NO NEW LEADS, the headlines on Silas's phone screamed. Then again, what did he expect? He clicked on some of the articles anyway, skimming through to while away the bus journey. When he was done, he went into his messages and stared at the last message he had sent to Dax. The one that had gone unanswered.
My_Number [2022.12.12 12:32]: But instead, let's try and hang out before we both go back to our homes for Christmas.
He wouldn't normally have been worried at the lack of response. In Dax's own words, he was pretty antisocial, so Silas was used to waiting a few days for replies. But when that had happened in the past, he'd at least see Dax around, in the school corridors or on the grounds.
Not this time, though.
The last he knew, Dax had been going to the forest at the edge of the school to collect soil samples or something of that nature. He also knew that when Dax hadn't turned up for homeroom the next morning, the alarm had been raised. But at first, it had been believed that perhaps he'd gotten into difficulty in the forest, that he was sick or injured but would ultimately be found.
He had not been found.
And then Yori had disappeared.
Silas didn't know Yori as well as he knew Dax, even though unlike Dax, Yori was in his year group. But that disappearance had been unsettling, especially since he'd been last seen in a convenience store. Somewhere much more visible and public than the forest. Were they connected? Some people said no, because the circumstances had been very different, and so too were the boys in question.
But some people said yes, because they were both boys. Because they were both short. Because they both had pink hair.
Because they both went to Hope's Peak.
But that's all it is, Silas thought to himself, it's just conjecture. Nobody knows anything. Which was probably why nobody seemed particularly worried about it. But am I worried about it? Silas was concerned for Dax, obviously. He was someone that he got along with, near enough a friend. And even though Yori wasn't a friend, he didn't want anything bad to happen to him, either. But he hadn't decided yet, whether he should be truly, deeply worried. If he should be scared at all. Once more information came out, he'd be hopefully be able to decide that.
But hopefully, they'll be found soon, and then it won't matter what conclusions I come to.
He heard the name of his bus stop on the announcements and readied himself to get off the bus. Making sure that he had his bag (it would be really annoying if he ended up forgetting the tools on the bus, especially as they were new replacements), he let an old lady and a mother with a baby in a buggy off in front of him, before hopping down himself.
The bar where the band he was helping out were performing tonight did have a shortcut through alleyways, but he opted for the slightly longer route through the main roads, just in case. He was going to be early anyway. However, just as he walked past a café, he thought he heard a mewling coming from the alleyway, and he hesitated. He stared down it, noting that there were light fixtures in place, and that the café had windows that looked out onto the alleyway. Plus, it wasn't completely dark, not yet.
Silas took a step forward and called out in Japanese:
"Hello?"
The sound didn't come again, so he waited a moment longer, then said:
"Here, kitty, kitty. Come here."
He went to the nearest bin, lifted the lid, and was only greeted with the sight and smell of rubbish. He grimaced and shut the lid quickly, and decided he was being foolish. He didn't want to be late, so he decided to just turn back.
But then, he sensed someone staring at him.
Silas froze. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up on end. He glanced over his shoulder, but not far enough to see who was watching, if he was justified in the sudden dread that coursed through him. All he saw was a shadow. But surely, if this was a person with benign intent, they'd call out? Think, he said to himself, think. He could hardly go down further into the alleyway, that would be a dead end, but to face the person…
He reached for the inner pocket of his jacket, his hand closing around the handle. The grindaknívur wasn't the type of knife meant for fighting or for harming other people. But if he was in danger, it surely could be forgiven. So, he kept his hand in his pocket, tightly clenching his grindaknívur and all too ready to brandish it, as he slowly turned around.
Everything after that happened so fast, he wasn't sure what happened. All he knew was that when he turned, the shadow disappeared and was suddenly behind him, in the alleyway, before hands grabbed him. One wrapped tightly around his body so that he could not move his arms to pull out the knife, another hand clamped over his mouth. And he kicked, and he struggled as best as he could.
But it was no use.
The grindaknívur is a whaling knife, traditionally used in Faroese whale hunts. These whale hunts are controversial, as you can imagine, but also considered part of the culture in the Faroe Islands, where Silas is from.
Anyway, I promise there will be a main-story chapter coming next. I have been working away at it, a little at a time. So...hopefully soon. We'll just have to wait and see =D
