Nier:Fio
Fio
Character Story
Story 1
This is where I play: An old ruin a little ways from my house. It’s my special place, and I don’t wanna tell anyone about it. I always come here when I want to be alone.
But one day, there was someone else here, which had never happened before. It was an older girl reading a book in the shade—I remember she looked kinda sad. I could tell right away she was a Noble: Her clothes were beautiful… And she was the prettiest person I’d ever seen in my life! After a second, she saw me staring and gave me a weird smile.
“You want this book?” She asked me.
“I’m done with it.”
I took it from her, but I was nervous the whole time; I’d never actually talked to a Noble before!
Story 2
The book she gave me was a collection of children’s stories. It had tons of pretty pictures, and I’ve read it every single day since. Each story was about a princess who fell in love with a prince. It was so different from my own life, and it helped me forget how sad everything was for me, if just for a little while.
But the book was also weird: All the pictures of the princesses had been scratched over with black ink… And the last page of every story was torn out. While I was certain all the princesses would live happily ever after… I also wanted to know how the stories ended, which meant I needed to find the Noble girl.
Story 3
Eventually, I decided to go into town and look for her. It’s not just that I wanted to know how the stories ended—I also wanted to see her again. Because even though I knew we were worlds apart, I still thought I might be able to be her friend.
There was a lively wedding taking place in town that day. And while the pretty bride in her white dress was surrounded by crowds of people, she looked so very lonely. I recognized the bride right away. It was the Noble girl. Part of me wanted to run up and congratulate her, but I hesitated. Because even though everyone around her was smiling big, she looked like… she was screaming on the inside.
Story 4
I had a dream. In it, the Noble girl in her white dress was trying to tell me something. “Don’t lose ⬜⬜ ⬜⬜,” she said. As she talked, red started to spread out from her chest, staining her nice white dress. The color was far too sad for the nice Noble girl, and I woke up from the dream in a panic.
I went back to playing alone in the ruins. But one day, I noticed something stuck between a couple of stones. It was one of the missing story endings. It showed the prince and princess at their happy wedding. Later, I started hearing rumors in town:
But I know they’re not talking about the nice Noble girl, because all princesses get to live happily ever after.
Dark Memories
Story 1
Rainy Winter, Sleeping Princess Part 1
[
]
Months before she was cast down to the lowest class
“Is this dress too garish?” My sister drew up her shoulders as she spoke, grasping the hem of her beautiful white dress. It was generously decorated in layer upon layer of delicate lace, with small diamonds sparkling here and there. I let out a small sigh as I stared at her. “You look lovely, my sister. And well you should, for today is certain to be the finest day of your life.”
My sister nodded, satisfied, and turned this way and that to better admire her reflection in the mirror.
We were twins, both princesses in the land we called home. Though we shared a visage, my sister was bright, sociable, smart, and popular. She was the very image of perfection. Whereas I was shy, dull, not at all clever, I didn’t have many friends… I was wholly unremarkable. This day, my sister was setting off on a journey to be wed to a foreign prince. It would be a grand ceremony on a scale I had never seen. Our country and the prince’s had long been at war, you see, but this wedding would unite our families and finally bring an end to the seemingly eternal conflict. It had all been set in motion by our mother—the queen.
The day was clear, and a warm sun sat high in the sky. Before stepping into the jewel-studded carriage, my sister turned to take a final look at the castle where she was born and raised.
“I will birth a son and raise the next king, Mother,” she said with pride.
“So wait and stay safe until then.”
With these words, she entered her carriage. Moments later, the carriage set off with great pomp. It would be several days before she crossed the border, so she settled in for a long ride. It sparkled in the sunlight, as though lighting the path ahead.
What a perfect beauty! What a perfect wedding! What a perfect prince!
I was so proud of my sister; seemingly nothing was beyond her reach, and she had accomplished everything she ever set out to do in life. I knew her future would be bright, with nothing but great things waiting for her. That’s how her life always was, after all. I waved and waved until the carriage vanished from view.
……
………
…………
The girl slowly opens her eyes. Then closes them. She had been dreaming again. In her dream, she was a princess. She is disappointed that sleep has fled; she wanted to see more. For even though she wasn’t the lead princess in this particular dream, it was still much nicer than her usual nightmares. Defeated, she opens her eyes, gazes for a moment at the foul, grime-covered ceiling above, and rises from her shabby bed. Today, she will study hard, help however she can, and spend another day being a very good girl.
“Good morning, Mommy. Do you want to hear about my dream?”
She greets her mother cheerfully, as she does every day. The older woman does not even look up; she just continues peeling potatoes.
“Dreams are nonsense, girl, and you’ve no time for such foolery. Now eat your breakfast and get to school.”
On the table is a bowl of thin gruel and a heel of bread. The girl sits on a rickety chair and pulls the food close. The bread is hard enough to shatter teeth. But it’s all Commoners like them can afford, so she’s quite used to it.
“Last night’s dream was special, Mommy. I was a princess!”
Her mother sets a potato down and turns to stare at her daughter. Her eyes seem to bore holes in her.
“I told you to knock off that fool talk. You’re a Commoner, not a Noble—and you never will be.”
The girl is well aware of this.
Even the youngest child knowns of the country’s strict class system. Here, the disparity between Nobles and Commoners is great indeed. The Commoners have long been discontent with their lot in life, and the Nobles worry increasingly about social unrest. But the girl had no wish to argue politics—she simply wanted to make conversation with her mother. Stung, she drops her eyes and quickly finishes her breakfast.
“I’m going now, Mommy.”
The girl hurriedly gets dressed, gathers her things, and leaves the house for school. Winter. A most rainy season. Though the rain has stopped, puddles still dot the road. She stands at one and looks at her face reflected in the water. She does not look like her mother. Nor does she look at all like her father. She senses she is not much loved by either. And she believes her face to be the reason. Suddenly angry, she stamps on the face in the puddle and rushes off to school. She is determined to study hard and win her parents’ praise.
Story 2
Rainy Winter, Sleeping Princess Part 2
[
]
The roses were finally blooming. From my window, I saw the bright red flowers stretching out as far as the eye could see. The buds had been firmly shut for so long, but warm weather had finally come yesterday to loosen winter’s icy hold. But as magnificent as the flower garden was, I had grown so very weary of looking at it. I had been staring at it since the day I arrived in this country…. Since the day they locked me in this room. To pass the time, I started counting the roses. When I reached the 48th rose, I spotted the prince walking alongside his young and beautiful princess.
I knew the princess well. She was my twin, after all. A group of Nobles followed them, chattering merrily away. The castle, a fun and lively place for most inhabitants, hosted a tea party in the garden at this time every week. Delighted peels of laughter soon intermingled with the clinking of porcelain. I quietly slipped out of view and listened in.
“You have been beaming with happiness every day since the wedding, Your Highness.”
“People all across the land speak of the princess’s beauty!”
It was true: The marriage of a prince from the west and my sister from the east was on the lips of people in both countries. Of greatest concern was when she might bear him a child.
That was the reason I am here; the reason I was summoned to this place soon after the wedding was complete. Because I…I am to birth the prince’s child in place of my sister.
“Oh, I can hardly wait! Will it be a prince or princess?”
“No matter what, I’m certain it will be adorable.”
“I’ve heard His Majesty the King has already prepared several midwives for the happy day.”
It didn’t take long for the prince and his court to realize his new bride was barren. So I was smuggled into the country in the dead of night. No one could be allowed to know of my existence. Of course, I would do anything for my sister.
Anything….
I just thought she might come see me at some point.
“The sun is beginning to set.”
“You should not be out and about in the cold, Princess. Let us return to the castle at once.”
As the crimson glow of dusk began to fill the room, the lively voices grew distant. It seemed the party had ended. I moved from the window and began preparing myself for the prince’s arrival—for though my sister had not seen fit to visit, he arrived every night like clockwork. And there, in that darkening room, I waited.
……
………
…………
The loud ringing of a bell pulls the girl back to reality. She had been unable to concentrate during class; she kept thinking about last night’s dream. The sun sits high in the winter sky, its rays peeking through gaps in the clouds to brighten the classroom. It was the continuation of her previous dream, the one where the princess rode off in a carriage. The girl is yet young, and while she does not understand her dream completely, she knows that Nobles sometimes have to do what their parents say and live a life not wholly their own. In this way, she finds being a Commoner a relief. And once she is grown up, she hopes to live a life of even greater freedom.
The school she attends is specifically for Commoners. Everyone, from the highest-ranking teacher to the lowliest student, is still a Commoner at the end of the day. The classroom grows lively as some of the more impatient children begin to gather up their textbooks.
“That’s all for today,” says the teacher.
“Oh, but before I forget, I have the results from last week’s test.”
The teacher looks directly at the girl and smiles.
“Your classmate here had top marks yet again. I hope you all learn from her and study hard!”
The girl happily hugs her textbook to her chest at the news. She runs the whole way home to tell her mother.
“Mommy, Mommy! Guess what!? I got first on the test again!” Her mother is standing in the living room with her back to her, holding a large mug in her hands. She slowly turns around at her daughter’s voice.
“If I study lots, do you think I could become a doctor or a lawyer?”
Her mother finishes off the contents of the mug—which is clearly some sort of alcohol—and slams it down on the table. The scent of her breath fills the room like a cloud.
“Are you mad, girl?” she says loudly.
“We’ve not the money to let you study forever.”
“Now clear your head of these fool dreams and get to the laundry!”
Dejected, the girl leaves to fetch the hamper. For a brief moment, a long-buried thought rises up in the girl’s chest:
What if she’s not my mother? We look nothing alike, after all.
She shakes the thought away.
No. I love her. Even if we aren’t related by blood…
But the poor girl’s desire for love has no outlet, so it simply continues to swell painfully in her chest.
Story 3
Rainy Winter, Sleeping Princess Part 3
[
]
Winter had arrived; the flower garden was cold and barren. But inside a heated room, a newborn baby made its first cry.
“Oh dear. A girl.”
The midwife holding the baby made no attempt to hide her disappointment; nor did the king and prince, who were both leaning against a nearby wall. With sweat running down my body, I instinctively reached out to hold the new life I created. But they do not even grant me that kindness.
“A shame,” said the king.
“Very well. Dispose of her at once.”
He and his son left the room without another word. But the princess—my twin sister—remained.
“You there,” she said to the midwife.
“You are dismissed.”
The woman froze in place for a moment. Then she set the baby down, bowed, and scuttled out of the room along with the rest of the women who attended the birth. The last time my sister and I were alone was a year ago—when I praised her exquisite wedding dress. But I lay still and quiet in my bed, unsure if I should view this as a heartfelt reunion or begin begging for mercy.
“This is your fault, you know? What I’m about to do? If you’d just given birth to a son, it wouldn’t have come to this.”
With that, my sister produced a small knife from her pocket…
…………
Cradling my newborn daughter, I ran from the castle with only the clothes on my back.
My mind was chaos.
They were going to kill my daughter. My own sister was going to kill her! Why!? Why, why, why!?
I had no answer to this question. But then again, I’d never been especially bright. I came to this wretched country for my sister’s sake. I bore a child for my sister’s sake. All for her sake. All for her sake all for her sake all for her sake…
I had nowhere to go. A traveling merchant kindly allowed me to ride on his cart, and after a night of hard travel, I woke up in a small border town. On the harsh midwinter morning, a mixture of snow and sleet rained down without mercy or pause. Having pushed my body to its limits right after giving birth, I was stricken with a high fever and fuzzy thoughts. But my sweet daughter was warm and dry in a thick blanket, and as I held her to me, my troubles seemed to dissipate. She was asleep. She looked just like an angel.
“Hey, there’s someone on the ground over here!” I heard footsteps splash in a puddle near my ear, and the voice of a young woman echo above my head.
“Heavens, she’s got a baby…” Another voice called out—a man this time.
“Aye, I fear this girl’s done for.”
“Poor thing. To think she’ll be leaving this child behind…”
They almost seemed to be talking about someone else. Apparently I collapsed, though I did not remember it. I could hear my daughter crying nearby. Despite how hard the sleet was coming down, I could do nothing for her; I did not even have the strength to stand. Thankfully, someone had found us. With great effort, I turned my head and looked at the couple. Please…raise her as your own. Make her happy. The words I had intended to say never made it from my mouth. The chill of the sleet pounding my body slowly faded away, the sound growing distant…distant…distant… And finally, my conscious faded….Forever.
……
………
…………
The girl briskly walks through a bone-chilling cold. Her mother had sent her out to fetch their bread ration. It’s a rainy winter day—just like the one from her dream. She is wearing every layer she owns, but the sudden downpour cuts through her garments like a knife. As she listens to the never-ending torrent, she thinks back on the sight she dreamed of that morning. Now that I think about it…
It’s funny how the couple that found “me” on the ground looked a lot like Mommy and Daddy…
“Mommy! I’m home!”
The girl, her pigtails dripping, produces three loaves of bread from the inside of her coat and grins happily. The bread is a bit damp, but dry compared to the girl. Her mother, who was warming herself at the hearth, takes the loaves with a bit of a guilty look.
“Thank you, girl. Now hurry up and get changed! You’re dripping water all over the house.”
As the girl slowly peels off her clothes, she only thinks of one thing: I hope that made Mommy happy…
Story 4
Rainy Winter, Sleeping Princess Part 4
[
]
“How long are you planning to sleep, child!? Get up already!” The woman throws the bedroom door open. Her daughter, who usually wakes up on her own, has slept late into the morning today. She stomps over to her tiny bed.
“Come now, get up. I need you to fetch the bread again.”
The woman throws back the blanket on the bed to reveal the girl lying there languidly, her face red.
“M-Mommy… I think I’m sick…” croaks the girl.
“I’m cold and hot all at once…and I c-can’t move…”
Her mother places a hand on her forehead. She is burning up. The woman immediately recalls how she sent her out in the sleet the previous day to fetch their food. Then she emits a small sigh and pulls the blanket back in place.
“Well then, never mind the bread. You just rest.”
“Th-thank you, Mommy…”
As the woman gets up and makes to leave, the girl calls out to her weakly.
“Well?” says the woman.
“What is it?”
“I wanna slurpy apple,” replies the girl in a pitiful voice.
“Is that okay?”
The woman stares at the child in the blanket. She never asks for things, she thinks. Without a word, the woman closes the door behind her. And to request slurpy apple—a grated fruit treat she used to make her when she was small—is even stranger.
She walks into the living room to find her husband peeling off his coat, still damp from his turn on the watch.
“Raining again,” he says.
“Awful stuff.”
The woman places a bowl of warm soup on the table. Her husband peers down at it, clearly disappointed, but she chooses to overlook this. With a small sigh, he digs into his meager meal. But after a few moments, he suddenly puts the spoon down.
“Hey, how’s the kid?”
“Feverish. I’m letting her rest today.”
“I swear, that child is next to useless.”
The woman sits opposite her husband and plucks an apple off the table.
“She came home soaked after her errands yesterday—probably what made her ill.”
She picks up a small knife and begins peeling the fruit.
“You sent her out in that?” says her husband.
“Hells, the other guards won’t even leave the barracks when it’s coming down so.”
The woman stops peeling and glares at her husband.
“Oh, so now I’m a magician who knows exactly when the rain is going to start and stop?”
Her husband wisely turns his attention back to his soup. The woman returns to her peeling.
“You know, she’s not a bad kid,” he says finally.
“You don’t have to be so cold to her.”
“Honestly, sometimes I feel like she’s…wasted on us.”
The peeled apple skin curls into a neat pile on the table.
“You’re right there,” she replies.
“Why, if she had our genes, she’d grow up to be a frightful beast just like us!”
The man looks down at his bowl again; silence was always his retreat when things weren’t going his way. The woman picks up the empty soup bowl, takes it to the kitchen, and returns with a grater. She slides the apple against it, creating a harsh rasp.
“You know I hate it when she rubs our differences in my face.”
The sound of the apple on the grater hangs heavy in the air.
“It’s almost her birthday,” says the husband. He stares out the window as he talks.
The rain is coming down harder, turning into sleet.
“I mean, not like we know exactly when she was born…”
“But we found her on a cold, rainy day much like this one.”
The grating slows as the apple is worn down to nothing.
“She’s starting to look like her mother,” says the woman after a long pause.
“Won’t be long until she realizes she don’t look like us at all.”
“Aye, that woman was a great beauty indeed.”
The woman glares at her husband again, but says nothing. Instead, she gets up and tosses the apple core into the sink. With the bowl of grated apple in hand, she returns to the girl’s room.
Her face is still red, but she is at least sleeping.
Pity this poor thing ending up with us when she could have lived a good, free life as a Noble.
The woman reaches out to touch the girl’s cheek, but stops. Instead, she places the bowl on the nightstand and leaves. The girl is beginning to realize she is not their true daughter. And yet, she does all she can to earn their love. But her looks aren’t the only thing that set her apart: there is also her purity, her honesty, and her bravery. The beauty of her very spirit tells the couple how different she is…. Perhaps they made a mistake taking her in that day. The apple sitting beside the girl begins to brown. It grows darker still. Uglier. Horrid. But the girl notices nothing in her deep, deep sleep.
Recollections of Dusk
Story 1
A Wish in Full Bloom, Part 1
[
]
It is a terrible, terrible monster. His body is jet-black armor, and he has twisted insect wings on his back.
And sometimes, the monster comes to this world and EATS people.
This is why we must all unite and fight him whenever he appears.
……
…………
………………
As a light spring breeze dances through the plaza, four young girls sit around an open picturebook. The image on the page displays an eyeless, ebon monster. It resembles a large insect, yet is somehow uncannily human. The sight makes the hair of all who see it stand on end.
The children take one glance at the picture and begin to scream with both terror and delight.
The tale of the monster has been passed down in this country for an age.
The picturebook which now entertains the four children is based upon it.
The girls enjoy themselves regardless—huddling close, laughing, scaring one another.
But then comes the sound of light footsteps—thin soles on flagstone.
The four girls look up from the book, their frigid gazes alighting on the source of the sound. It is another girl, her hair tied back in pigtails. Her head hangs low. On her neck and wrists are manacles and a collar, a symbol of her status as a Goat Person.
Goat People
.
That is the name for this nation’s lowest class of person. The Goat girl attempts to hurry past the other children, trying not to look at them as she does. And then…
“Hello.”
The leader of the four gently calls out to the Goat girl.
The lone girl’s face brightens.
The leader’s personality can be a bit overbearing, but she is a good student, and her greeting sounds both pleasant and sincere.
The Goat girl is delighted.
But as she is about to return the greeting, she falls forward.
Her words are swallowed by cobblestone and shame.
The leader has tripped her.
She looks at the Goat girl and laughs, and her friends soon join in.
Goat People are the lowest of the low; they are meant to be abused without reason or cause. This idea has diffused itself among the young children.
The leader then speaks: “We are honored to be in the presence of a Goat Person this day, girls! Now…shall we play Monster?”
Play Monster.
In this game, one child takes on the role of the monster while the others pursue them. And, of course, the Goat girl is to take on the role of monster.
The other children throw the book at the lowly girl’s feet.
The open page shows the dark monster standing by himself.
He is hated. Just as she is. And so the girl begins to run. She runs and she runs and she runs—for she knows
terrible
things will happen if she is caught.
As she flees for her life, she eventually comes to a desolate and aging ruin. It is her precious, secret spot for play. Though it is typically worn and dirty, beautiful flowers bloom here at this time of year. After she ensures the other girls have not followed, she crouches down among the blossoms and breathes a sigh of relief. When her ragged breath finally calms, she lifts her head…
Only to be greeted by a surprising sight. The man-eating monster stands before her with his jet-black body and hideous insect wings. He waits silently among the colorful blooms.
“Are you…Mister Monster?” asks the girl. Her voice is a whisper’s memory. He remains silent. Suddenly, a thought comes to her:
We are the same.
The dark creature is her twin in all but name.
“Are you lonely, Mister Monster?”
She approaches him slowly. Flowers dance in the wind around her feet. “I think you are.”
Poor Mister Monster. Everyone hates you just like they hate me.
She gently places her hand on the silent monster. Strangely enough, she feels no fear. What she sees in front of her is not some terrible brute, but a creature who is alone no matter where he goes. A creature just like her. This is why she is not afraid.
Story 2
A Wish in Full Bloom, Part 2
[
]
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The Goat girl’s light footsteps echo across the plaza. She makes her way for the blossom-covered ruin. Her secret spot where the monster waits.
“Hey. You.”
A voice suddenly stops her in her tracks. She turns to find the four girls who are always playing in the plaza. The leader has called to her. “You haven’t been coming by lately. We miss you! Why don’t you play Monster with us today?” A cruel smile twists the corner of the girl’s mouth as she speaks. They want to play Monster with the Goat girl so they have an excuse to cause her pain.
The Goat girl’s eyes drop to the ground. She takes a quiet step backwards. “I’m sorry,” is all she says before dashing away.
The children exchange bewildered glances. The leader’s expression twists further. Her mind reels.
That
Goat
disobeyed me! ME!
Also, she’s been in a strangely good mood lately.
It makes me sick.
No Goat Person should ever smile like that.
The leader’s eyes bore into the girl’s back as she runs.
One. Two. Three.
One. Two. Three.
Red flower. Blue flower. White flower.
The girl’s voice echoes throughout the ruin, which overflows with colorful flowers. She moves around the aberrant monster, dancing ballet on a beat of three. Only recently did girl and monster meet, yet already they are in perfect sync. It’s as if they are partners—as if they have been dancing together for the whole of their lives.
One. Two. Three.
The girl dances.
One. Two. Three.
Flowers nod.
One. Two. Three.
Wind blows. Petals flutter this way and that in the air.
Suddenly, the girl gasps in wonder, her dance coming to a halt. Both she and the monster look to the sky. They see petals soaring though the blue.
“Where do you think the flowers are going, Mister Monster?”
The monster does not reply. He is ever silent, never speaking. But the girl feels she hears his answer regardless. His voice is gruff, yet kind. Time spent alone with the monster is unbelievably precious to the girl. As a Goat Person, all she has ever known is abuse. But this lonely monster makes no attempt to wound the girl. This is why she hides away in the ruin.
It is so she does not have to face a painful reality. Yet while this is all happening…
A lone figure hides among the crumbling walls, quietly watching the girl. It is the leader of the children who play in the plaza. She thought the Goat girl’s pleasant mood strange, and so followed her in secret. And when she came to the ruin, she beheld a most confusing sight. The Goat girl was dancing by herself. Laughing by herself.
Mister Monster!
The leader watches in silence as the girl turns to empty space and calls to the monster over and over again.
Story 3
A Wish in Full Bloom, Part 3
[
]
The Goat girl’s bindings garner cold stares as she walks through town. But she does not care. For no matter what terrible things might happen, she has the companionship of a very kind monster. Yet another day finds her racing down the street for the ruin where the monster waits. Suddenly, she comes to a halt.
Smoke tickles her nostrils. Her face clouds. Something is on fire.
Knowing this bodes ill, she makes for the ruin as fast as she can.
I hope Mister Monster is okay
, she thinks to herself.
She soon arrives at the ruin. It is ablaze. Flames billow from a great pile of discarded junk. Broken chairs. Shattered clocks. The flames lick at the flowers, threatening to turn everything to ash. The ruin was meant to be a secret place for herself and the monster, and now it is lost.
“Mister Monster, no!” cries the girl. She sounds as though she could start sobbing at any moment. The monster is sitting listlessly in the middle of the ruin.
He’s going to die.
But as she leaps into the flames to save him…
“She’s here! The Goat is here!”
High-pitched laughter scratches the girl’s ears. She turns in the direction of the voice. The four girls from the plaza are waiting for her. Their leader takes a step forward, a lopsided smile on her face. In her hand she holds a stick, the tip smoldering with flame. She realizes these four are the ones who set the ruin to burn—the ones who stole her special place.
A black snake worms its way into her heart. She has never felt such an emotion before.
“You’re awful…” she mutters fiercely. “How
dare
you do this to Mister Monster!”
“Mister Monster?” The children exchange glances and begin to snicker amongst themselves. A moment later, the leader speaks.
“Your ‘Mister Monster’ doesn’t exist, Goat. He’s just a thing from a picturebook.” The leader had glimpsed the girl’s secret. She saw her playing by herself. She saw her speak to empty air.
“You poor thing. You must have been so
lonely
!”
Her words tear at the Goat girl like glass.
“Don’t you get it? You made the monster up!”
“……”
The girl remains quiet, her eyes glistening under tears.
But then…
“No. He’s here. I know he’s here.”
She refuses to acknowledge it—she
cannot
. Doing so would mean her only friend does not exist.
“Are you okay, Mister Monster? You must be in so much pain.”
With teetering steps, she enters the flames. She finds herself entering an empty space. Flames lick at her legs. Her arms. But she pays them no mind. Because she can
see
. She sees the monster sitting amidst the fire, his body covered in burns. He is her precious friend.
Her hand brushes empty air. But to her, it is the monster’s cheek. She crouches down to pluck a single burning flower at the monster’s feet. Hot fire chars her palm. The pain is an idle thing. Distant. For she knows the monster suffers far more than she.
This is all
their
fault.
Her gaze rests on the burning flower.
Dancing flames reflect in dull eyes.
Story 4
A Wish in Full Bloom, Part 4
[
]
The sun sets.
Darkness falls over the area. The once-dancing flames, now clinging to life, cast an eerie light on the ruin.
The children who started this fire are long gone, returned home to warmth and family. They had amassed the junk and lit the spark.
The ruin—the secret spot for the girl and the monster—is now little more than a wreck.
The girl stands silent. Alone. She stares at the monster, who is now a shriveled thing covered head to foot in burns.
Your “Mister Monster” doesn’t exist.
The leader claimed the girl’s monster was merely a vision. But the girl never had any intention of acknowledging that truth. Her monster is here. He is
right
here. Yet the children filled the ruin with garbage and set it ablaze all the same. They hurt her monster.
Hurt
him.
I will not let them get away with this.
A new emotion, dark and heavy, encroaches on her heart. She picks up a piece of kindling and sets fire to the tip, creating a torch. Then she begins to walk. Her steps are unsteady, as though possessed by some entity. She arrives at a beautiful house, a dwelling that resembles the magnificent homes one might see in picturebooks. It belongs to the leader of the children.
The girl lifts the torch. Her mind whirls as she stares into the flame. The leader of the children set fire to her ruin. She burned her monster. Which means… Which means…
Which means she can destroy her home. She can destroy what the other holds most dear.
Burn it all.
With darkness urging her on, she raises the torch high above her head and thrusts it forward. Fire crackles. Sparks fly. Before her, something begins to burn.
…It is the monster.
The torch never reaches the leader’s house. Instead…
The monster has leapt in front of her, letting the flames strike him. Almost as though he is trying to stop her.
“Mister…Monster?”
The monster falls face-first onto the ground, his burning body writhing in pain.
“MISTER MONSTER!”
She rushes to him.
“I’m so sorry, Mister Monster! This is my fault! This is all my fault!”
All she can do is weep. She repeats her apology as she clings to the monster’s blazing body. But then she realizes something…
The blaze enveloping him holds no heat. Because the monster is nothing more than a figment of her imagination. Somewhere deep inside, she had known this—yet acknowledging it was a weight too heavy to bear. Because the kind monster had always been by her side. And yet…she hurt him. The monster’s hand trembles and gently brushes her cheek. It is incorporeal. Cold. Yet she imagines warmth anyway.
He’s so warm…
It is a strange warmth, one that makes her feel the darkness which had overcome her heart is beginning to fade. The monster’s body quietly burns in the gloaming. It twinkles. It shines. Finally, it turns to ash and begins the long ascent into the sky.
“Goodbye, Mister Monster.”
I had so much fun.
I had fun dancing with you.
I…fun watching flowers…in the wind.
I…fun…you silently…my side…
And…
And…
The girl realizes something. As the darkness that had encroached on her heart fades away, so too do her memories of the monster. The monster has taken all of her twisted feelings with him.
“Thank you, Mister Monster.”
Her memories dim, then fade. Soon the girl does not understand why she is crying at all. Yet she continues to repeat herself.
Goodbye. Goodbye.
She does not fall silent until the final speck of ash has vanished into the heavens.
……
…………
……………………
The junk sits in a pile in the ruin. The beautiful spring blooms are gone. She is sad her secret place was laid to waste like this, but she is a Goat Person. It is to be expected. She repeats this to herself as she begins cleaning up the junk. “There we go,” she says as she lifts a broken clock. Suddenly she stops. Her heart catches in her chest. Beneath it, she finds a small flower still in bloom. The rest are blackened ash, yet this one alone remains. It shines brilliantly in the dark. A strange feeling suddenly bubbles up in the girl’s heart.
I miss you.
I don’t know who you are…
But I miss you.
We’ll play together when I see you again. We’ll be even better friends.
Bewildered by the sudden well of emotion, the girl falls to her knees beside the flower. She begins to pray. She does not know the name of whom she misses, nor what they look like. But whoever they are, they have given her such
warmth
.
And so, she prays she might one day see them again.
Hidden Stories
Story 1
Story 2
Story 3
Story 4
Story 5
Angelic Sacrifice
[
]
Mama: If I were to describe her in a word, it would be…angelic! Yes, that’s it.
Carrier: seems you ain’t been acquainted with her more devilish side yet.
Mama: Society can be so cruel. How could they possibly sacrifice a blameless child?
Carrier: Same cruel society is always sacrificing my poor salary too…
Mama: Still, I believe her fate changed when she met the monster.
Carrier: My fate changed when I met my wife―in many meanings of the word! Heyo!
Mama: Goodness, but you are an irritating creature.
Carrier: Ow! Hey! don’t pinch me like THAAAT! OWWW!
Mama: The girl never lost her kindness, even in the face of needless malice. But though that kindness was not enough to bring her salvation, it saved
him
, and he brought salvation to her heart. In this feedback loop of benevolence, she became herself anew.
Carrier: GYAAAAAAH! HRAAAAAGH! …HAH!
Mama: Oh my. You managed to escape my grasp.
Carrier: Gimme a goddamn break already, lady!
Mama: Language! That poor girl would be sad to hear such things from you, Carrier. After all, she adores you.
Story 6
REPORT CARD
[
]
- GRADES
Composition: A
Grammar: A
Mathematics: A
History: A
Geography: A
Science: A
Art: C
Music: A
Physical Education: A
Ethics: A
Labor: A
Nature Appreciation: A
- ATTENDANCE
Days Present: 80
Absences: 0
Late Arrivals: 0
Times Left Early: 0
- TEACHER COMMENTS
Your daughter’s grades and attitude are excellent.
She is considered an exemplary student among the staff, and interacts with genuine care for all her classmates. Your daughter’s stellar personality is a testament to her wonderful home environment and the love you show her.
As she is a student of particular quality, we strongly recommend she pursue higher-level education. We believe she will prove a valuable asset for society in the future.
Story 7
A Gift from Mommy and Daddy
[
]
One cold and snowy morning, I looked out the window and watched as my daughter had a snowball fight with some of the neighborhood kids. They were all bigger than her—and probably four or five years older—but she kept making snowballs and throwing them as best as she could. That’s when I realized she was the only one without gloves, and that her poor hands were bright red. Yet she still wore a beaming innocent smile on her face, which made my heart hurt.
“Fio’s so cheerful, even on a frigid day like this.”
My husband, having just woke, came over to stand beside me, watching our daughter amidst the large crowd of children. Once he left for work, I looked for one of my old sweaters. He’d given it to me years ago and I’d always taken good care of it, so I figured it would still be in decent shape. After pulling it out of the closet, I unraveled it and began to knit a pair of gloves from the yarn, figuring the soft hues would look better on her than me, anyway. But when my husband came home that night, we looked at each other and burst out laughing, because he’d gone to town and used what little money we had to buy her a pair of mittens.
That night, I watched as our little girl, worn out from playing all day, snored softly in her sleep.
May these blissful days continue into eternity
, I prayed as I gently placed a small blanket over her.