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Those Who Encounter It Will Be Consumed

By Zatarra L. Vulpe.

Nathan

Japanese buildings seem to break down like American ones.

There were chips of paint rising off of pale walls. The windows were clouded, covered in dust and rubbed down by something brown. The light was yellow, all natural, catching motes of dust drifting in and out. A shelf was spilled over, wooden slats fallen out and broken. There was a little open door way on the right side of the room. Inside was Nathan.

Nathan hated these games. His teeth bit down on his thumb while he kept his eyes focused on a crack just his opposite. He was in a spot they wouldn't find him. He'd climbed through a venting grate to a back room that was cut off by chains. They'd be too stupid to get around it, especially Takeshi. He always swore the gaijin label would be gone if he just did this next test.

Nathan wished he was in America again.

He could hear them doing it too, just how they said they wouldn't: running around in the dark, a little squeak of sneakers on cement. Takeshi loved this stuff. They were both college but he felt like he was on the playground again when Takeshi was around. Didn't help that he'd been really friendly at first. He even bought Ringu for Nathan when he'd figured out it was something he 'liked.'

Nathan hated him now. Wish he'd never accepted. Nathan hated all of them.

At least he was reminded of onry?. He liked the Sodako and Kayako type, alive and dead. Static was almost welcoming. Even abandoned places like this made him think of their long, black hair, white skin, drifting silently or making bone crunching noises and making inhuman, clicking sounds. Most of all, they wanted what he wanted.

Revenge. Against spurned loves. Against the world.

He thought he heard them aping the noises. The guttural croaks and clicks. He tasted copper from his thumb.

Nathan barely breathed. "Go die."

Nathan blinked. The corner of his left eye grew dark. He glanced toward the shelf remains.

She was utterly silent. Hair long, straight, perfect, like in the movies. She wasn't pale, she was white. Her fingers and toes blue, face hidden by her hair. Faded flower patterns. The one piece swimsuit blackened near the legs. Her right hand was pointing, toward the door, the exit of the room.

He was against the wall. His thumb came up to his mouth again. She didn't move.

Nathan blinked, his hand drifting away from his muzzle. Her head moved, barely, the hair parting slightly. Her iris. Her liner. Black. Nathan stood and walked to the door. Her eye followed.

When he made it into the hall he saw her at its end, pointing to the left. As he approached she was gone in a blink. When he looked down the hall she was midway down, pointing into a room. He followed her this way for what felt like hours. He heard yelling from behind the locked door, but he couldn't really make it out.

Finally, a pool. The room was faded, like the air itself was grainy. The water was utterly black, obsidian polished, crystalline. He couldn't find her. His reflection didn't even show.

"Where are you?"

The water rippled. He could see it clearing, reflecting.

Her eyes.

She stared at him.

He fell to his knees, his muzzle came down to the void, extended softly into what seemed to be a kiss.

When the waters went still, there was no sign either of them had been there.

Ayame

"You sure you don't want a smoke?"

Ayame waved her paw to the shiba. She would tag along for Takashi's bullying, but she wasn't about to get lung cancer. She was gulping a Ramune while she leaned against the wall and rubbed the edges of her mask. She was getting bored, and boredom for Tanuki is tantamount to sleepiness.

"You sure you haven't seen him? I swore I heard him somewhere."

"Takashi-san is hearing things."

"Kouta-san is an idiot."

"At least Kouta-san is handsome."

"Yeah yeah."

The Shiba paused, glancing out of the room he was in, lit cigarette hanging out of his muzzle on one side and his tongue drifting out of the other. His school uniform was open and had one of his cover-band shirts on it.

"Is Ayame going to drink all day until she gets bigger?"

Ayame flipped him the finger until she finished her drink. "It's my fur, I can't help it if I'm cuter than you."

"Aw come on, you're not even looking."

"We've looked over every inch, we haven't seen him, he probably left."

"Nah, I'd have heard him, he'd have cried his little eyes out at my ghost impression."

His eyes crossed over the end of his muzzle and he opened it wide, making a terrible clicking, groaning sound of a cat gone wrong when Ayame tossed the bottle at him. He barely dodged, his cigarette dropping to the floor.

"Hey! Dammit, you're crazier than gaijin-chan out there."

He picked it back up and puffed a drag before his head disappeared back into the room. Ayame glanced down the hall.

There he was. Gaijin-chan. Standing with his muzzle pointed down. He wasn't in his school uniform, in fact it looked like he was in something whitish, kind of weird. His hair was in his eyes, untied. She almost felt sorry for him, she knew he was weird but didn't think he was this freaky. His normally bright orange fur was looking a bit pale. He was trying so hard to look like a ghost. It was sad.

She did a little stretch and peered into the room with Takashi and Kouta. They were still rummaging around in the same piles when the real psychopath was right at the end of the hall. She didn't know who was the least intelligent in this whole situation, but it wasn't her.

Either way, the game was getting old. She pushed up from the wall and started down the hall. Gaijin-chan had pulled a vanishing act. She wondered how many times he'd had to practice to get the timing right. Her hands absently wandered to another Ramune as she reached the corner. She saw his tail turning another corner just as she heard the glass marble bounce in her drink.

She trotted forward in a second and turned the corner. He was on the opposite end of the hall, a long hall. She frowned.

"Come on gaijin, I'm getting bored here, let's leave while they're busy."

Ayame took a sip and jogged down the hall. She did wonder how he was so silent. Maybe all the practice he had by himself. He really was truly sad, though... Something felt wrong. Some of the fur on her tail fluffed up. Maybe he really was damaged, a little too much time being called gaijin. She tried to think of his name, but it slipped her mind. He'd just always been the outsider.

"Hello? I saw you, you can quite playing around."

When she turned the corner again he wasn't there, at all. She threw up her hands and turned back.

Just in time to see a white furred hand come out of a doorway she hadn't seen.

She stared at it for a moment. Gaijin wasn't white, anywhere. She heard a deep sound, sort of croaking and clicking and moaning, inhuman. It started low, but was growing louder. She saw long, black hair sliding over the paw as a head moved into view. Nothing was visible but the long, oily strands that snaked over an emaciated neck. The sound grew, reverberating from the tight corridor and vibrating somewhere in Ayame's chest. She backed away and nearly fell. One blue tinged, sodden paw slapped onto the floor and squished with half deteriorated flesh. She moved into the hallway, slowly, deliberately, her long strands shuffling with every little step, claws scratching into the drywall and nearly tugging out of her dead flesh. Ayame's voice died in a little wimper as she came closer, her one piece swimsuit with their faded sakura prints shifting over what almost seemed to be bare ribs and hips. The tanuki was dwarfed by her, frozen in that awful, unnatural croaking. When it became nearly unbearable, the dead thing stopped, looming over her.

Ayame's eyes ran along her body, the thin figure, the slightly bloating from floating in water cancelled out by clear starvation. Her arms hung limply, lined in blackened veins visible through her dirty white fur. The tangles of her hair, falling straight down under their own weight, dripping slightly.

"G-gaijin?"

Her head moved, only slightly, the hair parting over her eye. Her iris was totally black, thick, dark eyeliner surrounding it. It was too wide, too bloodshot, centered exactly onto the tanuki. Her muzzle opened. Her throat clicked, groaned, like a roar. Ayame screeched.

The tanuki twisted away and sprinted down a wide hall. She was about to turn off at her left when that long hair came around the corner again. Ayame nearly stumbled and fell until she rammed into a doorway. She was in what looked like a supply room, divided by several shelving units. She saw an open vent grate. She dropped to all fours and squeezed herself inside legs first. She was panting heavily, shaking, just trying to get a grip on her hammering heart while she shuffled backwards. She rest her head for a moment, growing quiet. She heard shuffling outside. She froze.

Something brushed her leg.

She looked back. She felt cold, wet fingers dig into her ankle. She saw a single, wide, black eye against white fur.

Her voice nearly broke as she screamed, her paws scrambling and kicking as she was dragged back. Her fingers nearly latched to the exit of the vents.

"No! No! Help me Takashi! HELP ME-"

The metal sounded as though it buckled and pitched. The metal echoed, then went silent.

Kouta

It didn't take long for Kouta's mind to wander. He was looking into a few of the darker rooms when he stopped thinking about gaijin and started thinking about Mika. He sighed. Mika was perfect, physically anyway. She had a perfect, white pelt, those western 'playboy' ears that could fold in a cute way when she wasn't paying attention in class. Her tail rest on top of a gentle, apple shaped rear that completed the hourglass from her bosom. Kouta thought of her and licked his lips.

"You sure you haven't seen him? I swore I heard him somewhere."

Kouta's lips moved before he could think. "Takashi-san is hearing things."

"Kouta-san is an idiot."

"At least Kouta-san is handsome."

"Yeah yeah."

The rabbit glanced around in the dark. It was a bathroom, it looked almost unused. Some of the shadows splayed in strange ways through the half-light in the other room and cracked paint. It looked weird, tangled, like Mika's hair.

He glanced in the stalls. He wasn't into it as much as Takeshi was. Mika was still on his mind. He drifted into the next stall and thought of what it might be like if they ended up in a place like this, alone, in the dark, just the stall walls and each other. He'd try to think up something that would roll off the tongue, like from those sappy moments in western movies where the hero would just have to say the line and the girl would be all over him in a second.

"Quit stalling."

The smirk was still on his face when he opened the door to the third stall in the room. No gaijin, but there was a wadded composition notebook stuffed under the toilet. The characters seemed calm at first, but later they started getting shaky, barely legible, mixed in with erratic drawings of eyes and simple faces. Kouta smoothed out a page and started there.

April 23rd,

He didn't notice me again. I slipped a poem into his locker this time, the one about how I think of him at night. I didn't even hear him mention it to Kayo or Haruki when he...

I know this is sick. I shouldn't just follow him like this, I have to talk to him, I need him to know it from my own lips, but he never notices me, he doesn't like the good girls like me. I don't try to be shy, but I feel like I'm less than what he exhales. He's surrounded by so many, many more beautiful, cruel girls. I would know if his feelings are the same, he just takes what he wants from others. What does it say that he hasn't taken anything from me?

May 2nd,

I followed him while he was out with Kaede. I followed them to the park and I... I watched them. They couldn't have seen me, they were too... busy.

I need to speak to him. I have to tell him how I feel soon. It's eating me away. I read my study books and his name appears. I answer questions and his name comes to my lips first. I eat food that I think he likes, I buy clothes that he would enjoy seeing on my body. I want to be what he needs, I want him to feel how I feel. He's all I could ever want, if he even just spoke to me, kindly, just once, I could die happily.

May 15th,

I told him. I told him everything.

I was shaking, I thought my heart would burst in my chest, but it was aching, I could feel pain from every beat that drew me further away from a life with him. I felt like I was bleeding when the words ran from my mouth. It was all I could do to keep from crying. I held onto his shoulders, like I was drowning, maybe I was. He listened quietly, as though he knew. Every word seemed to have an impact, as though his heart ached in the same way. I went on and on, I couldn't keep track of time or where I was, even who I was.

When I finished, he held me. It felt like heaven. We were joined, tightly, like that for so long, the moment could have been years. I wanted it to be. I knew he would love me, just as much as I love him.

We... Tried things. I didn't want to tell him he was my first, I didn't want him to think any lesser of me. It was a little scary, but soon I didn't feel fearful at all. He told me I was better than any he'd ever had, he said I was perfect. I cried when I returned home. No one had ever told me that.

The writing was more erratic here, but Kouta could still read it. There were no drawings, but it looked like some of the lines were stained by water drops.

May 19th,

I was leaving lunch when I saw the banners.

They had my full name. They had drawings of what we'd done. They had all the scraps of poetry I'd ever written stapled to them on the bottom. They had new names for me. 'Freak,' 'Monster,' 'Stalker,' 'Whore,' far worse.

I had to meet with the principle that day. He said no one had seen who'd done it, so there was nothing he could do to punish them, but with my name on the banner, there really wasn't much he could do other than link it to me. I was told to go home until I developed a clearer sense of judgment and a means to contain my 'extra-curricular activities' from school property.

When I got home, my parents greeted me with every manner of disappointment. They debated as to whether or not I should stay in school considering the insult I'd brought onto them by participating in such activities. They didn't object when I left dinner early.

I'm not sure what I did for the next forty eight hours. My most recent memory after that was standing in my bathroom with a box-cutter digging into my thigh. I didn't know how long I'd been doing it, but my hips and just under my chest were sliced repeatedly by the same length of blade. Nothing was fatal, of course, it burned a little when I tried to wash them.

May 21st,

I keep trying to feel something. I can't. My heart is gone.

I can still feel him. He's there, where it used to be. Those gentle moments seize me. I make a terrible sound every time they do.

It's all extraneous. My body. It's still pumping blood, still inhaling and exhaling, but I'm dead. There's nothing anymore.

I want him, I want to hold him, I want to touch him again, I want to kiss him and feel his jaw with my fingers. I want to run my muzzle over his fur and inhale his scent. I want nothing to be between us.

I want to cut his throat. I want to grab his eyes with my fingers and pull them out of his head. I want to bite into his ears and tear them off until all I can taste is his blood. I want my box-cutter so deep between his legs that he will forget anything else was ever there.

I want him. I want to love him. I want to consume him. I want to kill him. I want to love him. I want to watch him writhe in pain. I want to touch him. I want to eat his tongue while he watches. I want him.

TAKESHI,

TAKESHI TAKESHI TAKESHI TAKESHI TAKESHI TAKESHI. TAKESHI TAKESHI TAKESHI TAKESHI TAKESHI TAKESHI TAKESHI, TAKESHI TAKESHI TAKESHI TAKESHI TAKESHI TAKESHI. TAKESHI TAKESHI TAKESHI TAKESHI TAKESHI TAKESHI! TAKESHI TAKESHI TAKESHI.

TAKESHI TAKESHI TAKESHI... TAKESHI. TAKESHI TAKESHI TAKESHI TAKESHI, TAKESHI TAKESHI. TAKESHI!

The last entry was on a page that was completely blank otherwise.

The pool is empty today. I am going to go fill it.

Kouta shook a little as he shut the notebook.

"Hey Takeshi?"

He paused and leaned out of the stall. The bathroom was dark, still.

"Takeshi?"

He heard a scream and leapt nearly a foot into the air. It sounded like Ayame. She must have wandered off. Maybe it was just Takeshi messing around. That's all it was, Kouta was sure he was just trying to spook everyone.

That said, Kouta was hesitant. He took a few steps through the cracked. He swore he could hear something moving, but he tried to breathe gently and tell himself it was just hearing his own footsteps. He was just a little disturbed and that's all. Nothing to fear but fear itself.

When he took his next step, he felt something tug on his leg. When he glanced down he saw that it was a long, black strand of hair. He lifted his leg and watched the wall before him move. The shadows weren't as deep as he'd thought.

"Wha- what, what the-"

He followed the long, writhing streams of hair back to a lighter spot on the floor. It was just her head amidst moving, writhing, lashing hair strands. She had no irises in the dark. Her eyes were open wide, muzzle falling open, exposing yellowed fangs and a black, yawning hole where her tongue should be. Her head rose from the floor and was essentially hovering in front of him, the focal point the nightmarish mass that encircled his limbs. Her face moved closer while he whimpered and struggled, any attempt to scream out just falling dead in his throat. Her expression didn't change, just the sound that grew louder, clicking deeply into his ears, his face obscuring below hers in darkness.

Takeshi

Takeshi rounded the corner hallway a third time.

"Okay, really Ayame, come on."

He glanced around the corner again, catching a blur of white sprinting down another hall. He wasn't even sure Ayame had been wearing that much white in the first place.

"I dunno what kind of dumb ghost costume you found but this isn't fun anymore."

The shiba's nose twitched as he heard her paws slapping against the concrete. The hall was empty when he got to it. It lead to the chained door, which for some reason had been opened.

"O-oh, so that's what you're doing, didn't know you guys had bolt cutters."

The shiba went through the open double doors and spotted her immediately. Her fur was totally white, thick black eyeliner surrounding what looked like black contacts. She was standing at the end of a hall.

"Wow, so gaijin roped you in too huh? I always kinda thought you were weird, but this is too much. You don't even look like a real ghost."

Her mouth opened, it was totally black. A deep, moaning last gasp came forth. The shiba stared as she did it, adjusted his jacket slightly.

"Yeah real funny, let's get out of here before you get hungry."

He blinked and she was gone.

Takeshi back pedaled, bumping into the doors. They bounced back at him. He turned and tried to push them open. They were shut, locked again, even rebounded from the tension of the chains on the other side.

"What the, Kouta! This isn't funny! Open this thing dammit!"

Takeshi heard a raspy, wheezing sound in his left ear, he felt the cool breath, the vibrations of the moaning. His ear twitched. He could almost feel the moist tongue.

He whipped around, his paw slamming into the door again. Nothing. He was alone in the hall. He swallowed hard.

"Okay, right, yeah, just playing tricks on you, just getting back, no biggie, no problem, just let 'em have fun."

That's when he heard someone running. Down an intersection in front of him. Towards him. He heard noises, raw noises, wrong noises.

He turned and sprinted down the hall on his right. He heard the sound behind him and kept running, taking a left and sprinting through a few halls. Did they get his whole class? What was going on? He couldn't stop though, he knew they would get him that way. He glanced into rooms only to see white specters with their mouths open, all of them moving towards him. Takeshi shook and started yelling at them. He didn't even know what he was saying, just yelling anything he could, his feet constantly moving. When he came to a pair of wide, double doors leading into what looked like a large room, he peered inside, seeing just a clear pool, the sounds of moaning and hissing, guttural clicks and slapping, wet feet coming from all sides. He ran inside and slammed the door behind him.

He stopped, breathed, held his weight against the door. He let the blood stop pounding in his ears, the fur of his small, curly tail reverting to normal. He panted for a second, his tongue out of his mouth, and he smiled.

"Oh, oh man, you guys got me. Jeeze, I walked right into that too."

He stood up and let go of the doors. He was laughing to himself, maybe a bit too loud.

"You guys have really done your research, I didn't even see this coming, holy cow."

His hands were shaking a little as he ruffed his headfur back. He glanced around the pool and held out his arms.

"Well, I'm where you want me, guys, let's see what your 'big scare' is, unless you've all run out of steam already."

That's when the waters stirred.

"Really? A water trick? How many times have people done a water..."

The water was clouding, staining red. Takeshi thought it looked fake, but he kept watching anyway, leaning back against the door again.

He looked up and saw the locker room doors opening. He saw white hands against them. It was just a few of them at first, through the door, out of ventilation grates, some of them just suddenly there. They all had the same look, the same soggy, white fur, the same black eyeliner, gaping, black hole mouths. Their eyes were too wide, red rimmed, they all stared exactly at him, their mouths open, the horrible noise rising to a crescendo. Takeshi covered his ears. The noises weren't right, no living thing could have made that, not with such unity. Their limbs twitched, tails motionless.

Then they all fell silent at once. The water stirred again. The pool took on its obsidian sheen. She rose out of it without disturbing the glassy surface. Her hand slapped down onto the dirty tile, staining it watery red. She pulled out with her other hand. Her fur was stained, long rents along her arms and chest, on her stomach and thighs, her body slipping out of the water in a strained way, as though she couldn't use all of her limbs. Her hair trailed behind her, running through all of her weeping scars, dancing spider webs over her exsanguinated form. She dragged herself along by her arms, a deep growling sound starting somewhere inside of her. Takeshi fell as he watched her twitch.

Her hair parted as she continued her agonizing crawl. Her eyes were centered on him. They were pure white outside of the iris, the empty shadows where her soul should be. Her muzzle opened. He could see her yellowed teeth, her ragged tongue. Her muzzle opened, strained her skin, her throat bubbling forth red water as she came closer. She was near enough for him to feel the breath on his ankles when the groaning, clicking started in earnest, her arms popped and snapped, her legs twisted flopping. She was nearly up to his face when Takeshi screamed. He screamed and screamed and the rest of them joined him.

Nadako

She was walking away from the school. Her hands were wrapped around her little wadded composition notebook. Her hair seemed freshly washed. She wore a jacket and her one piece bathing suit, vibrant Sakura pattern dancing over her belly. Her tail danced back and forth, her healthy, red pelt caught the sunlight. There was a long, gently curving smile on her muzzle, her eyes a little squinty in the sunlight, practically a kitsune mask all its own.

She kept walking away from the old school building, crossing a bit of grass. She was nearly halfway to the parking lot, the shadows of apartment complexes and the gentle buzz of neon signs. The sun was dropping in the sky, the warm, yellow sunlight taking on an orange tint.

She paused, her brow furrowing slightly in concern. She turned back toward the school. It was such a small, grey building; one would hardly know what it was at first glance. Dwarfed in front of it was a shiba, kneeling.

She turned towards him fully. His paws were covering his eyes. His body shook with quiet, involuntary motions. He was on his knees now, bent double over the ground, like he was trying to hide onto it. He gasped and sat up again, his bloodshot eyes and tearful expression frozen.

She was framed by the sun. Her form was outlined in red and orange, the sun centering behind her head like a burning halo. He couldn't read any of her features from where he was, with her shadow stretching as it was. Well, nearly all of her features. Her eyes were opened wide, too wide, black but for their sclera. They held that stare for a few more moments, the sun gently drifting behind her, the sky growing darker.

She took a single step.

He was off the ground, practically running to her. He shook slightly, his expression reasserting some kind of calm. She grasped his hand with her own, tugging it toward her with enough force to put him off balance again. He winced, braced...

She wrapped her arms gently around his, her muzzle nestled into his shoulder. Her serenity returned. She maneuvered under his arm, allowing it to drape behind her head as she leaned into his side.

He stared ahead. His expression was totally blank. They walked together, paws soft on the grass.