2026-07-12: There's Nothing Going On
- Cutscene: There's Nothing Going On
- Cast: Kazusa Motojima
- Where: Kazusa's Studio, Akihabara, Tokyo
- OOC Date: July 12, 2012
- IC Date: Saturday, December 08, 2012
- Summary: Kazusa has been dealing with some inconvenient thoughts since she fought Isabeau in Mementos. Or that is to say, she definitely hasn't, and she definitely isn't going to deal with more of them when she has a chance to isolate herself in her studio for a while.
Kazusa locked the door to her studio behind her and leaned against it, letting out a sharp hiss through clenched teeth as her back made contact. The coach had drilled her on her walkover especially hard today, forcing her to bend over backwards onto her hands repeatedly until the motion had been perfect. She let her school bag and gym bag drop onto the unfinished concrete of the loft apartment's genkan. She tried to let the tension out of her shoulders, to let them drop, but they felt like gears that had been overworked until they had jammed and seized.
And just like the tension in her body something had been gnawing at the edges of her thoughts. This one she couldn't even identify yet, but it had left her feeling agitated, with a hair trigger.
… oh, who was she kidding. She was always like that, despite wanting to stop being that person. And the fact that she was utterly failing to do so only made her more upset.
Kazusa sighed and kicked off her shoes, pushing them with her foot until they were pointed towards the door. Reluctantly she pushed herself off from the door—her back sent a sharp jolt of fire lancing up her spine as it protested the loss of support. Kazusa stepped over to her house slippers. They were pink, sitting next to a yellow pair—Wakana's—and now a new, blue pair—her brother Kazuhiro's—next to several beige pairs.
The yellow slippers hadn't been used in a few months. Kazusa tried, and failed, not to think about how she and Wakana had decorated their slippers together when Kazusa had first gotten the studio. She sighed and slipped her feet into the pink pair, then stopped, despite her body's complaints, to grab both bags.
It was only a small step from unfinished to finished concrete to bring her into the apartment proper. Her gait was stiff; now that she was alone she finally stopped trying to hide the stiff ankle she'd received from a badly-landed leap. Kazusa suppressed the shiver as the concrete threatened to steal away whatever warmth the cold December air hadn't taken. The gym bag was tucked against a wall under a large grid of glass and steel, the school bag on the round wooden table in front of the small kitchenette. She circled around the table to grab a reusable ice pack from the freezer and gingerly lowered herself into a wooden chair. She carefully lifted her leg up onto the other chair—she made a mental note to buy some cheap cushions—and dropped the ice pack onto her ankle.
She gritted her teeth as biting cold stabbed into the angry sea of strain, but then relaxed as the numbness and relief slowly set in. Sadly, no amount of Dia ever seemed to cure these wounds.
She picked up her phone, and a few quick taps set a timer. A few more opened up her contacts, and she slid her fingers over the screen to scroll through them. Kazusa frowned. Why did she keep doing this? Her eyes settled on three names in particular as they flitted by: Sakuri Gaman, Koshina Muroichi, and Maron Tsuchiji.
She'd totally brushed them off a few days ago when they'd been tormenting Isabeau, but… judgemental and cruel were words she could just as easily use to describe herself. And deep in a part of herself she dared not acknowledge, Kazusa feared those words did still describe her.
And it didn't help that they were the types of girls who once looked to her for validation, either.
And yet, if she just removed them… brushing them off was one thing. To unfriend them… No, it still wasn't worth it. Not yet. Kazusa flicked her thumb to let the names fly past.
Kanae Fuyuki… They seemed to actually get along a little bit? Kazusa had never found anything to criticize her for: good grades, school club, boyfriend, just… socially put together. Maybe… a quick text, to say hi, to see how she was doing? Just a little bit of contact. Kazusa's thumb hovered over the icon to send a text message.
No, better not press her luck. They weren't in the same class, they'd already hung out last week, she didn't want to be a nuisance. Kazusa quickly moved her thumb down to keep scrolling.
She lingered on Hazuki Nakao's name. She'd definitely been one of Kazusa's victims, but… she'd also been one of her saviors, too. So willing to just… reach out. To ask her to join her in helping others.
Unbidden, she recalled the moment after her Awakening, when she'd succumbed to the sheer exhaustion of her month in torment and the battle to free herself… and instead of hitting the floor she'd been wrapped up in Hazuki's arms, holding her upright. It had been… warm. Hazuki had been radiant, in a way that Kazusa still had trouble defining, from the way she'd held her steady, the way she'd looked at her and told her it would be okay.
… that smile…
Kazusa felt a heat rising up in her chest and her cheeks. It was a quiet but persistent thing, and it even took some bite out of the bitter winter air. But she shook her head as reality came crashing back into her thoughts. With the time difference…
Still, there was so much she wanted to say, despite not knowing the words. Reluctantly, she kept scrolling.
But when she reached Wakana Oosaka's name she set her phone down on the table, face down, then pinched the bridge of her nose. Her oldest friend, the only one she had ever entrusted her real self to, once things with her father had grown strained. The art, the cosplay.
And she'd ruined it. Cut by cut. Every time she snapped or lost her temper, demanded more perfection for a routine or even just… blown up at somebody in public and counted on Wakana to smooth things over. The Homunculus had been the one to place the straw that broke the camel's back, but Kazusa was all too keenly aware she had blithely piled the rest of it on first.
And she'd give anything to try and fix things, but… what could she do? Wakana had asked for time, and space. She wanted to see that Kazusa had changed. Kazusa was trying—she knew, instinctively, she could not continue on as she had, and Mina Harker was proof of that—but it was hard, and slow, and Kazusa sometimes feared no amount of time would ever be enough.
But more than that she just wanted to see Wakana be happy again. Even if—
Kazusa scowled, and the pressure on her nose increased sharply until it hurt. With a sharp gasp Kazusa forced herself to let go, though her nose still throbbed a few moments longer. Just like every other night she'd found herself here the last two months, she'd again found a reason not to message anyone. Things were probably better that way.
She picked up her phone and started scrolling aimlessly online while she waited for the timer she'd set to run out. Her social media feeds were full of school rumors, and gossip, and even though she didn't want to play that game anymore, she still felt compelled to stay informed so she could protect herself for… however long it took her to figure out what the heck she was supposed to be doing.
The timer went off, cutting through a text thread gossiping about who was caught making out with whom. All the details had been blurring together, and Kazusa sighed in relief as she silenced the alarm and set the phone down. She carefully reached for the ice pack, gently easing herself into the motion, then slowly stood up, testing her weight on her ankle. Better. Good enough to hobble around the small studio apartment.
She let herself take her time and made her way over to the small fridge to toss the ice pack back in the freezer, then fetched the electric kettle, filled it, and set it to boil on the counter.
She took care to keep the weight off her bad ankle as she walked stiffly to the closet by the entrance. There she kept a precious few changes of clothing, things she'd never let herself be caught dead wearing outside where other people could see her. Out there she had to be polished. Refined. Here, she could be comfortable.
The closet door slid open, and Kazusa frowned as she looked inside. She only had a couple of t-shirts left. She picked up the pink, oversized hoodie and sniffed it. Something stung her nose and she yanked her head back. "Ugh. How did I let that get so bad…?"
She sighed and dropped it into a plastic laundry bag, then pulled out an identical charcoal gray one. Sniff—still good. She'd have to do laundry later. Or… maybe next week, after she'd had a chance to rest her back. Kazusa stripped off her uniform, shedding the weight of Shujin's reputation. On went a soft t-shirt, the plush, oversized charcoal hoodie that swallowed up her gymnast frame, and a soft pair of purple joggers that would both protect her legs from the chill and offer more freedom of movement.
While she dressed, the click of the electric kettle bounced off the bare concrete walls and floor, signaling that the water was ready. She let it sit and took her time dressing—it would stay hot for a few more moments, and time was a luxury she was rarely afforded.
Once dressed, she let out a long, slow sigh of relief. The ever-present tension in her shoulders was slowly starting to unwind. Making her way back to the kitchenette, she pulled a cup of instant ramen from the cupboard. It was probably one of the worst possible things she could have. Her father and her coach would protest the impact to her figure and her health, probably in that order. Her mother would bemoan the fact that she wasn't having a proper, home-cooked meal, while offering to show her bento preparation techniques or just to make her extra bento outright. And she would still find a way to comment on Kazusa's appearance anyway, even if she thought 'it would be a shame if…' was somehow a gentler critique.
Kazusa spent so much of her effort on her rhythmic gymnastics, her appearance, her social standing… she didn't want to spend one more moment on this than she had to. Still, even as she told herself she didn't care, she couldn't escape the bite of guilt that always hit her as she peeled back the lid. Kazusa poured the hot water in and sealed the lid, then picked up her phone to set a three-minute timer.
This time she resisted the lure of social media, instead watching the Akihabara landscape outside her window. By the time night fell it would be a riot of light, but even in the afternoon she could hear the rumble of distant trains. When the timer went off, Kazusa slipped it into her pocket, picked up the ramen, a pair of chopsticks, and a canned coffee, and carried them over to the corner of the studio that contained the loft and her desk.
The desk was tucked under the studio's loft along with two large metal bookcases. The loft itself didn't hold a futon; it was just storage for cardboard boxes. Kazusa paused to look over the various anime, manga, and games she kept there. No, nothing was really grabbing her attention at the moment. Well—
Kazusa scowled as she watched the yelling Isabeau, her grip on her whip tight enough to make her knuckles white. She didn't know what Isabeau thought she was trying to prove, but Kazusa didn't like the way more Shadows were being drawn to the battlefield.
Unfortunately, reason seemed in short supply. "You will not charm me!" Isabeau shouted. "I am the one who is charming! MIELIKKI, SHOW THEM!" And then the winged, green-skinned woman that was Isabeau's Persona—
Kazusa scowled in frustration, shaking her head quickly to clear it. No no no. None of that. Her hands were starting to clench, and she just barely stopped herself from squeezing the instant ramen cup. If she felt warm it was just—the warm clothes she'd put on, and the steam wafting out of the cup. That's all. Inhaling the steam, Kazusa tried to calm herself down.
She moved on to the desk. It was C-shaped, with a pair of monitors in the center, under which were a plush rabbit and owlgirl. Behind them, she'd had to awkwardly slide her Tower over to make space for her Motobox 3, along with an inconvenient nest of splitters and adapters. But Kazusa was grateful to have it at all; if it hadn't been for her brother Kazuhiro's timely intervention against their father's wrath… Better not dwell on that. To the left was her Quintic drawing tablet set into a heavy duty metal frame, and to the right, her analogue drawing implements, or—as in this case—simply a place to set her food, if she wasn't working on a drawing.
Kazusa set the cup of noodles down, then popped the button on the underside of her canned coffee causing it to hiss and heat up before setting that down as well. With a sigh, she lowered herself into the steel and leather chair her grandparents had also purchased. The mesh gently cradled her back, but the lumbar support kept her from collapsing completely, and the soft hoodie provided protection from any potential discomfort. She reached for a pair of pencils and a hair tie, quickly putting her hair up into a loose, messy bun, reminiscent of her grandmother's, then picked up a pair of blue light computer glasses and perched them on the end of her nose. She didn't need them, but she liked the aesthetic.
Waking up her computer, Kazusa set a video to play then picked up her ramen to slowly eat it. "Mmm." Terrible, but that made it more delicious. The warmth settled in her belly and started to calm her down, though her racing thoughts still made it difficult to concentrate on what she was watching.
And then the winged, green-skinned woman that was Isabeau's Persona stepped forward and began to perform her Sexy Dance, her body moving in mesmerizing ways.
Kazusa stared in confusion. "What is she doing—" And then all at once she flinched back, but she found herself utterly unable to rip her attention away. Her face heated up. "Wh-wh-wh—why would you tell your Persona to do something like that!?
Kazusa scowled and pressed the palm of her hand to her forehead, applying an even pressure as she tried to chase those thoughts out of mind. Her palm felt cool, but her forehead felt uncomfortably warm."No, dammit," she muttered to herself. "I am not—"
Inspiration. She needed some other inspiration to think about. Something new she could draw or some kind of art challenge or anything to distract herself from the thoughts that had consumed her the last four days. She put the noodles down and started to scroll through the art blogs she followed. After several moments of not finding inspiration she let out an agonized sigh. "Alright. Last resort."
She pulled up a website with some random generators on it and swore to herself that whatever came up, she would draw, no questions asked. Kazusa took a deep breath, and hit 'Generate.' The webpage refreshed itself, and filled with text. This aloof vampire has—
All the tension that Kazusa thought had eased out of her shoulders suddenly ratcheted tight again. Her eyes snagged on that word. Vampire. Why did it have to be a vampire? No, this— Kazusa shook her head. Do-overs for vampires had to be allowed.
"Fine!" snapped Kazusa. "You want to see my Persona's power? I know exactly what to show you!" A blue butterfly drifted in front of her, and Kazusa lashed out with her whip to smash it. The butterfly dissolved into a swarm of sparkles that flowed around her to summon her Persona, Mina Harker, once more. Mina formed, as always, in a half-human half-vampire state, with her right half pristine and her left half twisted and corrupted with a red eye and ashen skin.
A chill made her limbs tremble, sapping her strength, a lingering effect of the chill Isabeau's teammate had inflicted on her. "Mina!" she shouted before pointing directly at Isabeau. "Help me get some energy back, and then—use Media!"
Kazusa knew what this attack would entail—how could she fail to know, when this Persona was some part of herself being manifested? Mina let out a loud hiss, her red, corrupted eye flaring with light. Instead of raising a hand to cast a spell she lunged forward, fangs bared, as she sought out—
She wrenched herself away from the screen, her breath sharp and ragged for a moment before it evened out. "F-fine," she said out loud to nobody in particular. "I'll just— I'll prove that this is stupid, and that there's nothing going on, and that this is just—some kind of spell that Witch has put on me or something."
She pushed herself out of her chair, wincing at the twinge in her back as she circled around the desk to get to the loft's ladder against the wall. The loft was primarily storage, filled with cardboard boxes holding things like computer hardware or old art she dared not keep at home. But it wasn't one of those boxes she carefully made her way towards.
She opened a box filled with manga she never even let Wakana know she liked. Horror and thriller titles, things that provided a visceral thrill totally unlike anything she was 'supposed' to like. She pulled out two volumes and made her way down the ladder to sit at her desk once more.
Kazusa set the two volumes on her desk and pointedly ignored them as she took a few more bites of her ramen and drank her coffee while they were still warm. She let the ache in her back and ankle subside, too. Once she had fortified herself, she set the food off to the side and spread out the two volumes. Blood Conquest + and Bloodletters. The first featured a black, inverted Catholic cross, and the latter a dripping knife over an abstract gash. And they both featured vampires in the exact type of situation she needed to see.
Kazusa picked up Blood Conquest +, scanning the pages until she reached the two-page spread, featuring a male vampire embracing his female victim in his arms, his cloak wrapped around them both. The woman was arching her head, a blissful expression on her face. The vampire's fangs were embedded into the soft, vulnerable flesh of her neck, and little rivulets of blood could be seen flowing down her partially-bared shoulder.
If Kazusa was being honest it was maybe a little lurid, but that was part of the appeal, too. Kazusa felt her heart rate spike for the briefest moment, the same way it always did when she enjoyed something she wasn't supposed to. But that was it. It didn't persist the way—
Kazusa slammed the manga volume down with a sharp huff. The chopsticks lying across her ramen cup threatened to roll off, and she snatched at them before they fell. Once they were secured, she picked up Bloodletters next. This one was grittier and less romanticized. It traded a gothic castle for a grimy alleyway, with the vampire lead here succumbing to a moment of passion and pinning the human love interest against a brick wall. There was no blood in this shot, just the promise of it as a grazing fang left a shallow, barely-there scratch along the woman's skin.
And there it sat in Kazusa's hands as she stared at it. She could appreciate the art, the storytelling, the themes, or whatever else, but… it just didn't speak to her in a way that she knew it did to some others. She'd read plenty of comments online about fans gushing over this aspect or that, and all of it, Kazusa herself had never felt. Kazusa let out a frustrated grunt as she dropped the second volume back on the desk.
"That's it," she declared out loud as she picked up her noodles again. "Just… some kind of weird— A weird side effect of that attack, that's all. But I checked, and obviously it's not anything." Kazusa stabbed her chopsticks too aggressively into what was left of her ramen. She closed the generator and started the video again, trying to settle back into it.
Five minutes later she was scrolling through imageboards, video and ramen both forgotten. Her chin was propped on one hand, elbow resting on the desk, while the other hand worked her mouse. The tension in her shoulders had crept up to her brow now, a deep frown set as she flicked by image after image. "Come on, come on…" she muttered to herself. Official art. Fan art. Ships. Different art styles. Different series. Crossovers. Different character archetypes.
And still nothing. A frustrated scowl crept out of her throat. Wakana liked romance movies. Kanae didn't particularly care for them but still had a boyfriend. Plenty of girls dated—lots of gossip was spilled over it, some of which she had spread. And even though she hated that damned Homunculus it had been right about some things—like the fact that she had never dated.
What was wrong with her?
Kazusa winced, and forced herself to sit upright and roll her shoulders to try and force some of the tension out of them."This is stupid," she muttered to herself. "Your father is just going to try and arrange some kind of marriage anyway, so what's even the point? Just… let it go." She crossed her arms, staring at the screen as the potential future reality set in, and with a long, dejected sigh leaned forward once more.
This time she wasn't looking for anything, just clicking blindly to see if anything might catch her attention. Her eyes skimmed the list of series tags, and one she wasn't familiar with popped out at her: Blood Lilies. "… huh." She clicked the tag to enable it, then clicked search. The results came up, Kazusa blindly clicked on the first one—
Kazusa's heart skipped a beat as she drew in a sharp, startled breath.
In soft, hazy lighting, the image depicted two women standing in a moonlit garden. The first had pale skin, long, black hair, eyes that were pools of deep, black ink, and a sleeveless, deep cut red gown. Her eyes were lidded, and her hand was raised to gently brush away the second woman's hair to bare her neck. Sharp fangs were gently sunk into the soft flesh.
The second woman had light brown hair, her head was arched, eyes closed, with her face flushed and lips slightly parted. She wore a strapless pale green dress. And she was embracing the vampire, holding her close, almost as if she was begging for it—
"This society does not accept me," Isabeau explained of Sexy Dance. "So I will make this, too, into my power." When Mina lunged, sinking her fangs into Isabeau, the other girl arched her neck and wrapped her arms around Mina to embrace her. "Ahahahahaha! Wonderful...!"
A fiery heat erupted in Kazusa's chest, and it quickly swept up her neck and into her face, turning it burning hot. She let out a startled gasp, hand flying to her mouth as she stared at the image.
She clicked to move to the next image. It wasn't another bite. Instead, it was the same two women, seated together in an elegant parlor, moonlight streaming through the window. The vampire—Himari, judging by the character tags—was in the same deep red gown but reclining on a plush velvet seat. The mortal woman—Ryoka—was curled up by her side, head resting on Himari's shoulder. Himari had one arm loosely draped over Ryoka's shoulders, and both were holding a book.
Kazusa held her breath as she studied the scene, tracing the intricate details, the subtle interplay of cool silver light against warm fireplace glow, but her eyes kept being drawn back to the two women. They seemed so… casual. Relaxed. Comfortable.
Something unsettlingly deep opened up underneath the fire in her chest. A cavernous ache that it hurt too much to think about. Why did her chest feel so hollow? Why did she want— Kazusa furiously shook her head and clicked to the next image.
Kazusa's eyes flew wide open, and her face immediately flushed bright scarlet as the world turned blazing hot. Himari and Ryoka were wearing far too little now, having moved to a bedroom, and Kazusa's brain jammed as she tried to process just what it was she was seeing.
She bolted from her chair and turned away, breath shaky, trembling hands clutched to her chest. That… that didn't count. It was still—it was still vampire-themed. It was just reminding her of Mina and Isabeau. Obviously. So it didn't count.
Kazusa forced a deep breath. It did little to still her racing heart. She tried again. Still no change. Fine. She'd work around it. Obviously, she just needed to check something that wasn't vampire-related and she'd clear this whole thing up. She approached her computer sideways and reached out to her keyboard to close the tab without looking at the screen, then sat down again.
"Okay," she said aloud, mostly to try and console herself. "I'll take a quick look, I'll see that there's… there's nothing there. And I can put this whole stupid thing behind me." Steeling herself, Kazusa opened up the image board, guided the mouse over to the Yuri tag, and clicked.
An hour later she sat back in her chair, hand snapping out to slam two keyboard keys and force the browser window closed. She stared down at her lap, her mind whirling with all of the images she'd just seen. Why? Why did that all…
Her throat was so dry. Kazusa reached for the can of coffee to take a sip, and grimaced as the cold liquid hit her tongue. When had this gotten so cold? She set it down to pick up the ramen cup, then stared down at it. It was still half-full but the cup felt cold and clammy by now. "Ugh. Forget it." She set the cup back down on the desk.
Kazusa shook her head. No. No. She couldn't— she didn't have time for this. She forced herself up from her chair, picked up her cold coffee and noodles, and took them over to the kitchenette to clean them up. What she needed to worry about was finals coming up. Her head should be in her books, not in… whatever that was.
She only went back to her computer to start a playlist, then returned to the wooden table to pull out her textbooks. Her midterm performance had, frankly, been miraculous given the tight time constraints she'd been under and the lost month due to that Homunculus, but she wouldn't settle for 'acceptable' this time.
The thoughts kept trying to resurface, but she stubbornly battered them down with historical dates, mathematical formulas and scientific facts. She had to be rigid, disciplined, and controlled. Everything else rested on that. Later, after packing up her things, she got changed again, shedding the comfortable hoodie and joggers for her stiff school uniform.
But as she stood in the genkan, slipping her feet into her shoes, she paused to take one last, lingering look at the darkened computer screen. One last curl of warmth rose in her chest, but she tried to ignore it as she stepped out the door into the cold hallway.
A lock clicked into place, and then the studio fell silent.