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The deep blue stood as ever over the two women partaking in dinner on the Otherside. Store-bought onigiri and sandwiches were simple enough to take over to the uncanny world, and they often swallowed it all down with low-alcohol beer. At that point, their experience with that land was such that they could already laugh and let their cheeks start showing hints of pink from the alcohol.
That particular time, however, Toriko had brought food from a new Brazilian food store that had opened near the university. One was called brigadeiro, and the other was something like… ordinary pan? Sorawo could not be bothered to remember it. It was delicious, but the dessert was too sweet. And so was the carbonated drink from that same store.
“Toriko, choose one: this drink or this sweet. I'm pretty sure nothing good will come of it if I eat both,” Sorawo insisted.
“It's fine, it'll be fine! But if you insist, I'll dig in!” Toriko swiped the plate from Sorawo’s hand.
The contrast between her words and how readily she jumped on the food did not phase Sorawo even a bit. That girl was a glutton, right up until she had to beg Sorawo to finish it in Toriko’s place. Some of those truffles would likely end up going back to her plate by the end of the day. Which should be soon: it was still too risky to stay during nighttime.
“Western food is scary…” Sorawo took a sip of that soda – it would be better to cut back on the beer by then.
“This is too sweet even for me.” Her fingers grabbed a truffle and threw it into her mouth.
“And yet.”
“But I like it!”
Sorawo got engrossed observing Toriko’s fingers. Delicate, yet they could hold a gun with such expertise, and right then the fingertips were just slightly covered in chocolate. A primal urge to lick it rose up to her mind. Damnit, she should have kept a few for herself, after all.
“And I think you would like some stuff from them too.”
“Like?”
“Their carnivals.”
“What? Why?”
A bunch of people getting together to sing and dance on the streets? And Toriko thought she would enjoy it? Maybe they ought to head back, an entity must have been getting to her.
“I mean, remember how happily you danced naked–”
“That wasn't me!”
Toriko laughed as Sorawo cleaned up spat-out soda with napkins. If anything, it should be Toriko dancing at such an event. Sorawo was a weird geeky girl, there was no sex appeal at all. But Toriko’s beauty was unrivalled, and Sorawo was pretty sure her body could put any other woman's figure to shame. Just picturing it– no, no matter how much she tried, Sorawo could not. She knew absolutely nothing about these carnivals nor what they wore.
“We should start packing up,” Toriko noted, though her hand moved to pick up another truffle.
When they returned, they still bar hopped before returning home. Though Sorawo expected to fall asleep at once, her eyes refused to stay closed and her leg twitched, restless in bed.
“That drink was an energy drink, wasn't it?”
The unmistakable buzz every university student had felt at least once the day before the delivery of a big project kept each inch of her body awake and ready.
“Might as well use this…”
She got up and turned on her laptop. Come to think of it, one of her classes had mentioned urban legends from other countries and how they compare to the Japanese ones. She could get Toriko’s help with legends from the United States and the like, but broadening her search could be helpful.
Sorawo searched for Brazilian urban legends. Most results were in Portuguese, but by using and engine to translate it she could at least grasp what they were about.
As she read through the semantically-dubious machine-translated passages, she nodded along and wrote down notes. Hanako-san seems to be international, operating under different names. Clowns are also quite famous for these stories in Western countries. Especially for the United States, it seemed like there was some substance to them. Sorawo took a mental note to ask Toriko about this one later.
Sorawo scrolled and scrolled, though, through the choppy sentences and the effect of the energy drink leaving her body, any motivation to keep going steadily slipped from her grasp.
… But, just before she could turn it off, she had to take a peek into what that Carnival was all about…
“Uagh!”
Sorawo closed the lid of the laptop with a bang. Imagining Toriko wearing anything like that – the image was too strong. It could seriously kill someone. She crawled back to bed before it could keep her up any longer.
The following day, Sorawo had survived University quite well for someone that had been plagued by mental images of Toriko that were sure to turn any person mad. Her eye truly could not compare. That is why, it took a second for her to realise the ugly doll Akari was holding was familiar, after all.
“I know the doll’s ugly! But is it just ugly? Are you sure it’s nothing to worry about?”
At some point between classes, Akari had found her and dragged her to an isolated table to ask for help with something. She offered to share her food – what a good diplomat, Sorawo could not refuse it.
She eyed the doll Akari was holding, paying attention to it this time. The ugly, big cheeks that made you wonder how a kid could ever love it. The clothes from at least twenty years ago…
“Where did you say you got it again?”
“I just said it, a friend gave it to me as a souvenir after a trip to South America.”
“And what’s that friend’s name?”
“It’s… Huh, why can’t I remember…?”
Sorawo took a look at it with her right eye. There was nothing amiss, but it was just too much of a coincidence.
“I need to confirm it. Can I take it for a few days?”
“You’ll really take this off my hands?! Thanks, Kamikoshi-senpai!”
No, it’s probably not permanent – before she could say that, Akari took off. She had mentioned having a class right after, Sorawo vaguely remembered.
She stared at the doll. Without a doubt, it was the haunted item she had read about the previous day. Big Cutie, that was the name. Maybe, just as she had the idea to branch out, the Otherside did so too, to collect more information. Legends from different places would most likely elicit different responses… Not that any theorising would matter as long as she could not determine if it really was from the Otherside. She already planned to meet up with Toriko later that day, so she just sent her a message to change the meeting place to a more remote area. In the worst case scenario, they could use their guns.
Classes came to an end swiftly. Toriko was staring at the doll Sorawo had brought, both of them standing at one of the abandoned buildings Sorawo had found over the years. She had an almost endearing look on her face.
“It is cute.”
“Where?” Sorawo had to ask.
“You know, like those dogs that are so ugly they’re cute… Like a Chinese Crested!”
Sorawo had never heard of it. No matter, as her priority was getting Toriko up to speed before the doll decided to try anything funny.
“I see.” Toriko nodded to the explanation, holding the doll up to her eye and inspecting it. “Well, maybe we need to pretend to sleep? Many of these dolls are night killers.”
“No, that wasn’t it in this case. That’s what caught my attention. The doll did nothing, it was just the trigger.”
“So what happens?”
“The kid would rip out the head, and it would become a dagger. Then they would black out and wake up to their family’s mutilated bodies. It said something about kids being compelled to do so, but kids just naturally break stuff. As for the dagger– Toriko?”
Toriko stood there staring at the severed head of the doll in her hands, from which a blade protruded. It breaks too easily , Sorawo would have said, but Toriko’s eyes were as if glazed over. Sorawo was on high alert and made a motion to reach for her gun. “Toriko?” she called again.
She looked up from the doll. Her grip was firm on the head, placed in her right hand, whilst the body slipped from her left hand. Looking at the scene briefly with her right eye, Sorawo spotted that the dagger was glowing. Sorawo stepped away from her gun – maybe Toriko would have been able to make that shot, but certainly not her.
Toriko rushed towards Sorawo with the dagger in her right hand, aiming for her chest. Sorawo scurried to the right and grabbed Toriko’s extended arm with both hands. Though she tried to hold it in a vice grip, Toriko’s arm struggled vigorously in her grasp. She was stronger than her. The edge of the blade every so often glinted too close for comfort to her own skin. If it continued like that, Sorawo would be lucky to get out with just a few scratches.
“Toriko? Hey, Toriko?” she tried again. Should she slap her? Toriko did do that to wake Sorawo up when she was possessed. Though it would be a tooth for a tooth, it was too risky. She would have come too close to her to dodge the dagger should it not work.
Wait, she was holding it with just one arm. Sorawo glanced at the other, which laid limp at Toriko’s side. Her head and legs, too, did not seem as if they were completely following the actions of the arm. Perhaps it was not exactly a possession, as in an entity taking over her mind, but a numbing of Toriko’s senses, and the creature’s control radiated from the arm it was held in.
“... frente… para o lado…” unknown words started slipping from Toriko’s lips.
And, if Sorawo was right, it should be slowly spreading out. No time to lose. She scanned the floor of the decrepit room looking for holes and uneven ground. Holding tight to Toriko’s wrists, she walked back towards a promising area, the two moving together as in a mock of a waltz.
Toriko followed along, mumbling some chant. “Na batida do cavaco–” Her heel caught on a hole, and she tumbled backwards. Sorawo hurried to grab her left hand and take off her glove. She took hold of this wrist as well, and manoeuvred it to reach for the base of the dagger. Cradling Toriko’s hand in her own, she lifted the glowing veil with her hand.
Rid of the veil, the dagger turned into a blunt plastic head support and the arm it was dragging along fell limp. Sorawo held Toriko and broke her fall. Toriko’s eyes cleared up gradually, and the doll’s head dropped from her head, rolling away from the two.
“You wanted to hold hands?” Toriko smiled and interlaced their fingers.
“Don't joke right now…”
“Aww, but this one was simple, wasn't it.” She gave a peck to Sorawo's forehead.
“You blacked out, of course it was easy for you.” Those words barely had a bite when pink rose to her cheeks.
“The support does look like a dagger, no wonder people were scared.” Toriko kneeled down and reached over to grab the decapitated doll head, twirling it in her hands.
Sorawo stood back up and grabbed the bag that she had left in a corner of the room. She also picked up the discarded body of the doll.
“It should be safe if we don't join the head and the body.” Sorawo concluded. “We still have time to go back to our original plan…”
“Then let’s go!”
Toriko picked up her bag and skipped over to the partially-torn door out of that decrepit room. She grabbed the handle and turned, but years of accumulated rust on the hinge finally caught up to it. It fell down and crashed against the tile-covered ground with a loud bang. Sorawo and Toriko’s eyes were drawn to the old wooden door, and when they raised their gaze once again, grass and wheat swayed with the gentle wind, as well as the leaves of coffee and sugarcane plants. The women were looking outside from inside an old, rural house, and the door laid on earthy ground. Over them, a deep blue stood unchanging.
Without having to exchange a single word, they assumed their positions. Toriko took her gun in hand and moved ahead, whilst Sorawo looked for glitches as they headed out.
“Did you read anything else? Something that happened on a farm, maybe.”
“There were quite a few. But–”
Toriko stopped suddenly. Sorawo raised her head and looked at Toriko to then follow her gaze. There was a dead goat on the ground, his eyes covered by unknown appendages, whilst dried blood made a trail down his neck. The origin of the blood was two punctures.
“Poor thing,” Toriko said.
“That settles it. Must be the chupacabra, it’s quite famous. And we’re in luck, it shouldn’t attack humans.”
“Oh, I know that one!” Toriko smiled. “So we just need to find an exit.”
“Probably.”
Toriko stashed away her gun and took Sorawo’s hand in her own.
“Stay alert,” Sorawo warned, though she did not attempt to break free. She is probably the one most unlikely to keep her guard up if they held hands like this, though…
They followed through the quiet farm. Though the rustling of leaves reached their ears, no other sound besides their own footsteps did. The chirping of birds, or the stridulation of insects, none of those bucolic sounds were present. Close to its real world counterpart, and, yet, way too different in little details that most stand out: this small gap was more eerie than if they were walking amongst incomprehensible shapes and figures.
A loud, whine-like sound broke through the soundscape. It gurgled and came out muffled, but it still tugged on Toriko’s heartstrings. They looked between each other for a long while before deciding to follow it with care.
The bizarre whine sounded out again and, this time, they could see its owner. Red-eyed, a four-legged creature struggled in place, blood running down its mouth. Patches of spikes, which glowed under Sorawo’s gaze, covered some of its skin, though the creature did not emit that same shine. There was a leash around its neck, the cord pulled taut, as its end was stuck right inside a glitch, slowly pulling the creature in.
“It’s stuck. Let’s keep going.”
“Sorawo.”
It was a trap. It ought to be. But Toriko looked at her with a pout, her puppy-like eyes aiming an arrow directly at Sorawo’s heart. She was so unfair.
“First we cut the lead. If it seems safe, we’ll switch places. For now, you stay back with your gun ready.”
“Alright.” Toriko reached for her bag and started searching through its contents. “Here we go.” She took out a folding knife and threw it to Sorawo. She then took a few steps back and took up her gun once again, holding it with both hands and pointing at the ground, ready for any further developments.
Sorawo approached the animal with measured steps. When it did not react to her, she headed towards the leash. She grabbed it with one hand and tried to cut it with the other, however, she could not manage even a chip in.
“Give me the doll head,” Sorawo yelled over.
Toriko reached for it in her bag and threw it over. Sorawo just barely managed to catch it in her hands. Though by then it had gone back to being a dull head support, maybe it would still work. A swift motion made quick work of the leash, but the doll head got caught up by the whipping lead and ended sucked up into the glitch. The animal ran out, in circles, before slowing and plopping down, a few metres away from Sorawo.
Toriko ran over, gun in hands. The beast changed position, but otherwise did not react to her approach. She stored her gun back in place and, under Sorawo’s gaze, started pulling the needles out of the animal. There was no visible physical pain during the process and, rather, it just appeared to become more relaxed with the treatment; those were more likely to be messing with its perception than hurting it.
As fewer spikes covered its body, the form of the animal became clearer. His eyes were black; the red seen before was likely due to the reflection of light. Its body was brown and speckled white. Fur grew only on its extremities: his tail, his paws, and the top of his ears and head.
“A Chinese Crested,” Toriko noted, taking out the last spike.
The dog rolled over and stood up, shaking his whole body as if he had just taken a calming bath.
“Is that right?” Sorawo looked over. “It really is ugly–”
The dog pounced on her and started trying to lick her face.
“So ugly it’s cute, right?”
“Get it off me–”
Toriko was too busy laughing and burning Sorawo’s flustered image into her memory to help her. At last, he jumped off of her, rubbed his face against Toriko’s legs, then skipped over a few centimetres before looking over his shoulder.
“I think he wants us to follow.”
Before Sorawo could even get her glasses on right, Toriko held her hand and tugged her along. As they followed him, they adventured deeper and deeper into tall wheat and sugarcane before they found a door propped up by the stalks, half a metre above the ground. That door had a small dog door. The Chinese Crested jumped up at one of the stalks holding the door in vain.
“Must've been quite the fall.” Toriko kneeled down to pet the dogs’ head before holding him up to the dog entrance. “There you go.”
The Chinese Crested pushed open the dog door and slipped inside.
Toriko turned back, a playful smile on her face.
“Our turn now.”
Sorawo was unaware of the mischievous glint on Toriko’s eyes and walked up to her whilst deep in thought. How long did that dog stay there? Did it bite that goat because it was hungry or did it do it because the spikes affected its cognitive function? Maybe it was the other way around: it bit the goat, got disturbed, then the spikes appeared. But that old lady seemed fine eating the creatures from that side. Yet, it is possible that because it was in a field with goats, it was led to become a vessel of–
“T-Toriko!” Sorawo complained as she was lifted up in the air.
“O-open the door!” Toriko asked, trying to hide her strained voice.
Sorawo blushed. That girl, trying to show off and forgetting her own limits… How did she make even that seem attractive. Sorawo reached for the handle and opened the door. Ahead, there was a room stinking of mould, dirty wallpapers from three decades ago fading away, the furniture similarly ripped off and covered in stains. The dog stood a few centimetres away, tail wagging.
With a huff, Sorawo climbed onto the room, and the dog made a show of pulling on her sleeve. She turned back and extended her hand to Toriko, who grabbed it at once. As Sorawo was pulling her up, the dog once again tried to “help”. What a weird mutt. It already got what it needed from those two, so why was it sticking around? Sorawo could never understand those animals; cats were more logical.
They closed the door behind themselves.
“Not quite what we'd planned, but that went well!” Toriko celebrated.
“First things first,” Sorawo started before Toriko could propose going out to drink, “we need to take the dog to get checked in the DS Lab.”
“Yeah, that's the safest route.” Toriko kneeled down next to him. “The contact information on the collar is too blurry… It's too late to get to the Lab, though.”
They did, still, have classes the following day.
“I can't keep any pets,” Sorawo said.
“Neither can I…”
And that was how, a dozen minutes later, they were knocking on Kozakura’s door.
Kozakura opened the door with a raised eyebrow. It lowered ever so slightly when she spotted the Chinese Crested.
“A dog? You guys got a dog? I've got too much fragile stuff, leave him outside.”
“It's chupacabra.” Toriko said with a smile.
“What?”
“Can you keep him just until Friday?” Sorawo asked.
“Definitely no–”
“And also this,” Toriko took out the body of the decapitated doll.
“ Absolutely not this one!”
“Then can you at least keep the dog? And we'll keep the doll until we can go to the lab.” Toriko suggested.
“Does this look like a rescue centre? Neither. ”
“And right when we got you cake…” Toriko lamented.
“Don't try this– hey, your dog's slipped inside!”
“Oops,” Sorawo said, deadpan.
With their foot-in-the-face tactics, Kozakura eventually gave up. Though both Sorawo and Toriko were excited at the prospect of learning of even more diverse urban legends, Kozakura was already disturbed imagining what this would entail to her.