Satoshi Manabu lived at Christina, Feropia, ever since he was seven or eight, with his late grandmother. But before here, he had lived somewhere very far along with his mother. Though she's been missing ever since he was very young, he couldn't remember exactly when. He thought it was because of his amnesia.
On an early, chilling winter morning on late November, Manabu was under his soft, thick woolen blanket, struggling to open his eyes despite the alarm ringing twice. The warmth of his bed enticed him to stay cocooned. With a soft groan, he stretched his legs and arms, thinking he'd take another five-minute nap. He wasn't late, but he was quite work-shy and needed exercise. Even if he managed to get up earlier, he was as slow as a sloth. He turned aggressively to the opposite side of his body and hit his shin on the sharp corner of the nightstand beside the bed. It made him scream loudly, now fully awake from the pain.
Only a few days remained before the winter holiday. He sat on the bed lazily; while rubbing his eyes, he forced himself to stand. The day was November 27, 1899. He stretched again and glanced at his wristwatch: 8:00 in the morning—he still had one hour before college began. He slid the curtains open, but the air brushing inside was intensely cold. He set his palms under his armpits and headed to the bathroom. Turning on the tap, the cold water bit at his skin, making him shiver slightly. Manabu had been in great need of money; he hadn't even been able to afford warm clothing for the winter. He barely earned enough to pay the rent or college fees. He also owed people money, even to Taiju—his closest friend. Though Taiju never forced him to return the loan, he understood Manabu's struggle. Manabu particularly sold magazines and worked in a sweet shop as a part-timer. It was tiresome. Manabu was seventeen and would likely turn eighteen by the end of the year.
When he finished brushing, he spat, rinsed, and headed to the door to fetch the newspaper, but there was none. It was the third day in a row of Manabu not finding the papers at his doorstep. With a sigh of irritation, Manabu went back inside. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he walked to his room, to the wardrobe, and took out his blue shirt and formal pinstriped pants. He fixed his hair and took the keys, but as he prepared to leave, his gaze fell on a framed photo of himself and his grandmother on the hall cupboard; it was probably from when she was quite healthy. But her heart condition had worsened over time. She had passed away seven months ago due to a particular heart disease, and though it was long back then, the void still lingered. Manabu loved his grandmother the most. With no parents, she had been his world.
Manabu was seventeen and would likely turn eighteen by the end of the year. It was his second year of college.
At the college library where Mai, Naomi, Mion, and Taiju—closest companions of Manabu's—were invested in the CRT monitor computer. Mai had already mastered circulating on the web and media, while others watched her explore so many things they never imagined existed, and it was extra-amusing or 'supercalifragilisticexpialidocious'. Taiju said.
Detens Scholars High School and College was one of the most renowned institutions in Feropia. Manabu and his friends were students there. It was established in 1808 in Christina. Manabu reached the school and went to his respective classes. The first lecture of Mr. Futaba commenced—Geology. He was also the head of the Geological department; he was friendly and a little childish, and Manabu's closer friend—Naomi's father. She and Mion had been his great companions since childhood. The bond between Sayuri Mion and Naomi was inseparable; their bond resembled sibling-like love. Even as they grew older, they were always beside each other.
Similarly, the brotherhood between Taiju and Manabu was well-known on campus. Taiju came from privilege. His father was among the wealthiest elites of Feropia. His father had entrusted him with management of a whole flat—collecting rent and overseeing maintenance—to teach him responsibilities.
In the evening, Manabu and his companions gathered at Taiju's apartment. They chatted for hours and hours. Despite their varied personalities, they were united by a shared, uncompromising sense of justice.
Manabu had an obsessive interest in criminal studies and law enforcement. Manabu's obsession with justice was rooted in his bond with his grandmother, his guiding light. A paragon of kindness. She was always good to people. She was everything Manabu aspired to be, yet he believed he could never be it. He often thought poorly of himself, feeling he could never make her proud. Even as she lay dying, her thoughts were probably filled with compassion. But Manabu could never forget the regret that consumed him the night before she passed.
His grandmother had given a man a large sum of money with no guarantee of repayment. Manabu called her a fool for it and spent the whole evening riding Taiju's motorcycle around town, trying to cool his frustration.
Later Taiju insisted on taking Manabu home. But by the time they returned, they found his grandmother lying on her bed, completely still. They thought she was asleep. It wasn't until dinner, when they tried to wake her, that they realized. They called an ambulance and rushed to the hospital, but the doctor's words shattered Manabu: "She had passed away hours ago. She died of congestivecardiomyopathy. Her heart had enlarged beyond its normal size."
Ironically, that regret grew even more after the man to whom she had lent the money returned the favor. Since then, he always regretted, repented.
Manabu also had some mental health issues that he hid from his friends. Since childhood, strange nightmares had plagued him, feeling more like memories than dreams. He had once visited a doctor and a psychiatrist with his grandmother, undergone mental evaluations, and been prescribed medication. They believed it was psychogenic amnesia. But for the past few weeks, Manabu hadn't taken his medication at all, and the nightmares crept in during the dead of night.
A torment that refused to leave. In his deep dreams, he sees a child, probably himself when he was a child—though he did not know when exactly it all happened or why. He would whisper strange things, uttering cuss words, calling for his mother and sister. He could see only three wolves eating a white rabbit with purplish eyes, while its child was forced to look at it being eaten alive. And then those wolves attacked the child and left him in a devastating state.
At this point, Manabu always woke up. He tried to remember, but it felt like that part of the memory never existed, or his brain was simply trying to forget it. A complex emotion or just a delusion, perhaps.
Within a few days, their college closed for winter vacation, granting Manabu several weeks to sleep in peaceful solitude. Days passed like a cold breeze running through tree leaves. He got up and fetched the newspapers.
In the Global News Section, recent reports covered ongoing conflicts in Lafiaza, featuring Ivann Communities. Another article detailed Castela's final payment under the Treaty of 1871. According to the writings, ("Castela made its final reparations payment of approximately 10 billion Castelian Marks on December 11, 1899—yesterday—to war-torn nations, including The Empire of Lafiaza, the United Republic of Australasia (URA), and some other allied nations.") This payment, mandated by the Treaty of 1871, aimed to address damages from the past War of Empires but had worsened poverty in Castela. Manabu personally didn't like the allied nations for their oppressiveness, nor Castela for it's dictatorial nature. He raised the belief that everyone should be treated equally despite—religion, language, culture, or race.
On the third page, The National News Section, a headline caught his eye:
("Another Murder by Mr. Santa Claus.")
He read on curiously, pointing at each line with his finger. The page detailed a gruesome event from this midnight, sometime between one to three a.m. Three criminals, identified as locals, had been brutally murdered in the neighboring district, Doshiqi. ("All three victims were criminals.") Finishing the article while stuffing bread into his mouth, a thought sparked in his mind…
That afternoon—Manabu, at Taiju's flat, lounged in Taiju's room, sprawled upside down on the bed, legs dangling over the edge. His mind felt heavy with boredom. Taiju had stepped out to buy snacks, leaving Manabu alone in the quiet room of the apartment. Mion, Naomi, and Mai were occupied elsewhere. So, there was no one to talk to. Just then, the door handle clicked, and Taiju entered with a bag of snacks in hand. Without a word, he tossed a packet of chips at Manabu's upside-down face. Too lethargic to react, Manabu didn't even bother moving his hands, and it patted his face.
"Feeling bored?" Taiju asked, plopping onto his study chair. Manabu didn't respond to it. It was normal for Manabu to act such a way or isolated or miserable. "Did you catch today's news? There's a serial killer in Doshiqi. Goes by Mr. Santa." Taiju asked to bring up some topic to chatter. Manabu's eyes flickered with interest. "Yup, I've heard about him!" he replied while he stayed sprawled upside down.
"He's murdered about twelve people in just over two months. And all of them were criminals!"
"Twelve?! I thought eight," Manabu said. Taiju opened the drawer of his wooden desk and grabbed a stack of newspapers wrapped tight with a rubber band. Flipping through them, he found the pages he wanted and threw them to Manabu. "Check these November 27 and December 5 news." Manabu had read those articles before. Though at the dates, he didn't find the newspapers at his doorstep. Later he bought it from a store. He remembered that he conceived a few questions. When did this Santa guy start appearing? What's his moral? Does he murder—alone?
Taiju rested back in the chair and replied while opening his third packet. "Early winter. Around late October, when the first chills hit. In just a month, he'd taken down five serious offenders. But whether he's a vigilante or just a psychopathic murderer, they can't say. Do all bad people deserve death? Well no, but in this case? Yes."
"If he only kills criminals, does that make him a hero? Morally speaking?" Manabu mused. Taiju rubbed his chin and said, "It depends on individual perspective. To me, he's right, but not justice. All his victims were vile. One of them, I can't recall the name, killed and violated women and children. Santa took him out. That guy deserved it, didn't he?"
'Quite an ambitious killer,' Manabu thought. "He kills in different ways, like the punishment fits the crime. There's a saying: 'What you do is what you get in return.' Maybe this Santa wants to bring peace to society. Or maybe he just enjoys the thrill. A hunter that hunts the hunters."
Taiju began recounting Santa's victims from the start. "November 27—We were at the library. That morning, two people were found dead: Karu Jouiki and Sora Jouiki. Senior members of a mafia gang. Their bodies were found in an apartment where they were hiding from rival gangs. At first, the police thought it was a gang hit and closed the case in two months. Five suspects arrested."
"Then there was another case of a mother, Miazu Shoko. She's a single mother. Her husband left her, claiming she was narcissistic. They divorced, but their kid stayed with her due to a court ruling. A few months later, an arrest warrant was issued after her younger son called his father for help. According to the news: (Shoko had been abusing her children since the divorce. Her elder son died because she slammed his head against a wall, killing him instantly, while her younger son ended up hospitalized.) Shoko fled, but the father pressed charges. She vanished in September and remained at large until November 30, when her body was found in an apartment, with many suspects but no leads."
Manabu had a question: "How did the police connect these killings to Santa? These murders happened across the country in different districts. Dice-roll guesses would be foolish.". Taiju's eyes lit up; he'd totally forgotten to mention one thing. "The gifts! Santa leaves random signature gifts at every crime scene. For example, last night, they found a Merry Christmas note, and at some scenes, a keyed Santa toy that plays Jingle Bells." The investigation team had revisited earlier cases and found similar gifts, previously overlooked but now a critical clue.
Then suddenly Taiju said, "And there are these bloody Lafians." Manabu looked at Taiju turning furious. "Ivanns better off alone. The almighty knows how long their suffering will go. I wish those bloody Lafians face their end in the worst way possible." Manabu noticed the page he had paused on was yesterday's news article where it talked about the Ivann and Lafian ongoing conflicts. Taiju was an Ivann by blood. His grandfather was born in West Lafiaza, raised in poverty, later came to Feropia, and now Taiju and his father live and grew up here. But Taiju had a special bond with his people, which led him to hate Lafians. Manabu had nothing to say since they had argued multiple times about this, where Manabu was more humanity-sided, and Taiju wished Lafians diminished. Taiju technically didn't like Feropia as well because it had alliance with Lafiaza.
Just then, Mai entered the apartment with a glad face, her short hair freshly styled. "What's going on?" she asked. She treated herself with a new haircut with her other female friends. She spun once, expecting comments on her fresh appearance, as she appreciated it herself. "How does my new haircut look, Taiju?"
Taiju turned his face immediately, blushing. Adjusting his glasses, he stammered, "The short hair looks great on you.". Manabu noticed the slight embarrassment he had been expecting. His lips curved into a sly, mischievous smile, fully aware of the situation and the dynamics between these two oddballs. He stepped close to Taiju's ear and whispered mischievously in his left ear, "You LOVED it, didn't you?"
Taiju's face turned even redder, and his emotions grew unsteady. He pushed Manabu back with his right hand. Manabu laughed at both of them, clearly enjoying Taiju's discomfort, while Mai was just confused—as always. "What's going on? Why are you both laughing?! Do I look horrible?!" she asked, her eyes shifting between the two boys.
It's just brotherhood…