Take Responsibility.

[wordsmithery]

The time allotted for this week's investigation passes fairly briefly, but not easily - what with the state of the body and the things that have been found, the mood is perhaps oddly sobering. Either way, eventually the elevator will be waiting for you at the exit of your floor of choice, bringing you up to the courtroom swiftly and easily. There are so few of you now. Two more portraits have joined the ranks of the dead, watching over the proceedings. Gangrel and Orihime's images watch over you with with eyes that see nothing, all colored in greyscale and set up on their places in the podium circle, black fabric draped over each setting. As always, the lectern remains empty and unaffected by what's happened here. After a while, however, once everyone has found their place in the circle, the Wordsmith can be heard addressing the group, voice audible throughout the room. "Sacrificing one to save many—that is ostensibly why Harmonious is no longer among you. Truly, that is the most pragmatic of options in a situation with no chance of victory. I may even come close to commending such a decision. But I must also wonder if the dead can be said to have been 'saved', when they have passed beyond your reach in all but mere messages. Unless you should wish to follow Harmonious and join them, hold the guilty accountable for their practicality." Eleven Apprentices remain. However many leave this place is up to you.

Comments

[matchbreaker]

[ Elda comes into the trial room with gritted teeth and carrying a Bloody Levin Sword, the one that she found in Orihime’s room. Clearly very frustrated, as with last trial she walks right past her own podium and situates herself at Gold’s, between Hanyuu and Lusamine.

This day still sucks.

What evidence she has probably speaks for itself, which is good, because she doesn’t make a big show of it yet, instead sort of loudly enough for everyone to hear whispering, ]

I don’t imagine anyone just wants to confess, huh?

[ Of course not. ]

[foundfate]

[Look who has evidence for once!

Watanuki places a room key down on his podium.]

It's Orihime's, I checked it on her door. I found it on the floor in her room, near her desk.

[oyashiromama]

[Hanyuu casts a dirty look to the lectern. It's worse than the one she gave Kira, before his execution. The Wordsmith's address does not sit well with her today, and it seems she's having a hard time keeping her tongue.

After a few moments of breathing deep, her fist curled on the podium, she looks away from it, focusing on the others here. The hairpins Orihime wore sit in front of her, not evidence, just...something to hold on to.]

I...examined her. [This isn't getting any easier.] Orihime...she was found in the ballroom She bled out from a wound to her chest, one that would've killed her...instantly, I believe. She was struck by someone who knew what they were doing, as it was right...right in her heart.

However, there was definitely a struggle involved. On her hands and fingers, there were cuts from a blade, and...she had bruising on her stomach. Additionally, there- it looks like the person who attacked her tried to strike for her head first, but missed. A section of her hair was shorter, and I found the hairs, nearby.

[...And-]

And...she looked at peace. She was holding yellow roses. It looked like...like she'd been laid down to rest.

[She says no more.]

[elepe]

...Let's get started. I found this notebook in the kitchen.

[Lusamine flashes the notebook, before opening to a specific page.]

I believe our sweet Orihime was planning a party for us--she had plans all lined up in here for decoration, food, and merriment in this notebook. I believe she was out setting these up when she was attacked.

But... [Lusamine opens to the back of the party planning page, pointing at it with a shaky finger.] She knew the risk. "If I die tonight, please forgive"...and then it ends.

hand check

[firstaid]

[Evidence.... evidence... ah!]

The yellow roses! So if someone had been helping Orihime, they likely would have either helped her put up the roses or they placed them in her hands as she died if she wasn't already holding on to them.

Those roses have thorns, so there could be a chance that someone has scratches on them from the thorns still. So please, everyone, let me see your hands!

[She will in turn take off her gloves that are not ripped or torn in anyway and show her hands which are free of injury.]

[tsugomori]

[ Mikazuki supposed that it was inevitable, that things would come to this point, and so, he still stands as he is, ready as he usually is, despite whatever he may be wearing. He's good at playing roles, parts, or whatever may be necessary. So, he'll take on that role now.

Better him than...no, he won't think about that now.

Mikazuki will straighten himself and face all the rest remaining here. ]

Ah... finally. I would have already confessed, if it weren't for what you had all said at the very beginning. Not that I blame either of you for it. It's always good to be wary, as you never know what may happen -- but I do know what my fate is, and I won't bother fighting to change it.

I, Mikazuki Munechika, admit to it. That I killed Miss Orihime Inoue in cold blood.

[ He seems like he may be content to leave it there...but some people asked for an explanation. ]

I won't ask for anyone's forgiveness, of course. Yes, I did take advantage of her trust. Orihime believed in me because I was her friend, and even though I brought the sword with me, she didn't protest. I killed her because the Wordsmith has been only good at doing one thing:

Taking things away, and it should be simple for him to do, with that shadow creature of his.

In the night, we "planned" the party to happen. It was simple to ask her to make curry for me first, and talk her into it. Then, after grabbing some flowers from the green house, we went down to the ballroom to set them down.

I told her that I was going to kill her. We fought. She was no match for me.

[ And then he'll leave it there, for now. ]

SELECTION.

[wordsmithery]

I think you have all seen enough to make a decision.

Select the title of the Apprentice who took Harmonious' life to save those beyond salvation, so that you may add another to their number and subtract from your own.

Though I do not care to advise your course of action, I would point out the fact that the majority among you is an ever-shrinking number.

ACCOUNTABILITY.

[wordsmithery]

[And as the votes come in, the lights go out, once again casting long, quickly-blackening shadows over the room until the only small sources of light left to pierce the darkness come from behind the buttons on the podiums in front of you; as usual, however, they don't last long before those, too, blink out of existence, plunging the room into a darkness that likely only seems thicker and more oppressive as more of these trials go on.

But the pit will illuminate itself eventually, casting a sharp white light into the room as a whole, so bright it's almost blinding; with the light comes the realization that Mikazuki is no longer among you in the podium circle. There's another realization to be had, however, along with the fact that Mikazuki is gone – that would be the fact that so is the cryobomb made by Silver and Guzma, taken with him down into the pit.

This is only confirmed as that now-familiar soft grinding noise emanates from beneath Podium Eight, and Mikazuki doesn't hesitate in entering the pit from the door that opens there; what he's about to face may be terrible, it may be horrifying and unbearable and hideous, but he remains steadfast and true to the thoughts he'd held before he was sent down here.

He has no fear.

He only just enters, however, he doesn't make his way to the center, as it quickly becomes obvious that he doesn't intend to fight; he meant what he said – he fully intends to take responsibility for what he's done. Properly, and with the calm grace befitting his title. However, he's been granted a gift, an opportunity, and it would be a dishonor, disrespect, to not utilize what he's been given. And that's why, when that familiar darkness begins to appear, he readies the jar he's been given in his hands; as soon as it's close enough – and it's learned to not trust people holding jars, jars lead to interesting reactions in this place and none of them are good – he spikes the container at the thing, hard, aiming for the spot where the tendrils usually start to form, somewhere toward the center of its mass.

The jar breaks, and the reaction spreads quickly.

The outer layer of the entity is quick to harden, a spread of what looks like thick frost streaking along and throughout it, and for a moment it seems almost disoriented; it swirls hard, probably the closest to resembling a pain reaction that's been gained so far, and for a moment Mikazuki looks conflicted – there's no relief in his expression, if anything he's gone strange and blank again, like he's not altogether sure what he should think of what just happened.

And then the darkness draws back before gathering itself up to move back toward him; Mikazuki draws a deep breath before just stepping back and pressing his back against the wall, breathing deeply and trying to regain his composure as he braces for the inevitable.

This, too, seems to give the entity pause.

Mikazuki continues to breathe, deeply and evenly, waiting for an onslaught that doesn't seem to be immediately forthcoming; the pause is long, almost as though the entity is considering something – despite the attack, Mikazuki doesn't seem to have any genuine fight in him, he's simply accepting of whatever comes next, and after a moment one of those dark tendrils reaches out, wrapping around Mikazuki's hand and wrist almost gently before slowly winding its way up his arm.

It finds its way to his shoulder, down his chest; there's nothing violent about it, though it does speed up the process eventually, just for the sake of getting it over with.]

Goodnight, Elegant.

[The Wordsmith's voice can be heard, as inflectionless as ever, before the darkness surges forward; it presses up against Mikazuki's body in one quick go, enveloping him entirely and consuming him whole.

And then the darkness flattens out quickly, pouring back downwards and pooling on the floor; there's a brief pause before the Wordsmith speaks again.]

I suppose you've done well, if you've done anything at all. For now, there's nothing more.