Ghost AU?
The Dead Who Walk Among Us
AU where some of the hypmic cast are ghosts but there's still hypnosis mic and drbs.
Going to be real here, I wrote this months ago and forgot about it. I just rediscovered it and it was long enough that I just decided to post it here. If I ever remember where I was going with this, I might pick it up again.
This is chapter 1 of what was supposed to be 6, so it's Jakurai-centric.
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When Jakurai was a child - well, not that he still wasn’t a child, but you get the point - there was hope. Hope that the war would end, hope that death wouldn’t come to their doorsteps.
Mother and father though, Jakurai knew even at the tender age of 6, did not hope. They drank a stinky water that made them act mean and loud and would eat a smokey thing that smelled weird and permeated everything for days. The things they said made Jakurai sad, so very sad.
W̵̜͇͗͐ḩ̶̂̇͌y̵͙͛͋ͅ ̴̪̋ď̶̬̬̣̓í̷̻̙͜ḍ̵͚̋ ̵̦̽͛͘y̷͙̓o̴̞̖̖͑̾̀ư̷͖̽ ̶̎̈́̉ͅh̶̗̫̅̀̏a̸̗͒̈́t̵̜̪̗̏̚̕é̶͍͔̅ ̵͌͜m̵̗̅͂̆è̶̠͕̙̃?̶̞̀̍ ̷͙͙͝Ǐ̵̲ ̸͓̝͌͌d̸̢̖͓̐́ĭ̷̟͖͠ḋ̴͉̱n̸̡̖͒’̶̧̳̼̕ẗ̷̰̺̓ͅ ̸̞͍̉͠a̸̘̙̰̐š̴̳̪̓̑͜k̶̪̏͝ ̵̤̪̈́͜t̴̛̤o̶̩͠ ̷̝̏̈́ͅḇ̵̝̓̾̄ͅẹ̵͓̅̾͘͜ ̶̠̩̋̍b̵̝́o̶̖̓r̴̫̆̉̋n̴̲͛,̴̺̱̗̔ ̷̞͎̇̓Í̸͍̿͠ ̸̡̹̊͘̚d̶̤͓̓̊̊i̶̺̖̤̊̓͊d̵̺̀ń̶͕’̴̨̳̆͆̎t̵̺͎̹̓̓͠ ̴̛̝͑ả̷̲s̴̤̿̂k̷̢̬̎̌ ̷̹̩͂̄ͅf̵̝͚̜͆͠o̷̧̊r̴̛̹̎̿ ̴̨̤͎̊̉̓t̵̜͗͜h̴̡͆͗̋ỉ̸̡̘̩ś̴͍ ̷̛̤̠̭͂̆p̷̨̫͗̂ą̸̻͊i̴͚͠ṇ̸̚.̸͚͊͘
So, for Jakurai at least, it was never a surprise when they found a way to get rid of him. The laboratory they sold him to was, in contrast, cold and unnerving. Whereas back with mother and father, people prayed to keep death away, shielding the people of their community away from the pain and horrors of war.
Here though. Here, the scientists reveled in it. The many children who went into the labs rarely ever came out. And if they did, they were never the same again.
And thus, Jakurai kept his head down and kept quiet. It wasn’t enough, it usually wasn’t. By the time Jakurai was decided to become the next test subject, the friends he’d made when he’d first arrived had already been killed off - their blood staining the walls of this cold prison - and the ones he had now would soon follow.
Maybe it took days. Maybe it took hours. Jakurai hadn’t known. All it took was a tiny injection, and then everything felt like it was on fire.
T̸̛̙͝h̴̞̜͂͝ͅè̴̮̈́ỵ̶̢̨̄ ̸͍͇̽͘͜c̶̢̥̻̃̐ǘ̴̯̀̔ẗ̵̢̢̬́ ̴̱̒̕o̷̤̒̈́̑f̸̟̑f̵̰̌̋̌ ̸̦̞̖́m̴̮̺͒͘y̸͉͇̰̓̔ ̷̹̯͙͗h̴͈͊͒̅a̶̹̳̔̃̐ͅn̵͖͆d̸̤͑s̶̝̥͖͝.̷̹̓̚̚ ̷̜̺̜̆T̶̖͖͂̑̕h̴̛̪̋͝ȅ̴͔̈n̴̺̏̐ ̷̨̣͚͌ṱ̴̠̆̚h̸̞̖́ė̷̞͉̓̓ỹ̸̘͉ ̷̢̭̫̀̈́̋ç̸͍̲̂̌̂u̴̟̻̣͋̈́t̶̙̼͐͊ ̵͇͋o̴̡̢̳̓́͠f̸̥̙́̌͝f̴̦̒̐ ̶̗͍͒̔̆m̴̖͗ỹ̷̧͔̚͝ ̴͖̥̊͆̎͜f̵̰̃͝e̵͓̻͖̽̂͂ę̵͎̰̿t̷̻͓̖͛.̸̩̍ ̵̝͎͋W̶̼̅h̴̠͔̦̅͐̐y̵̦̮̓͐͜͝ ̴̧͔̈́̆d̸͉̀ͅi̵̻̓̌d̸͓̥̰̀́͌ ̷͖́̚ť̴̥̜h̷̢̻́̂́e̴̬̤͊̍͊͜y̷̢̪͠ ̴͈̭͐̀͑d̴̞̳͉̎o̷̱͆̿̾ͅ ̵̙͐t̸̘̗̣̄h̸̖̊͛i̴̢̝̗̚ś̵̻͜?̶̺̯̌̾ ̶̩͍̿W̵̹̹̰̏̍h̴̫͕̟̽͘y̸̠̝͑̊͑ ̵̘̠̏d̸̫͐̌ȋ̶̡̙͎͐d̶̳͖̩̎ ̶̺̞͐̿ͅṱ̶͍̽h̵̭̜͕̚͠e̴͓̐͒̈y̵̠̓̚͝ ̸̡̇h̸̜̭͚̅͂͑û̴̢͙̦͋ṟ̵̼̞̅ṯ̸͕̯̀̕̕ ̶̝͓̖͐̊u̸̮͈̅̐̌͜s̶̥̃̽̾?̵̡͙͈͆̕ ̵͉̜͛E̶̘͊́͝v̵͚̼̔ḛ̴̱͓̎r̵͙̱̎̿ỳ̷͕̽̊t̵͙̗̐͂h̵͔̫̬͛̂̈i̷̙̟̔̒n̷̘͈̙̋g̴̯̖̥͝ ̶̛̦̼̱̉͗h̶̫̻͐ũ̷̘͚͚̊r̴͚͙̯̈́͐̓t̷̞̽̇ ̵̡̡̂s̸̖̿̏ö̶̞͗̕ ̴̘̬̫̃͗̚b̴̬̉̿a̴̛̦̻̘d̴̮͚̑ļ̶̏ỷ̷͉̹ ̷̤̊̾͌a̵̻͆͛̿ṋ̸̖͓̀̈ḓ̷̭̂ ̸̗͈̺̏͝w̴͔̿͒h̶͖̝̘̉͗͝e̴̡̪͆͝n̵̝͕̜̾ ̸͓̬͒̏t̵͓̍̏h̸̯̻͒̃̈́e̵̲̭͗́ȳ̵̺͓͐ ̵̟̊̑f̷̧͖͈̎̾͝ȋ̸̫̟̚ṋ̴́a̶̬̙͐l̴̲͇̀̕l̷̛̦̟͐y̶̳͠ ̴̝̓c̷͍͘͝ù̷̬̌t̷͙͙̜̅̔ ̸͈̃͠o̷̟̠̐f̵̼͛̅f̸͍̦̦̀̋͝ ̵̰̈́̀̀m̶̟̝̒̓͝y̷̺̹̝͑̊ ̶̻̫͂̕ḩ̶̰̮̈͗͘ḛ̸̣̻͌̓̊á̷̳͇̲̓d̴̝̮̓͊̒,̵̛̬̟͐͊ͅ ̸͚̠̭̍̓i̴̜͖̓̓̈́t̶̫͋́ ̴̨͕̞̓̃w̷̠̐̓͐a̷̯͐͌ş̸̜̝͑̌ ̸̝̭̇͘͜ạ̷̰͝ ̵̡̤̉ͅr̸̨̦̝̒͊ẽ̸̟͈̀l̵͕̝͑̆̈ȉ̷̻̹̅é̶͍͎̕f̸̭͕̃̎͐.̸̪̻̤̾̈́̎ ̸̧̰͈̈́ ̴̰̱̣̎̅D̶̞͚̑̀ē̴͓͖͍͠ȧ̵̦̥̦t̷̻̊̒̀ͅȟ̶̟̼ ̶͎͎̈́̓͌w̸̜̺̏a̸͖̱͂s̶̹͒͑́ ̵͚̓ͅm̸̰͝y̶͇̠̼̕ ̵͉̆͊ŗ̶͈͗̆̋e̷̝͎͒̎͑l̴͉̰̑͛̇i̷̝͜͠e̵̼̩̗̐͗f̵̥͎̲̅̎.̶̨̔̍
When the scientists were finally done, he finally D I E S
. . .
There is this curious phenomenon that has been observed for centuries. It occurs when tragedy occurs in multitudes, and some theorize that it is a reminder to humanity of its failings. Others hypothesize that it’s simply the strength of human will that allows for this phenomenon to occur. Most though, most believe it is a reminder from the gods to be humble. To be kind. To show empathy and sympathy.
A reminder from the gods that the sins of humanity can and will haunt you.
.
.
The dead walk among us, especially the ones who never got their promised happy ever afters. Be careful who you anger, because you never know if they’ll come back as a ghost, and who knows, maybe they’ll be coming to take their revenge too.
.
.
.
“Neh, neh,” a small child crowed, “Hifumi-kun, Doppo-kun, can you play with us?”
Hifumi cheerfully smiled, Doppo carefully mirroring his expression to the best of his exhausted abilities.
Today was one of Doppo’s rare days off, and yet here they were in the middle of a park surrounded by children. He’d very much rather be back in their shared apartment sleeping, but… seeing the smiling faces of all these kids, Doppo thought, just for today, it would be okay. As the children formed a circle to toss around a shiny red ball, they began to sing their haunting tune.
“̶K̸a̴g̸o̴m̴e̸ ̸k̷a̵g̶o̴m̶e̸,̸ ̷t̵h̵e̷ ̴b̸i̵r̵d̷ ̸i̵s̸ ̵i̶n̵ ̵t̵h̶e̴ ̴c̷a̴g̷e̴;̵ ̶W̶h̴e̸n̶,̵ ̶o̴h̷ ̴w̶h̶e̵n̸ ̸w̸i̷l̴l̵ ̶i̴t̸ ̷c̶o̴m̷e̴ ̵o̶u̵t̷;̸ I̴n̴ ̵t̴h̶e̴ ̸n̸i̵g̸h̴t̶ ̸o̵f̷ ̷d̸a̶w̶n̷;̶ ̸T̵h̶e̶ ̵c̵r̵a̴n̵e̶ ̶a̶n̴d̶ ̴t̴u̶r̶t̶l̴e̷ ̴s̵l̵i̶p̴p̴e̸d̶;̴ W̵h̷o̵ ̸i̶s̴ ̵b̷e̷h̵i̵n̵d̶ ̷y̷o̴u̶ ̵n̴o̷w̵?̸”̶
It’s funny, Doppo thinks to himself even as he absentmindedly catches and tosses the ball around, how a children’s song can take a whole new - and rather terrifying - meaning.
To these children - these children who were killed for nothing but the foolish greed of men searching for immortality and using war as a cover-up - it was their game and song that kept them sane and relatively ignorant to the true horrors of their lives.
These tiny ghosts who had heavy scarring around their wrists, ankles, and throats. These tiny ghosts who wore dirty and torn garbs around their gaunt bodies.
“Ah! Doppo-kun!” Jinguji Jakuri calls out, “Hifumi-kun!”
There is no pitter-patter of tiny feet running towards them, ghosts cannot truly interact with the world of the living after all. But to Doppo, it’s all the same. He kneels down to pseudo-hug the child ghost, ignoring every fiber of his being that tells him to destroy whoever hurt this small child. To take his mic and destroy the cruel men who cut off this tiny child’s limbs and then killed him by cutting off his head.
But Doppo cannot. He’s over a century too late, for all these children have been dead for years and years and years. This is the curse of the dead who walk among the living, rarely ever able to move on from their regrets and anger.
They’ve talked about it before, him and Hifumi. About how much they wanted to keep this little child safe, how much they owe Jakurai for stepping in and protecting Hifumi from his crazy stalker even though the little ghost could’ve just ignored them like any other spirit. About how incredibly kind and incredibly adorable and most importantly, how incredibly sad Jakurai was.
It’s foolish talk though, Doppo knows, after all, they weren’t the first living beings Jakurai had become friends with over the years - they just happen to be his current ones.
(He quietly ignores the part of his brain that asks about the TDD. The TDD is over - Jakurai has said so himself, a quiet and mellow declaration in contrast to his usual cheery spirit. He quietly ignores who the former members of the TDD come and go from Shinjuku, always the ones to initiate contact that Jakurai happily receives. The ghostly members of the other divisions are a whole other can of fish that neither Doppo nor Hifumi are willing to open just yet, but well, ghosts were a different matter.
No, Doppo was not jealous. He was an adult and could handle the fact that Jakurai had other living friends maturely.
… Okay, so maybe he was a little jealous of the way Jakurai would brighten up every time he saw Yamada, Aohitsugi, and Amemura, but so was Hifumi.)
They were Matenrou, they were the Shinjuku Division in this wild era of microphones and rap battles, and they would watch after each other, even if their precious leader didn’t quite understand that just yet.
But he would. Hifumi and Doppo would make sure Jakurai knew that he could count on them.
Ḩ̶̿e̴̪͆y̶͎͠,̶͇̐ ̵̰͛ẁ̸̤ȃ̶̪n̵̘͐n̶͓̈ā̶̞ ̴̼̔ḳ̷̿n̸̬͗o̴͓͐w̸͉̃ ̶͖̏a̵͍͗ ̵͙̚s̸̼̄ë̷̩́c̸̟̈́r̴̲̀e̷͇̐t̸͇̒?̷̡̍ ̸͔̄T̸̘͌h̵̝́e̵̢̽ ̷̬͑s̴͓͑c̶̫͂í̷͓ḛ̸̂ṋ̸́ţ̵̋i̴̻̍s̶̤͌t̸͖̂ ̵̳̃ų̵̋s̷̱̒e̶͖̓ď̵̤ ̶͚̔t̷͚͒o̷̠̍ ̷̲̊s̷̯͝a̷͈͘y̵̺̓ ̴̤͛t̸̗́ḩ̵͒ȧ̵̳t̵͝ͅ ̷̘̏ṱ̵̒h̷͙̐e̸͇͝ỵ̵̋ ̴̥̃ẅ̸͓́è̴̖r̶͍̒è̵̱ ̴̡̑s̷̹͗ẹ̵̈ř̴̳v̴͙͛î̵ͅn̵̹͊g̸͙͘ ̵̱̌h̸̦̒u̶̅͜m̶̫̿ă̶̬n̶̤̏i̷͎͆t̷͙̚y̷̟͛,̸̘̔ ̶̛̤t̷̨̅h̶̰̍a̶̟͑t̴̂ͅ ̷̗̂t̶͙͝ḧ̸̼́i̸̪̅s̷̙͑ ̷̗̐w̷͔͒a̸̧̾s̶̳͂ ̵̲͝m̶̬̂y̴̘̏ ̶̧̐p̷̢̔ǘ̶̯ř̷̼p̷̧͐ȏ̵̬s̴̗̐e̵̲͠.̴̽ͅ
̷̤͗Ḅ̴̊ű̵̺t̷̞̆ ̵̡̈w̵̨͘h̷͈͝ā̵͜ṭ̵͐ ̵̢̈́d̶̩̈́o̴̞͐ĕ̴̥s̷͕͆ ̸̳̔i̷̯̕t̴͎̀ ̶̺̎m̵̢̍è̸͉ǎ̶̺n̶̞̓ ̴͍͘t̵͙̍o̶̦͠ ̶̛̱s̷̰̈é̷̞r̷͔̚v̴̱̔e̵̗̊ ̴͍̎h̵̙̀ǘ̶̯m̴͚͂a̸͕͑ņ̸̿i̷̞͐ţ̷̒ẙ̸͚?̷̍͜ ̷͎͆W̴͉̽h̸͈͑y̷̍͜ ̴̯̐d̶̻̀ĩ̵̹d̶̡̒ ̵͙̾Į̶̈́ ̵̲͐h̶͓͑a̶͇̅v̸̭̓e̷͚̋ ̴̨̚t̷̘̀o̸̭̓ ̸̛̮s̵̥̚ą̶̌c̴̜͂r̶̾ͅỉ̷͚f̴̫͠i̸̠͌ć̸̟ĕ̶̦ ̴̨̂m̵̼̏ỳ̸͎ ̶͒͜ḷ̴̈́i̵̟͒f̶̳̚ḛ̸͗ ̶̫͐f̶̡́o̸̼͝r̵̛̬ ̴͍̈ţ̸̈́h̵̠͝ǐ̶̼s̶̖̾ ̷͙̌s̵̙̓o̵̝͝-̶̠͑ĉ̸͙a̵͚̔l̶̙̏l̵̥̽e̸̢̎d̴̤͛ ̶͎̾h̶̩͋ũ̶͓m̴͖͠a̷̤̚n̷̻̒ì̶̝t̶͎̀ỳ̶͔?̶̬̅
̵̥̀T̸͈͆h̸̥͋i̸̞̇s̸̙̓ ̷̳͗p̵͖̕a̸̗͛i̸͍͌n̵̡̆ ̴̮͊a̴̟̋n̵̮̕d̶͔̐ ̵̫̿s̶͙̓ù̴͔f̵̤̒f̵̞͗e̴̻͝ṙ̶͖į̷̌n̷̮͋g̸̠̉,̵̼̈ ̶̮̓a̵͇͠l̵͇͆ḽ̷͑ ̶͚̚t̶̑ͅẖ̴̍ȩ̸͠s̶̜̚e̵͚͛ ̸̠͌s̵̬͑e̸̫͠n̴̖̎s̶̪͋e̸̲̓l̸̬̊e̷̟͒s̷̯̾ş̸̕ ̴̣̈́d̵̟͂e̷͈͝ȧ̷͈t̴̡̉h̵̥̄s̸͘ͅ.̶̈́͜.̷͇̈.̵̗̈ ̴͇̈M̶̱͗r̴̰̾.̵͖̚ ̸̺͝Ş̵͊c̷̮̔i̸̫̒e̸̺̚ň̸͈t̷̳̆i̸̪̅s̸̢̔t̴̺́s̷̺̕,̴̯͝ ̶̛̪w̵̞̾ȟ̵̨ȍ̶̥ ̵͉̉i̴̻͗s̴̰̿ ̴̫̚ḯ̵̬t̶͓̚ ̴̧̃t̷͔̆h̶̜̒a̶̙͆t̴͕̃ ̴̧͒y̸͔̓ö̴̜́u̵̜̐ ̴̜͒t̶̥̑r̶̭̄ụ̶͌l̸̝̈y̶̧͊ ̶̟͐s̸̗̕é̸̬r̵̨̓v̴͘ͅe̶̠͘d̸̙͒ ̶̱́i̶̻̐n̶̙̚ ̶͍̓t̴͎̊h̵͉̑ḙ̶̆ ̴͔̈́v̴̈́͜ê̵̪r̸͎̒y̸̯̎ ̸̖͗ë̸͇ň̵͜d̷̟̚?̵̘̂ ̸̜͐H̷͕̚u̵̢͝m̷͇͂à̶̳n̵̝̑i̴͍̒t̴̹̽ỵ̷̉,̷̦͊ ̸̡̌o̶̪̓r̸̬͋ ̸̻́r̴̙̍à̶̱t̸͕͌h̵̻̉è̶̪r̴̡̐ ̸͎́y̵̩͐o̴͕͂u̴͙̓r̵̬̈́ ̸̪͐o̵̤̊ẃ̴͉n̷͍̐ ̴͔̂s̸̙̐e̵͔̍l̵̝͂f̵̞͒i̵̼͑s̶̟̈́h̸̪̍ ̴̤͐d̶̞̓e̵̯̚s̸͓̅ì̷͔r̷̹̆e̷̯̚s̷͉͝?̷̞̐
If Jakurai had to describe the TDD in a single word, it would probably be warm. Warm like the way Hitoya-kun made him feel when he said Jakurai did a good job.
















