3 bar menu

V10 Story I – Part 07

“Please turn yourself in, Azuma-san,” I said.

I was met with silence. He gazed at me with quiet eyes, no resistance or refusal. Silently, he contemplated my words.

“You said it yourself,” I added. “Scaring people is not good.”

“I did say that. You’re right. I guess I should have done it sooner. I feel like I knew that. Causing trouble for others is too self-centered.”

Azuma sighed deeply. He could understand me just fine. He comprehended his actions.

Glancing back at the refrigerator, he shook his head and gently closed the door.

“As for Mako. She was loud and came to my house frequently, but I didn’t dislike her,” he muttered, as if to himself. “Everyone hates me—my parents, school teachers, everyone.” His dispassionate voice blended with the humming of the fridge. “That girl said I was a good-looking guy and that she liked me. So I didn’t mind her presence.”

Azuma stroke the blood-soaked, brown hair sticking out of the door.

“What in the world did I do?” he asked in a hoarse voice. “She must have been scared. I…”

Muttering under his breath, Azuma inclined his head, then shook it. He smiled.

“It’s too late for regrets now. I had even forgotten that I killed Mako.”

Azuma turned to face me. Abruptly, he cheerfully swung his arm. His shoulders slumped. His gaze took me in as he extended his right hand in my direction.

“I’ll turn myself in. If you call the cops to this house, it should be easy to verify what I did.”

I nodded, reaching out my hand to reciprocate his handshake.

I recalled the sensation of the bone from earlier. A living human’s hand was soft. I could feel it even through the leather gloves. Countless apparitions of hands haunted this house, a sign of the immeasurable weight of his crimes.

Yet he had chosen to atone for them himself. Grateful for this decision, I nodded deeply.

Then, a woman’s voice whispered in my ear. A shiver ran down my spine, an instinctive disgust making my hair stand on end. The air pulsed. A sweet voice lapped at my earlobe.

Pasty arms wrapped around me. She rested her chin on my shoulder and smiled.

“Wow. Things went well for once.”

The angelic voice applauded me, but the tone shifted suddenly to displeasure.

Flapping both hands like a child throwing a tantrum, she whispered in an incredibly monotonous voice.

“Let’s change it up a bit. I don’t want a happy ending. No one wants that.”

In the next instant, the scene changed. I found myself in the kitchen. Before me stood a blood-soaked refrigerator with protruding hair. Azuma and I faced each other amidst the stench, hands adjoined.

I blinked. Something was not right about this.

Azuma’s left hand was holding my left hand. A living human hand was soft and warm.

My left hand rested atop Azuma’s own. While my right hand was covered with a leather glove, my left hand was bare. I couldn’t recall forgetting to put a glove on. Before I could dwell on the vanished glove, Azuma spoke.

“Oh… that’s…”

I stared at my left hand. The skin from the ring finger to the base of the thumb was faded like a specimen. All fingers, except the little one, were slender, almost feminine. The distorted hand held an eerie beauty.

Something was off. Although it was my own hand, it felt like someone else’s. Like a transplant of unfamiliar flesh.

Staring at it fixedly, Azuma said, “That’s a very beautiful hand.”

My hackles rose, and in an instant, sweat broke out from my entire body.

My instincts blared, warning me of danger. Hearing a growl, I leaped backward, but Azuma kept a firm grip on my hand. I tried desperately to shake myself free, and it worked. He was staring at me with fiery eyes.

“A-Azuma-san? Y-You said you were turning yourself in. Azuma-san!”

He didn’t respond. He extended his arm, plunging his hand into the planter on the kitchen counter. He pulled out a massive knife from behind the leaves.

Fierce eyes bore into me, resembling those of a beast.

The relief that had embraced me moments ago vanished into thin air. I turned and bolted down the hallway.

Footsteps echoed behind me. Several strides later, I felt a sudden yank on the collar of my shirt. I ducked in reflex, narrowly evading the blade of a knife that sliced through the air above me. Ramming the door on my right, I managed to break free from Azuma’s grasp and tumbled into the living room.

I lifted my head, and my breath caught. The living room, adorned with greenery and dotted with fish tanks, held unexpected anomalies. Vivid color danced before my eyes. A crimson parasol blossomed.

The bright red hue invoked thoughts of poisonous flowers. All other sounds seemed to fade behind a watery membrane. What was she doing here? My mind couldn’t keep up.

The presence in front of me was more surreal than the near-death encounter just moments ago.

Mayuzumi tilted her head gently, wearing a nasty smile as she looked at me. It finally dawned—her presence was not an illusion.

Mayuzumi Azaka was standing in a murderer’s living room.

“Mayu-san, why are you here?”

“Because you went out, Odagiri-kun. Didn’t I say that was just a foretaste? I didn’t know if it would settle down or get worse when you headed to his place. Naturally, I expected the latter and came to see. And it seems I was right.”

She twirled the parasol. Before her was a fish tank, where a pale hand rested quietly. A crimson shadow rippled on the water’s surface. I frowned.

“Can you afford to space out, Odagiri-kun?” she said. “Shouldn’t you look behind you?”

In an instant, my collar was seized again, and I was lifted above the ground with tremendous force. My neck tightened, and I bit my tongue. When I was turned around, a gleaming blade loomed in my vision. Azuma held the knife aloft with a blank expression, his grip so strong that his bones protruded.

“Azuma-san!” I shouted, but my words fell on deaf ears.

The blade threatened to descend upon my face. Just as it was about to strike, the sound of water reached my ears. Azuma froze in place, the knife stopping inches from my face.

As I surveyed the room, a shiver ran down my spine. Something felt amiss. It took several seconds for me to grasp the reason—an inexplicable sound that shouldn’t exist. There was only me, Azuma, and Mayuzumi here.

No one had touched the fish tank, but the splashes persisted.

My eyes were drawn to the tank. Pale hand remained submerged inside.

The palm was stuck against the glass. The soft pads of the fingers were distorted. The hand was pressing its palm against the tank’s side, as if peering outside.

Seeing the bizarre sight, Azuma tilted his head. Sanity returned to his eyes.

“What… is this?” he muttered dumbly.

In response, the hand began to move. Fingers wriggled wildly, like the legs of some insect.

Scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch!

Sharp nails scratched against the glass, like a trapped crab desperately trying to break free. The hand continued its frantic writhing, accompanied by a cacophony of maddening sounds.

Scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch!

As the frenzied sounds enveloped the room, I raised my head to witness a horrifying sight. Hands were wriggling in every fish tank.

A snap echoed through the chaos. Casting a sidelong glance at our utter confusion, Mayuzumi nonchalantly nibbled on chocolate. She crushed the hand-shaped candy between her teeth, and elegantly smiled.

“An apparition of a hand manifested in the tank,” she began. “It’s a sign that the accumulated grudges in this place have exceeded a critical point. It served as a catalyst for the others to reveal themselves. And then you added a new one. Furthermore, you’re brandishing a knife.”

Mayuzumi pointed her black-nailed finger at the knife in Azuma’s hand. He gazed at the blade with a puzzled expression.

Mayuzumi smiled. “I’m sure you can imagine what will happen if you push a glass filled with water.”

Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang!

The movement of the palms intensified, relentlessly striking the glass. The fish tanks shook violently, tilted, and simultaneously fell.

Crash!