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Halloween night was the most boring night of the year, Obanai thought grimly. As a child, his mom wouldn’t let him out past dark like he was some sort of easy target, even though he generally scared the other kids his age and not the other way around. Any outsider would suppose it was for his safety, but Obanai knew better. The “no leaving the house after sunset” rule, which endured until he was 16, was only the lock on the cage. A cog in the system they’d built around him in order to keep him nice and obedient. And bound like a prisoner on death row. So he’d left the house at 16, all but escaping. One day he was bound, and the other he was free.
And now he lived in another sort of cage: a low-rent apartment in the sketchiest part of town. Obanai didn’t scare easy, so the junkies who mumbled to themselves and the occasional gunshot in the dead of night didn’t really rattle him. Anything was better than the alternative (i.e.: the old and tried family house).
The downside: Halloween sucked. Even if he didn’t look like it, Obanai was something of a softie, and he used to enjoy meeting the kids of their old neighborhood. Passing candy around, lounging on the couch waiting for the doorbell to ring, the radio station blaring spooky anthems… A moment perfect for child-Obanai to feel like a somewhat normal kid.
And now, holed up in his raggedy apartment where the floors creaked and the roof of the bathroom leaked, Obanai regretted not having bought any candy. If he couldn’t delight the local kids with refined sugar, he could at least do himself this favor. But the weight of a day spent managing customers at his dead-end fast food job had glued his ass to the couch. He’d settled for some popcorn, which slowly rotated in the microwave at this very moment. But the craving for sugar remained.
He shot a look out the window, calculating how long it’d take him to walk to the nearest convenience store and grab a bag of sour patch kids. Outside, night stretched like a thick black veil, obscuring even the nearest blocks. The view from his fourth story flat allowed him to see gaggles of children roaming the streets, dressed as cowboys, mermaids, cartoon characters…
Obanai observed the flow of the crowds, in turn illuminated under the street lights, then disappearing in the darkness between. Mindlessly, he scratched his cheek. Home was the only place he let his scars see the light.
Right when he was about to rise and throw his coat on, a low vibration caught his attention. Acting on autopilot, he picked up his phone. Unknown number. Weird.
Obanai didn’t have more than 2 or 3 friends, so incoming calls on his cellphone were about as rare as a lunar eclipse.
“Hello?”
A short silence followed, and Obanai dumbly thought this might have been a wrong number.
“Hello?” The voice at the end of the line echoed.
Obanai figured this was a guy about his age, although the tone was harsher, perhaps more on edge.
“Who are you?” Obanai asked flatly.
“Uh,” the other man said. “Who are you?!”
Obanai felt the last of his patience slip. “Who are you trying to reach?”
“Obanai Iguro.”
“Well that’s me.”
The man at the end of the line let out a relieved huff. “Oh, thank God. Geez, you had me confused, there.”
Obanai’s microwave made a loud beeping noise. His popcorn was done. Rather than giving a reply, he waited for the stranger to explain himself. He gingerly pulled the steaming hot popcorn bag out of the microwave, dropping it on the counter when the tips of his fingers started to burn.
“Tengen gave me your number,” the stranger said. A short and rather stupid explanation.
Obanai was mystified. That his coworker tried to set him up with girls was one thing, but men? This was new. Obanai seethed, thinking of the earful he’d give Tengen when he clocked in on Sunday. His memory conjured up the image of Tengen’s shit-eating grin and his obnoxious poking (“Still single?”, “You had a DATE?! When’s the wedding?”), which only served to irritate him further.
“Oh. He did, did he?” Obanai grumbled.
“I just didn’t think your voice would sound like this,” the stranger said. “Name’s Sanemi.”
“Uh-huh, now listen Sanemi, not that you’re bothering me or anything (he was), but I’m really not in the mood to chat.”
“What, bored on Halloween? What a buzzkill,” Sanemi teased. His voice was definitely raspy, like someone you didn’t want to see angry. But his tone had instantly become lighter, even playful.
In spite of himself, Obanai was curious to see where the conversation would head. He sat at the table with a bowl full of popcorn, all thoughts of candy forgotten for now. “Yeah, working 1 to 8 doesn’t exactly put me in a party mood.”
A loud laugh erupted at the other end of the line. “No plans at all? That’s pathetic.”
“Okay sure, I might be a recluse. Did Tengen warn you about that?”
“He didn’t. He didn’t tell me much.”
“But this is some kind of setup, right?” Obanai said, adding quietly: “Fucking Tengen, man.”
Sanemi hummed, pretending to think. “I guess. Only if you want it to be!”
Obanai shrugged, before realizing stupidly that the other couldn’t see him. “We’ll see.” He grabbed a handful of popcorn and chewed half-heartedly. It seemed even a dreadful day at work couldn’t work up his appetite.
“So you’re sitting alone at home, right?”
“Yeah. What about you?”
Sanemi ignored the question, instantly steering the conversation in another direction. So he was one of those people who talked more than they listened. Obanai felt his interest take a drop. That is, until he heard Sanemi’s next question: “Not watching anything scary, are you?”
Obanai leaned into the table, his chin resting in his palm. “I might. Any recommendations?”
Again, Sanemi laughed. “Depends on what you like. You’re super into slashers, right?”
Obanai was stunned for a second, losing his earlier bout of confidence. “Did Tengen tell you that?”
“Nah, I guessed.”
“Sure.”
“You seem like the type.”
Obanai felt a slight tug in his gut. For the first time since they’d started talking, he felt that something was off, although he couldn’t identify the nature of his unease.
“What’s your favorite slasher?”
“Uh,” Obanai started, unable to come up with an answer. His discomfort gradually settled as his natural skepticism worked its magic. Tengen was something of a blabbermouth, who knew how much he’d told that guy?
“Wait no, let me guess. Scream.”
Obanai had only just managed to swallow another bite when he felt his stomach sink like it’d been lined with lead. “How’d you know?” His voice came out too weak to his liking.
“Lucky guess. You always skip the part where they have sex, right?”
No answer came: Obanai’s lips were sealed, his throat tight with anxiety.
“Why is that? You a prude or something?” Sanemi said. There was a rather worrisome tilt in his demeanor. His voice no longer betrayed a playful smile, but rather a sneer.
Reflexively, Obanai shot a look at his door. Thankfully locked. So was the door which opened to his balcony and the stairs leading to the alleyway behind his block. “I just don’t much care for it,” Obanai managed. “Hey, listen, you’re freaking me out. Genuinely. I gotta go to sleep, so if you’re interested or whatever, just shoot me a text or something.” Obanai prayed to God he wouldn’t. This guy was legitimately giving him the creeps, fixating on horror films like that. If this was some sort of teasing, it didn’t feel lighthearted at all.
“Wait, don’t go,” Sanemi tried.
Obanai barely took the time to say goodbye as he hung up, practically jogging to his bedroom. He threw his cellphone onto his desk and let himself fall face first into the bed.
“What the fuck,” he said into the covers.
Just when his heartbeat began to slow, the phone rang again.
“Fuck it,” Obanai said, shaky fingers struggling to find how to block the number.
A sudden realization hit him: there was no way to block unknown callers, not if they hadn’t sent a message. So he resigned himself to pick up, mentally slapping himself for being so on edge. Something about the shift in Sanemi’s voice had put him in a ridiculously paranoid state.
“What do you want?” Obanai spat, rather harshly.
“The fuck?!” Tengen said. “What’s your problem, man?”
“Sorry,” the other managed. “Thought you were somebody else. Why aren’t you using your phone? The number was masked!”
“I’m at this party I told you about. Borrowed my girl’s phone,” Tengen explained. Racket in the background indicated to Obanai that the party was most likely well underway. “Is it cool if you take over my shift tomorrow? I wanna get wasted tonight. You wanted more shifts, right?”
Obanai couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “Okay sure. Is that all?”
“Uh, yeah. You really should’ve come, though! This place is pretty neat.”
“Maybe next time,” Obanai said, even though they both knew he wouldn’t. “Oh by the way, that guy you gave my number to? Absolute freak.”
A pause, when Obanai could only hear the noise of the party. Then Tengen spoke up again: “Who? What guy?”
“What do you mean ‘who’?! That Sanemi guy. Said he got my number from you.”
“I don’t know anybody called Sanemi. You okay? You sound kind of weird.”
Obanai swallowed with difficulty, trying to suppress the bile rising in his throat. “I’m good. Have fun over there.”
When Tengen hung up, Obanai remained frozen on his bed, listening half-mindedly to the flat tone of the dead phone line. He nearly flew off the mattress when the phone rang, fucking again.
Could it be Tengen? Or Sanemi, this time?
With dread pooling in his belly, Obanai picked up.
“Hey, you kinda hung up on me, there!” Sanemi said, feigning disappointment.
“I’m going to sleep. What do you want?”
Once again, the stranger ignored his question. “Picking up a call from an unknown number? Not very bright. Haven’t you learned anything from these films?”
Obanai weighed his options. Call the police? Was he safe, or was this just a nutcase having some fun at somebody else’s expense? Perhaps this prank was stupid but harmless.
Seeing as Obanai kept silent, Sanemi spoke again: “Here’s how this is gonna go. I’ll give you three questions, all easy-peasy stuff. You can answer three questions, right?” Still no answer. “And if you get them right, we both get to go our merry way, maybe go to some party, like Tengen. Or spend the night watching TV and rotting on the couch, like your mom’s doing right now.”
"And if I don't?" Obanai was on the verge of cardiac arrest. It was a wonder he still managed to string sentences together.
“I guess you’ll have to see! Anyway, you gotta admit I’m doing you a favor, tonight. No plans on Halloween is a fucking sacrilege.”
Obanai shuddered, but another feeling began to tug at the back of his mind. As freaked out as he was, he couldn’t help the foolish, reckless excitement. He didn’t scare easy, but this was just too weird. And yet despite the fear, he'd never been one to turn down a game. Idiot, what are you getting excited for?! Obanai thought wildly. He had to pull it together and actually call the police. He had half the mind to hide somewhere, just in case.
Like he was reading his mind, Sanemi forced him to stop in his tracks: “Don’t think about hiding in the bathroom. I know it doesn’t lock from the inside. You’ll be as vulnerable as a trapped mouse.”
Obanai’s mouth ran dry. “Enough beating around the bush. Are you some kind of stalker?!”
“Question one,” Sanemi said, effectively cutting him off. “What film did you watch on Monday night?”
Obanai thought for a second. He was still standing frozen in the middle of his room. His hand went numb with how tightly he was gripping the phone. “I was drunk off my ass,” he replied uneasily.
“I know.” Sanemi’s voice was steady, like this was just a regular evening for him.
“I don’t remember.”
“You have to,” Sanemi countered. A faint clicking sound erupted at the other end of the line, making Obanai’s hair rise at the back of his neck.
“What was that?!”
“Nothing you need to worry about, for now. What was the film?”
Obanai struggled to think, scratching at his cheeks. “Some stupid chick flick. With Julia Roberts. Whatever was on at the time.”
“Title?”
“Pretty Woman!” Relief practically flooded Obanai’s body. He’d blurted the name out almost on instinct, as soon as he’d conjured it.
“Bingo, ding ding ding!” Sanemi cheered. “I guess you advance to the next round. Oh, by the way! Don’t scratch up your pretty face so much, I don’t like to see you hurt.”
And there came the dread, settling right back at the bottom of Obanai’s stomach. He actually wasn’t surprised to know that the other man was watching, perhaps using some kind of hidden camera. He knew too much about Obanai—too much for it to be your ordinary stalker stuff. This was something different. Serious. Adrenaline had kept Obanai focused so far, but the idea of failing to answer one of these god forsaken questions had him all but petrified.
“Second question,” Sanemi continued. “Where do I know Tengen from?”
Obanai drew in a breath. He could answer this. He had a rather astute sense of deduction, and now was the time to kick it into high gear. He thought for a moment, pondering all the people he knew Tengen frequented. Coworkers, friends, family…
Every once in a while, he glanced at the window, searching for a sign of a presence on the street. So far, a few kids had strutted down the alley with pillowcases full of candy. Was there a way for him to escape through the window, just in case something happened?
“Trick question,” he finally said. He couldn’t keep his voice from shaking. “You don’t know him at all, you’ve just done some snooping around. Bastard.”
“Right again! I’m proud of you,” Sanemi cheered with a hint of arrogance. “Never even talked to the guy.”
So the one you want is me, Obanai thought. “Drop your last question, get it over with,” he spat.
“Tired of our game, already? That’s too bad. Alright, here’s the big finale. Where am I, right now?”
Sanemi’s tone had dropped to a dangerous low, a shift which had Obanai’s hands grow cold. His mind reeled. “Do I get a hint?”
“Sure,” Sanemi said amiably. “I’m even closer than you think.”
With his brain going into survival mode, Obanai all but jumped to grab his bedroom door and slam it shut. His breath came into short, ragged pants. “…You’re on the backdoor balcony,” he uttered.
A silence followed. “Wrong answer,” Sanemi said.
What followed was the loudest crashing noise Obanai had ever heard. Or maybe the adrenaline made it resound inside his skull like a warning siren. His bedroom window shattered into pieces as it was fiercely kicked in. In the split second when he ducked to avoid the pieces, Obanai saw something at the corner of his eye: a large black boot shooting right through the glass.
And Sanemi emerged inside the room. As it seemed, he’d climbed the gutter up to the narrow ledge which led into Obanai’s bedroom. The black-haired man had never even fathomed that anybody could stand on this dirty old strip of cement, let alone scale the wall up to it.
Sanemi (unless this was some sort of accomplice?) was tall and broad-shouldered, with a head of tousled white hair. His face was covered, but not by some scary Halloween mask: he wore a plain black surgical mask, like the ones worn by doctors and sick people. The heavy thud of his boots on the apartment floor was enough to make Obanai’s blood run cold. At this moment, he dearly regretted not having called the police.
But there it was again, this irrepressible spark of excitement. Obanai was sure he’d never been so goddamn stimulated in his entire life. Like a maniac, he felt close to laughter, but maybe that was just the adrenaline. There’s something so fundamentally wrong with me.
He bolted out of the room like the devil was on his tail, stumbling on his feet and willing his numb limbs to come to life.
Skidding to a stop in the living room, he fumbled with his phone to dial the emergency services.
At the same time, he grabbed the doorknob of the front door, only to see that it wouldn’t budge. The shock had him lose the grip on his phone, which fell to the floor with an ominous crash. To hell with it, Obanai thought.
He fought with the door, before finally noticing that something about it was wrong. A belt had been tied in a complicated manner around the doorknob, in a way that kept the door stuck in its position. “The heck?!” Obanai all but cried.
He shot a look back, watching in a panic as Sanemi emerged from the bedroom. His stance was relaxed and his gait was lazy. His entire outfit was black, complete with a long coat which partially concealed his waist. But under it, Obanai caught a glimpse of something shiny which hung at his hip. Not a knife, but a gun.
The black-haired man sprinted to the balcony door, and found that it’d been secured in the same manner, leaving him all but powerless and at Sanemi’s mercy. In a last, desperate effort, he banged on the front door as loud as he could, hoping to alert his next-door neighbors. But no luck: he remembered in a daze that they’d left for two weeks on some kind of business trip. Sanemi probably knew this.
Obanai turned to his assailant, but as he did, his knees gave way and he fell to the floor. “What do you want?” He managed to say. His hair was damp with sweat, locks stuck to his forehead.
Sanemi stopped right before his kneeling form. For the first time, Obanai heard his voice in person. It was low and honeyed, definitely not helping with the strange feeling at the back of Obanai’s mind.
“Now, now,” Sanemi said. With practiced ease, he drew the handgun from his belt. “No need to get all teary-eyed and anxious. We’re just having fun out here, aren’t we?”
Obanai felt metal under his chin. Sanemi had used the gun to tilt his head up. Their eyes finally met. The white-haired man had a strange glint in his eyes.
“What the fuck?” Obanai said. He’d used up all his energy, and even his voice couldn’t rise above a whisper. “What do you want with me?”
“I’ll make you happy,” Sanemi said, as if it made a shred of sense. “Just for tonight. You don’t know this, but we have a lot in common, you and me. That’s what drew me in. I know about your mom and your sisters. What they put you through. Hell of a haunted house they’ve got, over there.”
“You’d know a lot about that, you horror film freak,” Obanai scoffed. The gun was still sitting under his chin, pointing right at the top of his throat. If he so much as moved, he felt its cold, unforgiving presence. “So you wanna make me happy, huh? You got quite a way to show it.”
“My family wasn’t all rainbows and cupcakes, either,” Sanemi mused, almost talking to himself.
Now that his heartbeat had stopped pounding in his ears, Obanai felt the blood in his body rush… well, southwards. He definitely had some sort of unaddressed trauma. “Oh yeah? So mommy and daddy are mean, and you decide to break into people’s houses about it? Take a page out of the Michael Myers book and stalk people about it?”
Sanemi hummed, nodding with emphasis as if feeling inspired. “Yeah, that’s about it. I guess you do know some stuff about me.”
“I know you have a way inside my apartment,” Obanai said.
“Oh yeah? And how’d you figure that out?”
Obanai jerked his chin at the balcony. “The doors. You did this earlier. You had me talking on the phone, too distracted to hear you move around. I played right into your cards.”
“That’s right,” Sanemi said. He withdrew the gun from under Obanai’s chin. “Now if I do this, are you gonna be good?”
“Sure, and I’ll bake you a pie and warm the bed.”
Sanemi tilted his head to the side, thoughtful. “Actually that doesn’t sound so bad.”
Obanai took this short moment of distraction to make for the balcony door. Maybe if he kicked it hard enough, the glass panel would give way. But before he even got to the door, a hand grabbed his collar and yanked him back. Soon enough, Obanai stood right in front of Sanemi. Their difference in height was rather intimidating, especially considering how close together they stood.
The gun was back under Obanai’s chin, forcing his head to tilt uncomfortably upwards. Their faces were so close that Obanai heard the other man’s breath under the mask. “Nice try, champ,” Sanemi said, eyes crinkling with a large smile. “Hey, you’re pretty light. Easy to move around. Can you handle yourself in a fight?”
“I can kick you in the balls,” Obanai gritted.
“HA! Let’s see you try.”
“What are you gonna do, shoot me?”
“I won’t shoot you, but can I hurt you,” Sanemi assured. Softly, almost with reverence, he ran his fingers through Obanai’s hair, making his scalp tingle. “Guys like you need protection. From guys like me.”
Obanai’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. In spite of himself, his tightly sealed lips shifted into a grin. “Very romantic. I’m charmed.”
The energy in the room had quickly been altered by this sudden change. Sanemi seemed delighted. In one quick movement, he popped the safety on and tucked the gun back under his belt. In the same breath, he single-handedly grabbed Obanai and threw him onto his shoulder.
The black-haired man felt his feet leave the floor and he was hit with a sudden wave of vertigo. His mind no longer ran on fight or flight mode, but the rushing adrenaline had his hands shaking and his head oddly light.
Sanemi dropped him roughly onto the couch, and the back of Obanai’s head hit the leather with a thud.
“’This want you want, huh?” Obanai heard himself say. He sounded like a madman, but he’d never felt so alive. “So the doors are locked and I can’t climb out my bedroom window, cause I’m not some kind of creep who can crawl up the walls. What’s next?”
Sanemi hummed for a second, watching him from above, eyes trailing his form. He was a hunter content with its prey. “I’ve been waiting for this,” he rasped. “You’re gonna thank me when we’re done.”
Obanai couldn't repress a grin. "I guess we'll see!”