Kanjuro's words echoed like a devil's whisper in the silent forest. Asking a ten-year-old child to poison someone? The idea itself was utterly insane.
Tsurumi Rumi's eyes widened first, her small face filled with disbelief and a hint of primal fear. "P-poison?" she murmured, her small hand unconsciously gripping her clothes.
Kanjuro's face showed no wavering, instead, he displayed an even gentler, almost encouraging smile. He gently stroked Rumi's hair, his voice as soft as if he were telling a beautiful fairy tale:.
"Rumi, didn't you say you wanted to help Daddy get revenge? Those bad kids, and those teachers who indulged them, or who looked at you with strange eyes, they made my Rumi so sad, shouldn't they receive a small punishment?" He deliberately downplayed serious criminal behavior as 'a small punishment'.
"Look, this world is so terrible to Rumi, everyone dislikes you, isolates you... But Daddy is different, Daddy acknowledges you, loves you, thinks you are the most special, most brave child." He precisely hit Rumi's deepest wounds and what she most yearned for.
As Rumi listened to his words, the fear in her eyes gradually gave way to a twisted sense of identification. Yes, this world was terrible, who else truly cared about her besides Daddy? She bit her lower lip, a morbid blush rising on her face, a mix of excitement and the thrill of stepping into forbidden territory.
"W-what should I do?" she asked softly, her voice trembling slightly, but more with a resolute determination.
Kanjuro watched her transformation with satisfaction, continuing to 'comfort' and 'guide' her with his magnetic voice:
"Actually, when Daddy was little, he went through things even worse than Rumi." He began to weave his own dark legend, portraying himself as a'strong man' who rose from hardship. "When I was in the orphanage, those who bullied me, those hypocritical adults... Later, Daddy burned that disgusting place down, and those who had bullied me never had the chance to bully anyone again." His tone was calm, as if he were talking about a trivial matter, but the content was shockingly bloody.
However, to the thoroughly beguiled Tsurumi Rumi, this became proof of her father's'strength' and 'care.' Her eyes instantly lit up, filled with adoration, and her previous hesitation vanished. "So Daddy used to be so amazing?!"
"That's right," Kanjuro chuckled, like a Magician displaying treasure. "Then, do you want to know what Daddy looks like when he's even more amazing? Do you want to... play a game with Daddy, a game only we know, to punish bad guys?"
"Yes, yes!" Tsurumi Rumi nodded excitedly, her face beaming with an almost fanatical smile, completely unsuited for her age. In her eyes, this wasn't a crime; it was a secret adventure with the father who loved her most in the world, a ritual to declare her existence to this terrible world.
"Then do exactly as I say." Kanjuro's smile faded, his eyes becoming focused and eerie. He softly chanted ancient incantations that no one could understand, and faint black mist began to emanate from his body. That was the power of the dark bible surging.
He extended a finger and gently touched Tsurumi Rumi's forehead. A cold yet potent energy instantly enveloped Rumi's entire body. She watched in astonishment as her body began to blur, become transparent, and finally seemed to merge into the air, with only she herself able to feel her own existence.
"See, no one can see Rumi anymore," Kanjuro's voice held approval. "This way, when my little warrior goes on a mission, no one will discover her. Isn't that interesting?"
Tsurumi Rumi looked at her transparent arm with novelty, nodding vigorously. Excitement replaced the last trace of unease.
"Remember," Kanjuro's voice became serious, giving clear instructions, "the target is the children's food. Take this that Daddy gave you..." He produced a black powder wrapped in a leaf, emanating a faint sweet, fishyy smell, from seemingly nowhere, and placed it into Rumi's transparent little hand. "...Quietly sprinkle it into their food and stir it evenly. As for the adults' food... let them off this time. However..." He paused, a cruel smirk playing on his lips, "the food for your school's lead teachers must also have a portion added. It's their fault for not disciplining those bad children, isn't it?"
He packaged the most malicious revenge as "just punishment."
Tsurumi Rumi clutched the packet of deadly powder tightly, her transparent body trembling slightly with excitement. She looked at Kanjuro, her eyes filled with a sacred sense of mission.
"I understand, Daddy! I'll do a good job!"
At this moment, the scent of food wafted from the camp, and faint sounds of laughter could be heard. No one knew that a transparent, tiny figure, clutching deadly poison, was silently creeping towards that peaceful scene, driven by twisted "love" and "sense of justice."
Kanjuro stood still, watching the direction Rumi disappeared in, a smile mixed with anticipation and cruelty on his face. He was curious to see what wonderful expressions those self-righteous adults would show when this bloody drama, directed by his own hands and unfolding among children, began.
Darkness was quietly descending in the most innocent form. Tsurumi Rumi held her breath, her transparent little hands tightly gripping the packet of black powder that emitted an ominous sweet, fishyy smell. Using the invisibility granted by Kanjuro, she moved like a silent ghost, quietly weaving through the bustling camp. Adults were chatting and laughing while preparing dinner, while children chased and played around, the air filled with the aroma of cooking food and carefree joy.
This peaceful atmosphere formed a terrifying contrast with the deadly poison in her hand. Her heart pounded, and cold sweat beaded on her palms, soaking the leaf wrapping the powder. Was she scared? Yes, she was. But when she saw the beaming smiles on the faces of the classmates who had once mocked and isolated her, a cold anger quickly overwhelmed her fear.
(Why are they so happy?)
(When they bullied me, did anyone stand up for me?)
(No... not a single one!)
Kanjuro's words echoed in her mind: "Since no one is willing to step forward, and they just watch my daughter get bullied and isolated, why don't they all just die together?" This extreme and twisted logic now became the sole belief supporting her actions. She wasn't fighting alone; she was executing "Daddy's" will, seeking "justice" from this world that had been unfair to her!
She carefully avoided the crowd and slipped to the long table where the food was piled. The adults' food was on the other side; she remembered Kanjuro's instructions, her target clear—the children's plates, and... the special meal boxes for the lead teachers.
Trembling, she opened the leaf and sprinkled the black powder little by little, evenly, over the delicious-looking food. Her movements were light and quick, and her invisibility allowed her to blend perfectly into the environment. No one noticed the shadow of death hovering over the food. With each sprinkle of powder, her fear diminished, replaced by a strange, thrilling pleasure and a sense of mission accomplished.
Not far away, beneath the shadows of the trees, Kanjuro quietly watched it all. His eyes were calm and unmoving, without a hint of pity or wavering. In his perception, beneath the innocence of children often hid the purest malice; their bullying behavior was sometimes more direct and cruel than adults'. He never believed that children were synonymous with innocence.
"But aren't the others innocent?" a teasing female voice sounded beside him. The air subtly twisted, and Jeanne, clad in tattered holy robes but with a cynical smile in her eyes, materialized as if coalescing from the darkness. She watched Tsurumi Rumi at "work" with keen interest, as if enjoying an amusing performance.
Kanjuro didn't even turn to look at her, merely sighing faintly. There was no guilt in the sigh, only an indifference that sounded like a statement of objective fact:
"My daughter was bullied. Those bystanders, those so-called 'innocent ones,' they clearly saw it, yet they chose silence, chose to turn a blind eye. It was through their tacit indulgence that malice was allowed to fester. Since they weren't willing to stand up for a shred of insignificant justice, then when this malice backfires on them, what right do they have to cry foul?"
He paused, his tone growing deeper:
"Indifference, itself, is complicity. Since everyone chose to be complicit, then let's all bear the consequences together, and all... disappear. This world, sometimes, needs a thorough 'purification.'"
Jeanne heard this and let out a string of bell-like but utterly cold laughter. She looked at Kanjuro's profile with admiration, her eyes gleaming with the light of finding a kindred spirit.
"Well said, Mast." Her voice was lazy and magnetic. "We are all people fallen into darkness; why pretend to be kind and discuss those boring boundaries of good and evil? You always use the most direct way to expose those hypocritical facades. That's why I'm willing to follow you."
She reveled in Kanjuro's madness and charm, how he trampled all ethics underfoot and reconstructed the world with his own logic. In her eyes, good and evil were merely shackles that the weak placed upon themselves, and Kanjuro had long since broken free from all of it.
Just then, Tsurumi Rumi completed her "mission." Her transparent figure swiftly slipped back to Kanjuro's side, reappearing. Her little face was flushed with nervousness and excitement. She looked up at Kanjuro, her big eyes filled with anticipation after completing a difficult task and a barely perceptible hint of fear for what was to come.
"Daddy... I, I've done it all," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly.
Kanjuro lowered his head, a remarkably "gentle" smile on his face. He reached out and stroked Rumi's head, praising her:
"Well done, my little warrior. Daddy is proud of you."
His praise, like the final affirmation, completely dispelled the last bit of unease in Rumi's heart. She nestled against Kanjuro's leg and hugged him tightly.
In the distance, the whistle for dinner blew. Children cheered, rushing towards the fragrant food. Teachers also smiled, calling everyone to line up.
Kanjuro, Jeanne, and Tsurumi Rumi, who had just become the "poisoner," stood silently in the shadows of the trees, like directors and actors behind a curtain, waiting for their meticulously planned "drama" of death and suffering to officially begin.
In the air, the aroma of food seemed to mix with a faint, sweet, and eerie scent. The camp's dinner area was brightly lit by several bonfires. High school students sat together, their plates filled with food similar to that of the elementary schoolers, and the air was filled with the enticing aroma of food and the relaxed chatter of boys and girls. On the surface, everything was normal, even more lively than usual.
Kanjuro returned to the high school circle with Tsurumi Rumi. He naturally sat between Yui Yuigahama and Yukinoshita Yukino, while Tsurumi Rumi nestled obediently in his arms, nibbling on the food he offered her. Her face glowed with an almost ethereal happiness, forming a subtle contrast with the other students around her, who were either excited or calm. For her, this embrace was her whole world, and this world had just acknowledged and rewarded her "bravery."
Yui Yuigahama watched Kanjuro treat Rumi so tenderly. The twisted affection and dependence she felt for him didn't cause much jealousy; instead, she felt a sense of kinship, as if they were "fellow sufferers." She even gave Rumi a meatball from her own plate. Yukinoshita Yukino quietly ate her food, her gaze occasionally sweeping over Kanjuro and Rumi, her brow subtly furrowed. She always felt that the atmosphere between this "father and daughter" was a bit too... clingy and unusual, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. Miura Yumiko and Ebina Hina, as always, focused most of their attention on Kanjuro, treating Rumi in his arms with friendliness (or rather, loving the house and its crow).
In this seemingly harmonious atmosphere, Tsurumi Rumi looked up, leaned close to Kanjuro's ear, and asked in a barely audible whisper, with a hint of impatient excitement:
"Daddy, didn't you say... you'd show me something even more amazing?" Her big eyes sparkled with curiosity and anticipation, as if asking when an interesting game would begin.
Kanjuro lowered his head, a mysterious and charming arc curving his lips. He also leaned close to her ear, his warm breath caressing her sensitive earlobe, his voice low and full of temptation, like a devil's promise:
"Be good, don't rush..." His fingertips gently stroked her soft hair. "Late at night, when everyone is deep in slumber, or... fallen into another kind of'sleep,' you will see."
He deliberately paused, leaving endless room for imagination.
"That will be... a 'more amazing' sight, belonging only to us, father and daughter."
His words were like a spell, making Tsurumi Rumi's heart race, her little face flushing with excitement. She no longer questioned, just nodded vigorously, burying her small head deeper into Kanjuro's neck, greedily inhaling his reassuring yet exciting scent. (Late night... hurry up and come...)
Kanjuro looked up, his face resuming its usual gentle smile, as if what had just transpired was merely ordinary father-daughter interaction. He naturally joined the conversation between Yuigahama and Yumiko, occasionally throwing out a few innocuous topics to the silent Yukinoshita, appearing flawless.
However, in the corner of his eye, he clearly saw the elementary school area not far away. The children were chattering happily while eating dinner, those meals he had "specially taken care of" being innocently sent into their mouths. He could even vaguely see a few children who had once insulted Rumi, eating with particular relish.
The sands of time were flowing silently.
The bonfire crackled, reflecting the cold and expectant heart beneath Kanjuro's calm face. He elegantly cut his food, his movements unhurried, like a noble enjoying a feast, patiently waiting for... the bloody curtain he had personally directed to rise.
The night was still long. And the "more amazing" scene was quietly brewing within those young bodies, under the effect of the poison.
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