Against The World

“Good evening, Kyoto. This is your regular news anchor, Atsuko Fujishima. Today, Sunday, April fifth, another murder has been reported.”
Now, had this been the first time (or even maybe the second or third) one had heard this, they would be mortified.
“This has been the fourth murder case since the beginning of last week. When will the madness end? We are unsure.”
But when these crimes occur so often, it is hard to be surprised.
“The Hamasaki family home was broken into, last night, and everyone inside was killed. No one witnessed the event, so we suspect that it happened sometime late at night, when the neighbors were asleep. We received information of this event just this morning from a man who had been leaving his home for his daily jog when he noticed the front windows of the aforementioned house had been broken in.”
Misono Kurosaki was a petite girl, but even she, what with the repetition of this sort of news, was not afraid. She only lived a few blocks away from the Hamasaki house, and it was late at night, but even the dauntingly coincidental circumstances did not faze her. Fear requires anger or shock to affect someone, and Misono had felt neither. She stared vacantly at the TV screen as the news anchor continued to explain the grim details of the slaughter.
“We suspect this to be the work of the Angel, since the windows were broken in and there was no effort to hide the evidence. The bodies of Mr. Hamasaki, Mrs. Hamasaki, Shiori Hamasaki, and little Ken Hamasaki were ripped apart in a bloody massacre. Whoever he is, he must want us to fear him, because he is killing his victims in gruesomely overt ways. But we do not fear the Angel, because we will find him, and he will be brought to justice.”
Even though the anchor seemed very sincere about what she said, she did not offer much assurance; the police and other secret task forces had been trying to track the Angel for almost a year, at this point, but their searches were never to any avail. The Angel knew very well the police’s helplessness in the situation, so he continued to terrorize the citizens of Kyoto.
He never robbed banks or stole from anyone, for money and material things were not what it was he was after. He only killed people, leading most to believe in one of three motives he would have to commit such crimes: he was an insane-asylum escapee, he was a member of some underground cult bent on human sacrifice, or he simply enjoyed killing people. Thinking the Angel was an insane-asylum escapee was a very unlikely possibility, considering how carefully and systematically he executed his plans, but people believed this, anyway; it was a comforting thought, for no one wanted to believe someone so evil could live in their midst. Cults had been known to take part in malicious, unholy practices, in the past, so this was not as hard to believe. The last of the three was the most likely of the assumptions people had as to why the Angel did what he did. He killed purely innocent people for no real reason, so it must have been that he simply acted on an impulse to kill. People did not like the thought of such a malevolent being living among them, though, so they tended to shy away from this answer to the question of why he killed, even though it was indubitably the right one. Many denied it because it was so terrible, but deep down, everyone knew it was the truth.
Originally, he had been dubbed the “Angel of Death,” for the deaths of his victims could be compared to those of the angel of death God had sent as one of the ten plagues to smite the Egyptians in the Christian Bible. The angel had traveled throughout Egypt in the middle of the night from house to house and taken the lives of those inside, just as the killer did. But as the Angel of Death’s notoriety grew, and his name was more commonly spoken of, people found it too long to say, so they abbreviated it as simply “Angel.”
No one had seen the Angel, before, for he very meticulously kept himself hidden. People had all different sorts of assumptions as to what he looked like. Some said he was a six foot tall monster; some said he was a handsome, slender young man; some even said the Angel was a woman. Various depictions of him – or her – were given, but nobody knew which picture was the real one. But people continued to speak of him as if they had seen him. Maybe people did this to give themselves security: they gave the Angel certain attributes so they could believe only one type of person could be him, not wanting to admit the fact that they simply did not know who to suspect, and that the Angel could be anyone.
“Boooriiing,” Misono complained. She eventually grew tired of the story, since she had heard the same stories on the news many a time before, so she began to channel surf. It was dark inside her home, it being late and the lights being shut off. There was a peaceful silence. She knew it was the end of the weekend, and that there would be school to be attended in the morning, but she was too tired now to get up from her couch, travel upstairs, and make her way to her bedroom, so she figured she would just stay on the sofa and watch TV until she fell asleep. She lounged slothfully on the plush cushions of her couch, eyes threatening to close on her from her need for rest. She did not have the strength to fight this need, and consequentially succumbed to it.
Monday morning, Misono was awoken by the sunlight that flooded into the house from its windows and the sound of the birds singing harmoniously outside. She stood up from the couch, sloppily rubbing the sleep out of her eyes as she did so. She went upstairs to her bedroom and began to rummage around in her dresser, looking for an outfit to wear to school. She noticed something quite peculiar, though; on top of her dresser, there was an empty picture frame.
“What happened to my picture…?” she asked herself as she picked up the frame and examined it. Photos did not just disappear like that. She thought little of it, though, figuring that she just misplaced it, or something, and did not realize it, so she took her clothes, closed the dresser drawers, and walked away.
Misono walked into the bathroom and set her clothes on the sink. She twisted the knobs of the faucet in her bathtub, adjusting them until she had found a pleasing temperature. She could not stifle a catlike yawn as she waited for the tub to fill. Once it did, she turned the knobs, and water ceased to pour from the faucet. She bathed and took a clean towel, scrubbing herself free of all the water. Once she had finished, she dressed: a blouse with a sailor-style collar and a pleated skirt. This was uniform for girls that attended her school. She returned to the sink, taking a look at herself in the mirror. She frowned in disapproval. She picked a comb from its spot on the sink and ran it through her hair, straightening the unruly, frizzy strands. She took two elastic hair ties and, with them, styled her hair into pigtails. Her look of disapproval faded as she continued, becoming more and more pleased with her appearance. Once she finished fixing her hair, she brushed her teeth and washed face. She smiled. Her smooth, supple skin was radiant, and she looked gorgeous. Her wide, brown eyes shimmered as they reflected the light. Her long, black hair shone with a black sleek, and her smile was as brilliant as the sun.
She ate her breakfast, grabbed her book bag, slipped her feet into her penny loafers, and left her home to begin her walk to school. The sun was shining, and the sky was a beautiful blue, the clouds lazily rolling by with the soft breeze. She felt wonderful. Her cell phone suddenly went off. She smiled as she read the text message she received.

“Date: April 6, 7:30 am
Good morning. See you at school. <3
From: Keji-Kun”

Misono went from feeling wonderful to feeling simply ecstatic. Even the simplest hello was a whole sonnet to her when it came from Keji, her lover. For a moment, she reveled in the sheer joy she felt from hearing from him. And then she took another look at the time. School started in ten minutes. She was about to be late! Her happiness was replaced with panic as she hurried to make it to school on time. She had never been late before, and she was determined to maintain a spotless record.
She made it to school, though, with a few minutes to spare. She walked to her desk and set her book bag beside it. She looked over the room, and blinked a few times in confusion: it was nearly empty. Only a few other students were there. Where had everyone gone? And more importantly, where was Keji? She walked over to the other present students, who all stood, huddled around one desk as they spoke amongst themselves.
“Hey, where is everyone?” she asked.
Her only answers were shrugs. Apparently, the same question had been on their minds, as well, for no one knew where the other students who were supposed to be there had been. She thanked them for answering her question, even though the answer given really did not inform her of where the others had gone, and walked back to her desk. The group of students resumed their conversation. Misono sat there, wondering why there were so many absences. Had the others left? Was she supposed to be absent, as well?
Just then, two girls came to the door and answered her questions.
“Why are you guys still in here? Everyone’s outside!” Mai exclaimed. The girls seemed to be excited about something, for they fidgeted and spoke rather quickly.
“Come on!” Ayumi insisted as she gestured for them to follow her out of the room. They must have trusted the others to come, for they did not even wait before they dashed away and down the hall towards the school exit. The students in the room did as she said and followed her out of the school building. Misono knew that classes would begin soon, and that she should have stayed in her seat, but as she noticed that other people from other rooms were also hurrying for the exit, she figured it must have been something important.
Once she had gotten outside, she was surprised at how many people had gathered. It seemed everyone in the school had been there. She even spotted some of the staff members. But she inwardly leaped for joy as she spotted one particular person. She ran to him and brought her arms around him, hugging him from behind.
“Keji-kun!” she exclaimed as she held tightly onto the other.
“Hey, Misono!” he replied, not able to hold back a smile and a laugh. Keji was a tall, thin boy with long, lanky limbs. He had hazel, almond shaped eyes and high cheekbones. His skin was a bronze color, and his hair was styled in unruly, upward-reaching spikes. And he was madly in love with Misono. He found her absolutely adorable because of how attached she was to him.
“What’s going on, Keji-kun?” she asked, relenting of her death grip around his waste. She looked up at the other as she cocked her head slightly to one side, a bewildered look in her eyes.
“You mean you don’t know? Geez, you can be so oblivious some times,” he teased, eyes rolling to one side as he shook his head some. “Don’t you watch the news, Misono? Haven’t you heard of the Angel?”
“Of course I have! There’s no need to tease me!” she replied, crossing her arms in a mock pout. “Everyone’s heard of him. He’s all over the news. I just personally am not interested. I mean, he does the same thing all the time: murder! People usually get all scared frantic when a murderer is on the loose, but it just gets old. I’m not afraid of the Angel, anyway!”
Keji laughed and shook his head once more. He found Misono’s naivety rather cute, but sometimes, it worried him. Misono was just so small. He wondered why she never showed fear where others would. “He could come to your house and kill you. You really shouldn’t have that sort of mindset about a mass-murderer.”
“Well, I don’t think depriving yourself of sleep is a good thing to do either. I’d rather be brave than be afraid!”
“Sure, kid.” He couldn’t help but smile. He patted her head, and she flushed.
“You still haven’t answered my question!” she scolded.
“The one about what’s going on?”
“Duh!”
“Oh, that’s easy. See that, over there?” He pointed in the direction of a large building opposite the school. There was a colossal TV monitor on the outside of it, and the news was on.
She gasped.
“Is that new? I’ve never noticed it, before!”
“It’s been there since the beginning of the semester,” he replied, rolling his eyes once more. He wondered if he should inform her of the convenience of electricity, for it seemed she was just discovering fire.
“…” she turned red and looked away. “I knew that!” she protested.
“Of course you did.”
“Well, what about it?”
“Sakura TV is making an emergency broadcast. It seems they’ve found the identity of the Angel,” he stated, and the lightheartedness of the conversation was gone.

The students congested the street as they flocked to the large screen. They weren’t the only ones, either; people from all over the area were now filling the street, trying to see what was happening on the screen. The Angel was known throughout the whole city, so there was a universal interest in the unveiling of his identity.
“Good morning, citizens of Kyoto. This is your regular news anchor, Atsuko Fujishima,” the news reporter began. Everything went silent.
“Today, Monday, April sixth, just moments ago, we received information of the true identity of the mass murderer that has been terrorizing our city, the ‘Angel of Death’, also known as the ‘Angel.’ ”
Misono’s eyes shone with curiosity as she stared at the monitor and watched the woman as she spoke. Keji protectively kept his arm around her waist.
“With me is Mr. Masao Nakamura, head of the Angel Investigation Task Force.”
A portly man with a scruff beard, dressed in an expensive-looking suit, nodded his head. He waved in the camera’s direction.
“Hello, Mr. Nakamura, and thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to be here,” Miss Fujishima said. They shook hands and exchanged smiles.
“It is my pleasure to be here, Miss Fujishima, and I thank you for having me.”
Even though there were hundreds – if not, thousands – of people in the street, there was no noise or motion whatsoever. Everyone was entranced by the screen.
“Any who, Mr. Masao. We understand that you’ve finally cracked the case: you’ve finally tracked the Angel.” One of Miss Fujishima’s brows cocked upward.
“Yes, we have. We are proud to say that, after almost a year of investigation, we have found the Angel, and, today, will reveal her secret identity for all of you to see.”
“Mr. Masao, you just referred to the Angel as ‘her.’ Did I hear correct? Do you mean to tell us that the Angel is a woman?” she asked in fabricated curiosity.
“Why, yes. The Angel is indeed a woman.”
Some sexist murmurings were heard throughout the crowd, a few wives slapped their husbands, and the attentive silence was restored.
“Interesting. So you have tracked the Angel. Are you saying that you have successfully apprehended her? I think I speak for the whole city when I say that I would like to hear a good answer.”
Everyone’s breath caught in their throats. They all prayed that he’d say yes.
“Well…no. Not exactly.”
And everyone seemed to simultaneously groan in disappointment. All the looks on their faces were the same: despondence. Would the Angel ever be caught? Maybe now that they had found out who the Angel really was. But no one wanted to wait any longer. Waiting one minute was waiting one minute too many. Misono knew the people must have developed a deep hatred for Mr. Nakamura just for his answer to Miss Fujishima’s question. She remembered how it was said that if many people got together and looked at a tree, all concentrating deeply and believing it would burst into flames, it would suddenly catch fire of its own accord. She then wondered if Mr. Nakamura would die.
“But we do know of her whereabouts, we know what school she attends, and, shortly, we will show you a photograph we have obtained of her,” he quickly added.
The hatred seemed to fade away, for, rather than looking angry, the people now looked desperate with anticipation.
“I’m sure we’re all very anxious to see this photo, but let’s not show it quite just yet.”
Misono then wondered if Miss Fujishima would die.
“You said you knew what school she attended. Are you saying the killer is young enough to still be in school? Please tell me you are not.”
“I have to apologize, Miss Fujishima, for you are correct; she is in school. She is just in her sophomore year of high school.”
“How terrible; the Angel is only in her teen years! You said you knew what school she attended – please, do tell.”
“Of course. The Angel is currently a sophomore at Katsura High.”
Misono’s eyes went wide. She went to Katsura High. All the other Katsura High students had the same reaction. They were all shocked. The once unified crowd turned into a very divided one. All the sophomores suspected each other, and everyone suspected them. None of them could be trusted. Some panicked, for they believed that the killer could be the very person they stood next to.
“My niece graduated from Katsura not but a few years ago. It seemed like such a nice school. Well, many, many people attend Katsura High. That goes without saying. So, let’s cut to the chase. Who is the Angel – really?”
“Gladly. The Angel, the murderous killer that has been taking the lives of the innocent, is none other than…”
Mr. Nakamura paused. Both he and Miss Fujishima rotated in their swivel chairs to face the wall behind them, where the picture would be displayed. The photo came up, and Misono froze. Her smooth, supple skin was radiant, and she looked gorgeous. Her wide, brown eyes shimmered as they reflected the light. Her long, black hair shone with a black sleek, and her smile was as brilliant as the sun.
“Misono Kurosaki.”