4. Fear the Hunger

Masaru came to in complete darkness and jerked upright. His stomach turned and he spewed bitter juice onto the floor, losing his balance in the process and landing in the puddle. He gasped for air and inhaled a drop of vomit, burning into him. 'Calm down. Calm down!' The short old guy. Hanzou. He remembered now. 'Breathe. You'll live. I think.'

Masaru highly doubted it, but he had doubted from the start. 'You killed me,' he choked out, hands reaching for Hanzou and missing by a long shot.

'Not yet.'

Suddenly panicked, Masaru crawled to where he thought the door was. He missed that, too, and banged his head against solid wood in the pitch dark. 'Stay put,' Hanzou said. 'I'll only kill you if you turn on me. Or if you pass out and won't wake. Or grow extra arms out of your gut. You'll also stop dragging your vomit through my hut if you stay where you are. I'd really appreciate that.'

Even if he had wanted to, Masaru couldn't have moved another inch. He was drained of what was left of his strength, bled dry by the foul liquid he had forced himself to drink. How had he thought this was a good idea? All he had wanted was to live, just a little longer.

'Better.' Hanzou sighed. 'Stay there. I'll clean up your mess. Try not to throw up anymore.'

With difficulty, Masaru suppressed a burst of hysterical laughter. As if he had that under control. But somehow, he felt better. His eyes were slowly adjusting to the darkness and he saw a sliver of light where the mat covered the opening to the hut. Pondering if he would make it outside – to get fresh air rather than because he planned to flee – he watched Hanzou wiping the floor and throwing the rag he had used outside. 'It's almost morning anyway,' the old man said. 'I'll make food. You stay here. Try and eat something after.'

A dreadful thought. Even the softest, smallest bits of food felt as if he was trying to swallow shards of broken crockery. And in the past couple of days, it had got worse than that. If he did get something down now, it would come back the way it went, pretty much undigested, causing him twice the agony on the way back up. No-one could help him. His imminent death was a matter of days rather than weeks. Drinking demon goo now seemed like the act of desperation it was rather than a wise option. But it was done and if he was honest with himself, he'd do it again if he thought it had even the slightest chance of saving him.

Masaru leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. The faint sounds of Hanzou building a fire lulled him back to a doze until the short man came back and prodded him. 'Come on out.'

Finding his feet was much less of a chore than Masaru had expected. He went outside and felt the sun on his face like a caress. He closed his eyes. Today, he promised himself. He would either live properly or he would die today. Maybe Hanzou would help. He seemed like he wouldn't mind and maybe he had something that just let him fall asleep. 'Hanzou,' he started and fell silent immediately. His voice sounded different, not like him at all. 'Hanzou,' he tried again, but still what he produced was a growl that would have frightened him if it was directed at him. 'What's going on with me?'

'I expected the demon tissue to change you. There. Eat.' Hanzou passed him the leg of some bird.

Cautiously, Masaru bit into it, chewed and swallowed. For a few, glorious moments, there was no pain. And then an agony exploded in him like nothing he had ever known. He doubled over and threw up again, not hours later as usually, but at once. Shaking, he stared at the pool of blood before him. The chunks of meat in it were smoking in the fluid. Finding strength in this last verdict, Masaru reached out and grabbed Hanzou's clothes. He pulled him towards him. 'Kill me,' he said. 'Kill me now or I will kill you.'

To his credit, Hanzou wasn't afraid. 'Not so fast. Two more tries. Just two that match the diet of the youkai whose tissue you consumed. If that doesn't work, I'll kill you. All right?'

Masaru hesitated. He let go of Hanzou and nodded. 'Fine.'

'There. Try this.'

The flesh Hanzou passed him was raw. And green. It should look disgusting, but somehow … it didn't. On the contrary, it seemed much more appealing than what he had been given before. 'How is more demon meat going to make it better?'

'Because it's just the meat without the herbs and processing the tissue in the medicine underwent,' Hanzou explained. 'There was very little actual meat in that. This is just … food. A bit exotic, maybe, but safe. For you, that is.'

'And you?'

'It would make me very sick, even though I have handled so many poisons I am immune to them by now. Consuming youkai, though … it's dangerous for a mortal who hasn't been prepared.'

'You really don't know if this will work, do you?'

Hanzou shrugged. 'I'm reasonably certain that this is not going to kill you, Masaru. If you die, it will be because you met me too late to recover.'

Carefully, Masaru tugged a bit off the chunk with his front teeth. It tasted like heaven, slightly spicy with a mild, fruity aftertaste. He closed his eyes, relishing in the texture as his teeth sank into the soft yet springy meat. Juice gushed from the breaking tissue and some dribbled out of his mouth and down his chin. Masaru didn't care, he felt an elation he had never felt in his life, and despite wanting the moment to last forever, he swallowed. For a few heartbeats he held his breath, waiting – but nothing happened. After a moment of hesitation, he positively devoured the rest, utterly unaware of the eyes lingering on him, watching his every reaction. Slowly, Masaru opened his eyes and looked at Hanzou with wonder. Could he really be so lucky or was this a delusion to accompany him into the afterlife?

'See?' Hanzou said. 'I've got one more. Try what this does for you.'

With less scepticism than he probably should feel, Masaru looked at the chunk of pink meat held between Hanzou's fingers. 'And what is this is?' he asked, wondering if he wanted the answer; wondering if it would make any difference after what had happened already.

'Do you want to know?' Hanzou gave voice to Masaru's own thoughts.

Tearing his eyes from the meat, he met the old man's gaze. 'I think I do.' This was it, Masaru decided. This was where he could choose to die with dignity or to live as a monster. The thing was, he had never believed that there was anything remotely dignified in death. He felt alive and strong and good. And so he ate.