Chapter Text
Buzzing school halls, phones ringing in the staff room, chattering coworkers, supportive teachers to students, the cicadas chirping, the summer breeze ringing wind chimes- all these things were an everyday occurrence for a teacher. Ticking off answer sheets with red ink and writing evaluations at the top left corner of each graded paper. The summer heat filtered in through the cracked window in the staff room and sweat dropped down the necks’ and off the chins’ of the staff who were present in the room.
Two teachers in the staff room sat desk by desk, chatting away as good coworkers, and even better friends, do in between small teacher tasks. A strong breeze howled through the window crack as the sun bore down into the room. The two teachers- two men who were fairly popular among the school’s staff and students alike- halted their conversation momentarily as they glanced outside from the second floor of the school building.
They glanced at each other before they were talking once again- as if they hadn’t gone silent at all.
-x-x-x-
What was supposed to be an early night off work somehow flipped completely on its head as you were the last of the staff to be leaving the izakaya; well aside from the owner of course. You don’t know how you managed to get yourself wrapped up into more hours the same time your shift was initially supposed to end.
Was it because the person who was supposed to relieve you never showed and only offered a half-hearted text saying they couldn’t make it for whatever reason? Was it your stupid inability to say no even if you really didn’t want to take on another few hours? It certainly wasn’t the already tipsy, unwound late-night, and after-work crowd that had you sticking around after all.
Although an izakaya was a rather lax place for the crowds to come and relax by drinking and ordering small portions of foods and snacks, the drunken crowd still isn’t the best to deal with.
You’ve been working at the izakaya for a few years, so you knew the ins and outs of how to handle any drunken situation- from a passed-out customer to an angry drunk. It’s still a job where you wait on people left and right and some people just aren’t very hospitable.
Politely bowing and bidding your boss a goodnight, you slide the wooden door shut and turn before you’re walking past the red, hanging cloths in the entrance. You stand in front of the establishment as you stretch.
Hiking your purse strap further up your shoulder, you roll down the sleeves of your jacket. It was the middle of summer, but still somehow tonight there was a chill in the air that made your skin raise in gooseflesh and your hairs stand. You regret wearing shorts to work because the chill ran through your entire being.
It felt like the air was rattling your very skeleton.
“Let’s just get home,” you told yourself. Glancing at the wristwatch on your left wrist, you almost groaned at the late time. “It took a long time before the last guest left today,” you quietly whine. It took so long to close up because he was so drunkenly out of it, it was already almost three in the morning now. “I hope Taco isn’t too fussy.”
Taco, your black-furred cat. You had found him in the alleyway outside your home one morning after coming home from work a few years ago.
He was wrapped up and sitting inside a takeout bag from one of the local restaurants that served all sorts of foreign-styled foods. Tacos are a popular choice on the menu. The name was only appropriate once you took him in. He was fully black aside from the end of his nose that faded into a white patch before his nose. He was a sweet little thing, if not a little mischievous. But what cat isn’t?
You half-way hoped he hadn’t pulled out all the toys you had got him and had kept them in his overly expensive cat tree you had scrunched up the money for on the three-year anniversary of you finding him- or his birthday as you dubbed it. The last thing you wanted to do was step on some sort of fake, catnip mouse that he had found while you were working (you tend to hide the catnip toys when you weren’t home because he didn’t need to be all up on them the whole time you were gone).
You had never paid much attention to your walk home. Always lost in thought, daydreaming, or pondering on what you’re going to eat when you get home. Maybe what show to start watching or if you were going to pad up and battle Taco for a bath, you usually opted out of that last option. So, when you felt the chill that had been plaguing you since you stepped outside shoot through your spine you stumbled in your steps.
You crossed your arms over your chest, palms cupping your shoulders as you hunched forward like you just got shot. Something about how you felt made you feel so much terror, but you had no idea what was happening. Was someone following you? Were you being stalked or something and you just subconsciously picked up on it? It felt like someone’s eyes were on you, but that could just be your paranoia. But, what was there to be paranoid about? You never have been since you had always walked the late-night roads for many years now and nothing had happened before.
What was that saying? You swore you’ve seen some random posts online where people make stupid backgrounds in attempts to sound wise with it.
Just because something isn’t happening now, doesn’t mean it never will. It just means it hasn’t happened yet.
It was something cliché, like something a coffee shop would write on their chalkboard as a ‘boost of inspiration’ and a way to lure in gullible buyers for overpriced caffeine. But, now more than ever, you felt like that saying was stabbing you in the feet- urging you to move before something does happen.
It’s silent all around you in the middle of the night. Or maybe it was the fear coursing through you that made your hearing cut off. You couldn’t even hear the sounds of air conditioning units that would always hum as they stuck out the sides of apartments and establishments to fight the summer heat. There were no late-night cicadas or crickets chirping either. You couldn’t even hear the wind that you could feel brushing along your cheeks and ears.
It was dead. Silence.
You weren’t sure what possessed you to slowly stand back up from your hunched-over state and look over your shoulder. Maybe it was the looming presence behind you, or maybe it was the shadow you just now noticed towering and devouring your own in the late-night streelamps light. Twisting your head as far as you could, your chin lifted and looked up.
Hot, stomach-churning air blew into your face, ruffling your hair strands and creating another violent shiver throughout your body. Rather, it was no air- but a heavy, hot, disgusting breath.
Stood over you, looming over you like some monster out of a storybook was a grey-skinned, skin and bone looking- thing. A monster ripped straight out of a dark fairy tale with frothy bubbles of saliva coating its full array of sharp teeth you could easily see with its mouth hanging open and jaw unhinged. It was easily three times your size, or maybe that was your fear blowing its overall size out of proportion?
No, no- hold on?
This had to be a nightmare, right? Some sort of exhausted hallucination created from overworking? Whatever this thing in front of you was- it didn’t exist, right? It shouldn’t exist.
Your hearing came back in a powerful pulse as pain shot through your ears- it felt like your eardrums had ruptured. The terror must’ve finally kicked you into fight or flight your instincts as you gasped. Bending backward, you drew away from the jaw that unhinged even further and began to drop towards you, you pushed your palms against your ears and fell onto your ass in your panicked back-stepping.
You were sure that if you were in your right state of mind, the connection between your bum and the concrete would’ve pulled a pathetic whine and sore rub from you, but you could hardly feel the hit to the ground.
The monster in front of you snapped its jaw shut in a whoosh of air that hurled its gross breath in your direction. Smelling it again made you want to vomit. You could feel your throat burn with bile but swallowed it back down. Its neck began to twist, going around and around and around only to stop, and tick once in the opposite direction. Its entire thin, spindly neck was twisted like a piece of licorice as its wide, eyelid-less eyes stared up at the street lamps.
“Missssed,” it hissed. Its head ticked once more before it spun quicker than your eyes could keep up with back to its original position. With its neck no longer twisted, you heard its jaw snap like it became dislocated before the bottom of it dropped open. It hunched over onto all fours, legs and arms bent backward and as thin as sticks.
Its jaw clicked before it was lunging for your legs as you still sat in a stupor on the ground. With a small, short scream you brought your knees up to your chest, slamming them rather painfully into your breasts and nearly knocking yourself in your chin to avoid yet another rush of disgusting breath and the whoosh of its jaw snapping shut. Once again, missing you.
Without much thought, when its neck ticked you used your palms to support your upper body and picked your feet off the ground before slamming both your heels into the center of the monster’s face.
It felt like stomping in mud as it quickly cracked and dented under your feet. You didn’t think you were strong enough to even break someone’s nose, let alone indent their entire center face. You didn’t dwell on how fragile the monster felt or how you managed to do what you did; instead, as its chin hit the ground in a moment of recoil, you twisted your entire body and scrambled to your feet.
Hallucination or not, the terror you felt was real. And it was telling you to haul ass.
Your legs took you in the direction of the nearby river. There was a bridge overpass just above it and on either side was a slope to the river bank all covered in grass. You knew better than to lead whatever was chasing you further into the city. You could hear its overgrown limbs and hands crunching against the pavement, but you were too frightened to look to see how close it was coming to you.
Making it to the bridge, you step onto the grass ready to rush down the slope with the added force of gravity and science, but immediately fall short- literally. The early morning hours had already started to dew and the moment your rushed steps came into contact, your heel slipped and you were once again on your rump. Though, gravity and science still seemed to be effective as you felt a rush of something above your head before you were sliding down the grassy hill ungraciously to the bottom with a small bump that flung you forward onto your knees.
Groaning for what felt like a millisecond, you were scrambling back up to your feet after crawling about a foot on your hands and knees. You continued to hear that monster in your pursuit as you neared the underside of the thick, concrete bridge. But, what would you do after that?
Were you running to the bridge to escape or were you running to draw its attention away from going further into the city? If it was real would the river running beside you like it was racing your large strides be the last thing you ever see? You still couldn’t tell if this was a dream or not! The pain you felt in your rear both times you fell sure made it feel real.
“This isn’t happening,” you pant to yourself, your eyes stinging both from the summer wind rushing into your eyes and the dread that continued to stir in the pit of your stomach. Was this the end of the line? Your short life coming to an end by some drug-trip monster under a bridge like a troll, only remembered as that one staff member who worked as a local izakaya? “This isn’t happening!” You cry more to yourself than anything else.
Pathetic, you felt absolutely pathetic. You never thought you were once to cry and run in a horror movie, but the current situation granted you a vivid reality check.
The bridge drew nearer and you were soon diving under it, crawling up the small incline to the very underside of it. The concrete was warm as it pushed uncomfortably against the back of your head, pushing your chin close to your chest as you pulled your knees up as close as you could- making yourself into a makeshift ball as you tried to hide in the shadows. You slapped a hand over your mouth, the other dug into the ground you sat on to keep you from sliding back down. Grass strands cut into your fingers and dirt uncomfortably pushed up under your nails.
You saw it slowly stalk under the bridge’s shadow that was cast by the combined light of the moon overhead and the streetlamps. In the darkness you could see the outline of its body, still hunched and still as disfigured as before. Each heartbeat that pounded in your ears, and pulsed your blood so harshly through your body it caused you to tremble, convinced you this was very real.
It moved quickly.
First, it was at the bottom of the slope by the running river, next you felt it in front of you again, wrapping its spindly hand around your legs and yanking. Your shirt rode up your torso, your back scraping against the grass and leaving small stinging cuts and grass stains in its wake as your bra became exposed due to the rush. You jerked your captured legs, trying to desperately pull them free, but the grip the monster had on you felt like shackles.
Your escape felt hopeless with fruitless efforts like that. Still, you didn’t stop fighting it. You weren’t sure if you were foolish for struggling in a losing battle, or selfish because you didn’t want to die here, or maybe it was your body just running on adrenaline and the will to survive. Regardless, you kept at it. Yanking and thrashing and soon you felt tears trickling down your face as your eyes burned in the dirt, musty, under-bridge air.
“Get off me!” you crack, voice hoarse and you thought for a moment your demand was heeded because the monster suddenly stopped yanking on you. It had turned its head away from you, yet it still kept its iron grip around your legs. Should you take the chance and try and kick free again? What stopped it? Do you really care?
With one harsh yank, you freed one of your legs, your heel immediately coming back to kick at the monster again just like you had done earlier.
“I said off!” You aimed for its thin neck, heel cracking a drastic angel in its bone. The sound of the bone breaking and bending nearly ninety degrees would normally make you shudder, but not this time.
Before it could recover from your last-ditch assault, you could hear the sound of something else. Something rapid and getting closer. You couldn’t see much beyond your blurred vision from tears and fear, but you knew whatever it was you didn’t want to deal with anything else.
The rapid approach of whatever was coming at you arrived, followed by a slice of something in the air, and then moved past you on your opposite side. It had just run right past you and part of yourself felt hopeless. What if that wasn’t harmful? What if it was something helpful? Someone helpful? Did they just leave you fighting for your life? Was this really just a hallucination and you looked like some cracked-out junkie under a bridge at the witching hour?
You choked on a tearful gasp before the grip the monster had on you loosened and began to slip away from you entirely. Your breath hitched as you watched its body fall backward, rolling down the slope and splashing partially into the river. You shook as you looked to your side, seeing its head rolling down after its body.
It began to disintegrate like ash before you felt your tears choke you. The bile and vomit you swallowed down before burned twice as much and before you could stop it, you were rolling to your left puking your guts out into the grass. You hiccupped and gasped, your nose dripping disgustingly and tears flooding. You trembled violently and for just that moment you felt inconsolable.
You scream when you feel something press against your back.
Kicking up you begin scrambling away with your heels pushing into the ground and hands walking you backward. You stop short when you see the vague outline of what looks to be another person. They’re holding something in their hand as it extended out past their body, their hand hovering in the air.
Was it their hand you had just felt on your back?
“I-I’m,”
“It is alright,” the deep voice told you from the shadows. A man and his voice, although a bit loud, felt like a security blanket to your brain. “That demon cannot harm you anymore,” he promises.
“Is,” you swallow the subsiding emotions stuck in your throat. “Is it… dead?”
“Yes.”
“Did you? Like,” you look back down at the body, or what was left of it. Swallowing, you continue. “Did you kill it?”
“I did.”
“And you won’t hurt… me?”
“I would never raise my hand to another person. There is no need for humans to fight amongst each other for no reason.” He slowly stood, walking over to you and you could hear his shoes rustle against the grass with each approaching step. He stood beside you before bending and gently taking your arm in his hand. “Come, can you stand?”
You nod as you let him pull you up. Using his arm as leverage you ambled your way out from under the bridge and into the moon-mixed-with-florescent light before you looked at him properly.
“You have very unusual traits,” you mutter to yourself as he smiles down at you and blinks once. You had no idea why that was the first thing you blurt out. If he took offense to your statement, he didn’t show it, and truthfully you couldn’t process your words enough to stop yourself from judging.
A full mane of blonde hair that had red tips and similarly matching eyes. You wondered if he was wearing contacts or if he was born with eyes that unique. Somehow, the thick eyebrows he had suited him as he continued to smile at you. He wore pretty typical clothes, a white button-up with black pants and a single belt around his waist. Although, he also had a black harness that stretched over his shoulders and ran down his torso to wrap twice around his waist.
Looking in the proper light, you found that the object he had been holding in the shadows was actually a sword. He was sheathing it as you watched and you caught a glimpse of its bright red blade.
“Who?” You didn’t need to finish since your question was clear enough.
“I am a friend,” he told you. “We should get you home, where do you live? I’ll walk you.”
“I, um,” you looked around. Still confused about how far you’ve run. You managed to get even further from your house than you thought. “I think I can make it back on my own.”
A lie.
The last thing you wanted to do was be alone right now. You didn’t want to walk home alone, and you didn’t want to be alone outside either. You didn’t even want to be alone once you got home. But, the guilty responses in your brain still blurted out that you could handle it. That you were fine.
You absolutely were not fine.
“Nonsense! You are very clearly shaken up. It is my job to make sure people like yourself get some safely. Now- oh!” You had attempted to take a step, whether away or further towards him you weren’t sure, but regardless as you did your ankle screamed and your knee buckled before he was reaching under your elbows to keep you upright. “Are you injured?”
You feel like a wreck, and you’re sure you look like one too. Your back stung and you could feel the dew dried stiff on your skin and your damp clothes. Your ankle burns the moment you attempt to put pressure on it.
“I- I think I twisted my ankle on my way down here. I feel down the hill.” You felt as the man slowly lowers you to the ground before he was gently removing your shoe. You tried to stop him, feeling utterly embarrassed as he untied your shoe, plucked it off, and removed your sock. You didn’t enjoy the embarrassment, but you did welcome it among the roster of previous emotions you’ve felt tonight.
“Yes, you are right. Your ankle is already beginning to bruise. You’ve done quite the number on it.” He cupped behind your ankle, lifting and you hissed as your foot naturally extended further. “It’d be best not to walk on it.” He slips your sock back on- you didn’t have the heart to tell him it was uncomfortable now- and offered you your shoe. “Try not to put unnecessary pressure on it. If you will, please hold this.” You take your shoe inquisitively before he was pushing your legs apart.
“Wait- hold on!” He ignored you, that same smile on his face as he twisted and offered you his back once he knelt between your knees. He held his hands over his shoulders, closing and extending his fingers in a silent ‘give me’ motion.
“Come, I shall carry you back to your home. Just tell the way.”
You felt like if you tried to argue, it’d get you nowhere. The stubborn vibes you got from this man already felt like a lost fight. Besides, not standing on your foot felt like a blessing right now. You shuffle forward, reaching over his shoulders and offering your wrists to his hands. He grasps them, pulling your chest fully to his back before latching your hands around his neck.
“Hold on tightly,” he tells you, reaching behind to your thighs. You nod and soon he’s hoisting you off the ground and hiking you further up his back. “Right then! Now, which direction do you live?”
“Oh,” you tell him your address and landmarks that it’s close to and he nods, knowing the area. Easily, he begins taking the closest route to your house.
You felt exhausted.
You’d always heard that the backlash of adrenaline hits like a bullet train, but you have never experienced it before. Now you knew that it was no joke.
The fatigue you felt made you feel like lead and you could easily nod off against this stranger’s back with his warmth lulling you towards sleep. The small amount of mental power you had left kept you awake because the last thing you needed to do was fall asleep and cause more issues to the man who happened to be your savior of this very messed up night.
You did, however, remain silent as you basked in the summer air that finally felt normal again.
-x-x-x-
You must have zoned out because the next thing you felt was the stranger hiking your legs up again as his face was slightly turned to address you. When you look up, you were in front of your house. The trip from where you were to home shouldn’t have been that short- so zoning out was your only conclusion to the quick trip.
“Oh,” you mumble, legs extending in the smallest stretch to try and signal that you could be put down. You absentmindedly went to snag your keys but remembered they were in your purse that you dropped in the initial chase and you immediately felt somehow worse. “Um, listen, sir-”
“Are your house keys in here?” He suddenly cuts you off as one of his hands leaves your leg and holds up your purse. You blink at it. “This is yours, correct?” His voice was still a comforting source of grounding as he spoke gently to you.
“Y-yes, it is, but how did you-”
“I saw it on the way here and picked it up. If it did not belong to you, I was going to drop it off at the nearest police station. It’s a stroke of luck that it is indeed yours!” He cheers, explaining it as if it was a daily occurrence to find discarded purses laying in the middle of the street at three in the morning. You must have really been out of it if you didn’t even feel him bend down to pick it up at some point.
“Okay?” You semi-question, a bit too exhausted to care about the hows. “Here,” you lightly kick your legs again, another silent communication attempt to be let down. Instead, all he did was shift his one remaining hold on you and pushed you further up his spine yet again. “You can let me down, I think I can get inside on my own.”
“I cannot do that. I would feel much more comfortable if you allow me to walk you inside your home so that I know you are completely safe.” You swallow and feel your face burn. This random man was more of a gentleman to you than most men in general. Sure, maybe he was being polite out of pity and because you literally almost died, but it was still appreciated. If he were a doctor, his bedside manner would probably be in a class of its own.
You don’t argue with him, only ask him to bring your purse closer so you could dig through it and grab your keys. You wouldn’t mind if he did it in your stead, but the small section of your brain that was still working told you if he dug in there and pulled out a tampon or accidentally pressed on your pepper spray you’d pass away from the embarrassment in place of the monster from before.
You pull out your key ring and he takes it from you gently as you tell him which key to place into the lock. Easing the door open, he steps in sideways as he pushes the door further open and gets you inside. The door clicked behind you and normally having a strange man in your house would fill you with anxiety, but something in your said that even under normal circumstances, you would still trust him.
He flicks on the light in the living room and turns so the back of his knees almost touch the cushions of your couch before he’s kneeling and setting you down on it. the back of your thighs push against the comfort of your furniture and your arms unhook from around his shoulders as you almost immediately slump backward and let your head fall back. You’ve never been so glad to see your ugly, semi-scraped-off popcorn ceiling in your life.
From somewhere in the house, you heard Taco cry and soon he was jumping up onto the couch from the arm, stretching towards you before crawling over to your leg and rubbing on it. You smiled, scratching at your needy cat more than happy to see him.
Somewhere along your small trip from the door to the living room, you dropped the one shoe you held and your head snapped up and looked down when you felt pressure around your other foot that still had its shoe on.
That strange man- who you thought would already be on his way out since his job of escorting you was finally finished- was working on removing that one remaining shoe of yours without even stopping to ask or even think about it.
You were fatigued, delirious, and felt like you could sleep for the next week if you tried to, yet his actions still made you jolt with a small burst of embarrassing energy.
“Um,” you start as he just hums, not even glancing up at you. He kept that smile on his lips though you noticed. “You don’t need to do that.”
“It is no trouble,” he tells you simply.
“It’s embarrassing,” you blurt and that makes him look up at you.
“Is it?”
“Yes, it is.” His hands stay resting on your shoe, one behind your heel and the other resting above your toes. “You’ve already done enough for me,” you tell him with the most expressive smile you can conjure up. “It’s so late, so you should be getting back to your home. Don’t let me trouble you anymore.” You didn’t want to chase him out, in fact, on normal circumstances, you’d just invite him to stay over since it was such an ungodly hour.
You figured he’d just argue with you and be on his way if you offered the stay though. Taco jumps from your side, clearly done with rubbing on your leg, and instead goes to sniff around the stranger knelt in front of you. He offers small, under chin scratches to your beloved black cat before returning his attention to you.
“It is no trouble,” he repeats. He lowers his head again and goes back to removing your shoe successfully and setting it aside making a mental note to pair it with the second one before he leaves. “It is my duty to make sure you are safe and comfortable.”
“I don’t know what you mean but duty,” you start and are interrupted with a yawn, “but I’m in my home. It can get any safer than here. Please, I’m okay now.” That was partially a lie. The chill that ran up your spine was still threatening to return the moment you were alone. You’d probably sleep with the lights on tonight.
“But, your ankle is-”
‘It’s fine,” you reassure. “I have braces in my bathroom for sprains like this.” You see him contemplate before he’s bracing his palms on his knees and heaving himself up. He stands in front of you and somehow his height is almost overwhelming as you sit on the couch.
“If you insist, then I shall take my leave. Please make sure to get that ankle checked out by a doctor.” He reaches into the breast pocket of his button-up and pulls out a pen before he clicks it. He notices the small notepad on your coffee table and motions to it. “May I?” You nod as he takes it and begins scribbling. “Normal doctors might be complicated if you don’t want to go through the trouble of explaining how you got injured. So, if you’re comfortable with it, I’ll refer you to an acquaintance of mine. She is very well versed in medicine and health and is aware of the existence of demons, just like I am.”
“Demons?”
“That is correct. The creature that attacked you is such a being.”
“Oh.” You were attacked by a demon? Well, considering the circumstances- calling it a monster all this time wouldn’t be that much of a difference. He clicks his pen again, replacing it in his breast pocket and setting the notepad on the table once again. You could see from your place on your couch that his penmanship was neat and legible.
“If you’d like, give her a call tomorrow. Pass the message along that Rengoku referred you to her and the rest will be easy.” He looks you over once more. “Are you very sure you’ll be alright for the rest of the night?” He acted like some longtime caregiver, not someone you met an hour ago.
“I’ll be just fine. I’m home now, thanks to you.” You weren’t sure how to express your gratitude, but your words kept him smiling and his eyes closed. It seemed as though he finally understood that you would be just fine now.
“Alright then,” he says. “I shall take my leave. Make sure to call tomorrow.” He finalized once more before you were giving him a brief goodbye and he was leaving your house.
In the newfound silence, you sigh and fall to your side on the couch. You didn’t want to move and although you knew you’d wake up sore, you closed your eyes. You’d wake up sore anyways after the night you’ve had. All you wanted to do now was sleep.
Of course, Taco was quick to join you in the most inconvenient way by laying right on top of you.