Author's Note: Back with another chunk of the story! Updates for this fic will probably be a little on the slower side, but I am planning on finishing it. Suggestions, tips, and criticisms are welcome in the review box, as are compliments! Hope you like it :)
Tomio, Miyako thought dimly, cracking open her eyes. Stone met her—stone and splintered wood.
"Uhh," she groaned, attempting to shift onto her side. Finding herself unable, Miyako registered that she was pinned under a collapsed column.
"God, no," she moaned, trying to kick her legs.
The rubble shifted slightly, surprising Miyako.
I can still feel my legs, she realized, relief flooding her system. She wouldn't die here, pinned until some wandering Kabane came along and made a meal of her.
If I do this right, I should be able to pull myself out from under this, she thought. No, not if, she corrected. When, because I will get out of this mess. I will, because I need to find Tomio and protect him.
Bracing her arms against the ground, Miyako pulled one leg, then two, from under the collapsed stone, her teeth gritted until the last toe came loose.
— — —Something was very wrong with her.
After somehow maneuvering herself out from under the station rubble, Miyako realized that—her fever finally gone—her skin had turned an ugly shade of pale, and her hair—upon examination and after plucking a few strands—had apparently turned white. Unable to find any mirrors in the station, Miyako had ventured through town, since the Kabane seemed to have all but deserted the place after the remaining humans had fled or been eaten. Her feet carried her back to her home where she'd last seen her parents, smiling jovially as they waved their children off to play tag.
Upon arriving, Miyako realized that the blood splatters were exactly as she'd last seen them, with the addition of a few in the courtyard. She found herself unable to examine them, instead just collapsing into a crying heap beside them, angry and despaired when she realized that her parents' bodies were missing.
Monsters! she thought, sobbing. They ate the entire bodies, not leaving a single shred for me to mourn!
After her crying subsided, Miyako wandered into her room again and checked the small mirror she'd owned. When she registered the figure in the glass, she flinched back in shock, then crept forwards again, raising a hand to her face to confirm that the pale, red-eyed girl she saw was indeed herself. Her hair—previously a warm shade of brown—had blanched in color even more than her skin and taken on an airy, gossamer feel. Her blue eyes—the eyes her mother had passed down to her, the ones that reminded her of the strong woman—were now a piercing red, dark and bloody.
I—I'm a monster, she realized, putting down the mirror. Although the bites on her shoulders and arms had healed—surprisingly fast but well—that didn't change the fact that Miyako now looked the part of an entirely new person. It was when she was examining her arm, however, that Miyako found the first sign of danger: her vein seemed, rather than dark against her pale skin, light, almost as if they shone.
God, no, she thought, stripping off her clothes in her panic. If there was one thing to confirm or disprove her fears, it would be that glowing organ in her chest…
And it glowed like a sun in a dark sky of despair.
— — —She was a Kabane.
Miyako finally understood why the guards told her brother to get away from her. She would have told him to too if she'd known what was happening at the time. Clearly, the Kabane passed their condition—or whatever it was—around through their bites, which would explain why the town was filled with bloodstains but missing bodies. Everyone who'd been bitten and died had turned into Kabane, including her parents. Her only consolation was that Tomio was still alive somewhere out there, having avoided the fate of being turned into a Kabane like his sister.
There was, however, a flaw in this logic: Miyako didn't feel like a Kabane. She looked like one, yes, and possessed their characteristic strength, speed, and stamina, but she hadn't become a mindless monster. Her necklace, tight as it was, separated her relatively human-looking head from the glowing veins crawling over her body.
Was that it? she wondered, feet beating a steady rhythm against the train tracks. Walking on the train tracks was dangerous, sure, but Miyako wasn't afraid of running into trains; she'd be lucky to run into one, even if it ran her over. Was the tightness of the necklace the separator between my being a human and a Kabane?
Such seemed rather dumb—simple. There was clearly still blood beating into her head, or why was she still alive? A better tell was the question as to whether or not Miyako hungered for human blood, and that was a definite no. However, Miyako was also acutely aware that she hadn't felt like eating human food in well over a day. Did that mean—
No. I'm not a Kabane, she thought fiercely. I'm Hishima Miyako, and I'm out looking for my brother, Tomio, to protect him.
Her feet beat on.
— — —She definitely was a Kabane, Miyako realized, heaving up the onigiri she'd forced down. The only "appetizing" part of the previously well-loved food was the tuna inside, and even that seemed too off for her newly sensitive stomach.
I want something heavier. Less salty, more iron-filled, she thought, bile creeping up her throat as the thoughts registered. I'm becoming a monster.
She coughed, then gurgled water in an attempt to rid her throat of the threatening burning sensation.
No, I can't become a Kabane, she thought stiffly, clutching at the pendant at her neck and squeezing. I need to protect Tomio.
— — —Tomio's out there somewhere, Miyako thought with a smile, journeying on along the tracks. Her goofy younger brother—naive and clueless as he was—continued to breathe somewhere down the train track. His smile was what kept Miyako going forwards, step after step.
Her body healed quickly now, and she'd taken the liberty of cleaning herself up when she remembered how the Kabane had behaved around blood—like crazed sharks, frenzied by bloodlust. Without the metallic scent of blood clinging onto her like a red flag, the Kabane she passed failed to notice her until she made her presence known to them. This allowed Miyako to pick and choose her battles—most of which she opted to let pass rather than fight since her priority was travel.
I need blood too now, she thought with a shiver of disgust. Repeated attempts at keeping down various foods—greens, grains, dairy—had solidified this fact, and Miyako had been horrified to find that her "favored" food had been a slab of fresh meat still sitting in a pile of blood.
Despite being a few days old, and despite the sickeningly sweet smell of near-rot wafting up from it, the bloody, coagulated mess had sung to her appetite like no other. Her first bite had been heaven until her hazy, energy-deprived mind cleared itself enough for her to spit the piece back out before she doubled over, retching in disgust.
Failing to eat, however, was a dreadful mistake Miyako learned the hard way. It was a ticking time bomb whose warning blips Miyako had tried to smother with ignorance. The first time her Kabane side flared up, Miyako thought she'd blacked out. That is, until she realized that she'd ended up devouring a streetside dog in her hunger, her blood-soaked hands dyed as red as the mangled body lying prone at her feet when her consciousness returned.
After that, Miyako was careful to bring food along with her at all times—food being meat, but never fresh. Finding prepared meats in abandoned towns was the easy part of her meal, despite how rare they came, and the girl always dreaded having to eat. Dried and salted meats made her stomach churn, but she was able to keep them down after some practice. She was sure her body was a wreck after consuming meal after nausea-inducing meal, but Miyako didn't care about that at this point. She was alive and moving, and the Kabane inside her would have to get used to it.
Still, her new status wasn't without any benefits either, and the powers she gained were arguably worth the humanity she gave up if the power to protect Tomio meant anything in that respect. Her strength, speed, and senses were clearly above that of the Kabanes'. Her stamina, too, had seen an exponential increase, and Miyako had already seen her new healing factor.
The human me was unable to protect Tomio, she thought, adjusting the bag on her shoulder as she trekked on. But now, as a Kabane, I'm strong enough to protect him properly.
— — —She was running—her own fault, really, although the shock factor of being chased by a glowing-eyed Kabane had long since worn off. Having unwisely chosen to attempt to sneak past a Kabane clearly starved for blood, Miyako wasn't all too surprised when it had let out a roar and given chase. The Kabane—a hefty fella, perhaps in his mid-thirties or so—would perhaps have been a father in life. In death, however, he was no more than a mere animated slab of hunger, a caged heart shining of life in death.
This is really annoying, Miyako thought, continuing to run at a brisk pace down the length of the track. The Kabane in pursuit was pretty fast for a moving puppet of meat, and she was beginning to feel the chewing edges of hunger herself. However, opening the box of dried jerky would only serve to enrage the trailing monster, and although Miyako was sure that Kabane only frenzied over fresh meat—the fresh, sharply metallic scent doing wonders for their psyche—she also knew that the scent of meat, even dried and near-bloodless—was enough to catch a hungry Kabane's attention. And the one behind her was hungry indeed.
Spotting an abandoned outpost—that was the assumption these days since all buildings were abandoned—Miyako swerved, running towards the building. Once she was close enough, she jumped, latching onto the edge of the roof. Wrapping her fingers securely around the overhang, she swung her body into the air, completing a perfect arc midair and landing on both feet. Such feats of athleticism were easy for her nowadays, neither hard to execute nor repeat. It was another perk of being a Kabane—or half-Kabane, rather. Truth be told, Miyako had no idea what she was anymore, nor did she care. She thought like a human—wasn't that enough?
She laid flat on the roof, peeking over the edge to watch as the Kabane came running over, a snarl on its lips. Slobber leaked from one side of its face where it looked like the lower jaw had frozen up in a case of partial rigor mortis.
Are Kabane really dead, or are they slowly dying? Miyako wondered, not risking a breath in case her pursuer heard. The Kabane slowed, looking around carefully before wandering into the station and disappearing from sight. I should dispatch him now—while he's still alone.
It was an easy thought—"dispatching" the Kabane sounded simple, but in practice, it was to cut down a human-sized, human-shaped target that was previously a being that breathed, thought, and felt just as much as Miyako did. She may as well be cutting down herself—or an actual human.
Obviously, the same moral argument had run through her head many a time, each with a new array of factors, and each with its own nuances. The katana she had picked up felt like dead weight at her hip, weighing Miyako down both physically and mentally. She'd killed Kabane when she was protecting her brother, but that was out of self-defense. Here, now, she'd be killing to prevent—prevent what?
To prevent him from chasing me, Miyako thought, her hand clenching around the hilt of her blade. To prevent him from hurting someone else.
With that thought in mind, the girl felt around for a piece of the cracked roof, hurling the painted wood at the ground below her. The projectile rebounded off the ground with a hollow "thunk," stirring dust up in its wake as it fell back and settled. From inside the house, an array of rustling, banging, and crashing sounded before the Kabane came stumbling out of the entrance, snarling in fury as it looked around quickly for its prey.
I'm sorry, Miyako thought, dropping down from the roof and directly onto the Kabane, using its solid flesh to absorb the brunt of her impact. Her katana flashed through the air, catching sunlight as it arced towards the creature's pale neck. The tip vanished for a split-second, reappearing with a sliver of crimson as the Kabane's anger morphed into confusion. Surprise was etched over its features as its head fell back, its body careening forwards and falling at Miyako's feet with a dull "thump."
I—I did it! she thought, shock freezing her features as she pulled her blade in front of her to stare at the droplets of blood tracing its sides. She hadn't been sure as to whether or not she was strong enough to decapitate a man—speed had been her strong suit as a human, not strength—but it seemed that her new status had heightened her physical abilities enough to do just that.
Looking down at the body sprawled below her, inelegant and leaking blood as red as any human's, Miyako felt a growing sense of nausea claw at the interior of her stomach. She'd just killed a man—perhaps no longer a human, but a man nonetheless. Someone who once perhaps had a family, smiled and laughed with them, ruffling his son's hair affectionately or patting his daughter on the back comfortingly. The unnamed, unhonored, unknown person below her had a name that she would never learn, a life she would never hear, and a face she now couldn't bear to look at, let alone try and remember.
Turning on her heel, Miyako broke into a run, intent on getting away from her handiwork as fast as she could. Her katana was still at her side, splayed at the awkward angle she held it at as she ran, distance being her priority. Her mind was devoid of thought as her feet carried her further along the tracks, the straight, metal plates—parallel as they were—but a dark grey blur below her feet, catching sunlight she didn't register.
Her brother—he was out there, and she would find him. That was all that mattered.
— — —That Kabane preferred blood was apparent. Why they sought the viscous liquid, though, was a mystery that remained unanswered until Miyako finally decided to crouch down and examine one that she'd cut down. Decapitation was her method of choice, since their torsos had always seemed too tough a target for her swords. Her own body was the same, not that Miyako dared look at it much; her blood-soaked diet was enough reminder of her inhumanity. Picking through the remains of a stranger was nauseating in a different way, but less painful.
The area around the heart, upon inspection, appeared to be encased in webs of hardened iron, like a cage trapping in tatters of the human soul that previously inhabited the body. The smell, though, was what really clued her in; Kabane smelled like concentrated death—massacres' worth of blood coagulated into one body—but above all, they smelled like the blacksmith's, the metallic tang in the air around them cutting as clearly into Miyako's nose as the molten metal of the blacksmith's forge.
Iron—that was the key to the Kabane's glowing eyes and armored hearts. Blood contained iron, which the Kabane sought out to burn in their own biological forges, replenishing their energy and reinforcing the cage around their hearts.
However, through self-experimentation, Miyako had found that she could stomach meat, especially fresh, raw pieces dripping with blood. Kabane left bodies alone, but, when hungry enough, Miyako found that her body would lower its standards and accept flesh as well—likely because tissue still contained iron, although in smaller quantities. Eating meat didn't sate her the same way blood did, but with some self-discipline, Miyako was able to achieve near-optimum levels on meat when the forests thinned out. Sometimes dried or salted meats were all she had on hand, and stomach aches were nothing compared to aching hungers.
— — —Another tremor wracked through her, pants and gasps filling the air despite her efforts to smother them. She'd run out of meat—her own fault, having obstinately refused to stop at the last town to search for new rations. The sixty-seven-mile trek between the last town and the next had seemed manageable, especially since Miyako generally averaged around eighty miles or more per a day. Her new physicality made such feats an easy task, although she often pushed the distance to a hundred or so since every town had seemed more desecrated, less hopeful than the last. Sometimes she'd wondered if her brother really was still alive—what were the chances the train made it this far anyway? Its fuel tanks were limited, and the multitudes of Kabane were relentless.
Still, Miyako kept herself moving—hoping—by living on the assumption that, if the train had really succumbed to the molten-eyed armies, the girl would have found the empty, blood-splattered shell of the iron vehicle. That hope drove her, and it had lead her to her current situation, her hunger gnawing fiercely at her psyche. Her current pangs felt different from the previous ones; they were more insistent, less pleading than demanding. The Beast inside her roared its wants fiercely, its voice resounding off the recesses of her mind.
Blood! it shouted, pounding its fists. Flesh! Death!
No! Miyako thought, clutching her arms as another shudder shook through her. The pangs had rendered her immobile, and although the girl had managed to stumble off the open tracks and into the shadowed trees, if a Kabane happened to pass by right now, it would have a good chance at finding her. Her pants were stirring up a storm of sound, and she wouldn't be moving anytime soon.
Want food! the voice inside her demanded again, leaving no room for question. Want food now!
A cry of frustration ripped from her lips, animalian in sound. Her control slipped, and the girl found herself rising against her will, her limbs moving of their own accord. Mustering her strength, she threw herself against the nearest tree in an unsuccessful attempt to throw her body off balance so that she'd fall to the ground again. The voice inside her was surprised at the impact, and Miyako seized the chance to withdraw her blade, slapping her arm down on it. The searing pain of metal cutting into her flesh tore another cry from her lips, this one sounding of pain, frustration, and triumph as she finally gathered enough of her consciousness to crash herself back onto the ground.
Her success was short-lived, however; the metallic salt of blood incited a thrash from The Beast, and it broke through its weak bindings easily. Miyako's dripping arm went to her mouth, and her tongue lapped greedily at the warm liquid. Blood! The Beast sang joyfully, its volume blotting out Miyako's protests as her consciousness darkened.
NO! Miyako shouted, rising above the creature. The black-shrouded figure looked behind its shoulder, as if only now realizing that it wasn't alone. I'm in control here!
Using her free arm to jerk the bloodied one away from her mouth, Miyako tightened her grip on the wound, tearing a cry from both her and The Beast. The creature's molten eyes dimmed as it fell back, melting into the shadows behind the panting girl. Her arm stung fiercely, but she'd managed to retain her sanity.
It isn't closing up, Miyako realized, raising the wound and examining it carefully. Blood continued to flow freely, like a sickeningly sweet waterfall of life. Her exponentially faster healing rate was something that she'd had counted on whenever she was injured, but her current wound seemed to be as unresponsive as it would have been a few dozen Kabane bites ago.
Is it because I'm too hungry? she wondered. Pushing limits was not an option, it seemed. She would have to be more careful in the future.
A rustle sounded behind her—over thirty meters away, but in her agitated state it may as well have been right next to her. Her eyes pierced through the darkness, zeroing in on a frightened doe that had frozen in its tracks, realizing the danger.
I'm sorry, Miyako whispered silently, her body already darting towards the warm flesh, the savory blood pumping through arteries and veins.