ISSEI OGAWA, SHSL CLASSICAL PIANIST, HAS BEEN FOUND GUILTY
Suddenly, Issei was gone, chains wrapped around his wrist. He was standing in the courtroom one second, and then he wasn’t.
He didn’t beg for forgiveness, not one last attempt at salvation. He knew what he had done. He would protest.
"J-just… Tell Kyo that I’m sorry… I’m… I’m so sorry…"
Even as he was dragged away, silent as ever, you could hear his hauntingly quiet apology echo hollowly around the room.
But as he was pulled further and further from the court, you could hear pained wails and harsh screams.
Everything was dark, that you could see, but then the lights came on.
It was a stage. Surrounding it were hundreds, if not thousands, of mannequins, each with a stupidly gleeful face on, merry colours, like nothing was wrong. Each ‘person’ around the stage was applauding, their excitement clear and overwhelming.
And in the middle of the stage, set up right in the middle of the stage, a piano in front of him, was Issei Ogawa.
His wrists visibly had braces on them, and when you looked close enough, you could see a purpley swell of broken bones and agitated flesh. It was obvious that the chains, wrapped so violently and tight, had crushed his wrists when they had dragged him away. Each hand also had a clear glove over it, and when Issei tried to pull away from it, he just hissed in pain, and his eyes watered. They wouldn’t come off. Each glove connect beneath him, running down, via wire, to the floor.
And then the announcer came on.
“LADIES AND GENTLEMAN! PLEASE WELCOME THIS NIGHT’S FEATURED GUEST! THE TALENTED ISSEI OGAWA!”
And his hands started moving. The wires underneath him bobbed up and down, the gloves moving its fingers on their own accord, his fingers started to play.
Issei cried out in pain. Right now he was playing a simply tune, a quick arpeggio warm up. But it hurt like hell. His wrists were shattered by now, the struggling to escape while being dragged away making it all the worse. Both purple wrists protested under the movement. The tears were running down his cheeks. In a desperate attempt not to cry out in pain, he bit down, and through, his lip.
It was over quickly, the little medley only meant to be a warm up. Not that Issei needed it, his wrists so badly abused and broken that a warm up only made it worse. And he sighed in relief.
Blood ran down his chin, from how hard his bit his lip, and his wrists looked ghastly, the swelling raging out of control. The tears had stopped a while ago, not enough left to fall.
Then it started again. By now, others had gathered around him, a group of violins, a group of flutes, among others. Each one had warmed up with him, as he played, and when they stopped, each one pulled out a folder, containing sheet music. They picked out the first piece, and spread it out.
A total of seven pages long, cords and outlines and small strings of notes. And it stated once more.
An orchestral arrangement of the Solfeggio in C minor. Long and grueling. Lots of exertion.
He doubled over when it started, his head colliding with the piano. It resounded loudly with a harsh thunk and a cry of pain. But the cry continued, a long whisper of pain, Issei’s vocal cords much too worn out to sob. His chest shook with pain, and his breaths became sparser and sparser.
Everyone around Issei was playing merrily, as though nothing was was happening. The flutes played shrilly, loud enough to deafen. But Issei was still was sobbing on the piano, having bitten into the the wood, hard, to stop himself from biting through his tongue.
It didn’t work well, he was bleeding from his mouth still, from earlier wounds, and blood ran lightly over the polished wood of the piano.
And soon enough, that piece ended as well. But each player around him reached down to their folders, and pulled out a second piece.
Shutting his eyes tight, Issei sobbed and he was forced to run a quick scale, to warm up. And then it began all over again.
It wasn’t far into the song before a loud crack resounded from Issei’s wrists. A bone was now jutting out of his right wrist, the blood pouring profusely from the opening. His arm and his hand clearly weren’t connected well, the movements between the two not quite connected. His head slammed back down on the piano again, the wood audibly cracking and buckling underneath the force of his cranium. Blood was now leaking out from under his mouth as well, having bitten through his lip from the pain.
Only now were the people in the audience noticing him, and how much pain he was in. But…
“Wh-what? What is that man d-doing?”
“My god! Th-that man has gone insane!”
“There’s something wr-wrong with him, what is he doing? Oh god, what is going on?!”
“Hol-… Holy shit! Someone stop him! He’s going insane, someone restrain him!”
As the audience quickly fled, the pandemonium rising up around him making matters worse. The performers around him dropped their instruments and ran as well, their stands tipped over and chairs on their sides. But Issei’s hands kept running on, the music, by now, broken, and he tried to pull away from the piano, the pain too much, and the panic around him scaring him more than before.
“Sir, we’ll have to ask you to leave for inappropriate conduct.”
Barely able to lift his head, he saw the flash of a security badge, the holster at their side, and they were standing over him.
“Sir, we’ll have to ask you to leave for inappropriate conduct.”
Trying to gasp out a response, Issei tried to lift his head from the piano again, but with his wrists constantly moving, the pulling and tugging of his tendons, he just slammed his head back onto the piano in pain. Letting out a gasping sob, he shivered. His arms were losing feeling in them, and a cold numbness, a slimy, disgusting feeling, crept down from his arms, his head spinning.
“Sir, we’ll have to ask you to leave for inappropriate conduct.”
Pushing back the bench he was sitting on, he tried to force himself up, away from the piano, just stop the pain, stop it, stop it!
But then they grabbed him by the arm, and tugged, trying to lead him off the stage. And they tugged hard, too. His wrist made audible snapping and grinding sounds, loud and painful. Screaming, Issei collapsed to his knees, and pulled away from security guards. They had no faced, the blank white of the mannequins figure emotionless.
But still, almost as if their brow was furrowing, they grabbed onto his arm again, and tried to pull him off stage.
“Sir, we’ll have to ask you to leave for inappropriate conduct.”
But that was the straw that broke the camel’s back. A huge crack resounded throughout the room, a disgusting sound worse than nails on a chalkboard.
And the gloves disconnect from the wires. They came loose, and now he was free. Issei was free to run away, but he didn’t.
When they pulled, there was a ghastly, fleshy ripping sound, and the skin and muscle around his started to tear from from itself. Bloody fragments of bone fell onto the floor, and the muscle peaked out from the profusely bleeding wound.
Now rolling senselessly on the ground, the pain he was experiencing not something he could express in sounds, Issei was deathly silent. His head was swimming, and he couldn’t feel anything but his wrist, a hot searing sensation that was as though he was slowly setting his hand on fire, but an ice cold and slimy sensation, crawling when was no longer there.
The guard grabbed him again.
“Sir, we’ll have to ask you to leave for inappropriate conduct.”
But he kicked them away, the pain in his wrist too much to manage. He thrashed and he screamed, his vocal chords giving way, until it was just a raspy breath being pulled from his throat, barely even audible. But then the guard descended, the act of violence, something Issei, at this point, couldn’t even control, sending them over the edge.
The tugging turned to scratched, as Issei writhed on the ground. The scratching turned to hitting. The hitting turned to bludgeoning, when the guards couldn’t hold Issei down. Soon they were all over him, Issei’s body not even visible any more.
But then they parted. Issei was all over the stage, a hand here, his jacket torn over there, an entire leg of his pants completely gone. Blood ran profusely over what remained of him, even flowing off the stage. There were holes in his body, as well as a few more bullet holes lining the stage.
He was completely obliterated. His body was torn to shreds, barely recognizable.
An employee walked by the body, with a mop and a bucket. He put the bucket down, and slopped the mop into it. He started to clean, the water slowly but surely cleaning what was left of Issei away.
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