Minagawa Akane had been having a very bad time lately.
Because the ritual was interrupted by a strange Ritualist and she was discovered by the authorities, she had been moving around for many days, leaving her spirit in a state of disarray.
Although she had kept her mouth tightly shut for the sake of her own life, Minagawa Akane didn't believe those people actually believed her words.
It was just... they hadn't made a move yet. Did they really need evidence to execute someone who had participated in a Chaos ritual?
Hiding in her room every day in a daze, the woman could feel countless gazes drifting over her curtains—perhaps two, perhaps three.
She was under strict surveillance.
Using the excuse of a trip, Minagawa Akane had also tried to apply for travel permits.
Sorry.
She couldn't even leave Tokyo, let alone try to go to another country.
It felt as if those official Ritualists were standing expressionlessly behind screens, coldly watching her make useless and foolish struggles.
They were waiting for her to lose her patience, so that in some late night, evening, cafe, or alleyway, they could catch both her and the Ritualist she was meeting in one fell swoop.
After that, she would be of no more use.
Minagawa Akane held a black parasol, but the bright evening Moonlight could not illuminate the path ahead.
Everything before her was pitch black.
"The Ball..."
Muttering to herself, her internal organs began to itch again.
Having been 'blessed' by the mist, Minagawa Akane was like an animal with genetically modified DNA, gradually undergoing irreversible mutations—a problem she had discovered a few days after leaving the Ritual Institute's interrogation room.
Her stomach, or some organ, seemed to be... growing hair.
Whenever she ate or flirted with someone, there was always an itchy sensation in her belly, as if something were crawling inside, its antennae scraping against the lining of her organs.
Then, along the crawling tracks, eggs or seeds were buried deep within her flesh.
Yesterday, they sprouted.
Today, they began to call out to her.
Therefore, she couldn't wait any longer.
Minagawa Akane held her umbrella and quickened her pace.
She had to hurry back to the Masquerade Ball and find the 'Host' Hannya had mentioned, or some Chaos Ritualist, to help her solve this problem—
Perhaps that Mr. Homa she had been intimate with could...?
Minagawa Akane didn't know if she still had any utility value, or if being a 'Contactee' would be enough to make that man help her... even if they had spent a few nights together.
However, she had no other choice.
Taking the opportunity of a shopping trip, the woman quietly circled the mall a few times. While briefly evading surveillance, she changed into clothes she had prepared long ago, then held up the black parasol to hide her face and slipped out through the back door.
There was only one chance; next time, what awaited her would be even more rigorous surveillance.
The back of Minagawa Akane's hand gripping the umbrella turned white from the force. Stuffed inside her shoulder bag was that white Heart mask with red accents.
As long as she had it... she could find that door.
The full moon was faintly obscured by dark clouds. Wearing high heels, the woman moved quickly through the deserted alleys. She tried to stick to streets with few people, looking anxious and desperate under her black parasol.
It was close.
Minagawa Akane took a deep breath. Walking up to an unmanned shop, she pretended to adjust her clothes while inconspicuously glancing behind her through the edge of her umbrella.
The alley was pitch black; no one was there, and there was no sound.
Inside the dilapidated shop sat several vending machines—
Drinks, biscuits, and... some adult products.
The small shop was sparsely furnished with just the machines, and the walls had been lazily slapped with a few coats of white paint. Further inside was an inner door; normally, this useless door was locked.
Today, it would be opened.
Minagawa Akane touched her small leather bag.
The mask was pulsing with heat, which seeped through the leather and into the woman's palm.
Hope rose in her Heart once again.
She folded her umbrella and entered.
Her high heels clicked against the brick floor as the woman tremblingly reached for the cold doorknob.
She pressed down gently.
Click.
Success!
It could open!
The corners of her mouth curled up uncontrollably. Excitedly, Minagawa Akane dropped her umbrella and prepared to pull open the door leading to the Masquerade Ball—
Suddenly, something leaned close to the woman's ear and greeted her playfully.
"Hi."
The other person lightly grabbed her collar.
"Miss Minagawa, where are you going?"
Minagawa Akane's entire body broke out in goosebumps instantly!
She let out a scream and grabbed the doorknob with all her might, trying to pull it open!
Bang!
In an instant, she was pulled away from the door.
A distorted figure grabbed her hair, ignoring the woman's piercing pain, and dragged her out of the retail shop step by step.
"It wouldn't be good to break things."
"Ms. Minagawa."
"No! No!" Minagawa Akane collapsed on the ground, her legs kicking like crazy, her high heels having been flung aside long ago.
"Let me go! Let me go!"
She recognized the voice; it was that terrifying Ritualist from the school that day.
"I beg you! Let me go... let me go!"
The woman who had once easily manipulated men's minds with a smile could now only wail helplessly.
"Please..."
Mucus and tears flowed down her face, blurring her beautiful features. As her eyeliner was washed away by the tears, streams of black liquid stained Minagawa Akane's cheeks.
"I beg you..."
Sen Getsusa hummed 'The Puppy Song' as she dragged Minagawa Akane into the alley with one hand.
When she let go, a clump of torn-out hair remained in her palm.
"Ms. Minagawa, is there anything you'd like to tell me?"
Minagawa Akane curled up in the corner. If possible, she desperately wanted to wall herself into the concrete right now, just to escape this terrifying demon.
"Hannya! Hannya, I know about Hannya!"
The woman began to speak incoherently like a madwoman: "The Masquerade Ball! They have an Ability that lets them travel across the city!"
"the mist! There's also the mist!"
"I'm innocent..."
Sen Getsusa tilted her head, filtering out the woman's pleas and wails while listening for information about the Masquerade Ball.
After all, she would have to crush this organization sooner or later.
"Apologize."
What?
Hearing those words, Minagawa Akane opened her mouth blankly. Caught off guard, the woman's voice went hoarse.
However, her survival instinct allowed her to react quickly.
"Apologize, I'll apologize!"
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I—"
Sen Getsusa smiled: "Not to me."
"To Hayami Mari."
Minagawa Akane knelt on the ground, her knees scraped bloody by the coarse gravel. "I'm sorry! Hayami Mari, it was the teacher's fault..."
"I beg you, let me go! I was wrong!"
"Hayami..."
Suddenly, Minagawa Akane shuddered.
Hayami Mari...?
A bolt of lightning struck her brain.
Minagawa Akane understood.
She looked up with a face full of hatred: "I know now, you bitch! You're Sen—"
Puchi.
A scalpel precisely entered the woman's forehead, like a red-hot knife sinking into delicious butter. Without needing any force, the tip of the blade easily slid into her brain, stirring a few times within the wrinkled, hairy cortex.
Even as she died, she continued to glare fiercely at Sen Getsusa's blurry retreating figure.
The lights flickered strangely.
In white flames, the woman began to burn. A peculiar and cold wind rose in the windless night, swirling a few discarded lottery tickets and postcards of sexy girls into the air.
The ashes were scattered across the ground.
The alley returned to silence once more.
A short while later, the sound of another pair of shoes passed by at a leisurely pace.
Tap, tap.
Tap, tap... tap.
"Eh?"
The footsteps stopped.
The newcomer bent down and picked up the dusty lady's leather bag from the ground.
Did someone... drop this?
Hiss.
So hot.
The girl who was just passing by curiously unzipped the bag.
A mask with a Heart printed on it met her gaze in a bizarre stare.
Her palm grew hotter and hotter.
Ding—
A message she had just received popped up on her phone screen.
[Tsukihime: Has Senior not arrived home yet?]
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