#but she's otherwise almost more like spartan when it comes to decorating her living space

[cateringisalie]

FFVII Halloween Day 4

Written for the prompt ‘Japanese Ghosts’

Kiriko suppressed a groan at the latest report from Nibelheim. Another issue with one of the houses. She sifted it from the bundle received and put it into the specific tray for issues. Two years on and the cover-up of the town’s burning still had teething troubles. Some resulted from the absurd pace the replica had been constructed. Hojo had not cared desperately on how sound any of the structures were and expended far more time on the survivors and ensuring Sephiroth had not damaged the lab during his breakdown. The damage to the reactor was well documented and the critical Jenova sample mutilated, but the majority of it remained viable and had long since been transported to Midgar. Hojo came back too; whatever he had planned for those rounded up in the aftermath remained ongoing. There were separate reports for the techs still stationed up there, but they were Hojo’s eyes only. Leaving all the other complaints to flood to Kirko. She flipped through the rest of the reports. A request for more training for those assigned guide roles; far too many accidents for the now extremely rare trade caravans. More than one stooge had lead groups into dragon nests or along crumbling paths and were never heard from again. A sensible request – and one based on previous requests likely to go nowhere. The look of the town was enough it seemed. Making it function as a real settlement was secondary to simply not letting the world know what Sephiroth did. To this end, the shop was stocked with dummy containers, specific food parcels sent to each stooge to tend to themselves. Saved time; why bother playing at running an inn, running a shop, being a guide? So few people went near the place. The President was more receptive to faults and structural issues. Faulting plumbing, bad wiring, crumbling mortar, leaky roofs. Maintenance crews were frequently sent up to shore up the place, the town not sitting comfortably on its hasty foundations, these forced into the scorched ground from before. There had been some saving graces; not all the town was consumed by fire and this aided verisimilitude in the recreations. They had partial photographs from numerous amateurs and the in-tact foundations allowed for a decent replica of the layout. The Shinra mansion escaped the fire courtesy of its encircling wall. The reactor had been far too distant. And a few houses remained including the inn. The inn never gave anyone problems, but one house – on the far side of the town square – did. Strange this one survived, when the Mayor’s house next door was only so much ash. But much of what transpired two years ago was unclear. Kiriko at least had access to know Sephiroth was the cause and the town was a cover. What drove Sephiroth to extremes other than it involving the old lab in the Shinra mansion was above her pay grade. The house in question was scorched and damaged but otherwise left intact. Suitable enough for a single denizen – though in truth most houses were pushed to have single occupants. There was some fraternization going on as some of the reports delighted in spying on their neighbours and demanded disciplinaries for their work life behaviour. Such a strange sentiment. Not something affecting the house on the edge of the square. The one closest to the Shinra mansion. The house had an unusual turn-over of occupants; with a few exceptions, the first stooges assigned to the town were still there. The general store and one of the outlying houses needed a reassignment but everyone else stayed in place. The house on the edge had gone through ten occupants over the last two years and stood vacant for long periods. Too long for comfort. The ten occupants- Kiriko shook her head. Coincidence all of them had subsequently died. Further conspiracy those who checked on the house after not seeing the occupant for days were also dead. A conspiracy of this scale would see many people seeing patterns everywhere. Besides; focusing on those deaths disrupted the pattern. Two had died inside the house it was true. The rest perished either elsewhere in Nibelheim or further afield. A strange coincidence but nothing more. Not as if Kiriko had not taken the deaths seriously; each new occupant scoured the house looking for mould, for carbon monoxide leaks, Mako poisoning. All such attempts brought up no common factors. There was a mystery here somewhere, some mundane reason. Reports of strange figures in the house at odd hours or woken and gasping for breath pointed back again to the poison gas. Someone was missing something or overlooked a cause. And- She heaved a sigh and looked at the report. From the neighbour. Hadn’t seen the householder in a week, did not want to go inside. Could someone check? Perhaps the only way she would get to the bottom of this mystery is if she went in person.

========================================================================================================================== Nibelheim was different in person. Not a surprise given the difference between seeing adverts for Costa del Sol and enjoying a beach holiday there. But Nibelheim existed in an atmosphere wholly unrepresented by any of the photographs. Nothing in either the historic reference images research dug up or the surveillance photographs of the current iteration conveyed the restless tension of the town. Her back itched as if a thousand eyes peered at her constantly. The sun seemed dim in the sky. And there was something almost on the edge of hearing; an almost whispering, sing-song voice whose words made no sense. Nerves. Must be nerves. The kind of antiquated thinking leading to speculation of some supernatural reasons for the deaths in the house. The house in question was across the square – too new like the rest of the town. Weathered but not via the environment. Another factor seeming good in her office back in Midgar, but lacking in person. Perhaps an idea to rethink the design principles. Maybe simply tearing down the house would help too. One house missing would not be such a huge issue to work around; accidents still happened. Buildings still burnt without the spark of a renegade SOLDIER. Kiriko didn’t bother with the other houses or the stooges. No one on the streets which would be a warning sign to visitors. They would need to be told. A cold blast of wind left her shivering. She wanted to be in and out of this place as fast as she could. Go back somewhere more civilised. The lock on the door had been forced when the last body was found and no effort had yet been made to repair the lock. Another job for later. Inside was dusty, spartan but perfectly serviceable. One large room filling the interior, the remainder sectioned off into sleeping area, living area, kitchen. Cold in here too. A small Mako furnace in one corner the only possible source of heat; it still functioned fortunately, the device warming rapidly. Likely the room would only be warm once she was done. Travel bag on one of the beds along with her coat. Her Dictaphone would do for notes; again, wanting this out the way quick. “House is in good repair. Ceiling intact, no evidence of leaking.” Minor point; unless something noxious was stored in the attic space, a leaking roof was not about to cause so many problems. Kiriko crossed to the kitchen and ran the tap. Sample jar under both the hot and cold faucets. “Samples from water source for later testing.” She bent down closer to the water. “Water is clear.” She shook the samples. “No evidence of visible contaminants in the water.” So much for the easy possibilities. She worked on. Pulling the contents out of cupboards, cleaning out beneath the sink. Dust dunes, nominal spots of mould. Nothing strange. She tested the food; all of it the same mass-distributed food packs the others got. What else? Nothing but wood beams and dust beneath the floorboards. Toxicity sweeps of the air revealed nothing. She pulled out stuffing from the mattresses and pillows, took samples but found nothing of note. What was she missing? The attic was the last remaining place. Getting up into it was a tricky option. No ladder and no light; she stacked a chair on the table and heaved up into the dark. Troubling visions, ghost stories, scary films she happily watched late at night in her apartment and thought nothing of came back unbidden. Kiriko shivered and clicked on her torch. Nothing. Well. Not nothing. Water-damaged boxes of photo-albums. Children’s toys. Decorations from New Year’s. No leaks in the roof. No barrel of toxic chemicals. But strangely the sense of a voyeur close at hand. Kirko swung her flashlight left to no avail. No one watching. No doll rendered creepy by distance and changed attitudes with a gaze fixated on her. Nothing but the strange itch along her spine. Nothing to explain the deaths. Nothing to explain the atmosphere. Seemingly futile but worth checking; she took a few samples of the carboard boxes, the decorations – who knew what they were made of. Perhaps the interior of the roof- Something crashed in the room below and she jumped, torchlight swinging randomly in the dark. No further noises followed. Kirko took a moment to compose and steady her breathing. The chair. Clearly the chair. As she expected; the chair had topped somehow and now lay on the floor beside the table. A breeze or she had not aligned it right at the time. But for whatever reason it had fallen. Unless someone had come in and knocked it down to spite her. The development made it more difficult to descend, but given how the town lived, no one was about to come aid her. Nothing for it but to use the edge of the hatch to lower back to the table and drop the remaining distance. Simple. The table collapsed as she landed on it, the shocking speed of its destruction knocking the wind out of her and sprawling her onto her back on the carpet. Kiriko groaned. The day was not going well. And somehow it was dark outside. Nearby the Mako furnace was blasting out heat. She could stay here for the evening and be out tomorrow. No sense bothering the inn and either playing along with the ruses or admitting who she was. At least it was warm. A quiet evening; she took one of the beds, eating her rations for dinner while reading her book. But the house felt off still. Nicely warm – possibly too warm. But the open hatch above where the table once stood kept catching her gaze. She had to tear her attention away from it more than once. A glance out the window revealed the lights in the other houses darkening as the night drew on. Best to sleep and be away first thing. Get the samples tested. The bed was comfortable, the Mako furnace switched off but still emitting heat. So dark here; quite the contrast to the bright lights of the Upper Plate back home. How did people sleep so easily here with the wind whistling so often? Sleep evaded Kiriko at first; she tossed and turned. Some strange nervousness induced her to peer through the darkness to the open hatch. Vaguely visible in the gloom. She shut her eyes and willed sleep. Kiriko blinked awake from dreams of fire. It was boiling under the covers. She threw them back, the removal doing little for her comfort. Had she not turned the Mako furnace off? No visible lights on the device, but she padded over, her shirt glued to her back with sweat. Cold and inert; like it had been off for hours. Where was this heat coming from? It would be cold outside, but- She hauled the door open. Darkness out there. No stars. No streetlights. Not one solitary other source of light in the town. Nor were the distant outlines of the other buildings visible. Nothing but the sensation of observation. Of a witness to her. And the whispering. No relief from the heat, no merciful cold air. Stupid but- Something shifted in the gloom out there, some shambling motion. Kiriko panicked and slammed the door shut. Stupid. No lock. She grabbed at the destroyed table, leaning the wood against the door and backed away. Nothing. The door was closed and blocked. Still too hot. Fridge and freezer. There was some frozen food she could make use of. She approached the fridge and a voice spoke. “Ceiling intact, no evidence of leaking.” She jumped, panicked and calmed. Relief. Her Dictaphone. Those were her words from earlier. But why was it replaying her recording. Kiriko gave up on the fridge and crossed back to her bed. The Dictaphone lay out in the open – not in her bag where she left it. It played onto itself, her notes slurring a little like the batteries were giving out. She picked it up- A rasping, gurgling scream burst from the speakers. Kiriko flung the device away, heart pounding. The Dictaphone hit the opposite wall and carried on playing. All her glib remarks and dispassionate comments sounding in the darkness. Too loud. She rushed to the device, braced for a new shock. None came and she clicked the device off into merciful silence. Too quiet. Oppressively quiet. Her pulse roared in her ears, her breathing in panicked bursts. And nothing else. No wind whipping around the house. No bird calls or monster howls. Nothing. A noise from above; of something sliding across wood. Kiriko’s mouth went dry. The Dictaphone clicked on again, her words slurring and mangled, blotting out the noise from above. She fumbled with the battery compartment, tearing the mako cells out to no avail. Her notes continued to play. She dropped the machine to the ground and stamped on it. Splintered metal and plastic dug into the sole of her foot but did silence the thing. The slide on the wood was louder. Closer. Impossible to tear her eyes from the hatch. Fingers, too pale, the skin strangely mottled and damaged grasped the hatch. Kiriko’s heart lurched and she dropped to the floor, scuttling back, unable to look away. Something person shaped leant down from the hatch, a river of hair cascading down with it. It moved gracefully, expanding out. A figure in white, face hidden the hair. It was white or blond and with a flicker shifted to black. The room was consumed around her, the figure now closer and Kiriko with nowhere left to go. She pressed back harder against the stone wall to no avail as the figure crawled on mangled limbs. This had to be a dream or a nightmare or- The figure’s hand clutched at her ankle and drew her to it and-

#ffviihalloween #final fantasy vii #ffvii #final fantasy #final fantasy 7 #my ffvii fanfic