Chapter Text
"Thou des'rve not to liveth."
A peaking moment of loneliness, of approaching abyss; your heart beat is slowly picking up upon hearing those cruel words. Your eyelids are trying to open themselves,. You don't even need to intervene to run away from those primal instincts; to survive. To protect. It feels as if your eyelids are stuck where they are, is it because of the tears you shed? Maybe the alcohol you drank was way too much for your body to function? Either way, it's to no avail, you can't bring yourself to wake up; you can't bring yourself to even part your dry lips. You wonder, "What was I supposed to do on such an uncomfortable and disgusting couch? Did I have a promise? Did I have a mission?"
"Even now, thou regard about the oth'rs." The same voice spoke once again, bothered but not angry; as if it was exhausted from seeing this process repeat. This rang a couple of bells inside of your mushy brain, something akin to a recognition maybe but it's no better than trying to find a melody in the sound of pots and pans. It reminds you of looking at a blurry polaroid picture, incomprehensible thing that is; yet the colours are enough to tell part of story.
As you try to fill the empty parts of once cherished echoes of past, another sound— this time much more affectionate and merciful; cut through those thoughts. "Mayhaps thou should'nt hast these dilemmas so much." It said, "It brought thou nothing yet harmeth thus far, how much doth thou planeth to continueth this?"
"Thus far?" You think, what could've happened for you to think of giving up on life? You can try to recall some its and bits of your distant times, times that are long past and turned pages; some emotions bloom inside of your chest. You try to sort out your emotions and you understand. Regret. Sorrow. Hopelessness.
"Do emotions really do require to be in thy missions?" Asked a man's voice full of authority, "Did it work well in the endeth?"
That is the time you realize you're talking to yourself instead of just thinking, a series of voices repeat in every inch of your mind. You ask to yourself once again, thinking you're losing your marbles. "Who are you?" Even if you didn't speak out loud, you can evidently point out the question is full of hesitation more than anything. You don't want to hear an answer, you want to believe you're normal; you want to satisfy your curiousity. As you are deep in the sea of emotions, another voice, this time the same as yours, speaks with a gloom.
"Doth thou very much not rememb'r?"
That sentence brings a flash of images. The Fool. The High Priestess. The Empress. Shadow of a person putting twenty two different cards in front of you, you're nothing but a child; not even a baby. Choosing your fate earlier than you even figure out how to properly walk, putting your little hands on the cards; fiddling with them. Playing with them, understanding the figures on them. Your earliest and only memories.
"Why the f*ck do I have Major Arcanas in my head?" You try to put it kindly and yet it still comes out rude and stiff, another wave of regret hits you as the thoughts form in your brain. Surprisingly, you feel indebted to yourself.
"Why?"
This time the remark is similar to crying instead of scolding or comforting, like your own voice is talking back to you; arguing with you. As you were about to answer to the unknown, another voice; a voice that does not belong neither you or your head snaps you out of your delusions. It's like someone threw you inside of a cold bath in a haze of dreams, it's unkind. Yet necessary.
"Officer? Officer are you alright?" A serious voice asked, it most likely belonged to an adult man considering it had certain deepness in it. The voice was even, emotionless and you knew you were not in a good state to respond let alone analyze the man based on his voice only.
"Good riddance to thy substance consumption." It was The Hierophant now, scolding you much similar to your previous conversation partners. You tried to shut the thing up by concentrating hard, but you took so much time doing it that you couldn't foresee the harsh slap across your face.
That startled you enough to wake up, your eyes had a hard time focusing on anything at first; everything seemed strange, foreign but at the same time somewhat familiar. The smell of wallpaper starting to mold, industrial noises leaking through the ajar window subtly, a man standing in front of you with a frown—
"Thank God you're not dead." The man said as he released the breath he was holding with a relief. He was wearing a perfectly maintained shirt and pants, obviously ironed before arriving at your location. You realized on his belt he also had a gun, it looked shiny and looked after as much as his appearance. Noticing it must wake The Strength up since it whispered to your ear with a reluctant voice, "It's a SIG-Sauer, a gun that is often used in Japanese Police Forces." For some reason it didn't scare you as much as it should have, but you didn't say anything about it as you took a quick look at his face.
His face had multiple wrinkles yet you could see the charisma and beautiful lines on the face left behind after a handsome youth. "I suspected you had a brain aneurysm when you didn't respond to me more than five times. I apologize for the unprofessionalism." He said when he registered you were fully conscious, a hidden snarky gaze behind those crimson like brown eyes.
"Doth believeth not to this sir of pow'r." The Chariot reacted almost immediately. "He is not sorry, I'd even say this bastard is proud!"
"I'm sorry..?" You carefully avoided the aggressive approach upon The Chariot's words, you didn't need a sixth sense to expect the worst reaction from a man who was most likely in a Police Force if you rebel against him.
"You're probably experiencing a bad hangover." The man said with a respectful yet disapproving expression. "The cafeteria manager told me you caused quite a commotion yesterday, I anticipated this would be your state when I took the spare keys to your hotel room; so I brought you a cup of coffee. Please, do drink it before we discuss the current state of... our investigation."
Hangover? Coffee? Investigation? Why was this officer being friendly to you out of blue? Your confusion must be apparent from your face since the man sighed again (this time it was more of a disgust blended with boredom) and handed you a pill. You took it with your sweaty hand, noticing the man was also wearing leather gloves as an addition to all those appearance.
"It's cold outside." He reflexively defended himself when he realized your eyes were lingering on his gloves, "I'd suggest you to wear some new outfits too, considering you look like you have no difference from the people who live in these slumps."
You didn't realize the existence of the outfits you were wearing before he pointed it out but now looking at yourself properly; you couldn't figure out the stain on your shirt was alcohol or vomit. It disturbed you too, —The Emperor sighed at that— but it didn't stop you from taking a jab at the man in front of you; he had no issue with pestering you with his words.
"I don't think I'll accept any criticisms from someone who looks like an underpaid salaryman with no personality." You said while taking a look at the pill, you didn't think he'd give you some shady stuff; he was able to enter your room easily by talking with the manager while carrying a gun that was heavily used by Police Force. It was likely he was a detective. He was able to enter your room easily by talking with the manager while carrying a gun that was heavily used by Law Enforcements. If he didn't steal the gun from a police and threaten the manager to get into his room, (which was an unreasonable idea to begin with) he was probably a detective without a uniform.
"I suppose Homicide Unit does take the similar minds to the anarchists." He responded calmly, which was a sentence you didn't understand anything of. "Anyhow, I am not here to argue with you like a child while there could be corpses slowly decomposing in our absence. I am Goro Akechi from the Narcotics Unit of MPD, my presence is required here to assist you to investigate a series of drug related deaths."
You heard what man said, though there were bigger concerns since the pill he gave you was slowly melting inside of your palm. You quickly put it in your mouth and sloshed the whole coffee down to swallow it. "Bravo, thou shall experience heart palpitations less than five minutes." Temperance informed sarcastically, another comment you successfully ignored in the sake of responding the man in front of you.
"I hope you didn't give me one to get rid of me." You poorly tried to joke, which only resulted in a few seconds of awkward silence and Akechi clearing his throat. "Thou ended a relationship without even saying thy name, how did you fare that?" The Tower spoke as if it was trying to hold back a laughter, the representative of the pure destruction.
"Believe me Detective, if I wanted to get rid of you there are much more efficient drugs to do it rather than ibuprofen." Akechi said while he was looking outside of the window, as if he was taking your guess into account for future references. "Now, could you please give me the required information about yourself to start the investigation offically? There are lots of things to do other than standing around and doing chit-chat, I will need to report everything we do to higher ups every night we spend here."
"This is thy chance to create a name!" The Emperor spoke with an enthusiasm that completely opposed his deep and serious tone, enough to stagger you with it despite the conversation going on inside of your own head."Imagination is a method of life that engraved in our souls and bodies; your memory will serve you well Officer; only thing you need to do is recollect the times you have forgotten."
"Isn't that technically the root of the problem we're having here?" The High Priestess answered, like a kindergarten teacher trying to guide a child out of a mess. You didn't want to listen your own head quarrelling while Akechi was getting more and more impatient (as it could be easily understood from the taps of his polished Oxfords) so you decided to be direct about the tangled state of circ*mstances.
"I am not... exactly sure about my own name."
Akechi's eyes widened like a deer caught in headlights, and he stopped tapping his shoes almost immediately; looking at you with a carefully composed yet anxious expression.
"What do you mean you're not sure?"
"Thou art no more brain than stone." Judgement didn't waste any time to criticize your behavior, "Seemingly thou art h're f'r a police investigation, this is the w'rst possible replyeth thee couldst giveth to someone who is't's h're to assisteth thee on that. Findeth an excuse, p'rsuade that gent."
"I am experiencing the aftermath of last night's drinking." You blurted out with an instinct, "What about we talk about this after my head is cleared up?"
Akechi's stare was sharp, sharp as the Death's Scythe but he seemed to be convinced by the half-baked excuse. That should've surprised you, he looked like a man of both pride and intelligence but for some reason it didn't. Even though you didn't remember anything regarding your past, you somewhat knew officers would do anything to avoid another pile of papers they should submit if something went wrong.
"We can radio the MPD after talking with cafeteria manager if it's that bad." He eventually said, "Let's go, enough inconveniences for the first day of our investigation. For now, please focus on at least washing your face before we get out of this room Detective; that ruddy face of yours makes you look like you are the culprit."
"Alcohol flush reaction." The Devil commented on that, "That's normal for thou, whenever thou take copious amounts of alcohol, it happens; as if a memory that should be ashamed of gets unlocked. Could thou be a Catholic? It'd overlap with your traitor status too."
"Traitor status?" You questioned, "Last thing I would do would be betraying someone, how could I be a traitor?"
For the first time since you woke up, all of the voices fell into a deep silence. As if they were rejecting the very notion of amnesia, they were repeatedly dropping hints about past, yet repeatedly refusing to explain what they mean afterwards. You decided you didn't want to involve yourself deeply with these voices for now, especially since Akechi had escorted himself out of the room already (probably because of the rancid alcohol mixed with smell of must). Making him wait any longer wouldn't be tolerable in any excuse, so you dragged yourself to the outdated bathroom for a quick shower. The temperature was indeed cold for one, but you had a feeling that you wouldn't get sick even if you’d dipped into a tub full of ice cubes.
You stood up, head still spinning yet feeling a bit better because of the coffee and painkiller. Your heart was throbbing just as the Temperance said but it didn't disturb you, you even felt more alive if that made sense? It made you more aware of your surroundings. The room you were in for example, was obviously a room once adorned by european style furniture and checker style tiles. Maybe around the time when Japan tried to westernize, you thought as you walked but that would mean this building was ancient enough to get considered a museum; an area you’d come across in the early 1900s.
The bathroom was no different. A broken bathub with a portable cheap faucet was installed, it looked useable at least but nowhere luxurious like it should've been over decades ago. "Is it similar to one I have back home?" You asked; this time no one needed to answer such a trivial, meaningless question. "Did you have a home to start with?"
There was no shampoo or shower gel, only a soap and a sorry excuse of a washcloth. It polarized with elegance attire of the room with it's used appearance, though it spoke loudly of the conditions of hotel you're in.
"Oh? So thou art an hotel critic instead of an offic'r of law?" You felt The Star's disgusted eyes upon yourself now, you felt the shame deep in your bones; how did these voices make you feel this embarrassed of yourself when they didn't even exist? Was their whole duty simply torturing you inside of your own psyche?
You got inside of the cast iron bathtub, the structure of it was unsuitable for standing up; you felt like your foot was going to slip any moment. Centring your eyes on faucet, you noticed there were no indicators of temperature on it; just a tap waiting to be turned on patiently. You touched it, the feeling of dust imprinting on your fingertips.
The cold water instantly poured down on you as you turned it on, with the recent stimulant coffee gave it to you it was nearly fatal to your body. The chilly and ruthless rain going down on you with all it's might, you relished in the painful feeling. Was it normal to be this poetic about showering? You didn't know, you didn't know anything and possibly this was why you were the lightest you have ever been in your life.
_
Stepping outside of the room, the first thing welcomed you was Akechi's obnoxious stare.
"I see you took my advice." He said, it was disguised as an emotionless comment. To your experienced eyes though, the self-satisfactory smug demeanor behind the nonchalance was visible it made you swear you weren't going to give him same pleasure again.
"Yeah," You said, "I didn't have much choice to begin with. I wouldn't call it advice in any case."
"You wouldn't be able to call anything in that state." He answered almost instantly, "Since the detective in charge has arrived at the scene, I assume you have found the person who first reported this situation to the police? There are some questions I want to ask them before we start to investigate the case."
"About that..." You scratched back of your own head, refusing to elaborate any further. Everything was complicated to you and not only your mind was blurry, it was also suffering from a severe case of either amnesia or neurological damage. Again, for some reason it didn't worry you; you noted to see a mental specialist if there was one around this hellhole in your to-do-list.
Akechi took a deep breath and then said, "I tried to contact MPD and my higher-ups about this but as far as I know the person who reported it was a confidential whistleblower, even the recording of it is somewhat broken. With it's current state it's not possible to tell even the person's gender, which will be prove a greater problem for all of us as we proceed. This is why I asked you, we're not wanted here."
"Is there a specific reason why we are not wanted here?" You found yourself asking, trying to spark some memory flashes in front of your eyes but to no avail, there was no god coming to save you about this.
"I suppose it's normal for someone like you to not remember this." Akechi put another degrading remark before elucidating you, "This place is known for it's mafia and assault crimes. Police forces refused both patrol and association with any part of it. As far as I know a man tried in the past but the only good came from it was his body washing up on Tokyo's shore in next day.”
"You're hard on someone who just wake up." You said as you walked towards curved stairs. "Though, aren't bad neighborhoods are also known for their street drugs? How is this any different from the rest, to the point we’re willing to get involved in it?”
"The drugs found in the corpses are customized versions of the drugs we know." Akechi said as he followed you, "This is not your regular heroine or cocain. Even little dosages are highly lethal, which means there is a supplier around making experiments on people here."
"Do you possibly have the victims names?" You sheepishly asked, which made Akechi wait for a moment before answering.
"Do you not read the reports or something? You were here before I even got the notice." But despite all his complaints, he took out his notebook ("T looks designeth'r special leath'r notebook." The Emperor informed you, "We has't a connoisseur h're.") and announced the names to the nothingness.
"Shiho Suzui, Mika Endo, and lastly, Kasumi Yoshizawa." He read, "Yoshizawa's autopsy is still in process and if there are no complications they are going to notify us at next morning. Suzui was seemingly taking a drug we can call an antipsychotic, something similar to clozapine. There was a high amount of oxandrolone found in the Endo's blood as well, which triggered a liver failure. They were both referred to the hospital before their deaths and their autopsy took place after the whistleblower called the police on Yoshizawa's death."
"Antipsychotics art hath used f'r schizophrenia and hallucinations." The High Priestess spoke after a long time, "Oxandrolone on the oth'r handeth is hath used f'r to gain weight 'r muscles, both art highly unlikely to beest taken f'r a drug haze. Asketh sire why the victims w're taking t."
“Isn't it unusual for someone to get those for pleasure?" You asked Akechi, the sound of creaking wood echoing through as you both walked. "I mean, there are more options for someone who lives in the slums, I'd say, especially since there must be a lot more dealers around here..."
”I am not interested in why addicts are taking the drug." Akechi said as he started to going down the curved stairs. "There could be a lot of reasons here— maybe these drugs are designed to be tested on them, since we don't know the effects yet; the only thing we know is that they are dead because of it. And that’s enough for me to look for a criminal."
"I see." You remarked as you followed him, falling into a silence. There was something about this situation that didn't seem right to you, something both you and Akechi missed but it disappeared into the back of your mind as you stepped onto the ground floor.
"We should talk to the cafeteria manager first." Akechi said, "Most of the people in the area came here for their food, he must have everyone within his arm's reach."
The only thing you did was nod as you followed behind him. The lobby carried the same faded grace of old times replaced with cheap furniture; though it looked more like a house rather than the blueprint of a hotel. Maybe an european ambassador lived here before, maybe a royal with lavish tastes. It was hard to tell with how worn out it became with time.
"Oh, detectives." A smoker's voice said, raspy and old. "Wasn't it enough for that Lupin friend of yours to cause a ruckus here? What do you want now?"
The cafeteria was a big, an airy living room type of space. There was a bar standing in the right side, a man with goatee was taking care of it as it seemed. He was wiping a wet glass as Akechi stepped in to speak -interrogate- to him.
"He is having issues with his memory sir. He'll be fine, don't worry."
"Issues with his memory?" The man responded with a surprised expression. "I mean, we did serve him lots of sake yesterday but—"
"It is not something you should concern yourself with." Akechi spoke with a kind yet authoritative voice. "As I said, He'll be fine. Only thing you need to do is help us through our investigation."
The man's eyes narrowed with a disgust Akechi wasn't able to see; it was just for nanosecond, then light reflected from his glasses and then he was back to normal with his gentlemanly expression.
"Of course. What can I do for you?"
There was a black and white cat standing on the bar, as they both talked clearly violating health regulations with his existence. You weren't here for that though, which is why you decided to play with the cat as Akechi did the talking part.
"For the record, can I have your name please?" Akechi said while he opened his notebook again.
"Sojiro Sakura."
"Alright Mr.Sakura, do you have any connections with any of the following names; Shiho Suzui, Mika Endo and Kasumi Yoshizawa?"
"No." The man grumbled as he continued to wipe the glass to the perfection.
"I see." Akechi was obviously not convinced but didn't insist on it. "Did you know them?"
"I did." Sakura said as he put the glass aside. "We all know each other here, these people eat from my hands everyday."
"I suppose you spoke to them then?" Akechi said while he note something down, which made Sakura visibly stiffen. "No, I didn't. They weren't interested in talking to an old man like me."
This conversation wasn't going anywhere with Akechi's attitude. This was your conclusion upon listening to a conversation that lasted less than five minutes. These people weren't "overlords" Akechi was looking for, they were people trying to live in a district that was controlled by mafia.
"Is this cat yours?" You asked as Akechi was about to say something, which made Sakura frown and look at you with a confused look.
"No, I mean, my daughter takes care of it but it doesn't belong to us by name. No."
"It looks looked after." You said as you scratched the back of cat's ear, "What's his name?"
The man looked even more confused now. "Morgana. We call him Mona though."
"Morgana for a cat?" You asked while chuckling, "Sounds pretentious. I want to meet with his owner now."
"Well, he's busy lately." Sakura said as he took a bowl from the lower cabinet. "We're taking care of him, he's very clever; that rascal."
"”So," You sit on one of the chairs of bar, gesturing startled Akechi to sit too. "I know this whole situation is not easy for you, and we can't force you if you don't want to talk about it”—Akechi's "Oh but I can." went unheard—“but I'd appreciate any information you could give to us about the victims. Their interests, people they would hang out with, anything.”
Sakura looked conflicted for a second, but then closed his eyes and sighed. "I wasn't personally acquainted with any of them, but I do know one person that could give you more information." He pointed his forefinger to one of the tables. "Both Mika and Shiho were friends with a woman called Ann. She comes around every morning and sits at that table. She might talk to you, but I wouldn't get my hopes up; considering your occupations, it's more likely she'll beat you off with a bat.”
"Thank you Mr.Sakura!" You said as you stood up, "I'll try my chance regardless."
