Tomoya lay on the rough concrete behind the gym. The pain in his stomach throbbed in short, deep waves, mingling with the nausea born of fear. His head rested on his dirt-smeared arm, his eyes fixed on the cracked ground—no strength left to stand.
Time passed unnoticed. The sound of the wind through the metal fence, the shadow of the wall shifting slowly, but he remained there. His face still wet, throat dry, chest suffocated by a feeling he couldn't name.
"How…?"
The word escaped in a choked whisper.
"How did he do that…?"
His body shivered at the memory of the pressure that had enveloped him. It wasn't normal. It couldn't be. It was as if something alive had crawled into his mind and squeezed until his soul wanted to flee his body.
"He didn't even… touch me…"
Anger began to seep through the edges of his pain. Tomoya tried to move, but his right leg muscle still trembled involuntarily. He stayed on his side, staring at his dust-covered knee.
'I just… wanted to help.'
'It was just a game.'
'A chance for her to be something.'
He clenched his teeth.
"Why…?"
"Why did she do this to me?"
The memory of Megumi's gaze burned worse than the kicks. That coldness. The complete absence of guilt. As if he were an obstacle, a mistake to be erased. And it was with that gaze that she'd set the trap.
"Damn her…"
The whisper dripped with saliva and a raw throat.
"Bitch."
His hand closed into a fist with difficulty, but there was no strength to hit anything. Not the ground. Not the walls. Not the air.
"Yuta… bastard…"
The anger surged too quickly, trying to fill the void his pride left behind. Because no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't pretend he still had control. He'd begged. He'd cried. And worst of all—he'd felt fear.
'What if he does it again?'
'What if he shows up here again?'
The terror returned at the thought. His body curled slightly, instinctively, as if trying to hide from a presence no longer there.
But the fear remained.
"I'm… trash…"
His gaze lost itself in the void.
"Just trash no one wanted to hear."
Night crept in slowly. The streetlights flickered on in the distance, but the corner behind the gym stayed steeped in dimness.
Tomoya didn't move.
Not to flee.
Not to fight.
He just lay there, motionless, surrounded by his own thoughts, his own failure.
For the first time in his life…
He had no idea how to get out of this position.
And then, something invisible shifted.
Not in the physical world—but in the air, the feeling, the instinct. A presence emerged without sound. Without clear form. But the spirits lingering at the school's edges reacted.
They recoiled.
Like wild animals before a greater predator. As if something had appeared that shouldn't be there.
Even they, creatures of suffering, felt the difference.
The source? Tomoya's resentment. The raw pain, the poisoned anger, the corrosive shame… all concentrated in a single point. The school, already marked by past events, absorbed it.
And gave it back.
Forming something.
No sound of footsteps. No scent. No shift in the wind.
But from some point among the shadows, it was there.
The curse.
A disproportionate head, like a mutilated elephant. Gray skin, eyes glowing red like embers in coal. The body resembled a human's but was elongated, twisted, with fingers too thin, a neck too rigid.
Tomoya didn't see it.
Not yet.
He tried to prop himself up on his elbows, to drag himself a little, maybe shift his position. The pain in his abdomen made him grit his teeth, but the discomfort was interrupted by something deeper.
A new shiver.
Stronger than before.
'Is… someone here?'
He turned his head slowly toward the wall. The feeling of being watched became impossible to ignore.
"Is… someone there?"
His voice came out choked, weak, but it broke the total silence.
And that's when he saw it.
The glow.
Two red orbs in the shadows. Motionless. Watching.
Tomoya's eyes widened. His heart raced erratically.
"W-what… what is that…"
The words stumbled over each other. His body acted on its own. He tried to drag himself backward, pushing against the ground with his heels and sweaty palms.
"What is that… what is that… what is that…"
The creature took a step. No sound. No verbal threat. Just the sight—ghastly, wrong, impossible.
Tomoya screamed. Loud.
"Aaaaaaaahhhh!!!"
The sound tore from his throat, raw, desperate, more reflex than a cry for help.
His body slid across the ground, legs bent awkwardly, trying to get away at any cost.
His hands pushed against the concrete with force, fingers scraping on loose stones.
'What is that…'
'What kind of monster is that…?'
'Fuck… what the hell is this…'
'I'm gonna die… I'm gonna die… I'm gonna die…'
His inner voice looped, devoid of logic or strategy, just raw, filthy fear.
The muffled sound of his boots scraping the cement mixed with the pounding of his heart in his ears—an irregular, choking, suffocating beat.
The scream died against the concrete wall, muted by the gym's enclosed layout.
But it was real. It was pure.
The fear now had a face.
And the face was staring at him.
Tomoya dragged himself across the ground, soiling his uniform, his face grazing small stones. His hands trembled, his knees faltered, and the pain in his body was drowned by total panic.
The curse didn't move further. It just watched.
As if studying. As if proving it didn't need to chase to catch.
Tomoya curled up near the side fence, trying to hide behind one of the external pipe supports.
The crying returned uncontrollably. His breathing sounded like a flooded engine. His eyes blurred with a mix of tears and dirt.
His chest heaved unevenly. His throat had no strength left to scream.
Snot mixed with tears, staining his face, leaving everything sticky and cold.
'I just wanted to help…'
'I just wanted to give Megumi a chance…'
'Why is this happening to me…?'
The curse still didn't approach. But it was there—motionless, alert, unbearably present.
Tomoya tried to lift his gaze again. The creature… was gone.
His heart skipped a beat.
His blood seemed to stop for half a second.
"Where…?"
He turned his neck slowly. The world spun with it.
The streetlights flickered at the edge of his vision, and the school's sounds had vanished entirely.
Then he looked forward.
And the curse was there.
Standing. Less than a meter away.
The red eyes of its deformed face glowed with terrifying clarity.
Its skin was gray, parched, and its trunk—long and thin—stretched like a sentient muscle.
"AAAAAH—!"
The scream barely escaped.
In the next instant, the creature's trunk coiled around his neck.
Swift. Dry. Precise.
Tomoya's body was yanked against the ground, his feet dragging dirt and stones.
His spine arched involuntarily, and his hands flailed against the trunk in desperate reflex.
"GRKH—!"
The choked sound stayed trapped in his throat.
The desperation wasn't just from fear anymore—it came from pain, from suffocation, from the realization that this was real.
Tomoya kicked, writhed, his legs slamming against the side fence.
But nothing broke the pressure.
Nothing loosened the grip.
His eyes streamed with tears.
And the curse…
Just kept watching.
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