Chapter Text
The conversation from Sunday afternoon was still echoing painfully inside Yoshiki’s head as he stared at the dark tree line.
He could still vividly remember the chaotic laughter of the group, and the way Maki and Asako had leaned across the table to pitch the idea to Hikaru.
“You guys have to check out the old trail miles out of town,” Maki had barked out, completely ignoring Yoshiki's quiet misery.
“The local forums are literally full of threads about it. People swear there's something mimicking voices in those woods. The views would be insane.”
Asako had eagerly nodded along, pointing out that urban legends about entities changing shapes or stealing identities would completely match their channel's vibe.
Skinwalkers I think she called it?
Hikaru had happily taken the suggestion into immediate consideration, his pupils sparkling with a terrifying, content-hungry excitement that Yoshiki knew meant danger.
And now, exactly one week later, they were standing right in front of the entrance to the abandoned hiking trail, staring straight into the dense forest.
The night air was shrouded in an eerie, thick hanging mist that made the pale moonlight reflect blindingly against the damp leaves.
To Yoshiki, everything about the pitch-black woods felt completely hostile and suffocating.
His internal thoughts were already spinning webs in a rampant barrage of pure, gut-sinkening dread.
Mimicking voices.
Things that pretend to be human.
Things that pretend to be animals.
Why did Maki have to open his loud mouth?
If I hear something calling my name in those trees, I am dragging Hikaru by his hair and running straight to the car.
He shoved his left hand deep into his pocket, his fingers frantically clenching around his plastic pill bottle, another silent prayer that his sensitive stomach wouldn't act up in the middle of nowhere.
On his left, Hikaru was completely unbothered by the heavy, freezing fog, standing in just a light hoodie as he adjusted his equipment.
He extended his cheap plastic selfie stick with a sharp, fluid click, mounting his phone before tapping the screen to bring up the camera app.
The bright, white glow of the lens instantly washed over both of their faces, cutting through the dense mist as Hikaru threw on his signature, cheerful toothy grin.
"What's up, Ghostfacers! Welcome back to the channel!" Hikaru cheered loudly into the microphone, throwing up a bright peace sign.
"We are officially at our fifth location, the notorious forest we live near! Our friends told us there’s urban legends of skinwalkers. OoOoOoOspooky! We’ll try not to get our skin snatched!"
He smoothly spun the selfie stick around, bringing the lens closer to frame both of their faces together in a tight, intimate frame.
"And as you can see, my 'secret boyfriend' Yoshiki is already pouting in the background because he's afraid a forest demon is going to steal our matching couple aesthetics!"
Yoshiki’s entire face instantly flashed a violent, burning crimson, his jaw was left slightly agape as he let out a sharp, quiet yelp of pure panic.
"S-Shut up, you idiot! Knock it off!" Yoshiki whisper-shouted aggressively, his hands tightly bunching into fists inside his pockets as his chest fluttered violently.
"This is exactly why the comments section is full of those stupid edits! Because you keep saying nonsensical stuff like that on camera!"
Hikaru immediately burst out into a loud, maniacal series of those airy, Windex-bottle giggles, the cheap plastic selfie stick shaking wildly in his grip.
"Awwh, come on, Yoshi, the fans love it!" Hikaru hummed happily into the mic, his red pupils crinkling with endless mischief.
"We're literally matching the entire vibe of that one song! We’re literally Luxury by Azealia Banks energy, hehe!!"
Yoshiki just stared at him blankly through his bangs, his flustered face shifting into a state of absolute confusion at the referenced song.
Luxury...?
Azealia Banks...?
What even is that?
"That sounds completely stupid," Yoshiki deadpanned blankly, his throat tight as he forced his voice into a flat huff.
"I have no idea what you're talking about, moron."
Hikaru let out a dramatic, high-pitched gasp, his jaw dropping open as he quickly lifted his free hand to place it flat against his chest, pretending to be deeply offended.
"Stupid?!" Hikaru wailed mockingly into the lens, his face splitting right back into a wide, thoroughly wicked grin.
"How dare you! Luxury is a masterpiece! But I guess I shouldn't expect good taste from the depressed emo who only listens to depressing, crying-in-the-dark songs like Who Knows by Daniel Caesar!"
Yoshiki’s eyes widened slightly, a violent flash of a fresh, hot blush rushing right back into his cheeks at the sudden callout.
He completely forgot about the song Hikaru mentioned, his defensiveness taking over as he rolled his eyes aggressively.
"It is not a depressing song, jackass!" Yoshiki snapped in a sharp rasp, quickly trying to defend his taste in music.
"It’s a good song. It’s relaxing. It’s classy unlike the loud, brain-rotted internet trash you listen to twenty-four seven. You like six-seven jokes too... You can’t talk to me about ‘good taste.’"
Hikaru just let out another burst of loud, cheerful laughter, clearly delighted by how easily he had managed to derail Yoshiki's panic into a petty argument about music playlists.
Hikaru smoothly flipped the selfie stick back around, his bubbly voice returning into the phone’s mic as he pointed the phone camera down the dark path.
"Boooo, whatever! Alright, Ghostfacers, enough about Yoshiki’s terrible taste in slow-burn R-and-B!" Hikaru whispered loudly into the microphone, his eyes crinkling.
"We are officially stepping past the trail marker. The fog is getting super thick already, even just at the beginning of the trail, so keep your eyes peeled for anything moving!"
Yoshiki let out a sharp, ragged huff, forcing his feet to trudge forward onto the damp dirt path.
He made sure to stay exactly one step behind Hikaru this time, entirely abandoning his usual three-paces behind Hikaru after what happened at the hospital.
The freezing night air was shrouded in a heavy, dense mist that seemed to completely swallow the beam of his flickering flashlight.
Above them, the skeletal branches of the ancient trees scraped aggressively against one another in the cold wind, making a rhythmic, scratching noise.
Yoshiki’s internal thoughts immediately began spinning webs in a rampant barrage of pure, gut-sickening dread.
It's too open here.
There’s nothing here to protect us.
If something jumps out from behind a tree, we have nowhere to hide...
And the mist is making everything look like a silhouette.
He subconsciously tightened his white-knuckled grip on the plastic pill bottle in his hoodie's pocket, his teeth chattering slightly from the chill fog latching to his skin.
They walked deep into the quiet woods for ten grueling minutes, the only sound being the crunch of dead leaves beneath their sneakers.
Suddenly, the heavy rustling of the tree branches completely cut off, plunging the entire forest into a dead, suffocating silence.
Yoshiki froze dead in his tracks, his breath hitching violently in his throat as a cold, sharp shiver shot straight down his spine.
From somewhere deep within the pitch-black treeline on their right, a distinct, heavy snapping sound echoed through the mist.
It wasn't the sound of a small twig breaking under a raccoon or a stray animal.
It sounded like a massive, heavy branch being violently splintered in half by a solid, crushing weight.
Before either of them could even utter a single gasp, a faint, muffled sound drifted through the freezing air.
It was a voice.
It sounded incredibly distant, warped by the dense fog, but it was actively calling out a name over and over again in a flat, monotonous rhythm.
"Yoshiki... Yoshiki... Yoshiki..."
Yoshiki’s entire body went completely rigid as if he’d been struck by lightning, his jaw locking up so hard his teeth ached in pure, unadulterated terror.
The eerie, flat rhythm of the voice continued to echo through the freezing mist, growing louder and distinct with every passing second.
"Yoshiki... Yoshiki..."
Yoshiki’s heart gave a massive, suffocating thud against his ribs, his wide, intense eyes darting frantically toward the pitch-black treeline.
He didn't think about staying three-paces behind Hikaru, and he didn't care about his pride.
He blindly stumbled forward, desperately trying to close the remaining inches of distance between his trembling, shivering frame and the white-haired boy in front of him.
But because he was moving in a blind, trembling panic, his sneaker came down hard right onto a large, incredibly dry branch hidden beneath the fog.
A loud, violent crunch echoed on the forest path.
Yoshiki let out a sharp, quiet gasp at the sudden noise, his entire body jumping a foot in the air as pure adrenaline flooded his system.
Instinctively, his hands flew forward, and he threw both of his arms tightly around Hikaru’s left arm, locking his fingers together as he clung to him for dear life.
He buried his face straight into the side of Hikaru’s shoulder, his teeth chattering violently as his rapid, sporadic thoughts hit an absolute fever pitch.
It's closer.
The voice is right next to us.
Oh my god...
Is it coming from right behind the trees?
"Yoshiki..."
The monotonous whisper drifted through the air once more, right beside his ear.
Yoshiki froze entirely, his breath catching sharp in his throat as the raw, trembling panic in his chest suddenly short-circuited.
Wait.
That didn't sound like it was coming from the woods...
It sounded... exactly like Hikaru’s voice.
Yoshiki slowly peeled his face away from the thin fabric of his friend's shoulder, his wide eyes tracking upward under the pale moonlight.
Hikaru was standing perfectly still, holding the plastic selfie stick high to frame them both in the camera.
But his lips weren't moving, and his head was tilted down toward Yoshiki, his face splitting into a massive, wide, and thoroughly wicked grin.
His dilated red pupils were crinkling with absolute, maniacal amusement, silent, wheezing giggles vibrating heavily inside his chest.
He had been throwing his voice the entire time, using his voice to mimic a distant phantom just to watch his best friend lose his mind.
Yoshiki’s entire face instantly flashed a violent, burning crimson that felt hot enough to scorch the damp leaves beneath their boots.
Pure embarrassment and sudden, explosive fury washed over his churning stomach all at once.
"You jackass!" Yoshiki whisper-shouted aggressively, his voice cracking sharp in a trembling, flustered panic as he violently ripped his arms away from the hold.
He lunged forward, flattening his palm right over Hikaru's face and forcefully shoving his nose and forehead away with an angry annoyance.
"I hate you! I literally hate you so much! Don’t do that shit!"
Hikaru just burst out into a series of loud, cheerful, and unbothered giggles as his face was pushed back.
He smoothly reached up and gently guided Yoshiki's palm off his forehead, his long, pale fingers lingering against Yoshiki's skin for a fraction of a second.
Before Yoshiki could even think to retreat back to his one-step distance, Hikaru lunged forward, locking his left arm firmly around Yoshiki’s waist.
He pulled Yoshiki's body aggressively close to his side, their hips brushing together in a tight, protective, unyielding hold under the moonlight.
"Awwh, don't be like that, Yoshi!" Hikaru purred teasingly into the microphone, his red pupils sparkling with a terrifyingly playful mischief.
He tilted the plastic selfie stick high, framing both of their faces together in the green night-vision frame before looking down at him.
"If you wanted to be held so badly, all you had to do was ask me! You don't have to go making up ghost encounters just to get a cuddle!"
Hikaru finished the sentence with a dramatic, slow, and thoroughly wicked wink straight at Yoshiki, ensuring the camera saw.
Yoshiki’s brain erupted into internal, chaotic screaming at the actions of his best friend.
His arm is around my waist.
He's holding me so tight.
He literally just winked at me.
Why did he wink like that?
Oh my god...
Why does he have to be so annoying?
But...
My chest feels light and warm...
I need to pull away.
I should pull away.
I should punch his shoulder.
But...
His side is warm.
Really warm.
Like a furnace cutting straight through the freezing mountain fog.
Yoshiki aggressively rolled his eyes behind his bangs, forcing his expression into a flat, tough-guy deadpan as his heart hammered violently against his ribs.
He didn't pull away from the hold, and his hands remained firmly inside the deep pockets of his hoodie, letting his body completely melt against Hikaru's solid weight.
"You're a literal child," Yoshiki rasped quietly, his voice cracking sharp in pure, trembling embarrassment as his cheeks burned a dark crimson.
"Turn the camera back around, idiot. We're supposed to be exploring, not doing whatever nonsense this is."
Hikaru just let out another series of loud, teasing chuckles, absolutely delighted that Yoshiki hadn't actually pulled away from the hold.
They continued down the winding dirt path, the dense mountain fog swirling thickly around their sneakers.
Hikaru held the selfie stick out ahead of them, turning his head back to face the trail as his cheerful, bubbly voice smoothly returned for the recording.
But as they walked, Hikaru’s left hand slowly shifted against Yoshiki’s waist beneath the shadow of the heavy jacket.
Completely off-camera, his pale fingers began to move in a lazy, teasing fashion, gently kneading the soft fabric over Yoshiki's hip.
Yoshiki’s entire body went completely rigid, his breath violently hitching in his throat as a jolt of pure electric warmth shot straight up his spine.
His internal thoughts erupted into an absolute, frantic tidal wave of chaos.
What is he doing?
He's actually rubbing his fingers into my side.
Oh my god, I can't breathe...
I literally can't breathe.
Why is he doing this off-camera?
Shouldn’t he be doing this for the fans or something?
Yoshiki whipped his head around, glaring aggressively at the white-haired boy through his bangs, his entire face violently flashing a dark, burning crimson under the moonlight.
He wanted to scream at him, wanted to violently yank his wrist away, but his throat was so tight he couldn't even manage a single word.
Instead, he just forcefully snapped his gaze straight ahead all over again, keeping his hands tightly bunched into his pockets as he let his frame remain completely melted against Hikaru's teasing hand.
Hikaru just let out a series of soft, joyful, and deeply teasing giggles, his red pupils crinkling with endless amusement as he felt the intense warmth radiating from Yoshiki's cheeks.
They walked in that heavy, suffocatingly close tension for another few blocks of trees, the only sound being the rhythmic scratching of the branches above.
Suddenly, Hikaru stopped dead in his tracks, the fingers against Yoshiki's waist instantly locking still.
"Whoa, look at that, Ghostfacers," Hikaru whispered loudly into the microphone, his playful voice dropping into a tone of genuine excitement.
He smoothly panned the cheap plastic selfie stick to the left, directing his flashlight beam to cut straight through a cluster of thick, overgrown brush.
Hidden deep behind the tangled branches was a small, ancient stone shrine.
The stone structure was completely covered in dark moss and creeping vines, its miniature wooden roof rotting away from decades of total neglect.
Yoshiki felt a cold, sharp shiver shoot straight down his spine, his jaw locking up tightly as his eyes settled on the time-stopped structure.
The green night-vision screen perfectly captured the eerie, stark silhouette of the hidden woodland shrine.
"Hikaru, don't," Yoshiki muttered in a sharp, hurried whisper, tightening his fists into his palms, his knuckles turning a stark white.
"I am entirely serious. Look at it. I don't want to go anywhere near that thing. It looks completely cursed."
"Awwh, don't be a party pooper, Yoshi!" Hikaru hummed happily into the mic, his red eyes crinkling as his playfulness returned in full force.
"The viewers are gonna want us to get up and personal with the mysterious shrine! They’ll be disappointed if we don’t~! C’mon, we have to investigate it for them!"
Before Yoshiki could even think to pull back, Hikaru firmly stepped off the dirt path, his arm still locked around Yoshiki's waist as he dragged them both right into the thick, overgrown brush.
Yoshiki let out a sharp, quiet huff of pure frustration, forcing his sneakers to trudge through the tangled weeds because he had absolutely no choice but to follow.
He never listens to me.
Every single time I say something is dangerous, he walks straight toward it.
If a forest demon pops out, I am throwing his selfie stick at it, then him after.
They stopped just two feet away from the moss-covered stone base, the freezing fog swirling thickly around their ankles as Hikaru held the camera high.
The bright beam of Hikaru's flashlight cut straight into the hollow, miniature stone alcove of the shrine.
Resting inside the dark center was a heavily weathered, rotting wooden box, its tiny brass latch completely green with age and oxidization.
"Check it out, Ghostfacers," Hikaru whispered loudly into the microphone, smoothly panning the lens to capture the details.
"An ancient offering box! What do you think is inside? Cursed coins? Skinwalker teeth?"
Yoshiki’s jaw locked up tight, his wide, intense eyes staring at the rotting wood as an icy, suffocating chill shot straight down his spine.
The camera perfectly captured the intense, breathless silence passing between them in front of the ancient box.
"Seriously, Hikaru, do not touch that," Yoshiki hissed in a sharp, frantic whisper, his throat tightening up as he stared at the green, rusted latch.
"Unless you want to get cursed by whatever spirit they locked inside that thing. Just leave it alone."
Hikaru let out a low, quiet chuckle right against the side of Yoshiki's face, his arm tightening just a fraction more around Yoshiki's waist.
"Awwh, you're always worrying so much about me," Hikaru purred softly into the microphone, his voice dropping into a soft, teasing drone that made Yoshiki's chest flutter.
"I’ll just double it and pass it to the next person who comes along. But maybe... you're just secretly worried you'd have to find a new 'secret boyfriend' if a curse took me away? Awh, is that what it is, Yoshi?"
Yoshiki’s entire face instantly flashed a violent, burning crimson under the pale moonlight.
His jaw locked tight, his breath completely catching sharp in his throat as the intense, mocking tease shut him up entirely.
Before Yoshiki could even think to stammer out a flustered, trembling yelp of protest, Hikaru smoothly released his grip on Yoshiki's waist.
He leaned forward, his long, pale fingers stretching straight into the hollow stone alcove of the shrine toward the weathered wood.
Yoshiki stood perfectly rigid in the freezing fog, his hands tightly bunched inside his pockets as his eyes glued themselves to Hikaru's hand.
Hikaru wrapped his fingers around the rotting lid, and with a sharp, echoing snap of the green brass latch, he violently pulled the offering box completely open.
The camera lens, angled perfectly down into the hollow center of the box, caught the exact moment the lid flipped back.
Resting inside the rotting velvet lining was a small, shattered glass pocket mirror, entirely caked in dark, dried grime.
But tucked tightly beneath the broken glass was a thick, coarse patch of matted gray animal fur–completely fresh, entirely dry, and smelling heavily of raw copper and decaying iron.
Yoshiki’s breath instantly hitched violently in his throat, his wide, intense eyes staring at the fur as a wave of absolute, gut-sickening horror washed over his stomach.
That's not old.
That fur is fresh.
Someone must’ve put that in there recently.
Before either of them could even utter a single syllable, the thick, freezing fog directly behind the shrine aggressively shifted.
The dead, suffocating silence of the forest was violently shattered by a sudden, heavy crunch of dead leaves just ten feet away.
Right on the heels of the noise, a flat, completely monotonous voice drifted through the dense trees, echoing in a sickeningly familiar pitch.
"Yoshiki... Yoshiki... Yoshiki..."
"Hikaru, I am entirely serious," Yoshiki hissed in a sharp, furious whisper, aggressively turning his head to glare at the white-haired boy.
"I literally just told you to stop doing that shit. It's not funny anymore. Cut it out."
Hikaru slowly tilted his head up from the offering box, his brow pulling together in a heavy, unyielding frown that completely lacked his usual playful mask.
"Yoshi, what are you talking about?" Hikaru asked quietly, his red pupils wide and dilated in total, unscripted confusion.
"I didn't say anything. My mouth was completely closed."
Yoshiki’s entire body went completely rigid as if he’d been struck by lightning, his heart giving a massive, suffocating thud against his ribs.
He didn't answer, his jaw locking tight as a dead, suffocating silence crashed right back down over the overgrown brush.
Then, right on cue, the flat, monotonous whisper drifted through the dense fog once more, coming from the shadows right behind the ancient stone base.
"Yoshiki... Yoshiki... Yoshiki..."
The pitch was horribly warped, stretching and glitching at the ends like a broken audio tape trying desperately to mimic a normal human voice.
It sounded like the voice of a chain smoker, although terribly distorted.
They stood perfectly frozen in the freezing mist, their wide, intense eyes locked onto each other in absolute, suffocating silence.
The realization dawned on them both at the exact same millisecond.
Hikaru wasn't trolling him.
Hikaru was standing right in front of him, his fingers still resting on the edge of the rotting wooden box.
Whatever was calling out his name from the dark treeline was entirely real, and it was standing just ten feet away in the fog.
"Hikaru," Yoshiki whispered out a small, trembling command, his voice barely a rasp as his fingers tightly clenched inside his pockets.
"Close the box. Close it right now and let's go."
Hikaru didn't argue, and he didn't try to force a witty remark for the camera.
He slowly turned his head around, his dilated red pupils locked onto the dark treeline as he reached down, shutting the heavy wooden lid and firmly snapping the green brass latch back into place with a dull click.
He deliberately stepped in front of Yoshiki, his back completely shielding his friend's rigid, shivering frame from the thick fog behind the shrine.
For one single, agonizingly quiet second, they both held their breath.
Then, Hikaru violently lunged forward, his pale fingers wrapping tightly around Yoshiki’s wrist in a fierce, unyielding grip.
"Run!" Hikaru shrieked frantically, his previous vlogger confidence entirely shattered as he yanked Yoshiki along.
They bolted, blindly scrambling through the overgrown brush, their sneakers tearing aggressively through the tangled weeds as they scrambled back onto the main dirt trail.
Hikaru sprinted full speed down the foggy path, his white-knuckle hold on Yoshiki's wrist acting like a literal lifeline as he dragged him through the freezing mist.
"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!" Hikaru whisper-shouted back frantically, his voice cracking sharp in pure, unadulterated panic as they ran.
"Yoshiki, I swear to god that was not me! That voice was completely wrong! It sounded like a literal corpse trying to speak!"
"I know! Just keep moving!" Yoshiki shouted back in a breathless rasp, his lungs burning from the icy night air as his heart hammered violently against his ribs.
His thoughts were a screaming siren of looping chaos.
It was trying to lure me.
It knew my name.
If that thing catches up to us, I am throwing up right on the trail.
Just keep holding my wrist.
Don't let me go.
Ahead of them, the glowing orange streetlamps of the main road finally came into view through the dense tree line.
They flew past the wooden trail marker, completely flying out of the dark woods until their sneakers hit the safe, solid asphalt of the empty street.
They both collapsed heavily against the hood of Hikaru's parked car, their chests heaving violently as they desperately sucked the fresh air into their lungs.
The cheap plastic selfie stick was dangling loosely from Hikaru’s trembling hand, the phone screen still actively recording a dizzying, green night-vision blur of their frantic footsteps.
“I think I’m gonna be sick...” Yoshiki gasped, rasping out as he forced himself to not dry heave.
My stomach’s not built to handle so much mental and physical stress...
Hikaru’s dilated red pupils immediately snapped away from the dark tree line, locking directly onto Yoshiki’s bent, hyperventilating frame.
The frantic, terrified panic completely vanished from his features, replaced by a sudden, intense wave of unscripted protective concern.
He dropped the cheap plastic selfie stick completely onto the hood of the car, entirely unbothered that the phone lens was still actively recording them in the green night-vision filter.
Hikaru stepped closer, his pale fingers sliding gently away from Yoshiki's wrist so he could place both of his palms flat against Yoshiki’s trembling shoulders.
"Hey, hey... Just breathe, Yoshi," Hikaru whispered incredibly softly, his voice dropping into that deep, gentle drone that always quieted Yoshiki's racing mind.
"You're out of the woods. You're completely safe now. I'm right here. I've got you."
Hikaru slowly leaned his weight forward, gently rubbing his hands in slow, soothing circles across Yoshiki's upper back, his solid warmth cutting straight through the freezing mountain fog.
Yoshiki clutched tightly at his stomach through his hoodie, his face flushing a hot, flustered pink as his rapid thoughts gradually began to settle under the comforting weight of his best friend’s attention.
He's doing it again.
He's rubbing my back right on camera this time.
I’m going to die of embarrassment...
"I-I'm fine," Yoshiki rasped out quietly, his voice cracking sharp in a mix of pure exhaustion and intense embarrassment as he slowly stood up straight.
"Just... pick up your phone and turn it off already, idiot. We need to leave before that thing comes out of the bushes."
"Hehe, alright, alright," Hikaru giggled softly, a tiny, tentative smile returning to his lips as his familiar, playful mask smoothly slid right back into place.
He reached over and scooped the selfie stick up from the hood of the car, weakly lifting a trembling hand to flash a thoroughly defeated peace sign to the lens.
"Alright, Ghostfacers... We are officially ending the video early!" Hikaru whined quietly into the microphone, his usual cheerfulness completely ruined.
"There are... definitely skinwalkers in those woods. Go ahead and hit that subscribe button, and uh, don't go into the forest at three in the morning. Okay... uh—bye!"
Hikaru quickly tapped the screen to end the recording, completely plunging them both into a heavy, tentative silence under the safety of the streetlamp.