~Prologue: The Garden of Sinners~
Shiki Ryougi didn't dream.
It hadn't always been that way; actually, it was a rather recent development. She used to have all sorts of vivid dreams, about the kind of thing people stopped caring about when they got older. She may have been a reclusive, oddity of a child with strict parents and few friends, but she was still a child. And children dreamed.
Then came her "accident".
That was what her family, doctors, and even Mikiya liked to call it, but she knew better. She was pretty sure they knew better, too, but they sugarcoated it anyway. On some level, it annoyed Shiki that they couldn't call things as they were, couldn't be real with her, but she supposed she couldn't really fault them for it. Nor did she care to. Her family, respected as they were, had to save face. Her doctors, fearful of her family, had no choice but to wear false smiles and pretend everything was all right and okay, especially after having all but written her off as dead during the span of her two-year coma. And Mikiya...
Well, Mikiya was just Mikiya. Shiki had a hard time discerning whether he was an optimist or simply naive, but whatever he was, he had always been that way. She was used to it.
The point of all this was, ever since that pouring night on the roadside in the shadow of a bamboo forest, Shiki had not experienced a single dream. Perhaps her capacity to dream was among the things she lost that night, or perhaps her mind simply realized the pointlessness of hallucinating a reality that wasn't true. Either way, all she knew from the moment her eyes drifted shut at night to the moment they flickered open in the morning was nothingness.
Until about a week ago.
It was around then that she first experienced the strange, recurring vision, an image of some sort of wrought iron gate, framed by words she recognized as Russian. Stranger still, she found that she understood them. Among the memories of her life before the "accident", the memories she recalled but could not relate to, she remembered learning English as part of the rigorous educational regime her parents instilled; but never Russian. So it made little sense that she, a girl hailing from Japan, could perfectly comprehend a language that by all rights should've been gibberish to her.
She knew right from the moment she awoke that first morning that there was significance in the dream. Even if her brain rediscovered its ability to experience images as she slept, why would it be something as random and nonsensical as that? She was sure there was something more to it, some technical magical nonsense she couldn't care less to understand.
So she went to someone who did.
***
"If I wanted something like this I would've just gone to the flea market, Touko..."
She complained, having returned to her apartment following a quick visit to the elder Aozaki, sitting cross-legged atop her bed as she examined
the trinket she'd been given. The magus seemed convinced it'd block unwanted mental intrusions while she slept, provided their origin was magical in the sense she knew it. Shiki wasn't so certain, though she put it up regardless, just to see if it would work.
It didn't.
And at that point, what did Shiki do? Did she report back to Touko, seeking further analysis? Did she attempt to uncover the source of the dreams herself? Did she use her Mystic Eyes to kill the very concept of dreams within herself, thereby freeing her of the mysterious vision's influence?
Nope. She just stopped caring.
Every night, the dream returned, its intensity and vividness surpassing the night before it. And every night, Ryougi grew more and more impatient. Was this actually leading to anything, or was someone just doing it to bug her? She was getting restless. Her gut instinct told her somebody was trying to contact her in some way, and in her experience, her gut was rarely wrong.
As though in spiteful defiance towards whoever may have been doing so, she took to sleeping less and less, fulfilling an old habit of hers and embarking on late-night walks through the city she called home. She always enjoyed strolling through Mifune at night, enjoyed the sight of the industrial pylons and the corpselike stench left by their thick, billowing plumes of smoke; or, at least, the Shiki from her memories did. The Shiki she was still struggling to reconnect with. The Shiki Ryougi that was. The one from before the coma.
Of course, she
was that Shiki Ryougi. At least, that was what her brain told her. But even still, those memories felt a lifetime away, as though she was seeing them through another's eyes; like they were reflections on water and the water was muddy. She retained everything, recalled everything with perfect clarity, but she just... she couldn't find herself
accepting those memories for what they were. It was like trying to piece together a jigsaw that didn't fit.
In truth, maybe the reason these dreams were making her so impatient was the same reason she went on these walks at night; because deep down she was eager for something,
anything, to connect her to her past life. In a sad, miserable way, it was like she'd fallen in love with her previous self.
On one such night, as Shiki walked down a lonely avenue at the height of the evening, unbothered by the winter chill and snowflakes that gently drifted and spiraled down around her, she suddenly felt the strangest sensation of drowsiness coming over her, her eyelids growing heavy and movements becoming sluggish. Her hand flashed to the back of her kimono's sash, where she kept her knife, on instinct, but as she grunted and lurched up against the nearest wall she realized the fact was that there was nothing to stab.
Ugh. How annoying.
Still, as she slowly slid down the cold surface of the wall and her vision darkened, the expression she wore was... decidedly not one you'd expect. It was a smirk. She had an inkling this sudden sensation, whatever it was, was connected to that recurring dream... which meant whoever was behind those was finally making their move.
Good.
Things... had been boring around here, lately...
anyway...
***
Shiki's awakening was a slow one. She never was a morning person.
Even she couldn't ignore the intrusive jingle of music for long, though, and after a few moments of it persisting her eyes slowly, groggily eased open, only to shut again a couple of times as her pupils struggled to cope with the sudden intake of light. So. It was a kidnapping. Well, it wasn't exactly the first time, though she was used to waking up in handcuffs or confined within the reality bubble of a madman, not... on a bus. Even so, she found herself unable to move for a good while, in an odd half-awake haze until the bus finally came to a complete stop. She remained awake all throughout the journey, trying to make herself as alert as she could manage, but all her efforts really earned her was the lilting, melodic tone of some female, right on the edge of her hearing threshold.
When she finally came to her senses fully, she quickly took stock of her surroundings, keen eyes giving the environment a once-over as she noted the other bus passengers and their surroundings. They were all speaking English, but if her dream was accurate they were more than likely in Russia, so... that meant they were more than likely as clueless as she was. Great.
She wasted little time in
heading outside, giving everyone she passed a cool glance of neutrality en route to the camp's gate. She cut quite the figure in her light-blue kimono and contrasting red leather jacket, but didn't acknowledge anyone directly beyond the appraising look.
She didn't miss a beat upon being blocked by the invisible force in front of the gate, and after a moment or two of patting the barrier down to determine its girth she shifted gears. Glancing left, then right, she casually strode down the length of the wall adjacent to the camp's entrance, coming to a stop in front of the brick, spiked structure that was the wall.
At which point she took a deep breath, tensed, and
attempted to jump it.
@york @whoever
