"...June...twenty? 1887...?" I stared at the ID, flipping through the booklet only to find the same black blocky letters, listing a family name, occupation, and address, the last of which I couldn't make out fully, due to the rain bleeding through. Droplets dripped from my hair and onto the weak paper, even as I leaned myself further under the roof shelter.
"That's my birthday except...what's with the 1887..?" I tilted my head, trying to get a better look at the blocky words in the darkness. The faint gold hue of dawn was staring to streak through the sky, but the rain clouds remained stubborn, blocking out the light as far as they could. One glance up could tell you that the town was beginning to stir, soft glows of candle light flickering behind shoji paneled windows, and the western equivalent alike. Silhouettes began to shift about, the distant clang of metal and clatter of products being moved for the morning sales within the cobblestone streets.
I paid no mind to it, the ID occupying my thoughts as I flipped through it again, The first page was that of endorsement, specified to be from the ministry of internal and foreign affairs, stamped with the seal of a snake, circling around to eat its own tail. It outlined citizenship status as born in, but an additional stamp in red and fresher ink declared that fact viable to change due to parental ancestry. The second page held a supposed birth year, the vague occupation of 'consulting assistant', and the address of residence as Building 8756, Dreary Lane, Arashi, Hyogo Prefecture.
"...The 18 hundreds? Hyogo prefecture...? What is this? A fake ID?" I ran a hand through my rain drenched hair at subconscious tendency, only to remember the ribbon I had used to tie my hair back. I stopped, and brought my hand back to my chin, glaring at the typewritten letters as if that could scare them into changing, into something that would make any lick of sense.
Nothing of the sort happened, and my eyes simply scanned the words over and over again.
Jun Watanabe. Consulting assistant. June 20th 1887. Arashi, Hyogo prefecture.
Consulting?....Like...private investigator? Or a consultant for some business company...? Its not helpful. This Jun guy could have been a therapist for all I know.
"...The rain is letting up." I muttered, my gaze shifting to the crow, which had fallen asleep on my knee after being patient for a considerable amount of time, although I was certain that I had lost track of it. I tilted my head, my eyes narrowing as I glanced at the cylinder strapped to the bird's leg, and then at the ID still clutched in my hand.
"....Are you Jun's pet or something..?" I rubbed my temple, the feel of the black claws against my my face chilling but normal by the lack of energy to fight the odd reality, my exhaustion catching up to me again as I slumped against the wooden storefront.
"Aaah.." My nose scrunched, feeling a sneeze incoming, but it just became a sniffle, leaving an itchy feeling in my nostrils.
"Damn rain..." I muttered, shifting my gaze to the crow, which woke up, its small form ruffling its wet feathers.
"...Hey." I stared at the ID, and then at the message carrier on the crow's leg. The paper which had the threatening message was left discarded in the puddle, illegible.
I could have sworn that wasn't on its leg earlier...That alley...the red eyes...? No. Lets think about this.
I don't want to think about this.
"Mind getting off my knee?" I wriggled my leg slightly, prompting the roosting crow to caw indignantly. I shushed it, my ears picking up on opening doors and windows, across the street, to the side, and the second story of the building in front of me. From my peripheral vision I could see a woman sliding a window open, spectating from her vantage point with a cup of what looks like tea in her hand.
I couldn't help feeling embarrassed, sitting in front of a store, still partially drenched, with a crow on my knee.
"..Off" I nudged the crow again, and it cooed, flapping its damp wings and landing a building away, on the sill of an opened shoji paneled window. It stared at me expectantly, letting out a coo as a the silhouette of a person shifted about in the second story window. The fog had cleared slightly, allowing me to discern the store sign which was carved into the plaster.
Groaning as I got to my feet, I stared at the sign which said nothing of particular interest. What gave me pause was not bolstered sales prices or the blatant lie about the quality of the products, but the weight of the revolver shifted in my coat pocket.
"...." I traced the revolver through the damp fabric, my gaze flitting from the crow, perched on the windowsill, to the ID, open to the face of a doppelganger I never knew existed.
Caught in a unexplainable situations, with the lack of memories leading up to the incident. Just my luck.
I grit my teeth, leaning against the store column as the crow cawed.
The rain had subsided, the fog beginning to lift, as if a curtain was being drawn, unveiling a town which seemed out of place, like a set taken out of a historical play.
Noticing movement out of the corner of my eye, I stuffed the ID into my coat pocket, glancing towards the street, which had began to stir. Figures walked about, oddly fancy umbrellas and the occasional newspaper in hand. Their kimonos were mostly a blur of colors, with some occasional pattern and the stray western dress peeking through, foreign compared to the traditional clothing of the others. They talked among themselves, and for a moment, my head swam, my sight blurring.
White haired. Every single one of them. Every man, woman, old lady. Even the little girl that tugged at their mothers kimono, pointing at a toy stall that an man in jester clothing wheeled through the streets. Even she had pure white hair, pulled back into a braid and tied with a blue ribbon.
Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.
I paused, the fliers that the lanky jester handed out catching my eye. An advertisement for a show printed in bold ink: The Royale Charade.
"Okaasan! Can I have one? Please! Its the funny man from the marionettes!" She pleaded as other children ran to the jester, picking out toys of various vibrant colors as the jester performed a few magic tricks with each coin the children exchanged for toys. The girl tugged free from her mother, ignoring the stern look she received as she joined the giggling children, clapping as the jester made a coin appear from behind her ear. Handing the little girl her prize, a small teddy bear, the jester looked around at the gathered crowd, giving a theatrical bow as one of his hands reached behind to pull at a string on the toy cart, releasing a burst of paper confetti, along with more flyers that fluttered in the wind. All timed for maximum dramatic effect, it seemed.
" Ladies and gentlemen! Its my great privilege to enounce this years show, the fantastical Royale Charade!" He declared, his voice projecting in the intersection as the enthusiastic crowd caught the fliers, some boys even jumping to catch the colorful paper, hand painted, as I could tell from the one I plucked from the air.
"For this year's show, we bring you a tale of a detective in disguise, a nobleman in peril, a thief in the night, a charlatan, a princess, and a servant of the divine!"
"Featuring the one and only, the legendary puppeteer, Mr. Marion!" He declared, throwing his arm up into the air as his gaze swept the crowd, his eyes locking with mine for a split second before he continued his speech.
"An adventure in a tale, where the actors play as themselves and the audience, the royal judges! For the low price of a ticket, you too can experience the charade, as the Royale Court and the cast play the greatest mystery!"
He paused, surveying the crowd, the painted smile on his face widening. The crowd was chatting amongst each other, excitement evident, especially the children who jumped up and down, staring at the jester with bated breath. As a gust of wind swept through, blowing a few hats off heads, and fliers out of hands and the cart, the jester snapped his fingers, every single flier turning into a bird that flew through the crowd, white feathers fluttering as the crowd gasped.
My eyes widened, gaping as I ducked out of the way of a white pigeon, craning my neck to stare on at the cloud of birds that circled above us. A flock of white against the grey sky, breathing life into the gloom of fog and smog that hugged the crowded skyline.
"And remember folks! No one knows a good show like you do, and no one knows a good judge, but you! So spread the word and come vote, for your favorite character in the charade!" He declared, the flurry of birds dispersing as they disappeared into the clouds, the jester giving a deep bow. The crowd erupted into applause as I stared at the sky, squinting my eyes as the paper fliers fell back down, drifting to the ground, not a bird in sight.
What the fu--
"Okaasan!" A boy pointed to me, his dark eyes wide with excitement. "A crow landed on his shoulder!"
I flinched, glancing towards the crow, perched on my shoulder, its feathers puffed out like a ball of fluff.
"Not you again..." I muttered, trying to shrug it off of me as I felt the stares start to be directed at me. The crow let out a ear grating caw in protest, earning confused stares, and a glare from a official looking passerby. The man in a black uniform, a gold insignia indicating some sort of government affiliation, stopped in his steps. His eyes narrowed, and I could see the flash of metal against his belt.
A pistol.
"You there, Halt." He raised his voice, his eyes flicking to the jester who was caught trying to use the distraction to slink off with the cart, the chattering crowd quieting as they turned to stare at the officer, and the crow, which had begun to groom itself, unbothered.
"Do you have a permit for the commercial use of Bleak skills? Specifically that trick of yours, number 0021: illusion. Permit-less use is a public disturbance, classified as deceit and ignorance of the law as per the shogun's decree."
The jester stopped dead in his tracks, the crowd parting as they stared at the officer. The atmosphere changed, the once cheerful crowd looking uncomfortable and uncertain.
"S-Sir...That's a misdemeanor, not an offense..." He stammered, his voice cracking, revealing how young he actually was in comparison to the older officer. He cleared his throat, and a nervous chuckle as his gaze darted about, as if looking for a quick escape. " Royale Charade is a legitimate production! We marionettes have the right to promote our show, sir. "
"The permit less use of illusion is still illegal." The officer retorted, his tone firm and authoritative. "Especially for a public trick such as that."
"B-but...I can't do any tricks without that...it comes naturally to me..." He mumbled, fiddling with the jester hat, pulling it further over his white hair, covering up a glimpse of black.
Using the lack of attention on me, I began to back away, turning away from the scene with one last glance at the jester boy. A caw stopped me in my steps, a muttered swear leaving my lips. The crow cooed, tugging at my hair, refusing to move from my shoulder as the officer's gaze flickered towards me, my hands, the claws that I had forgotten about, the crow, then back at the jester, as if deciding who to deal with first.
Fu-- He saw it. The claws.
My clawed hands flexed unconsciously, feeling a cold sweat break out on my back.
So they're...real. No one noticed yet but...maybe they just didn't point it out?
I'm a monster.
And that's an officer.
The crow let out another ear grating screech, earning a groan from the crowd as it ruffled its feathers, hopping down from my shoulder, and swooped towards the jester.
"Watch it!" I heard someone yell, as I slipped off in the opposite direction, ducking under crowd cover, and out of the street.
"I said, stop!" The voice of the officer was muffled as I rounded a corner, and the sound of footsteps behind me came into focus. I sped up, rounding another corner, into an alleyway, ducking under a jutting pipe as I tried to keep momentum, eyes focused on a small gap between two building in the alley.
If I could fit...
My feet slipped against the wet cobblestone as I made a break for it, sliding between the buildings with minimal damage, the fabric of my coat snagging on a nail. I pulled through, causing a tare as I hurtled into a busy street, only getting a glimpse of the startled faces of two foreigners, a lady and gent, before I collided with them. We fell in a heap, the foreign men cursing at me in English, their accents thick and awfully familiar.
"You goddamn...!" He hissed, anger that I ignored as I scrambled to my feet.
"Sorr-- Um, my apologies. I'm in a rush!" I switched to English, my accent snapping back into place like a curse as I swerved past them. Before I could get any further, I found myself on the ground, momentarily stunned, my arm twisted behind my back.
"Oi! Let go!" I grunted, struggling under the weight, the leather clad grip on my wrist tightening. My face was shoved into the pavement, stopping me to identifying my assailant.
"I suggest you shut your trap, mutt. Thievery isn't foreign to your type, I'm sure, but this a different level altogether..." The blond brit was leaning over me, a scowl adorning his face. "Withdraw the claws. Now. Don't make this harder for yourself."
I let out a scoff, turning my head as far as I could, the weight keeping me firmly on the ground. My mind was a mess of paranoia, fear, and the sinking feeling of being caught, helpless again. The fear of being unable to do anything.
"I didn't steal. I swear it, so please act civil." I tried to breath, pushing my panic aside as I stopped struggling.
It had just occurred to me that perhaps getting searched right now wouldn't end well, not with my tattered state, the claws, and the revolver that sat snuggly in my coat pocket.