Editing Mushi Uta:Volume 6 Chapter 5 (section)

==5.04 The Others==

It happened during the few days of preparation before the grand opening. 

Jarre Harissi was inside the building where the audition had taken place.

He climbed up the silent stairway with a heavy gait.

"Masaki Rio has conquered you. You have lost to Masaki Rio…"

A formless voice kept whispering into Jarre's ears. It was like this ever since the final audition and his joint performance against Masaki Rio. 

Masaki Rio, desperately struggling while lacking belief in her own talent and possibilities, was supposed to overlap with the figure of his past self. However, with his rational thinking lost due to the influence of a mysterious miasma, Jarre had attempted to trample over her dream.

Yet he had lost.

Masaki Rio had brushed aside his acting, accomplishing her own.

"Ugh…"

Jarre was climbing the stairs.

Having Rio pass was obvious. He had found acting that outdid even a pro like himself. Her talent was immeasurable, and she would keep polishing her skills from now on. 

On the other hand, Jarre ended up feeling despair at his own age as a result. 

"Thou art a pitiful loser…"

The creepy, hoarse voice kept blaming Jarre even now.

"I'm a pitiful loser…"

He had been betrayed by what he always found important. 

Watching over Jarre ever since he was small, at times spouting cruel words, at times becoming his strength. It was the only thing he wished to improve.

It was always nearby—Jarre's dream. 

Every time his talent and his possibilities were being tested, the one to appear next to him and try to discourage him was his other self.

''Will it go well?''

''Ah, it's already useless.''

''No, I can still do it—''

Every time he faced his dream, he would ask and derive answers out of himself as if standing in front of a mirror.

Even though Jarre retired from active work, he couldn't throw away his dream.

"Thou hast lost… And therefore do I need thee."

Jarre widened his eyes.

"In this city there were two people fit to become mine vessels… And therefore I have come here."

As if being controlled by someone, Jarre reached the highest floor.

Opening the door at the end of the stairway, the unceasing rain filled his vision.

"One has a dream tinged with lingering attachments, ripe and mature… The other flutters between a sparkling dream and pitch-black despair… And therefore I have chosen thee…"

A cracked metallic sound could be heard from somewhere.

To the current Jarre, who had lost to the girl overflowing with possibilities, it sounded so sweet he felt a shiver. With every ring the air became fouler and he breathed it into his lungs.

Jarre stepped ahead, exiting into the raining rooftop.

"Ahhh…"

Staggering ahead while walking, a black miasma gathered around Jarre. It slowly took form, changing into a filthy robe.

Jarre grabbed the fences and pulled. They were ripped from their bases with a crushing sound.

"Uh—"

Looking far down at the person below, Jarre's face twisted in fear. 

It was Masaki Rio. He wondered why she was there—perhaps the being that whispered to him had called her there.

The sound of a bell echoed from overhead.

"Thy ruined despair is as great as the luster of thy dream… Yet that woman has beaten thee. She is not yet fit to become mine vessel…"  

The hoarse voice whispered. 

"Thou can show it to her, the girl that has beaten thee… Show her what happens at the conclusion of being pursued by thy dream for decades; show her thy broken and pathetic figure…"

Jarre widened his eyes.

It was just like the formless voice said. Jarre pursued his dream and once achieved glory. Yet this honor was short-lived, and he started struggling in order to retrieve his shining days.

Months and years went by fast.

Before he noticed, Jarre started wondering whether this past glory came only due to luck.

Doubting his own talent, Jarre became increasingly pitiful. Perhaps flying around the world and coming in contact with young talent was an attempt for him to recall the passion of his bygone days.

But in fact—

"But were you not, in fact, envious?"

There was a part of him that felt jealousy towards those children that had what he lacked.

Jarre's expression was changing. Hatred toward these young talents, as well as towards the world that didn't acknowledge him, was swelling inside him.

"Show her… Although she shines now, one day her dream shall be shattered and she shall become as pitiful as thee…"

With his expression warped by this ugly feeling, Jarre stepped off the rooftop and into air.

There was a sudden sense of falling.

"I have chosen thee…"

The voice became different, inhuman.

"It is the loser, with his dream broken and drowned in envy and wrath, which I do desire as mine vessel." 

While falling down Holland City, Jarre was filled by a sense of liberation.

"Thou art the one fit to become mine vessel…"

''I see, so I lost to myself—''

To his dream.

To the beautiful yet harsh world.

Somewhere in his heart controlled by deep despair, he could feel a sense of relief with no suffering.

—Jarre Harissi had lost his life, changing into the vessel of Shinpu, but a small part of his ego remained.

During the time his body was restored enough to operate, it had mostly been taken over by his hatred toward the world and Shinpu's consciousness. 

Even while he was moving from the city toward Oranje Land.

Even while he was fighting against the warrior who could control magnetism.

The small vestiges of Jarre Harris's consciousness remained inside the lifeless vessel.

After encouraging the theater staff in Oranje Land's waiting room, Jarre walked towards the locker area.

"Ah—Ah—"

A small girl was there, becoming pale upon seeing his face.

Masaki Rio.

She should have lost her peace of mind ever since Jarre had shown her the moment of his death. 

It was natural. The unsightly form of Jarre back then was to become Rio's future. 

"Thou cannot escape my whispering any longer…"

As Jarre wore a malicious smile, Shinpu spoke toward Rio from overhead. 

Shinpu's will was transmitted to Jarre through his body. 

Masaki Rio could be called his spare vessel. Letting her see Jarre's death was only a binding spell placed on her by Shinpu.

By suggesting this was her future, he told Rio that before she noticed there would come a time when, just like Jarre, she would lose all hope in her dream—

"If I were to lose this vessel, I shall come for thee again…"

Only Jarre and Rio could hear the reverberating bell sounds and the hoarse voice.

This was no blessing.

This was the fate of someone who received a "curse". A whisper one couldn't escape from.

"Uuhhh…"

Rio's face drained of all blood as if she were sick.

It was a great sight. She should no longer be able to act properly during tonight's performance.

No, today's show would not succeed regardless.

"Only thy heart I shall not devour today… For now, at least…"

Jarre turned his back to Rio, walking away.

The people gathering in the Concertgebouw have invited Shinpu.

Jarre's body seemed to have great affinity with Shinpu. Since he was overflowing with power now, he should be able to devour everyone's hearts for his nourishment. 

"Jarre—san—"

The girl probably voiced this without intending to. Rio called Jarre's name.

Jarre's consciousness, on the verge of fusing with Shinpu, reared its head.

"…"

He turned around with stiff movements. 

It was like a flash of light—he saw his past self overlapping with Rio.

The young Jarre had found a dream and pursued his ideals single-mindedly. Even he shuddered and trembled just like Rio did just now. He felt anxious at his own talent, wandering in the boundary between hope and despair.

Scenes of the life he had led rose to his mind one after another.

At times he succeeded and at times he failed.

But he had no regrets.

His way of living while fighting his dream single-mindedly belonged to none other than himself.

"Please—"

As Jarre came in contact with children that had a promising future, he certainly felt jealous.

But it wasn't all.

There was also a hope shining with dreams.

He was, without any doubt, a scout, and so guiding them was his raison d'être. 

Rio as well should have been one of his students. 

"Continue believing in yourself."

He showed her a gentle smile.

This was Jarre's first and last teaching.

Even if her dream was ruined, even if she would be encroached by her own despair—

She would never lose what she gained by imagining her dream.

"…Huh?"

Rio asked back with an astonished face.

But this was the last resistance of the personality known as Jarre Harissi.

By the time he turned his back to her again, his expression had changed to that of Shinpu.

As Jarre exited the waiting room and went into the corridor, life was gone from his eyes and the miasma converged around him. It became a filthy robe, cloaking the man's large body.

The man's body swelled beneath the robe. It became thicker as if bursting from the inside. The caterpillars that moved his body squirmed under his inflamed skin.

Scraping his hooded head on the ceiling, he arrived at the emergency exit so he could search for an audience seat.

The body of the man that used to be known as Jarre Harissi perfectly became Shinpu's.

"Now then, it is time to feast… on these mortals—"

The numbers of people assembled in the Concertgebouw added up to several thousands. Among the people filling all the seats there were also many adolescent boys and girls. Looking forward to the grand opening, all of them had sparkling expressions.

The large body wrapped in a robe shook at the sweet scent of their dreams that nearly made him choke.

"I shall satiate mine hunger…!"

And thus Shinpu—no, Diorestoi's fragment raised a joyous roar.

The sweeping miasma swallowed the audience.

The cracked sound of a bell reverberated throughout the whole stage.

Sounds overlapped, extended and grew louder.

They increased. 

Sound called for sound, filling the Concertgebouw with foul sounds.

The images of a "Church" were materializing one after another above the heads of the boys and girl sitting in the audience. 

From small to big, over a thousand "Churches" were filling the tall ceiling. 

Being pulled in by the domain of Churches, the children's expressions became blurred as if they melted—

"Khaaa…!"

Diorestoi's fragment opened its mouth wide in ecstasy. 

Unlike the other Original Three—Diorestoi had the ability to eat countless of dreams all at the same time. Just as he could possess several bodies, Diorestoi could only produce an amount of "Churches" equivalent to the number of dreams.

His fragments until now could only eat one person's dream at a time, but now that he gained the compatible body of Jarre Harissi, his fragment became powerful enough to swallow up the entire Concertgebouw. 

The dreams eaten by the fragment would sustain the flesh and blood of his main body far away. If he kept eating dreams using this powerful vessel, when his main body was released it would probably eventually become able to swallow the entire country—

[[File:Mushi Uta 6 p332-333.jpg|thumb]]

The other audience members, noticing the abnormality, started stirring. Among them were also those with strong spiritual powers, apparently able to see the "Churches". They pointed at the ceiling and clamored.  

The dreams flowing in through the "Churches" were about to flow inside Diorestoi's opened mouth—

"…!"

The bell sounds became blurred. 

The countless images of the "Churches" were being nullified. 

The humans who have escaped the powers of Diorestoi tilted their heads quizzically. He had only managed to activate his ability for an instant, so he was unable to eat even a single person's dream.

A powerful and different power offset Diorestoi's domain. 

"Who art thou…!"

Averting his eyes from the audience that wondered if this was part of the performance, he turned toward the corridor at his back.

A powerful presence was approaching at dreadful speed.

Rushing through the corridor, it was drawing near in the speed of an arrow.

The owner of that power finally pressed near Diorestoi.

"OOOOH…!"

The strong power sent Diorestoi flying. Something grabbed him at high speeds, pushing him further into the dark passage. 

"Curses…!"

The swarm of caterpillars opposed the one resenting them.

Yet the enemy's power was terrific.

Blowing away the caterpillars, Diorestoi's body, forcibly flung away, stabbed through the door of the emergency exit. He crashed into the ground, cracking the asphalt behind the Concertgebouw. 

Further attacks assaulted him. 

A fierce blow struck Diorestoi's chest. As he was pounded against the ground and rebounded, his opponent teleported in pursuit to stab him. 

"OOOH…OOH!"

Diorestoi's big frame was flung afar just like a bullet. Stabbing through a windmill he crashed into, he was blown several hundred meters away.

His opponent was apparently attempting to change the battlefield from the Concertgebouw. As Diorestoi broke through the fences of Oranje Land, his opponent had already anticipated his arrival there, teleporting for another attack. 

Knocking down trees, crushing the road, Diorestoi's body was helplessly exiled from the premises of Oranje Land.

"GWAAAAAAAH!"

His opponent raised a roar.

As Diorestoi was kicked up high, further attacks knocked him away. Scattering the miasma, Diorestoi crashed—on top of the roof of the all-weather dome. 

"—So thou still plan on standing in my way…!"

Diorestoi's momentum crashing into the vast dome's roof caused a part of it to cave in. 

His mad miasma produced a "Church" in the night sky. The curved dome roof transformed into a swarm of caterpillars.

This way of fighting…

This beastlike roar and fighting spirit…

This awesome power unworthy of humans that pressured him… 

All of them were exactly the same as those of the opponent he had supposedly defeated by his own hands earlier.

"Thou girl who calls herself a warrior…!"

Diorestoi used Jarre's face to glare at the person landing on the ground.

"Hihah."

Yet his opponent had not beast-like eyes, but a broken smile; he was not a girl, but a boy. 

"Who's a girl? You seem to be mistaking me with some raincoat freak."

The boy declared this mistake, yet his expression was fit to carry the name of a berserker. 

Shiohara Shachito's "final test".

Its form was a "supplementary lesson".

—Start.