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V13 Story II – Part 07

Asato said my mental state had deteriorated further.

He wasn’t wrong. I had grown numb to many things. My sense of normality had drifted far from that of an ordinary person. My threshold for what I considered cruel was probably beyond that of most people. Blood and flesh no longer disturbed me. To others, I would surely seem inhuman. Yet, not all my senses had dulled. Carrying a basket filled with living organs still made me uncomfortable. Holding the blood-slicked basket, I trudged forward, grumbling to myself.

Since earlier, I’d been hearing a soft crunching sound from inside the basket. Each time, a chill ran down my spine. Uka had also started to stir inside me, clearly intrigued by the basket and eager to touch it. But whenever she reached out, my belly inevitably tore open. Though in this partially transformed space, I could probably move relatively freely even with a torn belly. But that wasn’t the issue. The idea of carrying a basket while my abdomen was ripped open was absurdly comical.

This mess was all Asato’s fault for thrusting the basket at me without any explanation.

As I fumed, he continued his steady advance. The scenery around us remained unchanged. Eventually, I spotted the remains of overlapping roofs. I squinted.

It confirmed what I suspected—we were going in circles on the Mayuzumi estate grounds. We kept exiting and re-entering the same rooms, though they weren’t exactly the same each time. The contents of the basket changed with every loop, and other variations occurred as well.

Each time we passed under the roof, things seemed to deteriorate further.

Carefully ducking my head, I passed through a curtain of small flowers, when I heard teeth clicking at the back of my neck. I looked back, but the red flowers were feigning ignorance. I wiped the cold sweat from my neck and raised my head. The surroundings were turning redder and redder.

The ground had turned into a muddy mess, its surface resembling stripped skin covered in puncture marks. Every step felt like I was treading on shattered wounds. Everything around me had become flesh, and red flower petals fell from the sky like a sudden downpour.

It was a beautiful but hellish sight. Petals occasionally got into my mouth, tasting unpleasantly sweet, like cosmetics, with a hint of rusty iron. I coughed and sneezed to fend them off. Meanwhile, Asato, holding the parasol, walked gracefully. My resentment grew as I stared at his back. Something seemed to be glaring at mine. We moved as if we were four people in a line: Asato at the front, me following, Uka writhing in my belly, and some mysterious beast trailing behind.

We continued our strange march under the rain of flowers. Eventually, a basin came into view.

Its rim had widened, resembling an antlion pit. As I peered into the bottom of the bowl, my breath caught for the umpteenth time. Red petals had accumulated there, covering the ground like a luxurious crimson carpet. More petals gently drifted down to add to them.

It looked as if the mansion was in the process of being buried. I was reminded of a car buried in red petals in a parking lot. I gripped my left arm tightly. Oblivious to my emotions, Asato slid down to the bottom of the basin, crushing the red petals with his shoes before jumping onto the veranda.

Without thinking twice, he opened the sliding door.

Thack!

Baskets were lined up inside. But there was more—something else was writhing in the corners and on the tatami mat. As I studied the vague shapes, I was reminded of a port.

I envisioned barnacles attached to a jetty. On closer inspection, they were opening and closing restlessly. A warm, iron-scented wind struck my body.

There was a slight air current in the room, synchronizing with the movement of the walls. Seconds later, I figured out what was in front of me.

Countless lips, stuck to the walls, were opening and closing. They writhed in unison, desperately trying to communicate something to us, but without vocal organs, their words never formed into sound. Each time they opened, the air they expelled created a small breeze, filling the room with the stench of decay. The lips stretched sideways, squished vertically, and deflated in frustration. They were not only on the walls but also on the tatami mat, wedged into the gaps between the baskets. I reached for one of the baskets, and cautiously opened the lid to peek inside.

I caught sight of a huge, red mass resembling a sea squirt. Fused together into a grotesque sphere, it writhed constantly without stopping. Goosebumps rose all over my body. Keeping my gaze away, I closed the basket. When I looked up, Asato was silently staring at the gap in the basket. To my shock, he extended his hand, pinching the lips between his slim fingers.

He forcibly closed the lips. As he tightened his grip, the surrounding lips all simultaneously opened into the shape of a scream.

“Asato, that’s enough,” I said.

Squelch.

He tore the lips away from the tatami mat. Covering my face, I let out a sigh. Blood oozed from the lips. Several strands of straw were growing from behind it. Asato carefully shoved the lips into his jeans pocket, then gave it a light pat. Abruptly, his expression turned serious.

“What if it merges with the denim?” he wondered.

“Stop joking around,” I groaned, though I knew he wasn’t entirely kidding.

Objects from the spirit world had a way of defying common sense, merging with inanimate objects as if it were nothing. I glanced at the left leg Asato was holding, then at the bulging pocket of his jeans, and finally at the basket I was carrying, a basket filled with someone’s organs.

The poor soul’s body had been scattered into pieces, their original form almost laughably unrecognizable. At this point, they’d probably forget they were even dead.

Leaving the quivering lips behind, we left the building and resumed our seemingly fruitless circling.

Clang!

What sounded like a guillotine blade dropping came from right behind me.

Snipped hair fluttered to the ground. A sharp gaze pierced through me.

The red flowers grew more rabid, and the presence behind me felt stronger. It was exactly what I expected. Sighing, I looked ahead. The red, which I thought couldn’t get any deeper, had intensified further. The air itself seemed to have taken on a color. It was damp and sticky, as if its very composition had changed. Feeling uneasy, I threw out a random topic to the person walking ahead of me.

“Apparently, oxygen levels above fifty percent are toxic to humans.”

“Where did that come from?” Asato said. “It’s not oxygen that’s filling the air, anyway. It’s something else entirely. And there’s no point speculating.”

“Oh, so you do get it. What is this air that looks so toxic to breathe?”

“It doesn’t really matter, does it? We have no way of knowing what the spirit world’s air is made of. If the air was filled with blood instead, people can swim in it like fish. You can’t even drown here. No need to worry. Although… this place is indeed incomplete. It might be interesting to see if we could really keep breathing here.”

As we talked about such trivial matters, we reached the edge of the basin.

The massive hole was encroaching on the Mayuzumi estate, and it might soon extend beyond the original property line. We spent what felt like an eternity descending to the bottom of the pit. The area was completely buried in red petals, as if the ground was made of layers upon layers of scarlet flowers. Asato once again jumped onto the veranda, gracefully sliding the door open.

Whoosh!

Something was hanging above us.

Distorted spheres dangled from the ceiling, resembling old, expired light bulbs. They filled the dim space above, their rounded shapes and lifeless swinging giving them an inorganic quality. But for some reason, they reminded me of insect nests—nests filled with eggs and mucus, swaying gently. Asato grabbed one and gently pulled.

The tangled strings snapped. The surface, pressed by his fingers, was crushed. He held it out to me. An eyeball, optic nerves still attached, rested in his palm. Its pupil shrank in the outside light. As expected, it was alive. Just to be sure, I opened the lid of a basket. As soon as I did, several things inside stirred, clattering against each other. Sure enough, more eyeballs were hanging from the lid. They were neatly arranged inside the basket like oranges awaiting shipment.

After a moment of hesitation, Asato shoved the first one he grabbed into his breast pocket. The fabric slowly grew damp with some unknown fluid. We exchanged glances, then turned on our heels.

By the fourth time, there wasn’t much left to say.

We simply resumed walking, restarting our endless circling.