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V8 Story I – Part 06

The short hallway led me to the kitchen, its walls furnished with a stove and cabinets.

At the center stood a wooden dining table, equipped with the customary furnishings. Though the fire had long since extinguished, signs of life remained. Bags of bread and decomposing banana peels littered the floor. But there was no trace of the fox. I passed through the area, grasped the doorknob, and swung it open in a single motion.

An overpowering stench of blood and flesh rushed towards me like a tangible mass.

Forgetting to hold my breath, I succumbed to a fit of coughing. I stepped into the room, which resembled the interior of a stomach.

The floor bore a rusty red hue. Within the room lay two human bodies.

The decomposing corpses were partially obscured in the dimness. Their bloated forms appeared grotesquely distorted, like crude imitations of human beings. Pieces of flesh littered the floor.

I averted my gaze from the macabre sight. They were mere lifeless bodies. There was no reason to be afraid.

As I lifted my head, my eyes widened.

At the center of the room was a chair, occupied by the fox. The bodies of the deceased lay under his feet.

His legs were crossed elegantly. Thin light trickled in through the gap in the curtains, casting a glow upon his face. His white hair shimmered faintly.

He stared at me with a vacant gaze, his dry lips parting. “Oh, it’s you.”

I struck him in the face.

Crash!

The chair toppled, and the fox tumbled to the floor awkwardly. My fist blazed.

Disregarding the pain, I seized the fox by his collar. He gazed up at me, wearing a somewhat dissatisfied expression.

“What are these corpses? What have you done, Asato? Answer me.”

“Corpses… Ah, I see. That’s what concerns you. I didn’t expect you to strike me for that.”

The fox sighed and lifted himself up. He calmly wiped away the blood trickling from his split lips.

“Unfortunately, Odagiri, this is not my doing. Well, I suppose I can’t say that with absolute certainty. So let’s just say I’m not directly involved in their deaths. Hence, hitting me is a mistake.”

I frowned. Dead bodies lay strewn across the floor. If the fox was not responsible, then who was? And why was the fox present in this room? I refrained from voicing my questions, keeping them locked within.

I could ask later. This was the place the fox had designated. We had to move quickly.

“We’re leaving, Asato. Return to the Mayuzumi household. I don’t know why you escaped, but Yusuke is looking for you. Staying here is dangerous. You should—”

“Yusuke, huh? I know. He wants to kill me, doesn’t he? It’s simpler to just shut your brain off and shift the blame on someone. People always seek the cause of something, especially in grim situations. To escape the unbearable rage, it’s much easier to kill others than to kill oneself,” the fox murmured offhandedly.

I gaped at him. I sensed my facial muscles tensing up.

Images of Hirugao’s lifeless body, swaying from the noose, came rushing back. There was no trace of her former self in her pale and grotesque form.

“You think you’re not to blame?” I asked.

“Of course not. I merely granted a wish,” the fox responded dispassionately, a faint smile gracing his lips.

Violent rage surged within my chest. I tightened my grip on the fox’s collar.

Even as his throat constricted, he went on, “I advised her to stop. But she wanted to regain her memories, despite the horrors she would uncover. It was folly. Humans cannot escape their destiny. It’s a mistake to think that you’re different, you’re special. That you can break the shackles of fate.”

Asato’s smile bore a hint of self-deprecation. My grip loosened.

The man who failed to become someone special, the boy who failed to become Mayuzumi Azaka continued.

“Was I the one who looped the noose around her neck? Was I the one who pushed her? Was I the one who squeezed the life out of her? How stupid.”

His inscrutable, fox-like expression cracked. A hint of hatred tinged his otherwise impassive countenance, his smile belying the intensity in his eyes.

“Tell me. What exactly did I do? I told you I’ve had enough.”

A heavy silence fell. His words contained a fragment of truth, but they were not for him to utter. He had a history of toying with those who begged him to grant their wishes.

He should have foreseen Hirugao’s death. Could we truly say he bore no responsibility?

“You were aware of the outcome,” I said. “How can you say you had no hand in it?!”

“Are you telling me I should have rejected the hand she was extending so desperately? Even when she would have never backed down? Did you want me to decline countless times out of the goodness of my heart? Why would you expect me to put in that effort? I did not attach conditions to her wish. I demanded nothing in return. I can assure you, Odagiri.”

The animosity vanished from the fox’s eyes, and a mocking twist appeared on his lips.

It mirrored the shape of the fox mask.

“Had she not made a wish, she wouldn’t have died.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re innocent!” I roared.

Unsettled emotions raged within my chest, with nowhere to go.

As I blamed him, I also came to realize—ultimately, there was no need to engage in this blame game. She took her own life. The fox, foreseeing her demise, had extended a helping hand. That was all there is to it.

To blame him, to shift the burden onto his shoulders, what purpose would it serve? Hirugao would not come back to life.

There was no point in any of this. Nevertheless, Yusuke sought revenge, and I was filled with rage.

No one could mourn in silence.

“I…”

“So, you’re placing the blame on me anyway. Knock yourself out. The fact that I had toyed with you all this time remains unchanged. The child in your womb will not vanish. Undoing this recent incident will not change anything. So, how about killing me, Odagiri?”

He exposed his pale throat to me. I only needed to extend my hand a bit to grasp it. Strangling the fox would be exceedingly easy.

“You can end my life here and now,” he provoked nonchalantly. “Kill me and renounce your own hypocrisy.”

“If you want to die, then go ahead and die. Did you leave the manor just to say that?”

I pushed the fox away. He plopped down on the floor, calmly running his fingers through his hair—a gesture reminiscent of an animal grooming its fur.

He gave a casual shrug. “I’m not that cowardly. Well, it doesn’t really matter why I left the cell. There’s a different problem at the moment, Odagiri.”

What more could there be? Seeing my perplexed expression, the fox smiled thinly. It was a different smile than before. He stretched out his arms and puffed out his chest.

“We cannot leave this place.”

A lovely ringtone sounded. I noticed the cellphone nestled within my chest pocket.

Come to think of it, I had forgotten to return it to Nanami. The LCD displayed the name Mayuzumi. Without a chance to ponder the meaning behind the fox’s words, I answered the call.

“Hello.”

“Hi, Odagiri-kun. Where are you right now?” A familiar voice came through the phone.

I glanced at the fox. “Mayu-san, I found Asato. But he said something weird.”

“…What… can’t… hear… Odagiri… I…”

The voice suddenly became distorted. Harsh static assailed my ears. Mayuzumi’s voice intermittently dipped low and stretched high, making it difficult to discern what she was trying to say. But I managed to catch a few words.

“…Mai… me… Later… office… understand…”

“Mayu-san? Hello? Mayu-sa—”

Click.

The call ended abruptly. I tried to call her, but there was no response.

“Damn it! What the hell is happening?!”

“It’s pointless, Odagiri. Your phone won’t work here. It’s a miracle that you managed to even establish a connection,” the fox calmly remarked.

I surveyed the room once more. A sliver of light illuminated the fingertips of a lifeless body. I averted my gaze from the decaying flesh. Yes, I had realized it from the outset.

There was a distinct boundary between the outside and the inside. Passing through that door meant crossing that threshold.

“Is this your doing?” I asked. “What are you planning to do with me?”

“You misunderstand, Odagiri. After leaving the manor, I went to your apartment. I then left the letter before hiding in this place. Not being able to leave was an unforeseen development.”

He cast an icy gaze at the corpses. He frowned, as if trying to recall something. Then he shook his head and pointed at me.

In an indifferent tone, he asked, “Odagiri, do you recall the game I devised?”