mission report for clipsie (part 3 of 7)

[capn_planet]

Back to Part 2


"Masayuki!"

Taichi opened the door to their room with more force than he'd thought, the heavy wood striking the nearby bed and echoing throughout their small living space.

Sakamoto popped up from his own bed, hair mussed and a woven imprint on his cheek, piles of books still surrounding him atop the unmade sheets.

Taichi paused a moment in the entryway. "...have you been asleep?"

"Of course not!" Sakamoto sat up all the way, hand calming his hair before he was hastily looking around for whichever book he'd been reading and re-finding his place.

"Did you even go to class today?"

"Y-... yes!"

Taichi narrowed his eyes, but said nothing more on the matter. Instead, he kicked off his shoes and walked all the way inside, making sure the door was closed before speaking up.

"Asaka can get us in room 413."

"Really?!" Sakamoto flew around to face Taichi in his new position in the room, knocking a few books off his bed in the process.

"There's a key-rack in the back room of the Wicker office that has keys for all the rooms, from storage closets, to the boiler room, and even the rooms up on the fourth floor. She works in the office, so she has access to them."

"Perfect, perfect." Sakamoto grinned, hand coming up to his chin and finger massaging his bottom lip.

Taichi let his bookbag thump to the floor. "All we have to do is show up when she's working and she'll give us the key."

"Did she happen to mention the next time she worked?"

"Tomorrow, two to six."

"Then tomorrow we make our move." The corners of Sakamoto's mouth curled up in a grin. The cat had cornered its mouse.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"One key, comin' right up."

Sakamoto, Nagano, Taichi, and Tatsuya stood gathered in the main office at Wicker, nervous, a little jumpy, but strangely exhilarated. Sakamoto had his hand on the front desk, incessantly tapping his fingers. Taichi kept pulling his glasses off to clean them on the front of his shirt. Nagano was rocking back and forth on his feet, heel-toe, heel-toe. Tatsuya had his hands stuffed in his pockets, lips pressed together in a tight line.

They watched Asaka meander off towards the back room, then the sound of metal, small tinny objects clanging together as she shifted through a drawer of some kind. Taichi glanced over at Sakamoto, who set his jaw tight with an off-kilter grin. When Asaka came back, she had a small gold key pressed between her thumb and index finger.

"I believe this is what you gentlemen are looking for?"

By all means, it looked the same as any other key. Taichi was rotating it between his fingers as they walked up the narrow staircase. The metal was scratched in a few places, rust littering its edges, but the etched-in "413" on its face was still readily legible, burning into his retinas.

They were silent as they ascended the staircase, no noise but their feet tromping up the metal steps, echoing through the stairwell. Sakamoto was the first to the top, stepping out into the lonely hallway of the fourth floor before the other three joined him. The soft beams of light drifting in through the boarded up windows made the long, empty hallway seem entirely different than the night they'd snuck up before. Gone was the trepidation in Taichi's gut, the sinking feeling of horror, the crushing darkness around them.

It almost seemed.

Safe.

He rubbed the key between his fingers, letting out the breath he hadn't even known he'd been holding.

"Home again, home again." Tatsuya's voice bit through the silence, relieving the built-up tension that'd been buzzing between them.

"If you're a serial killer, maybe." Taichi rolled his eyes.

"Isn't that why we're up here?" Nagano this time, his voice sharp, but soft.

They began walking through the hall. The strange twisting feeling Taichi'd felt the last time they'd walked this same corridor was gone. Dust fluttered through the air as they passed each window, the beams of light from between the shoddy old boards flashing in his eyes, both aggravating yet comforting at the same time.

It didn't take them long to reach the room. 413. In the same state they'd last left it. A normal door in the corridor, nothing off about its texture, its frame, its handle. An ordinary door.

Taichi felt the tiniest of prickles poke at his hand as he looked at it. He could still remember it. The heat. Boiling around his fingers.

Yet somehow the door seemed different now, here in the light. Old. Run-down. The number peeling off and the door knob rusted.

He held the key up in front of the door, backdropping it with the small golden piece of metal.

"So, we doin' this?" Sakamoto. Taichi glanced over with a firm little nod, handing him the key.

Then the three of them held their breath as they watched, Sakamoto swallowing loudly as he brought the key to the door knob. It slid in easily, like a glove. As if the two had been made for each other. "Here we go, boys." One last breath. He closed his eyes for a moment before reopening them and turning the key.

It opened with a click.

The simplest little sound. A tinny racket that seemed both muffled and amplified by the dusty hallway.

Then a creak. The door inched its way open, hinges caked with rust and disuse. It seemed darker inside, foreboding, yet beckoning, a strange heavy shadow both tangible and transient.

"...it's open."

Taichi raised an eyebrow, not even bothering to turn towards Nagano. "That's what keys do."

They stared at it for a good long minute, nobody quite wanting to take that first step into the gloom beyond the half-open door. The air stilled around them, thick now, difficult to breathe. Finally, Tatsuya took a step forward, pushing open the door with his hand as it let out another creak, swinging all the way open.

"We didn't come here just to look at it." He stepped all the way inside.

Not to be outdone, Sakamoto was quick to follow, disappearing into the shadows after him. Then Nagano and Taichi glanced at each other, jaws tight, before making their ways inside.

It was a normal room.

The nearby window was boarded up similar to those in the hallway, only allowing thin beams of light into the dim room. The walls were white-painted wood, the same as those in the rooms below their feet, and the floor was a cold, cracked tile. It was completely empty, beds and rugs that normally graced dormitory rooms gone missing, and the lived-in warmth of a decorated home, no matter how small, was nowhere to be found. It was like a room during the summer, when students were off enjoying lazy days by the beach or gaining real-world work experience through internships. Abandoned and waiting for its next owner, someone new to decorate its walls and fill it with life once more.

Only this room would never house students again.

"Hmm..." Tatsuya made a strange noise of uncertainty in the back of his throat as he glanced around, hands still in his pockets.

"This is Garner Cuttle's room?" Taichi wiped his glasses off on his shirt before replacing them atop his nose, eyes narrowing once, then twice.

"Not much to it." Nagano ran a hand over the nearby wall, fingers leaving trails in the dust. "Looks pretty much just like my room when I moved in."

Sakamoto'd been standing in the middle of the room, simply looking around. He rubbed at his eyes, tired almost, then slowly began trekking around the perimeter, eyes trailing up and down the length of each wall he passed, the window, the closet, the sink. It was all covered in heavy layers of dust, discolored from age and neglect, but aside from that, quite normal, just as the door had appeared from the outside.

A normal. Almost livable. Room.

"This is really 413, right?" Tatsuya laughed, voice stark and crackling with empty air. He sounded strangely far-off. "I mean, we didn't open the wrong room by mistake, right?"

"The key wouldn'ta worked otherwise." Taichi shrugged, his own voice sounding nasally, almost grating on his ears.

"Very strange." Sakamoto was bent down in the corner, running his finger across the whitewall and examining the miniature pile of dust that built up on his fingertip. His voice sounded like a bell chiming, ringing in their ears.

"There's nothing weird about it at all." Nagano sounded like a flute, a weird mix of strange notes and off-key pitches reverberating past his vocal cords.

Sakamoto stood back up, hands on his hips as he surveyed the rest of the room and the other three inside. One of the light beams was shining right in Taichi's eyes, and he stepped away to ease his sight, the room dark at first until his eyes readjusted.

"Maybe..." Nagano blinked, eyelids slow and heavy. "...it's already gone. We already did something to make it angry or something and it left."

"I'm pretty sure the last thing a murderous spirit would do when it got angry was leave." Taichi turned towards Nagano with an eyebrow raised in dubious critique.

"Though he may be on to something at least. I mean, I don't feel any of those weird vibes I got that time we were up here last." Tatsuya was glancing around at the three of them, looking faint in the shadow. "And I mean, geez, we're... in the room itself now. Where that crazy guy did his dirty work."

Taichi brought a hand up to his gut, feeling ill for a second as a mental image of the students Cuttle had dissected flashed across his mind. He stuck his tongue out in nauseous discomfort.

Sakamoto gazed up at the ceiling, towards the empty lightbulb socket which hung like a wet sack above their heads. "Perhaps we're doing something wrong?"

"Doing something wrong?" Nagano scratched his forehead, looking strangely flat, as if he'd been painted on canvas. "You mean like there's a certain 'way' we have to deal with this stuff?"

Sakamoto shook his head. "I don't know. It's just." He tilted his head to the side, staring down at the off-color flooring. His striped shirt seemed over-saturated, unnatural in the dim lighting. "Beforehand, every time we did something, there'd be some kind of response. Like the first time, with you, Hiroshi. That was during the day, right? Can't have been too different of a time than this. Yet I still felt that strange... tingle, I don't know, against the door. And you, well, you started bleeding all over the place.

Then the second time, at night. We all felt it that time. Even stronger than before. And then it was Taichi who had the reaction. And in the graveyard too. There was something... something there. Something watching us, and those angel statues with the-... with the..."

He trailed off, looking down at his hand, unsure how to continue.

"But now nothing." Tatsuya. Taichi glanced at him, colors completely inverted for a moment and searing his eyes before righting themselves, as if nothing had happened. He looked down at his feet. It was like someone had chiseled him from stone. A strange, gnarled texture working up his legs until his hands seemed to crackle and stiffen before his eyes. He blinked and the soft pink of skin returned.

The four of them stood quiet, looking at each other. Wind outside shook the tree just beyond the window, shadows dancing across the floor in the beams of light.

Nagano brushed his hair out of his eyes, eyes falling to the floor. He stopped for a moment, looking at it curiously. "...was that there before?"

All three of them followed suit. Below their feet was a long, tangled, web-like stain. A dark-chocolate brown, tinged with red. Heavy with splatter towards the middle of the room, but more sparse as it angled outwards, as though someone had smacked the ground with a giant paintbrush.

Sakamoto scratched the tip of his nose. "Was it?"

"I don't remember it when I first walked in." Tatsuya cocked his head to the side. "...but then again, I didn't look closely at the floor."

"No wait, it was definitely there." Sakamoto licked his lips.

"You're right. I remember it now." Nagano.

Taichi's eyes focused on where the reddish brown splatters circled the area around his feet, dancing almost. Like art. Different colors of reds and browns all intertwined and dotted with splashes, nearly curling up around his legs, drawing his gaze further into the growth.

He looked up.

Blood lined the walls. Buckets of it. As if someone had thrown it against the wood, dark red lines across stark white. There was a bed in the corner. Neatly made. Pristine. The sheets tucked under the mattress tight and fresh. And to the right of the bed was a desk, just as organized, pencils and pens lined neatly in a cup, books sorted on a shelf, papers sorted by type in a file organizer just beneath a recently-dusted desk lamp.

He didn't want to look down. But he did.

There were two bodies with their hands tied above their heads, rope curled around iron posts that had been nailed to the walls. Their wrists were rubbed raw, stains leaking down their arms to their heads, gaping holes where their eyes should have been and blood leaking from the tissuey holes, mixing with the red pooling down from their open mouths. Even further. Their chests and stomach had been sliced clean open, revealing the muscle, lesions and tissue beneath, white of their bones sticking out through the mass of red flesh. Goopy holes were all that remained where their digestive organs had sat, leaking ooze and rancid pus, ribs snapped off and lungs missing, hearts missing, so much red, leaking all over the floor, pooling in the tile, a rotten scent polluting the air.

In the middle of the floor was another body, eyes open and bloodshot, nearly bulging out of their sockets. There was a scalpel buried deep in the flesh of his stomach, incision running the course of his torso and blood bubbling up the sides, still fresh, a growing pool soaking into his clothes and skin, the pink of his inner organs visible between the lacerated tissue.

Taichi blinked.

And it was gone.

Sakamoto, Tatsuya, and Nagano were standing in front of him, gazing passively around the room as the shadows from the branches outside continued to flicker to and fro, to and fro.

He shivered. Cold. He was cold.

He shook his head, bringing a hand up to wipe at the sweat pouring down his cheeks.

"So what do you think we should do?"

Sakamoto was tapping his finger against his mouth, brows furrowed. "We come back at night? Maybe he wasn't expecting us to come yet."

Nagano moaned. "I don't wanna come back when it's dark..."

"I'll do it." Tatsuya poked at his chest with his thumb. "Maybe there needs to be less of us anyway. Just please make sure I have a way to talk with you guys."

Taichi couldn't seem to make a noise. He opened his mouth to talk, but his vocal cords wouldn't work. Sweat dripped down his forehead, pooling in his eyes.

"You may be on to something. We'll set up cameras, get you a walkie-talkie... something's bound to happen. Maybe we can even communicate with it-... him somehow." Sakamoto gazed up at the ceiling. "In fact, maybe that's just what he wants."

Taichi shook his head.

But nobody was looking.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They got a camera from the Buzz Feed office. While the school newspaper dealt mostly in written reports, they had a video camera inherited from the television broadcast department they used for interviews and the occasional project. It was kept in the back closet on the third shelf from the top, not often taken out of its case if the dust that caked its top was any indication.

Taichi, Nagano, and Tatsuya waited outside the office as inconspicuously as possible while Sakamoto sauntered within, making small talk with his co-workers.

"Nice hair, Kim. Did you get it cut?"

"Gloomy weather we've been seeing lately, don't you think?"

"Love the tie, Ed. Real professional."

He meandered nonchalantly towards the back closet, making a show out of searching through his work files in the mailbox, then glanced back, eyes catching sight of the black plastic casing that housed the camera.

"I, uh, have an interview this afternoon. Rather important, so I think I'm gonna record it."

His eyes peered out into the office, where not a single head had lifted at his statement. "Just, you know, in case." Still nothing. There was a murmur that sounded like "ok" from the far desk, but that was it. Tongue trailing across his bottom lip, his hands went to the case, clumps of dust falling to the ground as he lugged it under his arm. He was out of the office without another word.

The walkie-talkies they bought from Jim's Fleet Farm, a hardware store not too far from campus. Sakamoto drove them in his old 1998 Mazda, clouds threatening to spill above them, cool wind already picking up and shaking the leaves on the trees to their right and left. Taichi watched them apathetically, face nearly pressed to the window as his stomach gurgled with anxiety.

They scissored open the package in the car after they'd spent twenty minutes searching the aisles of the store. It was a cheap pair, only twelve dollars, but seemed effective enough. They tested it in the car, laughing at each other's voices as they bit through the static on the other talkie.

"I haven't used these since I was a kid and I'd play army with my brothers in the back woods." Tatsuya pressed his finger to the transmit button, whispering something about murdering Nagano's family in the middle of the night. Taichi whumped him on the head with his knuckles, not in the mood to be sentencing death just yet.

Back in the dorms, they hauled up in Nagano's room, ordering a pizza and spreading out across the floor, mouths filled with cheese and grease and heads filled with a mixture of anticipation and dread. Tatsuya and Nagano watched a re-run on TV while Sakamoto took the bed, face buried in another of his library books. Taichi pretended to watch the moving pictures on the screen, finishing up the last of the pizza even as the taste of it made his stomach twist and turn and his head pounded at him, noise hidden by the laugh-track bursting from the speakers.

It would be fine.

Of course it would be fine.

He shoved the last bite of the pizza into his mouth, grease dribbling down his lips.

He'd just let his imagination get the better of him.

Nine o'clock came, and Sakamoto said they should get the preparations ready. Taking the video camera up to the fourth floor, they positioned it on a milk crate in the far corner of room 413, the darkness now thick and the silence deafening.

"If we record on EP we should have about 9 hours of video. That should be plenty. Will take us until 6 a.m. or so." Sakamoto was fixing the settings, eye poking into the finder as he adjusted the angle of the camera. "I can turn it on night-mode. It's not perfect, but you can make out basic shapes."

Nagano was shining his flashlight around the walls of the room, breath soft, careful. "It almost seems like a completely different room in the dark like this..."

"Darkness'll do that to ya." Tatsuya was rubbing his hands together.

Taichi tested the walkie-talkies again, handing one to Tatsuya with his eyes narrowed in concern. "You'll let us know if anything happens right?"

"What, you think I'd wanna keep it to myself?"

"No, I think you're an idiot who'll forget you have friends just two floors down." Taichi smirked, and Tatsuya returned the favor, grabbing the walkie-talkie with an air of confidence.

"Don't worry. I will." He tapped the receiver with his finger. "Hell, I'll probably start counting sheep into it once I get bored enough."

"Don't make us cut you off." Taichi stuck his tongue out, then glanced over at Sakamoto who'd just finished setting up the camera, the little red light on its side now glowing like a miniature eye in the shadows.

"Indeed though. As my counterpart said, let us know the moment something happens. And keep the walkie-talkie on so we can hear what's going on."

"When did I become your counterpart?"

Sakamoto ignored Taichi and patted Tatsuya on the shoulder. "God speed, my friend."

"I thought I was your counterpart..." Nagano this time, sulking from the other side of his flashlight.

Issuing their goodbyes, the three of them stepped out of the room, closing the door softly behind them before creeping back to Nagano's room on the second floor. It was still early enough that the hallway lights were on, so once they'd left the fourth floor, they clicked their flashlights off.

"You really think this'll work?" Taichi tugged at his sleeves, cold all of a sudden. The hairs on his arms stood on end.

"Well, it's the only thing we have to go on at the moment." Sakamoto ran a hand through his hair. "Considering none of us are practiced in witchcraft or exorcisms, we pretty much just have to wait for him to show himself."

"Why does something tell me that you've considered those other options?"

A laugh. Sakamoto didn't even look at him. "You would be surprised what books can teach you."

"Please don't become a crazy dark sorcerer or something, Masa." Nagano glanced back at them with a roll of his eyes. "I don't wanna wake up one morning to see you've caught your dorm on fire."

Sakamoto just scoffed. "Please. I take more care in my work than that."

The three of them chuckled, but it didn't last long, their feet taking them to Nagano's door. The room was the same as they'd left it, only somewhat empty now, missing the warmth their stocky friend lent to the atmosphere.

They sat down in a circle around the empty pizza box, the lingering scent of cheese and pepperoni permeating the air. Sakamoto brought the walkie-talkie to his lips, thumb smashing the transmit button.

"Tatsuya? Tatsuya, are you there?"

Silence a moment. Then.

"This place could use some redecoration, you know? These white walls aren't the easiest on the eyes."

Taichi laughed, built-up tension he hadn't even realized had been there releasing from his chest with a sigh. He took the walkie-talkie from Sakamoto. "Why don't you plan us out a new design while you're up there. You could find your calling in interior decorating."

"You guys didn't leave me any paper. I'll have to do my initial sketches using hair and bodily fluids."

"You're cleaning that up, you know!" Taichi grinned into the receiver.

Sakamoto took it back. "Anything yet?"

Silence another moment. "Is darkness reportable? 'Cuz there's a lot of that. Also this delightful stale smell. Not sure if you wanna take that down. I could try and describe it for you. Almost like moldy corn chips that someone's taken a sh-"

"That's fine, that's fine." Sakamoto's laugh cut him off. "Just stay alert. We'll be right here if anything happens or you just need to talk."

"Tell him we got ice cream." Nagano piped up before Sakamoto had even released his finger from the button.

"...that bitch! How'd you get ice cream already?"

Sakamoto rolled his eyes. "Nobody has ice cream, calm your ass down. Tomorrow morning we'll treat you to the biggest bowl of ice cream in the state, ok?"

"With gummy bears?"

"Yes, with gummy bears."

Taichi stole the walkie-talkie back. "And peanut butter. Lots of peanut butter."

"Now you're talkin'! That sounds like my kinda party."

"Yeah, so just make sure you come back, you idiot."

"Would you quit acting like I'm treading the halls of purgatory or something? I'm only two floors above you."

Sakamoto grabbed the receiver back from Taichi's hand. "He makes a good point though. Just be careful. Don't be afraid to book it if something really weird happens."

"And miss all the excitement? This guy's a pushover, I'm tellin' ya." Tatsuya's voice crinkled with amusement from the other side of the transmitter. "If he even decides to show. Maybe I should provoke him or something."

Sakamoto shook his head. "Don't do anything like that. At least not yet. We don't know entirely what we're up against here."

"Gotta get my ray gun out. Shoot me some undead bastards. They should make a video game outta me. Undead Bitches 2: Spirit Bloodbath."

"You're like a mother's worst nightmare."

"Complete with tri-rocket launchers for maximum splatter."

Once Tatsuya had quieted down a bit, time passed slowly. An hour. Then two. Every couple of minutes they'd say something to Tatsuya, or Tatsuya's voice would bite through the static with some kind of anecdote or complaint about his boredom.

By the time it hit midnight, Nagano's eyes were drooping and he was sprawled out on the floor, one of the pillows from the bed beneath his cheek. Sakamoto turned off the overhead light, leaving only the desk lamp on to give them enough light to see. Tatsuya's voice came through on the receiver with a lazy version of the Jackson 5's "ABC."

Taichi grabbed his own pillow, curling up on the floor with his face pointed towards the walkie-talkie. Sakamoto leaned back against the side of the bed with a yawn.

"You think something's gonna happen?"

"Maybe. Maybe not." Sakamoto rubbed at his eyes. "Maybe this whole thing was pointless."

Taichi didn't reply at first, fingers tugging at an errant string sticking up from the rug. He let his eyes wander off towards where Nagano had started to snore.

"He's already passed out."

"Not too surprised. Guy's always studying or doing classwork. I've found him passed out at the library a few times."

Taichi let his eyes rove upwards, though he was too comfortable to actually move his head enough to glance back at Sakamoto. "Why does he work so hard?"

"Family." Sakamoto laced his fingers over his stomach and stared up at the ceiling. "Father's business went under a number of years back and they're kinda hard-pressed for cash. Now he's trying to get through school and find a good teaching job somewhere so he can help pay off his folks' debt."

"Tough, man." Taichi frowned, taking in Nagano's slumped form across from him. "I have enough trouble trying to accomplish things for myself. Can't imagine knowing my family was relying on me to succeed."

"He never says much about it, but I can tell it's hard on him." Sakamoto chewed on the inside of his cheek. "Doesn't help that he's not a natural when it comes to studying and school and such. He could study all night at the library and still only get a passing grade on a test. I've tried to help him, with classes, you know. Helping him find new study habits that might work better. But he always ends up getting discouraged.

He'd originally started here with a major in computer programming, but he failed all his math classes since he couldn't keep up with the work. Had to change majors to something he could handle, which is why he's in elementary ed now. I suppose it's fitting at least, since he's good with kids. I think he'll make a good teacher just as long as he can keep up with his classwork."

Taichi turned onto his back, staring up at the ceiling with his hands splayed to his sides.

"Maybe I shouldn't have dragged him into all of this. He's got enough on his plate as it is."

"Why exactly... are you doing this?"

Silence. Taichi couldn't tell if Sakamoto was looking at him or not.

"Change the world, I guess. You ever just feel like you... have to do something? Even if others tell you you shouldn't?"

An image of his cold, muddy bare feet flashed across his mind. He was sitting out in a puddle, tears leaking down his cheeks, blurring his eyes, the cold rain jabbing at his head like prickles of ice.

Don't come back inside until you can decide to be normal, you sick freak.

"I guess I can understand..."

Sakamoto rested his chin down on his knees, wrapping his arms around himself. "It's weird. Like something inside me telling me I can't give up yet. Not when I'm so close. Like I'm the only one who can finish this."

"You're not getting all philosophical on me, are you?"

A laugh. "Who knows at this point. Maybe I'm just destined to take on evil spirits or something."

Taichi's fingers crawled into his pocket, finding hard plastic. He pulled out the lighter, holding it above his face and rotating it in his hand. One flick. Two. He lit it with a little spark, the flame dancing in the dark room.

It was hypnotic. The gentle, orange light, backdropped by the ceiling far above his head. The smell of gas met his nostrils, comforting somehow. He let the flame go out. Then lit it again. It burned way back behind his eyes, shadows flickering against his face.

He breathed in. Long and slow. When he let it out, it made the tiny flame curl and twist, almost going out.

"What are you gonna do?"

Taichi's eyes didn't leave the light. "About what?"

"Shige."

He let the light go out, chest tight. "What do you mean, what am I gonna do about him?"

"Are you gonna tell him?"

Taichi flicked the lighter back on, the glow reflecting off his glasses. He didn't respond.

"He's pretty air-headed when it comes to stuff like that." A pause. "Actually when it comes to most things. You're never gonna get anywhere unless you come right out and tell him."

Still nothing.

"I mean, you've been pining after him since that first time I invited you out to the bars with us last fall. He's gonna graduate and leave and you'll never say anything at this rate."

"Why ruin everything?" Taichi let the light go out again, room seeming darker as his eyes fought to readjust.

Now it was Sakamoto's turn to stay quiet.

"You don't even know, do you?"

"Know what?"

"If he leans that way."

Sakamoto pursed his lips, refolding his arms around his knees in the other direction. "Well. No."

"He probably doesn't even know I lean that way. So why risk it?"

"You'll regret it if you don't." Sakamoto stared down at the walkie-talkie, now silent in the dark room.

Taichi rolled over on his side, holding the lighter close to his face before lighting it again. He could feel the warmth against his cheeks and lips. One hand up to cradle the flame, he coveted the light for himself.

When he next let the flame die, he closed his eyes, tired and weary. He curled his hand around the lighter and pulled it in close, sleep tugging on his mind as his breathing slowed.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The next time Taichi opened his eyes, the morning sun was filtering in the blinds and there was a wet drool spot on his pillow. He yawned, cracking his eyes open, crusty and sensitive, even the soft light of the room bright against his vision. He pushed himself up on his arms, vision blurry as he tried to make out shapes. Feeling around with his hand, he first found plastic, the lighter, then the smooth frame of his glasses, having fallen off in the night. He rubbed at his eyes before sliding his glasses atop his nose, blinking once, then twice, the view in front of him finally starting to make sense.

Sakamoto and Nagano were still fast asleep, soft murmurs whisping up from beneath their lips. Nagano was splayed out on his pillow while Sakamoto was slumped uncomfortably on his side, face pressed against the floor rug.

In the middle of their circle was the walkie-talkie.

The walkie-talkie.

Taichi's eyes shot open, drowsiness gone in an instant. He jerked forward, nearly stumbling over himself as he grabbed the walkie-talkie, slamming this thumb against the transmitter button.

"Tatsuya? Tatsuya?!"

His eyes shook in their sockets as he gripped the hard plastic. Listening. Listening.

No response.

He pressed it again, lips nearly smashed against the receiver. "Tatsuya, are you there? Tatsuya, answer me!"

His temples pulsed. On off. On off.

The walkie-talkie remained silent.

"Sh-...shit..." He bit down on his lip so hard he tasted blood. Across from him, Sakamoto was blinking his eyes, sitting up slowly in apparent confusion.

"Taichi?" He blinked lazily, cheek embedded with the design of the rug's fibers. His eyes found Taichi, focused, and after a moment of recollection, he was pulling himself forward across the floor. "Shit!"

"Yeah, shit. Exactly." Taichi's throat felt tight. "He's not answering."

Sakamoto took the walkie-talkie, trying it once for good measure, but the line was dead on the other end. "What time is it?"

Taichi shook his head, hand shifting through his mussed curls. He wasn't wearing his watch, so he spun around on his toes, looking for the nearest clock. The digital display on Nagano's bedside table read 7:34.

"7:34."

"Shit."

There was a yawn from behind them, and Nagano rose sleepily from his pillow.

"What's goin' on guys?"

"We need to go upstairs pronto." Taichi was already on his feet, clothes rumpled and wrinkled.

Nagano's eyes widened as he glanced back and forth between Sakamoto and Taichi. "Where's Tatsuya...?"

But neither one of them answered, walkie-talkie abandoned as they took off for the door. Nagano stumbled to his feet behind them, still groggy and barely catching the door before it slammed shut in his face.

He's just asleep.

They'd fallen asleep, hadn't they?

So it only made sense that Tatsuya would.

Maybe he'd even left the room after a few hours and camped outside in the hall.

It was only sensible.

Taichi's mind was a whirlwind of hopes and excuses as their footsteps echoed in the stairwell. He took the stairs two at a time, flying up to the fourth floor and nearly thudding against the wall at the top. Sakamoto was right behind him as they dashed down the empty hallway, dust choking their lungs.

Taichi wasted no time, hand to the knob of the door and wrenching it open. It flung with such force that it hit the wall with a slam, vibrations rocking the floor beneath their feet.

"Tatsuya!" They were inside.

It was dim. Hard to see at first.

Taichi's eyes shuddered, a strange feeling. The world in front of him warped, dimmed, lost its color, then brightened, over-saturated, fizzing and crackling and popping as if his eyes were on fire.

He couldn't breathe for a moment. Couldn't move.

There was something slimy beneath his stockinged feet, soaking into the fabric.

"Tatsu... ya..."

Tatsuya's body was on its side near the wall on the opposite side of the room. Motionless.

He wiggled his toes, feeling the moisture cold against his skin.

He looked down. His socks were changing color. Red. Seeping through the fabric. Wet and squishy.

"Oh, fuck!" Sakamoto's voice was hoarse next to him, gravelly, a weird tone Taichi'd never heard in his voice before. He saw him sink to his knees in the corner of his eye, but he couldn't seem to turn his head to look at him. "Fuuuuuck... oh god..."

His vision was blurring. He didn't know why. He brought a hand up and noticed his face was wet. When had it started to rain? They needed to get inside if they didn't want to get soaked. They'd have to help Tatsuya. Tatsuya wouldn't want his clothes to get ruined. It wouldn't take much. He'd lost a few things, but they could fix it. They could pick up the entrails strung around the room and stick them back in his stomach. You shouldn't be so messy, Tatsuya. Look at the mess you made. They would never be able to clean all of this up. Why was there a hole in Tatsuya's stomach? That hadn't been there before. Why was everything red? Why were Tatsuya's eyes closed? Was he sleeping? It was raining again. Taichi couldn't see.

Wake up.

Please wake up.

We have class today.

You'll have to borrow my notes if you don't come to class.

He couldn't feel his feet anymore, and he sank to his knees. There was a crack as his knee caps thudded to the tile.

Somebody call the hospital.

Tatsuya hurt himself.

He needs help.

Somebody come make him better.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck..." Sakamoto's voice was twisted next to him.

There was a wail as Nagano dashed into the room, slipping on the wet concrete. Taichi watched him crawl towards Tatsuya's body, towards his friend.

Wake up.

But it wasn't his own voice anymore.

Wake up, Taichi.

He threw up all over the floor.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Tell us what happened, Taichi. From the beginning."

He didn't move. Just stared down at the table separating him from the officers on the other side.

"It's alright. You can take as much time as you need to."

He curled the blanket tighter around his shoulders, his chin buried into his chest.

"You wouldn't believe it."

"That doesn't matter now. We simply want to hear the truth from you as well as you can remember it. Just tell us everything you can."

"I don't wanna talk about it."

"We know that it must be hard, but please. Anything. Anything you can."

Taichi felt his spit get stuck in his throat, his chest cold, so cold he couldn't breathe. The room was spinning around him, nauseating, twisting and turning and wrenching his stomach in two.

"I-...I-I'm gonna be sick."

He dashed towards the door, stumbling over his chair, but he didn't even make it out of the room before the contents of his stomach splattered across the tile.

They'd stuck him in a small waiting room in the police station. Colors and noises surrounded him, but his eyes stayed trained on a small figurine that was waving at him from a shelf on the other side of the nearby glass wall. It looked so happy. Permanent smile plastered on its face. Small golden body plump and content, one hand raised in jovial salutation forever and ever.

What time was it?

What day was it?

He shivered and pulled his legs into the safety of his blanket. His mouth tasted vile.

They'd taken Tatsuya away. There'd been a giant mass of sirens and screams, blurred lines, people moving, shouting, running, pushing, pulling. They'd taken him away in that big white car.

Was he gonna be ok?

He'd asked that. He could remember that specifically, even if he couldn't remember what had happened after that.

He felt empty. It was the strangest feeling. Like a chunk of himself was gone.

Who'd hollowed him out and thrown away the slop?

He hadn't been able to cry after everything hit him that first time in the room. It was like he'd been dried up. Sucked clean. His blood run cold and his skin clammy.

There was a slam.

Sakamoto burst into the room, face red with anger as he shouted at someone Taichi couldn't see.

"What's wrong with you, people! Can't you see what's under your own goddamn noses?!" Another slam. The door shut with enough force to shake the blinds and rattle the glass. The air seemed to buzz and bristle around Sakamoto's form.

"I can't fucking believe it." He sat down beside Taichi with a huff, heat tangible. "They're calling it a suicide."

Suicide.

The word rang in Taichi's ears, individual letters breaking apart, clicking and clacking and bouncing around inside his head.

"Suicide?"

"Apparently they finished with the biopsy, and duh, I suppose if you look at the situation with the cranial capacity of a trained monkey you might rule it a suicide, but anyone with even an ounce of intelligence can see there's something else going on here."

Taichi turned towards Sakamoto slowly, taking in his appearance. The other boy was squatting on top of the chair, long knees pointed outwards and knocking against each other as his hands clawed at the sides of his head. His eyes were dark, clouded.

"I can't even fucking believe this!" Unable to stay seated any longer, Sakamoto was up and off the chair, pacing around the room. "What do we pay these people for? To sit around and make up shit without actually doing any goddamn research?!"

The sandals Sakamoto'd received when they'd been brought stocking-feet to the station clipped and clopped, slapping against the floor with each step as he whirled back and forth. His hair was a frightful mess, not having seen the wash in a few days now and taking repeated beatings from his hands.

"They won't even listen to me! I told them! I told them what had happened! I told them about Cuttle. About the graveyard. About everything that had happened to us since we started this whole goddamn thing. And you know what they did?" He twirled around, facing Taichi, his lips pulled back in disgust. "They laughed at me! Said I must 'still be in shock.'" He jabbed his finger into the palm of his hand. "And then they go off making these outrageous claims about suicide as if that will somehow solve everything! As if that will somehow make sense!"

Taichi stared at Sakamoto in blank rapture, the skin around his eyes a sick, greenish color and his mouth hanging open, completely lax.

"These people, I-... I just... I can't..." Sakamoto's hands went to his hair, tugging on it in frustration.

"Tatsuya... committed suicide?" Taichi's eyelids blinked, long and slow, his eyes wandering off towards a far corner of the room.

"No! No, no, no, no..." Sakamoto stomped over, hands on Taichi's shoulders. "Pull yourself together!" He shook him with a little jerk, Taichi's head flopping back and forth. "You and I both know that's not true!"

Taichi's head screamed at him, needles jabbing at his skin and grinding into his skull. He squeezed his eyes shut, blocking out the light. He could feel Sakamoto's eyes glaring at him, piercing through him even from beneath the shield of his eyelids.

"I don't..." He sucked in his breath, lips trembling. "I don't know anymore... I don't know..."

Sakamoto's face softened, his grip on Taichi's shoulders loosening. He let out a sigh. "...I'm sorry." His hands fell completely, shoulders slumping with an air of defeat. "I'm sorry... hey." He tried to smile, corners of his mouth tilting upwards in a strained look of not-quite-happiness. Leaning forward, he wrapped his arms around Taichi's shoulders and pulled him in, the two of them silent. Taichi shuddered against him, dry tears caught in the back of his throat as his body shook.

"I'm just... frustrated, is all." Sakamoto's voice was low, barely audible. "...and I don't know what to do."

They remained in the waiting room the rest of the evening, Sakamoto haggard and worn and Taichi passed out on his shoulder. One of the desk clerks had told them they could go, but only ten minutes later, a detective told them to wait around in case they needed to ask a few more questions. Nagano'd passed out at the scene and had been taken to the hospital in case he needed to be treated for shock. One of the other detectives coming back from questioning him had mentioned he was up and doing fine, which was a relief.

They kept getting sad looks from the clerks and officers that happened by or stopped in to check on them.

"I can't even imagine walking in on a friend who'd killed himself like that..."

Sakamoto heard it from the other side of the door after a Lt. Kewalski told them they were welcome to stay the night if it would make them more comfortable-they had cots. Taichi'd almost seemed keen on the idea, his eyes weary and gray and his body still trembling.

"You'll feel better back in your own room. Trust me." Sakamoto rubbed the other boy's shoulder encouragingly.

"Just... give me a little while longer..."

And so Taichi'd leaned back over, head finding Sakamoto's shoulder as the two of them sat back to wait again, the nearby clock informing them that it was already well past 8 p.m.

Sakamoto wrapped his arms around his legs with a sigh, gazing out across the pane of glass into the office area where clerks were at work filing, printing, and copying, and detectives and officers stopped by to chat on their ways in and out of the station.

Are you sure that's really what happened?

Just how stressed have you been lately?

How much do you know about Tatsuya's home life? And how had he been doing in school?

They hadn't believed a single word he'd told them.

It was as if they'd already decided what was what and had simply been asking him for confirmation. When he couldn't give them that, he'd gotten tossed aside.

Broken.

He scoffed beneath his breath. Maybe this was what it felt like to be crazy.

The black screen of a TV stared at him from the wall to his left. Not quite sure he welcomed the obnoxious squawking of its speakers just yet, but feeling the need for something to keep him occupied, he stretched his arm out for the remote on a magazine table two chairs down. He pressed his thumb to the power button and watched it spark to life, screen saturated with color.

"...and here's tomorrow's forecast."

The news. Good as any. He preferred it over the idiocy of reality TV and asinine writing of most television dramas. He watched miniature clouds and suns dance across the screen with tomorrow's temperature and precipitation forecasts labeled beneath.

Taking a peek at Taichi, he found him awake, his eyes open and staring groggily at the TV. When their gazes met, he gave him a little grin, but it was only half-returned. He turned back towards the TV.

"And now, more from the tragedy that's hit Dulbruk University. For those of us just tuning in, early this morning a student, Yamaguchi Tatsuya, was found dead in the top floor of one of the university's dormitories. The police have labeled this a suicide, and are taking every effort to calm fear and anxiety across the campus."

The screen changed from the reporter's face to a scene just outside Wicker, where police cars and an ambulance were parked outside its doors and a crowd of students had gathered in the grass. It appeared to be from this morning.

"Tatsuya's body was found by three of his friends in one of the rooms on the top floor of Wicker Hall, a dormitory well-known on campus as the 'Haunted Dormitory.'"

A girl popped up on screen, the words "Kate Grace, Junior" displayed beneath.

"I have a few friends that live in Wicker. They're always going on about some of the weird stuff that happens there. Like, unbelievable stuff, you know? Everybody knows that place is haunted."

Then the picture changed to a view of students walking back and forth on the sidewalks of campus.

"The student, Yamaguchi Tatsuya, was a twenty-year-old sophomore in the pre-med program at Dulbruk."

A professor Sakamoto didn't know appeared on screen. "He always did well in my class. Though I can't say if he did in his others. He was a bright student, happy as far as I could tell. I don't know what could have brought him to this."

Sakamoto made a noise between his teeth, growling at the television. "Nothing 'brought' him to anything."

Another student appeared. "Ryan Fawkswar, Senior."

"I went to the same school as Tatsuya. He got held back a year in middle school. Used to get in a lot of fights and stuff, and he used to skip all the time. When I saw he'd actually graduated and moved on to college, I was a little surprised. Apparently, he'd turned over a new leaf."

The reporter's voice again. "But was it something he could truly keep up? Friends, family, and colleagues don't have a clue."

This time, a man in a white lab jacket appeared on screen, sitting at a desk with shelves of books behind him. The words "Dr. Frank Ropert, Psychologist" appeared beneath him.

"There's a chance that being in a place like Wicker, with so much bad energy, with so much hype and terror built around it, was simply too much for him. If he'd had any insecurities about himself, about his life, about school, the atmosphere of Wicker could very well have amplified it, pushing him over the edge. There's also the possibility that he might have been much more troubled than anyone thought. He might have had a mental disorder that went unchecked through the years and didn't really come to light until he was under incredible pressure, such as one that fear and terror can provide."

Sakamoto was glaring at the screen, brows furrowed in disbelief. "Tatsuya wasn't crazy!"

The scene returned to the station office where the reporter sat with her hands atop her desk. "Though what baffles police the most is the way in which he killed himself. A post-mortem biopsy confirmed that he'd clawed open his own stomach and removed his internal organs, similar, almost, to the practice of Japanese samurai hundreds of years ago. It would have been a horribly painful way to die, and detectives and psychologists have yet to come up with an answer for why he would have chosen this specific method for his own suicide, but the investigation is on-going. We've yet to get ahold of his family and hope to have more news to bring you within the next couple of days. Bryan?"

The camera panned away towards a man at another desk, a new headline replacing the one at the top as he began in on the day's sports scores.

Sakamoto felt anger well up in his chest, bubbling up and out of his throat as he growled at the innocent man on screen. Taking a hold of the remote, he threw it at the wall, missing the TV but snapping the back off the remote, sending the pieces tumbling to the floor.

"Bastards." He sat back, breath heavy. "Fuck the police, man. Just fuck 'em.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Classes were cancelled campus-wide for the next two days. With the police hounding Wicker and the potential for students breaking down in the middle of class, the board had deemed it wise to let things simmer down before resuming daily activities and schedules.

Taichi rarely left his room. Curled up in his bed with the covers around him and the lights off, he slept. Even when he wasn't sleeping, he'd stay in bed hours at a time, only coming out to turn on the TV and stare at it with strained eyes as the pictures moved and laughed on-screen.

Even when classes started up again at the end of the week, Taichi refused to leave the dorm room. Sakamoto talked at him from his desk, kind at first, understanding, but growing more and more harsh the longer Taichi refused to move.

"Taichi, go to class."

"Taichi, you need to get out."

"Taichi, you can't stay locked the fuck away in here."

"Taichi, I'm not gonna watch you shrivel up all to hell and back."

And then Taichi would just turn and face the other way with a sigh, hiding his head beneath the blankets.

He'd given up.

But Sakamoto wasn't one to give up so easily.

If the police weren't going to help, then he was on his own. He had more of a reason than ever now to bring this fucker down and close the Cuttle case for good.

The police kept the fourth floor of Wicker roped off for the next week, but that didn't mean he couldn't watch from afar. He'd stand outside the dorm, sheltered beneath the group of pine trees not far off and watch for signs of movement. He'd walk the halls of the third floor, curiously watching as detectives and investigators did their work. He'd interview other students that lived in Wicker, careful in his broach of the subject, but needing information of the goings-on inside the dormitory.

Things had gotten worse. In the span of four days since the accident, sightings had increased on all three bottom floors of Wicker. Moving objects. Lights flashing. Strange presences in mirrors, and now shadows floating above beds, strange indents pressed into blankets, whistling noises, even voices once everyone had gone to sleep.

He got Reina's number from Taichi and tried to call, but she didn't pick up her phone. When he visited her room, her roommate told him that she'd left to go back home, a complete mess. There was no telling when she'd come back.

Day after day saw cloudy skies, dark, menacing clouds gathering above their heads, rain whipping across campus and beating against umbrellas.

Nagano wasn't keen on rejoining the cause. It took Sakamoto three knocks on his door before it finally opened, and even then, Nagano was reluctant to let him inside. It wasn't until Sakamoto'd convinced him that the only way this was going to end was if they themselves ended it that Nagano agreed to help him in his investigation. It helped having a second pair of eyes, a second pair of ears, and another pencil to help him jot down and organize notes.

Time not spent investigating was time spent in the library. Was time spent visiting the local church and speaking with the priests, borrowing books from the study room. Was time spent drawing out maps and timelines and piecing bits of information together.

Garner Cuttle was growing stronger.

They'd freed him of his cage when they'd opened the door.

It was the only explanation.

One of the old tomes he'd borrowed from the church mentioned ancient seals and their waning strength over time. All that bitter resentment, that lingering enmity bottled up in room 413 had no doubt worn away at the walls of its cage, which would explain the disturbing sights that had begun to grow more frequent within the dormitory. But now that the door had been opened, the spirit was free to walk the halls, room to room, no doubt delighting in its new freedom and waiting for the day it could find a way to leave the dorm.

Sakamoto had to stop that from happening before it was too late.

He just didn't quite know how yet.

Wicker stood cold and solemn in the mid-afternoon drizzle coating its shingles. Down the drops of water fell, painting the shutters, flooding the earth.

Five days now. It had been five days.

Sakamoto had walked across campus the same as always, head protected beneath his umbrella but shoes and pants damp and sticky. His eyes narrowed as he stared up at the fourth floor windows of Wicker, boarded up, dismal and foreboding. The sound of the nearby pine trees scraping against the building's walls was harsh against his ears.

As he walked closer, he noticed someone standing off a short ways away in the grass, their own umbrella making a quick identification impossible. It wasn't until he'd ventured near, his angle changing, that he saw Joshima's profile, soft yet strangely cold. The other boy was staring ahead of himself, saying nothing, unmoving. What he was looking at, Sakamoto couldn't tell.

It was almost picturesque. And for a moment Sakamoto felt like he was interrupting something.

Then he took a step into the grass, and Joshima seemed to snap out of his trance, turning to look at him. He smiled when their eyes met, a strange, sad little smile.

Sakamoto's feet grew cold as water seeped into his shoes.

Part 4