- "Broken Moon; Flowers Worth Saving"
Yuzuki Kurezome is one of the protagonists of NieR Reincarnation's second story arc, The Sun and the Moon, alongside Hina Akagi. He is an ordinary high school student that was suddenly transported into The Cage. He cares deeply for his mother and wishes to reunite with her.
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Heads up! Important plot details for NieR Reincarnation may follow. Read at your own risk! | Route(s) The Sun and the Moon |
It is discovered that Hina is his older sister who went to live with their father after their parents divorced.
Appearance[]
Yuzuki has the appearance of a young man with short brown hair and brown eyes. He wears a standard school uniform with a dark brown jacket, tan belt, and black pants and shoes.
Story[]
- "Guide with the affection of the moon—even if it breaks you."
- — Poem of the Moon
Yuzuki's story is explored throughout The Sun and the Moon arc.
As a high school student, Yuzuki spends most of his time on his own studying in the library. He doesn't interact with others and is deemed a loner by his peers.
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Heads up! Important plot details for NieR Reincarnation may follow. Read at your own risk! | Route(s) The Sun and the Moon |
He often visits his mother in the hospital, who is sick and bedridden due to his father's past abuse. Knowing she has little time left, Yuzuki plans on ending his life—taking drugs to render his body brain dead—leaving his vital organs in tact for his mother to use for a transplant.
Before he is able to commit suicide, Yuzuki receives word that his mother passed suddenly in the hospital. Driven further into despair, Yuzuki vows revenge on his father, and stages the man's suicide in his home. He then discovers that his mother's death was actually a homicide, perpetrated by his estranged older sister—which leads him to The Cage on another quest for retribution.
Throughout The Cage, Yuzuki is tasked with collecting three Luna Fragments to fix a broken moon by strange, ghostlike beings named Mama and Babe. After achieving this, he is granted one wish, and states he wants to save him mom. His wish is granted and they live peacefully for a time, but it is shown that no matter the timeline, Hina will find a way to kill her—causing him to return to The Cage once more.
At the end of their separate journeys, the siblings meet and have a final stand-off at the edge of The Cage. There are three different endings depending on the choice the player makes.
Hina kills Yuzuki and appears to have a mental break as both of their bodies fade into light. Papa regards sadly that Hina got her wish, but notes that something about it doesn't feel right.
This ending causes Yuzuki's default costume to become its Husk version.
Yuzuki kills Hina and appears to have a mental break as both of their bodies fade into light. Mama regards sadly that Yuzuki got his wish, but Babe notes that something about it doesn't feel right.
This ending causes Hina's default costume to become its Husk version.
This option is only available after completing one of the two prior endings and redoing the end of the chapter.
Hina and Yuzuki conclude that there has to be another way to solve their differences. The Cage's sun and moon combine, and the siblings fall to the ground crying together. They realize that they are now destined to live out the rest of their lives in The Cage, which Yuzuki notes is a fitting place for people who have "committed grave sins."
This ending causes both Hina and Yuzuki's default costumes to become their Husk versions.EX Story[]
In a divergent reality, both Yuzuki and Hina exist in the mainline NieR timeline. In 2020, the siblings are rescued as children from a monster (Legion) by the Hamelin Organization in Tokyo.
By 2028, they are both soldiers working for the Hamelin Organization, where Yuzuki in particular is assigned to a platoon of "rejects". They are tasked with locating a researcher who, despite being infected with White Chlorination Syndrome, is still able to retain his sense of self. Narrowly escaping death from a surprise Legion attack, the platoon locates the research facility of their target, disappointed to find his calcified body as well as notes declaring there is no cure for WCS.
The platoon also discovers that they themselves are infected with the disease, and soon succumb one after another after the Hamelin Organization "rescues" them. Yuzuki learns that their initial mission to find the researcher was a lie, and the organization only sent them out to contract WCS and study its progression through experiments.
Angry and disgusted with the organizations actions, an infected Yuzuki transforms into a Red Eye, a Legion who is able to retain its sense of self and control other Legion. He vows revenge on the organization, and begins by slaughtering the commanding officer that caused his platoon to suffer.
Character Story[]
It happened when I started elementary school.
I used to come home crying every day. I was extremely shy, and my classmates saw that weakness and took to bullying me. I'd try to wipe the tears away and put on a brave face, but Mom always knew. She'd ask if something happened, and I would just nod. She never said anything else; she'd just sit there and quietly stroke my hair.
I remember moonlight pouring in through a window. I used to lie in her bed while she sang me a lullaby. I don't remember the words exactly, but it went something like this:
"Though the moon stands alone in the night sky, its gentle light shows the way for everyone else."
Part of my name means "moon"—Mom apparently named me after the lullaby. She wanted me to be the kind of person who helped others.
Even if no one sought me out specifically.
Even if I didn't fit in.
The moment she told me this, I swore to become the moon.
I was shy as ever when I started middle school.
Everyone else could just strike up conversations with perfect strangers, and they all had tons of new friends within the first week. I couldn't begin to fathom how their brains worked. But I was used to being alone.
Around that time, I saw a boy in glasses being bullied in a secluded staircase. The bullying was typical—even cliche. Like something you'd see in a bad movie. The timid boy was surrounded by a group of larger classmates. They were pushing him around. Demanding his money. It was painful to watch.
The boy in glasses eventually pulled out a thousand-yen note from his wallet. But the moment he did, a bucket of water came crashing over the bullies' heads. They were soaked from head to foot.
"We'll get you for this!" they shouted as they ran away.
It was me, of course. I'm the one who threw the water. And then I watched as they scurried up the stairs and escaped to the floor above.
After I helped the boy in glasses escape his tormentors, I was reminded of Mom's lullaby.
Maybe I really could help others.
After that, I made a point of stopping bullying whenever I saw it.
Like that day in science class...
When the classroom skeleton with limbs attached to string suddenly started dancing.
Or the day on the landing...
Where a wave of ping pong balls came clattering down the stairs.
Each time, the bullies ran away howling with their tails between their legs. I loved seeing that; it was such a hilarious contrast to their usual invincible air. But the last time I stood there laughing as the bullies scattered, I heard a voice behind me:
"Was that you?"
It was the boy in glasses. Though I'd helped him from the shadows again and again, that was the first time he'd spoken to me. Unsure what to say in response, I could only bring myself to nod.
That day, the hum of cicadas provided a comforting background noise as the sun set over the school. I stood waiting at the gates. The boy with glasses had asked me to walk home with him. When was the last time I left school with someone else?
Brilliant orange light reflected off the windows of skyscrapers as we made our way home. We walked in perfect silence. Honestly, I had no idea what to say. But though I felt somewhat lost, I also felt a strange sense of comfort.
We passed through the busy part of town and came to an empty street. When we did, the boy with glasses finally spoke:
"Please don't bother me anymore. Things are easier when I'm being bullied. I don't want to be a loner like you."
We parted ways after that, and I took my usual route home. The moon shone lonely against the pitch-black curtain of night.
Can I ever be like the moon, Mom?
I stared at the sky the entire way home. The sharp edges of the beautiful moon blurring beneath my tears.
Other Stories[]
Moonlit Solitude, Part 1[]
Divergent Phenomena: Record 202809
The city is an empty gray expanse.
A uniformed group marches through the rubble-strewn streets—a 20-person platoon dispatched by the organization. One boy—quiet by nature—walks behind the rest. His eyes suddenly drop to his feet, and what he sees there steals his words away.
White powder is strewn over the pavement, blown here and there in the wind. It is salt. But this is no ordinary mineral; this has come from human corpses. White chlorination syndrome. Those afflicted by the disease find their fate in one of two ways.
One: Their bodies turn to salt and they die.
Two: They lose themselves and become monsters called Legion.
The quiet boy makes a sound then: a small yip. In an attempt to avoid the blowing salt, he has lost his footing. But he does not hit the ground. A uniformed girl behind him grabs his arm, effortlessly keeping him upright.
Shocked by her strength, he opens his mouth to thank her. But her mouth widens in a mischievous grin, her crooked teeth on full display.
"You tripped on nothing there, man! Goddamn, you really are the Feeble Kid."
The boy draws a breath to reply, but finds himself too intimidated to speak.
"Cut it out," says another girl as she twirls her red hair with a finger. "Us rejects need to get along."
The girl with crooked teeth turns her savage gaze towards the redhead.
"Who you calling a reject?"
"You. Me. All of us. Haven't you noticed? This platoon is made up of underachievers."
She speaks the truth. The platoon is comprised entirely of rejects. This mission is their last chance to remain with the organization. But the girl with crooked teeth does not accept this.
"I bet the people up top are worried about the reject platoon, so they stuck me here as insurance."
The platoon's mission is to venture into an unexplored area and find a specific individual. Said individual is a researcher. Eyewitnesses claim that though he is afflicted with white chlorination syndrome, he retains his mental faculties. They must find this man. If they do not, the platoon will be out of chances.
"Hey, c'mon," says a small boy with uneasy eyes. "Stop fighting."
This boy knows the girls will argue forever unless he intervenes. His voice is nasally. His eyes twitch. He is the very picture of a coward. The girl bears her crooked teeth at the cowardly boy and hisses, sending him scuttling away.
The quiet boy gives the rowdy trio a sidelong glance. Sighing, he turns his gaze to the sky and examines the gloomy violet cloud that hangs low over the city.
It's coming.
He knows this. He has known it since they first set foot in the city two hours and forty-two minutes ago. Rain is on the way, a torrential downpour with lightning, wind, and fury.
The quiet boy hoped conditions would improve, but it is not to be.
"Guys?" he says. If a storm is incoming, they need to change their route. But no one replies. Instead, they come to a sudden halt and fix their eyes on a spot. Color slowly drains from their faces.
"Legion," whispers a platoon member. Their voice is despair. A skyscraper stands on the edge of collapse, its metal frame bared to the open air. And behind it, Legion. This is the fate of a person who becomes infected with white chlorination syndrome and loses control.
Its outer shell is hardened bone—a cross between an insect and a crustacean. And it is easily over 130 feet tall. Fear and bewilderment race through the platoon; they had no warning so massive an enemy might be waiting for them.
Humans of flesh and blood—and rejects at that—stand no hope against it. It is so unreal, the platoon has trouble accepting it. The Legion slowly turns to look at them. Time is short, now. As a single screaming mass, they turn and run into a nearby ruin of a building.
Behind them, the monster's howl causes their ears to bleed. The building in which they sought shelter shudders, scarcely holding together. The Legion is attempting to smash the building and everyone inside it. The platoon members shudder in terror, their minds threatening to break at any moment. All except the quiet boy. His breaths alone remain measured. Steady. Calm.
He stares out the window and thinks. Beyond the shattered glass, small droplets of rain quickly turn into a torrential downpour. Flashes of lightning illuminate gray clouds, followed by thunder nearly as loud as the Legion's howl.
Suddenly, realization strikes. He knows how they can escape—and more than that, how his platoon of rejects can defeat the Legion outside.
"I have an idea," he says. The cold steel in his voice instantly stills the panic rippling through his fellows.
Prompted by their gazes, he begins to explain. He tells them how they can get out of this despair. About his one-in-a-million bet. The platoon hesitates at first, but they eventually realize it is the only hope they have. At least it's better than waiting for death.
The quiet boy runs up a set of collapsing stairs to the roof and looks down over the city. Positioning himself somewhere with a clear view of the city below, he begins issuing orders that he hopes will get the Legion's attention.
First up is the cowardly boy, who bursts from the building and begins to run. He is the swiftest of their group. He is the lure for the Legion. The bait. His fellows make sure the path is open for him. The girl with crooked teeth uses superhuman strength to remove piles of rubble, creating the shortest route to the target location. The rest of the platoon helps as best they can, clearing a path for the boy as he races past.
The Legion lumbers after him, growing ever closer. But just as it is ready to reach down and rend the cowardly boy in two...
"Hey, dummy! Up here!"
The redheaded girl's voice echoes around the ruined city. From atop a nearby roof, she fires a bullet that knocks the Legion's hand away.
Every member of the platoon knows what they must do, and they give their all to the effort. All is going according to plan. Because the quiet boy understands the strengths of his reject platoon. Finally, coward and monster arrive at a suspension bridge on the verge of collapse. A gaping hole yawns beneath it.
Aging wires extend from worn-out towers, barely holding up the bridge deck as it sways in the storm. The bridge groans as the massive creature steps upon it. A flash of lightning streaks across the sky, covering the empty city in blinding white light. The entire platoon looks up as if in prayer.
A loud rumble rips apart the sky. Lightning has struck the bridge's supporting tower. Wires twist and snap as the deck begins to give way. The cowardly boy dashes across the undulating surface and leaps to safety. But the Legion is not so coordinated, and it stumbles to the side.
As it does, the bridge finally gives way, plunging stone and wire and beast down into the abyss. It wails as it falls, giving voice to madness. Though it is unlikely to be dead, the Legion will not be crawling up anytime soon. The platoon rejoices at the quiet boy's brilliance.
He knew lightning always strikes the highest point. So he had them lead the Legion to the bridge in the hopes a bolt might strike one of the towers. It was not so much a strategy as a last gasp—yet when he proposed the idea, everyone trusted him completely. There are no casualties. The reject platoon lives on. And in that moment, they all begin to praise their newfound savior.
Moonlit Solitude, Part 2[]
A platoon of rejects has been given a mission.
They are to find a researcher who is afflicted with white chlorination syndrome, yet retains his faculties. On the way, an unexpected enemy appeared: a monster known as Legion. But they worked together to overcome the threat.
...Or so they thought.
"Come in! I repeat, come in. Do you copy? Over!"
The quiet boy stands atop a skyscraper. He speaks into his wireless communication device and attempts to issue orders. Yet the only responses he receives are the death throes of his platoonmates. They are the last thing he hears before communications cut off entirely. They avoided one Legion threat, but a total of six were lurking in the area.
The quiet boy has strategic prowess. His companions have hidden powers. Yet a mere twenty of them cannot hope to take out multiple Legion. They requested backup from the organization, but none is coming. They are cornered now. Trapped. Doomed to annihilation.
He hears his companions screaming for help before Legion howls drown them out. Unsure what to do, the boy stands frozen. He prays this hell might pass him by.
A sudden quiet descends like a hammer. The rampaging Legion go silent. Then they whirl about as one and begin marching away. They retreat before cornered prey. The boy does not know what is happening. Regardless, it is a miracle. His prayer has been answered.
His surviving platoonmates slowly make their way to him. They cradle bloody corpses in their arms: remnants of their fellows. Thirteen corpses lay on the floor of a ruined building—including that of the cowardly boy. He was quick, and agreed to act as bait. But he was not fast enough to escape the other Legion, and when they caught him, they tore him limb from limb.
"This is all your fault!" cries the girl with crooked teeth as she grabs the quiet boy by the collar. Her bloodied face twists into a scowl of rage.
"I knew we never should've followed the Feeble Kid."
The Feeble Kid. The organization's commanding officers use this insult whenever they want to ridicule the boy. And he can never argue with it.
"Enough," says the redheaded girl. "The Legion retreated. We've got a chance."
The other girl snarls in response.
"You know they only retreated because they were responding to something, right?"
The girl with crooked teeth's lips tremble in fear.
"This means there might be a Red Eye nearby."
Red Eye.
The nickname for intelligent Legion—those whose eyes glow red. They have the ability to control other, mindless Legion, which makes them infinitely more terrifying. The thought that a Red Eye might be in the area makes the quiet boy drop his gaze.
When he does, his vision alights on the arm of the girl with crooked teeth. He sees white skin in the tears of her sleeve. White. Like salt.
"Your arm..."
At his words, she looks down at her arm and gasps.
Those affected by white chlorination syndrome meet one of two ends: They either turn to salt and die, or become Legion. Her face twists in despair as she realizes the future that awaits her.
And she is not alone. Of the seven survivors, three are infected. Legion. Red Eye. White chlorination syndrome. The platoon has been plunged into the depths of despair. But there is one hope.
If they can find the researcher who has white chlorination syndrome and yet retains his intelligence...
Then maybe, just maybe, they can be saved.
"We keep going," says the quiet boy. "Now let's move."
Moonlit Solitude, Part 3[]
A platoon of twenty has become seven after a battle with the Legion.
And three of those are infected with white chlorination syndrome. Those afflicted by the disease find their fate in one of two ways: They either turn to salt and die, or become monsters called Legion. Yet the platoon has not surrendered hope.
The organization has given them a mission. They are to find a researcher who is afflicted with white chlorination syndrome, yet retains his sense of self. If they can do this, they may learn of a way to best the disease. They believe because they must.
Twilight. Boots clack over a cold floor. The smell of chemicals moves through the boy's nose. The platoon slowly picks their way through a research facility. The researcher should be here somewhere.
They were lucky not to encounter more Legion on the way here, or the Red Eye that controls them. But as they venture through the facility, disappointment colors their faces.
The corridor is quiet as the dead. Clumps of salt lie scattered at their feet. The girl with crooked teeth walks beside the boy. Though her expression remains haughty, her hands, white with disease, quiver slightly. The redheaded girl speaks to her kindly.
"It's okay. It's going to be okay. We just have to find the researcher."
After wandering the halls of the silent facility, they find the researcher's name tag. It rests atop a pile of salt in the shape of a human. The boy turns away from his despairing companions and reaches for a sheaf of research documents next to the pile. He flips through the pages and finds accounts of white chlorination syndrome. There is no going back. No cure. Once a person contracts the disease, there is no way to recover.
With that, their last thread of hope goes taut and snaps. A researcher who retains his wits despite the disease? It is nonsense. Madness. All the boy can do is chuckle.
The Legion. White chlorination syndrome. After battling for so long against despair, this is what greets them. He crumples the documents in his fist and begins to roar with laughter. A fist of white.
There are seven survivors. All of whom are now infected. Their bodies no longer obey. All they can do is huddle together in the darkness. The backup they requested is nowhere to be found. They cannot proceed, and they cannot go back.
"Hey," says a small voice, breaking the silence. It is the girl with crooked teeth.
"Sorry for calling you Feeble Kid."
Her apology delivered, she slowly begins to tell about herself. As if she is looking back on her life in the face of oblivion.
She wanted to do more for the organization. But she didn't get along with the brass, and before she knew it, she was labeled a reject...
"Sounds familiar," chuckles the redhead. Nods move around the room; all of them are a slightly different version of the same story.
At first, they all dreamed of being outstanding members of the organization. But once they were labeled as rejects, loneliness crushed whatever hopes they once had. Yet as they sit in this place and slowly turn to salt, they find themselves filled with a shared happiness. If this is to be their end, at least they are able to share it together.
"What about you?" asks the girl with crooked teeth. "What did you dream of?"
She turns to the quiet boy, who thinks carefully for a moment.
Then he answers.
"I wanted to be a person worthy of my older sister."
Beyond the window, the large moon hanging in the night sky casts a faint rainbow across the clouds. The boy's calcified hand catches the light and shimmers like a crystal. Looking over the room, he sees the same pale glow surrounding each of his new friends.
There are worse ways to go than this, he thinks as he lets his eyes slip closed.
Morning comes. He wakes to a scream. The girl with crooked teeth is no longer smiling. Instead, she has torn the throat out of one of their companions. Madness has taken her. She will become Legion. The redheaded girl turns her gun on the thing that was once her friend. But she cannot pull the trigger.
The quiet boy bites his lip and shuts down his own emotions. He snatches the gun away and shoots the maddened girl through the head. Five now remain, including himself. They all thought they would sit in that place and wait for death.
But as that shot rings out, something happens. The organization's reinforcement helicopter finally arrives, the rumble of its landing shaking the facility. A voice comes from static.
"Do we have any survivors here? Please respond."
The boy replies in a quiet voice, gazing at the corpses of his comrades as he does.
Five living. And with nothing to show for it. They are taken into organizational custody, leaving the salt-drenched facility behind. And though they have lost much, despair has been held at bay for the moment.
Moonlit Solitude, Part 4[]
They are a small platoon of rejects sent into battle by the organization.
Though white chlorination syndrome encroaches on their bodies, they have returned home from a Legion-filled hell. Despite paying a heavy price, they have obtained a key piece of information: The researcher who was said to retain his intelligence while living with the disease does not exist. Once it is contracted, there is no way back.
In a deep recess of the organization's base, the boy lies on the floor of a cage. His skin is white. Frozen. He can no longer move. The disease has almost reached its end.
How did things end up like this?
After risking their lives for the mission, all that awaited them were endless tests in a cramped and filthy cage. Dimly, the boy hears a woman scream. He slowly turns his gaze outward. A four-limbed monster thrashes wildly.
She used to be a girl. A girl with red hair.
How did this happen?
He hears more sounds. A door opening. Boots on cold tile. The boy's commanding officer and subordinates have entered the room. He stares at the monster as it thrashes.
"This experiment is a failure," he murmurs. "Kill it."
There is a gunshot. And another. And another. Each time, the monster's screams shake the darkened room. By the time it falls silent, the boy's vision is bathed in red. Words of animosity choke from his whitened throat.
"I hate you..."
Their mission had been a lie.
The researcher had been a lie. The mission's true objective was to send the platoon into unexplored areas to see if they would catch white chlorination syndrome. At which point, the organization could observe its progress.
The redheaded girl had figured it out some time ago. After being taken off to one room or another, she'd gotten a look at some files. The night she told him, a large moon had hung in the sky—just like the one he'd seen above the research facility. She quietly tapped on the ground as she spoke.
"We're experiments. That's it. That's all."
The boy did not believe her at first. But now he understands. They were just cogs in a great wheel of deception.
"I have to thank you," says the commanding officer. He stares down at the boy with cold eyes.
He goes on to explain that the appearance of the Legion had been a surprise. They thought the platoon would be wiped out, but when the boy saved them, the mission—the experiment—was able to continue.
"Sadly," concludes the officer, "we have fewer samples than initially estimated."
The boy does not know how long he has been here. As his body weakens, his hatred grows. It is an angry emotion. Red.
"We just wanted...to do our best..."
The officer tilts his head at the words.
"What are you talking about, Feeble Kid? You did do your best. These experiments will serve our better personnel quite well indeed."
The smiles of his companions flash through the boy's mind. They all dreamed of helping the organization. But now those dreams have been scattered to the winds. In that moment, something snaps deep inside the boy.
The light in the room turns red. Sirens begin to wail, signaling a Legion attack. Screams echo throughout the base, followed by the wet sound of rotten fruit thrown against a wall. The commander and his men are baffled—and afraid. Things are moving far too fast for them to control. Suddenly, the door is torn from its hinges.
White aberrations—Legion—tear chunks from fleeing researchers. Meat slips from bone like a glove leaving a hand. Blood. Slaughter. Death. A feeling settles in the boy's chest as he watches from his cage. It is not fear. Nor is it despair.
"Heh... Ha ha ha..."
His small, dry laugh slowly grows louder. He guffaws madly as he writhes on the floor, laughing and laughing until he is covered in blood and vomit and bile. The feeling...is delight. These people had ridiculed him and his comrades. Called them rejects. Toyed with their lives. And now the bill has come due.
At last, the Legion stands before the boy. Its aberrant hands tear open the cage with ease. But he is not afraid. Instead, he closes his eyes and patiently waits. And waits. And waits.
But the end does not come. Instead, the Legion kneel before him and bow their heads. Bowing before his bright red eyes.
Kill them. Kill the enemies of our Gods. Kill them all.
Voiceless thoughts fill his head. When he hears this, he finally understands what he has become.
Red Eye.
A being who exists to control the Legion and end humanity. It is his presence that brought the Legion here. The boy—the Red Eye—slowly gets to his feet. The commanding officer huddles in the corner. He slowly strides over to him.
"Please!" cries the man. "No!"
He looks at the boy and the Legion behind him as he begs for his life. The man will do anything to live, including flattering the enemy of all humanity.
"I always knew you were special! I knew it! And you could use that power for the organization! You're nothing like those rejects! Nothing!"
His platoonmates—his friends—were all dead. Yet even now, this man cannot help but trample upon their memories.
"This would have never happened if you didn't send us into that godforsaken place."
The Legion rips the officer to shreds. The boy grinds chunks of meat beneath his heel as he strides out into the corridor.
Legion perch atop unidentifiable corpses, bowing to the boy as he passes. He takes them into his procession with a smile. When they find a living member of the organization, he kills them. It is revenge. Revenge for himself and his companions. Revenge for being named rejects. Revenge for being discarded.
At last, silence descends over the base. There is no one left to slight the boy; this place belongs to the Legion now.
The boy approaches a bowing Legion and gently runs his hand over its body. His crimson eyes turn to the window. The brilliant moon hangs in the clear night sky. Shining over the bloody fortress as though in celebration.
Ch. 1: Guide to the Unusual[]
I quite enjoy the library.
I don't have to worry about what other people say or how they look at me—I can devote myself wholly to the quiet hours.
As usual, I get to school before the start of class and study here.
It's anything but a usual day, however. Today's the culture festival, and excitement is buzzing throughout the entire school.
A huge sign stands outside the school gates welcoming visitors from outside, and dozens of colorful stalls line the campus on the other side. My class's stall is presumably among them, but I don't drop by to check on it. I study in the library instead.
The familiar classmates I pass don't say anything. I know they don't expect any sort of help from me.
It's only been a few months since I started high school, and I'm out of place in my class.
I have my aspirations, and dealing with others is too much of a bother. I don't have time to sing praises of my school life like other students, nor do I want to.
The bang, bang! of blank shots reaches the library.
And here I thought I could concentrate on my studies during the culture festival... My concentration broken, I stare out at the blue sky beyond the windows.
"Seriously? This is where you've been?" It's a sudden, blunt voice that hardly suits the air of this place.
Oh no—she found me.
The voice belongs to a girl in my grade who's a bit out of place for a prep school like this—she has bright blonde hair and never wears her uniform properly.
She always behaves terribly, and everyone else thinks of her as a delinquent.
She stands out for different reasons in class, and for whatever reason, she occasionally pokes her nose into my business.
She has the audacity to sit across from me, cackles, and says thoughtlessly, "It's so funny you're studying today, of all days."
In a wordless display to show how busy I am, I drop my eyes back to my books and ignore her.
But that is never enough to discourage the blonde girl, and I always lose out in the end. Unfortunately, today is no exception.
I ask her what she wants, and she says, "Since you clearly have nothing better to do, we should go check out the festival together."
What? She wants to go? With me?
Her usual stubbornness rears its ugly head. Eventually, she grabs my phone from the table and yells, "Follow me if you want it back!" She races out of the library.
Now that things have gotten this far, calming her down would be way more trouble than it's worth...
And so I agree to look around with her, on the condition that it's for "a little bit." It is a calculated move, knowing I'll be freed more quickly that way.
I avoided the blonde girl at first. Her loud appearance and flippant personality were alien to me.
But in these few months since starting school, she has been the only one who has talked to me with any regularity despite my cold exterior.
And the more I get to know about her family life and inner world from our occasional conversations, the more I see her in a different light.
She's loud, quite a handful, and, to be blunt, a constant interruption to my studies. But I can't bring myself to dislike her...
I walk along the school halls, brightly decorated with balloons, paper decorations, and painted signs, with the excited blonde girl.
Now that I get a better look at the school, I realize the whole building has a particular air—families with cotton candy wander around, and performers in costumes strut through the halls. While preparing for the festival, I avoided all work besides the bare minimum assigned to me, so I'm surprised to see it so thoroughly decorated in such a short period.
She scarcely pays me any mind as she pulls me by the arm and drags me into a classroom with a sign written over it reading "SHOOTING GALLERY."
Excitable students greet us like eager employees at a store and hand us "handguns" made of disposable chopsticks.
I stand bewildered, and they say we can pay one hundred yen for five shots as they hand us a rubber band.
While I slowly set the rubber band in place, I hear the clanging of a bell. I turn to my side to see the girl standing victorious. She scoops up the small stuffed rabbit she managed to shoot down, sets her next band, and aims at her next target.
Undaunted, I also aim at the target... But embarrassingly, the band flies into next week.
I have one shot left. I aim carefully, determined to make this shot count. I notice the girl looking at me as she puts her prizes into a bag.
I know she's making fun of me internally.
But when she grasps my situation, she gives me surprisingly succinct advice. She does so gently, politely, in a way that doesn't harm my masculine pride. And it...somehow reminds me of someone I know.
Perhaps my blonde classmate is the older sister of a much younger sibling. That would explain her sisterly care.
Taking her advice, I hold up my chopstick gun one more time. The moment of truth... But things are often easier said than done. My rubber band skims the side of a box of sweets, and that's that.
"Close!" she says with a grin, then tosses me a box of caramel candy from her bag. By the time I catch it, she's already moving on to the next classroom.
"C'mon!"
Her voice is comfortable and familiar, as though we've been friends for a long time. And afterward, we go around to each classroom together.
I win the quiz competition, we split the takoyaki she craved, and each time, she smiles kindly at me.
Though pangs of guilt stir in my chest from neglecting my studies, it wasn't half as bad a time as I imagined.
Once we had seen the majority of the displays and stalls, the sun was beginning to set. I tell my blonde classmate that I will be returning to the library shortly.
She then tells me she wants to see the grand finale of the culture festival: the fireworks display.
It's said that this school has fireworks every year. She is more excited about this than I anticipated, taking me to an empty classroom with a perfect view of the fireworks.
The moment we get to the classroom, she runs to the restroom. She'd been having so much fun that she kept missing her chance to go—I can't help but chuckle.
Though I agreed to accompany her for only a little bit, when I look at the clock on the classroom wall, I see how late it's gotten...
I don't handle noise well, not to mention letting others mind me, but...today was hardly a bad day.
Just after she rushes back from the restroom, what follows is a brilliant display in the sky that never lets things go completely dark.
Several modest fireworks burst in the sky. Though we are somewhat disappointed, it's the perfect cherry on top for the first day of the cultural festival.
"Hey, sorry for bothering you while you were studying," she says quietly.
But I respond with a whisper of my own, "I mean, it wasn't so bad in the end..."
As we share our thoughts on the festival, watching the other students clean the grounds, a sudden announcement comes over the intercom.
It's specifically calling for our class to gather in the classroom.
"I guess we should go..." We can't ignore this one, so we leave the empty classroom behind.
Feeling awkward that I avoided helping set up in the morning, I enter the classroom and join my classmates, wearing their matching class T-shirts and bracelets.
Some students look anxious, while others hang their heads in what looks like anger—quite the contrast to their colorful clothing. And yet, our homeroom teacher starts off in a calm tone.
"We're missing a part of the sales from our crepe stall."
At that moment, whispers ripple through the classroom. The teacher calms the class and begins to explain what happened.
Our class was situated outside, running a crepe stand. As a way to prevent others from stealing the money, any money collected from sales would be brought to the safe in the classroom at specific times.
Part of that money vanished while it was being moved from the stand to the classroom...
Though our teacher did not explicitly say it was stolen, the implication was that someone took the money.
"No way... Who could've done this?"
"We worked so hard to make that money..."
"It's gotta be someone else from another class..."
As the entire class reels from the revelation, I cannot help but voice the words bouncing around in my head.
"The culprit is in this class..."
And the next thing I know, everyone is looking at me.
Ch. 2: Who Ruined the Culture Festival[]
The first day of my high school culture festival came to a close.
The entire class gathers in our classroom, and our homeroom teacher informs us that part of the proceeds from our stall has vanished.
When I hear the details, I’m convinced it is theft and that someone in this class committed it...
“The culprit is in this class...”
The words spill out of my mouth before I realize it, bringing suspicion and panic to my classmates. My teacher desperately tries to calm the reeling class.
The teacher then asks me, his tone agitated for reasons I don’t understand, “Do you have proof?”
I begin to sort out the situation in my mind as I answer.
First, my class was running a crepe stall. And twice in the day at specific times—once around noon and once around sunset—a specific student was supposed to bring it to the classroom safe for safekeeping.
According to the teacher, the money was collected and vanished on the way to the classroom.
The details of how and when the money would be collected were posted in the class group chat that morning. Only those in the class know about the money.
There’s a chance that someone outside of the class caught wind of the information somewhere during the festival, but it’s unlikely they would ever have the chance to plot the theft.
“So you’re saying we stole it?”
One of the two students in charge of safekeeping the sales shouts.
“That’s not what I’m saying. If anything, you are immediately exempt from suspicion.” Their face is red from the tension, but I ignore them and continue to think. “At which collection phase did the proceeds go missing, anyway?”
“The second phase. Isn’t that right?” the teacher turns to the student who was at the stall at the time of the second collection.
According to the student’s testimony, someone dressed in a bunny costume came at the evening collection time, and she mistook them for the student in charge of the collection.
Feeling partially responsible for the incident, the student wears a glum look but makes an addendum as she recalls the situation.
Despite her suspicion when she saw the costume, this person was holding their class-specific collections box, so she ultimately concluded that they were the classmate in charge of collecting the money.
Once the person in the costume left, the real student in charge of the money came, and chaos befell the stall.
When the teacher went to check on the money in the classroom safe, he found only the proceeds from noon, and though they split up to look for the missing money, they have yet to find it...
I knew it, I think to myself. The culprit was well-informed about how the money was handled.
My classmates begin to stir again, each of them hoping to escape suspicion.
Among the chatter, my ears pick up on someone saying, “...is suspicious.”
“Yeah, I heard she has sticky fingers...”
She is the blonde girl I walked around the culture festival with, the one the whole rest of the class treats like a criminal.
And the moment that whisper reaches the ears of others, the entire classroom tacitly comes together.
They want to frame the ill-mannered blonde girl as the culprit.
At this point, the entire class begins to cross-examine her to make her the scapegoat.
“We bonded to make this culture festival a reality. The only one who could do something so awful is someone who doesn’t help!”
“I heard she stole money from her job too. Once a thief, always a thief!”
“She never came to run the stall—she was too busy plotting her crime all day!”
It’s all illogical nonsense, spoken from a place of self-preservation.
I point out the fallacies with each of their testimonies and prove her innocence.
It is clear that the reason they all doubt her comes from a place of prejudice due to how she dresses and looks, as well as the flippancy of her words and actions.
And just as I begin to tire of the futile arguments, I present to them a perfect alibi.
According to the testimony of the students in charge of the money, the crime took place shortly before five o’clock. She and I had gone to the empty classroom to watch the fireworks about thirty minutes later.
That means that when the proceeds were stolen, she and I were still in the middle of looking around the festival. Some try to argue that we are co-conspirators, but the students whose booths we visited would be able to provide testimony
“You mean to tell me that she’s the culprit, but I believe someone else fits the bill much more neatly.”
My coup de grace of a statement causes everyone in class to fall silent—they have nothing to say in return.
A light clap breaks the silence, one that hardly fits the gravity of the situation. In concert, the teacher showers me with praise.
“Wow, I’m impressed! You’re just like a detective in a mystery novel!”
Our teacher often spoke about mystery novels with fervor, even during class, and the students consider him quite eccentric.
Everyone’s eyes go wide. For a moment, I don’t understand what he means.
The teacher, who has been watching silently this whole time, speaks as though he is urging us to go home. He says he will be looking after the classroom safe tomorrow, so we can rest easy and enjoy day two of the festival as we please.
He then turns to me and the blonde girl and says, with a twinkle in his eye, “If you’re the detective in this whodunit, then that would make her your sidekick.”
“Solve the mystery of who stole our proceeds together.” That is the task the teacher has entrusted to us.
We have a time limit: by the end of school the following day—by the time the second and final day of the culture festival is over.
“Cooperation, everyone!”
The first day of the culture festival comes to a strange end, thanks to our mystery-loving homeroom teacher.
As the other students make their way home, they regard me suspiciously or with glares.
What a fine mess this whole thing is. All I wanted to do was study...
The blonde girl and I are the only ones left in the classroom. We exchange wordless stares.
Still...I haven’t had a day like this in some time—a day where everyone is frightfully aware of my existence...
Ch. 3: Inconvenient Glint[]
Day two of the high school culture festival.
Purely by chance, I happened to get wrapped up in the search for the culprit who committed theft in my class.
Just as the first day was about to come to an end, someone stole the proceeds from our class stall.
The girl I had gone around the festival with was named as a potential suspect.
Why? Elementary.
She dyed her hair blonde, and she wore loud, gaudy clothing. She was poorly behaved in our typical day-to-day at school. That was all the reason her accusers needed.
The entire class was determined to peg her as the criminal baselessly, but I refuted their misplaced statements.
Our homeroom teacher cheered me on, insisting I was like the detective in a mystery novel. He instructed me to search for the true culprit by the end of the second day, with the girl as my assistant.
And so, my blonde sidekick and I walk the school grounds together.
I glance aside to see her with candy in her mouth, listlessly looking around the area.
In a way, I understand. The way our classmates focused fire on her yesterday must have stung pretty badly.
"First, we should retrace the Bunny Costume's steps..."
"Bunny Costume" is my nickname for the culprit who stole the money during collection time. They appeared shortly before the class's agreed collection time, took all the money in the specific box meant for collection, and then vanished.
If we can get a general grasp of their actions, we might be able to find some sort of lead. First, we will have to question our classmates.
Talking to classmates I barely spoke to in the first place is, quite honestly, a huge challenge.
Some of them are clearly wary of the girl beside me.
But whenever I'm unsure of how to talk to them, the blonde girl always supports me or speaks in my stead.
Many misunderstand her due to her looks or the way she talks and acts, but she is caring and quite skilled at helping others in a casual manner.
Whenever I look at her, I can't help but be reminded of someone...
If I recall correctly, she only has one parent and younger siblings. I suppose that would explain her sisterly demeanor.
As those thoughts roll around in my mind, she suddenly speaks to me. "Hey...thanks," she says.
I turn around, and she continues to speak. She says that when everyone suspected her yesterday, she was afraid they would start suspecting me too.
But she was delighted that I came to her defense instead of suspecting her.
"All I did was say what I thought was right."
"And that made me happy."
She thanks me again. I can't see the look on her face very well.
Nobody in our class who was working at the stall the day prior seems to know where the bunny came from or where it vanished to.
Even as the sun sets, we have no leads. So, with the girl in tow, I widen our scope and begin to question the classes with stalls near ours.
It's here that I hear something strange.
"That was right before the fireworks rehearsal, right? Everyone was busy breaking down their stalls, so no one would have noticed then."
Rehearsal?
I repeat this word, and the student I'm talking to points to the poster plastered on the nearby wall.
"Today's the real show. The rehearsal was yesterday. Pretty sweet for a trial run, though, wasn't it?"
The poster details the time and date of the fireworks show. It's tonight...and starts later than the one the day before.
Standing still in front of the poster, the blonde girl approaches me from behind.
"Oh, huh. The fireworks are today!"
Her tone is unnaturally bright.
Yesterday, she had dragged me to the empty classroom, stressing how desperate she was to see beautiful fireworks.
If the rehearsal was yesterday and today is the real show, then that makes her actions a bit odd.
"Hey, we should see the fireworks again as a do-over!"
I can sense the trouble in her voice, and it's clear that her smile is forced. I almost want to refuse the conclusion I come to in my head.
But...I cannot do that.
"All right..."
I fall in step behind her as she walks lightly, almost delighted, just as I did the day before. My own steps are heavy, and our attitudes could hardly be any more different.
Funnily enough, we arrive at the classroom at around the same time we did yesterday.
But unlike yesterday, the cheers coming from outside feel empty, and the ticking of the clock echoes loudly in my ears.
I'm the first to break the silence.
"I solved the mystery," I say, but the girl does not turn to look at me. Her gaze remains fixed outside. And so, I continue, "You used me for an alibi. You are the culprit."
After a lengthy silence, the blonde girl finally replies.
"...Do you have proof?"
I have no way of knowing what she's thinking. I take out my phone, and with an exhausted voice, I reply.
"The clock in this classroom is thirty minutes fast. It's not something one is likely to notice if they're not paying attention. I was surprised. That's why you took my phone, isn't it?"
The girl turns to look at me. And though there is spite in her eyes, she has a smile on her face.
The moment she brought me to this classroom—or, to be more precise, the moment I had been chosen to look for the culprit—she had been ready for this.
"Hold on a sec," she says and leaves the classroom.
I do not give chase.
For some reason, I can't imagine her running away. And just as I suspect, she comes back.
In her hands, she holds the box for collecting the class proceeds.
In the box is an envelope with bills and coins.
"You're right. I stole it. I hid the money and the costume in another empty classroom."
Here's how she committed the crime.
First, she invited me to the festival so she could have someone to affirm her alibi. She then took my phone so I wouldn't know the time.
Then, she took me to an empty classroom with a clock thirty minutes fast so she could leave me and commit the crime. She told me she was going to the restroom and instead stole the collected money.
Afterward, she went to a different empty classroom to hide the costume and the money, then returned to me as though nothing had happened, and then we watched the fireworks rehearsal together.
She put her plan together in the morning when the collection information came through to the class chat, and then she actually went through with it. And that shocked me.
Her grades are poor because she doesn't come to class, and the class treats her like a nuisance. But deep down...she isn't like that. A strange thought comes to me—if she were under pressure, would that explain her actions?
Whatever the case, I'm gravely disappointed because I had such a pleasant time with her yesterday.
Something else strikes me as strange.
The class proceeds aren't much, in truth. And the portion she stole was only half a day's worth. No matter how I think about it, it doesn't seem worth the effort to me.
She understands my intentions from my gaze. Her expression twists.
"I didn't have a choice..." she murmurs weakly.
The first burst of the fireworks illuminates her face.
A streak of tears runs down her cheek.
Ch. 4: Return to Reality[]
From the dim, empty classroom, I watch the first firework of the show bloom brilliantly in the sky.
I glance at my phone—it started at the time mentioned on the flier. But according to the clock in the classroom, it's beginning thirty minutes late.
With surprising—and disappointing—ease, the blonde girl confesses that she was the one who stole the money from our class stall.
And...
"I didn't know what else to do... We're broke. We never have enough money."
They're always a few hundred yen short of replacing her little brother's tattered shoes... They can barely afford to pay to send him on field trips... She is keenly, agonizingly aware of how the other kids perceive her little sister when she goes to her sports festival...
"That's why I cut down on school hours and worked instead. But they said the money in the register didn't match up with the records, so they blamed me, and guess who got fired?"
She didn't want to dress in a way that showed she was poor, so she dressed herself up like any other girl her age, within the means she had. But her cheap accessories often came off as gaudy and vulgar.
Never did I think things would lead to this, though.
Not only that, but the small expenses of day-to-day life were mercilessly pushing her family further into a corner.
"If it were just me and my dad, that would be one thing. But my little brother and sister... And people still suspect me even if I'm not doing anything."
I have no words. Though I had an inkling of what was going on at home, I had no idea things were this desperate for her.
"What...should I have done?"
This girl sacrifices pieces of herself and even steals for her little siblings. A painful weight settles on me when I think of my own self-sacrificing older sister.
The fireworks glow brightly over her pain. I look her straight in the eye.
"Let's go to the teacher."
We will be honest, and we will apologize to our classmates. She may have to explain her situation to them if it comes to it. But this is something we must do.
"I'll...do what I can to help you with money," I say.
She looks at me with surprise but tears well in her eyes as a smile crosses her face, and she nods.
Together, we make our way to the staff room and to our homeroom teacher, lover of whodunits, the eccentric who made me the detective in this case.
When we return the money and tell him what happened, the blonde girl offers a tearful apology. But...
"What a remarkable trick, though... If this were a mystery novel, you'd be like a real detective!" he says cheerfully as he counts the money and ensures that it matches the records.
He doesn't seem like he's scolding her, nor does he ask why she did it.
"So you stole on a whim, and you just happened to succeed. Don't do it again, got it?"
"Er, not exactly. She planned it because of what's going on at—"
I begin babbling in a panic, but the teacher raises a finger, signaling me to be quiet.
"Listen. The collection plan was posted to the chat that morning. There's no way you could have carried out something so elaborate the same day." He then shakes his head. "This is a prep school. If word about this became public, it would be a disgrace. You confessed, so we're going to keep this just between us, okay?"
He smiles. On his desk is a small stack of famous mystery novels.
I glance aside. The blonde girl, her gaze cast downward, says quietly, "Okay."
"Didn't you want everyone to know the truth, though?" I ask. "Isn't that why you made me investigate?"
My voice cracks, and my fists quiver. I can't immediately identify the emotion that wells in me.
"Maybe in the world of stories, sure. But reality isn't so cut and dry. I think you'll understand that as you grow up..."
I can no longer stand it. I turn my back on my teacher and do not hear the rest of what he has to say.
On the way back to the classroom, I hear the cheerful sounds of the other students wrapping up the cultural festival.
Yet the blonde girl, her head still drooped, murmurs quietly.
"I don't really matter, do I? Even if I don't do something, people accuse me. And if I do something, it's treated like nothing ever happened... It's like I'm just a convenient excuse."
Self-deprecation sits heavily in her voice.
I want to say something, but in the end, I could not.
Once the culture festival comes to an end, the colorful decorations are taken down, and we return to our regular school life.
I come to school a little earlier in the morning than the other students and study in the library. After school, I leaf through reference documents in the library until it's time for me to go to work.
I never spoke to her again.
A Candid Chat[]
Mama: Yuzuki seems aloof and hard to approach at first, but he's such a good boy deep down!
Mama: You have no idea how happy I was when he looked for me after I got lost in The Cage!
Babe: The kid's surprisingly clingy. Did you see how relieved he looked when he found you?
Mama: Hee hee! Oh, and do you remember what he said? "What good is a guide that keeps getting lost?" Remember!?
Babe: That imitation was perfect, Mumsie. Even better than the real thing.
Yuzuki: Hey, uh... What are you talking about?
Mama: Oh, we were just discussing the things we love about our little Yu!
Yuzuki: Well, please stop with the—
Mama: Oh, I know! Now it's YOUR turn to say what you like about the two of US! Doesn't that sound nice?
Yuzuki: Um... Well, I guess I... Whnn... Whnnnnn...
Mama: Um, Yu? Are you trying to get out of this assignment by whistling?
Babe: Bwaaa ha ha! The kid can't whistle!
Yuzuki: No! I just...made a mistake. That's all.
Stage of Dreams[]
Gloaming turns to night, settling over the room like a shroud. The only sound is the steady ticking of a clock. The boy, exhausted from work and study, throws himself onto his bed. He lies there, staring listlessly at the ceiling, and lets his imagination wander.
The ceiling quickly becomes a night sky aglow with stars. He draws lines and creates various constellations: A book. A camera. A violet. The boy creates these things from the imaginary points of light on his ceiling, filling his mind with as much joy as he can before sleep comes to claim him.
He's alone again today.
An unpleasant noise echoes in the back of his mind: words that were spoken about him at school. As he remembers them, the constellations on the ceiling shudder and wink out.
His manager yelling at him. University students laughing as he bumped into them on the street. Every time a memory of the day replays in his mind, another imaginary star is snuffed out. Soon, all that remains is a ceiling of perfect black. The boy covers his ears and squeezes his eyes shut, ready to escape into sleep—his single reprieve from reality.
Museum of Bonds[]
The young boy went to the museum with his mother and sister.
They saw a model of the solar system's planets hung from the ceiling and an exhibit with dinosaur fossils on display—the boy was fascinated. He wanted to show off everything he'd learned from his encyclopedia, so he began to explain what he saw. As he watched his mother nod with a smile, he beamed and only grew more enthusiastic.
"I beg your pardon, but please keep your voice down..." The sudden voice belonged to a museum employee. The warning startled and embarrassed the boy, who looked upon the rest of the displays in complete silence. His brief joy felt like fragments of a distant dream, now replaced with cold darkness.
Evening fell, and after a brief visit to the gift shop, they headed home. That's when the sad boy's sister handed him a keychain of his favorite planet, Pluto—he just liked how the name sounded. "We'll come back sometime," she said, her smile like the sun's rays, warming his heart and reaching the very edges of the solar system.
Pair of Self-Reproach[]
When the boy was in middle school, his family started slowly falling apart. His mother took on loads of debt, and his father became more violent in actions and speech regarding the prospect of repayment.
As the cracks in their family grew, it was the boy's sister alone who didn't give up and kept on smiling. "I bet she could put our family back together," he thought, using his respect as a shield from the painful reality.
One day, the boy arrived home straight from school and heard a voice coming from the bathroom. The rest of the family should have been at work or school clubs. He peeked through the crack in the door to find his sister sobbing, doing her absolute best to do so in silence. Gripped in her hand was a brush with a shocking amount of her hair caught in the bristles. In the sink, too, was a mat of her hair.
The boy felt a sharp twist in his chest, and he couldn't breathe. His sister alone was shouldering the pressure of keeping their family together. The boy cursed his cowardice for looking away from this reality as he locked himself in his room, blaming himself for this for the nights to come. He could not let his sister shoulder this burden alone. He would never admit weakness in her presence again.
Harmonies of Surrender[]
When the boy was very young, he and his family went to stay with his maternal grandparents over summer vacation. They lived in a big house in an affluent neighborhood outside the city. Sitting in the large living room was a beautiful grand piano, the kind he might find in his school’s music room.
The boy’s older sister greeted it like an old friend and cast aside the red felt covering the keys. Her pale, slender fingers glided over the keys in a choreographed dance. Their mother sat beside her and joined her, and together, they played a light tune.
Drawn in by the lovely melody, their grandparents came to listen. The sunlight pouring in from the living room window shone over them like a spotlight on a stage.
My sister and mom are an awful lot alike, the boy thought. Their smiles and voices always cast such a beautiful light on everything around them. In contrast, the boy hated how he felt like a part of a faceless audience, in the darkness made deeper by the light of the stage. He would never be a part of the circle of light—all he could do was watch them from afar.
Bonds Sought[]
The brother and sister wander The Cage and come across a darkness like the ocean's depths. Appearing before them are clusters of lights—giant jellyfish swimming across the sky and smaller bioluminescent larvae floating in their wake.
The two stand in silence, unable to draw their eyes away from the fantastical sight. The boy thinks back to the time he went to the aquarium when he was very young. Colored lights bathed the jellyfish in the tank, and he remembers what his sister said when she saw them.
"They're like...gems," her voice scarcely a whisper.
She sounds the same as she did in his memory. No matter how distant they grow, even if they never speak to each other, they did once spend time together... Perhaps still, they have a sibling's bond.
They pull out their phones together, turn them in the same direction, and take a picture so that the moment will live on forever.
When the eclipse cracked and shattered, the sun and the moon brought to life a miracle for these two.
They do not know why things have come to this. They cannot say who wished for this.
But for now, all they need is a little more. A little more time to walk side by side as brother and sister, as they once did.
Kurezome[]
He spends his days studying and working, casting
aside a normal high school life to focus solely on
his goal. He does this all so he might become a doctor
and save his ailing mother's life.
His classmates do nothing but slack. His coworker is nothing
but talk. The boy's days are weight down by all of society's ills,
and when he gets news of his mother's impending death,
it breaks him.
He plans to kill himself so his mother might have his heart.
His final moments stretch into eternity.
But before he can consume the poison,
the phone rings, informing him his mother has died.
He gets revenge on his father—he who drove his mother to death.
But then he realizes that her death was, in fact,
a homicide, and vows to spend the
rest of his days in search of retribution.
Defective Kurezome[]
When the boy wakes, he finds himself in a strange world called
The Cage. He captures the beautiful views that greet him
with his phone, and they seem to lift a foul fog from his heart.
A strange creature in a black sheet guides him through The Cage,
along with her child. Her ditziness and poor wayfinding make
him nervous, but the way she says his name warms his heart.
As they traverse The Cage, he finds clues that his sister is
somewhere nearby. Warm memories erupt—identifying stars,
going to the aquarium—but he
buries his discomfort deep in his heart.
He faces off with his sister—the one he must kill to
avenge his mother. But he cannot make this dream a reality,
and instead burdens himself with redemption—and wandering
The Cage for eternity.
Type-2 Dawnstar[]
Yesterday was Mom and Dad's anniversary.
What kind of flowers would they want, I wonder?
My sister and I pool our coins and head to the florist.
I've been getting less allowance recently, but I saved for this.
We talk to the florist and finally chose a strawberry plant with
little white flowers that's said to bring happiness.
Mom and Dad have been fighting a lot lately,
so I hope it helps.
When we get home, Mom and Dad are fighting again.
We step between them and hold out the present,
and they both stop to smile. My sister and I are so
happy now. I hope they stay get along forever...
The plant we gave our parents is nice, but Mom is still unhappy.
We're all unhappy. But I put hope in the tale of the little red fruit,
because it would be too painful to live without it.
Dark Lightning[]
I arrange the flowers I bought for my mom's hospital room.
Her battle with illness has been ongoing, and it pains me
to see her haggard face.
Still, these moments are absolutely irreplaceable.
I've once again come to ■■ mom's hospital room to arrange
her ■■■■■■■. She's always been fond of ■■■■■■,
■■■■■■■■ things. I just wish things could be like
old times... And now I'm getting all ■■■■■■■■■■■.
■■■■■, the doctor updated me on my mom's
■■■■■■■■■, and I lost the ■■■■■■ to arrange
her flowers. Can I truly ■■ ■■ ■■■■■■ for her? Is that
even ■■■■? Is there ■■■■■■ ■■■■■■■ I can do?
I bring ■■■■ ■■■■■■■ today to ■■■■ ■■ for what
I couldn't before. It'll ■■ ■■■■... I'll ■■■■ ■■■ ■■
■■■■■. I ■■■■■ my ■■■■ and listen to the sound
that represents ■■■■—that we'll ■■■■ together again.
Hamelin Special Sword[]
I was placed in a platoon of rejects. I hated it, but we were
going to do a good job and force our superiors to accept us.
It was the only way I'd ever be able to look my sister in the eye.
So many of us are dead. Is it my fault? Was my strategy poor?
How does my sister handle failure? Wait, that's dumb—she
wouldn't fail in the first place.
Maybe I'm just not in the same league as my sister.
I'm infected. My body doesn't move like I want it to.
Looks like I'm going to die with everyone else here.
The moon is so beautiful...
I wonder if my sister sees it too. I miss her so much.
The Legion and I killed every last officer in the organization
as retribution for sending us out to die.
You don't belong in an organization like this,
my sister—and I'm coming to save you.
1 Record matches the category selection:
| Banner | Title | Event Character | Other Character | Duration(s) |
|---|---|---|---|---|
|
A Question of Decorum | Yuzuki | 9/27/2023-10/15/2023 |
Remnants: Moonlight[]
Obtained after completing The People and the World Act II: The Return (Cherished Memories)
Hm? Your name's Mama too?
No, it's nothing. Was just thinking that the Mama I knew
was a bit more scatterbrained than you seem to be.
Anyway, that's not important. Forget I said anything.
...I visited places that were like museums during this journey,
and what I saw displayed there seemed like the history of
another, separate humanity. There were even two soldiers
that looked exactly like us, and it seemed to me like they
were doing what they could to survive in a world that caused
them nothing but pain, just like us...
Maybe my sister and I are meant to be miserable no matter
what world we're in, and no matter how hard we try to fight
it. We might just be made that way, you know? Not to say
that makes it okay that we got The Cage and everyone in it
tangled up in our fight, though. Because it doesn't.
I won't ask for anything more. I'm done making wishes.
But... I at least want to be with my sister...
Y Record[]
Yuzuki's posts on the official Japanese NieR Reincarnation Twitter during April Fool's.
Twitter Post 1[]
勉強記録を兼ねて日常をしたためる。
#Yの記録[2]
Translation: (to be added)
Twitter Post 2[]
今日も勉強。
#Yの記録[3]
Translation: (to be added)
Twitter Post 3[]
バイトへ向かう。何か食べてから行くべきか。夜ご飯のアイデア求む。
#Yの記録[4]
Translation: (to be added)
Twitter Post 4[]
バイトが終わり帰路につく。今日は酔っ払いに絡まれなかった。良い日だ。
#Yの記録[5]
Translation: (to be added)
Twitter Post 5[]
結局時間がなく、適当なパンを食べる。明日は病院に行けるといいが。
#Yの記録[6]
Costumes[]
Variations of characters and weapons can be unlocked through the in-game gacha system.
 |
Devoted Student (★★)
Force: 11712
Character Skill: Gust
Character Abilities
|
 |
Devoted Husk (★★)
Force: 11712
Character Skill: Gust
Character Abilities
|
 |
Guardian Student (★★★)
Force: 19138
Character Skill: Inverted Haze
Character Abilities
|
 |
Celebratory Student (★★★★)
Force: 34496
Character Skill: Twin Comets
Character Abilities
|
 |
Mechanical Student (★★★★)
Force: 36802
Character Skill: Mastery: Storm
Character Abilities
|
 |
Abstract Student (★★★★)
Force: 36481
Character Skill: Sublime Reflection
Character Abilities
|
 |
Abyssal Student (★★★★)
Force: 30500
Character Skill: Half-Moon
Character Abilities
|
 |
Reborn Reject (★★★★)
Force: 23927
Character Skill: Polar Night
Character Abilities
|
Voicelines (English)[]
- "I would go to my school's library almost every day. In a school crowded with hundreds of students, it was the only place I could be alone with my thoughts."
- "For as long as I can remember, I've loved looking at the sky. I would always look up cloud classifications, or the names of stars and the legends associated with them. I guess looking up at the vastness above helped me forget my troubles."
- "I've never been great at dealing with others, but my mother accepted that part of me, and loved me all the same. Despite being naturally frail, she always pushed herself for my sake. So, if there's something I can do for my mother's sake, then—"
| Entrance Dialogue | EntranceDialogue |
| New Wave | NewWaveDialogue |
| Attacking | AttackDialogue AttackDialogue |
| Counter | CounterDialogue CounterDialogue CounterDialogue |
| Receiving Damage/Debuff | |
| Receiving Healing/Buff | ReceiveHealDialogue |
| Giving Debuff | DebuffDialogue DebuffDialogue |
| Healing | HealDialogue HealDialogue |
| Giving Buff | BuffDialogue BuffDialogue |
| Companion Skill | CompanionDialogue CompanionDialogue |
| Revived | ReviveDialogue |
| Death | DeathDialogue DeathDialogue |
| Quest Complete (Unused) | QuestCompleteDialogue QuestCompleteDialogue QuestCompleteDialogue |
| Enhancement (Unused) |
Trivia[]
- Yuzuki's name reflects the motif of his story and is also a direct contrast to his sister.
- Yuzuki's favorite food is pears.[1]
- Yuzuki's hobby is photography.[1]
- Yuzuki's special skill is predicting the weather.[1]
- The English concept art for "Mechanical Student" is incorrectly labelled "Guardian Soldier".
- For April Fools' 2022, the official Japanese NieR Reincarnation Twitter posted tweets from Yuzuki's perspective during the night.
Gallery[]
References[]
- ↑ 1.0 1.1 1.2 1.3 https://twitter.com/NieR_Rein/status/1515570760189825024
- ↑ https://x.com/NieR_Rein/status/1509817968964026369
- ↑ https://x.com/NieR_Rein/status/1509818863139303428
- ↑ https://x.com/NieR_Rein/status/1509824969056088070
- ↑ https://x.com/NieR_Rein/status/1509878867028488192
- ↑ https://x.com/NieR_Rein/status/1509886647227527172
