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lilacxquartz · 3 months ago

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CHASING HUMANITY • kenjaku x fem!reader

ao3 link • masterlist • next chapter >>

summary: ever since 2015, Japan has been plagued by mysterious deaths all over the country with no particular lead, until one day, you saw something you shouldn’t have.

themes: dead dove, reader insert, graphic violence, upsetting descriptions, blood/gore, reader insert, yandere elements, mundane au, no sorcerers, mixed pov

a/n: this is partially an entry for a prompt for au-gust 2024; but also is intended as a multi chapter series. reader is introduced in the next chapter.

Chapter 1. Vagabond

What was it that made someone truly human?

This was a question that had long plagued the great minds of the world for centuries and was also the subject of a self prescribed mission for Kenjaku to find the true meaning behind.

The core definition of humanity, he speculated, was technically a paradox in its own self; a delicate balance of tenderness that mingled with such devastating brutality—compassion that was lost to indifference.

So, perhaps he could say that to in order to be human was to embrace the above.

Yet, he didn’t seem all too satisfied with that answer.

There surely had to be more to it.

A deeper meaning.

And that’s exactly what his life’s mission was. To dip his hands into the murky depths of unseen waters—to navigate through the fine balance of morality and depravity combined.

Kenjaku held these thoughts in his mind as he slowly cruised through the quiet streets of the latest town he found himself in. His presence was thus far successfully unassuming with not a single soul suspecting him of anything unsavoury—at least not yet.

Each ‘session’ as he liked to call his studies, all started off on a similar note, no matter where he ended up.

He’d first begin by observing the dwelling population from a distance and mentally keep track of their behaviour as well as any notable lifestyle factors. This sort of activity doubled as a game that he played with himself; a way to gauge what lay beneath the masks that people wore. To learn more about who they truly were behind closed doors.

In a stretch, he supposed that he could call humanity a performance.

Kenjaku’s own life could fit into a similar rhetoric, after all. He travelled often and his lifestyle could be defined as nomadic, however that much was only out of necessity. He didn’t have the luxury to stick around in one place for too long before someone someone suspected something. Luckily however, Japan had many villages and towns scattered all over the country for him to hide in on a whim and the anonymity of a new environment was always an exciting factor.

It was all a challenge to him, to see just how much he could get away with and for how long.

Continuing to stroll through the streets, he couldn’t help but fantasise about the kill prior to this one. It took place in a different town not too far away. It wasn’t his finest work, but it was enough to feed him that now familiar high from taking a life, though, it was unfortunately soon wearing off. This meant that he would need to strike again soon to get back to that state of mind.

Sometimes, he wondered if the fragility to one’s existence was the answer to his question. However, that much only served as a symptom of humanity without as much of a diagnosis for the cause of being.

Kenjaku sighed to himself while his brain spiralled away; a victim of his own deep thought. He ended up turning the corner into a dark alley and simply waited around in the shadows for his next victim to make an appearance.

As a result, he couldn’t help but shudder as he felt the familiar rush of excitement wash over him; tingling waves of anticipated blood that had yet to be spilled.

Another another life to toy with—to play around with, to allow him to experiment and study the what was surely driving him into madness…! Ah, he really needed to ground himself though before he tipped over the deep end; not wanting to surrender to his fading sanity just yet.

Not before he had something that at least resembled somewhat of an answer, anyway.

Patting down the pocket of his trousers, he let out a heavy breath of relief when he felt the weight of his wallet. Inside, beyond the crumpled old receipts and compacted bills of cash, was a collection of fake identity cards (and passports tucked into an envelope, hidden deep inside his car’s glove compartment). Each printed face represented a persona that he spent time carefully crafting, serving as a lifeline in more ways than one.

Each and every single name on the card was a gateway into another life. Every single face posing as a ticket that presented him with an opportunity to craft a delicate facade, and as for what happened to the bearers of those original documents—well—let’s just say that they simply disappeared (by his own hands of course).

Besides, Kenjaku had what he described as a gift; an unwavering sense of curiosity and as such, he couldn’t help but want to explore the world through the cover of many different people, even if meant to play the part of someone he wasn’t.

From a travelling salesman hailing from Chiba to a freelance photographer who never quite settled in just once place—each fleeting role provided a glimpse into an otherwise benign existence while offering protection from being found out for who he truly was.

(Although, he kept up his make believe lives for so long now, that not even he was sure of who he was prior to setting out to find the fabled answer. He had spent so long of his time, spanning nearly a decade, searching for a solution that may as well not exist, but it was all he had—even if he lost track of who he was in the process.)

For the present time being, he adopted the identity of a former monk by the name of Suguru Geto who had initially resided in Tokyo. This was the person that he resonated with the best thus far due to a magnitude of reasons. Although, upon further examination, he might have appeared to be slightly different (but only if you’d squint). Geto was simply just the closest person he had ever matched in appearance and from what he gathered, the personality wasn’t too far off either.

In a twisted sense, Kenjaku felt even connected to the lives he stole. Specifically the ones he actively represented; the ones that he masqueraded as his own and even though he wasn’t the same person behind the name, he, in a way, considered the act as a way of carrying on their legacy.

Besides, in this entire region, not just the town alone, ‘Geto’ still had some use left to spare. Within the entire prefecture, he aimed to be a face that was just barely recognised; someone who would be able to blend into the background and remain so unremarkable and unthreatening that it could only benefit his cause.

Oh, it was all too perfect.

How sickeningly sweet almost, that not one soul had a single clue of who he was—of exactly what he was capable of.

In a way, he considered if his ability to adapt to a continuously changing environment was what made him more human than others; a sort of side thought experiment that he considered every now and then. Humanity, after all, got to where it was from rapid advancement. By evolving to its given environment.

And in his unforgiving search for an explanation, he had already walked in the shoes of countless lives; he had already adapted, even moulded his personality so many times before that he considered himself to almost be beyond human.

In a way, such a process was actually freeing because suddenly, he gained the means to travel as anybody he wanted to be.

But, at the same time, it was also imprisoning; all of these people contributing nothing in the end other being a waste of space in his kept journal. Sometimes, his search felt more like a chore, but he did suppose that someone had to do it. To figure it all out, because who else would explore the same possibilities the way that he did—who else would go to such depraved depths, if not for him?

Sighing, he paid a final flick of his gaze towards an unlucky passer-by. Finally, it was time to make a move and so he quietly dipped his tracks onto the connecting pavement, maintaining a steady pace behind his latest victim.

It was luckily raining too, so the crashing droplets concealed the sound of his advancing footsteps; the wind obscuring his breathing.

This particular person was someone that he had recognised as the town librarian. The town had a couple of those working in rotational shifts, so this must have been the evening worker. This meant good news for him, because she lived in the outskirts of the town (as he had observed in the past) which provided a cover for him to retreat to (and also because his car wasn’t parked too far away).

And just like predicted, she took a slow but steady path back home, taking her sweet, sweet time.

He knew this woman well enough by now to pick up on some facts about her from his limited time in town. For one, her shift ended at six in the afternoon, yet, she would always, no matter what, wait until it got dark to head home. This was beneficial to him of course, as it meant that he could slip away into the shadows quickly if she were to notice him.

Kenjaku speculated that her personal life therefore, must have been a lonely one. Her shift both started in the afternoon and ended in it and by the time she would finally get home, she would have just enough time to eat, bathe and then dedicate whatever remaining time she had leftover towards taking care of what he speculated to be elderly parent.

(Oh the things he could learn from just spying in the unconcealed windows just outside.)

Considering the deep set under eye bags that painted her face whenever he saw her, he suspected that this responsibility potentially stretched into the morning too.

Therefore, her social life as well as personal life was likely lacking.

This much left him wondering if there could have been a meaning behind the nothingness in life and perhaps he could bring himself closer to the answer if he explored that point. After all, a life otherwise spent in a perpetual state of limbo where nothing happened was surely numbing and bleak.

Maybe even, he could help her find that meaning…?

If only this person knew just how soon it was all going to change though. Indeed, he would help her feel whole again. Regardless of who it was that was going to be the unlucky victim, or rather, the ‘spontaneous participant’ to his plans, he carried a roll of barbed wire tucked carefully away in the folds of his robe along with a roll of duct tape for… convenience purposes.

Finally, just as she lingered around the gate that led towards her home, the librarian stood still as per her returning ritual; as though steeling herself before going inside. This particular moment opened up a prime opportunity for him to swoop in on her and bridge the gap before she slipped out of reach.

In a mere flash, Kenjaku cupped his hand over her face and stifled any potential screams by plugging her lips with his palm. His other hand hooked around her shoulder, shrouding her in the fabric of his robe and even partially concealing her. Quickly, he walked her past her home and off into the adjacent woods nearby, allowing for both of them to disappear into the uninviting darkness.

This action would likely mean that her body would get discovered as soon as tomorrow due to the nearby forest being the grounds for leisurely trail, often fully packed during the daytime.

The librarian’s eyes widened in panic, her body immediately reacting with violent thrashing in an attempt to free herself from his suffocating embrace. The underside of his hand dampened from her muffled cries—the struggle was always the most annoying part. However persevering, he continued to drag her by the heels into the trees, leaving her remaining hope behind and a discarded boot, likely to tip off her disappearance.

Personally, he didn’t mind it one bit.

In fact, he wanted for her to be found because this wasn’t one for him to simply make disappear like the victims of his many identities, no, this one was for the archives.

He wanted nothing more than for his craftsmanship to be located and appreciated and even discussed; because truth be told, he was a narcissistic old bastard. Egoistic, too. Whenever he tuned into the radio or the television and heard his nickname be mentioned on the news off of a reporter’s tongue, he couldn’t help but feel accomplished.

(And at other times, aroused, even. Such acknowledgement led him to understand that he might have had a penchant for bloodthirsty exhibitionism and even the slightest attention stirred up something exciting for him.)

Tearing him away from his fantasised release, a shrill voice managed to finally escape from the woman, “P-please.”

In response, he tightened his grip on her, pulling her slightly smaller frame closer towards him as he dipped his face towards her ear. His hot breath felt nauseating against her skin while he offered a (not so) comforting whisper.

Hushing her, he spoke, “it’ll all be over… eventually.”

Rendering her momentarily unable to reply at the heavy implication of the words, Kenjaku carried her further into the darkness, taking out the stashed away roll of tape to finally silence her cries. With nothing but the light of his barely adjusted vision—the streetlights just about spilling a dim light into the woods, he kicked the woman over to her stomach and took out the roll of barbed wire at long last.

Slowly and almost tauntingly, he unravelled the tightly packed metal cable while keeping a foot securely stamped over her upper back—forcing her to lay perfectly flat against the bristling greenery. He then looped the steel lines around her neck and down towards her crotch area before snaking it back around her torso.

Before long, he perfectly wound her in a brutally artistic display of skilful shibari. The spikes dug through the fabric she wore and cut into her supple flesh, marring the spilled blood with soil.

“I’m doing you a favour, you know,” Kenjaku murmured gently to her while fastening the remainder of the wire around her body, her choice of clothing irritating him slightly due to how forceful he had to be.

Of course however, the woman could only seethe and stammer in despair while he continued onwards with his depravity. Rather than writhing around in pleasure as he secured the knots, she instead squirmed around and groaned in violent pain.

Having taken a lot of lives during his run as an active killer though, he knew that it was only a matter of time before the euphoria would soon kick in. Pain, after all, was in one’s mind and if he was being completely truthful, he felt that it held back humanity a fair amount. To live with the idea of potential discomfort meant to take the safer choices that life had in store instead and in doing so, meant having to abandon the excitement that came with chaos and spontaneity—the very thing that made life worth living.

So, by allowing his ‘volunteers’ to experience such grand opportunities, was his way of giving back to those doomed to endure such mundane routines. What he offered to the lucky few was a break from it all while in exchange, he would manage to fill another page or two in his journal, hopefully getting closer and closer to the answer that always seemed to be ever so slightly just out of reach.

Continuing, he muttered out what he thought to be soothing words as the librarian (whose name he never even bothered to learn) would shiver in coldness and terror, forced to listen to the ramblings of a depraved man.

“Your life for a lack of better words was… shit. Wasn’t it?” he asked her. “Go on. You can at least give me a nod. You know I’m right.”

However she didn’t respond as he had hoped. Instead, she continued to toss and tremble while the spearing wire continued to dig itself further into her bloodied tissue, unintentionally prematurely shortening her own life in a futile struggle.

Kenjaku tutted in disapproval at the lack of answer, “Typical,” he sighed, “nobody will ever truly appreciate my efforts, I suppose. I thought you would be special though, but it looks like I’m wrong yet again.”

He stared at her for a little longer as she continued to violently sob into the raining mud.

“Not to worry,” he piped up in a promising tone, slipping on a pair of thick gardening gloves fished from his other pocket with the intention to carry her by the cable, “your life wasn’t taken in vain,” he said as he crouched down, “you’ll be remembered for generations all thanks to me and isn’t that much better than dying as a nobody?”

Picking himself up with her in tow, he couldn’t help but find the low guttural whine that she made to be something special. People were capable of all sorts of sounds at the verge of death and when pushed beyond their very limits, they were capable of so many interesting things.

He walked with her until he reached a small bridge just outside of the town. It was technically more of an underpass, but not too frequently used. The main road that connected into the town was more popular, so this gave him the freedom as well as enough time to perfectly hoist and suspend her body over the frame under the guidance of the warm street lights guiding his way.

The forest was small, after all. Barely a cluster of woods. Perhaps a terrible place during the night, but completely harmless during the day.

All was going perfectly well too, until he heard a noise rustling in the shrubbery surrounding the area.

It was too careful to be a surprised animal.

No, this had to be a person. A witness?

Finishing up quickly, he tracked what appeared to be the figure of someone retreating back into the woods in an hurried attempt of escape but there was absolutely no chance in hell that he was going to just let them go.

So you’d better run.

And fast.

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envihellbender · 3 months ago

Note

Eddie Munson as a killer, seeing Steve in a trial

Rating: Mature

Fandom: Stranger Things

Characters: Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington,

Content: Character death, court room, rape mention

Summary: Steve is brought in as a witness to testify against Eddie who is on trial for a murder charge against Billy Hargrove.

—

Eddie knew Steve was being brought as a witness, and his gut ached ever since he found out. When he was brought into the courtroom in his orange jumpsuit and his arms handcuffed behind his back his biceps and wrists had been ticcing violently but the restraints forced them into place. He knew he’d have some bruises when he got back to his cell. His lawyer, Harold Peterson, had assured him that all of the evidence was circumstantial, and was confident that Eddie would walk. He didn’t care so much about that right now, as he watched Steve, handsome in his best suit, approached the stand. He didn’t even look at Eddie, he’d been crying with a dark red bite mark on his hand. His hair at least was immaculate, Eddie knew that meant he had spent too long fixing it up like he always did when he was anxious. Still, Eddie felt a twist of anger in his chest and tears begin to swell, dampening his thick dark brown eyebrows as he thought about how Steve wouldn’t even look at him.

“Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?” The Clerk asked, which seemed to cause Steve to jolt. He cleared his throat and placed his hand on the bible, his voice hoarse and sore.

“Uh-huh. Yeah. I swear,” Steve stammered. Eddie didn’t dare look up, he knew this was coming. Steve was too good he was too moral. Too naive, still believed the cops would help in situations like this.

“Can you tell me where you were at 10:30pm on the night in question?” The prosecution asked. Eddie vaguely recognised him from his billboards around Hawkins - Jeremy Oldman. He was expensive, Billy’s dad must be really sore, he thought.

“I was at work, at Family Video. Store closes at 11 on Fridays.” Steve spoke as if he’d rehearsed his responses, they reminded Eddie of when he had to give evidence against his dad. Stay calm, say what’s relevant.

“And your colleague Miss Buckley can verify that?” Prosecutor Oldman asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“And when did you find out about William Hargrove being hospitalised?”

“Erm, the next morning from my bro- from Deputy Harrington, sir.” Steve threw a look towards the audience, Eddie turned around and sure enough Gator Harrington was there in his uniform. Eddie had to admit after being interviewed by the guy he did lose a lot of respect for him.

“And do you remember seeing the accused the night of the murder?” When Oldman asked Steve winced, Eddie felt some relief at that. Maybe they weren’t over.

“I- well, I saw him that afternoon. He spent the night at mine and then I- dunno.” Steve paused, he threw a look at Eddie, a disappointed frown. “I drove him to school. I would’ve picked him up but he had the Hellfire club. Or so I thought.”

“Can you elaborate on that? So you thought?”

“Erm. Dustin came into the store-”

“That’s Dustin Henderson?” Oldman interrupted forcefully.

“Yeah he’s a buddy of mine and Eds- Edward Munson’s, sir,” Steve corrected. He was using his masked voice, the same he used when on the phone to his dad.

“So he came into Family Video?”

“Yeah and he said Eddie had cancelled this week’s meet which is weird. He never does that.”

“And what do you think he was doing-”

“Objection, your honour,” Attorney Peterson said suddenly from Eddie’s right making him jump. “Conjecture.”

“Approved,” Judge Wallace confirmed. Eddie looked at her for the first time, before he’d been far too frightened and felt as if she suddenly appeared before him. She was in her fifties, her tight curls pinned back and her glasses were on the end of her nose.

“Let me reword that. Did this worry you?” Oldman said, a tense irritation to his voice like he wasn’t used to being challenged. That felt strange to Eddie given his profession.

“Yeah. I thought he was sick or something.” Steve sounded hurt when he said that, and Eddie’s neck snapped up. His thick black eyebrows were furrowed as he stared at Steve who wouldn’t meet his eyes. Is that what this is about? He was upset that Eddie didn’t tell him?

“Tell me, Mister Harrington, how did Mister Munson feel about William Hargrove-”

“Objection. Hearsay. We’re not gossiping here are we?” Peterson said with a mocking laughter on his voice. Eddie was lucky that he got him as a public defender he had to admit, he had slicked back blond hair and twinkling brown eyes that made him look a mixture of professional and sleazy.

“I’ll allow it but tread carefully, councillor,” Judge Wallace repeated. She reminded Eddie of his old Math teacher.

“Thank you, your honour. So how do you think Mister Munson feels about William Hargrove?”

“He- he doesn’t like him but- but hardly anyone does. He has good reason-”

“Do you think he’d wish harm on him?” Oldman interrupted a little forcefully.

“I- well-” Steve hesitated. For the first time he looked at Eddie properly, his cheeks burned red and his eyes began to water.

“Answer the question, please, Mister Harrington.”

“The erm, I’d find it difficult to picture him acting on anything.”

“But you think he’d wish him harm?” Oldham insisted again, Eddie almost wanted to tell him off.

“I- erm- I mean, I guess- I mean thinking and fantasies aren’t illegal, right?” Steve joked awkwardly.

“But he did wish him harm? Yes or no, please.”

“I- erm- yes.” Steve had an apologetic look on his face as he turned to Eddie, who in turn gave a small smile and relaxed slightly, he was still terrified of jail but at least Steve didn’t completely despise him.

“Can you tell the court about how you found out about William Hargrove?” Oldman asked, even thought it was clear from the jury and the audience that they were more curious about Steve’s conflict, Eddie thought.

“I- erm- well, Gator- the deputy was round for breakfast and he said he’d had a late night because of it. Everyone was really freaked out.”

“And did you talk to Mister Munson about it?”

“I- erm- yeah- I text him. Why-”

“And what did he say?”

“I- erm-” Steve stopped. “I don’t-”

“What did he says Mister Harrington?”

“That it was only Billy. And he deserved it,” Steve mumbled reluctantly.

“Thank you, Mister Harrington. No further questions.”

“Anything to add, councillor?” Judge Wallace directed at Peterson. He stood up immediately, his suit looked fancy, you could barely tell it was thrifted, Eddie thought.

“I’d like to circle back to something the prosecution said,” Peterson began, pacing back and forth. His demeanour was far friendlier than Oldman’s. “Mister Harrington, can you tell me again, do you think my client is capable of murder?”

“I- erm- well, I didn’t think so.” Steve’s tone was reluctant, Eddie felt pang of irritation at how Steve was talking to his lawyer, as irrational as it was.

“I know, it’s tricky when he has been accused.” Steve looked taken aback by Peterson’s friendly tone and actually managed to relax. Eddie was relieved, his fingers were entwined in front of him ticcing back and forth. “But do you truly think that my client did it.”

“I mean, he’s a suspect so-”

“I’m going to have to insist on yes or no, I’m afraid,” Peterson interrupted.

“I- No. I don’t think he did it, necessarily,” Steve eventually admitted. Eddie’s back straightened and he held his breath as his brown eyes lit up. He stared at Steve in disbelief, he threw a look behind him. Gator was not happy.

“Necessarily?”

“I dunno, Billy hurt people in the Hellfire club really bad. And Eddie likes protecting people.” There was an odd look on Steve’s face, like there was something he’d been told to keep quiet about even thought he thought it was important.

“So if my client suspected one of his friends of a murder, what would he do?” Peterson asked calmly.

“He’d take the fall,” Steve answered immediately.

“And, Mister Harrington, you do know what school has been like for Mister Munson don’t you?” Peterson gestured at Eddie as he spoke, almost like he was using Steve’s connection to Eddie to benefit them.

“Yeah, he got bullied pretty bad,” Steve answered quickly. The opposite of how reluctant he’d been with Oldman, Eddie glanced at the jury… They seemed receptive.

“And did he ever resort to violence then?”

“No.” Steve was more certain of that than anything else he’d said.

“Tell me, is he a very physical guy?”

“Oh, absolutely not.”

“Is hitting William Hargrove so hard with a baseball bat that he was comatose and then hospitalised - is that extremely out of character for him?”

“Yeah, absolutely.”

“And even if he did, hypothetically, do it, which obviously my client has pled not guilty.” Peterson spoke as if he was protective of his client, and Eddie found himself feeling like a child with his parent. “There’s no way he could have known that William Hargrove would die of his injuries? He wouldn’t know how to hit him to hurt him on purpose.”

“Yeah. Yeah, exactly. If Eddie did do it. It was an accident. He’d have just meant to scare him. He’s never even used a bat outside of gym class,” Steve joked, or attempted to. His voice sounded more desperate.

“But even then, that isn’t the Eddie you know, is it?”

“No. No, sir.” Steve shook his head as he spoke for emphasis.

“Do you know about everything Mister Hargrove did to various members of the Hellfire Club, Mister Harrington?” Peterson asked, causing Eddie to tense. He told him not to bring any of that up. He looked over at Oldman who looked worried, he knew something, Eddie thought.

“I- erm- I know he was a real dick to them,” Steve said, more as if he was trying to think rather than he was reluctant to.

“Do you think any of them might have a motive to hurt William Hargrove?”

“Yeah, absolutely.”

“Any names spring to-”

“Your honour. Objection,” Oldman said as he stood, it was obvious to everyone he was starting to panic. “There’s no evidence for any of this, it is clearly hearsay and conjecture. The police already interviewed everyone in this club.”

“He’s right councillor,” Judge Wallace reluctantly admitted. “Can you justify this line of questioning?”

“Yes. I’m pointing out the many holes in the prosecutions story and showing there is plenty of room for reasonable doubt. As well as raising other potential suspects,” Peterson said calmly, a small smirk on his lips.

“I’ll allow it, but tread carefully, councillor.”

“Thank you, your honour.” He bowed and then turned back to Steve. “Do you know what William Hargrove did to Mister Gareth Walton?”

“Objection! Mister Hargrove is not on trial here,” Oldman spluttered, getting to his feet.

“Yes, councillor where are you going with this.”

“I received information that I think the prosecution and jury should know, and if someone else knew they should have disclosed,” Peterson said, his cheerful expression had hardened. Oldman was silent. Steve looked at Eddie and could see he was visibly panicking, his chest was starting to heave, he told the lawyer not to use this. Peterson promised, he feels himself rocking back and forth, wanting to say something but his jaw is doing the anxious tic where it clicks side to side and he can’t make it stop. Steve wants to run over and hold him, but all he can do is stay put.

“And what is that councillor?” Judge Wallace asked.

“One of Edward Munson’s close friends, Gareth Walton was viciously beaten, raped, and left for dead by William Hargrove. Who wasn’t questioned by the police, by the way.”

“Your Honour-”

“I want to know why wasn’t Gareth Walton given the same treatment as my client?” Peterson asked as he turned to Oldman.

“Your Honour this is-”

“No further questions,” Peterson said. They dismissed Steve as he got to his feet, he looked at Eddie with pleading eyes. He returned a small smile, he felt terrible guilt that what happened to Gareth was dragged over the court room… But the feeling of the steel in his hand from when he smashed the bat into Billy’s skull? That had redeemed him, he hoped.

#envi writes #steddie #stranger things #Eddie Munson #Steve Harrington #killer au #court case au

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