Editing Mushi Uta:Volume 8 Prologue (section)

== 0.01 The Others ==
Holding his broken goggles in one hand, he walked among the now silent buildings.

The sun had already set, and the surroundings were dark. His clothes were torn and tattered, and only the footsteps made by his lacerated legs sounded among the alley full of vacant houses.

"Kaha…!"

Having used all his strength, he kneeled on the hard concrete. Vomited bloody spittle dyed the dry ground.

"What… the hell… was that guy…"

His leaking breath had the scent of iron.

"Was he really a Mushitsuki…? No, that was definitely… something else…"

A beast.

Or perhaps—a monster.

As clichéd as it sounded, he couldn't think of any other expression.

Leaning against a wall, he wore a cynical smile while looking up at the stars. Both his mind and body have reached their limits.

"So that means I was still… more or less human…"

The battle against his opponent at the riverside was settled instantly.

Wielding power that even he himself couldn't control, the battle was like against a child. Even landing that miraculous blow took everything he had.

Taking advantage of the split-second opening created by his opponent, he made his counterattack—and shifted the outcome.

"…Thinking that I'd be in so much trouble just running away…"

What he actually shifted was the orientation of his body.

He simply took advantage of this chance and ran away from that place at full speed.

"Tch…"

His listlessly clenched fist was wrapped by something black other than the night darkness.

This black material—or rather miasma, that creepy mist, was bad news. If he lowered his guard he would be taken over, corrupted, and have his consciousness possessed.

"…No need to feel vexed, is there…"

Wearing a weak smile, he swung his hand. The black miasma dispersed and vanished into thin air.

He'd escaped from the SEPB, the organization that had detained him.

He escaped from the mission thrust onto him.

And he also tried to escape from his loss of control.

"…"

He should've grown stronger.

He had to grow stronger.

There was something he was supposed to do, once he became stronger than anyone—

But he started forgetting what that was—

"—Am I…"

He was just an empty beast.

Just a simple Mushitsuki coward who ran away from everything.

"—Going to die here?"

Vague fear started spreading in his heart.

''I don't want to.''

''It's cold here. There's no-one here.''

''I don't want to die here.''

''At least give me some more time—''

''Just enough time to recall my dream—''

It happened when he clenched his weak fist.

"—So, this is important. When you're doing a background check, you need to approach the target like this, not allowing them to notice you're tailing them, and then end everything just like that?"

He heard a voice.

His consciousness, on the verge of drifting away, barely returned to reality. By habit, he searched for the owner of the voice.

"So you're lacking in emotion, Kirarin. Of course, making a preliminary investigation is important too. In conclusion you need some taste, yeah!" 

The voice belonged to a girl seemingly around his age, meaning a teenager. The conversation being carried out with a special way of talking while putting emphasis on the "yeah"—perhaps this was because he was tired, but it was incomprehensible.

At first he thought she was speaking with someone on a cellphone.

"Are you there, Kirarin? Oh no. I've been swaying around too much while walking, yeah."

Yet his ears also picked up on small footsteps other than those belonging to the voice's owner.

Apparently two people were talking together.

"…Ah?"

He heard a girl's surprised voice. Running footsteps approached him.

He vacantly looked up the owner of the footsteps that stopped nearby.

Illuminated by the electrical light, the girl who was wearing some distinctive uniform was looking down at him.

First he noticed the pink jersey adorning her torso. From the belt of her miniskirt hung a small case like that of a gunman from a western. On her head was a strangely-designed school cap.

"Hmm? Hmmmm?"

The girl stooped down, glaring at the boy's face. The pigmentation of her short hair was light, allowing him to see her neck. Her youngish face was lovely, but he couldn't understand the meaning of the letters "momo" painted on her check.

As if thinking of something, she pulled out an object from the case at her waist.

It was a marker.

Commonly known as a thin pen used to draw letters on white paper and such.

"It'll still be very beautiful even like this. Like some fantasy created by carving out a part of reality."

Muttering to herself, the girl suddenly pointed the marker at him.

He felt the cold sensation of the marker on his brow. With a serious gaze like she'd been possessed, the girl was running her marker all over his forehead.

He knew the pattern she was drawing from how it felt on his forehead.

"…"

It was a simple symbol consisting of an arrow mark intersected with two straight lines.

But he had no idea what that symbolized.

"Coatl Coatl Para Emile."

Finishing her work, the girl recited with a satisfied smile.

A somewhat warm yet mysterious sensation was born inside his chest. 

Yet that was all.

The night's silence swallowed the deserted residential district.

There was the girl, who was smiling extremely joyfully.

And him, who was dumfounded by this and looked up at her.

That was his meeting with Tanaka Momo.

There was no nervousness, exaltation or anything else but a sour silence.

If any of them had any sort of predictive abilities, perhaps they would have described this moment in the most clichéd way possible.

Fate—

An awfully hackneyed expression, one that would get laughed at.

In reality, the two merely smiled at each other.

"…Naturally, even the Coatl Head charm doesn't help in this situation."

The girl's smile was strained.

He couldn't understand the meaning of her actions at all.

"Kirarin, Kirarin. We have an injured person here, so let's apply first aid."

After taking these weird actions, the girl finally reached a sensible decision.

The moment after he heard the voice seeking help, the silent footsteps moved quickly. The figure swaying from afar rushed to him as if sliding on the ground.

It was yet another young girl. Her slim body was dressed in the uniform shirt of some school. On the slanted bangs of her hair—cut downwards from left to right—she had a star-shaped pin.

The movements of the girl called Kirarin seemed skillful. Standing unperturbed near his filthy and wounded self, she checked his pulse, illuminating his wounds with a penlight she brought out.

Yet suddenly she raised her face in surprise. She looked around her.

The girl holding the marker flapped her hand.

"Nah, you don't have any nurse uniform. This isn't the time to be cosplaying, yeah."

The person called Kirarin looked a bit sad but returned to treating him.

"Police? Ambulance? Or should we splurge and call both?"

Seeing that the jersey-wearing girl pulled out a cellphone, he tried rousing his body.

''Don't—''

Letting the officials know of him would be bad. Yet he couldn't let out a voice from his throat.

"Don't move."

Kirarin spoke for the first time. She had a voice that could calm and relieve anyone who heard it.

"If you move too much you'll be in a state of shock—"

While speaking, she then saw the goggles he was grasping and widened her eyes.

"You're…"

Gazing at his face again, she said something unimaginable.

"Are you perhaps—Kusuriya Daisuke?"

This time it was his turn to widen his eyes.

Who was that girl? The names of possible organization rose to his mind in succession.

"If I said I was… what would you do?"

He barely managed to squeeze out a hoarse voice.

"Kirarin, d'you know him?"

"He's an acquaintance of an acquaintance—no, not really."

The girl called Kirarin grinned.

"It's the continuation of a past request… maybe."

The other girl put a hand on her chest. Perhaps intending to welcome the injured boy, she gave him a slight bow.

"Welcome to Handyman Kirari☆."

When she'd lowered her head, there was a small metallic sound from the girl's pocket.

"Striving to be reliable and quick, I shall help you."

Reflecting the electric lights, there was something shining in the girl's pocket.

A necklace with a vividly glowing golden ring hanging from it.

If his meeting with Tanaka Momo was a miracle, then perhaps this mysterious handyman being here was predestined.

Ikarino Kirari.

That girl, connecting Mushitsuki with those who weren't Mushitsuki, was the most suitable person to watch over the end of the Fusion Type Mushitsuki who feared his own power.

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