wasn't too much that made them any different from one another, yet, they were treated differently. I knew very little about orphanages but I didn't want them to lead a rather miserable existence, as they were innocent to it all. As I thought of that, I recalled what happened to their mother and the fact I didn't have a choice but to let her go and, in the case of her children, I was the one who had the power to decide what happened to them, however, while I had the authority, I felt as though I had to choose between my sister or her children and, as fate would have had it, I couldn't have both. I wanted justice, a due punishment for horrendous actions committed upon others, and, yet, quietly I wanted revenge on my sister's captors for stealing her from me and their abuses leading to her current mental state.

I owed it to her to find her justice but was I really participating in the investigation for her and previous victims' sake or was I doing it for what I wanted in a sense of revenge and misplaced atonement for past sins? Some half of me said I was doing it out of justice, while another part of me suggested I did it out of revenge. I knew not which side to agree with. I wished my sister was there so I could ask her what she thought but, in wondering what she'd think, I'd quite realized that I was alone in more senses than one.

I was alone because my sister I was forced to let go. Letting her go was for the best but, in the end, I was alone. I remembered, prior to this, I would ask her as to what her opinion was. It didn't matter what the reasons as to why, it was just the fact that I almost always could. She, in some ways more so than the Elite Four, became my confidante and, in moments leading up to her suicide attempt, I was hers, as she, in her trauma, couldn't speak to anyone else. In the end, she wanted to go but didn't want to leave me alone, thus, she made herself to be the "sacrifice" so I could go on. I left myself asking how I could go on without her there when my greatest reason for fighting was her. To be sans her, certainly, would have deprived me of any will to continue.

I was alone because my own mental state made it so. My thoughts and motives were chaos and I couldn't pick between them and neither did I truly know what my motives for participating in the investigation. I alternated between assuming they were based around revenge and believing them to be for justice. Something within couldn't reconcile my motives being a combination of both and it seemed like it had to be one or the other, leaving me to wonder if I had been selfish. Something told me that I was being selfish because I wanted revenge and, despite her wanting to die, I saved her anyway, while something told me that there had to be justice. To have conflicting thoughts made its own prison, especially knowing that she was the one who suffered the most.

They, Yayoi and Ruri, are her children. She gave birth to them and, yet, despite that, having lost her to mental illness and circumstance, I couldn't consult her as to what I should do with them. As said before, I couldn't quite picture myself as a mother and Kanna is quite young to be a mother or, rather, a bit young to consider motherhood, regardless if she was mentally ill. I pitied them and my heart, like it did for their mother, wept for them and the possible existence they could have. They didn't deserve any of this, and neither did they ask to be born nor conceived in violence. I could find some relief in that the orphanages in which they stay don't know the circumstances of their conception and birth because to know such a thing would make it worse on them, especially since children in orphanages are not guaranteed to be pleasant. I want very much to protect them but, yet, I am not sure how. Still, bitterly, I felt I had to choose between them and their mother and, odds are, circumstances won't permit me to have both.

Ironically, I found myself voicing these aloud, having something of an awkward conversation. After some time of this, I found someone answering back. A voice called out. This voice wasn't familiar, at least, not to how I'd think it'd be. It was a female voice, one probably fitting that of a child's, and I assumed her to be a voice of a victim. She seemed to know what was going on and voices beyond the grave seemed to be good at giving at advice. I found myself listening intently to what she was saying, almost as though she was she an old friend a mentor. She was willing to listen and offer comfort, along with her advice.

I reiterated that I was unwell and how I felt to which she replied that she knew and asked how could I not be feeling unwell, especially when I didn't know what to do. She told me that I was protecting my sister by letting her go, that I didn't love her any less, and it wasn't her or my fault any of this happened, however, she did point out that I had my own personal issues to acknowledge, my own cross to bear, and to leave them buried would make them a detriment. She told me that I was ill in a few ways but reassured me that I could become well again. In terms of the babies, she told me that I could give them something no one else could and, if I couldn't care for them myself, then I knew someone who could take my place.

Speaking to this unseen presence felt comforting, yet like a dream. It was surreal but, at least for a spell, I had someone to talk to, someone to whom I could ask opinions and gain some clarity in how I could conduct things. I then supposed that I would have her made a permanent resident and that I could take care of her children, giving them a normal life, a life neither one of us had. As I thought about that, I would find myself sorting through the effects of my dealings with that form of abuse.

I remembered how my sister would watch videos on the YouTube or somesuch, so I found myself being drawn to a laptop I hadn't quite used in a long time, often without any sort of reason. Instinctively, I probed around the video site before coming across a short film. It was animated and some would deem me childish for viewing it but was it relevant to how I was feeling.

It was titled Amy. The description was a vague one but the animation was self-explanatory. The film showed a little girl in red, washing the dishes, going about her daily happenings, and feeding her cat, watching the doorway to a room with caution. This "Amy" character I found interesting but relatable. She was powerless, initially, frightened of something or, rather, someone, reminding me of when I was a child and how I was powerless to stop anything from happening to me. I was afraid, much like she, and silently pleaded for whatever was happening to stop or how it'd be something else, how the predator would be distracted. As I watched, I pictured myself in her place, powerless and afraid, while a predator dominated my life. However, unlike Amy, it would take years since childhood to take revenge, yet the effects still lingered.

Years later, I still hated to think about it, so I shoved it away, leaving it to haunt me other ways. It's an utter mystery as to how I didn't wind up in the same the place my sister was, then again, as said before, I had time to get used to it, regardless of the pain, bleedings, and nightmares I got. I felt dirty and I blamed myself. Years passed since it first began, and I still replay a memory over and over. I was powerless, weak, and afraid. I wanted them to stop and I couldn't make them. I told no one of the worst of it, of how Ragyo told me I had to "learn some things" and how her lackeys told me they wanted to have "fun" with me, along with that I was "pretty". If I recall, I had no one to save me, no one to make it stop, no one to hear any cries or whimpers for help, and how I wanted to die, just to escape it all.

I was seething, feeling years of sorrow and rage come to the surface, as each memory came back, one by one. I recalled how I begged them to stop and that I was silenced, then I remembered what happened to my sister, how I always yearned to protect her. Old wounds had begun to tear anew. She had no one to rescue her and she was forced into deplorable acts, time and time again. I could imagine her screaming, weeping, begging for mercy, yet none came. Someone told her she was "pretty" and they showed her how pretty she was in such a vile way. She blamed herself for why this all happened. While she didn't want to leave me alone, I could see why she wanted to die and why she wanted to take me with her, as what happened to her carried a stigma and she could feel my pain and sorrow. She wanted it all to go away and, yet, in the end, despite saving her, I was forced to let her go.

Quietly, still, I asked her forgiveness. Forgiveness for not protecting her and forgiveness for not knowing what really to do.

-----------

Authoress Note: Well, I don't often explore my headcanons but since this chapter delves a little bit more into that whole thing with Ragyou and Satsuki, I thought I'd put a note here. I'm not going to a go whole lot into them but, I will say, thinking about it at the moment, that Ragyo doesn't strike me as someone who'd stop at just molestation, no, she'd prolly have gone further than that (there is a lot in the show we just don't see).

Music Playing: Balcony by Exist Strategy

It had been some time since the authorities last spoke with me and since I had last seen my sister. The entities were quieter, but they still lingered. I still wrestled with myself as to whether or not to visit the babies and or remove them from the orphanages in which they stay. By now, I had felt more unwell, mental symptoms starting to manifest as physical. I suppose what was causing them to manifest was overwhelming feelings and dread combined with the stress of not knowing anything.

I found myself sitting by the phone, running fingers through my hair, anticipating a phone call from either the mental hospital in which Kanna was sent or the authorities to ask for more info. On one such day of this odd "routine", I found myself ripping out a clump of my hair. It was barely felt and I had opted to take a mental note of the color in which it was starting to turn. It was turning to something of a gray, making it look like an ombré. I was always noted to be pale but, in glancing at my fist full of brittle hair, I noticed I had looked rather sick, especially since I could peek at my veins. As I was oft told, stress can do things to a person and, certainly, I would have been a fool to doubt that.

I should note that, besides the instances of waiting for phone calls, I hadn't anticipated contact, leaving me ill, isolated, and alone. This would change when the routine was broken by Mako's sudden visit. Usually, she'd be cheerful or such but, this time, she looked solemn, as she understood something. I had forgotten how empty life may have been for her, as she had no friends besides imaginary ones, so, as losing her was something we could easily connect over.

What happened next was something of a blur, as I recall so little, just the fact that I was being dressed and then being taken somewhere. I found us in front of a pane of glass, a window to a large, padded room with a bed and few things. The room was clean, and its only splashes of color were a bed with children's comforter and stuffed animal on it and a pair of red slippers. "I wanted it to feel more like home for her, while she stayed..." I heard Mako say.

In the corner, I spied her, her mess of white-turning-black hair streaked with red covering her face. She sat there for a little while before coming to the window and placing her hand spread flat on the glass. I found myself instinctively returning the action, directly over hers, as if we were holding hands once again. She could feel us there and it had been what felt like years since we had last seen her.

We were like that for a good while before Mako placed her hand over mine and visiting hours ended. As Mako pulled me away, I caught her looking her up, cracking a mournful, tearful, wry smile as she pulled her hand away from the glass, resigning herself to her fate, yet content that she had seen me again. It was a quiet reminder of so much she had stolen from her and what she couldn't regain. The asylum, while a different one from where she was sent, could most likely become her home now and where she'd remain, however, she was well cared for and I would assume reasonably content.

When I was brought back home, it seemed that Mako had decided to look after me, like a nurse would do with a terminally ill patient, except I wasn't dying, sort of. Mako explained that she had made progress and, while they weren't sure of releasing her to my custody, they transferred her to a residential facility, along with that the orderlies usually keep her in her room and visitors, for the time being, are only allowed to interact with her from behind a pane of bulletproof glass. "She really missed you and, even though she doesn't talk, I'm pretty sure she's wondering if you'd be okay. Seeing you again, after a while, made her day." Mako said, in a soft voice, before she voiced that she missed her just as much as I did but, regardless, told me that my sister didn't want us to cry over her.

"She said so, in her note, 'Don't cry over me, I'll be okay', so she doesn't want anyone to cry over her. Of course, we can't help that but I think she just wants you to be okay. Your inner kid, like hers, has been hurt awhile, but yours never had anyone or anything to make her better, so she stayed curled up and to herself so no one or nothing could hurt her again. Regardless if she was sent away or attempted to the easy way out, she still thinks about you and just wants you to be okay." she said, brushing at my thinning hair.

In that eccentric and oft befuddled brain of hers, she was correct.

Mako never went home and her company, much like the ghosts, I had welcomed. It still felt strange not to have Kanna there but it was something both us put up with, despite the fact that, in some way, her presence still lingered. Life somewhat continued as to authorities did stop by to ask me questions, along with delivering news that prosecution will continue forward and that others have been jailed.

Aside from that, our days were quiet and we talked about little besides how Kanna might have been doing, as visiting times with her weren't often. One day was different, instead, of talking about Kanna, Mako brought up the topic of her babies, saying, "You know you could see them." It caught me off guard, of course, as I didn't think that this time wasn't a good time to see them, let alone think about them, as they didn't need to be dragged into chaos but, nevertheless, she thought the matter of the children to be important.

Again, I would deem her rather correct, but I could never bring myself to visit them, no matter what I felt. I decided to come clean and, with all honesty, I told her that I couldn't bring myself to visit them and neither could I see myself as a mother because of my own experiences with mine. I told her that I didn't really know what to do with her children but I didn't wish a miserable existence upon them and that I sincerely hoped they could have a better life than either I or my sister had.

Mako listened intently before saying, "Well, only you can give them a happy life because orphanages don't substitute for real families." I was perplexed and thus I asked as to how I could, to which she responded that, well, if I couldn't take care of them myself, then, surely, her family could and, if I wanted, I could visit them whenever I wanted. "At least, they'd have someone to take care of them, along with that they'd have some family to look forward to." she concluded, "You should visit them, surely, at least, if you visited, then you'd know what you want to do."

With her guidance by hand and after searching around, I went to visit the babies. The first one I visited was Ruri, who had quite taken to me. She gave me a look of reverence, yet with curiosity, before reaching up to touch my face and grabbing at my hair, becoming confused when strands came out in her chubby fist. Usually, touches like this would put me off but, as I can tell, this case was different, as I found myself at ease with her presence. Likewise, she seemed to quite enjoy mine, confusion notwithstanding, and becoming at upset when I had to leave, the workers commenting on how she never quite opened as much as she did when I held her. It was odd, certainly, however, a connection couldn't be denied.

After visiting with her, Mako took me to visit Yayoi. Like seeing her mother, Kanna, sometime before, the child stood with her back turned in the corner of a large room. She wore white and her hair was messy with a barrette. True to her file, she was isolated and so lived isolated. Company and visitors were alien to her, so approaching us was something she hesitated. She was suspicious, walking circles around us. Up until a certain point, she was quiet before she grunted, the tone of which was inquisitive, leaving me to pick up on something. Apparently, the orphanage workers never actually quite understood the depth of the child's problem, said problem being that she seemed to have a degree of deafness, if not being speech impaired, thus exacerbating whatever hindrances she would have to a normal life. Her pain was something I could feel, as she was alone, truly, especially since she could barely communicate her needs and wants effectively. In recovering this knowledge, I felt my rage burning from within at the orphanage's lack of care and their wanting to isolate the problem, rather than help deal with it, myself considering it doubly cruel of her circumstance.

When we returned home, Mako sat me on the sofa, asking me, "So, have you figured out what you wanted to do?" I told her something to somewhat affirm what I thought about seeing them, asking so many questions, to which she listened to. I asked so many questions

When I had tired, she, with sagelike wisdom, answered, "Well, you'd have to be somewhat honest with how you tell them about their mother but you don't have to tell them everything, just tell that their mother loved them and that is why they aren't with her, after all, that is really all they need to know. In terms of Ryuuko seeing them, well, she might like to but, while seeing you made her day, she's still reminded of what she's lost. Her sanity is gone, as are most of her memories, and, odds are, where she is will be where she stay, but, at least, she'll get some closure as to what had happened to them, even if said closure comes from behind bulletproof glass."

She then went on to say that, by aiding the investigation, I was saving my sister's children and many others from such a horrid fate. Sure, as she put it, I could not eliminate all people that are horrid but I was doing the world a favor by ensuring punishment by aiding in putting this group away, so many others won't be claimed and that many still alive can have their chances at liberation, stating that there was a reason my sister had survived, life fibers be damned. "In the end, she trusted you and, so, she leaves you to take care of everything." she said, handing me a cup of tea.

"Drink that, it'll make you strong." she said, something that sounded nonsensical.

Music playing: Pale by Exist Strategy (mostly the latter parts)

Sometime after that, I found myself allowing custody of my sister to be taken from me by the psychiatric residential facility. Need won over whatever either of us could want but all wasn't entirely lost, as I still had partial power of attorney. It had to be done, much like many things, but, to some degree, I could find peace with this decision just as she had. Still, we could not embrace, so we were left seeing each other from behind a pane of glass.

Slowly, with Mako's help, I started to recover and found myself visiting my sister's children more often, letting the connection grow a bit more. Much like their mother, I wanted very much for them to be happy and they deserved to be happy, regardless of the circumstances of their conception and birth. Sadly, like the circumstances between my sister and myself, any interaction with their mother would likely come from behind a pane of glass, which is to say, it won't be too much in which to look forward to but, while it's little, it certainly isn't nothing, at least, that is how Mako would have put it, referring the same to my visitations with my sister's children, telling me that they have something to look forward to.

Nevertheless, she did remind me that, if I were to fully care for anyone, then I could only accomplish that effectively by taking care of myself. She never did say how I was to do this but I figured she probably meant that I had to come to terms with the past and let it pass. At first, I wanted to bury my sufferings away but something within told me I could tell Mako what I had gone through, especially since she offered a listening ear and swore herself to secrecy.

So, with hesitance, I told her almost everything I hadn't told anyone of my own dealings with abuse of that kind. She listened to each and every last thing I had said and, yet, despite my fears of being judged or such, she understood, offering comfort the only way she knew how. She embraced me, telling me it was alright and that none of that was my fault, stating I was a child and, while I was a smart one, I was still a child, one who was innocent to any real wrongdoing, learning about the wrongdoing in such a horrible way, yet she still reassured me that it was over now and that I won't be harmed again. She then told me that my pain was too great to leave buried for so long and that strength came in odd forms, in which case, I was even stronger because I told her what I had through, no matter how painful it was. "Not many can look into the dark and turn back without dying. You looked into the dark and turned back to survive." she said.

Later that day, as it was nearing twilight, Mako sat next to me. A movie, the title I don't remember, was playing and the old woman character was bringing the fox to the forest, as a somber tune played. As we watched this scene play out, Mako turned to me and said, "She's not entirely gone, you know. She's still here, in our memories, and, in those memories, is where she'll always be." It was odd certainly but she was right. The sister I knew was lost to cruel circumstance, trauma, and mental illness, leaving me with rather bittersweet memories of times before. At least, I could recall what the last thing I had said to her before she had departed,...

"I love ya', Sis, see ya' later."

"I love you, too, Imouto, see you soon."

...leaving me with some relief that she knew I loved her before undergoing four years of horrendous treatment. Deep within, she still knew, yet was at peace with my (forced) choice of letting her go. It stung remembering what we've had stolen from us and what we've lost but, in the end, before she was taken, she knew that I still loved her. I would suppose that bit of knowledge had kept her alive despite circumstances trying to kill her. I had missed her and wanted her back but, in the end, I couldn't have her, however, at least, I, with some effort, came to peace that she'll be alright and is well protected, even if I could only see her from behind a pane of glass.

I told Mako this and asked her if she said anything similar to my sister prior to her disappearance, four years ago. The brunette searched her memory, recalling that she said, "Bon voyage." or some-such and that they talked a bit over the phone roughly a week or so before she disappeared. Reassuringly, she told me that my sister didn't mention anything troubling and stated that her trip was going fine, leaving us both content that she was enjoying herself prior to those four years of horrendous treatment. While she enjoyed herself before those horrific four years, it hurt remembering that she won't recall that. I recalled that I promised her that I'd keep her memories.

In my mind, in films of bittersweet memories, I'd still have the boisterous tomboyish impulsive girl that I had come to know as my sister. In reality, in her mentally ill state, while she was no longer the same, something couldn't be shattered and it was that, like before, she was someone I yearned so much to protect. I would think of her as beautiful and, certainly, she is and always will be, how so tragic and horrific that someone decided to use her beauty against her, use it for their own means to an end, leaving me to wonder as to why. If I recall, evil had no explanation and what happened to her didn't need one. Forgiveness could not be done, yet, in an odd scheme, I wondered if retribution was even justifiable by what he did to her.

A little after that, I decided to gather the two, Yayoi and, her baby sister, Ruri, feeling they should see their mother. Like usual she was there and, the moment she sensed me, she was at that window, hair draped over her face. For a moment, she glanced up towards us, before placing both of her hands on the glass, eyeing us in curiosity, before cracking a melancholic smile. Even though she wasn't speaking, her actions alone told of what she was feeling, even if it be laced with melancholy. All three of us held her hands through glass.

Visiting hours ended with her glancing up again before pulling away, with a tear rolling down her face, cracking a smile, different than the previous one. It was a smile of contentment, one based around trust, one based around relief. She was content that I was recovering and, while she was relieved that her babies were alright, she knew she may never hold them. I had often wondered what her opinion would have been and, in that moment, it seems, without words, she trusted me to look after them.

Later that day, Mako asked me as to what I've wanted to do with the babies. I told her about our visit with Kanna and, for once, in a moment of brevity, how she didn't look sad, instead relieved and contented. I told her of how she entrusted her babies to me and did so without speaking. Despite not remembering giving birth to one, I told of how she acknowledged them both, to which Mako pointed out that it's possible she did remember giving birth to both of them and, in her trauma, she got them confused, thus thinking she had one, after all, it was dark and, when she gave birth, she only saw their eyes before they were taken away.

This choice would a be difficult one, as I had formed a connection with them but I wasn't well. I'd be doing them and my sister a disservice by leaving to the orphanages' care. As I ruminated more on what to do, I recalled what Mako had said about her family being willing to look after them. Surely, in my ill state, I knew I could trust them to look after the girls while I couldn't, not at this time.

A few days since visiting my sister, I made arrangements for Mako's family to look after the girls, while I recovered my health and mental state.

Once again, I found myself going back to the hospital. According to Mako, something unsettling had caused me to faint and it was news that someone had come forward with information regarding the investigation. The press didn't say exactly who this person was but simply gave the pseudonym "Rin" and that they were female. Apparently, what she knew came in the form of letters signed and phone calls with someone naming themselves with the aforementioned pseudonym. The woman hasn't revealed herself fully or her connections to the investigation besides what she knew and neither could her phone number or her letters be tracked, as her letters had no return address and her number came up disconnected by the phone service.

Obviously, the authorities were confused but nevertheless considered the intel to be vital to the case, considering that several of the details had matched key ones in the case. I felt tempted to search for this "Rin" but I feared as to who she could be, along with that I didn't want to put her or myself in danger. Naturally, once we returned home, Mako and I found ourselves speculating as to who this "Rin" could be but our speculations didn't come to any plausible conclusions, so we had to conclude that, whoever, she was, she knew what she knew and probably risked dearly for it, making her revelations her sacrifice.

About a few weeks later, I found myself going back into the hospital by again something in regards to something in the news. Once again, I had Mako tell me what had happened, saying that they were moving forward with the case and, apparently, they found out who the mysterious "Rin" was. The mysterious "Rin" was his wife and she was overwhelmed with guilt. Regardless of what she may have feared, she came forward and threw her husband to the authorities, likewise, for being an accomplice, she seemed willing to face any punishment just so long as her husband was put away.

I would suppose our pain was shared as, through cruel circumstances, we lost loved ones and had our lives shattered. However, the written article made her plight worse, as twenty-three years she stayed married to this man and, clearly, she had grown to hate him for all that he's done. Accomplice or not, I could arbor no anger as to why she stayed silent for so long. I couldn't blame her for that, clearly, as, if she's hated him enough to betray him, then I could only wonder as to what he may have done to her during those 23 years. I could only imagine of what things she may have witnessed and known over those 23 years. Perhaps, she tried telling of what she knew and was dismissed as though she was some madwoman or that her husband had destroyed the evidence. Perhaps, her fears made her silent. Either way, she's hated him enough to sell him out to the authorities, regardless if she was in danger.

Sometime afterward, about a few days, the authorities asked me to come in, saying that someone would like to speak to me. I didn't need to guess as to who wanted to talk to me but I was still curious of her motives. In a room, under their watch, I saw her, "Rin", a quiet middle-aged woman with graying hair tied back in a messy bun and dressed as though she were mourning, wearing a black veil and such, widow's weeds. She started the conversation off by asking if I was well, making verbal note of what I was wearing (a simple muted blue dress with a red wrap, white slips, with a locket), and giving her apologies, along with condolences, all sincere.

I asked her why, even though, to some extent, within, I had already known. She responded, "I couldn't be silent any longer, surely, so, after so many years too many, I had to atone for my sins of silence and that was to hand that wicked, disgusting, horrible man over to the authorities. Betraying matrimonial loyalty is one thing but to silently betray innocent lives is another. He, that one, is covered in blood but my hands is covered in the blood of my silence because so many girls met their ends. In my mind, I could hear them all crying out for help and mercy, begging for him and the others to stop. I just couldn't stay silent, so I decided to cast him into hell, even though I know I may join him, too."

We conversed and I offered my condolences as to how hard that was for her, to which she said, "Ie. Hard for me because I let him continue for so long, knowing my silence costed so many dearly. As you can tell, I married him but, obviously, I despise him with whatever fiber is left in my being. He brought me, just as easily as he sold them." I didn't ask for further questions, but her eyes answered what I would have wanted to ask. I would suppose she spoke metaphorically about being "brought", as in, through marriage, he brought her soul, chaining her to a long line of guilt, while he sold those girls' and my sister's bodies to be used.

In a sense, I would compare her to our father, of how he, through being married to and having lain with our mother, was stained with the blood of her sins and how he tried to atone, sacrificing greatly just to achieve those ends. I would suppose he's probably at peace, knowing that atonement came. Had this woman come to peace with her "sins of silence"? Clearly, she had to have come to peace with this as she atoned for her silence. In the lingering silence, I could feel that, in her opinion, she had little left to lose and I had realized that what she felt wasn't in opinion, it was in fact, as she had already lost so much and, if she was to go to prison for her silence, then, by all means, as long as her silence was absolved, she would accept the price paid.

Silently, we connected over a shared loss and what was stolen. He'd stolen twenty-three years of her life and, likewise, he's stolen four years of my sister's. While we sat in silence, across from each other, we had an odd conversation of sorts, the which had her agreeing that her husband had stolen more than what she could have known or, rather, more than what she hoped could have remained. She came to conclusion I guess because how my eyes looked or the dark circles underneath them, the which had not started to fade. After some silence, she asked, "Are they well?" At first, I was confused but then I realized that she was talking about my sister's children, in which I case, I answered that they were, to which she said, "Then I know, in their case, that I had atoned."

Her words were cryptic but I could tell what she had meant. I took it that her husband wanted her to get rid of them, thus he handed them to her to do a dirty deed, yet, she refused, instead leaving the babies to be found. I recall asking her if she had any children to which she told, "He wouldn't let me keep them."

"Wouldn't let you keep them?"

"No, he wouldn't. He'd force me to get rid of them before their births and he'd hit me until they died. Like her, the girl, 'Koko', as I would mentally call her, I had one that made it and, instead of one, I had twins but I didn't really see them so I haven't a clue as to what had happened to either of them. He doesn't know that I had them and I never conceived again."

"…."

"He's committed the worst crime of it all."

"Hmm….?"

"Thievery. He's stolen my chances of happiness and family, he's stolen futures, he's stolen girls from their loved ones, he's stolen children away their mothers, and he's stolen your sister's life. I see that she was likely a rather happy girl and I dread knowing what become of her in the aftermath."

We talked for a while and, as I was leaving, she placed something in my hand. It was a bag, inside of which was my sister's red scarf and silver bracelet, the two accessories to the last outfit I had seen her in. The woman had wished me well and other little bits of somewhat motherly advice, advice she'd probably give to her own children had she been allowed to keep them.

Music Playing: Constantine's Theme by Thomas Newman

When Mako brought me home, I found more and more bittersweet memories returning. They were bitter because they were a reminder of what was lost, what was stolen, however, they were sweet because, in the end, while they don't substitute, at least, the memories I had of her immortalized the girl she once was. Even though this woman had virtually nothing to live for, I would find myself contented that returned those in which belonged to my sister, along with maintaining them so well.

As I found my hand petting the scarf, I was thrown back to when I could see the snowflakes falling from my window, while pondering as to what present I should give my sister. I recall that I couldn't really think of anything at the moment before coming to the conclusion that I should knit a scarf for her. I suppose I had knitted it a bit too long or wide but she didn't mind, considering how she proceeded to drape it over her head and shoulders, commenting on how warm it felt, along with thanking me for making it for her. I recall that she never stopped wearing it, regardless if the seasons changed, and it was an exceptional sight for to be seen without it. Wherever she went, through the scarf, I went with her.

In thinking of that, I found myself drawn to the bracelet. It was something small but she loved it. Mako had brought it for her, so that, if I wore my birthday necklace, we would match. Of course, like the scarf, she wore it almost always and half of her outfits incorporated it somehow. I recalled that I once had a silver bracelet that looked very much like hers, only with faux jewels, and, once, the last time I had worn it, she wore her bracelet, too, making us a matching set, a set that would be incomplete without the other. Holding that bracelet in my hand made me realize how incomplete I was.

I wasn't familiar with residential psychiatric facilities or their policies but I wanted her to have something. Surely, a scarf couldn't do harm and it's not as though she could or would attempt to harm herself with it versus if I had given her the bracelet. Later, after some persuasion, I visited her, making contact from behind that pain of glass, all while insisting that her nurse give her the scarf, stating that it'd mean a lot to her. For a moment, as she received the scarf, she removed her hand from the glass, while she draped it around her head and shoulders, like she did the winter she had received.

Clutching the scarf with one hand and placing her hand back on the glass, it seemed she was trying to speak, in which case, faintly, through the glass, I heard the name, "Sis..." For the most part, she never spoke but, in a moment of remembering, she broke her silence. In that moment, I could feel her hand pressing the glass harder, as though she were trying to break it. Tears were streaming down our faces and, if we could have broken that window, we would have, if it meant we could embrace. I had already had the nurse make exceptions for us just so she could have her treasured red scarf but, no matter how much we wanted to, we knew I couldn't ask the nurse to break code and allow us just one brief moment of embrace.

We were embracing through glass, until I was informed that time was up and she had to go to bed, leaving me to tell her, "Good night, Ryuuko."

The next morning, the director of the facility told me that she slept well, wrapped in that scarf.

Music Playing: Broken Moon (Piano) by TAMusic

A couple of days since our visit with Kanna, I found myself being taken to Mako's house. I haven't seen them since I had brought them there, surely, I've left them in capable hands. The moment her eyes caught sight of me, I found Yayoi greeting me with tight embrace. Besides her missing me, my absence seemed not to affect her profoundly, not as much as the fact that she was taken from a horrid environment. Here, with the Mankanshokus, she was thriving, more so than she would have been at the orphanage. Likewise, so was the baby, Ruri, who was equally content, seemingly even found a playmate with Mataro and the dog.

"They've been quite good," Sukuyo said, "and Yayoi really likes lots of sweet things, almost never stopping at anything to get them, determined little thing." Likewise, she told me that the baby, Ruri, sleeps soundly with something of her mother's with her, in which case, said something being her mother's bunny pajama shirt, the which she used as a blanket. I would think of that pajama shirt as being the closest thing she had to her mother's embrace.

Still, Yayoi remained silent, well, she doesn't say any words, just that she vocalized, however, what I hadn't regarded was that she seemed to have learned to gesture, using the signs as means to communicate. She didn't have many of them, but she communicated her point, once I managed to understand whatever context she would use them in. I would find myself learning these signs, having an odd conversation of sorts. According to her, she would like some chocolate, asking if I had any, and that it was sunny outside, to which I gave simple responses.

I opted to take them out for the day, just so they could see the world they would grow up in. It was but an outing, however, spending the day with them never hurt. We saw lots of sights and things. I should note that they found some beauty in the world since neither of them had much a chance to enjoy an outing and that, despite it all, they remained innocent to its wickedness, it's cruelty. In acknowledging this, I wondered if, perhaps, the babies could bring back some sense of beauty to my cruel and nasty world. As I thought about this, I wondered if I was being selfish for wanting to regain what was stolen from me by being curious if the babies could bring back the beauty that was lost in my life.

In wondering this, I figured, perhaps, I should try to regain it myself, rather than steal it from someone else. Likewise, I wanted to protect them from the world's cruelty but, in wanting to protect, I quickly realized that it would be selfish to protect them from the inevitable cruelty and hardships of life, regardless if the motives behind them well-intentioned, leaving me to settle on the fact that I couldn't allow them to fall prey to the circumstances they were conceived in nor should I allow them to face the same stigma their mother will indubitably suffer outside of mental home.

After a day of amusement, I brought them back, bidding them good night. Of course, I found myself staying a little longer, as Yayoi wasn't very keen on letting me leave, so I stayed until I was sure she had fallen asleep.

I made a resolve that I wouldn't keep my absences lengthy.

It seems the case had drifted further from my mind than I would have thought, the thoughts of them falling through the cracks of my mind between visiting Ryuuko, visiting her babies (it seems I am quite the doting aunt), and recovering from any mental and physical health problems. Having divulged all the information I had, they had seemingly left me alone, vanishing like a nightmare.

Reality has a nasty way of making its reacquaintance, in which case, it did. The case hasn't ended, actually, it was agreed by the prosecutor and the police that it would be taken to court, thus the former decided to visit me in person to inform me of such, asking if I'd be willing to testify. Absently, without thinking, I told them that I was willing, oral or otherwise. They left and I was thanked for my time.

When the day of trial came before lay judges, at Mako's ushering, I walked into the courtroom. It was the morning and I dressed plainly in mourning dress and a gossamer veil. I was interrogated, asked a barrage of questions, only speaking when spoken to, keeping the answers honest, consistent, coherent, brief, and to the point. They deliberated and, a week later, they came back with the verdict of guilty, moving the case to higher court.

It took a few months and, by that point, Yayoi was close to four or five and Ruri was one. Still, I couldn't visit Ryuuko without a pane of glass betwixt us, however, some of her came back but I know that the rest will be forever lost, regardless, we were grateful we could see each other at all.

The trial proceeded to high court. I felt strange walking into the courtroom. It was though I was walking into an execution. Perhaps, considering the depth of his crimes, he could receive death, regardless, he would receive some heavy penalty for his crimes. It seemed almost unreal and distant, as if it was a film and I was playing in it. It was bizarre, almost, and it was clear only my testimony and mine alone would seal his fate. I would, in some bit of my mind, consider myself a sorceress, a powerful figure, and my testimony a spell to curse him for his wickedness or to seal him away. I alone could condemn him.

Like before, I testified, however, I wasn't asked any questions and neither did I keep anything brief. I kept things consistent and to their point but I added more details, never at all shying away from any gore or depravity. My testimony weaved a horrible tapestry stained in blood, painted a dreary grayscale canvas solely in bloodied red ink. I may as well had been spitting a venomous fire in his directions. All else in that courtroom was invisible but the sight of him cringing and writhing I could see in that white void and empty seats.

In that moment, my voice wasn't just mine and neither was my testimony. My voice had the echoes of my sister's, those babies, Rin's, and all the many previous victims dead by his hand. My testimony was theirs as well. I would suppose only I could hear it but it felt powerful, powerful enough to destroy. Once I said all that needed to be heard, my work there was done.

I recall little after I testified against him, just that I was at home, resting on the sofa, with a folded washcloth on my forehead. Mako explained that I was practically unconscious, as, instead of fainting, I had gone into something of a drunken trance, and that she escorted me home. She asked me, besides the trance, if I was alright, to which I affirmed that I was, albeit somewhat. We came to the conclusion that the trial was such a shock

Two days, after the judges had deliberated, to my astonishment and my hopes, they had found him guilty of all counts, giving a rather brutal sentence. I don't recall too much of what it was, just the fact that he wasn't going to be free man. I would suppose the authorities managed to squeeze more information out him as he was being hauled off to prison, as, according to the news, over 400 more girls were liberated, including a fourteen-year old girl called "Mai". Likewise, with enough evidence, the customers, accomplices, and everyone else involved would also be brought to trial.

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Authoress note: Again, sorry for any inaccuracies.

Anywho, um, for this chapter, this was part winging and part research. You see, Japan's trial system is sort of divided into two parts, as, they don't really have a jury system, however, they do have a lay judge system and, if found guilty in lay court, the accused gets moved up to regular criminal court and that particular trial model would depend on whether or not the crime would be suiting to that (it depends on certain crimes but the article wasn't specific).

While I did do the research, I had to kind of interpret what I read and, through a mess of confusion, I may have come out with some inaccuracies.

Music Playing: Ad?Lib by Hiroyuki Sawano

Assumptions, as I should know, do not make the scenario correct. I assumed things would have been resolved, however, I was wrong, as, while he was found guilty and how he, along many others will face punishment, something didn't seem quite right. The ghosts hadn't ascended to the afterlife, actually, they were calmer but they refused to ascend. Likewise, Mako didn't go home, she still stayed, looking after me.

I would deem myself to be in limbo, a plane betwixt two circumstances of existence. I was stuck, in a sense. If I recall, I had lost my sister to mental illness and horrid circumstance, thus, while I had obtained justice for her, there was still the reminder that she was still lost. He took her away and, for that sin, there was no atoning, as Hell can't possibly be hot enough. Even if she is where she'll be safe, we still couldn't embrace. Without her, my life would always be incomplete. I came into the world and had grown up, for the most part, incomplete and I'd die incomplete. Her babies are wonderful and I love them just as she but they'd never replace her.

While I had lost her, I did, through courtroom testimony and participation, obtain justice, fulfilling a mission, keeping a promise. No one else would have to suffer at the hands of this man and his lackeys, however, I still felt guilty. An older sister is supposed to protect and keep their younger sister safe but I failed at that. What happened to her wasn't my fault just as much as it wasn't hers but I still felt like it was. I suppose I wanted her there to tell me that it wasn't and to reassure me like she used to.

In sense, I'd guess, I lost. I won, obviously, but I lost. He's gone, locked away, possibly awaiting execution, never being allowed to hurt anyone again but I felt little fulfillment in that. I could try to move forward and I hoped to, yet, for whatever reason, I found myself unable to. At least, during my journey through Limbo, I'd have someone who'll listen my feelings.

I told Mako that I had felt incomplete. It was plain to see and no explanation as to why was needed, regardless, Mako validated my feelings, saying, "Well, we've lost her and, without her, our lives won't ever be the same with her living her behind a glass window." She then told me that my sister's life was just as incomplete, as she's mentally, lost many of her memories, cannot raise her babies, nor lead a normal life with us again. If anything, it would seem, her life, with her illness and trauma, has achieved normalcy she desperately needed. Of course, the "normalcy" wasn't so much normalcy any more than "stability", as since her return, her life had been anything but stable. At least, I suppose, to either twist the knife further or to ease the pain, she had retained some bits of memories.

The scarf brought back a memory or, rather, some part of one, reminding her of when she was happy at one point. Perhaps, within the shattered pieces and fragments, she could remember something, especially related to that. She probably couldn't remember when or exactly I made the scarf for her but remembered that I made it for her out of love. Even if she could barely remember, she found some solace in knowing that some piece of me could still remain. However, in the same hand of things, she was equally saddened that I couldn't be by her or that things couldn't go back to the way they were, making her rememberings a reminder. Even if we no longer shared the same space, I could still feel her pain.

It seemed I just couldn't reconcile the cruel circumstances that had snatched her away so morbidly. She, like many others, could not have done anything to deserve being brutalized so horrifically for the money and entertainment of others. Within, I wondered as to why she had to suffer the way she did, why fate had to be so cruel to her, her and so many other girls. I wondered if, perhaps, that morbid treatment in which she endured was really supposed to be for me and, in the end, by fate, she was made to be the sacrifice. Her suicide attempt, as I bitterly recall, was her, in a sense, sacrificing herself so I could move on.

I recall, as I spoke to Mako, asking, "Is it possible that what's happened to her was supposed to happen to me and, through cruel fate, she was made to be the sacrifice?" She pondered this for a bit before telling me that she couldn't come up with any real conclusion, suggesting that life makes sacrifices of us all, in which case, she'd be no more of a sacrifice than I or anyone else would be. She told me that the guilt I felt still lingered, especially now, considering that the ringleader of it all is locked away, yet there is nothing that could fix what was done.

As Mako put it, some things take longer to come to terms with.

Sometime after the trial and while Mako was in the living room and I was upstairs, reading, at approximately 12:00 noon, we heard a knock at the door. Mako opened the door and called me downstairs, saying that I had a visitor. I wasn't anticipating this but, regardless of anticipation, I had thrown a bathrobe over my nightgown and straightened out my frazzled hair with my hands as an attempt to look presentable.

My visitor was a girl of about fourteen and, through writing, she introduced herself as "Mai". Through her introduction, it became immediately clear as to who she was. She was the same girl to whom Ryuuko had befriended during her time in captivity. She was with someone to whom I assumed to be her guardian, said guardian stating that Mai wanted to see me but wasn't really sure as to what became of my sister.

Taking my seat on the sofa, I told her what my name was and that Ryuuko currently lives in a residential facility for the mentally ill. The girl understood but, regardless, through her guardian's interpretations, asked if we could see her. I figured we could, regardless if, on this particular weekday, I would normally go to see her a little later.

After I had thrown on something, we had made our way to the hospital where Ryuuko had stayed. For once, she wasn't looming in her corner, actually, she was waiting for us at the pane of glass, barely brushing the wispy black and red locks from her face. Like before, she placed her hand flat on the glass but, this time, her expression was something of brief disbelief before said expression became relief. Through a pane of glass, she reconnected with someone she had never received closure of her fate, said reunion bittersweet. They couldn't converse and neither could they embrace but, regardless, they each received closure. A mountain of guilt, as I could feel was lifted.

Perhaps, from within, underneath the traumatic amnesia, mutism, mental illness, and cruel circumstance, she knew or, to the very least, hoped Mai would come out of that slavery alive. Her relief was mine as well, as this girl is only but a child and neither of us really knew if she was spared or not. Likewise, she didn't really know if Ryuuko, someone she clung to in that time, had survived or if she'd see her again. Through the glass, we embraced for awhile until she pulled away and retreated to her corner.

After that, we went back to my home. I talked awhile with Mai, telling her about Ryuuko's life before and the kind of person she was, before asking if she'd like a something of hers to remember her by. She pondered really hard but couldn't think of much to ask until her eyes caught sight of a teddy bear that Ryuuko often kept on her bed, leaving for her to point to the object.

She left, through interpretations, assuring me that she'd write and, with great sincerity, asking that I'd take care of myself, along with leaving behind her contact information.

As said before, I could never picture myself as a mother and, in her lunacy, Ryuuko couldn't care for her babies. She could see them from behind a pane of glass, yet, she'd never truly bond with them nor embrace them, while I could. I was their aunt, not their mother but Yayoi, it seems, saw otherwise. I suppose I couldn't blame her for that, after all, I was the only thing to whom she could equate with a mother.

Thus, with the limited speech she and the only word I ever heard her vocalizing, she came to me and called me "Mama". I was caught off-guard and, to her, it seemed I didn't hear her clearly, so she repeated what she said. Gently, I went to tell her that I wasn't her mother but, while she understood that, to some extent, she didn't acknowledge it and called me "Mama" anyway. I couldn't convince her otherwise, thus "Mama" I was and "Mama" I'd remain.

I felt my heart weeping at that, considering that was the first thing she's ever verbalized and her biological mother had never got to hear her. I was living the life my sister couldn't, thus, while I was her children's aunt, I had become their mother because circumstances had taken that away from the one who carried and gave birth to them. I would suppose that Yayoi could sense that, considering she called me "Mama".

Her real mother, the one who gave birth to her, would never hear herself being addressed by that name. While my heart wept at the fact of my nieces being absent my sister, their mother, I found some comfort in knowing that, it seems, I wasn't entirely alone, after all. My loss was something, it seemed, she could feel, however, I would have to commend her for her strength to straighten her haphazard world, despite being so young.

Slowly, yet swiftly, I felt several of my wounds heal, as her calling me "Mama" was her way of expressing that she loved and trusted me, as only she could. For the longest, she had no one to really latch onto, no one to really trust, and lived primarily in isolation, her world becoming right when Mako and I had entered it. It was hard to imagine what her life will have been had we not have entered, surely, however, it was just as awful to conceive of how unhappy of an existence she's had before. Before she even had a chance to know her, she was torn away from her mother and the orphanage workers didn't do much to aid her, instead, they shoved her away, kept her in the corner.

Yet, here we are, living in the aftermath of cruel circumstances, circumstances where someone had to be the sacrifice for someone's greed, cruelty, and entertainment. Fate was cruel for stealing her away, yet, it was kind for delivering her children to me. They were conceived and born from cruelty, yet, through unexpected chances, delivered into kindness.

Music Playing: 05-M05 by Yuki Kajiura

We went to see Ryuuko sometime after that. As typical, I expected for her to be behind a pane of glass but, according to the orderlies, they were tidying up her room, so she wasn't in it, however, a nurse did escort us to somewhere else. It was a maze of hallways, but the nurse reassured us that we'd like this little arrangement and said that she had showed some improvement. After leading us around, she brought us to a room.

I assumed it to be a recreation room of some sort, akin to a child's playroom. It wasn't populated, actually, it only had one inhabitant. She was sitting in a wheelchair, scarf wrapped around her, wearing a short-sleeved pink nightgown and red slippers, amusing herself by dabbing a paper with paint using a paintbrush. We approached her carefully. She was startled but not too much and she looked up, surprised.

It seemed, at first, due to her mental illness, she was mostly unaware of much of anything going on around her, explaining why she'd be in a wheelchair, but, when she saw us, she realized she wasn't behind a pane of nigh unbreakable glass. At Mako's assistance, I took my place near her and started to run my fingers through her wispy black and red hair. She was silent but it's not that she needed to speak.

She was contented, just overall happy to see me. For once, even though these "recreation meetings" might not be frequent in the future, she could reach out to me and not have a barrier between us. I moved over closer to her, and she rested her head on my shoulder, like she used to before. Her hand wrapped around mine and I made a mental note of how small she felt. She was fragile, I would suppose, as fragile as her psyche had become necessitating her living in this hospital.

Our visit was mostly silent, save a conversation where we spoke of little. In the few utterances and some things, she's said, she told me about what she's been up to in my absence. Apparently, she's taken up artwork and was allowed out of her room to do so, along with that she's made a mess in her room earlier and that's been there for pretty much all morning. By that point, she finished her bit of artwork, revealing to me what it was.

Her artwork was a painting of us together, however, it seemed that she couldn't picture herself any other way, thus she portrayed herself small, like how one might portray a child, covered in bruises and blood spatter, yet she portrayed me being her protector, having an arm over her shoulders and holding her close. I found I would be taking that one home.

I told her of what I was up to and how her children were faring. There wasn't anything of note for me tell her and I wasn't really sure as to how she'd feel to know that her children think of me as their mother. I didn't want to take her place but circumstances didn't give me a choice. Of course, mental illness be damned, there were some things I didn't have to tell her and she just knew.

The rest of our visit had us siting next to each other and enjoying the fleeting moments, as time seemed to stop. Usually, I'd feel the ghosts there but, this time, in this moment, I felt them gone, their presence fading from this world, finally at ease. It seemed that the spirits of her unborn children couldn't rest until they knew for certain we'd be alright.

I knew healing would take a long time and some things it will be impossible to heal from, certainly, but, in this moment, at Ryuuko's quiet reassurance, my nieces' love, and with Mako's encouragement, I knew I could make it, to hold myself up again.

Authoress Notes:

To clarify, no, things don't go back to normal, realistically speaking but it doesn't mean Satsuki isn't able to move on, it's just that she'll have hard time doing so. No, with the damage done to Ryuuko's psyche (and brain), she won't be going back to normal and, while she'll improve, she'll remain living in a psychiatric hospital.

Just wanted to thank ya'll for reading this and sticking with me through it.

-Sincerely Amo

PS (added 8/2/2021): After getting a comment, I'd thought I'd answer this. As the foreword says, this is a post-canon fic. While the life fibers aren't mentioned, they are there and, actually, if it weren't for said life fibers, Ryuuko likely would've died, considering some of her injuries. Two, on that subject, while she does have a healing factor related and tends to heal quickly (like she did chapter 9), there's no guarantee that she'd heal back perfectly every time (especially if that injury is repetitive, i.e, her fractured pelvis). Half extraterrestrial notwithstanding, she's still human and so isn't entirely invincible.