The Philosopher’s apology.
Chapter 22: The Philosopher's apology.
The room stank of blood. Thick, metallic, almost intoxicating.
The real Aqua exhaled, dragging his fingers through the red slick on the fake's skin. The warmth. The texture. Perfect.
Across from him, the fake was slumped forward, barely conscious, his breath coming in wet, gurgling gasps. His body? Ruined. The potion had kept him alive, but it hadn't spared him from the butchery.
Flayed skin hung in strips. Muscle, exposed and raw, twitched involuntarily. His fingers had been snapped backwards, jagged shards of bone peeking through torn flesh.
And still. Still.
He wouldn't die.
The real Aqua smiled, dipping his fingers into a bowl of salt and crushed glass.
"Do you know why I enjoy this?" he murmured, conversational. He pressed the mixture into the raw, pulsing wounds.
The fake's body arched violently. A sound tore from his throat–not a scream, but something worse.
Aqua sighed in pleasure. "Because it's fair."
He leaned closer, eyes glinting, cruel and bright.
"You raped, you stole, you killed, you destroyed. Without consequence. Without punishment. And now..."
His fingers tightened around a strip of exposed muscle, twisting.
"Now, the world takes back what it is owed."
The fake tried to scream, but his vocal cords had been shredded long ago. What came out was a wet, broken sound.
The real Aqua chuckled. "Pathetic. Really, I expected more. You strutted around like a god, but look at you now."
"Less than a man. Less than an animal. Just... parts."
He lifted a scalpel, its blade gleaming.
"Let's make that literal, shall we?"
And then he started cutting.
Slow. Precise. Expert.
Strips of flesh peeled away, each one placed carefully onto a silver tray. A souvenir of failure.
"You know," Aqua mused, "Trip told me about this potion. How she tested it. How the red–haired boy screamed and screamed, but never died."
"Though she also added that and I quote "That brat adopted way to quickly and wouldn't scream that much." When I heard that , I was quite shock. Really!"
His knife sank deeper, carving through cartilage, tendon, nerve endings.
"And now, thanks to her hard work..." He smiled. "You get to be immortal too."
The fake convulsed, his remaining eye rolling back. But he couldn't faint. The potion wouldn't let him.
Aqua chuckled. "Ah, right. No escape. No peace. Just endless, beautiful pain."
He reached for the pliers.
"Now, let's see how long it takes before you beg me to take the other eye."
He dragged the tool forward—
And began again.
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The Amanika family sat gathered in the parlor, voices low, tension ever–present. The past few months had been filled with caution, with silence. They did not speak of him.
That monster.
Thar being who dragged their name through filth, who turned their grief into whispers and disgrace.
But then–
Ding-dong.
A single chime.
They turned. No one was expected.
Koji rose first, eyes narrowing. Iruma followed, his usual smile absent. Miko and Rukia exchanged glances before trailing behind. Ichika and Tatsuya remained seated, watching.
When they reached the entrance–
Nothing.
Just the cold night air.
But at their feet–
A box.
Small. Wrapped in baby-blue silk, tied with a golden ribbon.
Koji frowned. Miko hesitated. Iruma smiled, but there was no amusement in it.
Slowly, Koji knelt, undid the bow, and lifted the lid–
The stench hit them first.
Miko staggered back, hand covering her mouth.
Rukia's breath hitched.
And then-
The contents.
Human skin.
Flayed perfectly, stretched and folded with sickening care. Not dried. Not old. Fresh.
A single letter rested on top.
Koji's hands trembled as he picked it up. The words were written in blood. Fresh.
---
To My Dearest Amanikas,
How rude of me to drop in unannounced! I do hope this little present finds you well.
Ah, but you must be shocked–what could I possibly be sending you in such lovely wrapping? A memento. A souvenir. A parting gift.
The fraud who shamed you? Who tarnished your name with his filth?
Well, let's just say he's been–hmm, how do I phrase this gently? Deconstructed.
I did consider sending him whole, but where's the fun in that? Instead, I've shared the joy. A little piece for every family he wronged.
Your piece? Well, this one's extra special.
You see, it's his face.
---
Koji's grip on the letter tightened.
Miko turned away, gagging.
Rukia's fingers curled into her sleeves, nails biting into flesh.
Iruma let out a low breath, shaking his head. Ichika and Tatsuya remained silent.
But the letter wasn't finished.
---
Now, now, don't be shy. Take a good look. Stroke it if you wish! After all, he spent so long pretending to be me–surely you deserve to see what's beneath that stolen mask?
Oh, and don't worry! I made sure he felt every single second of it. You wouldn't believe the sounds he made when I started peeling–like a pig at slaughter! Truly, music.
He begged, of course. They always do.
Begged for mercy, for forgiveness, for an ending.
I was kind enough to grant him one. Eventually.
But not before a little fun.
Salt and pepper, dear Amanikas. Did you know that the human body can feel a thousand times more pain once the skin is removed? I seasoned him like a fine meal and let him stew in his own misery.
Trip really outdid herself with that potion–the one that keeps them alive until I say otherwise. She tested it on a boy with red hair, you know? Though I wish he–that boy with red hair screamed for a bit more amount of time. Gotta say , that kid got some mad endurance!
Would you like the full details? Perhaps a transcript of his sobs? Sadly, I don't take commissions. But rest assured-his final moments were... poetic.
Do you forgive me yet? No?
Well. At least you know I am real.
---
Koji closed his eyes.
The others did not speak.
But the weight of it hung heavy in the room.
And still, the letter continued.
---
Now, let's be honest here. We're all thinking the same thing.
Was this justice?
Was this revenge?
Or was it simply art?
---
Koji dropped the letter.
The air felt thinner.
A joke? A nightmare?
Or something much, much worse?
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.
.
The silence stretched.
The letter lay discarded on the table, its words burned into their minds.
The box remained open. The skin–his skin–sat folded with unnatural precision, the edges too clean, too perfect.
No one spoke.
Not at first.
Then–
"We should use it."
The words came from Miko. Soft. Measured.
Koji turned to his daughter, eyes narrowing. "Miko–"
She met his gaze, unflinching. "We should use it."
Rukia's fingers curled on the armrest. "Use it? How?"
Miko exhaled, pressing a hand to her forehead. "A medium. A link."
Iruma tilted his head, watching her. "A link... to what?"
She hesitated, but only for a moment. "To a way to fight."
Tatsuya, who had been silent, finally spoke. His voice was rough, old, and heavy. "Fight... against whom?"
Miko's hands clenched. "The inhumans. The monsters. The things we aren't equipped to deal with."
A pause.
And then, Tatsuya asked the question that lingered in his mind for a while.
"Is there a weapon that can cut through the skin of a Source User?"
Silence.
Miko's lips pressed into a thin line. "...No."
Iruma let out a slow exhale. He leaned back, running a hand through his hair. "Then that means–"
Rukia's voice was quiet. "–it was done with brute strength."
Another silence. This one heavier.
Koji closed his eyes. A man's skin, ripped from his body, by nothing but sheer force.
Something unnatural. Something monstrous.
Something real.
Ichika, the eldest in the room, let out a slow breath. She had not spoken since they opened the box. But now, she lifted her gaze, sharp and clear.
"It is done." Her voice was steady. "The imposter is gone. We are free of him."
Rukia's eyes flickered. "But not of the one who sent this."
Another pause.
Then–Iruma laughed.
Low, quiet. Uneasy.
"At least he's polite."
The others turned to him, startled.
He smirked, lifting the letter between his fingers. "He apologized, didn't he? Said he was 'sorry' and shit."
Koji scoffed. "A monster's apology is worth nothing."
Iruma shrugged. "Maybe." He twirled the letter. "But I'd rather have a sadistic philosopher who writes cute notes than a fraud who will ruin people's lives."
No one disagreed.
They didn't like it.
But they didn't disagree.
Tatsuya folded his arms. "We should call them."
Koji nodded. "Emiya and Nino."
Rukia sighed. "They won't like this."
Iruma smirked. "Doesn't matter."
"They need to know."