Chapter Text
i.
(“Yesterday May Xth, 20XX, a student from the district has been reported missing, high-school aged, last seen around the lower districts—”)
Today was special!
Nene was sure of it.
Sure, her confession the other had gone…less than ideal, but today?! To-day! Today was going to great!
She was in high school now, and it was like walking into a dream — one lined with cherry blossoms on one side, right by the windows, the sun peeking between the pink, dappling her each and every step down the hallway, and Nene loved the warmth of new beginnings.
She swung her bag back and forth in her arms, humming to herself. It was early, still, cold morning air sweeping against her skin, mildew-thick. It was still maybe ten minutes? – until she had to meet Aoi. She could take the time to smell the roses – or just loiter at the windows and stare at the cherry blossoms for a little bit. And if she really meant ‘daydreaming about the ever princely Minamoto-senpai from the opening assembly’ when she said ‘stare,’ well, surely that was allowed? Maybe?
He was from the Minamoto family! That family practically owned the town! He was a real-life prince, not just princely! Her crush on him might never happen, but! Still!
Giddily, happily, Nene giggled to herself for no particular reason other than that she was happy, and turned to pull the window open.
Rot took over her thoughts, painting gore into the walls of her mind, washing down the stench of decay down her throat.
Nene felt the smile freeze on her face. It—
It.
It – was a tangle of convulsing limbs, gore pumping black right where a mouth should have been, dragging the sewer with it in every move.
And it was a shadow, hanging on rope by its neck, right next to the window.
That can’t be right, was all she could string together, at that dim, dark part at the very back of her brain where she wasn’t screaming, That can’t be right.
I’m at the 4th floor.
That can’t be right. And—
It turned, and looked at her, and said:
C̸̨̬̖͈̣̪̺̭͉̳̪̈́̎̄͆͌͐͂́̃͑̎̐̉̏͌̆̂̃͑̋̒̇́̇͆͊̅́͗͘̚̚͘̕͜͠͝͝͝͝͝͝ ̷̢̡̧̡̧̬̮͇͖̝̺͔̮̩̻̥͉̥͈̜̬͇̯̭̭͕͙͈̖͓̍͒̓̔̈́͆̈́̾̄͌̈́̌̈̑̊̓̏͆̉̊͘̕͝͝͠ͅḀ̵̧̨̢̨̨̗͉̣̰̮͎͈̯͚̼̹̳͔͇̝̦̗͇̟̼̊̌͛̈́͋̊̈́͛͐͜͝͠ͅ ̸̢̡̞͇͓̝̼̍̍͋͒͗̅̇̽̈̄͋̀̏̄̽̎̆̑́͝͠͝͝͠N̷̨͇͉̝͔͉̟̪̘̠̯̞̼̗̘̭̖̯͇͊͑͌̂̅̊͂̈́̇̆̌́̍͒͒̄̅̐̓̓̃̑̅̈̌͆͋͋̄̐̍ ̷̣̳̝̩̦̜̳̼͑͐̽ ̴̺͍̘͍̗͎̪̞̙̺̯͍̰̝̱̟͉̥͙̋̌̆̎̏̇͊͆̕̚͘͜͝͝Y̴̨̼̬̳͖̫̤̠̤͍̗̮͍͔̦̦̥̝̭̼̖̻̠̰̾͛̍̅͗̇̈́̈̇͑̊̉̒͊̏̔̈́͑̽͗͋͘̚͘͝ ̶̨̨̢͍̙̤̩̥͈͓̮͙̺̣͙̱̭̩̲̪͖͉̞̖̣̻͍̗̣̮̖̙̩̥͓̤̄͒͌͐͆͗̑̐̑̀͛̈́͐̿̏̋͌͗́͗̌̈̈̊̂̉̈̌̌̓͘͘̕͘͜͠͝͝͝͝O̴̯͙̙̦͖̥̗͋͆̽̽̉͊̀͗͋̓̾̍̽̈́̏̇͝ ̷̧̹̠̩̮͚̻̣̖͕̰̤̪͚̫̱͔̙̙̖̱̱͎͇̥͒̒͗̈́̓͛̓̋̓̏͊͛͌͂̃͛͆̀̍͘͝͠U̸̙̅̈́͂̂̉̿̉͘ ̶̢̝̭̰͂̿̋͌̌̾̅ ̵̨̧̛̜̼̼̗̹̖̻̞̲͔̝̹̱̹̦͙̬̼̠̈̋̒̽͛̂͂̋̎͒̑̽̋͐̍̉͗͌̕͠S̴̡̢̢̡̼͙̼̫̞̬̞̼̘͎͈̲̤̙̻̘̺̤̫̼̱͕͇̯̭̞̼̥̮̗̟̺͉̖̪̽̌ͅͅ ̶̢̨̢̛̛͚͉̯̩̠̲̺͍̥̼̣̠͎͎͊̆̑͛͊̇̌̄̂͒̏̈́͝͠Ȩ̷̨̡̛̰̫͕͍̝͙̮͓̖̰̺͕͔̺̮̦̥̼̮̩̱̤̳̼̪̠̬̘̙̘̫̪̈́̒̋̅̇̏͑͗̾̐̑̄̃̿̆̈́̎̎͝͠ͅ ̷̨̼̥͎̤̹̬͓͉̯̣̠̱̓̑̌̿̈́͒̊̏̉̈́Ȩ̷̛͈̓́͂͑̓̂ ̴̢̛̛̟̬̲̯͇̫̖̺̼͚̪̞̬͛̌̍͐̒͛̑̂̓͗̀̐̃̀̓̈́͐̊͐̓̇̀͆́́͆̾̈́͊̿͘̚͠͠͝͝͝ͅͅ ̵̢̧̨̡̨̡̛̖̬̞̬̯̯̫̣̝̣͍̺̙͓͎͓̤̩͙͔̼̱̼͈̙͕̫͉̇́͑͆̓̂͑̌̆̂͊̈̀̓̄̈̽̊͂̄̏̈́̄̈́͑͐̈́̕͜͜͜͝͠͝ͅM̸̡̩͕̗̺͔͕̥͔̪͔̖̹̭͎̖͕͇̥̠̯͕̍̉̋̏̾̿̊͑̐̾̋̈́̓̈́̕͜͝ ̷̺̑̐͐̿̊̈́̾̋̽̏̑̌̑͐̚͘Ę̶̨̡̧̝̳̠̣͍̤̬̹̤̟͙͇̬̱͓̼̤͇̘̰̭͍̞̦̫͐͛͜͜ ̷̡̢̛̛̦̞̤̃̑̈͒͐̒̇̈́̇̇̊͒͌̈̅͒̔̈̓̒̓̆̃̑̿̈͘͘͝͠?̵̢̡̢̥͍̫̮͎͔͚͈̙͚̟͙̻͎̟̺͇̙̱͓̦̞͙̮͈͈̹̫̭͐͒̽̇͊͛̔̑̊̈́̆̄̏͗̓͑̈́͊̒̅͌͐̾̂̚̕͜
Nene’s stomach bottomed out, at what, exactly, she couldn’t pinpoint, because it was leaning into the window, right over her, breathing ragged unlife torn from dried husks that would have been called lungs on something, anything else. Words garbled, tongue clicking against the jagged teeth sticking out from its jaw like splinters, saliva ink black and almost physical, the way it dripped on to her. Or maybe it was blood.
She couldn’t really tell.
She couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes.
“Nene-chan?”
Aoi-chan.
Run, she wanted to say, but the words pooled behind her throat, useless. The grip Nene held on the window tightened. Couldn’t she see? Why wasn’t she running? Why—
“Are you— Nene-chan you’re crying!”
Was she? Shaky fingers came upwards, cold and clammy against saltwater. Oh.
And it was still staring, still waiting for an answer.
“J-Just. I-I-It was b-b-because. The other. D-day—” full sentences seemed to slip from her grasp, words strung together without meaning. They were making eye-contact, her and the – thing. Was it just her? Why –
“C̼͔͖̬̭͛̓̾̆͐Ḁ̴̟̟̖̩̯̖̀͑͋̎̑̔̓͝͠N̼͓͕̫̪̰̠͒̈́̈̇͘͡͡͞ Y̸̫̭̬̻̞͕̙̌̔̌͊̂̅͞O̧̢̡̲̹͉̱̗̱͂̌̄͢͝͡Ŭ̵͉͉̩̲̫́̎̉͊̽͌͡ S̸̡̖̱͔̣͎̦̍͒̏̈́̆̋̾̚Ḛ̞̗̼̺͇̜̹̝̄̎̌̓͘Ë̵̡̨̩̩͇̺̬̓̎̽́̂̂̚͠ M̢̡͕̲̭͎͕͚͂̀̄͑̋͊͘͘͝͠E̟̞̳͉̩̩̬̼̯͚̓̐̅̇̇͞͞?̵̢̻͉̳̳͉̃͛̇̾̈́̾̚?”
Aoi gasped, softly, kindly, “From senpai? Oh, Nene-chan.”
She stepped in close, warmth like the shock of life coming back to a corpse. A scream was clawing itself up her throat, and Nene clamped her jaw together to stop it from tearing out from between her lips. It wriggled between her teeth, bitter against her tongue.
̵̡̱̖͔̯̙̲̦̣̫͙̣̞̲̭͖͍͇̜̥̆̈́̎͐͆͊͋̉̆̾̇̔̕Ć̷̢̢̡͍̹͍̼̺̪͇͖̰̩͚̮̥̗̭̣̫̟̟̙̌̅̈̂̋̅̈́͌̾̽̃̓̚͘͝ͅ ̶̢̨̢̨̧͎͇͇͎̞͎̭͔̱̰̻̭̼͈̖̭͍̖̙̰͈̖̲̩̩͕̼̝͉̹͖͋͊͂̃̃̏͗͗̊̈́̿̑͆̾̎̊̈́͆̓̚̕ͅĄ̷̨̡̧̩̜̮̻̦̝̦͉̗̙̠̞͕͈̟͙͍͔̹̞̫̟͖̰̰͚͖͚̩̭̘͊̈́͂̽̉̓̓̏͆͐̐̓͑̂̀̈̔̍͋̚͘͜͝͠ ̷̧̧̡̧̧̘̼̫͎̣͍͕͚̬̗͖̦̤͕̲̥̳͚̩͋̓̐͌̈̅̓͛͑̅̾̾̒̌̿̿͊̋̈́̈́͋̏͂͌͛̃̌̇̄̐̚͘͜͜͜͝͝͠ͅN̵̛̦̍́̇̿͗͊̈͆͝͝͝ ̷̨̧̡̛̟͚̘͙̮̝̬̲͔̫̠̱͎͉̬̞͖͖̖̘͍̖͔͖͙̦̝͕̩̞̳͔͋̀͋͛͊̐̋̽́̽͑̉̔͑͋̋͘͜͝͝’̸̡̢̡̧̡̡̛̜̙͕͍̫̭̙͎̺̞̭̮̱̩̣̰͖̻͕͉̘̹̗̪̖͇̻̦͉̐̎̃̈́̋͌͛͐̈́̎̐̿͂̌̇̽̎̄̑̊̃͑͌̆̂̈́̇̃͘̕͘̕͠ͅ ̶̨̨̹̰̦͓͎͔͔̠̝͓̯͓̙̗̮̫̹͚̜̼̲̱̭̥̯̻̫̦͈̖̦̎͌̓̓̄͋̓̈͗́̓̓̓̎͆̐̚͜͜͠ͅT̷̨̢̛̻̘̠͈̹͍̗͇̣͎̭͕͍̹̠̬̪̝̲̥̙͖͚̤̪̒̌̄̌̓̓̈́̃̒̃̓̌͂̽̔̐̇́̉͌͂̎̔̕͘̕͝͝͠ͅ ̸̢̱̳̫͈̱̊̽́̎͊̂̽͝ͅ ̷̨̢̛̣͈̟̳͈̩͚͙͔̣̬͍̩̮̭̰̦̦͇̯͔̰͎͕͎̣̹̯͔̪͖̜͔̙̬̫̮̠̠͒̈̊̀̓̓̏͋̐̾̏̏̉̉̅̋̓̉̆̓̚͠Ş̶̡͖̞̺̞͎̠̥̝͔̯̯̮͍̩͓̜̝̿̆͑̓͘͝͝͝ͅ ̵̡̛̖͖͍̗͔͇̳͉͔̖͇̪̰͖̲̺͇̬̭̘͖̜͎͎̦̼̮̰̥̦̘̰͉̥͚͚͕̣̂̉̔͐̿̈́͐̊̏̂̈́̽̃̉̉̿̔̐͋̑̂̐̕͘̚̕͜͜͝͠Ḝ̵̟͔̘̮̰͔͉͕͔̯̥̫͚̦̟̭̬̻̬̄͒̎̑͗̾͑̍͑̈̍̆͌̔́̄̾̊͐͝͠ ̶̳̳̤͖̝̌͠ͅĘ̸̨̨̪͉̖̗̟͚̲̤̻̺͔̖͎͇̼͍̺̼̬̬̯̻̺̤͙͈̗̲͈͙̤̳̪̺̉͐̾͗̄͂͆̓͗̆͋̆̆͘͘͠ ̶̗̳̠̥͕̺̗̗͍͓͛͗̿̇͐̔͆̀͑̉͜͠͠ ̸̨̢̧̜͓̟̫̣̹̫̯͔͍̤̙̩̝̙̲̖̺̤̼̖̭̠̗͙͕̠̜͓̱͎̮̠͖͇͍̼͋͒̐͋̊͐̒̆͐̄̂́̂̅͒̀͗̀́͌̄͊̑̓́̈́̍̑̓͘̚̚͝͠͝M̴̛̙̤͈̞̖̖̘̭̜͇̣͇̝̪͓̾͗̒͆̈̀̓͂̑̊̽̾͂̂̋̾̃̇̔̓͊͗̆̚͠ ̵͚̱̺́̍̀́̑͌͂̅̇̍̄͜͝Ẽ̸̢̛̛̖͍̞̯̪̫̮̮̫̘̝͇̭̪̯̭̣̙̒̇̓̊̈͑̐͑̽̿̀̆̓̅̈͌̉͊̑͊̂͑̓̄͗̉̊͋͝ͅ ̶̡̨̧͙̺͍͖͉̜͙̝̣̪̥̗̲̪͓̰̤̬̝͚̩̹͙̰̝̙̣̥̼͉̰̦̈͐̾̈̐̆̅̋̕͜͝.̸̨̠̪̭͖͍̭͉͚̹̜̦̗̱̥̗͉͚̑̐̈̆̒̍̓̋̈́̒͗̌̃͆̎͗̂̑̃̌͠͝ͅ ̵̨̨̢̧̛̛̛̘̣͕̘͈̣͍͔̞͓̥̱̘͇̝̠̭̼̪̳̬̹̹̞͌̒̈́͂̓͊̋̔̿̃̽̓́͛͌͐̃͒̈́̌̓̒̂͑͊̿͘̚͜͝͝͝͝C̶̙͚̝̱̩̤̳͓͖̾͋̎͑̇̈̃̇̍̆͊̎̋̌̏̈́̑̿̚ ̸̱̝̫̲̦̳̟͙̱̹̳͉͕̥͎͇̣̙̗͚̘̝͎͊͆͌͌̿̍̎͐̐̓̅͋̈̎͂͑͂̄̈́̊͛̋̎̋̓̎̎̀̊̊̕̚͘͝͝ͅA̷̢̧̢̛̜̮͚̮͎̅̓̄͒̇̋̿̓̎̍̎͆̌͑̽͐͑̐̒̀͂̏̎̕͜ ̷̬̱̦̪̗̖͊̽͐̍͆͑̐́̽̍̐̉̈́̐̇́̊̈́͛̄͊̿̍̃̌̊͊̾̔̽̌̕̕̚̚͝ͅŅ̴̨̨̛̩̝̼̱͇̣͓͇̦͉̗͍͖̯̜̓̌͒͐̓̄̏̓̓̑̇̐̽̆͋̋̈͋̀̄͌͘̚̚͝͝͝͝͠͠ ̴̠͔̥͎͈̝͎̃̾̽́̊̽̿͆̎͂̄̒̉̃̒͒̂̉̂͒͌̈́͆͋̊̂̚͜͝͠͝ͅ’̵̨̨̨͖̼̙̦̺͎͇͈̳̠͎̞͖̘͚̱̺̣̰̞͍̰͎͇̹̪̲͓̰͍̞̞͇̥̠̭̄̈́́̿̊̎̋͑̂̚͠ͅͅ ̵̢̧̧̛͕̗̺̜͓̥͍̠̙̟̬̫̭̙͔͕̞̭̮̫̦̟͇͙͙̈́̈͐͆̉̎͌͛̓̔̐̓̆̉̋͐̐̅̈̽̿͊̓͊̔̋̏̏̈́́͊̍͆́͘͘̚̚͜͠ͅͅT̶̡̢̢̧̧̛̛̛̞͍͖̠̣̮͕̜͈͖͓̗̩͕̱̝̘̞̩͍̜̲̰͕̮̣̲̫͒̀̎͗̎́̏͌̂̃̆̽́̀͑̾́͑͗͋͐̔͊̐̉́̚̕͘͝͝͝ͅͅ ̴̡̲̗̙͈͚̮̤̤̺̱͙̹͎͇̳̣̺͔̞͙̘̗͈̩̼͇̤̯̺̥͉͖͔̓̾̏̓͊́̓̌̒̇͒͝…̴̧̥͇̙͕̲̫͚͛͆̊̆̾͒͆̈́̈́͊̑̽̿̎̂͗̀́̓͆̈̕̕̕͘͝͝͝͝͝ͅͅ ̴̧̧̧̨̨͎͓̬̞͉̳̠͉̮̗͉̭̖̟̗̥̙̙̦̳̖̞͍̦̫̣̮̺͎̹̠͕̫͇̑̐͗̈͒͋̔̃̇̌̄̕̕͜͝͝ͅS̵̡̨̡͉̹̝̺̠̠̥̥͖̠͔̖̳̫͕̻͍͖̟͍̺͎̱͖͇̙̠̺̈͊͐͜ͅ ̵̡̠͙̺̠̭̼̳̘̠͙̫̠͇̻̗̫͔͕̹͉͎̈̒́͑̓̀͂̐͊̍͑̋͑͆̌̈́̑͛͗͐̈́̈́̿̈́̀͋̎̇̏͐͐͒̌͜͝͝͝Ȩ̴̬̖̰͙̲̃̈̏̇͝ ̸͉̣̘̺̼͉̟̭̥͚͖́̒̚ͅË̵̡̳̖̻̳͖͍̻͉̪̪̻͈́͜͜ͅ ̸̧̪̻̭͙̜̹̻̣͙̳̙̺̪̥̟̐̄̋̄̽̓̈͌̄͆̋̚͘͜ͅ…̶̧̧̛̞̹̝̼̖̻͙͈̹̫̭̃̓̒̎̔̈́̆̂̋̒̌̈́͋̿̐̅̈́̃̑̓͜
“It’s going to be alright, Nene-chan,” Aoi said, as the thing pulled itself back to outside the window, and walked away, the rope above it snapping and snatching against the cherry blossoms, painting them black.
Nene’s breath hitched, bile rising, stomach clenching, and doubled over.
(“…another victim claimed, no bodies found, starting to see connections… ”)
ii.
Nene had gone to the shrines, to holy places, bought every bracelet, every necklace, splashed herself with holy water and could only watch in dull horror as it burned her skin. All of them.
The same kind of horror every priest, every shaman looked at her with.
“I’m sorry,” repeated, over and over again, from the bright afternoon sun to the deep red of the day settling into night, between each shadow clinging to the shadows, the heads turning when she passed, the same question, over and over and over and over –
“I’m so sorry.”
So. So, she couldn’t find help locally. That was—
Nene bit her fist to keep a scream from coming out, because her parents were asleep, and nobody else could see them. Nobody else, and she didn’t want to have to be afraid of people too in addition to this.
This.
Nene had spent the first twenty minutes after the first encounter sobbing into Aoi’s arms, clinging to the back of her friend’s dress, and not even Akane-kun could bring himself to tear her away, when he had shown up.
Something had flashed over his face, and the only thing he’d done was usher the both of them somewhere a little more private, at the farthest corner of the hallway. Aoi hadn’t even batted an eyelash when Nene had all but given her usually pristine uniform with tears and snot, and Akane-kun had fetched his childhood friend her spare uniform from her locker, and had given a handkerchief to Nene.
She had thanked both of them with a shaky, tear-clogged voice, and soon it was time for class, was probably starting right that second, and Aoi had given her one last hug before they all had to go off and be supposedly productive members of society.
They were assigned seats, and Nene had gotten one right next to the window.
Nene had sat down on her seat, and stared at the board straight ahead, and refused to turn her head to see what was making the shadow swaying back and forth over her desk.
She had bit at her lips, so hard she drew blood, and how could they not notice it?
“̸P̴L̴E̷A̴S̸E̶.̶”̷
It sang, occasionally tapping at the glass, the unmistakable sound of slurping and lips wetly smacking against each other. So loud, it rang in her ears until it was the only sound she could hear.
“̸S̸O̷M̵E̵O̶N̸E̷.̵”̷
Scraping, down the entire length of glass, and nene stared ahead, unseeing, wondering. Nobody else could ehar it. Was something wrong with her? Was it—
“̵C̵O̴M̴E̴ W̶I̸T̴H̷ M̴E̵.̸”̵
She had clenched her eyes shut, grit her teeth together. Shook her head, though she couldn’t tell, she shook so hard she could feel her bones rattling against each other.
And then?
And then – Nene found something tugging at her eyelids, sharp movements nearly tearing her eyes open. The exact same sensation pulled and prodded at her arms, her neck, as the breathing beside her got louder and louder.
In her mind’s eye, she could see a hand-puppet with a needle going through its skin, threading string through the bleeding hole it left, and tugging. Movements jerky, propelled by the will of someone else.
Because it wasn’t her will that had her head jerking towards the window, eyes so wide they strained in her skull, watering at the edges.
There was a noose hanging in the wind, and she could hear the way the rope scuffed against the wood of the trees outside, the body it held slowly turning until Nene saw…
Ruby eyes, sunken into decay, framed by pale hair, and a smile knit into its – her – face, stitches stretching all the way up to the underside of her ears.
(When it was time to leave, she all but scrambled towards the door, hair flying behind her as she swirled, and got through three steps before she couldn’t’ walk anymore. She couldn’t hear Aoi-‘s voice, could barely feel the way the other girl tugged at her sleeves. Akane-kun had come by again, staring at the far wall and she didn’t see the flash in his eyes, the way his eyes dated back and forth between her and what she was staring, the confusion so clear between him and his childhood friend.
They both tugged at her then, forcing legs as shaky as a newborn fowl’s into leaving the classroom. But even as they left Nene’s gaze was frozen on the wall, eyes darting up and down, like she was reading something.
Aoi had clutched at her sleeve and tried her best to smile, bringing Nene out of her shock. It wobbled on her best friend’s face, barely staying, and Nene bit down on her tongue until it bled to stop herself from crying all over again—
“S-sorry, I got distracted. W-w-w-e. N-next cl…class…?”
Shadows clawed into the far walls of the classroom, dripping sluggishly, ‘c o m e w i t h m e’ scratched and painted and drawn over each other over and over and over—)
Nene blinked at her still-normal ceiling, brought back from her memories, and dully wondered how long that would last.
…No.
Nene slapped at her cheeks, teeth grinding against each other. No, no. If she gave in now, if she gave in, what would happen—
She tossed her covers off, suddenly feeling too warm for her own skin, an itch taking over her entire body. Her breath fogged in the air of her room even though fire burned through her veins.
She rubbed at sleep crusted eyes because she was sure, so sure, that something would come back if she closed her eyes for too long, if she bowed her head and something would reach out, drowning her in the sink? If someone was waiting for her behind the shower curtain? If—
Nene reached over to her nightstand where her phone was charging, and punched in ‘exorcism.’
The results it yielded her weren’t anything really substantial, the fare of conmen and women, falsehoods sweetened by silver tongues.
Nene gripped at her phone. There had to be something. Had to be. Had to.
If there wasn’t—
It was 3 AM and 110 pages of Google searches later that she stumbled into a site, looking like it came out directly from 2006 and frankly not much better than the hundreds of sites that came between them, but –
Well.
Nene clicked on it, and found herself staring at a site of yellow on black, and the words: CUT THE STRINGS WHILE YOU STILL CAN OR ELSE YOU’LL END UP JUST LIKE—
Static filled her screen, and Nene shot up from her bed, fingers scrabbling against the screen. A long, low moan emanated from the speakers, sending goosebumps up her arm, trickling into fear at the back of her throat.
And then it shrieked.
“CUT THE STRINGS WHILE YOU STILL CAN—”
Static roared, and Nene frantically tried to bring the volume down.
“CUT THE STRINGS—”
It only shrieked louder, the words garbled and throaty not unlike—
“CUT”
“NENE”
“CUT”
Shock burst like lightning up her spine, down into her arms, and she threw the phone against the wall, and threw her hands over her eyes, whimpering. The battery slid over the floor, towards her door, the rest of the phone a mess of parts on the ground, still. The shrieking died down, turned into high-pitched static, and Nene watched the screen still alight at the floor. It was clear as day, through the hole she found in the center of her palm.
(“…have identified a profile: high school to middle-school aged girls, mid-height…”)
iii.
There was a hallway leading to the classrooms at the highschool section of Kamome Academy, a small, compact thing that was built to accommodate students rushing in between buildings. It was somewhat dim, bare, only juniors and seniors really used it, and best of all? It had no windows.
And Aoi wasn’t sure she trusted windows right now, near her friend.
She was walking behind Nene-chan, watching the way she seemed to curl in on herself, eyes darting every which way, shuddering away from every dark spot. Like fear had sunk its claws into her and seeped panic into every drop of blood.
Akane-kun had been oddly silent when she asked him if he knew anything. After all, as Vice President of the Student Council, he and Minamoto-senpai were there as early as the teachers, so surely he knew something, right?
Akane had gone silent, gaze turned inward, and said, “No.”
He even seemed as frustrated about it as she did.
He had gone off to the Student Council Room before Nene-chan could arrive, and Nene had requested to use this hallway, which brought them back to now.
(“What…?” Nene had blinked, looked around in bewilderment, “Aoi-chan, I—”
She had been slumped against the stairs, asleep, Aoi having to wake her up with a light shake to her shoulders.
Aoi had smiled, and pretended not to hear it when Nene had whispered to herself, “…I didn’t want to come to school today…”)
Maybe…maybe she wanted to see Minamoto-senpai? He was somewhat known to come here whenever he walked to the Council room, so…
Aoi’s fingers clutched at her bag straps, squaring her shoulders. If Nene needed a little normalcy, needed some crushes and romantic dreams for even the slightest bit of normalcy, she’d do her best to give her just that.
“Nene-chan!” she chirped, jogging a bit to walk beside her, keeping her smile on even when Nene flinched in her own skin, “Are you here to see Minamoto-senpai?”
Nene blinked owlishly at her, arms folded over each other on her chest. Aoi could feel her chest constrict at how pale her friend was.
“…S-Sure!” Nene tried for cheerful and ended up with a poor facsimile to it, straight at the edges of her vowels, “S-So. Can. W-we use this hallway again…?”
Nene’s eyes were firmly shut, her lips wobbling, and Aoi couldn’t find it in herself to say no. Nene’s head seemed to list off to one side, avoiding her left side to the point she was walking stilted.
“Sure, Nene-chan!” she beamed, and thought that sacrificing the view of cherry blossoms dappled in sunlight was worth getting her friend to smile again.
Steps echoed from down the hall, Aoi’s gaze flitting towards the source to see blonde hair, a tall frame, and an immaculate uniform. Minamoto-senpai.
Nene’s grip on her arms tightened, and Aoi could only think of how nervous she was. Nene had always been a dreamer, a little shy around pretty faces, and she tried to smile at the other girl to give off reassurance.
The steps had stopped in front of them, and Nene hadn’t even looked up. Aoi almost frowned, tried to reach out to Nene again, when Minamoto-senpai had beat her to the action.
She flinched, violently, and Aoi didn’t even need to think to shove Minamoto-senpai away from her friend, “Sorry, senpai! Nene-chan isn’t feeling well right now!”
Aoi took Nene’s arm and bit at her lip when she felt bone through cloth.
(But Nene had been looking back, while Aoi tried to march forward. Nene was looking back, at the monster that had been clinging to one of her shoulders, how it wriggled and whimpered on the ground after Minamoto-senpai had touched her. Nene was looking at him, always looked at him since that opening day, and this time—
Minamoto-senpai looked back.)
(…first body found, only bones left…)
iv.
So.
It was Monday.
And Nene had taken to following Minamoto-senpai.
Nene looked at herself in the compact mirror Aoi had lent her and sighed heavily.
She was stalking him, she could admit that. But she could live with it, could deal with the shame burning in the pit of her stomach if only because—
There was nothing, nothing in sight. And Nene hasn’t found the ability to walk on steady legs when she’s finally reached safety.
Hearing the click and slide of a door opening, Nene angled the mirror so she could see Minamoto-senpai walk out, seeing his ever handsome self walking down the hall in the opposite direction. There was something undulating at the corner end of where he was walking, gore rubbed into the very walls, and she had bit back bile at the sight of it at first, but now that senpai was here…!
(Nene could admit her daydreams about senpai had gotten more frequent, more elaborate, less among the lines of sweet nothings and hair tucked behind ears and more of gallant heroism and promises to protect her as long as they lived, and—
They always ended the same way. Admiration turning into disgust when he found out. The waiting. The following.
The stalking.
And she never found it in herself to even blame him, always exited the stage with something tugging at her, jerking her away from the scene and away from the spotlight with bleeding strings.)
Senpai hadn’t even blinked at the filth on the walls, the floors, had had the same reaction throughout the week she’d been…watching him. He only ever needed to touch them, to make them go away.
And they never made a sound, just withered away, gone with the wind, stopped disturbing people and gave her peace and Nene had laughed until she cried into her pillows when she figured that out.
Nene wriggled at the spot she sat on the floor, watching Teru’s elegance in the mirror and not afraid to let out a strangled, relieved sound when senpai reached his hand out towards the monster. It was fine, he wouldn’t hear her where he was, and no one else was in the school at this point of time. He murmured to himself, patting at his stomach, and a scene flashed over her eyes, of her cooking his favorite meals.
Only to have him slide her dishes back over, smile strained on his lovely face. The scene zoomed out, finally letting her see the rope tying him to the chair.
But it was fine!
It was fine, she knew. Senpai had reached the monster, stopped it from wriggling away, and Nene would finally count down the seconds before she could finally go home without it blocking her way. She watched it squirm, in the mirror, senpai’s grip unrelenting before—
“I suppose you’ll do,” he mused out loud, and leaned down to sink his teeth into the black mass.
It shrieked, “M̷̦̈ ̵̰̍A̶̜̾ ̸͙͋ ̶̹̆A̴̦̎ ̴̙̈ ̷̜̿ ̵̹̏A̴͉͑ ̷̢͠Ả̶̘ ̶̣͐Ä̴̤́ ̸̡͌Ā̷̘ ̷̰̚Ă̴̟ ̴̙͝Ȃ̵̲ ̶̬̾A̴̭̓A̶̰͂—̷̛͉”̶͉͝
Nene dropped the compact from numb fingers.
It kept shrieking, amongst the slurping, flesh tearing, something wet dropping onto the linoleum floors with a splat. Distantly, it reminded Nene of dropping fresh chicken on the floor at home, months ago.
Senpai chews so loudly, Nene was thinking, over and over, trying to rearrange the fantasy in her head into something that aligned with what she knew now, and the dishes she made were bleeding ink black over the tablecloth in her mind’s eye, with senpai free to move and laugh and talk, as Nene watched him with mute horror, still in her chair, arms bound to her sides, and rope burn stung didn’t it?
He was still chewing, and he did it with his mouth open.
The sound seemed to come from her brain, tearing at the inner walls of her brain, reverberating and ringing in her ears.
And then it was right next to her.
“Yash̷̯̀ĩ̸͈r̶̙̀o̶͉͝-san,” he said, pleasantly, and the little thing in his hands had stopped crying, stopped making any sound at all. It lay there in his grip, limp, “What are you d̷͆͜ǫ̷͐ḯ̶̙ň̸̠g̸̭̚ ̷̒ͅḧ̴̖ȩ̴̓r̶̍͜e̷͚͘ ̵͎͗ so late? Shall I walk you h̷̝͠ô̸̜m̵̩͑e̷̙̐?”
He smiled, and gore dripped from his chin.
“H-H-Ho—” sound ceased to tear itself from her throat, Nene half-scrambling away from him.
Senpai blinked, slowly, so perfectly quaint, and took another bite. It sprayed blood over his skin, on the floor, her skirt, “Hm? Oh, are you asking about y̷̭͗̏̅o̵̩̟̱̺̅̆̄ṷ̷̈̐̎͊ȓ̶͔̟ ̴͕̩̗̇̔n̷͔̳̪͂̓͝a̴̡͝m̸̲̮̺̂e̵̱̗̤̾̌͌?”
Nene gripped at the walls, fingers scrabbling for a handhold, anything to help her get up.
“Well, my b̸r̵o̷t̷h̸e̴r̵ ̴i̷s̴ ̶g̷o̵i̵n̶g̶ to be transferring here you see,” he smiled, and Nene felt ice flow down her spine at how fond it was, “A̸l̴l̶ ̴t̵h̵e̵ ̸w̵a̷y̵ ̸f̶r̴o̴m̷ ̷h̵o̶m̵e̷,̵ ̵t̵h̶e̶ ̶l̷o̶w̶e̶r̴ ̷d̵i̷s̶t̴r̸i̵c̸t̸s̴.”
Run, she pulled away from the wall, dug her nails into her skin, Run, please, please.
“He’s so hungry, all the time. Although I guess that’s normal for growing boys.”
And again—
Blood ran down her ankles, her palms and back and every movement yanked her forward instead of letting her perform movements, but that was okay.
That was okay, be—
Nene(?) blinked up at Minamoto-senpai, looked down at herself and jumped, “M-M-Minamoto-senpai!” she flushed, her hands clasping together in front of her, “S-Sorry you had to see that.”
She(?) smiled up at him, her(?) best one, and she(?) couldn’t really remember what was happening before…? Why was she(?) on the floor?
But then. Minamoto-senpai smiled, and she(?) couldn’t hold back from swooning, and promptly forgot it all in a pleasant haze.
(“…Due to the peace over the various districts, the council has arranged for a festival…”)
v.
Nene blinks.
Nene blinks, and when she moves her arms, they feel like her own, muscle and tissue and sinew. She looks up, and sees Aoi’s bright eyes, a giggle barely held back behind her lips. But there’s a scream clawing at her from the back of her brain, spiders crawling under her skin, tremors rocking her back and forth.
There was a line of nooses at the window, swaying lightly in the breeze, and Nene didn’t know what to make of the way her shoulders seemed to feel lighter at the sight of them.
Aoi takes both her hands, and Nene has to turn to face her again. They’re wearing their friendship watches, she noticed. It was small, and cute, and Nene had a matching one at home. It was pink, with a crochet strap. There was a small screen at one edge, glaring red, showing her the date.
She felt her mouth go dry.
“Nene-chan,” Aoi was whispering, their classmates...surrounding them. They were in the hallway, but she could see Yamabuki-kun peeking out from the door to their classroom, the others bunched right behind him. She caught Yamabuki-kun’s eye, and he gave her an encouraging smile alongside a thumbs up.
Akane merely gave her a level stare.
“…Aoi-chan,” Nene breathed, watching the way it drained the joy from her friend’s face, “What day is it?”
Aoi’s mouth opened, before it closed again with a quiet snap, “…It’s Thursday, Nene-chan. You know,” she pressed her lips together, “The day you’ve been waiting for since Monday?”
Nene stared at her. Aoi had taken her hands and held them together between them.
Monday?
Monday.
Monday—
(“— your name, Yashiro-san?—”)
Monday.
Nene’s grip tightened, eyes closing shut, shoulders drooping, “What…happened? Can you tell me? I’ve just been so—”
Days, she’s lost days when was this going to end how was this going to end what would happen next whyherwhysenpaihisbrotherwashungrybutwhatdidthatmeanshewasjustso—
“…tired,” Nene felt her grip go weak in Aoi’s, “Please? For me?”
Aoi’s eyes searched her face, brow slowly scrunching, and oh? Aoi-kun was here. When had that happened? Nene blinked, squinting at the floors until the patterns stopped to blur and run together, and dimly registered the low whispers surrounding her.
“Minamoto had called you here for something,” Akane explained, voice beside her. Nene hissed out a breath, felt like she could hardly breathe at all, and the nooses’ shadows stretched over the floors, circling her.
Anyone could see what he could have called her for. The windows were open, ushering in spring, delicate pink cherry blossoms floating in. Nene could file bile rise up her throat.
Whatdoeshewantmeforhesaidhisbrother was h u n g r y.
“Don’t you—” Aoi whispered, stepping closer to Nene, “Don’t you want this, Nene-chan…?”
“…Hey,” Yamabuki-kun spoke up from the classroom, and Nene could see him ushering the rest of their classmates back inside, “If you don’t want to go out with him you don’t have to, y’know?”
Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, her lip wobbling, a sob caught between her teeth. Yamabuki-kun had stepped out and placed a comforting hand on Yashiro’s shoulder, Aoi’s confused but still understanding, so understanding.
“Can I ask why, Nene-chan?” Aoi whispered, as Yamabuki-kun pulled away with Akane-kun in tow, saying something about trying to settle the class down, “You’ve had a crush on him for a little while now, so I thought…”
Nene opened her mouth, but found it too dry to form words, not anymore.
“D-Do you have a new crush, Nene-chan, is that why?” Aoi’s voice was strained, and Nene could recognize a person grasping at straws, trying to find a reason for something, anything – she sounded just like her, the night she had broken her phone, “Or— a boyfriend? Is that it, Nene-chan…?”
“I…”
Nene listed off to one side, eyes glazing over.
“Hm, is that so?”
Only to have something primal scream it’s way under her skin when she felt something stop her from completely falling over.
“Well, that’s fine!” Minamoto-senpai hummed, and she couldn’t feel the vibrations his voice should have made against his chest. Nene flinched away from him as though burned, and found a hand firm on her shoulder stopping her from completely pulling away, “My brother and I had wanted to go to an – event, you see. A small festival downtown.”
There were no festivals at this time of year, were they? Not while school was in session, and local events were always announced beforehand, so—
Nene looked at Aoi, who was looking at the hand placed on Nene’s shoulder, “Senpai, shouldn’t you let go of Nene-chan?”
Aoi herself then let go of Nene’s hands, placing her own on her waist, “And what festival is this, senpai? There aren’t any—”
Aoi’s eyes glazed over. Her head jerked, then snapped backward.
Nene screamed, rushing forward.
Minamoto-senpai refused.
“Why-are-you-upset, Ne-ne-chan?”Aoi asked, her arms raising by the elbows, hands dangling at the end. Nene watched, could only ever watched, as a hole pierced through, as thread slid in, went back up and yanked, forcing Aoi to throw herself forward until she was right in front of her again. But her head was bowed, limp, bobbing ever so slightly as she(?) spoke, “Should-we-go-to-the-nurse-es-off-ice?”
And Aoi collapsed, a ragdoll against the floor, eyes glassy. Like a puppet with strings cut.
“Sloppy work,” Minamoto-senpai commented dryly, “But nevermind that, Yashiro-san.”
He took her palm and pressed two tickets into her hand, “My family and I will be attending the event as well, I hope you and your…boyfriend can stop by.” He smiled.
He tilted her head backwards, far enough so she could see him, “My brother would like to meet you as well. Ah, but if nothing else, we can always pay her a visit?”
He stretched a languid finger towards…Aoi(?) and all at once, the dull static weighing Nene down roared, ears popping, her spine straightening. Her fists clenched at her sides, and she bit down so hard on her lip she drew blood.
“…No,” she whispered, eyes flying open to stare at him right in the eye, teeth clacking against each other, “I’ll go.”
The same smile, at that ceremony a lifetime ago, “Good choice.”
Then he let her go, let her fall to the floor. Nene waited until she couldn’t hear him anymore, before crawling forward, and held up Aoi by the shoulders. Both of her eyes drifted away from each other, and Nene let out a shuddery breath, and held her.
She couldn’t feel her heart beat anymore.
(“In local news, the Minamoto family is hosting a small festival in the downtown area of—”)
vi.
Nene held Aoi until she was back to herself, large eyes and bright smile, and she was a little confused? Why were they on the floor?
Then she saw the absolute mess Nene was trying to pass off for ‘I’m okay, really’ and tugged her to somewhere more private. Aoi had turned a little to give Akane a small wave. Akane had been blinking, head turning both ways, eyebrows furrowed.
Nene found herself being led to the old building, at the girl’s bathroom, and wasn’t the stained glass lovely in sunset?
Aoi had turned on the faucets, dampening her handkerchief to dab at her make-up, trying to strike idle chatter. Anything to make Nene talk. Anything at all.
But one glance at her watch told her she was running out of time before the curfew her parents had set for her came.
“…”
When she didn’t get a response, Aoi bit at the inside of her cheek, before slapping on another smile, “Ah, have I told you about the rumor here?”
Nene blinked, and finally, finally, looked at Aoi, instead of the listless staring she had been doing, her gaze distant at the stained glass, “…eh?”
“Hanako-san of the Toilets!” Aoi urged, tried to throw her entire body into gesturing, like if she was animated enough for the both of them it would be enough, “They say if you knock on the third stall and call out her name twice, you can ask her to grant any wish you have!”
Nene blinked, uncoordinated, but something sparked again in her eyes, and Aoi could have cried out in relief, “Really?”
Aoi nodded enthusiastically, “Definitely.”
The edges of her friend’s mouth curled upwards, and Aoi returned the gesture. Finally. When Nene looked down at her watch, it disappeared, but—
Hope burned bright in her eyes, and while Aoi couldn’t stay, she could tell that Nene would be—
“Isn’t it almost your curfew, Aoi-chan?” Nene asked.
Aoi wished it wasn’t, “Yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
Please, Aoi wished, as she exchanged the usual goodbyes with her friend, out the school gates, into the street, knuckles white on her bagstraps, Please, let me see her again tomorrow.
(“The Minamoto family is celebrating the arrival of their second, Minamoto Kou—”)
vii.
“Hanako-san, Hanako-san. Are you there?”
Three seconds, eight, twelve—
Please, she begged, prayed, screamed at anything that would listen, please. Please.
Please.
“I’m heeeere~” a long, languid half-yawn, from right behind her ear.
He had choppy black hair under his hat, dressed in black from head to toe in an old uniform, and worst of all he was at her height, perfect to let him stare right past her eyes and straight into her soul. He was looking at a point just over her shoulders. But—
He was here.
“…Hanako-san?” she breathed.
He smiled, and for the first time she saw there was a knife in one of his hands, “Yes…and no.”
Nene staggered to the side, catching herself on the wall.
“Oh, you still get a wish, don’t worry,” he beamed, suddenly, making her step back, “I did use the Hanako rumor to get to this layer of consciousness after all, so I still have to abide by the rules a little. It's a respect thing.”
…it was real. Something roared in Nene’s ears, washing out whatever Hanako-san was saying.
“I could even hear some of what you and your friend talked about earlier,” he revealed easily, kicking off the floor to float, making Nene crane her neck to keep looking at him, let her see the way his grin stretched across his face, drinking in his features, “But she didn’t tell you the whole rumor.”
He floated downwards, upside-down but face to face with Nene, “A wish comes with a price. Nothing in this world’s for free, y’know?” he chuckled lightly, “So I’ll give you this chance to run, now—”
“You’re real,” she blurted out, reaching out, a whimper escaping her when her hands passed through him, “You’re— You’re real.”
His eyes were wide as he stared at her, then jumped a bit when she slid down to the floor. He got on his knees right beside her, the knife tucked away somewhere she couldn’t see. But her vision was blurring, colors washing together, and it was only when Nene reached upwards to feel her face did she register she was crying.
“Hey— you don’t need to cry, the price isn’t anything so bad as your life! Well, I mean you know, depending on your wish—?”
“Help me,” she choked out, “Please.”
“That’s what I’m…here…for…?” he trailed off, eyes searching her, “Just tell me your name and, and your wish so I know what to do.”
Nene took a deep breath, and found nothing coming out around the ball lodged in her throat. She scrabbled at her face, could feel herself reddening in frustration, and what was she supposed towishfor?
To stop seeing all those monsters? Minamoto-senpai to disappear? To make sure Aoi was saved? What if senpai went after her other classmates instead? What if senpai’s brother went after her? What if the rest of the family did, if she ever wished one of their children away? How was she going to be safe if she enver knew when those
strings
would
just—
“You can see them,” he stated, not asked, and Nene didn’t know that ghosts could lose color like he did, didn’t know they could convey terror like he could, “You can see the strings?”
“I can feel them,” Nene answered, tired, so tired, her eyes heavy and half-closed, “it— It makes me do things and I was always awake when it first did but just this morning I— it was supposed to be Monday,” she finished with a whisper.
“It’s supposed to be Monday,” she repeated, uselessly, and wished, so hard, for someone to hold, to ground herself in the touch of another. But Hanako-san was a ghost, and a stranger, so—
Warm, hands so warm and heavy, laid on both of her shoulders, and Nene’s eyes shot up to see—
Hanako-san, no longer translucent, eyes burning in the sunlight, and a smile smaller but warmer than the ones he had shown earlier on his face, “It’s okay. It’s alright. You…you’ve been dealing this on your own, right? That’s…”
He trailed off, eyes glinting, then, “You did a good job, lasting as long as you did. Most don’t last a day, even. I didn’t.”
He pet her shoulder, “But I need the full story if that wish wants to happen. So. Why don’t we talk for a little bit?” he coaxed, and while Nene felt like a child, truly childish like she was seven and scared of monsters under her bed again, she couldn’t help it—
The next thing that tore out of her throat wasn’t the story, nothing really helpful, but a scream mixed with tears, every single sob she had choked back the past week or so coming out in ragged shrieking.
Her ears rung, and she was sure her nose was running, and Nene had sat back and watched as reality tore itself apart in front of her for so long that each guttural noise that ripped through her seemed to mourn for everything she used to know, but the weight of hands on her shoulders never moved away.
They were warm, and they stayed.
xxx.
“Her hamster was so cute, Amane, you should’ve seen it, it was really tiny like –”
“She can see the strings, Tsu.”
“…oh.”
“Yeah, oh.”
“Is that why you told me to go an’,” hands flapped about in gestures so abstract not even Amane could try to begin and decipher them, “Her mom and dad? Cause there’s no mom and dad.”
“There’s no—”
“Living alone, yeah. Guess we can keep her here.”
“…Mm.”