Click.
The door shut behind Kanasei with a hollow sound, sealing the apartment off from the outside world. Darkness greeted him. Only a faint strip of moonlight slipped in through the curtains, barely enough to outline the narrow hallway.
He slipped off his shoes and left them by the door, the soft thud echoing more than it should have. His footsteps were slow as he walked deeper inside, the floorboards murmuring beneath him.
Kanasei pulled out his phone.
1:03 AM
He stared at the screen for a second longer than necessary before locking it and stuffing it back into his pocket. The silence returned immediately.
In the living room, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over the armrest of the couch. Then he sat down, sinking into the cushions. His arms stretched along the backrest as he leaned into it, eyes lifting toward the ceiling.
Nothing stared back.
There were no cracks worth tracing nor were there any thoughts worth following.
His eyelids grew heavy and the world dimmed.
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"Why didn't you save me?"
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"You could've prevented it from happening."
"But you didn't."
.
"What…?"
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"If you were a good friend…"
"You would've been there earlier."
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Your fault.
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Your fault.
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.Your fault.
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Y̴͇̿o̷̜͠u̶̟͠r̷͎̽ ̴̹͂f̸̫͘a̶͎͂ũ̷̩l̷͈͘t̶̤̃
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Ẏ̷̢̨͈͈̄͒̽ȏ̴̬͐͠ͅu̶̲̙̪̎r̶͇̙̊̚̕ ̶̲̔̋̋͠f̷̠̏͒͘͝a̸̠͓̿A̷̠̻͛̕A̵̡̛̬̦̱̟̣̘̞͒̉̾̐͜͠Ȧ̷̛̤͎͓͍͈̣̦̳̱̣̝̘͌̇̔͂̈́͛͋͛̏́͂̂͜͝Á̵͓͕͚͓̔̓͗̆̅́͑͆̊ͅA̵̧̺̟̬̖̟̣̭̫̝̲̓̌̃̈́̒͆̊͛̎̇͛̋̾̈͆̌͘͠Á̶̟͚͋̿̎̐̐͊̽̕͠Ą̵̨̧̛̛̥͎̙̲͈̭͉̟̣̻̳̠̰̺͖̘͂͐́́̌̎̈͐́̆̽͗̊̑̒̽̚̚̕͝A̸̧̛̺̬̩͇̳̟͉̼̦͙̩̟̩̭͉͚͂̐͗̎̒̍͗͘Ä̴̡̝̤̻̩͖̖̭̼̤͔͖͔̝̖̹̺́̌͝A̸̛̫͚͈͖̖͉͇̱̹͓̭̣͖̹̩̥̥͙͖̤͑̐̔̐͊̿̇̐̈́͗͑͂̾͌̔̎̓̚Ą̴̨͓͔̲̘̣̻͔̼̙͎̫̖̮̻̇͆͑́͂̑̌̀̊̾̑̃͌̕̚̚̕ͅA̶̭̙̮̲̭͉͖͔̤̻̮̫̟̠̹̞͇͎̥̐̿̾͒́̈́͌̊͐̇͋̽̔̔͋̀̕͜͜͝U̴̧̧̜̘̘͖̖̦̭̜͓͓͚͖͖̜̝͋Ḻ̸̨̧͈̘̲̰̤̪͍̮̣̲̫̲̜̖̜͊͋̓͜ͅT̷̨̢̡̢̼̼̬̦͔͕̞͖̝̫̪͙͓̹̏
"AGH!"
Kanasei jolted upright, a shriek tearing out of his throat. Air flooded his lungs as he gasped violently, hands gripping the couch beneath him.
Reality snapped back into place.
The dim living room. The couch.
His heart pounded against his ribs like it was trying to escape.
Kanasei clutched his face, fingers pressing hard against his left eye.
"Why's it…" He sucked in a sharp breath. "…hurting?"
The pain throbbed deep inside, sharp and unfamiliar. He rubbed at his eye and forced himself to stand, his legs unsteady—
Ding-dong.
The sound cut through the room.
Kanasei froze.
Ding-dong.
The doorbell rang again.
It was firm and authoritative.
"Mr. Tomohikari," a voice said from beyond the door. "Please open up. We need to speak with you."
Kanasei dragged his feet across the apartment floor and unlocked the door. Three police officers stood in-front of the door, their uniforms neat, and their faces unreadable.
"…Morning," he muttered, voice hoarse.
"Kanasei Tomohikari?" the one in front asked.
"Yes."
"We've been informed that you were close with Nobu Yasu."
Kanasei blinked, his mind lagging behind the name. "…Yeah."
"We'd like you to come with us. Just a few questions."
Kanasei hesitated, rubbing his face. "I...I just woke up. Can I wash my face first?"
"That's fine," the officer said. "We'll be waiting across the road."
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"…Huh?"
The sound slipped out of him before he could stop it.
Kanasei stood behind the tape, staring at the body laid out on the pavement. A white sheet was being pulled over it slowly, almost gently, as if that could undo anything.
Nobu Yasu didn't look like Nobu anymore.
His eye sockets were empty. Whatever had once filled them was gone. The left side of his chest was gray...no, decayed. Punched inward as if something had eaten through it. There was a hole where his heart should have been. His forehead had been split open, the damage ugly and excessive.
"We believe the incident occurred tonight," the officer beside him said. "Most of the damage is still…recent."
Kanasei didn't answer.
The sheet finished covering what was left of his best friend.
"Thank you for your cooperation," the officer said after a pause. "If we need anything further, we'll contact you."
The man tipped his hat slightly, a practiced gesture of respect.
Kanasei remained where he was, staring at the place where Nobu Yasu had been.
— — —
Kanasei sat on the floor of his bedroom, his back pressed against the side of his bed. His knees were drawn close, his arms hanging loosely over them. His eyes were open, but unfocused, fixed on a spot that didn't exist.
Why did both of them have to die…?
The thought didn't hurt the way it should have. It was dull.
He lifted a hand and dragged it through his hair, slow and absent. Mikkelsen's death left behind less guilt. He had done everything he could. He ran and tried.
But Nobu...
That was different.
That wasn't something time could excuse.
The image surfaced again without warning. The damage and what was missing. Kanasei squeezed his eyes shut, but it didn't help. It felt like he should have known. Like there had been something, anything, he could have done.
A sharp pain stabbed through his left eye.
Kanasei sucked in a breath and grabbed his face, fingers digging in as the pain spread outward, flooding his skull. His thoughts shattered. The pressure built, unbearable and relentless.
His mouth felt wrong.
He felt it stretching, tearing slightly at the corners. Blood ran down his skin.
The pain settled in fully.
Kanasei collapsed onto his side, rolling weakly across the floor. A broken sound forced its way out of him, muffled as he clamped a hand over his mouth.
Why is this happening to ME…?
He reached up blindly, seized the pillow from his bed, and pressed it hard against his face. The fabric absorbed his voice.
— — —
Two sleepless days passed. Kanasei never left his bedroom.
The pain never fully stopped, but it dulled, like a blade that had finally settled in place instead of cutting deeper. His body still ached, his head still throbbed, but it was no longer unbearable.
That scared him more than the pain ever did.
He pushed himself up and staggered toward the mirror.
What stared back wasn't subtle.
His mouth was pulled impossibly wide, the corners stretched upward until they nearly brushed his cheekbones. It looked like a smile, but there was no joy in it.
His left eye was worse.
The sclera was completely black. Where white should have been, there was nothing but darkness. The pupil had thinned into a red slit, sharp and predatory, twitching slightly as it adjusted to the light.
Kanasei lifted a hand and rubbed at his face.
The image of Nobu burst into his mind without warning.
He froze.
His jaw clenched so hard his teeth ground against each other, the sound sharp in the quiet room.
"I'll find the fucking bastard who did that."
Then reality caught up to him.
He looked at himself again. He couldn't go outside like this.
Kanasei exhaled slowly and turned away from the mirror. He already had caps and masks. Things he'd worn before. That part was easy.
The rest…he'd figure out.
He opened his closet and pulled out a cap—black crown, red brim, red button—and his black face mask. He put them on, covering most of his face immediately.
Only the eye remained.
He stepped out of his bedroom and into the kitchen. One of the cabinets creaked as he opened it. He took out a roll of bandages and set his cap down on the counter.
Carefully, he wrapped the bandage diagonally across his face, covering his left eye completely. He adjusted the tension until it sat tight but not painful. Then he picked up the scissors, snipped the excess cleanly, and put everything back where it belonged.
The cap went back on his head as he walked toward the door.
By the time Kanasei reached the clothes and accessories shop, his head was already starting to ache again.
He went straight to the accessories section.
Eyepatches.
There were more than he expected.
White bandaged ones.Plain black fabric.Brown leather.Cheap plastic imitations.
Then he saw it.
Black leather. Thick and reinforced. A small golden crossbones emblem set into the surface.
He stopped walking.
Kanasei picked it up. It was heavier than the others. It looked durable, like the kind that wouldn't tear or bend easily.
He checked the price.
6,912¥.
He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, even though he already knew where he was standing. This side of the shop was never cheap.
Still…his eyes drifted back to the eyepatch in his hand.
He didn't put it back.
.
.
Kanasei stepped up to the checkout counter and set the eyepatch down.
"Hello, sir! How are you doing today?" the cashier asked, bright and automatic.
"Pretty good…"The answer came out flat and wrong. His voice was much lower than it should've been. Kanasei blinked, caught off guard, then cleared his throat softly.
Two women lined up behind him. One older, one younger. Their voices were low, but not low enough.
"Did you hear?" the younger woman said. "A boy in our area was brutally murdered a few days ago."
"Yeah," the older one replied. "Poor thing."
"I also heard he was connected to other killings. Similar cases."
Kanasei's fingers tightened around the counter.
"Will this be all?" the cashier cut in.
Kanasei snapped back to the present, blinking a few times. "Yes."
He placed the money down, took the eyepatch, and left without waiting for a receipt.
-----
Outside, the air felt heavier than before.
Stitches…He couldn't walk around like this forever.
Then he remembered.
There was an alley near his apartment. A guy there sold things...things you didn't ask questions about. Kanasei had gone to him before.
He turned back toward home.
-----
Kanasei passed his apartment without stopping.
A little farther down, he turned sharply into a narrow alley drowned in shadow. Someone stood there with their back to him.
As Kanasei approached, the figure turned.
A young-looking boy. Black hooded jacket pulled up, black commando pants, black shoes. A half-face balaclava hid his mouth and nose. What showed were his eyes—both of them a strange mix of cyan and yellow, as if the two colors had been splashed together inside the irises rather than separated—and strands of greenish-cyan hair slipping from under the hood.
"Yo," Kanasei said, lifting a hand.
"Hey," the boy replied.
Kanasei stopped in front of him. "You still got stitches?"
The boy smirked, visible even through the mask. "You come back for those a lot. Should just take a bunch and save yourself the trips."
"That's why I'm here," Kanasei said. "Give me a lot this time."
The boy crouched and unzipped one of the bags at his feet, pulling out several packages of sutures. He held them up.
"This enough?"
Kanasei nodded. "Yeah."
The boy stood. "Alright. Normally this'd be ¥10,000."He tilted his head slightly. "But for you? I'll make it ¥6,000."
Kanasei reached into his chest bag, pulled the bills free, and handed them over. The boy took a plastic bag from a nail in the wall, dropped the suture boxes inside, and passed it to him.
"Thanks," Kanasei said, already turning away. "See you later."
The boy waved once and leaned back against the wall as Kanasei disappeared into the dark.