mission report for clipsie (part 5 of 7)
Back to Part Four
The air was crisp when Taichi stepped outside the dorm doors. It swirled into his lungs as he breathed in, the scent of fall, of burnt leaves, of lingering rain, marbling together and expanding in his chest before he breathed them back out, the stinging chill opening his eyes and awakening him from the half-slumber he'd been fighting for the last two hours cooped up in his room reading through the book Sakamoto had told him to peruse.
It was invigorating. All that fresh air lying in wait outside, delightfully chilly and working its way into his bones, sharpening his mind.
He walked out onto the nearest path, the sidewalk covered in crunchy leaves that crackled and popped beneath his feet like a symphony. Passing a few students, he let his gaze travel up to the surrounding trees, now half-bare, all tangled messes of branches and limbs, dirty and brown as they gave up their clothes of reds and yellows to the ground below.
His chest ached. A strange resonance that tickled behind his lungs and spread through the capillaries just beneath his skin. Sakamoto'd been gone at least three hours now, maybe four, maybe five. It'd been three hours since Taichi'd seen the note on his desk.
Off to do research.
Don't look for me.
And then.
P.S. Catch up on your ghouls while I'm out. That is, if you're not ransacking a certain senior's ass.
There'd been a book on types of spirits just adjacent to the note. Taichi'd ripped up the yellow post-it, face flushed, but had opened the book obediently, curiosity and dog-like loyalty getting the best of him.
Taichi stretched his arms up above his head, then gingerly pressed his fingers against his chest, feeling the fuzzy twinge spread beneath the pressure. It made his throat itch, and he let out an abrupt cough into his hand.
It was when he stuck his hands back in his pockets that he found it, all smooth plastic that fit perfectly into his palm.
He pulled out the lighter and stared at it, brows furrowed and bottom lip jutted out in a pout.
Fifteen minutes later, he was stepping out of the convenience store down the road with a pack of Newports in his hand. He started back down the sidewalk, bumping the pack against his palm to free one of the cigarettes and placing it between his lips. He held up the lighter.
Then stopped.
Waiting at the light about ten feet away were Tatsuya's parents, Reina standing at their side with her hands crossed in front of her and face dark.
She glanced over at him as if feeling his presence, eyes glassy as they took in Taichi's figure.
"Shit. Reina." Taichi couldn't move for a second, rooted to the spot with the cigarette still poised awkwardly to the side of his mouth and one hand holding the lighter to the tip.
Reina just looked at him, eyes tightening and fingers curling around each other. Then she ran forward wordless, arms curling around Taichi's neck from above as she buried her face into his shoulder.
"Sh-shit-!" Taichi nearly dropped the lighter, quickly lowering his hands. He held his arms out to the side for a moment in startled confusion, then brought them around Reina's frame, holding her waist softly. "Reina..."
He felt her chest heave against him as she breathed in and out, tears staining his jacket, but she remained silent, not a word escaping her lips as she cried against him.
Taichi felt his own eyes start to water, and he didn't even blink them away as he held her tighter, the two of them standing on the edge of campus as the autumn breeze curled rust-colored leaves around their feet.
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"It smells in here."
"Oh hush, you. It's not that bad. And it's not like we can use your room since your roommate's studying."
Inocchi smiled down at the little smirk on Asaka's face. "I suppose you make a good point." He ducked down, pressing their lips together softly at first, then harder, tilting his head as she let out a pleased murmur. "And we wouldn't wanna wait, hm?" The words rolled off his tongue as he pulled away just enough to speak. "Because you know how much I..." Another kiss. "...hate to..." Again. "...wait."
Asaka smiled against his lips, arms wrapped around his neck and pulling him closer, pressed against her on top of the bed, bodies tight.
"Of course I know." She pushed her lips against his neck as his knees sank into the mattress to her either side. "So you'll have to put up with the smell for a bit..."
Soon their clothes were forgotten, strewn to various sides of the bed, scattered on the floor below. Asaka's legs were curled around Inocchi's hips, his hands buried in the sheets as he thrusted forward, each jerk sending him deeper inside her.
"Shit, oh fuck, Ino..."
Asaka's eyes were closed, teeth biting down on her bottom lip as her head angled back into the pillow. Inocchi was sweating above her, breath caught in the back of his lungs as he focused his energy into each and every sensation, each and every movement of his pelvis and the delightful friction that sent shocks of pleasure swirling up across the length of his back. Asaka's hips bucked against him, rising to meet him, wanting more, needing more, beckoning him deeper and faster as her moans rose in pitch.
"Fuck, you're beautiful..." Inocchi lowered his head even as his lower-half kept the rhythm going, lips pressing against her collar bone and traveling up her neck, nipping at the skin, tongue lapping at the sweat forming beneath her hairline. Her hands went to his shoulders, massaging them beneath her palms, nails biting into his skin and leaving miniature red indents.
Inocchi moaned against her throat, lips tracing the curve of her neck. He sucked up on a small patch of skin, playing at it with his lips, with his teeth, biting down until he tasted copper on his tongue, then pulled back. There was a tiny tear on the side of her neck, red visible and the tiniest dribble oozing up from inside the scratch, staining his eyes. He leaned back down, unable to wrench his eyes away, red monopolizing his vision as he took the tiny split back between his lips, sucking up on it, rolling it over and over, teeth gnawing at it and splitting it further apart.
Asaka responded by digging her nails deeper into his back, breaking open the skin, sticky wetness trickling up around her nails as they embedded themselves into his back like talons, carving into the tissue.
Inocchi pulled away, breath caught in his throat and his eyes black, glassy, like marbles in their sockets. His body quivered, hips stopping in their fervent thrusts as he stared down at Asaka's neck, face strangely blank. He brought a finger up, teasing the new opening on the side of her neck, the torn skin bending and folding beneath the pressure as blood seeped from the opening to begin trailing down the side of her throat.
He pinched one of the flaps between his thumb and index finger, almost as if curious, then began pulling. It resisted at first, stretching up at the tug like rubber, then it slowly tore, sinews weakening and pulling apart as he increased the pressure. He kept pulling, the flap of skin separating from muscle as it ripped further and further down the line of her neck, blood bubbling up from the lesion and soaking the bedsheets beneath it.
She gasped, head arching back into the pillow as her fingers dug further into his shoulders, curling inwards and tearing at the flesh of his back, ripping it off the muscle.
The entire side of her neck was now a pink, fleshy mass, bloodied skin flapping off to the side as he finished ripping off the section of flesh. Her throat quivered, muscles pulsating as she breathed and swallowed and moaned, his fingers finding the bottom edge of the laceration and picking at it with his fingernails until he could tear off another piece. Her skin curled and yielded to his fingers as they pecked and tugged, her chest and throat barely visible beneath the pool of red bubbling up from the veins popping and bursting with each new portion of skin removed.
Her own hands were at work on his back, now a mass of flayed tissue and flesh, hunks of skin falling off as her nails bit into him again and again, tearing at his shoulders and ripping slices of it off to decorate the sheets, blood running rivers down his spine, across his waist and hips. Her eyes gazed up at him, the same black color and urging him onwards, groan overtaking her chest as both his hands began clawing at her breasts, carving chunks of skin from the exposed tissue all the way down to the bone, her lungs gasping for air as her back arched up off the mattress.
"Inocchi... Inocchi, oh god..."
Shreds of flesh hung off her fingers as her hands roved upwards, tearing lines up his neck until they reached his face, nails sinking deep into his cheeks with a squelch, thick, sticky redness leaking down her wrists as she began pulling the skin off his face.
His own hands had already reached her stomach, pulling off chunk after chunk of skin and flesh as his fingers carved into the soft tissue of her waist, ripping and tearing into the trembling tissue as the pink of her intestines shone exposed through the lacerated muscles.
"I'm gonna... o-oh god, I'm gonna-...!"
Her hips arched up off the bed as her strangled voice bit into the air, chunky blood running down the sides of her hips to decorate the bedsheets.
And then her eyes rolled back in her head as she came. Her body spasmed with a heavy groan as she collapsed onto the mattress, hands tightening around Inocchi's throat as her fingers plunged through his trachea with a shuddered squelch.
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Joshima was rifling through his closet, hands searching through stacks of folded clothes before pulling out an old t-shirt and a pair of boxers, looping them over his arm before reaching down to pick up the plastic tub with his shampoo, soap and deodorant lined up neatly inside. He'd already pulled the covers of his bed down, all perfectly folded corners and crisp white beneath the navy blue of his comforter that seemed to beckon him into the cozy cocoon, but he wasn't one to go to sleep without showering. He padded over towards the rack where his towel hung, throwing it over his shoulder before slipping his plastic sandals on at the door and skirting outside into the hall.
The dorm was quiet around him. Ever since the water vein had burst, the already-quiet dorm had lulled to an almost death-like silence, even students that hadn't been evacuated from the flood rooming with friends or relatives either to escape the smell of mold or hide from the unearthly chill that had seemed to settle over the building. It was heavy, weighing down the air, and Joshima felt like he was swimming as he wandered down the empty hall to the bathroom.
The bathroom itself was equally as still, not a figure in sight, and no one using any of the toilet stalls or showers. He didn't mind, preferring to be alone as he did his business. He set his plastic tub down on the counter by the mirrors, eyes surveying his face in the reflected glass and grimacing at the dark bags under his eyes. Placing a hair tie between his teeth, he pulled the uneven edges of his hair up towards the top of his head before holding it in place with the tie. He'd just washed his hair the previous day, so he wouldn't need to wash it again until tomorrow.
Pulling his shirt over the top of his head, he let out a little "pwah" as it came loose in his arms, soft fabric dropping to the counter. Looking back to the mirror, he ran his fingers over the scar on his chest and shoulder, tracing the pockmarks and dark-red stains with a frown of disapproval. Fingers lingering on his collar bone for an extra second, he let out a sigh before letting his arm drop, hands to his jeans as he began yanking them down his legs.
Plopping his jeans on top of his shirt, he picked up his plastic tub and towel and clip-clopped his way to the nearest shower stall, looping the towel over the nearby hook. The water was cold when he turned the faucet on, so he stood outside for a moment, hand upturned beneath the spout to gauge the temperature until it had grown sufficiently warm, then slipping past the curtain.
The water felt good on his skin, the dull heat fighting off the chill that resided not only in his skin, but all the way to his bones, warming him from the outside in as he curled his arms around himself. He simply stood with his shoulders beneath the deluge for a few minutes, eyes closed and face to the ceiling as the water ran rivulets down his backside and legs.
Finally, his hand groped outside the curtain to grab his soap, and he squirted a dollop into his palm before slowly rubbing his hands together, delighting in the way the white goo slid and squeezed between his fingers. It glided down his wrists, forming bubbles against his skin which drifted up to his nose and popped against the tip. His lips curled into a soft smile as he began running his hands up and down the lengths of his arms, working back to his shoulders before continuing down his stomach.
Drawing little circles over his hips, his hands slid to his backside, slippery and wet and drifting just above his rear end before slipping down inside, and he felt his face grow warm, memories from a few nights prior swirling at the front of his mind. His smile widened, eyes softening before his hands moved on, painting the entirety of his backside and legs with whitish foam as the water caressed his shoulders.
Standing back up, he pointed the spout towards his lower extremities to wash away the soap.
The back of his neck grew cold.
A breath.
His eyes popped open, and he turned around with a start, breath caught in his lungs.
Nothing.
He couldn't move for a second, just staring at the wet tile on the side of the stall before bringing a hand up to trace the skin of his neck.
The water was starting to grow hot.
It stung against his skin, tiny little prickles that turned the pale white a pinkish hue. Turning back to the handle, he inched it towards the blue mark, but the water didn't change.
Another breath.
He whirled back around, but was met with the same brownish tile as before. His heart was starting to pick up in his chest, reverberating up through his skull as his breathing quickened.
Taking a deep breath, he stood still in the middle of the shower, closing his eyes and focusing, lips pursed together. The water continued to run down his backside, hitting him like tiny little knives as his skin grew darker, the red more pronounced.
One breath.
Two.
Slowly in.
Then out.
He opened his eyes, and his vision shook, heavy breathing surrounding him, soaked into his consciousness. He couldn't tell if it was his own or not.
Bringing a hand to his head, he gazed at the tile on the floor below him, the silver drain crackled with lime and build-up and the water swirling around and around. His stomach was turning flip-flops, threatening to send his dinner back up through his throat.
Hand groping the wall, he found the handle and wrenched it closed, the water stopping with a silent tremor. Giving himself another second to gather himself, he pulled open the curtain, reaching up for his towel, but even as his hands found it, the strength needed to pull it to his face seemed suddenly quite more than he could muster, and it fell to the floor.
He shook his head, hands covering his eyes, the light around him harsh and grating.
Taking a deep breath, he slowly made his way back to the counter where he'd left his night clothes. Halfway there, he pulled his hands away, needing to see where he was going. The overhead fluorescents buzzed and echoed in his head, light flooding his eyes, and he had to close them for a second until they readjusted, cracking them open a millimeter at a time as he peered towards the counter.
It was then that he saw it.
Sitting innocently on the tile mere inches from his pile of clothes.
As if he'd simply forgotten it.
An exacto-knife.
He inhaled so quickly, he almost choked, tears welling up in his eyes as his vision began to spin. He shook his head with an abrupt jerk, wrenching his eyes away in protest, but even as he did, he felt his heart leap into his throat, throbbing in his temples.
Lips trembling, he looked back up, the knife lying there, tip sharpened and gleaming in the light from above. Swallowing hard, he slid his wet feet across the tile, one step, two. He couldn't hear, the world twisting and turning in front of him.
It was smooth in his palm. A perfect fit.
His fingers grazed the dull metallic sides, thumb tracing the slender cylinder before he took it in both hands, blade trembling as his breath rolled hot from his lips, fogging the glinting metal.
He licked his lips.
He couldn't think.
Tiles were beginning to crumble around him as his world eroded.
The sharpened tip shuddered and quivered and danced between his hands as his arms raised the blade towards his face.
Closer.
He was hyperventilating, biting down on his tongue to keep the tears from rolling down his cheeks.
Closer.
He couldn't even see it anymore.
It was mere centimeters from his eye, all glossy and wet, trembling against his lashes.
He let out a cracked sob.
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Taichi awoke to lights outside his window. He sat up with a shake of his head, cheek red from where it'd been smashed against his desk, glasses skewed with drool leaking down from between his lips to form a wet pool on the page of his book. He blinked once, twice, then brought his hands up to rub at his eyes in confusion as he pushed his glasses back on his nose.
"What's-...?"
The lights were blinking blue, red, white, flashing in front of his vision from across the darkness of campus, and he could see figures out on the grass.
He looked around him, his room the same as it had been before he'd fallen asleep, and Sakamoto still nowhere in sight. He groaned and massaged his temple, reaching aimlessly for the nearby clock and turning it towards him.
10:34.
Another groan. He closed his eyes, lethargy still tugging on his eyelids and dulling his senses.
Back to sleep.
Back to sleep...
He started, opening his eyes again, this time his brows furrowing and his pupils sharp.
Wicker. Those lights were coming from Wicker.
His stomach gurgled with a dull ache as his chest clenched tight around his heart.
"Shit!"
Stumbling to his feet, he nearly tripped as he scuttled towards the door, grabbing his jacket from off the rack and pulling it around himself as he slipped into his shoes, not even bothering with the laces as he ran out into the hall. His footsteps thundered around him, out-of-sync with his heart and creating a turbulent cacophony in his head that did little to ease the fear that gripped the back of his mind.
He took the stairs three at a time, finally zipping up his jacket as he escaped into the chilly night air and started out across campus. The breeze bit at his eyes, tinged his skin as his breath poured hot, visible from between his lips, ribs groaning at the sudden exertion of energy.
The crowd around Wicker reminded him of a few nights prior, and for a second, he wondered if he'd gone back in time. If he'd fallen asleep and his spirit had traversed the threads of time and space to repeat the same night over again, doomed to relive the same series of days again and again.
But even as he drew closer, he knew that something was different this time. There were more vehicles. More commotion. He heard a wail from one side of the crowd, police officers shouting at the students who'd formed a ring around the front of the dorm.
The stone in his gut grew heavier, rolling around in his intestines and nearly making him sick as he slowed his run to a quick walking pace, nearing the edge of the throng and frantically peering through the bodies.
He couldn't see.
Jabbing one hand in front of him, he ducked down and began shoving people out of the way as he squeezed through, ramming his head into someone's backside before quickly veering off in the other direction and pulling himself between two boys he recognized from the football team.
"What's going on?"
He said it to nobody in particular, his voice warbling. But nobody answered, hushed whispers and stifled sobs the only sounds from amongst those who watched.
Two uniformed men carried a stretcher out from the front entrance of Wicker, a white cloth hiding the body from sight. Taichi felt his breath get sucked into his lungs as his eyes shook, heavy dread settling down on his shoulders and in his gut.
"Sh-... shit..."
The stretcher was loaded into the nearby ambulance, up and into the back where a set of doctors simply looked down at it in silence. Not more than a minute later, another stretcher was carried out, and Taichi found himself unable to breathe, muscles locking up across his body.
The stretcher rounded the curve of the sidewalk, tottering between the two men who held its either side. A gust of wind tugged and pulled at the white sheet lying on top, and Taichi caught glimpses of red, bloodied tissue through the fluttering edges, hushed cries escaping from the crowd around him.
He felt sick, stomach turning in on itself as his arms circle his abdomen.
"Oh, fuck..." He clenched his eyes shut as his world started to spin, images of Tatsuya eviscerated, splayed out like a doll with its stuffing removed on the floor of room 413 throbbing on off in his mind.
"Taichi?"
He brought his hands to his head, shutting everything out, grinding his teeth together as his heart thud-thudded in his chest, uneven and carving through his thoughts.
"Taichi!"
An arm yanked on his shoulder pulling him out of his trance as his eyes shot open, pupils like pinpricks trembling in seas of white.
"Hiroshi...?" His hands lowered from his head, fingers still trembling but the world slowing down around him as he took in Nagano's ragged features, the other boy's eyes dark, sunken, half-crazed as he searched Taichi's face desperately. "H-Hiroshi, what's wrong?"
Nagano's fingers curled into the fabric of Taichi's jacket, his mouth twitching. "It's Asaka and Inocchi, Taichi. It's Asaka and Inocchi."
"What?!" Taichi felt a knife twist in his heart, jabbing at his chest as the air rushed out of him.
"I saw them... I saw them." Nagano's eyes widened, trembling amidst the dark green wrinkles that surrounded the sockets as his voice crackled and hissed. "I got a call from Masa. He s-said to gather everyone up because he had something important to t-tell us all. Th-that it was urgent. So I went to Asaka's room." His voice grew even more strained, face knotting in horror. "A-and I saw them. I saw them. Taichi, all their skin was peeled off. Like pigs. Like pigs!!"
Nagano was shaking now, his fingers locked into Taichi's jacket so tight Taichi could register the trembling through the fabric. "H-Hiroshi, it's ok, it's ok." Taichi reached forward, patting Nagano's shoulders and massaging the sides of his arms even as his own lungs fought to breathe. "Everything'll... it'll be... ok..."
He tasted blood in his mouth before he'd even registered that he was biting down on his own tongue.
And then the knife in his heart twisted again.
"Shige."
He jerked upright, head on a swivel as he searched desperately through the crowd.
"Hiroshi, have you seen Shige?"
"Wh-what?" Nagano looked confused, the bright lights the police had fashioned outside the perimeter of the dorm making his skin look a ghastly, greenish pale.
"Shige! Oh god, oh shit." Taichi turned on his heels, head pounding as his eyes scoured the crowd, faces flooding his vision but none of them familiar, none of them recognizable. "SHIGE!" His voice croaked and groaned even as he shouted, his throat so tight it felt like nails were scratching up the length of his trachea.
He wasn't there.
He wasn't there.
Breath quickening, he held a hand to his chest, fingers digging into the fabric of his jacket to claw at his skin as he stared at the ground, world spinning.
He needed to get inside.
Gaze shooting up towards the entrance of the dorm, his nerves screamed at him, head pulsing. He began walking forward, slowly at first, then picking up speed, away from the circle of the crowd and up along the path leading inside.
"Hey kid, we can't let anyone go inside."
He barely even registered the police officer who started towards him, concentrating on his feet, on the pounding footsteps that took him closer and closer.
"Hey kid! I told you to stop!"
The police officer held a hand out, and Taichi took off at a run, scrambling up the steps and into the building even as the other officers let out a shout.
He swerved around the corner of the main office, then took off for the stairs, loud and clanging in his ears as he took them two at a time, up, up, nearly tumbling out onto the second floor.
"Shige!" He raced down the hall, horror building up in his stomach and threatening to burst. Hand to the knob of Joshima's door, he wrenched it open, half-afraid to look, but all he saw inside was an empty room, the lamp on the bedside table illuminating the recently unmade bed in a soft, comforting light.
"Shige?" Taichi took a step inside, voice quivering. His eyes scanned the perimeter of the room, roving over the desk, the closet, the bed, the shelves. He felt his breath stick in his throat as he tried to swallow, mouth so dry it made him gag.
He backed up into the hall, searching the long empty corridor. A faint steam was curling out of the vent holes in the top of the door to the bathroom. Licking his lips, Taichi let the door to Joshima's room close with a click. A second later his feet were thumping across the carpet towards the bathroom, steam billowing out into his face as he pushed the door open.
"Shige? Shige, are you in here?" His shoes squeaked on the wet floor, hot steam filling his lungs and making his head light, fuzzy. He stepped further in, his eyes quaking, tightening at the trail of red running through the cracks in the tile towards his feet. "Shige...?" Only his voice was quiet now, barely whispered, just making it past his lips.
Another step. The steam started to clear around him, the trail of blood widening into a pool.
Taichi felt someone kick him in the gut, and he almost had to bend over, hands clutching his abdomen as his body shook in horror. He couldn't move, the scene imprinting on his eyes as his face twisted in horrified panic.
Then he was stumbling forward, legs useless as he fell to the ground and crawled over to the body splayed on the floor.
"No."
His hands wrapped around Joshima's midsection, pulling him up into his lap.
"No, no, no."
Don't do this to me.
He bent over, holding the other boy close, hands roving his body, shaking his shoulders, unable to look away, unable to stop from seeing the two gaping holes in the other's face where his eyes had once been, fleshy lesions oozing thick, clotted blood down his cheeks to paint the tile below.
"No, no, no, no, no."
He didn't even realize his own face was soaked in tears, his body now curled around Joshima's head and holding it to his chest, blood soaking up through the fabric of his jacket as his shoulders shook and his body rocked back and forth, back and forth. He wrapped his fingers in Joshima's hair, pawing at the wet locks and pressing his chin to the other's forehead as his jaw froze open in silent sobs.
Don't leave me all alone.
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"Taichi."
He didn't register the voice at first. It was coming somewhere from above him, in a mass of swirling colors that tinted and stained his vision, threatening to pull him back to reality.
"Taichi."
There was a hand on his shoulder, shaking him, and even as he tried to hold on to his grip in the ephemeral world of his mind, he felt it slipping, his body falling backwards, slipping off the edge of the cliff as the hand pulled on his collar, dragging him down into the abyss of colors.
"Taichi, wake up."
He opened his eyes, slowly, just barely cracking them open as the light bit at his retinas, pounding into his head. He moaned, turning over in the plastic chair and pulling the emergency blanket tighter around his shoulders.
"...go away."
He felt a shudder in the chair around him, and then two hands were on his shoulders and pulling him forward. For a second, he feared he was going to fall out of the chair, but just as his stomach began to recoil in terror, he felt a warm body in front of him and a sturdy set of arms wrap around his frame.
Opening his eyes in surprise, he saw the fabric of Sakamoto's jacket inches away from his nose.
"Shit, I didn't know what to think when I heard."
Sakamoto was shaking, though his jaw was set tight as he held Taichi to his chest, the other boy silent as the memories of reality flooded back into him like knives through his gut.
They said nothing for a good minute, Sakamoto kneeling in the middle of the hallway in front of the chair Taichi'd passed out on, simply holding him as the two of them regrouped their bearings.
Then Taichi pulled away with a start, eyes like saucers as they searched Sakamoto's face.
"Asaka... Inocchi...?"
Sakamoto's eyes darkened and he pressed his lips together, not even looking at Taichi as he shook his head morosely.
Taichi's hands jerked out from the safety of his blanket, fingers curling into Sakamoto's jacket as he shook him desperately. "Sh-Shige? Shige too? Is he...? O-oh god, I can't, I-I can't-"
Sakamoto's hands came down firmly on Taichi's shoulders, eyes sharpening as he locked onto the other's gaze. "Calm down, calm down. Shige's not dead."
Taichi felt a strange chill wash through his body, and his muscles released the built-up tension, nothing but a dull ache left behind. Nausea curled up in his stomach, roiling around in his gut, and he brought a hand to his mouth, fearing he was going to wretch all over the floor.
"Hey, hey, hey, hey..."
Sakamoto moved up to the chair next to him, one arm around his frame as his other hand stroked the top of his head. "It's ok, it's ok..."
Taichi's face lost its sickly green color, replaced by clammy pale as he let out a shuddered breath. Flecks of spittle clung to his lips as he closed his eyes and simply breathed.
"It's ok..." Sakamoto gave his back another rub, pressing his forehead to Taichi's shoulder.
"Where are we?"
"The hospital."
Taichi shook his head weakly, straining his eyes as he finally took in his surroundings. They were in a small waiting area, an empty receptionist's desk nearby, but a few nurses and orderlies walking past them every couple of minutes. The fluorescent lights reflected in the shiny marbled tile that covered the floor.
Sakamoto sat back up, one hand still absentmindedly rubbing Taichi's knee. "Do you remember what happened?"
Taichi furrowed his brows, tongue dry in his mouth as he searched back through his mind. The tile in the hallway turned brown, slick with water, a little red trail working its way down past his vision. He shook his head abruptly, clenching his eyes shut. "N-... no... not after-..."
"It's ok, it's ok." Sakamoto cut him off before he could say anymore.
Taichi sat back in his chair with a slump, pulling the emergency blanket he just now realized he had no recollection of receiving tighter around his frame. "...what time is it?"
Sakamoto glanced down at his watch. "3:25 a.m."
"When did you get here?"
"Just a little bit ago. I had no idea any of it happened-I wasn't even on campus. And when I got back, most of the commotion was over, but I called Hiroshi. He was all jittery and panicked and told me what happened, so I drove over as fast as I could.
I had no idea what I would find here, as Hiroshi wasn't even making much sense by the end of it... but I went and checked on Shige before waking you up, I-... I-I wanted to know, before... yeah..."
Taichi turned his head up towards Sakamoto, hesitant.
"...how is he?"
"Not in a good way, but. Alive. At least." Sakamoto pressed his lips together, not looking at Taichi. After a few moments he let out a sigh before meeting Taichi's gaze. "Do you wanna see him?"
Taichi felt his stomach gurgle, fingertips cold, but he nodded his head, voice tiny and barely audible. "...I'd like that, yeah."
Joshima was hooked up to an IV in the hospital bed, chest barely even moving as he breathed, looking lost in the mess of white sheets. His head was wrapped in a heavy gauze, covering his empty eye sockets, hair limp across the top. His lips had lost their normal pink tinge, now a dull grayish blue, and his skin was clammy and pale, red crust gathered just beneath the gap between his skin and the bandage.
Taichi stood next to the bed, holding the blanket around his shoulders as he stared down at the almost lifeless doll in the middle of the bed.
"This is all my fault..."
Sakamoto shook his head with a sigh. "Nothing's your fault, Taichi."
Taichi bit down on his lip, tasting blood as his eyes tightened. "Don't you get it? It's only going after us. If I'd never gotten involved with him, he-..." He almost choked, dry spit gathering in the back of his throat.
"Taichi, hush. We don't know any of that." Sakamoto's hand came up to his shoulder, rubbing it reassuringly.
Taichi took a step forward, reaching his hand out towards the bed and finding Joshima's fingers, lacing his own through them as he knelt down. He tried to remember when those same fingers had been warm and soft, guiding his hands around his hips as their lips had pressed against each other. Now they lay still against the bedsheets, cold and unmoving even as Taichi's fingers wound between them in hopeful encouragement.
His face was lax, emotionless beneath the thick wraps of gauze. Those big, round, owlish eyes would never look at him again. Would never again smile at him in mirth. Would never again crinkle as he laughed at something Taichi'd said, bubbles against the back of Taichi's neck.
Taichi let out a shuddered breath, head resting against the side of the bed in defeat.
Sakamoto backed away silently, face grim as he took a seat in one of the chairs against the wall, fingers laced together in his lap.
After another minute, Taichi stood back up, one finger tracing up Joshima's arm before he was backing up too, seating himself in the chair next to Sakamoto with a dejected whump.
"What are we gonna do, Masa? What are we gonna do?" Taichi's voice shuddered in the silent room.
Sakamoto didn't answer for a moment.
Then.
"Finish what we started."
Taichi turned his head upwards in surprise, eyes tightening. "Is that all you can think of?"
Sakamoto's face hardened as he narrowed his eyes at Taichi. "You realize people are just gonna keep dying unless we see this through to the end, don't you?" He moved forward towards Taichi almost instinctively. "Hell, you, me, Hiroshi... we'll probably be the next ones to go! And then there'll be no one left to know what's going on in that building. No one left to try and put a stop to this thing. And it'll just keep picking people off one by one. Sure, they may close the dorm, but what's to keep Cuttle from leaving now that he's been freed from that room? If we don't stop him, no one else will."
Taichi's face turned green again, and he wrenched his gaze away, staring down at his hands. He remained silent, small and hunched over beneath his blanket.
"...you saw what the police did. Nothing. They didn't believe a single word we said. Nobody's going to know what to do if we're not here. Nobody'll be able to do anything. They're all incompetent nincompoops!" Sakamoto shook his head with a grimace.
Taichi clasped and re-clasped his hands, eyes boring down into the tile beneath their feet. "But what can we do?
Sakamoto was silent for a moment. "...we need to reseal him in that room."
"How are we supposed to do that?"
"I made a friend. At the basilica. One of the reverends there. He's been helping me do research. Teaching me a lot."
Taichi blinked. "...and?"
"I'll ask him to help us. He... knows a lot about this kind of stuff. If I let him know how dire the circumstances have become, I know he'll be willing to help. He's taught me all about these old types of powers and spirits and the seals that bind them."
"And what if it doesn't work?"
Sakamoto scratched the top of his head, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "I don't... know. I don't know." He glanced over, brows furrowed. "But... I suppose we'll get to that when the time comes. If it comes."
Taichi's expression didn't change, grim look of apprehension staining his features. "What happens when Cuttle tries to attack us? You've seen what he did to Tatsuya. To Asaka, Inocchi, and Shige. We-..." He lowered his head, fingers digging into his cheeks. "...we don't even know what happened to them. We don't know what it is that Cuttle does to-... to them..." His gaze rose warily to Joshima on the bed, eyes glassy.
Sakamoto followed his gaze, eyes settling on the bandages wrapped tight around Joshima's skull. "I know. That's part of the problem. But I-..." He bit down on his lip. "I think I have a better idea of... of what he's after now. Of what he wants." And then under his breath. "Even if I'm not yet sure how exactly he gets it."
Taichi didn't move, his shoulders rising up and down with each breath. "Do you have some sort of plan then?"
No response. Sakamoto turned towards Taichi, eyes running up and down his frame. "I need you to act as bait."
Taichi's eyes opened wide at this, and he spun in his chair to stare at the other boy in disbelief. "You want me to what?"
Sakamoto's hands came up to calm him down. "Hear me out, hear me out." His fingers curled around Taichi's shoulders, giving them a reassuring little massage. "It'll only be until we can get the seal ready. If you go into the room and distract Cuttle, we'll be able to set up the seal from the outside without having to worry about him attacking us or getting in our way. Once we're ready, we pull you out, Reverend Edmund says the chant, does all that stuff with his hands, you know, then boom, the room is sealed, Cuttle's out of our lives, we throw away the key, board up the fourth floor permanently this time, and bada-bing, bada-boom, we save the day."
Taichi blinked, staring at Sakamoto in silence. He turned back around chewing on his bottom lip. "You make it sound so easy."
"Well, I do doubt it'll go over quite that smoothly, but..."
Taichi ran a hand through his hair, eyes trained on some invisible speck of dust in the air, unfocused. "How do you know the seal will work? Wasn't he sealed before?"
Sakamoto shook his head. "It was only a physical seal before. The door itself, remember? And as the door aged over the years, the seal weakened. This will be the real deal. A holy seal to lock in demons. They last for thousands of years, so long as we can keep that door off-limits."
Taichi continued to fidget, eyes narrowing. "And what if you can't... get it ready in time? How long would I have to stay..." His breath hitched in his throat. "...in that room?"
Sakamoto's face fell as he looked over at Taichi, corners of his mouth pointed down. "We'd have you out of there as soon as possible, I promise. Before Cuttle can do anything." His hand came up to take Taichi's shoulder, gripping it with a confident little squeeze. "...and I have this strange little feeling that..."
Taichi's eyes sharpened, vision coming into focus.
"...Cuttle's intrigued by you."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Campus was like a ghost town the next day. Wicker was roped off, evacuated, the remaining students told to relocate their things as soon as possible into housing the school quickly tried to find for all the displaced residents. Barely anyone walked the sidewalks between the buildings, classes canceled and students and teachers alike attempting to escape from the unsettling atmosphere that had settled across the entirety of campus. Police cars pulled in and out of the driveway by Wicker, investigators and detectives coming to scope out the crime scenes and question the last of the students on their ways out for any information or eyewitness accounts they could piece together.
Sakamoto took Taichi back to their dorm and told him to sleep-he'd been up most of the night, and what sleep he had gotten hadn't been restful. He'd need to be alert when they broke into Wicker that night with the reverend. Once he'd gotten Taichi's pants off and his form was curled up in the sheets of his bed, Sakamoto began packing up his own things, books into his pack before he set out across town.
By the time he creaked open the door the of St. James Basilica, it was late morning, the sun high in the sky but sheltered behind potentially ominous clouds and offering little warmth. The sound of the door echoed throughout the wide hall, seeming to ricochet off every corner and curl into every nook. The stained-glass windows that lined the walls on both sides were dull of color, a scarcity of light trickling in, and the fake candles which lined the pews did little to lighten the almost musty atmosphere.
Readjusting his bookbag on his shoulders, he walked forward across the beige carpeting, past alcoves where groups of candles burned atop miniature altars, past statues of Jesus and the Virgin Mary that stared at him with unchanging porcelain eyes, past pew after pew and further into the sanctuary, towards the white altar on the stage to the front, ciborium towering up above his head the closer his steps took him.
He stopped just before the stage and its deep red carpeting, looking up at the cross above the canopy, flowers and candles adorning its base. Pausing for a minute, he took a shuddered breath, then walked off towards the left, past the line of pews and into the darkness of the overhang where the light from the candles couldn't reach. He didn't stop until he made it to the door in the far corner, hand coming up to rest on its bronze knob and turning it to the side with a soft click.
Reverend Edmund looked up at the sound as the door creaked open, cassock crisp and neatly ironed and eyes peeking out questionably from above his half-rimmed glasses.
"Masayuki. This is a surprise. Back so soon?"
Sakamoto's lips pressed together into a tight line as he let the door swing shut behind him.
"There's been a change in plans."
Taichi awoke to the sound of his phone vibrating. It was soft, almost inaudible, but close enough to his pillow that the vibrations reverberated through the light cotton, his sleep light enough at that point that the tickling on his lashes woke him from slumber.
With a little shake of his head, he pushed himself up with his arms, eyes still blurry and mind still wrapped in fuzzy pink insulation that made it hard to think and even harder to swallow, the inside of his mouth coated in sticky bile.
"Ugh..."
He rubbed at his face, body still half-hidden in the folds of his blankets, before his hand was groping towards his glasses. Sliding them blindly onto his nose, he searched next for his phone. It stopped vibrating before he found it, the phone still in his hand as he flipped it open to reveal a new text message.
Wicker at 9.
He let out a little groan before flopping back down on the bed, pillow ballooning around his head with a whump of air. He stayed there until he felt a dribble of drool leak out between his lips to stain the white pillow cover, then reluctantly sat himself up and dragged his feet over the edge of the bed.
What time was it, anyway?
7:28.
He'd slept the whole day.
Drearily limping across the carpet, he swung his hand inside his closet, groping for clothes. He pulled a hoodie off one of the hangers, then yanked a used pair of jeans out of his hamper and began to change, the shirt he'd been wearing damp with sweat and stained red from the scene in the bathroom the previous night.
Once changed, he swung his jacket around his shoulders and laced up his shoes, tromping out into the hallway.
The dinner hour was long past, but he'd still be able to make it to late-night, the two-hour long interval between seven and nine for students who weren't able to make it to normal dining hours (or for those with late-night munchies). The chill of the outside air sharpened his eyes and senses, and by the time he'd made it to the cafeteria, he was almost fully awake, the only signs he'd just woken up being the red crease still lingering on his cheek and the mussed hair he hadn't even bothered combing.
He was silent as he scooped up the soggy shredded wheat from his bowl into his mouth. The cafeteria was practically empty, none of the tables around him occupied and the only voices coming from a far-off booth where two sullen-faced boys were munching on a pizza. A tinny jingle was echoing out from the speakers above his head, an advertisement for indigestion medication. He closed his eyes against it as his jaw slopped up and down, up and down, thick, clumpy cereal sliding down his throat.
One of the work-study cafeteria employees greeted him as he set his finished tray on the dish rack, carrying a pile of freshly-washed plates in her hands.
"Have a nice night."
He grunted in response, running a hand through his hair as he started back out into the night air.
8:47.
8:48.
He felt like his minutes were ticking away, dribbling down through his fingers to lie scattered at his feet in the grass. His dinner had done little to diminish the vile taste in his mouth, bitter tang tumbling down the back of his throat as the wind whipped against him.
By the time he'd made it to Wicker, he couldn't feel his legs anymore, useless twigs buzzing in his jeans that threatened to collapse at a moment's notice. He licked his lips, tongue fat and clumsy. The building itself loomed up above his head, shutters flapping on the roof and windows dark, chipping away at the makeshift barrier he'd built around his heart.
He swallowed.
Hard.
The front entrance was covered in yellow police tape, barring his entry, so he simply stood behind the nearby pine tree, nettles poking at his skin while the seconds tick-ticked away in his head.
His phone vibrated in his pocket.
The sensation sent a jolt of electricity up his spine, thoughts so focused on the building in front of him that the reality shock made his brain jump. He pulled the phone out, flipping it open.
Around back.
Clicking it back shut, he pulled his jacket tight around his body and half-jogged across the soggy turf to the backside of the building.
No one.
It was dark, surrounding trees not even visible in the lack of light and the temperature dropping in the shadows. His head spun on a swivel, eyes scouring the darkness for any sign of movement.
"Taichi."
He spun around, the hissed voice tickling the back of his neck.
"Taichi."
Again.
His heart was pounding in his temples as his pupils dilated.
He was jerked to the side, a hand clenched at the sleeve of his jacket. Almost falling, he stumbled forward towards one of the darker shadows he assumed was a tree, wet mud slick around his shoes.
"Masayuki?" He tried to peer through the darkness, but he couldn't make out anything more than a few fuzzy outlines.
"It's me." There was a pause, and Taichi could almost imagine the other boy nodding. "I'm here with Reverend Edmund."
"So we're... really doing this, huh?"
"We're finishing this tonight."
A chill ran down Taichi's spine as he turned back towards the building, now back-lit from the faint light of campus beyond. "...how are we getting in?"
"Downstairs window. We already jarred one of the windows open." Sakamoto's voice was strangely light, buoyant in the darkness, as though he were describing the night's dinner plans. "There were some cops around earlier, but all of them have left now. Building should be completely empty."
"Yeah, of living people..." The sides of Taichi's mouth pulled back in a cringe.
The three of them started out across the grass towards the building, hidden in shadow and noiseless under cover of wind. Sakamoto felt along the wall until he reached the first window, his hands sliding across the glass.
"...not this one."
They moved to the left, Sakamoto feeling ahead of him, fingers tracing brick until he'd made it to the next window, following the same procedure as before. This time he stopped, fingers finding the gap between window and frame, just slightly ajar, before pulling it open. It came with a dull creak, metal crank on the inside no doubt rusted from years of use and misuse. He kept pulling, giving it a few jerks when it stuck, until the gap was wide enough for the three of them to fit through.
"You first."
Taichi felt a hand on his shoulder. With a little grimace, he padded towards the wall, dirt even more waterlogged near the building and giving beneath his shoes in sloppy, wet goops. Arms through the open window, he pulled himself inside, tottering on the threshold between out and in with his rear end in the air until Sakamoto gave him a push on the rump, landing him unceremoniously in a pile on the floor.
He let out a groan, holding his head, but had his wits about him enough to move out of the way before another body landed in the spot he'd recently occupied.
They were in somebody's room. It was too dark to make out most of the furniture, but the nearby bed was evidence enough. Once the three of them were huddled by the open window, Sakamoto began pulling flashlights out of his bag, handing one to both Taichi and the reverend.
Taichi clicked his on, Sakamoto's grimy, wet hair the first thing to illuminate in the darkness. He pointed it towards the reverend who'd just clicked his on as well, the lenses of his glasses reflecting back the glow.
Without a word, Sakamoto motioned them towards the door, and they took off, Taichi's flashlight tracing the walls of the room before they left to reveal posters of horses and a neatly tidied desk.
The building creaked around them, haunting in the silence as they made their way to the stairwell on the other side of the floor. It echoed in Taichi's ears, up and around and through the walls, deep, heavy groans that reverberated in the air and made the hair on the back of his neck twist and turn.
His chest felt stuffy, constricted, shadows curling around him and carding through his hair as the light from his flashlight trembled.
Up the stairs. The metal moaned beneath their feet, abnormally loud in the stairwell. Taichi gripped the railing tight in his hand, palm already slick with sweat and leaving sticky residue on the cold surface. None of them said a word as they made the pilgrimage upstairs, breaths growing heavier as they passed floor after floor before emerging into the hallway that had been haunting Taichi's dreams.
It spun, twisted, spiraled in his vision, but his feet didn't stop. His feet couldn't stop, frozen in step behind Sakamoto and urging his body forward even as the twinges behind his eyes grew sharp and his stomach roiled.
413.
The door.
The door.
It was roped off with the same yellow police tape as the front entrance, and Sakamoto stepped forward to yank it down, the sound of it brittle and dry as it fell to the floor.
"This is the room, huh?" Reverend Edmund had his flashlight trained on the surface of the door, eyes invisible beneath the glare of his glasses.
"This is it, alright. Where everything started."
"We should work quickly then. Time is of the essence." The reverend slid the bag off his shoulder, kneeling on the ground and rifling through its contents.
Sakamoto turned to Taichi, his face grim, but a sad little smile playing on his lips. Taichi felt his stomach toss and turn before curling in on itself.
"We'll have you out of there as soon as possible, ok?"
"Right..."
"Just be strong. Use that wit of yours." Sakamoto's hand came down on his head as if he were patting a dog, and Taichi cringed, pulling away.
"You owe me big for this, you know."
"Yeah, yeah. I'll take you out for breakfast tomorrow. All you can eat."
Taichi smiled, the gesture almost betraying the rapid fluttering of his heart. Sakamoto reached forward and gripped him in an awkward little side hug before Taichi's hand rose up to the handle of the door, the metal cool, sparking with a strange, chilled electricity. He licked his lips and cracked it open, flashlight at the ready as the black mouth in front of him widened to encompass his mind.
"See you guys on the other side."
His voice didn't waver this time.
He found this funny as he stepped through the rift.
Part Six
The air was crisp when Taichi stepped outside the dorm doors. It swirled into his lungs as he breathed in, the scent of fall, of burnt leaves, of lingering rain, marbling together and expanding in his chest before he breathed them back out, the stinging chill opening his eyes and awakening him from the half-slumber he'd been fighting for the last two hours cooped up in his room reading through the book Sakamoto had told him to peruse.
It was invigorating. All that fresh air lying in wait outside, delightfully chilly and working its way into his bones, sharpening his mind.
He walked out onto the nearest path, the sidewalk covered in crunchy leaves that crackled and popped beneath his feet like a symphony. Passing a few students, he let his gaze travel up to the surrounding trees, now half-bare, all tangled messes of branches and limbs, dirty and brown as they gave up their clothes of reds and yellows to the ground below.
His chest ached. A strange resonance that tickled behind his lungs and spread through the capillaries just beneath his skin. Sakamoto'd been gone at least three hours now, maybe four, maybe five. It'd been three hours since Taichi'd seen the note on his desk.
Off to do research.
Don't look for me.
And then.
P.S. Catch up on your ghouls while I'm out. That is, if you're not ransacking a certain senior's ass.
There'd been a book on types of spirits just adjacent to the note. Taichi'd ripped up the yellow post-it, face flushed, but had opened the book obediently, curiosity and dog-like loyalty getting the best of him.
Taichi stretched his arms up above his head, then gingerly pressed his fingers against his chest, feeling the fuzzy twinge spread beneath the pressure. It made his throat itch, and he let out an abrupt cough into his hand.
It was when he stuck his hands back in his pockets that he found it, all smooth plastic that fit perfectly into his palm.
He pulled out the lighter and stared at it, brows furrowed and bottom lip jutted out in a pout.
Fifteen minutes later, he was stepping out of the convenience store down the road with a pack of Newports in his hand. He started back down the sidewalk, bumping the pack against his palm to free one of the cigarettes and placing it between his lips. He held up the lighter.
Then stopped.
Waiting at the light about ten feet away were Tatsuya's parents, Reina standing at their side with her hands crossed in front of her and face dark.
She glanced over at him as if feeling his presence, eyes glassy as they took in Taichi's figure.
"Shit. Reina." Taichi couldn't move for a second, rooted to the spot with the cigarette still poised awkwardly to the side of his mouth and one hand holding the lighter to the tip.
Reina just looked at him, eyes tightening and fingers curling around each other. Then she ran forward wordless, arms curling around Taichi's neck from above as she buried her face into his shoulder.
"Sh-shit-!" Taichi nearly dropped the lighter, quickly lowering his hands. He held his arms out to the side for a moment in startled confusion, then brought them around Reina's frame, holding her waist softly. "Reina..."
He felt her chest heave against him as she breathed in and out, tears staining his jacket, but she remained silent, not a word escaping her lips as she cried against him.
Taichi felt his own eyes start to water, and he didn't even blink them away as he held her tighter, the two of them standing on the edge of campus as the autumn breeze curled rust-colored leaves around their feet.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"It smells in here."
"Oh hush, you. It's not that bad. And it's not like we can use your room since your roommate's studying."
Inocchi smiled down at the little smirk on Asaka's face. "I suppose you make a good point." He ducked down, pressing their lips together softly at first, then harder, tilting his head as she let out a pleased murmur. "And we wouldn't wanna wait, hm?" The words rolled off his tongue as he pulled away just enough to speak. "Because you know how much I..." Another kiss. "...hate to..." Again. "...wait."
Asaka smiled against his lips, arms wrapped around his neck and pulling him closer, pressed against her on top of the bed, bodies tight.
"Of course I know." She pushed her lips against his neck as his knees sank into the mattress to her either side. "So you'll have to put up with the smell for a bit..."
Soon their clothes were forgotten, strewn to various sides of the bed, scattered on the floor below. Asaka's legs were curled around Inocchi's hips, his hands buried in the sheets as he thrusted forward, each jerk sending him deeper inside her.
"Shit, oh fuck, Ino..."
Asaka's eyes were closed, teeth biting down on her bottom lip as her head angled back into the pillow. Inocchi was sweating above her, breath caught in the back of his lungs as he focused his energy into each and every sensation, each and every movement of his pelvis and the delightful friction that sent shocks of pleasure swirling up across the length of his back. Asaka's hips bucked against him, rising to meet him, wanting more, needing more, beckoning him deeper and faster as her moans rose in pitch.
"Fuck, you're beautiful..." Inocchi lowered his head even as his lower-half kept the rhythm going, lips pressing against her collar bone and traveling up her neck, nipping at the skin, tongue lapping at the sweat forming beneath her hairline. Her hands went to his shoulders, massaging them beneath her palms, nails biting into his skin and leaving miniature red indents.
Inocchi moaned against her throat, lips tracing the curve of her neck. He sucked up on a small patch of skin, playing at it with his lips, with his teeth, biting down until he tasted copper on his tongue, then pulled back. There was a tiny tear on the side of her neck, red visible and the tiniest dribble oozing up from inside the scratch, staining his eyes. He leaned back down, unable to wrench his eyes away, red monopolizing his vision as he took the tiny split back between his lips, sucking up on it, rolling it over and over, teeth gnawing at it and splitting it further apart.
Asaka responded by digging her nails deeper into his back, breaking open the skin, sticky wetness trickling up around her nails as they embedded themselves into his back like talons, carving into the tissue.
Inocchi pulled away, breath caught in his throat and his eyes black, glassy, like marbles in their sockets. His body quivered, hips stopping in their fervent thrusts as he stared down at Asaka's neck, face strangely blank. He brought a finger up, teasing the new opening on the side of her neck, the torn skin bending and folding beneath the pressure as blood seeped from the opening to begin trailing down the side of her throat.
He pinched one of the flaps between his thumb and index finger, almost as if curious, then began pulling. It resisted at first, stretching up at the tug like rubber, then it slowly tore, sinews weakening and pulling apart as he increased the pressure. He kept pulling, the flap of skin separating from muscle as it ripped further and further down the line of her neck, blood bubbling up from the lesion and soaking the bedsheets beneath it.
She gasped, head arching back into the pillow as her fingers dug further into his shoulders, curling inwards and tearing at the flesh of his back, ripping it off the muscle.
The entire side of her neck was now a pink, fleshy mass, bloodied skin flapping off to the side as he finished ripping off the section of flesh. Her throat quivered, muscles pulsating as she breathed and swallowed and moaned, his fingers finding the bottom edge of the laceration and picking at it with his fingernails until he could tear off another piece. Her skin curled and yielded to his fingers as they pecked and tugged, her chest and throat barely visible beneath the pool of red bubbling up from the veins popping and bursting with each new portion of skin removed.
Her own hands were at work on his back, now a mass of flayed tissue and flesh, hunks of skin falling off as her nails bit into him again and again, tearing at his shoulders and ripping slices of it off to decorate the sheets, blood running rivers down his spine, across his waist and hips. Her eyes gazed up at him, the same black color and urging him onwards, groan overtaking her chest as both his hands began clawing at her breasts, carving chunks of skin from the exposed tissue all the way down to the bone, her lungs gasping for air as her back arched up off the mattress.
"Inocchi... Inocchi, oh god..."
Shreds of flesh hung off her fingers as her hands roved upwards, tearing lines up his neck until they reached his face, nails sinking deep into his cheeks with a squelch, thick, sticky redness leaking down her wrists as she began pulling the skin off his face.
His own hands had already reached her stomach, pulling off chunk after chunk of skin and flesh as his fingers carved into the soft tissue of her waist, ripping and tearing into the trembling tissue as the pink of her intestines shone exposed through the lacerated muscles.
"I'm gonna... o-oh god, I'm gonna-...!"
Her hips arched up off the bed as her strangled voice bit into the air, chunky blood running down the sides of her hips to decorate the bedsheets.
And then her eyes rolled back in her head as she came. Her body spasmed with a heavy groan as she collapsed onto the mattress, hands tightening around Inocchi's throat as her fingers plunged through his trachea with a shuddered squelch.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Joshima was rifling through his closet, hands searching through stacks of folded clothes before pulling out an old t-shirt and a pair of boxers, looping them over his arm before reaching down to pick up the plastic tub with his shampoo, soap and deodorant lined up neatly inside. He'd already pulled the covers of his bed down, all perfectly folded corners and crisp white beneath the navy blue of his comforter that seemed to beckon him into the cozy cocoon, but he wasn't one to go to sleep without showering. He padded over towards the rack where his towel hung, throwing it over his shoulder before slipping his plastic sandals on at the door and skirting outside into the hall.
The dorm was quiet around him. Ever since the water vein had burst, the already-quiet dorm had lulled to an almost death-like silence, even students that hadn't been evacuated from the flood rooming with friends or relatives either to escape the smell of mold or hide from the unearthly chill that had seemed to settle over the building. It was heavy, weighing down the air, and Joshima felt like he was swimming as he wandered down the empty hall to the bathroom.
The bathroom itself was equally as still, not a figure in sight, and no one using any of the toilet stalls or showers. He didn't mind, preferring to be alone as he did his business. He set his plastic tub down on the counter by the mirrors, eyes surveying his face in the reflected glass and grimacing at the dark bags under his eyes. Placing a hair tie between his teeth, he pulled the uneven edges of his hair up towards the top of his head before holding it in place with the tie. He'd just washed his hair the previous day, so he wouldn't need to wash it again until tomorrow.
Pulling his shirt over the top of his head, he let out a little "pwah" as it came loose in his arms, soft fabric dropping to the counter. Looking back to the mirror, he ran his fingers over the scar on his chest and shoulder, tracing the pockmarks and dark-red stains with a frown of disapproval. Fingers lingering on his collar bone for an extra second, he let out a sigh before letting his arm drop, hands to his jeans as he began yanking them down his legs.
Plopping his jeans on top of his shirt, he picked up his plastic tub and towel and clip-clopped his way to the nearest shower stall, looping the towel over the nearby hook. The water was cold when he turned the faucet on, so he stood outside for a moment, hand upturned beneath the spout to gauge the temperature until it had grown sufficiently warm, then slipping past the curtain.
The water felt good on his skin, the dull heat fighting off the chill that resided not only in his skin, but all the way to his bones, warming him from the outside in as he curled his arms around himself. He simply stood with his shoulders beneath the deluge for a few minutes, eyes closed and face to the ceiling as the water ran rivulets down his backside and legs.
Finally, his hand groped outside the curtain to grab his soap, and he squirted a dollop into his palm before slowly rubbing his hands together, delighting in the way the white goo slid and squeezed between his fingers. It glided down his wrists, forming bubbles against his skin which drifted up to his nose and popped against the tip. His lips curled into a soft smile as he began running his hands up and down the lengths of his arms, working back to his shoulders before continuing down his stomach.
Drawing little circles over his hips, his hands slid to his backside, slippery and wet and drifting just above his rear end before slipping down inside, and he felt his face grow warm, memories from a few nights prior swirling at the front of his mind. His smile widened, eyes softening before his hands moved on, painting the entirety of his backside and legs with whitish foam as the water caressed his shoulders.
Standing back up, he pointed the spout towards his lower extremities to wash away the soap.
The back of his neck grew cold.
A breath.
His eyes popped open, and he turned around with a start, breath caught in his lungs.
Nothing.
He couldn't move for a second, just staring at the wet tile on the side of the stall before bringing a hand up to trace the skin of his neck.
The water was starting to grow hot.
It stung against his skin, tiny little prickles that turned the pale white a pinkish hue. Turning back to the handle, he inched it towards the blue mark, but the water didn't change.
Another breath.
He whirled back around, but was met with the same brownish tile as before. His heart was starting to pick up in his chest, reverberating up through his skull as his breathing quickened.
Taking a deep breath, he stood still in the middle of the shower, closing his eyes and focusing, lips pursed together. The water continued to run down his backside, hitting him like tiny little knives as his skin grew darker, the red more pronounced.
One breath.
Two.
Slowly in.
Then out.
He opened his eyes, and his vision shook, heavy breathing surrounding him, soaked into his consciousness. He couldn't tell if it was his own or not.
Bringing a hand to his head, he gazed at the tile on the floor below him, the silver drain crackled with lime and build-up and the water swirling around and around. His stomach was turning flip-flops, threatening to send his dinner back up through his throat.
Hand groping the wall, he found the handle and wrenched it closed, the water stopping with a silent tremor. Giving himself another second to gather himself, he pulled open the curtain, reaching up for his towel, but even as his hands found it, the strength needed to pull it to his face seemed suddenly quite more than he could muster, and it fell to the floor.
He shook his head, hands covering his eyes, the light around him harsh and grating.
Taking a deep breath, he slowly made his way back to the counter where he'd left his night clothes. Halfway there, he pulled his hands away, needing to see where he was going. The overhead fluorescents buzzed and echoed in his head, light flooding his eyes, and he had to close them for a second until they readjusted, cracking them open a millimeter at a time as he peered towards the counter.
It was then that he saw it.
Sitting innocently on the tile mere inches from his pile of clothes.
As if he'd simply forgotten it.
An exacto-knife.
He inhaled so quickly, he almost choked, tears welling up in his eyes as his vision began to spin. He shook his head with an abrupt jerk, wrenching his eyes away in protest, but even as he did, he felt his heart leap into his throat, throbbing in his temples.
Lips trembling, he looked back up, the knife lying there, tip sharpened and gleaming in the light from above. Swallowing hard, he slid his wet feet across the tile, one step, two. He couldn't hear, the world twisting and turning in front of him.
It was smooth in his palm. A perfect fit.
His fingers grazed the dull metallic sides, thumb tracing the slender cylinder before he took it in both hands, blade trembling as his breath rolled hot from his lips, fogging the glinting metal.
He licked his lips.
He couldn't think.
Tiles were beginning to crumble around him as his world eroded.
The sharpened tip shuddered and quivered and danced between his hands as his arms raised the blade towards his face.
Closer.
He was hyperventilating, biting down on his tongue to keep the tears from rolling down his cheeks.
Closer.
He couldn't even see it anymore.
It was mere centimeters from his eye, all glossy and wet, trembling against his lashes.
He let out a cracked sob.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Taichi awoke to lights outside his window. He sat up with a shake of his head, cheek red from where it'd been smashed against his desk, glasses skewed with drool leaking down from between his lips to form a wet pool on the page of his book. He blinked once, twice, then brought his hands up to rub at his eyes in confusion as he pushed his glasses back on his nose.
"What's-...?"
The lights were blinking blue, red, white, flashing in front of his vision from across the darkness of campus, and he could see figures out on the grass.
He looked around him, his room the same as it had been before he'd fallen asleep, and Sakamoto still nowhere in sight. He groaned and massaged his temple, reaching aimlessly for the nearby clock and turning it towards him.
10:34.
Another groan. He closed his eyes, lethargy still tugging on his eyelids and dulling his senses.
Back to sleep.
Back to sleep...
He started, opening his eyes again, this time his brows furrowing and his pupils sharp.
Wicker. Those lights were coming from Wicker.
His stomach gurgled with a dull ache as his chest clenched tight around his heart.
"Shit!"
Stumbling to his feet, he nearly tripped as he scuttled towards the door, grabbing his jacket from off the rack and pulling it around himself as he slipped into his shoes, not even bothering with the laces as he ran out into the hall. His footsteps thundered around him, out-of-sync with his heart and creating a turbulent cacophony in his head that did little to ease the fear that gripped the back of his mind.
He took the stairs three at a time, finally zipping up his jacket as he escaped into the chilly night air and started out across campus. The breeze bit at his eyes, tinged his skin as his breath poured hot, visible from between his lips, ribs groaning at the sudden exertion of energy.
The crowd around Wicker reminded him of a few nights prior, and for a second, he wondered if he'd gone back in time. If he'd fallen asleep and his spirit had traversed the threads of time and space to repeat the same night over again, doomed to relive the same series of days again and again.
But even as he drew closer, he knew that something was different this time. There were more vehicles. More commotion. He heard a wail from one side of the crowd, police officers shouting at the students who'd formed a ring around the front of the dorm.
The stone in his gut grew heavier, rolling around in his intestines and nearly making him sick as he slowed his run to a quick walking pace, nearing the edge of the throng and frantically peering through the bodies.
He couldn't see.
Jabbing one hand in front of him, he ducked down and began shoving people out of the way as he squeezed through, ramming his head into someone's backside before quickly veering off in the other direction and pulling himself between two boys he recognized from the football team.
"What's going on?"
He said it to nobody in particular, his voice warbling. But nobody answered, hushed whispers and stifled sobs the only sounds from amongst those who watched.
Two uniformed men carried a stretcher out from the front entrance of Wicker, a white cloth hiding the body from sight. Taichi felt his breath get sucked into his lungs as his eyes shook, heavy dread settling down on his shoulders and in his gut.
"Sh-... shit..."
The stretcher was loaded into the nearby ambulance, up and into the back where a set of doctors simply looked down at it in silence. Not more than a minute later, another stretcher was carried out, and Taichi found himself unable to breathe, muscles locking up across his body.
The stretcher rounded the curve of the sidewalk, tottering between the two men who held its either side. A gust of wind tugged and pulled at the white sheet lying on top, and Taichi caught glimpses of red, bloodied tissue through the fluttering edges, hushed cries escaping from the crowd around him.
He felt sick, stomach turning in on itself as his arms circle his abdomen.
"Oh, fuck..." He clenched his eyes shut as his world started to spin, images of Tatsuya eviscerated, splayed out like a doll with its stuffing removed on the floor of room 413 throbbing on off in his mind.
"Taichi?"
He brought his hands to his head, shutting everything out, grinding his teeth together as his heart thud-thudded in his chest, uneven and carving through his thoughts.
"Taichi!"
An arm yanked on his shoulder pulling him out of his trance as his eyes shot open, pupils like pinpricks trembling in seas of white.
"Hiroshi...?" His hands lowered from his head, fingers still trembling but the world slowing down around him as he took in Nagano's ragged features, the other boy's eyes dark, sunken, half-crazed as he searched Taichi's face desperately. "H-Hiroshi, what's wrong?"
Nagano's fingers curled into the fabric of Taichi's jacket, his mouth twitching. "It's Asaka and Inocchi, Taichi. It's Asaka and Inocchi."
"What?!" Taichi felt a knife twist in his heart, jabbing at his chest as the air rushed out of him.
"I saw them... I saw them." Nagano's eyes widened, trembling amidst the dark green wrinkles that surrounded the sockets as his voice crackled and hissed. "I got a call from Masa. He s-said to gather everyone up because he had something important to t-tell us all. Th-that it was urgent. So I went to Asaka's room." His voice grew even more strained, face knotting in horror. "A-and I saw them. I saw them. Taichi, all their skin was peeled off. Like pigs. Like pigs!!"
Nagano was shaking now, his fingers locked into Taichi's jacket so tight Taichi could register the trembling through the fabric. "H-Hiroshi, it's ok, it's ok." Taichi reached forward, patting Nagano's shoulders and massaging the sides of his arms even as his own lungs fought to breathe. "Everything'll... it'll be... ok..."
He tasted blood in his mouth before he'd even registered that he was biting down on his own tongue.
And then the knife in his heart twisted again.
"Shige."
He jerked upright, head on a swivel as he searched desperately through the crowd.
"Hiroshi, have you seen Shige?"
"Wh-what?" Nagano looked confused, the bright lights the police had fashioned outside the perimeter of the dorm making his skin look a ghastly, greenish pale.
"Shige! Oh god, oh shit." Taichi turned on his heels, head pounding as his eyes scoured the crowd, faces flooding his vision but none of them familiar, none of them recognizable. "SHIGE!" His voice croaked and groaned even as he shouted, his throat so tight it felt like nails were scratching up the length of his trachea.
He wasn't there.
He wasn't there.
Breath quickening, he held a hand to his chest, fingers digging into the fabric of his jacket to claw at his skin as he stared at the ground, world spinning.
He needed to get inside.
Gaze shooting up towards the entrance of the dorm, his nerves screamed at him, head pulsing. He began walking forward, slowly at first, then picking up speed, away from the circle of the crowd and up along the path leading inside.
"Hey kid, we can't let anyone go inside."
He barely even registered the police officer who started towards him, concentrating on his feet, on the pounding footsteps that took him closer and closer.
"Hey kid! I told you to stop!"
The police officer held a hand out, and Taichi took off at a run, scrambling up the steps and into the building even as the other officers let out a shout.
He swerved around the corner of the main office, then took off for the stairs, loud and clanging in his ears as he took them two at a time, up, up, nearly tumbling out onto the second floor.
"Shige!" He raced down the hall, horror building up in his stomach and threatening to burst. Hand to the knob of Joshima's door, he wrenched it open, half-afraid to look, but all he saw inside was an empty room, the lamp on the bedside table illuminating the recently unmade bed in a soft, comforting light.
"Shige?" Taichi took a step inside, voice quivering. His eyes scanned the perimeter of the room, roving over the desk, the closet, the bed, the shelves. He felt his breath stick in his throat as he tried to swallow, mouth so dry it made him gag.
He backed up into the hall, searching the long empty corridor. A faint steam was curling out of the vent holes in the top of the door to the bathroom. Licking his lips, Taichi let the door to Joshima's room close with a click. A second later his feet were thumping across the carpet towards the bathroom, steam billowing out into his face as he pushed the door open.
"Shige? Shige, are you in here?" His shoes squeaked on the wet floor, hot steam filling his lungs and making his head light, fuzzy. He stepped further in, his eyes quaking, tightening at the trail of red running through the cracks in the tile towards his feet. "Shige...?" Only his voice was quiet now, barely whispered, just making it past his lips.
Another step. The steam started to clear around him, the trail of blood widening into a pool.
Taichi felt someone kick him in the gut, and he almost had to bend over, hands clutching his abdomen as his body shook in horror. He couldn't move, the scene imprinting on his eyes as his face twisted in horrified panic.
Then he was stumbling forward, legs useless as he fell to the ground and crawled over to the body splayed on the floor.
"No."
His hands wrapped around Joshima's midsection, pulling him up into his lap.
"No, no, no."
Don't do this to me.
He bent over, holding the other boy close, hands roving his body, shaking his shoulders, unable to look away, unable to stop from seeing the two gaping holes in the other's face where his eyes had once been, fleshy lesions oozing thick, clotted blood down his cheeks to paint the tile below.
"No, no, no, no, no."
He didn't even realize his own face was soaked in tears, his body now curled around Joshima's head and holding it to his chest, blood soaking up through the fabric of his jacket as his shoulders shook and his body rocked back and forth, back and forth. He wrapped his fingers in Joshima's hair, pawing at the wet locks and pressing his chin to the other's forehead as his jaw froze open in silent sobs.
Don't leave me all alone.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"Taichi."
He didn't register the voice at first. It was coming somewhere from above him, in a mass of swirling colors that tinted and stained his vision, threatening to pull him back to reality.
"Taichi."
There was a hand on his shoulder, shaking him, and even as he tried to hold on to his grip in the ephemeral world of his mind, he felt it slipping, his body falling backwards, slipping off the edge of the cliff as the hand pulled on his collar, dragging him down into the abyss of colors.
"Taichi, wake up."
He opened his eyes, slowly, just barely cracking them open as the light bit at his retinas, pounding into his head. He moaned, turning over in the plastic chair and pulling the emergency blanket tighter around his shoulders.
"...go away."
He felt a shudder in the chair around him, and then two hands were on his shoulders and pulling him forward. For a second, he feared he was going to fall out of the chair, but just as his stomach began to recoil in terror, he felt a warm body in front of him and a sturdy set of arms wrap around his frame.
Opening his eyes in surprise, he saw the fabric of Sakamoto's jacket inches away from his nose.
"Shit, I didn't know what to think when I heard."
Sakamoto was shaking, though his jaw was set tight as he held Taichi to his chest, the other boy silent as the memories of reality flooded back into him like knives through his gut.
They said nothing for a good minute, Sakamoto kneeling in the middle of the hallway in front of the chair Taichi'd passed out on, simply holding him as the two of them regrouped their bearings.
Then Taichi pulled away with a start, eyes like saucers as they searched Sakamoto's face.
"Asaka... Inocchi...?"
Sakamoto's eyes darkened and he pressed his lips together, not even looking at Taichi as he shook his head morosely.
Taichi's hands jerked out from the safety of his blanket, fingers curling into Sakamoto's jacket as he shook him desperately. "Sh-Shige? Shige too? Is he...? O-oh god, I can't, I-I can't-"
Sakamoto's hands came down firmly on Taichi's shoulders, eyes sharpening as he locked onto the other's gaze. "Calm down, calm down. Shige's not dead."
Taichi felt a strange chill wash through his body, and his muscles released the built-up tension, nothing but a dull ache left behind. Nausea curled up in his stomach, roiling around in his gut, and he brought a hand to his mouth, fearing he was going to wretch all over the floor.
"Hey, hey, hey, hey..."
Sakamoto moved up to the chair next to him, one arm around his frame as his other hand stroked the top of his head. "It's ok, it's ok..."
Taichi's face lost its sickly green color, replaced by clammy pale as he let out a shuddered breath. Flecks of spittle clung to his lips as he closed his eyes and simply breathed.
"It's ok..." Sakamoto gave his back another rub, pressing his forehead to Taichi's shoulder.
"Where are we?"
"The hospital."
Taichi shook his head weakly, straining his eyes as he finally took in his surroundings. They were in a small waiting area, an empty receptionist's desk nearby, but a few nurses and orderlies walking past them every couple of minutes. The fluorescent lights reflected in the shiny marbled tile that covered the floor.
Sakamoto sat back up, one hand still absentmindedly rubbing Taichi's knee. "Do you remember what happened?"
Taichi furrowed his brows, tongue dry in his mouth as he searched back through his mind. The tile in the hallway turned brown, slick with water, a little red trail working its way down past his vision. He shook his head abruptly, clenching his eyes shut. "N-... no... not after-..."
"It's ok, it's ok." Sakamoto cut him off before he could say anymore.
Taichi sat back in his chair with a slump, pulling the emergency blanket he just now realized he had no recollection of receiving tighter around his frame. "...what time is it?"
Sakamoto glanced down at his watch. "3:25 a.m."
"When did you get here?"
"Just a little bit ago. I had no idea any of it happened-I wasn't even on campus. And when I got back, most of the commotion was over, but I called Hiroshi. He was all jittery and panicked and told me what happened, so I drove over as fast as I could.
I had no idea what I would find here, as Hiroshi wasn't even making much sense by the end of it... but I went and checked on Shige before waking you up, I-... I-I wanted to know, before... yeah..."
Taichi turned his head up towards Sakamoto, hesitant.
"...how is he?"
"Not in a good way, but. Alive. At least." Sakamoto pressed his lips together, not looking at Taichi. After a few moments he let out a sigh before meeting Taichi's gaze. "Do you wanna see him?"
Taichi felt his stomach gurgle, fingertips cold, but he nodded his head, voice tiny and barely audible. "...I'd like that, yeah."
Joshima was hooked up to an IV in the hospital bed, chest barely even moving as he breathed, looking lost in the mess of white sheets. His head was wrapped in a heavy gauze, covering his empty eye sockets, hair limp across the top. His lips had lost their normal pink tinge, now a dull grayish blue, and his skin was clammy and pale, red crust gathered just beneath the gap between his skin and the bandage.
Taichi stood next to the bed, holding the blanket around his shoulders as he stared down at the almost lifeless doll in the middle of the bed.
"This is all my fault..."
Sakamoto shook his head with a sigh. "Nothing's your fault, Taichi."
Taichi bit down on his lip, tasting blood as his eyes tightened. "Don't you get it? It's only going after us. If I'd never gotten involved with him, he-..." He almost choked, dry spit gathering in the back of his throat.
"Taichi, hush. We don't know any of that." Sakamoto's hand came up to his shoulder, rubbing it reassuringly.
Taichi took a step forward, reaching his hand out towards the bed and finding Joshima's fingers, lacing his own through them as he knelt down. He tried to remember when those same fingers had been warm and soft, guiding his hands around his hips as their lips had pressed against each other. Now they lay still against the bedsheets, cold and unmoving even as Taichi's fingers wound between them in hopeful encouragement.
His face was lax, emotionless beneath the thick wraps of gauze. Those big, round, owlish eyes would never look at him again. Would never again smile at him in mirth. Would never again crinkle as he laughed at something Taichi'd said, bubbles against the back of Taichi's neck.
Taichi let out a shuddered breath, head resting against the side of the bed in defeat.
Sakamoto backed away silently, face grim as he took a seat in one of the chairs against the wall, fingers laced together in his lap.
After another minute, Taichi stood back up, one finger tracing up Joshima's arm before he was backing up too, seating himself in the chair next to Sakamoto with a dejected whump.
"What are we gonna do, Masa? What are we gonna do?" Taichi's voice shuddered in the silent room.
Sakamoto didn't answer for a moment.
Then.
"Finish what we started."
Taichi turned his head upwards in surprise, eyes tightening. "Is that all you can think of?"
Sakamoto's face hardened as he narrowed his eyes at Taichi. "You realize people are just gonna keep dying unless we see this through to the end, don't you?" He moved forward towards Taichi almost instinctively. "Hell, you, me, Hiroshi... we'll probably be the next ones to go! And then there'll be no one left to know what's going on in that building. No one left to try and put a stop to this thing. And it'll just keep picking people off one by one. Sure, they may close the dorm, but what's to keep Cuttle from leaving now that he's been freed from that room? If we don't stop him, no one else will."
Taichi's face turned green again, and he wrenched his gaze away, staring down at his hands. He remained silent, small and hunched over beneath his blanket.
"...you saw what the police did. Nothing. They didn't believe a single word we said. Nobody's going to know what to do if we're not here. Nobody'll be able to do anything. They're all incompetent nincompoops!" Sakamoto shook his head with a grimace.
Taichi clasped and re-clasped his hands, eyes boring down into the tile beneath their feet. "But what can we do?
Sakamoto was silent for a moment. "...we need to reseal him in that room."
"How are we supposed to do that?"
"I made a friend. At the basilica. One of the reverends there. He's been helping me do research. Teaching me a lot."
Taichi blinked. "...and?"
"I'll ask him to help us. He... knows a lot about this kind of stuff. If I let him know how dire the circumstances have become, I know he'll be willing to help. He's taught me all about these old types of powers and spirits and the seals that bind them."
"And what if it doesn't work?"
Sakamoto scratched the top of his head, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "I don't... know. I don't know." He glanced over, brows furrowed. "But... I suppose we'll get to that when the time comes. If it comes."
Taichi's expression didn't change, grim look of apprehension staining his features. "What happens when Cuttle tries to attack us? You've seen what he did to Tatsuya. To Asaka, Inocchi, and Shige. We-..." He lowered his head, fingers digging into his cheeks. "...we don't even know what happened to them. We don't know what it is that Cuttle does to-... to them..." His gaze rose warily to Joshima on the bed, eyes glassy.
Sakamoto followed his gaze, eyes settling on the bandages wrapped tight around Joshima's skull. "I know. That's part of the problem. But I-..." He bit down on his lip. "I think I have a better idea of... of what he's after now. Of what he wants." And then under his breath. "Even if I'm not yet sure how exactly he gets it."
Taichi didn't move, his shoulders rising up and down with each breath. "Do you have some sort of plan then?"
No response. Sakamoto turned towards Taichi, eyes running up and down his frame. "I need you to act as bait."
Taichi's eyes opened wide at this, and he spun in his chair to stare at the other boy in disbelief. "You want me to what?"
Sakamoto's hands came up to calm him down. "Hear me out, hear me out." His fingers curled around Taichi's shoulders, giving them a reassuring little massage. "It'll only be until we can get the seal ready. If you go into the room and distract Cuttle, we'll be able to set up the seal from the outside without having to worry about him attacking us or getting in our way. Once we're ready, we pull you out, Reverend Edmund says the chant, does all that stuff with his hands, you know, then boom, the room is sealed, Cuttle's out of our lives, we throw away the key, board up the fourth floor permanently this time, and bada-bing, bada-boom, we save the day."
Taichi blinked, staring at Sakamoto in silence. He turned back around chewing on his bottom lip. "You make it sound so easy."
"Well, I do doubt it'll go over quite that smoothly, but..."
Taichi ran a hand through his hair, eyes trained on some invisible speck of dust in the air, unfocused. "How do you know the seal will work? Wasn't he sealed before?"
Sakamoto shook his head. "It was only a physical seal before. The door itself, remember? And as the door aged over the years, the seal weakened. This will be the real deal. A holy seal to lock in demons. They last for thousands of years, so long as we can keep that door off-limits."
Taichi continued to fidget, eyes narrowing. "And what if you can't... get it ready in time? How long would I have to stay..." His breath hitched in his throat. "...in that room?"
Sakamoto's face fell as he looked over at Taichi, corners of his mouth pointed down. "We'd have you out of there as soon as possible, I promise. Before Cuttle can do anything." His hand came up to take Taichi's shoulder, gripping it with a confident little squeeze. "...and I have this strange little feeling that..."
Taichi's eyes sharpened, vision coming into focus.
"...Cuttle's intrigued by you."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Campus was like a ghost town the next day. Wicker was roped off, evacuated, the remaining students told to relocate their things as soon as possible into housing the school quickly tried to find for all the displaced residents. Barely anyone walked the sidewalks between the buildings, classes canceled and students and teachers alike attempting to escape from the unsettling atmosphere that had settled across the entirety of campus. Police cars pulled in and out of the driveway by Wicker, investigators and detectives coming to scope out the crime scenes and question the last of the students on their ways out for any information or eyewitness accounts they could piece together.
Sakamoto took Taichi back to their dorm and told him to sleep-he'd been up most of the night, and what sleep he had gotten hadn't been restful. He'd need to be alert when they broke into Wicker that night with the reverend. Once he'd gotten Taichi's pants off and his form was curled up in the sheets of his bed, Sakamoto began packing up his own things, books into his pack before he set out across town.
By the time he creaked open the door the of St. James Basilica, it was late morning, the sun high in the sky but sheltered behind potentially ominous clouds and offering little warmth. The sound of the door echoed throughout the wide hall, seeming to ricochet off every corner and curl into every nook. The stained-glass windows that lined the walls on both sides were dull of color, a scarcity of light trickling in, and the fake candles which lined the pews did little to lighten the almost musty atmosphere.
Readjusting his bookbag on his shoulders, he walked forward across the beige carpeting, past alcoves where groups of candles burned atop miniature altars, past statues of Jesus and the Virgin Mary that stared at him with unchanging porcelain eyes, past pew after pew and further into the sanctuary, towards the white altar on the stage to the front, ciborium towering up above his head the closer his steps took him.
He stopped just before the stage and its deep red carpeting, looking up at the cross above the canopy, flowers and candles adorning its base. Pausing for a minute, he took a shuddered breath, then walked off towards the left, past the line of pews and into the darkness of the overhang where the light from the candles couldn't reach. He didn't stop until he made it to the door in the far corner, hand coming up to rest on its bronze knob and turning it to the side with a soft click.
Reverend Edmund looked up at the sound as the door creaked open, cassock crisp and neatly ironed and eyes peeking out questionably from above his half-rimmed glasses.
"Masayuki. This is a surprise. Back so soon?"
Sakamoto's lips pressed together into a tight line as he let the door swing shut behind him.
"There's been a change in plans."
Taichi awoke to the sound of his phone vibrating. It was soft, almost inaudible, but close enough to his pillow that the vibrations reverberated through the light cotton, his sleep light enough at that point that the tickling on his lashes woke him from slumber.
With a little shake of his head, he pushed himself up with his arms, eyes still blurry and mind still wrapped in fuzzy pink insulation that made it hard to think and even harder to swallow, the inside of his mouth coated in sticky bile.
"Ugh..."
He rubbed at his face, body still half-hidden in the folds of his blankets, before his hand was groping towards his glasses. Sliding them blindly onto his nose, he searched next for his phone. It stopped vibrating before he found it, the phone still in his hand as he flipped it open to reveal a new text message.
Wicker at 9.
He let out a little groan before flopping back down on the bed, pillow ballooning around his head with a whump of air. He stayed there until he felt a dribble of drool leak out between his lips to stain the white pillow cover, then reluctantly sat himself up and dragged his feet over the edge of the bed.
What time was it, anyway?
7:28.
He'd slept the whole day.
Drearily limping across the carpet, he swung his hand inside his closet, groping for clothes. He pulled a hoodie off one of the hangers, then yanked a used pair of jeans out of his hamper and began to change, the shirt he'd been wearing damp with sweat and stained red from the scene in the bathroom the previous night.
Once changed, he swung his jacket around his shoulders and laced up his shoes, tromping out into the hallway.
The dinner hour was long past, but he'd still be able to make it to late-night, the two-hour long interval between seven and nine for students who weren't able to make it to normal dining hours (or for those with late-night munchies). The chill of the outside air sharpened his eyes and senses, and by the time he'd made it to the cafeteria, he was almost fully awake, the only signs he'd just woken up being the red crease still lingering on his cheek and the mussed hair he hadn't even bothered combing.
He was silent as he scooped up the soggy shredded wheat from his bowl into his mouth. The cafeteria was practically empty, none of the tables around him occupied and the only voices coming from a far-off booth where two sullen-faced boys were munching on a pizza. A tinny jingle was echoing out from the speakers above his head, an advertisement for indigestion medication. He closed his eyes against it as his jaw slopped up and down, up and down, thick, clumpy cereal sliding down his throat.
One of the work-study cafeteria employees greeted him as he set his finished tray on the dish rack, carrying a pile of freshly-washed plates in her hands.
"Have a nice night."
He grunted in response, running a hand through his hair as he started back out into the night air.
8:47.
8:48.
He felt like his minutes were ticking away, dribbling down through his fingers to lie scattered at his feet in the grass. His dinner had done little to diminish the vile taste in his mouth, bitter tang tumbling down the back of his throat as the wind whipped against him.
By the time he'd made it to Wicker, he couldn't feel his legs anymore, useless twigs buzzing in his jeans that threatened to collapse at a moment's notice. He licked his lips, tongue fat and clumsy. The building itself loomed up above his head, shutters flapping on the roof and windows dark, chipping away at the makeshift barrier he'd built around his heart.
He swallowed.
Hard.
The front entrance was covered in yellow police tape, barring his entry, so he simply stood behind the nearby pine tree, nettles poking at his skin while the seconds tick-ticked away in his head.
His phone vibrated in his pocket.
The sensation sent a jolt of electricity up his spine, thoughts so focused on the building in front of him that the reality shock made his brain jump. He pulled the phone out, flipping it open.
Around back.
Clicking it back shut, he pulled his jacket tight around his body and half-jogged across the soggy turf to the backside of the building.
No one.
It was dark, surrounding trees not even visible in the lack of light and the temperature dropping in the shadows. His head spun on a swivel, eyes scouring the darkness for any sign of movement.
"Taichi."
He spun around, the hissed voice tickling the back of his neck.
"Taichi."
Again.
His heart was pounding in his temples as his pupils dilated.
He was jerked to the side, a hand clenched at the sleeve of his jacket. Almost falling, he stumbled forward towards one of the darker shadows he assumed was a tree, wet mud slick around his shoes.
"Masayuki?" He tried to peer through the darkness, but he couldn't make out anything more than a few fuzzy outlines.
"It's me." There was a pause, and Taichi could almost imagine the other boy nodding. "I'm here with Reverend Edmund."
"So we're... really doing this, huh?"
"We're finishing this tonight."
A chill ran down Taichi's spine as he turned back towards the building, now back-lit from the faint light of campus beyond. "...how are we getting in?"
"Downstairs window. We already jarred one of the windows open." Sakamoto's voice was strangely light, buoyant in the darkness, as though he were describing the night's dinner plans. "There were some cops around earlier, but all of them have left now. Building should be completely empty."
"Yeah, of living people..." The sides of Taichi's mouth pulled back in a cringe.
The three of them started out across the grass towards the building, hidden in shadow and noiseless under cover of wind. Sakamoto felt along the wall until he reached the first window, his hands sliding across the glass.
"...not this one."
They moved to the left, Sakamoto feeling ahead of him, fingers tracing brick until he'd made it to the next window, following the same procedure as before. This time he stopped, fingers finding the gap between window and frame, just slightly ajar, before pulling it open. It came with a dull creak, metal crank on the inside no doubt rusted from years of use and misuse. He kept pulling, giving it a few jerks when it stuck, until the gap was wide enough for the three of them to fit through.
"You first."
Taichi felt a hand on his shoulder. With a little grimace, he padded towards the wall, dirt even more waterlogged near the building and giving beneath his shoes in sloppy, wet goops. Arms through the open window, he pulled himself inside, tottering on the threshold between out and in with his rear end in the air until Sakamoto gave him a push on the rump, landing him unceremoniously in a pile on the floor.
He let out a groan, holding his head, but had his wits about him enough to move out of the way before another body landed in the spot he'd recently occupied.
They were in somebody's room. It was too dark to make out most of the furniture, but the nearby bed was evidence enough. Once the three of them were huddled by the open window, Sakamoto began pulling flashlights out of his bag, handing one to both Taichi and the reverend.
Taichi clicked his on, Sakamoto's grimy, wet hair the first thing to illuminate in the darkness. He pointed it towards the reverend who'd just clicked his on as well, the lenses of his glasses reflecting back the glow.
Without a word, Sakamoto motioned them towards the door, and they took off, Taichi's flashlight tracing the walls of the room before they left to reveal posters of horses and a neatly tidied desk.
The building creaked around them, haunting in the silence as they made their way to the stairwell on the other side of the floor. It echoed in Taichi's ears, up and around and through the walls, deep, heavy groans that reverberated in the air and made the hair on the back of his neck twist and turn.
His chest felt stuffy, constricted, shadows curling around him and carding through his hair as the light from his flashlight trembled.
Up the stairs. The metal moaned beneath their feet, abnormally loud in the stairwell. Taichi gripped the railing tight in his hand, palm already slick with sweat and leaving sticky residue on the cold surface. None of them said a word as they made the pilgrimage upstairs, breaths growing heavier as they passed floor after floor before emerging into the hallway that had been haunting Taichi's dreams.
It spun, twisted, spiraled in his vision, but his feet didn't stop. His feet couldn't stop, frozen in step behind Sakamoto and urging his body forward even as the twinges behind his eyes grew sharp and his stomach roiled.
413.
The door.
The door.
It was roped off with the same yellow police tape as the front entrance, and Sakamoto stepped forward to yank it down, the sound of it brittle and dry as it fell to the floor.
"This is the room, huh?" Reverend Edmund had his flashlight trained on the surface of the door, eyes invisible beneath the glare of his glasses.
"This is it, alright. Where everything started."
"We should work quickly then. Time is of the essence." The reverend slid the bag off his shoulder, kneeling on the ground and rifling through its contents.
Sakamoto turned to Taichi, his face grim, but a sad little smile playing on his lips. Taichi felt his stomach toss and turn before curling in on itself.
"We'll have you out of there as soon as possible, ok?"
"Right..."
"Just be strong. Use that wit of yours." Sakamoto's hand came down on his head as if he were patting a dog, and Taichi cringed, pulling away.
"You owe me big for this, you know."
"Yeah, yeah. I'll take you out for breakfast tomorrow. All you can eat."
Taichi smiled, the gesture almost betraying the rapid fluttering of his heart. Sakamoto reached forward and gripped him in an awkward little side hug before Taichi's hand rose up to the handle of the door, the metal cool, sparking with a strange, chilled electricity. He licked his lips and cracked it open, flashlight at the ready as the black mouth in front of him widened to encompass his mind.
"See you guys on the other side."
His voice didn't waver this time.
He found this funny as he stepped through the rift.
Part Six