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The night was windy, dry, and hot. A night with nothing to distinguish it. Just like all the others. Dry. The wind carried dust and already-withered leaves, just like the weather.
In the monotony of the night, the heat intensified. The kind of heat that dries out your mouth as if you had sand on your tongue and makes your skin itch.
But in the end, it was just another night. The same as all the ones before. The same as all the other nights Keiji had witnessed since he was born in that forgotten little town nestled between the mountains and the arid climate.
Well, it was supposed to be a city, but the only thing city-like about it was the name. The place was tiny; a handful of inhabitants, a few houses, and a bunch of factories.
A desert-like place, cut off from the rest of the world by high cliffs and mountain ranges. A place where monotony was inhaled and dust exhaled.
There wasn’t much to do, really. Entertainment was scarce and, ironically, rarely entertaining.
For young people like Keiji, their options for something that would pull them out of the mundanity of that sterile life were even more limited.
The young people Keiji’s age were divided into two groups: those who got married and those who got drunk. Because those seemed to be the only options available, the only things that sparked even the slightest excitement in that life of earth tones and dry people; marrying someone you didn’t even like that much but had grown used to, or spending nights drinking at the town’s (sorry, the city’s) only club until you were drunk enough for everything around you to become funny and bearable.
Neither option particularly appealed to Keiji.
Dancing, however, he liked more.
That’s why he religiously snuck out of his house every Friday night to go dancing at the city’s only club.
It was his only entertainment. The only thing that made him feel somewhat alive, or at least a little less numb than he usually was. The boy lived in a state of deep lethargy all the time, as if part of him were on pause, or in some comatose state that kept him from reacting fully. And that feeling, that state of semi-consciousness, only faded when he danced.
Keiji was handsome. He knew it.
People told him often, and he could see it for himself when he passed a mirror. He had eyes, after all, and could see the obvious.
He had no shortage of suitors, but he found no one in that town even remotely interesting enough to consider marriage. Though his mother insisted on the topic.
What was the rush?
He was young, handsome, freshly graduated with the best grades in his class. He aspired to much more than getting married and being trapped forever in that boring town, full of boring people and that damn dry, boring weather. Dry, like the people who lived there.
Dry climate. Dry people.
He didn’t want to be trapped there, living a dry life.
But he also wasn’t entirely sure how to escape.
And he used the term escape because he truly felt trapped there, in that town that was slowly sucking the life out of him, intent on turning him into one more of those dry, boring people who settled for a monotonous, earth-toned life.
That was his greatest fear.
Dancing was the only thing that made all that drudgery bearable.
He slipped out through his bedroom window with a well-practiced routine, the movements precise and rehearsed, the result of someone who had done the same thing countless times.
If his parents ever caught him like that, dressed in his best jeans and that shirt with the top buttons undone, surrounded by the aura of his cologne, they would probably look at him with eyes full of disappointment. That sad, pained look, as if Keiji had done something with the sole intention of hurting them.
Keiji kept his outings a secret not because he feared disappointing his parents. Over the years, he had learned that no matter how much he did or didn’t do, that look of deep betrayal and disappointment would never go away, nothing would ever be enough to make them proud of him. But Keiji lived so tired, with so little energy, that he didn’t want to waste what little will to exist he had on bowing his head to his parents and their eternally disappointed eyes.
A look wouldn’t kill him.
But he didn’t think he could survive all of it, the monotony, the heaviness of living the same events over and over every day, the suffocating routine, or the heat that made his skin itch so badly he sometimes wanted to tear it off.
He needed this. One night out. Just that, and he could endure more of those dry, arid days.
He arrived alone at the club downtown, the only one in the entire city, but he always ran into some former classmate or familiar face because, after all, in such a small town, everyone knew everyone.
Small town, big hell.
He’d have one or two drinks, just as a lubricant for his muscles and to loosen up his body.
Alcohol wasn’t what interested him, it was dancing. Dancing until his anxiety poured out as sweat down his back. Dancing until he forgot he was in the middle of a mundane desert town, so far north that the mountains hid it and the sun seemed intent on burning it down to the last sad, dry branch.
Sometimes he danced with other people, but only briefly, while the effect of his second beer lasted. During that time, people even sounded interesting. But then the effect would fade, and they’d go back to being the same boring people who only talked about gossip, the weather, the factories, and weddings of people he didn’t care about. And the charm would end.
That’s why Keiji preferred dancing alone most of the time. Without anyone bothering him. Just him and the music that made him feel a little more alive.
That night seemed like it would be just like any other Friday night. Keiji would have one or two beers, turn down several invitations from guys and girls interested in him, and keep dancing until well into the early hours, when the club was about to close and his feet ached.
There was nothing different, nothing to indicate that something was coming to disrupt Keiji’s usual routine.
Then he arrived.
The first thing that caught Keiji’s attention about him wasn’t his attractive face or the murmurs forming around him, it was that Keiji didn’t recognize him. And that was weird because, again, everyone in that town knew each other.
But Keiji had no idea who this two-toned-haired guy with deep eyes was as he walked into the club. And that already made him far more interesting than everyone else there.
The club’s lighting was dim, mostly coming from those strobe lights oscillating between neon blue and red, and yet Keiji could see the stranger’s eyes clearly.
They were strange, in the best way. And sharp. That man had a gaze that could be felt from meters away, and Keiji knew because he could feel it on the back of his neck as he danced.
Still, he held back his curiosity and kept dancing. He was probably just one of those guys passing through, someone visiting extended family in that town who had decided that going out to dance in that tiny, packed club was better than staying home listening to old country folks’ stories.
"Can I dance with you?" Keiji heard from behind him with unexpected clarity.
The voice was deep and gravelly but oddly soft. It rose above the club’s music with surprising ease.
Keiji turned to look at him, intending to respond with a firm and resounding "no," like he did with all the guys who tried to charm him into dancing, but the monosyllable got stuck in his throat before he could say it.
Under the club’s artificial lighting, the stranger’s eyes gleamed gold. His smile, wide and full of glossy white teeth, was the most attractive thing Keiji had seen in his nineteen years of life.
With his half-unbuttoned white shirt, his hair styled in a peculiar way that only accentuated his features, and a well-built body, there was no doubt that the guy was charming. But Keiji wouldn’t say it out loud because he refused to inflate some stranger’s ego when he was just passing through.
Keiji looked the handsome stranger up and down, as if analyzing a grocery list, trying to hide his curiosity about him.
"I doubt you can keep up with my rhythm."
Far from being offended or making some snide remark like the dozens of other guys Keiji had rejected, the stranger smiled.
"I doubt it too." Beneath his lips, his canines peeked out, white and slightly pointed. "In fact, I doubt anyone here could. But I’d still like to try."
"Why?" the black-haired boy asked without thinking.
"Because you’re by far the most striking person in this godforsaken place, and it’s obvious you’re deeply bored."
Keiji raised an eyebrow, letting a hint of a smile slip onto his lips.
"And you think you can entertain me?"
The stranger stepped closer to Keiji. Not toward his mouth or his waist like others had tried before, but toward his ear. And the black-haired boy didn’t feel that instinctive urge to pull back. If anything, it was the opposite. When the taller man’s soft breath brushed his ear as he spoke, the magnetism was instant.
"No, I don’t think so." His voice overpowered the music. "I’m sure of it."
He pulled back, but not before extending his hand toward Keiji. A silent invitation, accompanied by a faint smile and a furrowed-brow look that made his eyes even more hypnotic.
"I don’t dance with strangers," Keiji said, and yet, he took the man’s hand.
"Then get to know me first." The man tugged Keiji’s arm, a quick movement that wasn’t quite rough, just enough to pull him closer and guide their bodies back to the liveliest part of the dance floor. "I’m Koutarou. There, now I’m not a stranger."
The black-haired boy laughed, genuinely amused by the absurdity of Koutarou’s behavior (if that was even his real name) and decided that at least he was making an effort to stay interesting, so he could grant him a dance.
"Just one thing," the newly introduced man said. "Don’t look at my feet. I’ll try my best to follow your steps, but if you look at my feet, I might get nervous and end up stepping on you. And it’d be a shame to hurt a beauty like you."
"Are you trying to flatter me?"
"I’m trying to make your night interesting."
The black-haired boy smiled. Well, at least the night would be different for once. And he’d see if this outsider had any interesting moves worth copying.
Clearly, Keiji hadn’t expected the man to move with such ease on the dance floor, much less to be able to lead him or match his rhythm—but Koutarou did.
Song after song, Koutarou spun Keiji around until he was pleasantly dizzy, his forehead sweaty from exertion and his heart pounding fast with the excitement of each familiar melody.
That man had a bright, powerful aura. Keiji could feel people’s eyes on them—envious or amazed by the little spectacle they were unintentionally putting on in the middle of the dance floor. They moved in sync, at a formidable speed and rhythm, almost as if they’d been dancing together for years.
"People are staring at us," Keiji said as one song ended, his breathing slightly accelerated from the physical activity, a smile of pure satisfaction on his face.
"Of course they are." Koutarou placed his hands on the black-haired boy’s waist, spinning him so his back was against his chest, speaking directly into his ear. "We’re impressive."
Keiji laughed. "You speak with too much pride."
"And is that a bad thing?" He spun Keiji again, now face-to-face, one hand on the boy’s waist, the other holding his hand. "Pride is one of humanity’s greatest attributes."
"A lot of people here would disagree with you," Keiji replied, ready to keep dancing as a new song started. "They’d say it’s a sin or something like that."
The man’s smile widened, this time mocking without bothering to hide it.
"What would life be without sins?" he mused aloud. "A boring, bland, flat piece of shit. Sinning is just a crude way of calling it ‘enjoying life.’" With a hand on Keiji’s lower back, he pulled him even closer, chest to chest, inches apart. "Luckily for you, darling, I don’t belong here."
A blush spread across Keiji’s face as he saw those golden eyes up close. His heart pounded wildly in his chest, racing a mile a minute.
"And neither do you," the man continued, never stopping their dance.
Around them, the music and the rest of the people seemed to blur into a smudged stain. Just clumsy strokes, like a hastily drawn sketch.
Keiji’s legs felt strangely light, as if he were dancing on air, with the constant sensation that he could fall at any moment because of how little control he had over his overly agile limbs, but Koutarou was there, holding him before he even had time to think about stumbling.
It was impossible to think about stumbling, or anything else, because Koutarou was occupying every inch of his thoughts.
All of him. All. And Keiji’s mind felt light, yet at the same time, so full of him.
His deep voice. His golden eyes. His two-toned hair. His scent...
His scent.
Something in the air smelled really bad.
A sudden odor, one Keiji hadn’t noticed before, but that now filled his nose the moment he caught it.
Something burning. Maybe something rotting nearby.
He looked around as he spun and moved on the dance floor, trying to find the source of the unpleasant smell.
It wasn’t alcohol, or that typical drunk stench of the club when the night peaked. It was something else.
It smelled like sulfur.
A strange sensation began to crawl through Keiji’s body.
Heat.
Keiji was more than used to heat. He’d grown up in a place where the sun was cruel and the winds arid. He hated it, but he’d developed a surprising tolerance for that annoying climate.
But this time, it was different. It wasn’t the stifling heat of bodies packed in the club. It wasn’t the dry heat of the intense sun and arid air.
This was different. His legs burned to the point of pain, but he didn’t feel capable of stopping the dance.
Around him, the haze seemed to swallow the people and the surroundings. Everything moved too fast for his eyes to understand what he was seeing, but he couldn’t stop his body even if he wanted to, and his legs truly felt like they were burning.
Panic sent an alarm to his head, and his mind struggled to react, to find some way to lessen the pain and the increasingly insidious feeling of absolute confusion.
He looked down.
A scream, just one, but no less gut-wrenching, drew the attention of everyone in the club.
Keiji hadn’t even realized the moment he screamed. The shriek tore from the depths of his chest, ripping through his throat and straining his vocal cords to the max the second he looked down and saw the feet of the man he was dancing with.
Owl legs.
Long and rough, covered in thick feathers and ending in sharp talons. The legs connected to the man’s torso in an unnatural, monstrous way. It was a creature that shouldn’t exist, the vision of something illogical, yet there it was, right in front of Keiji, holding him close as they danced without stopping, the boy screaming while the creature laughed.
The screams didn’t stop. Chaos and collective hysteria broke out among the crowd. People rushed to find exits or shelter, and a burst of flames erupted from the center of the dance floor, encircling Keiji and his partner.
"Oh, darling, I told you not to look at my feet."
That man, or rather, that creature, spoke in a guttural voice, a sound that seemed to rise from the depths of a cavern, yet carried a trace of feigned regret, poorly concealed mockery laced with a smile. "It’s a shame to hurt a beauty like you."
Keiji tried to wrench himself free and run like everyone else, who were fleeing in terror from the spreading flames, but the man yanked him back hard, Keiji’s body slamming against his.
It was like hitting a concrete wall, the same pain, the same dazed aftermath. The fire around them kept growing, consuming everything in its path.
Amidst screams and heart-wrenching sobs, people scrambled for any way out. They crowded the exits, shoving each other without mercy, pure chaos, the air thick with smoke that burned their throats with every breath.
Hell on earth.
Small town, big hell.
"Let me go, now!" Keiji struggled against the man, who was looking less and less like a man by the second.
Taller. Broader.
Two sharp, horn-like spikes protruded from his head. Round, dark pupils, completely encircled by an intense yellow, no trace of white. Eyes that were not human.
"Oh, but you don’t want to be here." He gripped Keiji’s wrists tightly. The sound of fire and screams was nothing compared to his voice. "You hate this place."
A deep terror seized Keiji’s chest.
"You know I’m telling the truth." The creature continued speaking. "You despise this town and everything in it."
Keiji’s breathing grew ragged, each inhale was harder, choked with smoke. The screams around him and the stench of burning clawed at his mind, and he couldn’t deny the creature’s words because they were true.
"You loathe this place. You hate every second you spend here. At night, you dream of this cursed town disappearing, or of you disappearing." There was something deeply unsettling in the monstrous being’s words, and it wasn’t just what he said, but how he said it. Despite that gravelly, animalistic tone, Keiji could still detect a strange tenderness. "You’re so tired of being here. You’ve prayed yourself to sleep so many times, begging to escape this fucking place, only to wake up and still be here, choking on the dry air until you want to tear your skin off from frustration."
Screams and smoke. Smoke and screams.
The fire spread like an impenetrable wall, separating Keiji from the panicked crowd. And though the heat was so intense that sweat poured from him, the flames didn’t seem to burn him.
"But I can change that." Koutarou said. "I can take you far, far away from here."
"Where, exactly?" the black-haired boy asked, reluctant to let a few sympathetic words sway him. "To hell with you, demon?"
And Koutarou, strangely, smiled. As if that was the answer he’d been waiting for.
He released Keiji’s wrists only to grip his waist again, guiding him into the steps of a waltz, their music the chaotic noise of desperate screams and pure panic.
"Look around, darling." Koutarou murmured, his face inches from Keiji’s. "Between hell and this place… is there really any difference?"
The fire consumed everything in its path, devouring wood, brick, and beams down to the foundations. The dry night air only fueled the flames, spreading chaos through the streets.
Chaos ruled the town for weeks, between the severely injured and those who simply hadn’t escaped in time. The hospital, the church, and the funeral home all operated at full capacity.
And on the list of the missing, only one name remained:
Akaashi Keiji.