PART IX. "Descent."
"Beware that, when fighting monsters, you yourself do not become one."
- Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche.
Kurama.
The Fuyōka no Makai Shokubutsu's leafy wings hit the dirt below once I entered the cave. Immediately, I heard the familiar moans of the elder Toguro. His ramblings echoed deep into the tunnels after me as I made my way out. Though I knew I couldn't hear him anymore after a while, his moans played in the back of my head. *
I was meeting with Genkai today. I'd spoken to her over the phone a couple days ago and she agreed to help me. I contacted those who I was on good terms with and they all agreed to help as well.
Genkai found an area high up in the mountains to keep their training separate from Aiko's and Maya's.
Genkai wanted me to meet her in the mountain at the training site. I figured, though, it would be polite to let Aiko know there were more youkai in the vicinity. If any of Yomi's henchmen decided to come around watch over my team, she wouldn't need to feel alarmed. I reassured her that wouldn't happen, but I'd rather her fret over them than Yomi's men.
I didn't tell her I was visiting, and so I kept my ki suppressed as I neared the temple's dojo. I stopped at the outskirts of the clearing that showed the inside of the otherwise spotless dojo.
I watched her from afar, taking note of her progress. With Maya, she spared.
Her moves were heavy, grounded, and tight. It reminded me of a bull: headstrong and fast. When not attacking, she was prepping, gathering her strength, and figuring the best approach to use it.
She'd grown more than I could have imagined in less than a month.
I noticed Yukina on the sidelines, watching with mild entertainment. Her red eyes caught me, and she gave me a small nod and smile. I returned the gestures and pressed my index finger to my lips.
She nodded and looked back to the girls.
Maya charged Aiko, and the brunette put one foot forward. With both arms bent at the elbow, up at her side, she carried herself and brought a gust of wind with her. She shoved her arms out; fists clenched, she let loose a fiery wave of ki.
It exploded, seemingly engulfing Maya, and Aiko backed away from the wild flames. The ebony haired girl leapt from the fire unscathed and charged at her friend again. Blue electricity flew from her finger tips at a mere snap of two, flying towards Aiko.
"I've put in all this work setting up training and accommodations for your team. It better not have been so you could come here to see that little gold-digger."
I looked down to Genkai, who was now at my side, and smiled. "Of course not."
"You're here?!" The familiar voice gasped, and I turned to find Aiko sprinting out of the dojo and towards me. Maya stood in the dojo, fist cocked back, with a surprised look on her face. "You came back!"
She'd jumped on me before I could protest, but I steadied myself as sturdy arms wrapped around my neck. Her grip tightened as she held me, and I heard a sigh of relief leave her lips and flow onto the crevice of my neck.
"What happened with Yomi?" she asked, pulling away. "Why are you back so soon?"
"Business for Yomi," I replied, resting my hand on the small of her back. "I'm gathering some fighters to help with the cold war tensions in Makai."
"Oh, yeah," she said. "I remember you mentioned that."
I turned to Genkai. "Are they here, or have you already moved them up the mountain?"
"They're up the mountain," she replied, heading into the forest. "Still waiting on a few stragglers but they know where to go."
"I'll see you in a few hours," I said, following after her.
"Okay!" She was heading back to the dojo with Maya.
As I followed Genkai into the forest, I took one last glance over my shoulder to Aiko. She stood with Maya and now bore a slack jaw and wide eyes. Maya looked over her shoulder to me, and our eyes met briefly.
I turned back around and continued on my way. I wanted to say the simple exchange didn't bother me, but it did.
I hadn't done anything to upset Maya, so all that left was…
The dojo in the mountains was longer than it was wide and dimmer than the temple. It was dusty, seemingly unused in decades, but the floors and walls held up fine and strong. There was no sign of mold.
I greeted Jin, Touya, and Rinku, and they informed me the rest were on their way. The reunion was pleasant as we exchanged stories of our lives over the past few months. And though I enjoyed speaking to them all again, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't happy when Genkai interrupted us. Genkai ordered them to clean the place before they began; I slipped out and headed back to the compound.
I didn't know which of them to expect when I returned, but it only seemed right that it would be Aiko waiting for me. She sat in the open hallway, legs resting off the edge of the wooden floor. With her elbow on her knee and her face in her hand, she bore a tired expression.
I sat next to her and she glanced over to me with a small pout.
"She overheard me call you 'Kurama' on the phone," she sighed. "I can't believe I didn't catch it before."
"I assumed you told her," I noted.
She shook her head. "Not exactly my place to tell."
"So she thinks I'm a regular person like you, caught up in the supernatural."
She nodded. "I figured if you wanted to tell her anything, you would."
"And so she's upset."
"Yeah, kind of," she replied.
"You can tell her—"
"I'm not telling her," she said curtly. "And I'm not lying to her. I told her if you wanted to tell her anything, you would. Besides, just telling her you're not human may not cut it."
"And why is that?" I turned my gaze to the edge of the forest ahead.
There was a pause, and then a curious hum. "A while back, she said something about you. When she 'first' met you." A small twinge struck my stomach, and she continued. "She said she never really talked to you in junior high, but she felt like she did. Like there's something she was forgetting."
"There's no reason for her to associate my real name with her lack of memory," I replied.
"Yeah, well... make your decision." She shrugged. "If she confronts me again, I'm sending her to you. You can decide what to do."
I felt a smile tugging on my lips. "I erased them to prevent her from getting tied into this kind of world."
"You didn't stop me when I said I was bringing her here," she grumbled.
"Because you're her friend," I replied. "And you know how to help her."
"You could have asked me not to."
"And what other solution did you have if I stopped you?"
"I don't know…" she grumbled again.
There was a beat of silence between us. "Perhaps there is no point in keeping it a secret."
"You erased her memories because—"
"Because she found out whom I was, and a youkai kidnapped her."
She whistled unenthusiastically. "Maybe you can let her not relive that trauma."
"It's possible," I replied. "Even if I did tell her, I could never bring her memories back. There would be a gap in time for her, small though it is."
"So you think it's better she continues to never know?" she asked.
"I could tell her it happened, but she could never get those memories back," I repeated. "It could instead cause issues between us now."
"Should have thought of that ahead of time, huh?"
"I didn't plan on interacting with her again, let alone her falling into this kind of life." I side-glanced to her, and she pouted and averted her gaze from me. "As I said, this was exactly what I was avoiding."
With an exasperated sigh, she stood. "I'm not going to tell you to tell her, or to not tell her, or how much to tell her. Do what you think is right for you both, okay?"
She extended her hand to me and gave me a small, sympathetic smile. I felt myself smiling as I grabbed her hand.
She led me around Genkai's compound in search of Maya as I contemplated what to do. Maya was always a kind-hearted person, understanding. She had a wild imagination, but she always thought to find the good in people first. She hadn't changed much from junior high, from what Aiko told me.
What could telling her do? Other than spark distrust or hurt feelings?
I wondered why I even cared—I made the most rational choice I could have at the time to save both her and myself. It was selfish of me, yes, but I made sure to only touch the events we shared and nothing else.
But it bothered me now, I realized as I looked down to Aiko. Her fingers laced loosely through mine, guiding me through the hallways.
"Don't touch me."
She led me out of the hallway and into the courtyard.
"—don't do anything."
Aiko stopped walking and nodded to Maya, who was stretching in the middle of the courtyard.
"It's up to you," she said quietly. "If you want to make a break for it before she turns around, the common room is a couple yards that way." Her fingers left mine and then she jabbed her thumb over her shoulder.
Maya, with her back turned to us, surely knew we were both here. Aiko turned on her heels and headed to the common room, leaving me alone to decide.
Maya was always a curious spirit; adventurous was an understatement. Telling her would not only have to be an apology for violating her psyche, but also from keeping her from the world she always wished to see.
The reality, though, was that I didn't owe her any of this. I did what I had to do to protect my identity…
"Ah, Minamino," Maya said, her voice tainted with suspicion despite the welcoming smile. "How nice to see you again."
I met her halfway, stopping where the grass met the rough dirt of the courtyard. "It's nice to see you too, Kitajima."
"Oh, call me Maya." She smiled. "I feel it's only right."
"Then you may call me Kurama, if you want."
She smirked and snorted softly. "She put you up to this?"
"It was bound to happen sooner or later," I replied.
"I guess so." She crossed her arms over her chest. "So, Kurama, is that your superhero name?"
I laughed. "No, it's my real name."
She paused. "What does that mean?"
"It means it's my real name. It's the name I've always gone by."
"But your name at school—"
"That is my real name as well, I suppose. The name I was born with."
She paused again, frowned, and furrowed her brows. "…You're beating around the bush."
"I'm waiting for you to ask a question so I can answer it."
Her frown deepened. "And what question is that?"
"Any question."
She blinked a few times and then cocked her head to the side. She looked down at the ground in thought before looking back up at me—this time, a bit surprised.
"She told you about what I said, didn't she?" she mumbled.
"That you felt you knew me from somewhere," I answered. "Knew me more than you thought you did."
"So I was right…" she mumbled, hand covering her mouth in thought as her eyes hit the ground again. "But I don't know why. I thought it was just like… déjà vu or something. I didn't really think…"
"When we were in junior high, you confessed I was your first love," I said, and she choked on the saliva in her throat. I tried containing the sly, teasing grin that was undoubtedly forming on my face.
She began coughing, and her face turned beet red. "I—I didn't! Did I?!" she gasped. "I did not!"
"I assure you, you did." I smiled.
"Oh my god," she gasped, hands flying to her face. "No wonder I don't remember—I must have repressed it. The rejection must have been horrible."
"Actually, it wasn't," I reassured her.
She turned rigid like stone, face still burning. "Huh?"
"I don't think I turned you down harshly," I mused, remembering the day after school. "I'll admit it wasn't the most polite way to reject someone, but it was far from embarrassing."
Confused, brown eyes flickered up at me.
"Okay, but… I don't remember any of it," she grumbled, and then paused. "So if it wasn't horrible, why don't I remember any of it?"
I waited for her to question me. I didn't want to outright tell her, especially if she didn't want to hear it.
"Why don't I remember it?" she asked again, this time staring up at me. "I don't remember… My parents said I had a nasty fall and hit my head in junior high. It left some things fuzzy but… if you were my 'first love', why don't I remember you? I knew of you in junior high but…"
And the confusion turned into pleading; she wanted nothing more than to remember what I took from her.
"Even if I tell you, it wouldn't really bring the memories back," I replied.
Her eyes narrowed in skepticism. "What does that mean?"
There was a beat of silence, and then another, louder beat.
"Would you like me to tell you everything that led to you forgetting about us?" I asked.
She stared at me, disbelief growing, but nodded anyway.
And so I told her. About how she confessed her childhood love to me; how she got caught up in Yakumo's—the youkai—plan and was used against me; how to spare her a paranoid, fearful life, and to save my identity, I erased her memories of our interactions.
And she stood there, staring up at me, face softening with each word. By the end, her arms that crossed over her chest fell to her sides.
She looked at the ground in thought once more. It was as if she wanted to be mad, but didn't know how to be. She wanted to be upset that I took this life from her to begin with, but couldn't remember the loss of much aside from me and a horrible experience.
Then, she looked up to me with confusion. "But you knew Aiko was going to bring me here to help me, right?"
I nodded.
"…But you erased my memories to keep me from knowing about this."
"More so to keep you from knowing who I am, my real identity."
"And you didn't think that could have led us here?"
"Aiko's your friend," I replied with a shrug. "And she thought the best way to help you was to bring you here. I figured whatever happened would happen."
Her nostrils flared briefly and she inhaled sharply. Her lips puckered into a pout and she returned to looking at the ground in thought.
"I'm pissed, yeah," she mumbled, tapping her foot impatiently. "But you didn't take much from me, I know that. Just my memories of you, and of this world."
"And for taking away your knowledge of everything you've ever dreamed of knowing, I'm sorry."
She snorted a small laugh. "I'm mad, but..." She lifted her head up to look at the sky as a soft breeze pushed past us. "There's nothing I can do about it."
"I apologize as well for invalidating whatever choice you may have wanted."
She shrugged at that. "I guess I can see why you did it, to save your identity. It pisses me off, but still. Not much I can do about it. Not much either of us can do about it… Unless you can time travel."
I found myself grinning. "I've yet to master that."
I had nothing more to say, but the air was less clear between us now than it had been before. It didn't feel right to leave it like this.
"Besides, in a way…" She brought her head down and gave me a toothy grin as the wind swept by us again. "I guess that means I was destined for this world."
My grin turned to a softer smile, as I wasn't really surprised at her lightheartedness.
"And, the fact you're apologizing," she continued. "I know it's because of Aiko, but I also know she can't make you do anything." She glanced over her shoulder to look at the compound. "But I suppose I'm glad things turned out this way. She needs someone like you."
My smile disappeared; I was taken back.
She looked to me, smile growing. "In a way, it's good you did what you did back then. Otherwise, I may have stolen you."
She gave me a playful wink, and I found myself laughing. I didn't bother telling her it could have been a possibility. But that was then, and this was now.
"She's grown for you," she said, opening her arms wide as she looked around the compound. "And I've grown for this."
"Maya." A female voice called, and the two of us glanced to the open hallway to find a grey ogre. "Genkai wants you to help Yukina prep dinner."
"Okay!" she called back. "I'll be there in a minute." And then she turned to me with a stern voice. "But in all seriousness, you're lucky that decision worked out for you. Just know that next time you do something like that—it might not."
"Of course." I nodded. "Not everyone is like you, Maya."
She gave me another smile and turned on her heels. Before she got too far away, she sent me one last glance. "Be the guy Aiko sees you as, okay? This is the closest I've seen her with a guy since the train incident. I'd hate to see you ruin that by being the kind of man she hates."
…So she knew.
"It seems lately, that's what I've been trying to do," I replied.
She gave me a curt nod before running towards the ogre, leaving me alone to think.
Aiko.
After we finished our classroom chores, Kurama and I headed off campus. School was in session, and with that came bright green leaves and perky blue skies, and a mountain of assignments and exams that ensured we would never see them if we wanted to pass. Idle chatter lingered with us under heavy branches; small talk about normal routine eased our minds.
Conversations about mutual friends and classmates, and upcoming school events and the like, made the past summer break seem like a far off memory, a dream. Of course, though, with just one word, regardless of its usage in the current context, our talk would derail and switch gears back into the obvious reality.
"So, wait. Is Yomi letting you stay here on weekends to train those guys?" I asked. "Or do you have to go during the week?"
But there was no response, and the comforting sound of his shoes scuffling on the concrete next to me had stopped.
I stopped then as well and looked over my shoulder to him. He was looking over his, out at the street. A black sedan was driving down the relatively empty residential road we'd turned onto a while ago.
Black sedans were one of the most popular cars in the nation—probably even the world. If I ever saw one, though, it had to be one of the girls'.
Kurama moved himself in front of me as the black sedan pulled up to the sidewalk.
"Natsume?" I whispered.
He shook his head gently. "The one who smells of hair product—Fukui."
Fukui? Why her? Why alone?
She never ventured off without Natsume—she never really had a choice, especially not now that she lived with her. Maybe it was a trap.
The car stopped and I inched around Kurama to see the back window roll down. With the tinted windows disappearing came the stench of rubbing alcohol.
"Is she…?" I whispered.
He nodded.
Drunk. Or, at least, hungover.
The first thing I noticed about her was her disheveled hair. It was always long—very long; she couldn't afford to have it knotty and tangled like she had it. She wore large sunglasses as well; the same kind I wore when I was too hungover to function in sunlight.
"Get in." Those two words worried me, not because of what may be waiting for me if I listened, but because of the tone they carried.
She always had a kind of monotone intonation. Ever since winter break, it became more and more exhausted, like it was a strain to speak. Like conversation was a chore. She became less and less happy over the months, and more and more reserved.
But the tone worried me now. It was monotone, but more importantly, strained. She was forcing herself to keep reserved.
"And leave your boyfriend." To top off the eerie atmosphere, I couldn't tell whether she was looking at me or at the headrest in front of her.
Kurama didn't budge, and I was still busy trying to put this all together. Confused and unsure, I found myself looking up to Kurama.
"Trust me, Aiko," Fukui said. "You'll want to hear this."
Kurama knew her aura and smell, so if I disappeared he could hunt her down.
I smiled to Kurama and patted his arm. "I'll see you for dinner tonight?"
His eyes hadn't moved from Fukui, and his tone stayed calm. "Same time as usual."
Eight o'clock.
I handed him my schoolbag and he took it, still boring his stare into the side of Fukui's head. She remained unfazed at the silent threat. I stepped off the sidewalk and rounded the car. Before getting in the backseat, I gave Kurama a lingering glance. He nodded but refused to move.
I settled in the backseat. As the car began moving, I began worrying.
If they figured me out, I didn't know why they'd send Fukui after me. Was it because I'd expect her to be the one least likely to pick me up before they slaughtered me? She didn't care about anything anymore, really. Perhaps she would make a good middle man because of that.
The hum of the car's engine filled the silence during the quiet drive, but it did nothing to ease the tension weighing upon us. I kept my gaze out the window, noting landmarks we passed. The drive seemed to last a while, but I knew it was only because I was anxious.
That anxiety turned into confusion as we pulled into a parking lot, and my brows knitted together in confusion as I scanned the bright structures in the distance. I could hear the laughter and screams; see the little bodies running around.
She took me to the local park.
We rolled to a stop and I looked to her for an explanation—except she'd already exited the vehicle. The door slammed behind her and I glanced up to the rearview mirror in hopes of the driver enlightening me. But of course, he ignored me—stared straight out the windshield. His expression was the emotional equivalent of watching paint dry.
I let myself out of the car and followed Fukui across the sunny park. She stayed to the outskirts of the playground, avoiding attention from the families and active children. She was well aware of how she looked, which was surprising.
If there was one thing the girls had in common that was their own trait—bred and nurtured from their core—it was that they hated not looking their absolute best at all times. At. All. Times. Even if they'd just had a kidney removed.
Her clothes were clean, but plain. She toned her fashion down towards graduation last year, but even this was plain for her. White t-shirt, jeans, and tennis shoes.
Unkempt, matted hair, and hunched over with a shaky, slow walk. I could smell the breakdown a hundred kilometers away, but what triggered it, I had no idea. **
I wanted to be able to feel for Natsume or Hayashi—but I couldn't do it in such a crowded area. Especially not in such a crowded area with a bunch of kids roaming around. Kids are always a bit more spiritually aware.
I figured they wouldn't be here to take me out; they'd need someone that could really get the job done. I wouldn't know whose aura to feel for anyway.
She led me to a bench at the far end of the park, away from all the families and commotion. Two little cement benches faced each other with a table wedged between them. I stopped as the grass turned to dirt, and watched as she settled herself on the edge of a bench.
She waited for me to sit across from her, and I waited for her to catch the hint that it wasn't happening on any level. If I couldn't get out of here fast, I wasn't doing it. I coughed into my fist and cleared my throat, and with a sigh, she held herself like she was about to be sick. Crossing one leg over the other, her foot bounced timidly on the floor.
She made it even more uncomfortable by not saying anything. If they were ambushing me the least they could do was do it already.
"Why did you break his spine?" she asked suddenly.
A sharp pang below my ribs. Guilt's hand gripped my heart.
"Because he would have gotten away again," I replied smoothly.
I worried she found me out. It's always the fucking silent one in the corner.
She grunted and then cocked her head to the side. "It seems you really want to be one of us."
My limbs itched to move—legs shook with anticipation to bolt. I couldn't show fear. I couldn't be defensive. That would show defeat.
Anxiety brewed in my stomach as she continued mumbling. "You really want to learn from Akane, huh?"
And with each word, her voice cracked, becoming less and less monotone. She showed emotion for the first time in a long time, and that was scarier than anything else. It was harsh; feeling was breaking through the wall she placed up long ago.
I pursed my lips and kept my face a clean slate.
"Yeah…" She nodded slowly, and then more feverishly. "Yeah, you want to learn from her. You do. Yeah…"
The situation was so strange, everything was becoming surreal. The children's laughter and screams of delight turned to fuzz in the background of my mind. She was beginning to scare me.
"You really want to learn from her." She continued nodding, and then stopped. And then her head jerked up to face me. "That's why you were snooping around in her father's office all those months ago, right?"
I'd plunged into the depths of the Antarctic. Trapped underneath the largest iceberg, every nerve and muscle, every liquid, turned cold. And then, as time slowed, and the air grew heavier, my head grew lighter. Throbbing in my head, blood rushed around and left my limbs—I panicked.
"I have no idea what you're talking about." I managed a shrug.
I kept my face stern best I could. I knew the reply was lousy and likely to get me strapped to the guillotine, but it was all I could muster.
She scoffed, a heavy bout of air flying out her nostrils. "Why are you really digging your grave with Akane, huh, Aiko? What's your angle with all this?"
Anything I could think to retort with would be a clear cut sign of defeat. My best bet was to stay quiet. If she was going to rat me out to Natsume, I would use this breakdown against her—"she's crazy, look!"
Natsume may fall for it; it wasn't like it was entirely untrue. She was having a breakdown.
She rocked back and forth, foot still bouncing on the floor, as she waited for me to respond. After a few seconds, she took the hint and muttered something to herself under her breath. Then she looked back up at me. I couldn't see her eyes behind the glasses, but I could feel the heat radiating from her eyes and boring into me.
"Akane's going to call you soon about a 'new batch.'" The wall she'd put up was crumbling—fast. "She's going to invite you up for a night."
"…Okay."
"Make sure you agree to come," she paused to clear her throat, to keep her voice steady. "Because I can't do this anymore."
…What?
I felt my nose scrunch a bit in confusion. "You're not going to be there?"
"No, I will…"
There was something about a person's voice when they're trying to hold back sobs. Anyone with a decent amount of empathy would have their heart strings tugged at and have to repress their own tears. The way their voice dialed up a notch or two. The way their breath stuttered in their throat—like they knew what they wanted to tell you was a burden but they couldn't stop going even if they wanted. The way the words that were so prevalent and repeating in their head suddenly couldn't find their way out…
It was disgustingly, dangerously vulnerable, and to see it in Fukui downright terrified me.
"But I can't do this anymore. I can't do this."
I stepped towards her, hand cautiously reaching for her to offer some kind of comfort. "…Do what?"
She clenched her teeth to keep her face from contorting into obvious despair as tears spilled down her cheeks from under the glasses. Her breathing hitched, and my hand trembled to a stop as she snapped.
"I know you're up to something, Aiko, you have to be! You have to be! And I need you to do it. Whatever it is, I need you to do it."
Heart beating in my throat, I lost touch with my senses. I wasn't hot, cold, light, or heavy.
Breath lodged in my throat; my heart stopped beating.
I gave a pitiful chuckle. "What are you talking about?"
"I can't do this anymore, Aiko," she cried. "I can't do this anymore. I don't want to do this anymore."
"Work for Barrier Reg?"
She shook her head, crumbling into herself as she trembled. "I can't sleep anymore. I can't focus. I can't do it anymore. I can't do it anymore."
"Fukui…" I remembered the last time I saw her cry, and I remembered I didn't want to be the one who did that again.
"I can't live with myself anymore," she cried. She raked her fingers through her long hair and pulled at the roots. "I can't do this anymore."
I knelt in front of her, on the small patch of concrete that lay around the bench.
"You need to accept," she cried and ripped off her sunglasses to look at me with bloodshot, dark rimmed eyes. "You need to accept. I know you're up to something, Aiko. I need you to do it—accept her invitation."
"Fukui… You have to tell me what's going on—what's wrong."
She shook her head, and a thin trail of snot leaked out of her left nostril. "I can't—I can't. I never told anyone."
"You can tell me if it'll make you feel better," I offered.
She shook her head and curled into herself like she had that night, pulling her knees to her chest.
"Just say 'yes'," she sobbed. "Say 'yes' so I won't have to do this anymore."
"Do what?" I stressed. "You can say it—whatever it is, Fukui. Come on."
"I've never told anyone," she snapped. "And I never can! I can't even look at myself anymore—how could anyone else?!"
And there it was: Fukui, Hitomi, had cracked.
"Who would want to look at me knowing this?" she whimpered. "How could anyone…"
"Come on," I said softly, reaching for her shoulders. "Let's get back to the car…"
She jerked away from me, inhaling sharply. I pulled them away to show I wouldn't use them again.
"You can find your own way home," she mumbled, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.
Yes, when you dropped me off clear across town. Thanks.
"You sure you don't want me to take you to the car?" I offered.
"I don't want to go back." She shook her head. She began rocking back and forth on the bench, cradling herself. "I can't go back. I can't go back."
She leaned on the table, hid herself from me, and I stayed kneeling in front of the bench. I listened to her repeat the same sentence for what felt like minutes before standing up. I knew she wanted me to leave, but it pained me to leave her like this again.
I walked across the park, back to the car. I didn't want this to be the second time we met, seeing as how the first was similar…
I knocked on the tinted driver's window, and it began to roll down.
An older man, old enough to be her father, sat behind the wheel. Silver strands of hair littered his mustache, which shielded his lips, and his matching eyebrows naturally drooped down to give a sad expression.
"Uh…" I didn't know what to say, and I couldn't bring my mouth to close. "She's… She's across the park and she's kind of… She snapped."
He nodded and looked out the windshield to see her tiny figure in the distance.
"And, well, I don't need a ride and she doesn't want me to be around her right now, so I thought I'd let you know." I looked over my shoulder to see her. And with the eerie wave of guilt that washed over me, I looked back to the driver. "She really needs help."
And then he turned his gaze back to me, and tired brown eyes rested on mine. "I hope you can give it to her, then."
He didn't break eye contact, and I began to feel self-conscious, alert. I didn't know what route this excursion would take but I never thought it'd go down this road. I didn't like this—I couldn't tell what was happening anymore.
"I'll… be going, then," I mumbled before bowing.
He nodded to me, and I walked away as fast as I could without seeming too… rude? Suspicious? I didn't know; I just knew I shouldn't let them see me run.
She knew it was me behind the door this whole time! Did she not say anything to Natsume or Hayashi? How could she not?
Why would she not?
What if she did, and this entire time I was infiltrating, they were playing me?
What invitation was I supposed to accept? Could it be a trap?
Rummaging for my compact in my blazer pocket, I called Suzume and told her to keep an eye on Fukui in Tohoku. I then called Koenma, which I immediately regretted.
"No!" he snapped over the compact. He was lucky I was in the empty streets of a residential neighborhood. "Everything's been compromised then! You said they didn't see you!"
But we agreed that, despite everything, I should still go. If my cover was blown, so be it. He would send me back-up. And if all failed, he'd find another person, a different entryway, into Border Patrol's secrets. I'd... just have to be the sacrifice to pave the way...
I called Kurama the second I returned home. Waiting for him to arrive, I set up the kitchen to help prep dinner. Minoru wouldn't be home for another fifteen minutes. Mami and her older brother would drop him off from ballet lessons.
Kurama and Minoru arrived at roughly the same time, and I sent Minoru into the living room to watch TV. Kurama and I headed to my room, and he sat at my desk as I closed the door behind me. I took one big breath to calm my nerves.
"I'm worried I'm walking into a trap," I sighed, plopping down on the bottom bunk.
"What did she say?" he asked.
"That Natsume's going to call me," I replied. "And that I need to accept her invitation. She's also the one that… uh, oh." I paused, index finger finding its way to my lips in thought. "I never told you."
A red eyebrow popped up in curiosity.
"A few months back, I went snooping around in Natsume's father's study," I explained. "I was almost caught, but couldn't figure who it was. Apparently, it was Fukui."
His green eyes lit up in excitement. "So you suspect she told Natsume, and they've been tricking you the entire time."
When he said it aloud, it became a reality, and it was that much scarier. Taking another deep—and this time shaky—breath, I nodded.
"Would you like me to stay close then?" he offered, and I shook my head.
"You know I don't want you near them," I sighed, unable to keep the smile of gratitude from my face. "I'm going to ask Maya to stay nearby that night."
His eyes widened in surprise. "Maya?"
"Yeah. She offered to help me, whether it's fighting or moral support," I replied. "I don't want you or Kazuma involved, and she lives for the thrill of an adventure."
"Aiko, you need someone who can help... immediately," Kurama said.
"Maya can help… I think we'll be fine!" I grinned. "Maya and I are a great team." When he didn't seem convinced, I compromised. "And besides! If things go wrong, I'll have her contact Botan to get Koenma to call someone. It'll probably be you."
He seemed almost satisfied with that since he didn't protest or point out another flaw in my plan.
"You need to trust me, Kurama," I said, forcing a hopeful smile. "I'm sure I'll be able to handle myself."
"Your ki has grown significantly these past few months, as have your fighting abilities," he agreed. But because his voice was collected and trained, I knew there was a catch to his praise. "But if you were to cross paths with even a C level being, you would struggle… and likely lose."
I paused and frowned. "What 'level' am I right now?"
"When we first met, you were exceptional for a human, but not uncommon," he replied. "A solid E-level, one of the lowest levels that often contains spiritually aware humans."
"And now?"
"I could be wrong," he started. "But I would guess you're at a solid D level, closing in on upper D."
I nodded, a bit upset that my ki level was as low on a grading scale as my academics. "Which is usually…?"
"Most youkai you've come face to face with," he said. "Like Goki, for instance."
With another deep inhale, I accepted the fact. It was fairly strong—for a human, at least. "Then I should be fine. I mean, I don't think Natsume wants youkai working for her anyway, so the most she'd have ambushing me is a bunch of…"
Now that I thought about it, I didn't know how she'd ambush me. We didn't have much time to think about it. The phone in the living room began ringing.
Maya.
Being out in the mountains for so long made the city feel strange. It was overwhelming with all the ki, but I adjusted quickly and with ease. I realized how heavy the city felt, with people walking by and their essence lingering ever so slightly.
The feeling of being watched, surrounded, was another thing I adjusted to quickly, chalking it up to the sheer amount of people in the vicinity. My transition was smooth, and I was able to focus on the things I felt mattered just a tad more.
The city sky looked sad, empty. Street lights and illuminated windows substituted for stars, and subsequently drowned them out. It made me feel lonely. Out in the mountains, even if I was alone, the stars were out—it was like the whole world and more was with me. It was comforting, beautiful, and jubilant.
Despite the dull stars in civilization, I got to see something just as beautiful. The way we created our homes, our streets, and our communities. Life flourished in the city even in the dead of night, just as life flourished in the mountains.
It was a different kind of beauty, civilization. Nature was extraordinary, but civilization was something just as amazing. Nature—we—created civilization.
With a half-eaten bag of chips and a neglected, albeit open, magazine, I gazed out over the quiet city atop a local building roof. It was only a little past eleven but this side of the city was quiet. It would have been nice to see more people, especially after so long, but I didn't mind all too much. It was nice just to appreciate the city for what it was.
Biting into the crisp potato chip, I looked down to the compact in my hand. My thumb rubbed the smooth, olive green top as I remembered its basic functions.
"I'm getting one?" My eyes glued to the compact.
First, I got to meet a Guide—someone who delivered souls!—and then I got my own Reikai-issued compact?! This was the coolest thing to happen in a while.
"Aiko said you wanted to help, so I'm here to give you a compact she can contact you with." The blue haired beauty smiled.
I was still in awe of her, struck by her unusual but still so natural colors, and couldn't form many words. I was far too overloaded with all the amazing stuff happening at the moment.
"The color flashing on the mirror indicates who's calling." She explained. "Mine will be pink, Aiko's is purple, and Suzume's is gold."
"So then mine is green." I grinned and looked at the cover, and she nodded.
I hadn't gotten to use it yet. Ideally, for the situation, I wouldn't have to.
"If I don't get out of there in eight hours, that's when you call for help," Aiko explained. We both knew that was a more than generous amount of time, but we needed it just in case. "If something happens to me, I'll send you an emergency call."
"How's that different from a normal call?" I asked.
"My color won't flash, it'll just stay there. The beeping will be erratic."
I nodded. "So that means call for back up and get in there to help you."
Upon the roof, I looked over the dealership that lay across the street. The staff left a good five hours ago, with who I assumed to be the boss leaving at roughly eight.
My free hand found its way into the bag again. I relished in the salty, succulent crunch of the chips I shoved in my mouth. I brushed the crumbs off my denim as I scoured the streets again. A few cars came by, but none of them stopped at the dealership.
Just as I finished the bag, I saw another pair of headlights in the distance. I wasn't too eager, since it may not be them again, but the car pulled up to the dealership's curb.
I ducked under the roof's ledge and peaked over it, feeling the rough cement scuff my denim and palms. I watched the back doors open, and they stepped out. I recognized Aiko's black kitten heels first, and locked my sight on her.
She was alert, but played it off well. After training with her for so long, I could read her body language much better than before. Though she was nervous, she was able to play it off because she knew I was watching over her. I was here; she wasn't alone.
They headed toward the glass building, weaving through the sea of cars.
It surprised me that they didn't stop at the main building, but instead headed to the back.
The mechanic's workshop.
When the four of them disappeared into the smaller building, I took a deep breath and looked at the watch on my wrist.
Eight hours, Aiko, I thought. Good luck. Stay safe.
Aiko.
The workshop, void like the dealership, was fairly small. It held three automobiles, all parked on car lifts at various heights. Natsume led us through the small customer service lobby and then into the garage floor. She rambled about various subjects—classes and fashion—as we stepped over loose cables, grease spots, and tool chests.
Natsume led us to another door, which was… a break room? It was fairly luxurious to be a break room, with the décor resembling her mother's office. But of course, that's what it was, with leather chairs, coffee tables, and a small kitchenette that held coffee and pastries during the day. Fake plants perched around the room and expensive-but-looked-inexpensive paintings hung from the walls.
Natsume stopped in the middle of the room and turned on her heels to face me. With one hand planted on her hip, she pointed the other behind me at the ceiling. Looking over my shoulder, I found a small, black eye in the sky: a security camera.
Despite being recorded plenty of times in the dealership, tonight was different. I didn't know what route this would take. Unease rumbled in my stomach.
"The cameras stop here, but you've been recorded," she said.
"Okay…" I glanced back to her.
"When it's reviewed, officials will be under the assumption you've participated. So you won't be able to leave if you don't."
"Participate in...?"
"Tonight, I'm going to show you more of the truth." She smiled. "In hopes of making your conscious and worry about hurting them disappear."
My front teeth bit into the inside of my bottom lip, sparking a dull pain.
"I know actually doing it is much harder than just saying you could do it." She nodded. "But you proved you can handle it, and with more exposure, you can get over it."
Not again…
"And so, I'm taking this risk on you," she said. "So you'll have to take part."
"What happens if I don't?" I asked.
Honestly, what could be worse than what I'd already done?
She shrugged. "I'd have to kill you."
Breath caught in my throat, my stomach sunk deep inside me.
She laughed, walking towards me. "What? You didn't see that cliché coming?" She cupped my face in her hands, smiling down at me. "It's protocol. What I show you here, you have to be an active—but silent—part of, else you disappear off the face of all three realms."
I couldn't think of a safe response. I clamped my lips shut and stared at her.
"And trust me," she said, patting my cheek as she let go of my face. "Reikai knows how to make everything go their way."
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I made sure my voice stayed steady and my tone innocently curious. "What is this, then?"
"Like I said: the truth. What we do to protect our realm." She walked to the opposite wall.
I looked around the room again, wondering what we could do in such a small breakroom. My eyes landed on the colorful painting Natsume stopped in front of. I noticed it hung awful high now that she was in front of it.
It reminded me of a Monet, and in fact… I was sure it was. I couldn't help but think I saw the painting before in an Art History class.
Women in the Garden. It hung about a foot over her head.
She reached for the wall, slipping her hand behind one of the fake plants. I leaned over a bit to see what she was reaching for: a small dent in the wall, curled inward slightly. Her fingers curled into the dent and a blue light shone from the interior. There was a small click, and she planted her feet firmly in the nice carpet as she pulled on the dent.
She heaved the wall—no, the door—and it slid open to reveal a long, steep staircase. The only light were the tiny bulbs lining the stairs along the wall.
She looked over her shoulders to me with an excited grin as Hayashi and Fukui headed into the staircase. "Welcome to our operation's floor."
Natsume stepped inside next, and before I followed suit, I felt myself looking up at the Monet once more. With a frown and furrowed brows, I stepped into the darkness.
The descent felt long, which could have been from the building anxiety in my chest. They stayed close in front of me, descending with routine leisure in the pale yellow lighting. Soon, the yellow lighting dimmed, overpowered by the large rectangle of light in the distance.
Stepping out of the staircase, I winced at the pain of my eyes adjusting. Uniformed men were the first to meet my clear gaze. Their dark attire resembled that of decorated officers, with their berets shadowing their faces.
The only thing scarier than their above-average build and obvious trained-in-combat aura was the fact they looked like clones of each other.
A crude taste crept up the back of my throat at the sight of them, and the one on the left spoke first.
His voice was hard and leveled. "Protocol, Miss Natsume."
"Yeah, yeah," she said flippantly, waving her hand at them. She then latched onto my shoulder. "Right here."
I followed her gaze and my eyes landed on a little device planted on the wall I just passed. Next to the staircase was a strange panel, it reminded me of an intercom system at apartments. Instead of a speaker, it just had a black screen.
"Place your hand on it," she said. "It'll scan your ki and hand-print."
"You didn't, though," I noted.
"The door upstairs does it," she replied, patting me on the back and nudging me to the panel.
It unnerved me for them to have my prints, but I tried calming myself by remembering I'd touched many a things without gloves around them. I placed my hand on the panel, and let it glow a soft purple. The silver panel flickered a red light, and then a red line scanned from the tip of my fingers to the bottom of my palm.
And then I was done.
"Hojo, Aiko," Natsume said to the guards, jabbing her thumb at me. Hayashi and Fukui were next to sign in. "Hopefully a wonderful addition to our operation."
The guards stepped forward, and I stopped myself from taking an instinctual step back. Natsume said to "stand straight" and "not worry." I tensed as the two neared us, and I clenched my jaw as one's hands gripped my shoulders.
Heavy, rough hands frisked me from top to bottom, and I held my breath. After patting my ankle, gripping it tightly for a brief second, he stood and nodded to his comrade. I breathed a quiet, heavy sigh of relief as he moved on to Hayashi.
After checking our purses, they cleared us, and Natsume led the way.
She weaved us through shiny, silver metal hallways. Small plaques on the doors with equally small print were readable, sparkling clean even, under the fluorescent lighting. There were no security cameras, but in the crevices of the ceiling and walls, every couple of yards, were the little papers I'd been searching for.
Their parchment blended in nicely with the walls despite the difference in colors. Their writing, bold and black in hentaigana with varying characters, stood out strikingly once noticed.
Finally, we stopped at a door that Natsume might as well have chosen because she felt like it.
The red print on the black plaque red: 108A.
Natsume dug in her back pocket and pulled out a thin card. She swiped it through the small machine next to the door, and it clicked before sliding open.
"This room contains our newest batch," she said, looking over her shoulder to me. "We're pretty sure most of them came through the tunnel Sensui opened."
She flipped the light switch on her left as she walked inside, and I paused to take in the sight of what seemed to be an office cubical. No—it wasn't. The observation window across from us ruined the office aesthetic.
Nervous, I walked to the window, ignoring the desk, high-tech computer, and file cabinets as I passed them. My legs slowed as I neared the glass, and they stopped when I registered what lay on the other side.
A chill washed over me. This was the observation room—that was the operation floor.
Stained, dingy-white walls, and a calcified, moldy tiled floor. A surgical table lay in the middle of the room, above what resembled a shower drain. I didn't understand…
As fear crept into my chest, my eyes drifted to the talismans in the crevices of the ceiling and walls to the two doors inside the room. Two heavy, cement doors lay in the walls across from and adjacent to the window.
The room held an eerie resemblance to the past; technology seemed to disappear beyond the glass.
I opened my mouth to speak, but my voice was far too scared to show itself. After a few patient, jaw-gaping seconds, it came out.
Quiet and timid, though it was. "What is this place?"
"This is a War Criminal Interrogation Camp," she replied. "In these rooms, we use tactics to extract information from war criminals."
"Tactics," I repeated, staring at the rusted edges of the surgical table.
"Yeah." She smirked. "They're not exactly… conventional."
"And the Geneva Conventions don't matter," I whispered.
"Because they're not human," she agreed just as quietly.
"I didn't know we were in a war with them," I said.
"It's like a cold war," she said. "The tunnel incident with Sensui? He may have orchestrated the one that got close to doing its job, but it's a common idea among the filth. If enough of them congregate or find another youkai that can create a tunnel like that again, it'll happen."
"But it hasn't," I noted.
"Because we've been doing our fucking job." She shrugged. "We interrogate anyone suspected of trying to open a portal—or caught opening a portal. Often, we execute them. We catch a lot of illegals in the act. A lot of them have connections or ideologies that are dangerous to Ningenkai."
That didn't justify the creepy torture chamber.
"Remember, Aiko," she said. "We're their food source. We're the prey, and we have to do all we can to keep our realm and people safe." She walked up behind me as I continued looking out at the operation floor. She squeezed my shoulders, and I tensed as the fabric of my t-shirt bunched up.
She leaned on me and rested her head on mine. "I'll show you how we do it. I won't make you ask any questions this time."
She squeezed my arms again and then let go. She stepped beside me and reached for a file on the desk. Picking one up, she plucked a small photograph from the file. She showed it to Hayashi, who nodded and headed for the door to the floor.
I watched Hayashi walk across the floor. She pushed her weight against the far door to open it before disappearing into the darkness behind it.
"Other officials already interrogated them through 'conventional' means," Natsume said. "You're just going to help me convince them to talk."
"And if they don't?" I asked, watching Hayashi return to the floor with a prisoner in tow.
"We kill them."
He resembled a wildcat. He would have passed for human if not for one trait—albeit strikingly noticeable: his face. It protruded outward, elongated, with a flat nose and curled lips.
But even the change in species didn't numb my empathy at the sight of him bound in chains. The thought of having to hurt him scared me rigid. A soft static hummed in the back of my head.
Natsume waited for me to speak, watching my mouth tremble. I panicked, and thought of something useless.
"I don't want to ruin my clothes."
She laughed. Hard. "Don't worry! We haven't gotten them in yet, but they're making optional liquid-resistant body suits."
She tugged on my arm, still laughing, and guided me to the door that would lead me to the youkai.
"It can get a bit repetitious, interrogating… executing," she continued, sighing in content from finishing her fit. "After a while, you want to try spicing it up."
The youkai caught my eyes when we stepped through the door. Hayashi, holding his talisman-laced chains loosely with one hand, reached under the surgical table with the other and flipped a switch. It lost its rigidity. It bent in the middle, caving inward, and Hayashi guided it to turn into a chair.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"I like to listen to music."
All the while, the youkai hadn't even bothered to fight back. He stood there with a fierce determination in his eyes that said he wouldn't speak no matter their tactics.
Thin fingers wrapped around my wrist to guide me to the door on the adjacent wall. I couldn't take my eyes off him as Hayashi sat him in the chair and adjusted his hands behind the back.
Bright gold eyes met my dull brown, and I tried sending him a silent message: I'm sorry.
As if he understood my longing eye contact, and didn't care for my excuses, he turned away from me. An icy chill washed over my cheeks in guilt, and I looked back to Natsume to find the room she led me to.
I eyed the walls and my heart beat faster, harder, than before. Weapons littered them—maces, knives, swords, scalpels, tongs, forceps… Every kind of weapon aside from firearms was in this room.
"Pick your poison," she purred, walking past me. "I'm feeling… hot tonight."
She knelt by one of the shelved walls and reached into a corner. She lifted a red, plastic gas can into my sight. My face stung at the touch of the warm air in the room.
I had to think of something—anything. Anything to keep Natsume from killing him. Could I persuade him to lie and convince Natsume he was telling the truth? How I could do this without outing myself?
Would it even save him? Even if he talked, would she still kill him?
"Here." Her voice jogged me back to reality, and I found her standing in front of me, hand extended to me. "I know this is new and scary, but if you could break the last one's spine, you can do this."
In her hand was a particularly decorated knife.
"It was the kind used by soldiers in the second World War. Slices clean through; makes everything smooth and easy."
I couldn't seem to bring myself to grab the knife, but I knew I had to. I had to. I had to...
"Thanks for… understanding." I managed a small smile, clenching it in my numb hand.
She laughed. "Don't worry. It only took me a little while to get used to it, but then again, I grew up attending the Dark Tournament annually. I know it'll take a while for you to handle seeing all the gore."
I swallowed a hard lump in my throat and gave a nervous chuckle. "Yeah. I've talked about doing this for so long, but I guess I'm scared of seeing a lot of blood."
She patted my shoulder and nudged me to leave the room. "You'll get used to it."
I followed her back onto the floor, and she closed the weapon's room door behind me. Stepping up next to me, she adjusted her grip on the gas can.
"I'll ask him one last time," she said quietly. "If he refuses to speak, I'll tell you what to do."
I nodded and took a deep, silent breath as we neared the war prisoner.
She set the gas can behind him, and began rounding his chair. "So, you want to explain yourself one last time?" She stopped in front of him, planting her hands on her hips. "I'm giving you a chance—something I never do for things like you."
"Like I said," he growled, his baritone voice ragged and tired. "I don't know what you're talking about."
She rammed her foot into his groin, and as he screamed, a familiar tune echoed throughout the floor. It was a popular song back in the day, one of my father's favorites—sung by everyone's heartthrob twins.
I looked to the dark-tinted observation window. Hayashi, her frame barely visible, leisurely flipped through a magazine as The Cashew's "Don't Turn Around" played. ***
"You mean to tell me you don't know how you and your entire fucking mob ended up with a bunch of artifacts used to enhance ki?" she snapped. "As you all tried opening another fucking tunnel?"
"We wanted to leave this realm!" he said with a booming voice. "I don't remember anything about any artifacts!"
"You're not supposed to be here to begin with!" she seethed and twisted her foot deeper into his groin. "You came here illegally and then you say you wanted to just leave?"
He gritted his teeth to spite her. If he wasn't screaming, she wasn't enjoying.
Her nostrils flared and she glanced to me. "Figured it would end this way—it always does. Let's start."
"What... should I do?" I replied, gesturing to the knife.
"I'll tell you what to do," she replied, staring him down. He returned the glare with a fervent one of his own. "Cut off his jaw."
My heart stopped, and I stared at her.
"You want your arm bitten off when you do other shit?" she snapped, head cocking to the side. She repeated herself, slowly emphasizing each word. "Cut off his fucking jaw."
There were times when people talked about "out of body experiences." While I'd experienced that before, this time was strangely different. I didn't leave my body, but I became numb, depersonalized. I wasn't me anymore. Even the youkai's vicious glare wasn't enough to pull me back. His low growl melded with the music, mixed with my heartbeat.
As I watched myself stare down at him, I realized I couldn't hear the music well anymore. His never-ending growl and my heartbeat were more prominent.
Say something, please! I'll back you up!
The throbbing moved from my throat to my head, and I tried to silently tell him how sorry I was. I tried telling him that if he could just lie, I would back him up. Whether he couldn't understand my lingering, pleading gaze, or his pride was in his way, his scowl didn't falter.
Say anything! Please!
My breathing grew heavier as the cheerful sixties tune continued. I found myself gently cupping his wide-set jaw. My grip on the knife tightened, and I blinked—a split second of darkness that seemed to last for hours. Comforting, it was; I thought I passed out, but I hadn't. I wished to return to it, because as consciousness crept upon me, I heard terrifying, agonizing screams.
My trembling hands were soaked, and one held something soft but firm, warm and wet.
I glanced down to find his jaw laying in my stained hands.
An entire row of sharp, large teeth protruded into the open air. Underneath them were the pastel pink, stained red gums that rooted them to the bone underneath the soft skin I held.
"Good job," Natsume cooed. "Now, I know you can't talk, but I'll let you use your expressions. You have one last chance to tell me. I'm being very generous, you know."
I looked up from the jaw to his face.
"Where and how did you get those artifacts?" she asked.
Please, just act like you'll give in! Just pretend! I'll back you up, just please...!
His tongue was long and pointed at the tip. It hung from the gaping, bloody mess of a hole where his mouth used to be. His eyes squinted in pain, teared up, but at Natsume's words he returned to mustering his best glare.
His top lip curled in disgust, tugging at the ragged tissue around his face, and his brows furrowed indignantly.
Natsume shrugged and turned to me. "What do you want to do?"
"I—I…" Something.
Anything.
Just don't kill him.
My hand loosened its grip and the jaw dropped to the floor with a disgusting splat.
"Skin him," she ordered impatiently through clenched teeth.
I figured I lost it—I finally snapped, because surely my hands couldn't be moving on their own. Bloody palms trembled violently, gripped the knife tightly. One hand rested atop his matted black hair, and the other pointed the tip of the knife at his hair line.
I... I could blow the mission now, and save him and whoever else was in the back room... or I could do this, and work towards making sure it would someday never happen again.
His screams died down, and as I fought with myself, our breathing synced. Each deep breath, each heavy inhale, mirrored. I looked him in the eyes—his bloodshot, red-rimmed, golden eyes—and tried to tell him through my dull brown that I was sorry.
I was sorry. So, so, so sorry.
I tried telling him I was doing this to prevent this from ever happening again. I tried telling him I was sorry I had to do this to prevent it from happening again.
I was so…so… so sorry...
And whether he closed his eyes because he understood my silent plea, or because he gave up, I would never know. I would never know anything about him.
I pressed the tip into his skin, and he tried, albeit to no avail, containing the whimpers of pain from leaking out his throat. My body moved on autopilot, scarily instinctual. My hand dragged the blade down his forehead until the knife reached the brow. I paused only to notice the trails of blood seeping out the cut and pouring down his face.
I dug the knife into his cut and shifted it to slide under his skin. Pinching the skin up, the knife glided under it with ease. Thin, watery strings of tissue snapped under the blade as I guided the skin from his muscles.
Dry eyes—blinked. Heartbeat pounded in my ears as I found myself doing the same to his entire face.
"Is your silence worth it?!" Natsume walked around him like a cat circling a mouse.
Blinked again just to not see what I was doing. Just to return to the darkness and escape my actions for even a few seconds.
His neck.
"The ones you want to protect don't care you're a martyr!"
Again.
His shoulders.
"You're a pawn in the game! Your silence means nothing to them."
Again.
I couldn't… Finally, my brain agreed to stop sending messages to my arms. I dropped the knife, and as it clattered on the floor, I stared at the horror of what I'd done.
Staggered breathing. Tunnel vision.
"How sad," she cooed, stopping behind his chair. She leaned over the back and let her hands touch his…
No skin. Pooling trails of blood spilled down his face and traveled down his otherwise untouched body. Muscles spasmed, they twitched along his face, pulsed on his neck.
Black again.
"Your pride was all for naught." Natsume poured gasoline on him, making a point to spill it down his throat.
Again—don't open your eyes!
She gripped his hair and yanked his head back.
Again—stay in the darkness, for god's sake!
"Your body will be a message to them." Zippo lighter held above the hole in his face. "We do whatever we can to protect ourselves."
I couldn't close my eyes; they glued to the little flame above him.
This is a bad dream. A bad dream. A bad dream. Wake up!
She let it drop. I watched as she let go of his hair and the open flame fell into his wound. A wave of fire crawled out of the hole, engulfing him instantly. It spread like wildfire, encompassing the soaked tissue.
I couldn't tell if he was screaming. I couldn't imagine why he wouldn't—but I couldn't hear anything. Not my breathing, not my heartbeat, not the music, not his screams.
My knees buckled as a putrid stench filled the room.
Darkness came again—a swift answer to my prayer—as I crumpled to the ground.
A/N:
*Fuyōka no Makai Shokubutsu is also called the Demon World's Floating Leaf Plant. We see Kurama use it in his Youko form when they fall into Makai chasing after Sensui. It said it's used more as a glider, but it carried them a pretty far ways in Makai so I think Kurama would know how to use it to fly if needed.
** 100 km is roughly 62 miles.
*** "Don't turn around" is translated from the real song title Furimukanaide.