Hey guys, don't mind me. Just messing around with some ideas for a new story. Don't know if I'll continue this or not; thoughts/opinions from readers would be appreciated to help me decide. Thank you!
Find a ghoul. That's the first thing to do. Any ghoul, it doesn't matter. It's not like I have any leads right now. I think about this in the bedroom of my new apartment, staring down three stories at the bustling street below. Two months ago I moved here, back to the 14th ward, where we lived before the attack. However, I wasn't able to bring myself to get too close to the old neighborhood. It would be too painful for me to constantly pass by all the places we used to go together. Therefore, I'm living in an area of the 14th ward that's brand new to me, near its borders with the 4th and 13th wards. I don't yet know what this new neighborhood has to offer. I haven't been outside much lately.
It's not so much a matter of finding a ghoul, I think to myself as I lie on my futon, staring around at the walls I haven't bothered to decorate. I just need to let a ghoul find me. It shouldn't be too hard. All I have to do is go out alone at night, wander the city streets and back alleys, and wait to feel a presence behind me. Right now I'm just watching the sun set over the people on the street below as they hurry past each other, intent on reaching their destinations. The 14th ward isn't a war zone, but it's not the safest of places either. I guess the police do their best.
I roll off of the futon and stand up slowly, stretching my tense back muscles. I should eat something. There's not much in my pantry, but I root around until I find a bag of soba noodles and some plums I bought at the open-air market. I switch on the gas dai and place a pot of water on the burner. While it heats to a boil, I return to my bedroom and consider which clothes to wear for tonight's mission. Something dark, comfortable, easy to move in. With pockets. A pair of dyed cotton pants, a black tank top, and a baggy, hooded sweater that used to belong to her. I slip them on silently, then turn to regard myself in the mirror.
I read once that men who prey on women look for specific physical mannerisms in order to pick out their potential victims. It's probably the same for ghouls. Slouched shoulders indicate low confidence. Staring at the ground means less awareness of your surroundings. A hesitant, timid attitude means you're less likely to fight back and cause trouble. And of course, physical size plays a part in it. I stare at my reflection, trying to judge myself through the eyes of a predator. I'm of average height and skinny, lean from months of turning down food. My face is as pale as a moon wafer, offset by dark eyes and coal-black hair. It's not a face that stands out as either memorably ugly or stunningly pretty. No distinct birthmarks or scars. No tattoos. My ears are pierced, but I'm not wearing earrings tonight. I look like I could disappear from a crowd and no one would notice. Slowly, I practice slouching my shoulders and lowering my head, turning back and forth to see myself from different angles. The feeling of immutability washes over me quietly, like a tide. I am nobody, and nobody knows me. Within that vast emptiness lies a piercing kind of freedom.
The hiss of boiling water brings me back to the kitchen, where I toss the soba noodles in the pot and slice the plums, remove the pits. It doesn't take long for my meal to be ready, and I seat myself before the fold-out table that looks over the main avenue. The sea of faces on the street are illuminated from every side by lights of restaurants and shops, neon advertisements and vehicle headlights. The streetlights are beginning to flicker on as the sun dips toward the horizon. Tokyo is such a brilliant place, even at night. There's no way it could ever disappear.
The soba noodles are warm and filling, and the plums add their rich flavor to the otherwise bland meal. I allow myself a small congratulations on managing this much. Cooking was her thing, not mine. I had a few basic dishes that I tended to stick to for nourishment, whereas she was always looking to expand her repertoire. Stir-fried shrimp. Breaded fish fillets. Italian-style pasta. I ate anything she made, never one to be picky about food. She teased me for my lack of skill in meal preparation. What would you do without me? Live off bread and noodles forever?
When dinner is done, I place my dishes in the sink and return to my bedroom to wait. I don't want to lose myself to anxiety, watching the shadows grow longer and darker across the floor, so I pick up a book on biology and settle atop my quilted blanket to read. The world disappears for a while into a vast, soundless void. When I emerge from my stupor of concentration, the window shows a black sky and my clock reads 11:00 pm. Perfect timing.
I fill the pockets of my sweater with my cell phone, apartment key, mace, and a long switchblade. I know knives won't work against ghouls, but I don't want to get sidetracked by any human stalkers. Tokyo can be a weird place at night. Before I leave the apartment, I glance around and take a quick inventory of everything I'll leave behind in the event of my death. Furniture, clothes, books, a bit of food, and some bittersweet memories. Nothing much worth having, really. I pull my hood over my head and turn away.
If you were here you would tell me not to go. But if you were here, I'd have no reason to go, would I?
The summer air is warm, and my sweater hugs me like a shroud of protection as I make it to the street and start to wander slowly toward the 4th ward. That's a seedy part of town. Plenty of back alleys to get lost in. Cars fly past me as I follow the main road, trying to school my body into the proper posture. Shoulders slouched. Head down. Vacant expression. It's not so hard. I don't know if the people I pass are looking at me. I don't spare a glance for any of them.
Once I reach the 4th ward, I depart from the main road and start following a series of streets that grow narrower and narrower. If I have to choose between two routes, I take the darker one. My senses are alert to everything around me. The pungent aroma of cheap food sold in streetside stalls. The glaring glow of neon signs advertising tattoo parlors and 'gentlemen's clubs.' The streets are littered with cigarette stubs and discarded plastics. I pass by a small park, and a group of loitering men call out to me. I keep walking as though I don't hear them. Ghouls don't congregate in groups out in the open, at least, I don't think they do. Unless they're really stupid, maybe….
A few times, I hear the clack of footsteps behind me and force myself to slow down so their owner can catch up, only to have the person pass me and continue on their way. False alarm. I check my cell phone; 1:02 am. This could take all night, or even longer if I'm unlucky (or lucky, as the case may be.) Am I doing the right things? Should I keep walking, or find a dark corner and wait there? Should I take my sweatshirt off so the scent of my flesh will be stronger?
The image of her lying in a lake of her blood, skin stripped and eyes blank comes back to me with a sudden, nauseating lurch. At that same moment, I feel a tingle run along my spinal column. Eyes. Someone, watching. I force myself not to glance around. Keep walking. Shoulders slouched. Head down. I turn from the street into an alleyway, and I feel the presence draw nearer. That's good. Keep coming. The glow from businesses and streetlights dies out as I move deeper into the latticework of alleys. Look at me, what an easy target. Practically begging to be eaten. Now I hear the footsteps closing in. Don't run. Don't scream. Just wait for it. Come on, you bastard, come on-!
A meaty fist connects with the side of my face and I reel into the brick wall, stunned. A man is looming over me, wearing the same kind of dark, loose clothing I am. His face is covered in a strangely shaped black mask. He lunges forward, and my jaws crack together as his fist strikes again. Pain makes the world spark in different colors. Blood gushes from my lips and I fall without a sound. His raspy breathing fills the alleyway as he glances around quickly, then slides a knife out of his belt and seizes the top of my hood. I twist away and he snarls viciously. "Take it off! Take off the hood, you stupid cunt, or I'll rip out your eyes while you're still breathing! I'm not fucking around!"
He's trying to get at my throat, to slice open a vital point that will end this struggle immediately. I feel his breath gush around the corners of his mask, and I reach up for the hand that's tangled in my hood. He growls and swipes at me one-handed. The knife grazes my collarbone as I grip his forearm like a bat and wrench it solidly to the left. A resounding crack tears through the air, like a baseball being punted for a home run.
He screams in shock and lurches backward, dropping the knife and clawing at his bent arm. I quickly fill the space between us with a furious punch to his chin and another to the gut. His feet lose hold of the ground and he collapses into the far wall with a satisfying thud. The mask parts ways with his face and clatters to the pavement several feet away. I yank my hood back over my head and move to block him from an easy retreat. "You- gaaaah! You bitch! What the fuck? What the fuck?!" He straightens up and I see his face, though it's not much to look at- dull black eyes, a nose that looks like it's been broken several times, and a horrible gash of a mouth. His injured arm flops limply to his side as he staggers back to his feet. "How the hell did- Christ! Sonofabitch! You're not, you're not, are you…." His eyes dart back and forth, seeking me out underneath my hood. "Are you….a ghoul?"
I don't answer him, and he seems to take my silence as an affirmative. "You are, aren't you? Then what the fuck are you doing on my hunting grounds? I could kill you for that!"
"I want to ask a question." My words come out slightly slurred as I wipe my bloody mouth on my sleeve. "You give me a good answer and I'll leave."
"Who the fuck do you think you are, you little bitch? You're gonna pay for fucking up my arm! You'd better get down on your knees and beg for mercy, 'cause you just crossed the wrong guy…." As his threats ramble on, his eyes grow deep reddish black and a long, tentacle-like appendage starts rising out of the arc of his back. Shit, seems like I have to fight some more. With an ugly grimace he charges forward, his kagune bearing down on me like a spear. I leap to the side and it follows, swiping in a wide arc. We're making a racket now- I'm sure it's only a matter of time before the authorities arrive. Got to move fast. I dodge the raking kagune again and pace around him in a tight circle. I can finish this in one good shot, but the timing has to be perfect. I see my chance as he strikes again; curling my body under the unfurling appendage, I slide within its range and lunge-
A crimson knife blade strikes the outer edge of my waist; his second kagune, I realize, which he'd been holding in reserve. The flesh tears and I feel blood soak into my sweater like a bursting dam. Crashing to the ground, I tumble across the asphalt and raise my head to see him hurtling straight toward me, a savage scream of victory in his throat, kagune appendages writhing horribly overhead….but in his rush to close the kill, he's left his chest wide open.
My wound burns wickedly and I feel the its warm liquid suddenly grow cold and congeal into a solid form. It bursts from my sweater and I scream like I'm being ripped open from the inside. My eyes blur and I can't see what's happening, but rough, stinking fingers are clawing at my throat for just a second before a meaty thock rings out and they're jerked away. Now I can't tell which cry of pain is mine and which is his. Senses roaring, I bite down on my bloody lip and push myself off the asphalt to see the figure of my attacker sprawled several feet away, pinned to the wall by a glistening crimson spear that's pierced right through his shoulder.
The guy is screaming bloody murder, and I stand up shakily and try to collect my breath while I wait for his kagune to dissipate. Once the red appendages have vanished, I close in on him with an urgency that overrides the throbbing pain in my torso. There will be no point to any of this if I don't get something out of him before the authorities show up.
Gasping heavily, I kneel beside him and press a hand against his throat until his screams die out. "Hey, fucker," I growl, spitting out a mouthful of blood. "Ready to answer my question now?"
"What the hell do you want?!" His voice is a choked whisper-moan, and I glance around quickly to make sure we won't be interrupted.
"Seven months ago, an apartment building by Nakano Broadway in the 14th ward was attacked by several ghouls. Loads of casualties. Big news story." I tighten my grip in a sharp spasm of rage. "You know anything about that?"
"Nakano….no! I don't- I don't know anything about it! I swear to god I-" He lets out another gurgling scream as I seize the spear pinning him with my other hand and give it a rough shake.
"You sure about that? Think real hard. Ghouls talk to each other, right? Somebody around here knows something about who pulled that off."
"I don't know! I swear to fucking god I don't know! Please…." He's begging now, trembling, and I don't like that; I'd prefer for him to cuss me out and fight back. Growling under my breath, I shove his hands aside and listen to the echo of voices sounding from the street. Time's almost up.
"Then where can I go to find out? Where do ghouls get together and plan this kind of shit?"
"I don't-"
"WHERE, MOTHERFUCKER? NOW!"
"Ah, fuck! Okay! I've heard about a place in the 14th….it's called H-Helter Skelter…."
"What the hell does that mean?"
"I don't know, I swear, I've never been there! I just heard it was a place for trading information! T-the password's monochrome, it'll get you into the private section if you tell them….that's all I know! I swear, I swear!"
I want to press him more, but just then I hear a dangerous-sounding hum coming from around the corner. A deep male voice calls out, "CCG! Stay where you are and do not attempt hostility, or we will use deadly force!"
The man's face loses all remaining color and he begins to struggle weakly. "Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit."
I step away and relax my muscles, and the spear driven through his shoulder liquefies into a sodden splash of crimson. "You're done hunting humans. Don't try to fight and maybe they won't kill you."
In a sudden burst of inspiration, I hurry over to the other wall and retrieve the mask I knocked off him. Throwing one last backward glare, I clamp it over my face and take off running down the alley opposite the way I came, away from the deadly humming. Each stride feels like my side is splitting open, but the pain becomes an exhilaration the faster I move. I fly out of the alley, across a deserted road, and down another network of side streets and alleys. The few people I encounter on my way barely have enough time to turn their heads before I'm gone. I am nobody, and nobody knows me.
I run until I make it to a wooded area, a park which I know is on the border between the 4th and 13th wards. Enveloped by thick trees and darkness, I finally remove the stifling mask and examine it more closely. It seems to be made of a combination of leather and light metal. The surface is all black, and it has intricate shapes hammered across it, giving it an avant-garde-style texture. The eyeholes are carefully placed below the brow. Someone put a lot of skill into this thing, which seems weird, considering who it belonged to. I can't imagine that unremarkable thug making something so involved.
I stuff the mask down the front of my sweatshirt before I emerge from the park and head in the direction of the 14th ward. My abdomen is still soaked, but I'm wearing black, so no one can tell that it's blood. As I walk further, the exhilaration wears off and the hurt comes rushing back. I wish I had thought to bring pain medication. Or bandages. Oh well, it can't be helped. I stick to the main road on my way back, not wanting to risk another ghoul interaction. Even as I limp through intersections and past blocks of shuttered stores, I can feel, deep within my body, the blood clotting and scar tissue beginning to form. I'll rest for a day or two, and then the injury will be gone. It's fine. I got what I needed. Someplace to start looking for answers. Helter Skelter….whatever that means. That bastard better not have lied to me. I doubt it, though. Don't think he had the presence of mind to lie at that point. I scared the living hell out of him.
I reach my apartment building without further incident. As I wait for the elevator to take me to my floor, I think carefully over the events of the night. I've never been a violent person, but all of that came to me so easily. I don't remember feeling guilt or fear. It was almost like acting out a memorized routine, something I've done many times before. Or something I know by instinct.
In my apartment, I hide the ghoul mask underneath my towels and proceed to gingerly remove my clothes. I'll have to soak them in some sort of solution to get the blood out. For now, I step into the shower and clean my wound with soap and disinfectant. My abdomen, left leg, and breast are all coated in dried blood, and I slowly knead the soap into my skin until it's all washed down the drain. I was too careless, attacking him without noticing his other kagune. That could have ruined everything. I have to be more discerning in the future.
For some reason, his dumb, astonished face and fearful words come back to me as I dry myself and search for bandages in the linen closet. You are, aren't you? A ghoul….
A ghoul? That stupid idiot. I stand naked before the mirror, carefully wrapping strips of gauze around my waist. The bleeding has stopped and the wound is quickly scarring over. Scoffing under my breath, I search through my clean laundry for underwear and a pair of mercifully soft pajamas. I hang my bloodstained clothes up in the shower and check to make sure I've locked the door. It's not until I slide between my quilt and futon that I realize I really am tired, and have been for a while. As much as there is to ponder, it isn't long before the light of conscious thought goes out and I give myself once more to the emotionless void of sleep.