The three boys trembled as Chizuru loomed over them, the nipper cutter clicking rhythmically in her hand.
"The buyers," she prompted, her voice dropping to a silk-smooth whisper. "Who are they?"
"Chinese... Chinese businessmen!" the first boy shrieked. "They have a warehouse near the northern port. They—they look for young women. To use as... as dolls. Slaves. They pay in untraceable crypto. That's all we know! We swear!"
Chizuru's smile remained fixed, but a flicker of pure, mechanical coldness crossed her eyes. "Dolls... how odd, where do I hear it somehow? Ohhh, right. The Lolita case. Well, it makes sense now," she spat sarcastically. "So the eight students were sold to those predators for them to molest and ravage through your filthy transactions? You really let eight lives turn into deep mud shit just for you to earn your filthy wealth and luxury? Disgusting."
She straightened her back, tossing the cutter onto the metal tray with a loud clatter. She turned to her men, who stood like statues in the shadows. From her blazer pocket, she pulled out a stack of papers: the notebook assignments she had intercepted from Epione earlier that day.
"I've decided to be generous," Chizuru announced, her voice echoing with a playful, yet lethal, lilt. "I'm giving you a test." She handed the copies of the assignments to one of her men. "These are the assignments you were going to force Epione to do for you. Since you're so fond of her work, let's see how much you've learned."
She leaned down, her face inches from Marcus's terrified eyes. "If you know the answers, escaping is easy for you. There are ten questions. For every wrong answer, my men will drill a small hole into your skull. Just a tiny one. Hope the three of you can survive all ten if you're too stupid to answer."
The boys began to wail, but Chizuru simply adjusted her white gloves. She leaned into her lead guard's ear, her whisper barely audible over the pleas of the three captives.
"The class begins. Facilitate. Once you're done, dismiss them in a 'clean' manner. If they fail, which I'm sure they will... clean the bodies and deliver their heads to their doorsteps. No traces."
She turned on her heel, the heavy iron doors groaning shut behind her, cutting off the first high-pitched whine of a power drill.
Chizuru didn't go home. She didn't need sleep, not in the way humans did.
A year ago, the world thought the Katsura family had perished in a tragic "accident." They were right about her parents, but Chizuru had been brought back. Her uncle, a man driven mad by the loss of his own pregnant wife, had poured his grief and his fortune into a forbidden fusion of flesh and circuitry. Chizuru was his masterpiece: a girl with a human heart but the cold, efficient processing power of an advanced android.
She moved through the Chinese traffickers' security like a shadow through a graveyard. Armed guards didn't even have time to raise their weapons; she moved at speeds the human eye couldn't track, her reinforced limbs shattering bone and steel alike. By dawn, the three lead buyers were bound in the depths of the Katsura Base.
"You like to leave marks on women?" Chizuru asked, her voice flat and devoid of its usual bubbly pitch. She held a glowing industrial heater.
"Let's give you some permanent hickeys."
The screams lasted for three days. She was meticulous. She applied the heaters to their flesh in patterns that mimicked the bruises they left on their victims. Then, she brought out a jagged, mechanical device of her uncle's design. She inserted the rods into their bodies, the machine's rhythmic in-and-out motion a cruel parody of their crimes. On the final day, the machines hissed, releasing a thick, white ooze into their systems. It was a concentrated cocktail of King Cobra venom. She watched with a tilted head, her internal sensors recording their vitals until the last heartbeat flickered out.
....
On Tuesday morning, the sun was shining brightly over the school courtyard. I had been worried sick; Chizuru had been absent on Monday, and she hadn't answered any of my texts.
"Epione!"
I spun around. There she was, jogging toward me with a lunch bag in one hand, her hair bouncing and her eyes sparkling. She looked refreshed, radiant even.
"Chizuru! Where were you? I was so worried!"
She giggled, looping her arm through mine just like she always did. "Oh, I'm so sorry, My dad took me on a surprise weekend trip to the mountains. We went hiking and looked at the stars. It was so peaceful, I completely forgot to check my phone! We had the best time just bonding, you know?"
I smiled. She deserved this kind of happiness. If I had my parents around... would we also have this kind of bond? I felt her lean her head on my shoulder, the scent of expensive floral perfume clinging to her. I couldn't help but smile, the weight lifting off my chest.
"I'm glad you're back," I said softly.
"Me too," she chirped, her smile widening into that perfect, bubbly expression. "I think I missed a lot for a day. Ready for class?"
As we walked toward the building, she didn't trip, she didn't stumble. She was the picture of a perfect, happy girl, with not a single drop of blood on her white sleeves. Walking into school had always been a descent into a waking nightmare, a gauntlet of cold stares and bruises. But now, it feels as though a veil has been drawn between me and the world. She came in like a guardian angel sent, a quiet shield against the hands that used to bruise.
In her, I have found a warmth so deep it puts my own blood to shame. In the silence of the moment, I let my breath carry the words:
Thank you, Chizuru.
.....
The classroom was eerily quiet that morning. Usually, the air was thick with the scent of cheap cologne and the loud, obnoxious laughter of Marcus and his crew. Today, their seats were empty. In fact, most of the "Section Dream-5" crowd looked pale, huddled in small groups and whispering with wide, terrified eyes.
"Have you heard?" I heard one girl whisper as we walked to our desks. "They say the Hallowhand mansion was swarmed by police at 4:00 AM. But it wasn't for an arrest. It was for... a delivery."
I felt a slight shiver run down my spine, but Chizuru's hand remained warm and steady on my arm. She didn't seem to hear the gossip at all, humming a light J-pop tune as she opened her bag.
The Unattainable Feast
"I brought extra today!" Chizuru announced, pulling out a beautiful bento box. It was filled with colorful tamagoyaki, rice balls shaped like pandas, and fresh fruit. "My dad's chef went a little overboard. You have to help me eat it, Epione, or it'll go to waste."
"It looks like art," I said, genuinely impressed. I reached for a piece of the egg, my stomach growling. As I ate, I noticed Chizuru just... watching. She held a strawberry in her fingers, bringing it to her lips, but then she'd get distracted by a story I was telling and set it back down.
"Aren't you eating?" I asked, my mouth half-full.
"Oh, I had a huge breakfast at the hotel before we left the mountains," she said smoothly, her eyes crinkling in a smile. "Just watching you enjoy it makes me feel full. You're so thin, Epi-chan. You need the energy more than I do."
I laughed, but as the lunch period wore on, I realized she hadn't taken a single bite. Not one grain of rice. Not one sip of water. Even her breathing seemed different. When I sat close to her, I couldn't hear the rhythmic huff of lungs or the beat of a heart. There was only a very faint, almost imperceptible hum, like a high-end laptop running in a quiet room.
Later that afternoon, during a particularly boring lecture on the industrial revolution, Chizuru dropped her pen. We both reached for it at the same time. My hand brushed against hers.
I flinched. Not because she was aggressive, but because she was ice.
It wasn't just "office AC" cold. It was the cold of a stone in winter. The cold of something that had never known the sun.
"Chizuru, your hands are freezing," I whispered, taking her hand in both of mine to warm it. "Are you sick? You're pale, too."
She didn't pull away. Instead, she let me hold her hand, looking down at our joined fingers with a curious, distant expression. For a moment, the bubbly "exchange student" mask slipped, and the girl sitting next to me looked... ancient.
"I've always been a bit cold," she said softly. "My uncle says it's a circulation thing. A family trait. Don't worry about it."
"But you're not even shivering," I noted, concerned.
"I've learned to live with it," she replied, her smile returning, though it didn't quite reach her eyes this time. "Besides, as long as you're warm, what does it matter?"
She squeezed my hand. Her grip was terrifyingly strong, the pressure of her fingers feeling like steel bands wrapped in silk. Like purposely letting me feel the insides of her hand. I looked at her, really looked at her, and for the first time, I saw the faint, silver seam hidden right at the edge of her hairline, nearly invisible under her dark bangs.
Before I could ask about it, the door opened. Ms. Pillarion walked in, her face like granite.
"Epione Paramnesia. Chizuru Katsura. My office. Now.""Epione Paramnesia. Chizuru Katsura. My office. Now."
The whispers in the room reached a fever pitch. As we stood up, Chizuru leaned in and whispered in my ear, her breath smelling not of food or peppermint, but of nothing. Just sterile, recycled air.The whispers in the room reached a fever pitch. As we stood up, Chizuru leaned in and whispered in my ear, her breath smelling not of food or peppermint, but of nothing. Just sterile, recycled air.
"Stay behind me, Epione. No matter what they say... stay behind me."
what does she even mean by that?
As we reached the office, the thought of her state earlier made me really comcern, so out of instinct. I had to double check
I reached for her forehead, my own hand shaking. "Chizuru, you're freezing. I think you have a really bad fever. People can get cold when they're sick, right? We should go back to Eunoia at the clinic."
Chizuru didn't move. She didn't blink. She just kept her eyes on Ms. Pillarion, who was waiting at the door like a shadow. "I'm fine, Epi-chan,"
she whispered, "It's just the mountain air still clinging to me."
As we walked toward the office, Chizuru clutched the metallic briefcase from her "father" tightly. I felt a pang of envy mixed with worry. I wished my parents were like hers alive, successful, and sending me packages even when they were busy with the family business in Tokyo. My parents had discarded me, but Chizuru's father clearly adored her.
Inside the office, the air was thick. Ms. Pillarion didn't sit down. She stood by the window, looking out at the courtyard where the police had been earlier that morning.
"The Hallowhand family has withdrawn Marcus from this school," Ms. Pillarion said, her voice trembling slightly. "Along with his two friends. Their parents cited... security concerns. They claimed their sons received a delivery they couldn't recover from."
She turned to look at us, her eyes landing on the silver case in Chizuru's hand.
"A lot of strange things are happening since you arrived, Miss Katsura. And you, Epione... you've changed. You're not the quiet, bruised girl I used to see in the halls." At the end of her sentence, I noticed that she had a small smile...like a relief
"Is that a crime, Ma'am?" Chizuru asked. She stepped forward, and I noticed the way the floorboards didn't even creak under her feet. "To be a shield for someone who has none?"
"It's a crime to dismantle the hierarchy of this school using fear," Pillarion snapped. "The Board of Directors is terrified. They think your father's 'Military Power' is more than just a business name."
Suddenly, Chizuru's hand jerked. A soft, metallic click echoed from inside the briefcase. A thin wisp of white vapor escaped the seal, smelling of ozone and chemicals. Chizuru's face went momentarily blank, her pupils dilating until her eyes were almost entirely black.
"Chizuru?" I whispered, reaching for her shoulder. "You're shaking."
She wasn't just shaking; she was vibrating. A low, sub-sonic hum began to emanate from her chest, so faint I could only feel it through the air.
"I need... to take my medicine," Chizuru said, her voice flickering for a second like a radio losing signal. She turned to Ms. Pillarion with a smile that was a fraction too wide, a fraction too perfect. "If you'll excuse us, Epione needs to help me with my... documents."
Before the Counselor could protest, Chizuru grabbed my wrist and pulled me out of the room. Her grip was like a vice. We sprinted toward the old, abandoned music room at the end of the hall.
Once inside, she slammed the door and locked it. She slumped against the wall, the silver case falling open. She didn't pull out papers. She pulled out a sleek, high-tech injector filled with that glowing blue fluid.
"Epione," she gasped, her skin turning a sickly, translucent grey. "Don't look at me. Please. Just... look at the door. Make sure no one comes in."
I was terrified. Was this some kind of rare Japanese illness? A secret treatment for her "circulation" problem? "Chizuru, let me call your dad! Or your uncle! You need a real doctor!"
"No!" she barked, and for a split second, her voice sounded like grinding metal. She softened it immediately, clutching her chest. "Just... give me a minute. The 'medicine' works fast. I just need to stabilize."
I stood by the door, my heart hammering. I wanted to believe her. I wanted to believe she was just a girl with a rich, protective father and a weird medical condition. But as I looked back, I saw her sleeve slip up.
There was no bruise where Marcus had grabbed her yesterday. There wasn't even a mark. Instead, beneath the pale skin of her forearm, I saw a faint, rhythmic pulsing of blue light, following the line of what should have been a vein.