Placebo. Latin for "I shall please." Used nowadays to describe things that please the mind.
A rather interesting history for the concept, really. The idea stems far back as the late 18th to early 19th centuries, long before the term became associated with psychology and medicine.
Back in the late 1700s, there was a very common medical treatment called the "Perkins tractors", two teardrop-shaped metal rods. One made simply of iron, and one made of mere brass. Anyone - not just medical professionals, anyone - could use these to treat and cure a comprehensive list of medical ailments. Inflammation, rheumatism, epilepsy- so on.
Its popularity mostly came due to... alternative methods at the time. Compare other doctors' methods of going to a professional for bleeding out the body or inducing vomiting to purge out the illness, herbal remedies that require specific plants not readily available at all times and all locations, so on and so forth... the Perkins' tractors were sold at a time when people needed treatment and were sold for "5 guinea" or "25 dollars", which - inflation - amounts it to $500 today for each pair.
An outrageous price for two small, metal rods, with English physician John Haygarth being the first to demonstrate its fallacious methods. The physician sought to prove these rods unnecessary, to completely discredit these rods as a medical practice altogether. Thus, he is the first documented person to do so.
Two wooden tractors were made in the exact shape as the metal ones, then painted over to appear metallic in color. Then, the effects of these ones are compared to patients with authentic Perkins' tractors, testing to see if the effects were truly as advertised, or... well, later proven, complete hoaxes.
Haygarth's studies and findings showed virtually no difference between the two cases. It was purely dependent on the person's- belief, their imagination, how much they believed the rods to work.
A revolutionary show that proved the medical rods to be utter fakes, phonies, a tactic of "quacks". His findings are published in his work, On the Imagination as a Cause & as a Cure of Disorders of the Body.
In essence... a placebo is a sort of medicine that had no actual effects on its own, but can still cause someone to feel health benefits regardless. Essentially, "pleasing" the patient in question, allowing effects to spawn from giving a patient sugar pills. One of the biggest tricks to stimulate a person's body to heal itself, as long as the medication is believed to be real...
... and thus, the same phenomenon is currently in effect in the office building... the phenomenon that saved Chouko's life.
For some unknown reason, there is a butterfly spreading hallucinogenic dust throughout the third floor of the building. Dust that faked her own death, dust that completely distracted and possibly disoriented the living mercenaries, and dust that now serves as her apparent failsafe.
Chouko was left- confused, perplexed about the butterfly as a whole. It had prevalent effect on her and Griffin, both, and... given her own clarity of it over Griffin's confusion- the butterfly is most definitely on her side. Almost connected to her own whims and focuses, albeit her lack of control over it leaves the butterfly an uncertain threat.
But the fact Chouko still lives, with Griffin retreating up to the fourth floor and her in pursuit... she is left only to believe she will still remain standing, so long as she believes herself protected by this butterfly's... actions.
"..." Chouko keeps the empty gun in her left hand, and takes out a loaded gun with her right. Dashing up the stairs with a cautious eye out for the invisible man, guarding herself and anticipating any sudden attacks on her- a tense look on her face as the overwhelming rush of adrenaline floods her in an unyielding cascade.
She makes it up to the top floor, forcing the door open and aiming her guns outward. A tense- tense breath sighing out as she... looks around, as she searches the floor in its darkness. Eyes out for the subtlest of shapes, listening for the slightest of sounds, slowing her own breathing to focus... focus...
Where are they? Where are the two bastards...?
Chouko stands right at the door, then begins taking slow steps forward. Looking around, ever so cautiously. Very much like the other floors, it was... another cubicle area. Another series of desks and walls and such, with the same roundabout hallway behind the elevator. Likely another series of private offices, as well.
Theoretically, the only mercenaries that should be up here are Griffin and the killer. There's a time limit before the third floor mercenaries come up to the top floor... and an even shorter one before either Griffin or the Executioner gain a clear shot on her. Griffin being the main threat, with his- very, very prominent use of invisibility... as always...
"..." Think, Chouko... think...
... tch. Chouko raises the gun in her left hand, aims forward, and fires it. Finger on the trigger, firing a shot out. Concentrating heavily as she sees and hears a bullet fire out, as she watches the bullet head straight towards the window. A sound that, theoretically, draws Griffin's attention to her...
There needed to be a trigger for this phenomenon, a possible condition behind it that Chouko needs to...
"...!"
Shortly after firing, as Chouko thought to herself about the butterflies- Chouko's eyes suddenly, tensely strain. An aching sensation attacking her eyes as the bullet fades and spreads into dust before her own eyes. A thick black and red, spreading outward and bombarding her vision with cracks.
Chouko found herself stumbling back against one of the walls, pressing herself against the right side and tensely gritting her teeth. The pain in her eyes was completely unyielding, an intense agony that compels Chouko to close her eyes shut, leaving her vulnerable and prone to attack.
And the more Chouko feels pain, the more... she focuses on this placebo effect. The pain she feels, it has to be something that benefits her. Something that- something that has an advantage behind it. The butterfly's dust saved her life, whatever's happening right now has to be a part of it...
... so... Chouko... closes her eyes... focuses heavily, and thinks: dust... dust. More dust. Focus on the dust, Chouko... focus on it...!
Concentrating with all of her might to focus on the dust, to tune out her senses and strip herself of her sight... abandoning her own body, basically, and focusing on just the dust...
"..."
And with her eyes closed... Chouko found herself just- staring at herself... from a distance. Able to see herself in this environment, viewing herself from- a noticeable cover of a wall corner.
This had to be Griffin... standing in one of the hallways, actively keeping a cautious watch on Chouko. Seeing each agonizing moment that she visibly winces in pain, watching her keep her back against the wall.
Chouko grits her teeth and further witnesses her own body from the eyes of another, suffering from the effects of whatever was happening. This phenomenon is exactly what happened moments prior, before Griffin knew she was alive, so...
... Chouko raises her left hand's gun again, the one that has bullets. She thinks hard, really- really hard, and takes quick aim- pointing the gun straight at where Griffin was seeing her from.
Chouko has a confirmation on Griffin's location... and lets out a tense, tense groan. That's his location down, now... now-
Ugh- damn...!
The vision completely fades, and Chouko's eyes are forced wide open. The aching, burning pain coursing through her eyes' nerves and veins, as if her own eyes were set on fire with a lighter. Uncomfortably blinded by this sensation, pulling- pulling the trigger quickly on instinct, firing out at the invisible blond.
Chouko- is now just left with her innate talent... her exceptional photographic memory.
Even when blinded, she remembers the room's layout- mostly. Chouko had a good scale of the room's size after her life-and-death struggle against Steele, she- found herself quickly running forward, running straight forward and taking a left. Taking cover behind the cubicle walls, back against the surface.
This is a benefit... this is a benefit, Chouko thinks to herself, repeatedly. Trying to make the most out of this- placebo of hers, completely ridding her mind of all thoughts of failure or delusion. Everything happening is the truth, and she focuses heavily on that for her own sake. For her own survival. In her mind, the burning means- recovery, it means that her eyes are healing, that they're simply reforming and regenerating... getting stronger and stronger.
... tch. Footsteps.
They're not Griffin's, definitely... it was a group of them. A distant set coming up the stairs, now, something that draws Chouko's attention briefly.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
So, Chouko needed to ready herself for a brawl. Back against the cubicle, her eyes flutter and recover, and she regains her sight. Staring forward and preparing for...
...
Shit...
When her vision comes back, Chouko- realizes the predicament she's in. Her eyes gaze forward and see the handle of a knife. A knife right under her chin, held there by the silhouette of... the killer... the leader of these mercenaries.
The Executioner.
His despicable face concealed by the darkness. Pinning Chouko against the cubicle with one of his wretched hands on her shoulder, holding her in place with a tight grip. Towering over her and looking down at the pitiful girl.
"... seems like you've found your way up here," the Executioner speaks in a mocking tone, holding his knife close to Chouko's neck.
Chouko's watering eyes stare forward at the man with sheer visceral hatred, with a glare that could pierce through the heavens themselves. Tense and trembling from being able to feel her own heartbeat through her eyes, glaring...
... in a desperate struggle, Chouko raises her gun, taking aim at-
"Ah-ah-ah..." the Executioner noises, taunting her and shaking his head.
Suddenly, Chouko's left-handed gun is snatched, slipping out of her hand and pulled away, floating. Floating in the air again, presumably- definitely snatched by Griffin...
The Executioner smirks at this, leaning forward and glaring right into Chouko's red eyes. "Suicide is the coward's way out, Ashford... but then again, you've done plenty to dig your grave already, haven't you?"
Chouko... decides to wisely not raise her right hand. Whatever it is she's holding, forgetting- attempting to forget what it is that she's holding. Given that they have yet to notice her hand, it's...
... crap. Her hand isn't holding anything...
Chouko had thought to abandon her focus and knowledge of the gun in her right hand, to test if the mercenaries would be unable to see it if she didn't pay any attention to it... but, at some point while she was blinded, she dropped it a while ago...
Tch... following this, backup arrives as the mercenaries surround them. Surrounding the three of them, guns drawn with- many of them suffering from practically self-inflicted wounds. The butterfly's illusionary dust has worn off, and the armed thugs tensely stare at the sight before them.
It's a rather... comedic one, under any other context. Armed men aiming their guns at some young woman in a doll's clothes, with guns floating in the middle of the air...
"So... here's what's going to happen..." the Executioner begins to say, about to repeat the nonsense he said moments prior. About to encourage Chouko into accepting some deal, forcing her into surrender for the sake of his deal.
"... you brainless mongrel..." Chouko mutters under her breath, interrupting him... not caring about the man in the slightest.
"Brainless? I think between us, I'm the only one that's thinking right now, Ashford..." the Executioner explains, pushing the tip of the knife closer. Making Chouko feel the- the cold, sharp metal against her neck. "I'm the one with the upper hand..."
"... I don't think you are, or that you do," Chouko responds, keeping her composure. Starting to ease up, starting to tune out her own defeat. Coldly... coldly staring forward with a look of murder in her eyes.
Right before the mercenaries' eyes, Chouko's metaphorical mask forms... covering her face once again, her rage subduing itself and fading for the time being. Concealed behind this face of hers, an unyielding rage that bleeds through her crimson eyes...
Chouko... no... Kuroiwa, is out right now.
"... you insist on my surrender, you act as if you can have me go along with you compliantly- no other methods to coerce me beyond physical threats..." Kuroiwa explains... her voice a blank, monotone, as her head tilts back and she- maliciously, oh so maliciously grins at the Executioner. "And because of all that, because of your insistence to go along with that... well... I believe your men can testify to the bodies your mindless foolishness has costed."
"Every life I've taken tonight, all of your men bleeding out, and yet you're still keeping me alive, even after all of that...? Interesting, is it not? I think your hulking brute on the ground floor had the right idea, wanting to take me out himself- even HE knows... or, rather, knew, that I would never-"
"Y... You don't get to talk about him..." growls Griffin, holding his loaded gun at Kuroiwa's head. "You don't get to-!"
"GRIFFIN!" shouts the Executioner, exclaiming in a commanding voice. His shout enough to stop Griffin, with his loudness right in Kuroiwa's face.
"..." Griffin slowly lowers his gun... pulling his gun away. His shaking gun.
"Ah... hahaha... hahahahahahahaha..." Kuroiwa laughs, heavily amused by this.
"W-What's... what's so funny...?!" Griffin asks, his invisible self glaring- violently glaring at the wretched girl before him.
"... it's just- I'm right," Kuroiwa bluntly tells him, grinning. "I have a little theory, and I think I'm a 100% right on it..."
The Executioner... holds the knife even closer to the girl's neck, glaring forward. The tip of it so close to jabbing and breaking the skin, threateningly close to just slicing her neck open...
... and yet, Kuroiwa calmly stares forward. Not an ounce of fear or worry in her body. She stands brave against the cubicle, gazing right into the eyes of the Executioner, making sure he witnesses and beholds the eerie, ominous look in her gaze.
"... what... what's your theory...?" asks the Executioner, visibly... unsettled... by this sight, the knife pulling back slightly- further confirming Kuroiwa's thoughts. Appearing to be- intimidated by this girl, prompting eyebrow raises from the surrounding mercenaries.
"Ah... curious, now? It's simple, really... I believe that you can't kill me..." Kuroiwa tells the man. Her red eyes flaring up, staring forward at the Executioner with a prideful- knowing look on her face. A smug grin on her face, a smirk that exudes nothing but full confidence.
"No, nonono... it's not that you don't want to. Of course you do, right? All of you want to kill me. But you can't. Can. Not," Kuroiwa explains, putting her boldness on display, managing to get away with every single word she's saying right now. "As much as you want, you can't physically bring yourselves to do it..."
"..."
"Well. Certainly explains why you all simply let me kill your men..." Kuroiwa tells the man. "You won't let me die, can't let me die. Your plan hinges on me surviving, on me living to tell the tale. Threaten me all you want. Coerce me, strangle me, force yourself onto me... even kill me all you want. But I know that you can't..."
The fact, alone, that these men were letting her speak her claims in full, that none of them have taken any action yet...
"... your boss... Kuroiwa, the real one," Kuroiwa tells the man, her grin widening. "He wants me alive. For whatever reason, he will make sure that I'm alive above all else, and if you kill me now, he'll kill you. That's why you've been sacrificing your men, right? Knowing full well your life is above theirs, that you can afford to lose plenty of men as long as you get to live... right?"
"..." The Executioner is left... speechless at this, staring and glaring at her.
And in that moment, Kuroiwa had her theory further confirmed. Knowing for absolute certain that she's right.
"Hah... I've struck a nerve..." Kuroiwa chuckles... before taking a calm, calm breath. "We've been playing this incessant game, this pointless back and forth between us... and you subject me to a 'join me or die' scenario when you cannot even follow through on the latter? Your aim is to force me to comply and surrender, over and over again... unable to accept the simple, simple truth that I'm-"
"An outstandingly talkative imbecile..." Griffin mumbles. "Sir, we don't have to entertain this any further... we have her in our grasp."
"Right... right. Bring over the restraints..."
As the mercenaries prepare to restrain her... Kuroiwa has yet to feel the sting of defeat. She continues to smile, to give her amused smile as the events of tonight replay over and over in her head. All she's managed to do, the fact she's come so far only to fall is irrelevant- she's come so far, anyway... it's only a final stretch before she gets out of this.
But if the restraints are put onto her... then it's a full loss.
So in the time between this order, as the mercenaries were retrieving her restraints- before her defeat, before her "surrender", Kuroiwa only needed the slightest, the slightest of chances, the slightest of possibilities, the slightest of actions needed to get out of this.
One last chance, one last opportunity to rise from the ashes, to achieve her victory and fulfill what her life has led up to...
One... single... advantage...
...
......
The dust is on my side... Kuroiwa thought.
The butterfly is on my side... Kuroiwa thought.
The pain is on my side... Kuroiwa thought.
A heavy thought weighs on her, a brainstorm hits her. In this moment of thought, as her mind quickens and the world around her slows for just a small sliver of time, Kuroiwa is left to wonder... why? Why is it that the dust is both helping and hurting her at the same time? Why are the butterflies specifically helping her, of all people?
... and... Kuroiwa's eyes... go absolutely wide in realization, a critical realization about something.
Kuroiwa's realized something vital and important... that, whenever the butterflies and dust had their way, they've given and granted her sight from the eyes of another. That she was able to, time and time again, view herself from Griffin's eyes with their influence.
Kuroiwa also realized that, whenever the butterflies inflicted immense amounts of pain onto her- it was a pain that she, alone, felt. A pain that, conceptually, overwhelmed her eyes and head, sending aching amounts of pain through her body.
And that ultimately, ultimately leads her to this new revelation. The reason why this placebo effect works for her, why she can make use of the butterflies' bizarre illusion, why it hurts her to excessively use it. She focuses on this realization as she... as she holds onto her "gun"... holds the "gun" in her hand... the "gun" still in her hand... the "gun" that never... ever... left her hand...
It isn't real... or at least, it doesn't have to be. Kuroiwa may have dropped the gun, but... an idea comes to mind, one that has her no longer needing it.
This realization... being that the phenomenon isn't just helping her... it's a part of her.
It flows in her veins, it flows throughout her body. Her senses. Her sight, hearing, touch- this placebo effect only works because the butterflies were a part of her. These illusions, the resulting pain- they're only as prevalent and intense to her as they are, because it is all within her own mind. Her own body.
For some strange reason, she's awakened a power that the world thought was just mere fantasy. A power she had yet to fully understand, a power that shines a light in the darkness of defeat, a spotlight to guide her to victory.
And here she is, taking a gambit, taking a solid risk in believing this power to be true as she holds this gun, as she concentrates heavily into her hand. Feeling the blood rush to her hand's muscles as she tenses and tightens her fingers, as she puts all of her mental energy into making a gun.
And then... eyes shifting to look at the mercenary that was approaching with restraints, the mercenary that came over with a noticeable number of handcuffing technology, she side-eyes him with- strong focus, as she turns her- hand- slowly... and...
... pulls the trigger of her hand gun.
"...!"
Kuroiwa's eyes widen with glee as the gunshot rings out, as she hears the bullet fire out. As the sound rings out, a gleeful look in her eyes. A twisted, ominous, absolutely deranged gaze in her eyes as the sound rings out, as she focuses- focuses, FOCUSES on it.
Keeping her mind heavily focused on the gun, the sound of its shot- the imagined sight of the bullet going through her own head... the feeling of it possibly tearing through her own brain, ripping a hole in her head and going cleanly through.
Kuroiwa focuses heavily on this as she then- feels her tension go up to her head... a possible gambit that might leave her head in pain, but... if she's been able to see through Griffin's eyes, able to trick the mercenaries into believing she fired a gun, then...
Then...