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Day 4, XXXX/XX/XX. Morning.
The teriyaki chicken sizzled in the pan, releasing an aroma that Yuichiro once found good. There might've been too much soy sauce, but there was no way he could taste the chicken.
It'd just taste disgusting no matter what. And, it would burn like coals on his tongue.
Yuichiro was practically trembling as he arranged the contents of a bento box. Why his hands were shaking— he didn't know. Was it frustration towards himself? Was it his newly-developed aversion to human food? Was it the aching arm sending jolts throughout every nerve?
…
In the end, this was something that was not his fault, for once. It was all because of that—!
‘Morning, Nii-san,’ said a familiar voice. Muichiro sleepily walked to the dining table, where his breakfast already lay.
Yuichiro let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and returned to the bento box. Once he finished packing, he brought the box over to the table and placed it in front of Muichiro. Strangely, his brother stood up and tried to peer into the kitchen, craning his neck so much he was on his tiptoes to keep balance.
‘What the hell are you doing?’
Muichiro frowned and looked back at him. ‘Nii-san, where's your lunch?’
Something got caught in Yuichiro's throat. He glanced around for a short moment before managing, ‘I’m getting food from the cafe.’
This seemed to do something, at least. Muichiro returned to his seat and swallowed the rest of his breakfast in one go.
Yuichiro decided that it was too early in the morning to start anything. He turned back to the kitchen, trying his best to ignore a familiar, intense stare that was practically drilling a hole through his head.
Stop it.
Something halted in the quiet morning air. Yuichiro met his brother's eyes. They were much closer in distance than they had been mere moments ago.
Muichiro had stiffened in his steps, his hands clenching the tray of cleaned plates. His jaw was rigid, as if he had been interrupted mid-sentence. Or, caught red-handed.
Yuichiro's breath hitched. ‘What?’
Muichiro swallowed. He opened his mouth, but seemingly forgot what he was going to say. ‘Nothing,’ he murmured. ‘Just…’ The wooden tray was inviting.
Gently, Yuichiro received the tray, and carefully set the objects into the sink. There weren't many dishes, so he figured that he could wash them when he returned. He moved towards the living room, removing his apron and hanging it up in one, swift motion as he exited the kitchen.
His trenchcoat laid on the sofa, a palish beige stretch of fabric that was slightly bigger than his frame. Yuichiro slipped into it, feeling the thickness of the insulation layer. That artificial warmth that would turn suffocating in only an hour. Yet, he always endured the heat. The clothing was of a good quality, fairly priced, and was conventionally stylish. Like people always said, beauty is pain. He slung his leather bookbag over his shoulder, the weight of his textbooks nonexistent due to his increase in strength. There was no need to check his appearance again.
Hands braiding his hair in quick, practised movements, Yuichiro stopped at the front door, the crease between his eyebrows deepening. Muichiro stood there in wait, his feet shifting from side-to-side.
‘Why haven't you left?’ Yuichiro raised his voice slightly. A small wrist motion revealed his watch. ‘You’re late to your picnic. You're going to be, anyway, if you don't get moving. Won’t your friends complain?’
Muichiro's head tilted to the side. Black locks of hair rolled off his shoulder, covering the mascot on his sky-blue hoodie. He stuck one hand into the pockets of the grey sweatpants he wore. It was strange how different their senses of fashion were.
‘I want to walk with you. Besides,’ a soft smile appeared upon that face, ‘they’ll wait for me.’
Of course they would.
‘I'm going the opposite way.’
His brother shrugged. ‘Walk out of the house, at least. I want to see you off.’
Yuichiro turned the proposition over in his mind as he finished with the braid. With an air of pretense irritation, he scoffed, ‘All right, fine! I guess we can walk together for a bit.’
He stepped into his loafers and pushed open the front door. ‘Don't get used to this.’ I don't want you to ruin your own plans because of me.
As he walked on, Muichiro watched his shrinking back, deep in thought. Before closing and locking the door, he murmured, breathless,
‘It's too late to say that.’
Day 9, XXXX/XX/XX. School.
Plop. Plop. The liquid slowly dropped from the pipette into the beaker. Yushiro had to hold both objects far above the lab bench, for Yuichiro had been absent-mindedly tapping on the table.
‘Can you stop doing that?’ he growled, finally setting the equipment down. ‘If we get points docked off, it's going to be all your fault.’
Yuichiro had to blink three times to get that furious face into focus. ‘Doing what?’
‘You keep tapping on the table!’
‘Was I?’ Yuichiro stopped leaning on the lab bench. He pinched his own hand to try and regain focus. The sense of vertigo made his limbs heavy and jumpy at the same time.
“Yuichiro-kun, are you okay? You’re really pale.” whispered Takeuchi, rather awkwardly. He rubbed his nape while tilting his head to try and take a closer look.
‘It's Tok—’
‘You look like you haven't eaten for so long! Did you have any breakfast?’
Yuichiro held up a hand, providing some sort of cover for his face. Takeuchi had said it too loudly, and, now, a few other classmates were also trying to look.
‘Of course I did, idiot.’ He didn't. ‘It’s just the lighting.’ Bullshit.
In fact, he hadn't eaten for at least two days. If Yuichiro was still a human, he'd be lying in the ER looking like a pincushion, with god knows how many chemicals flowing into his bloodstream.
…No. If Yuichiro was still a human, he wouldn't have to starve.
Out of the corner of his eyes, Yuichiro could see a hand approaching him. Without thinking twice, he quickly slapped it away, earning a small yelp and stumble from Takeuchi.
Shit. I didn't control my strength.
Luckily, the taller boy managed to grab onto the edge of the table to prevent himself from falling. But when he steadied himself, Takeuchi clutched his hand and grimaced. He tensed up immensely, and exhaled, breath shaky.
Rolling his eyes, Yuichiro snatched Takeuchi's hand with an air of impatience. ‘It can't be that bad, let me see.’ His classmate always had a tendency to overreact, after all.
There was a familiar smell. Metallic and… fragrant. Inviting. Delicious, even.
Yuichiro's own hand flew to his face, smacking it right in the middle. He screwed his eyes shut and stumbled backwards. If smelling it made him so hungry, how bad would it get if he saw the blood?
I have to get out of here.
Throwing a quick excuse at the teacher, Yuichiro made a beeline for the exit. He didn’t look back as he kept moving forwards, all the while trying his best to ignore just how hungry he was.
Where could he go now? It must be somewhere isolating and somewhat unconventional. Thankfully, his genius brain didn't fail him this time. Splitting his attention between dodging the teachers’ prying gazes and avoiding drawing any curious looks from loitering students, Yuichiro finally arrived at the gym storage room.
He climbed into a corner and slid onto the floor. Climbed— since the piles of equipment were stacked in towering piles. They seemed to teeter dangerously.
Seriously, someone ought to organise these things better. Luckily, they surrounded him, so there was only a small chance that he would be found. For once, having a small body isn't so bad.
It was at this moment when Yuichiro was fully aware of how light-headed he was. Maybe he should've risked getting discovered to eat last night. Takeuchi was right. It had been long since he'd eaten. Even monsters couldn't starve, it seemed.
He leaned against the dusty wall and shut his eyes. Just relax, for a bit… He'd apologise to the teacher later…
‘So this is where you were.’
Yuichiro jolted awake, hitting his head hard on another wall. A shadow loomed over him. The presence was suffocating, until Yuichiro recognised that salmon-pink hair. It turned out to be one of Muichiro's classmates.
‘Tokito’s looking for you, y'know.’ said Sabito, rather matter-of-factly. He rummaged inside a box of equipment. ‘He's been glued to his phone ever since he went to your class and he couldn’t find you.’
Yuichiro's eyes grew wide. He tentatively turned off “do not disturb” —
Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding!
Sabito watched with slight amusement as Yuichiro winced at the overwhelming number of missed calls and incoming messages.
‘So, are you gonna do anything about it?’
As a reply, Yuichiro turned “do not disturb” back on, groaned, and buried his face in his knees. He seriously had to eat something tonight.
Day 11. XXXX/XX/XX. Stocking up.
He huffed and looked at the red beef with furrowed brows. Yes, it was something that was perfectly edible, yes, it was something that was even on sale, yes, getting this beef would be a shocking deal.
But the sight of the ideal piece of meat was nauseating to Yuichiro. Yet, he grit his teeth and placed it in the basket, heavy with the weight of food, none of which he could consume.
Something shoved him to the side with a crash, throwing him off balance, but he managed to steady himself. Yuichiro looked around, trying to find the source of the attack, only to be met with a young child riding on a shopping trolley in front of him. The kid’s eyes were practically popping out of his head as he gawped at Yuichiro. The sight was slightly unnerving.
‘What?’ he deadpanned, returning that dazed look with a frown. Usually, he wasn't this blunt, but he just couldn't deal with a tantrum at the moment.
Yuichiro had to try holding his composure while a wretched part of his imagination conjured the image of those popping eyes… popped right into his mouth. He gripped onto the metal handle of the shopping basket, the feeling of cold metal engraving itself into his mind. Hunger, truly, is a curse.
A woman hurried past him and grabbed onto the child. ‘Mitsu, what are you doing! I told you not to run off!’ She then turned to Yuichiro and gave quick, fervent bows. ‘I am so sorry for his actions! Are you all right? Mitsu, apologise for hitting this young man!’
Something whispered from inside him, and he considered eating them both out of frustration. Yet, Yuichiro managed to stop himself from continuing the thought past taking a huge bite of the woman’s forearm.
Taking a deep breath, Yuichiro prepared to speak. Before he could get a single word in, however, the child asked in an innocent voice, ‘Are you superhuman?’
‘Excuse me?’
‘Goodness, I'm so, so, so sorry for his rudeness!’ Yuichiro watched them, baffled into silence, the words disappearing from the tip of his tongue. Whatever about him could've come off as “superhuman?” He had nothing super, and he was far from human.
The woman was still peering intently at him with worry. ’Still, is your arm all right? The trolley did hit it quite harshly…’
Did it? Yuichiro couldn't feel anything. He moved his left arm around, much to the surprise of the mother and son. ‘I’m fine.’
‘See! Mama! He's not normal!’
For some reason, that sentence made Yuichiro feel cold all over. He couldn't focus as the mother reprimanded her child, apologised to him again, then quickly left after realising that he was truly all right.
Yuichiro pondered as he stepped out of the supermarket. The familiar, technic sound rang out from behind him. He continued moving forward, paying little attention to what was in front.
With his right hand, he felt the arm that was hit, squeezing it. Then, Yuichiro dug his nails into the flesh, so harshly that they punctured his sweater, tore open his skin, and sunk into muscle. The pungent, metallic smell of blood pierced the air. The sweater soaked up the liquid. Yet, no stain of dark red could be seen over the blue cloth.
It stung like how it used to, at least. The nerves were still working as usual. Strangely, it felt like when one holds one's hand under cold water for too long.
People, normal, unassuming people, were looking around to try and find the source of the smell. Of course, blood signaled danger, didn't it? They seemed so confused. Frightened.
Feeling slightly on edge, Yuichiro tried ignoring the fact that everything in his bag was inedible. And how everyone around him was. As a sort of crude joke, it reminded him of that one trope in cartoons. When a character got too hungry, they'd start imagining everything around them as steaming, aromatic roasted chickens. Though, it's not like the character would eat those things that they dreamed about. He, however—
Yuichiro removed his hand. Without anything to staunch the bleeding, blood flowed more unrestrained than before. The numbness from his intense hold was fading, causing the wound to sting and ache.
The pain kept his mind sharp. It prevented him from fully giving into the monstrous side that was so intensely hungry. What's a little harm to himself if it meant the danger would be kept from everyone else? He'd heal anyway. At least there'd be no residue. At least he'd still be alive.
Yuichiro dug the bloodstained hand into his trousers’ pocket. It touched a strange and rough material, and he took out the object in a panic.
Sitting, slightly crumpled, in Yuichiro's hand was a voucher for the supermarket. He cursed quietly.
That was 900 yen he could've saved.
Day 3, XXXX/XX/XX. Acquisition.
He walked over to the bathroom and stared at his own reflection in the mirror. The cracks inside his irises were still there. Yuichiro raised his hand and touched it with one finger. No pain.
The box he held contained nothing heavy, but he somehow felt an overwhelming weight dragging his arm down. No matter. No, it was just himself being dramatic again.
With a small slice of a boxcutter, the cardboard revealed what was inside. Yuichiro examined the oval-shaped container with a slight apprehension.
The case was open. Two small, differently-coloured circles sat neatly beside a pair of tweezers and a small bottle of fluid. The caps of the circles twisted open, displaying identical contacts of a bright blue.
He's never done something like this before. With his memories of the tutorial videos he's watched, Yuichiro carefully put the contacts over his own eyes.
Ah…
It looked so wrong. He blinked once, twice, but the odd feeling lingered like a stone in his chest.
Who was that person in the mirror? No, was that even a human? He couldn't recognise the thing staring back at him. A monster?
What was the monster glaring at him right now?
Yuichiro yanked off the contacts, still handling them with enough care to not break them. But when he looked back at the mirror, the monster was still there.
I look so wrong. I look weird. I look off.
Those words hit him like a reassuring pat on the back. Yuichiro put the contacts back on, and gave the thing in the mirror a tired smile.
I've always looked wrong. I've always been just a bad copy. It's never been so… obvious.
Maybe I should just rip my face off.
Yuichiro blinked slowly, lips parted in a daze. That person in the mirror, that face, masquerading as a human, a corrupted imitation of someone else. It mimicked his expression perfectly.
He buried his face in his hand and let out a pained groan, ‘No… I…’
Suddenly, there was a searing pain on the back of his left hand. Then— a deafening crash. The mirror shattered. Jagged shards of glass tumbled to the ground, sharp as knives. Face muscles are not thick. One gentle swipe would cut through the skin and fat. A stronger, firmer press would easily slice through muscle, tearing apart the tough ligament, then scratching against bone. A tingling sensation spread beneath his skin, like ants were crawling on his muscles.
Yuichiro grasped his bangs and screwed his eyes shut, trying to clear his mind by distracting it with pain. It worked for a short moment. The strange feelings slowly dissipated. He let out a shaky breath, and removed the hand clawing at his face.
Blood was pooling in his palm and flowing onto the floor, dripping from the tiny openings between his fingers. A thick, viscous waterfall. It seeped into the cracks between tiles, staining the wood a dark crimson. The liquid bubbled as if it was alive.
A bang shook the house, and Yuichiro let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Trembling violently, his line of sight shifted uneasily between the clean floor, intact mirror, and then his unharmed left hand, curled into a fist. His knees went weak for just a split second— before Yuichiro caught himself by leaning against the sink.
‘You’re fine.’ he muttered, oddly composed, staring dully into the void beyond the drain. ‘You won’t die yet.’
Yuichiro quickly made his way to the kitchen, where the noise was still coming from. He skidded to a stop at the entrance, bewilderment settling in his eyebrows. Muichiro was in the middle of dusting off a pan, as he kneeled on the floor.
‘NIi-san! I didn't mean to drop—’ Muichiro stopped as his eyes immediately fixed themselves on Yuichiro's face.
It was a little unnerving. ‘What the hell were you trying to do?’
Muichiro hurriedly shook his head, and returned to the pan. ‘I was trying to make dinner… since you seemed so tired.’
‘I'd be even more tired if you burned the house down.’ He trudged over to where his brother was. ‘Come on. Out. Of. My. Kitchen.’
‘Our kitchen. We live in the same house!’
‘I honestly feel bad for the poor kitchen when you're standing near it. Listen, you…’ But his voice slowly died out at the sight before him.
Muichiro fluttered his eyelashes, eyes shimmering like a wounded animal. He sniffed— pretending, probably— and wiped away some crocodile tears.
Unfortunately, no matter how much he tried to resist, no matter how much he tried to be rational, it was extremely difficult for Yuichiro to stand his ground at that expression. Even when he was well-aware that the entire thing was an act.
‘You—’ Yuichiro ran a hand through his hair, gripping the strands tightly. ‘Fine, get up. You can wash the vegetables.’
It was with relief that Yuichiro sighed at his brother’s smile. He could almost see a tail wagging in excitement.
Day 6, XXXX/XX/XX. Midnight.
The low hum of the laptop tuned out all other sounds. Though the charts were still flowing, and the trackers were still moving, Yuichiro's sight blurred. Closing his eyes, he decided to leave his room for a bit, get some fresh air, then go back to stalking a government agency.
Yet, when Yuichiro turned his door handle, his phone buzzed, and his ringtone rang out quietly. Curiously, he turned it over while planning a myriad of insults to fire at the caller. What insane person would try to contact people at 2:30 AM?
His inner voice grew silent upon seeing the caller. Yuichiro made his way to the balcony and stood in the night for a moment, before picking up the phone.
‘Dad,’ he breathed.
As familiar as can be, a man's cheerful voice rang out. ‘Good morning, Yu–i–chi–ro! Listen, you cannot believe what just happened! So, Keith-san and I had to have this meeting…’
Mr. Tokito thus launched into a long ramble about “what might be my most successful pitch yet.” He excitedly recounted the treacherous journey he had to take, the nights of toiling over the logistics of his idea, the excruciating moment where he had to present his pitch to a new, powerful client (“Thank goodness it was in English! If it was German, I'd have no choice but to surrender!” he joked), and finally, reaping the satisfying reward of establishing a connection with one of the most powerful companies in the world.
Yuichiro listened absent-mindedly, eyes wandering off to look at the stars dotting the night sky. Though, if asked, he would be able to recite the entire story word-by-word. He’d also remember how many stars there were in the place he was observing.
‘Papa’s going to get a bonus~’ said Mr. Tokito in a sing-song voice.
‘Congratulations, Dad. That's… cool,’ replied Yuichiro timidly. He was quite happy for his father, yet found it difficult to say those words.
The man laughed. ‘Come on! Sound happier! This entire bonus is going to you two, you know?’
Yuichiro's wandering mind stopped. What? Why? That tightness in his chest arose. He was getting angry again.
‘Where's Muichiro? Tell him to come over, I bet he'd know what to do for a celebration. He didn't pick up when I called.’
‘Wait— wait a minute—’ Yuichiro tried to arrange the growing storm of thoughts into something comprehensible. ‘First of all, Muichiro's asleep—’
‘Asleep? Huh—?’
‘Papa!’ Ah, that was his mother. Mrs. Tokito could be heard moving closer to the phone.
‘What are you doing?’ she softly reprimanded, ‘It's almost three in the morning over there! Why are you disturbing Yui?’
‘Oh, no! Sorry about that, Yuichiro!’ Mr. Tokito’s voice became slightly smaller as he turned to his wife, ‘He does sound a little tired…’
Not from lack of sleep, no. I didn't need to sleep ever since I got turned.
Yuichiro decided to break up the small, slightly heated discussion between his parents. ‘It's okay, I was doing some work, anyway. Dad didn't disturb me.’ It wasn't wrong.
Mrs. Tokito’s gentle smile could be heard through her tone. ‘That’s good, but shouldn’t you be sleeping by eleven? You’ve always been very adamant on everyone having that sleep schedule. Even though you barely foll—’
‘I— um— this is urgent work I have to do.’
Mr. Tokito interrupted, ‘You’re one to talk, Mama. I had to practically drag you away from your laptop the other day!’
Feigning annoyance, Mrs. Tokito quipped, ‘It would’ve only taken me ten minutes at most to finish that melody. You know I don't take my work lightly.’
‘Ah, how horrifying, we have two workaholics in this house…!’
Yuichiro sighed heavily, deciding to jump in again to stop his father from talking. ‘Look, about the bonus—’
‘Oh, yes, I was thinking you two could go out to eat somewhere—’
‘No— Dad—! Listen to me!’ He huffed for a moment, allowing the silence to properly settle. ‘You two have already given us enough budget for the month, just— keep that bonus. You've worked so hard, you should be the one rewarded, not us. You should— I don't know— go to a fancy restaurant— or skydiving— or— visit landmarks. I don't know. Whatever the US has to offer.’
To much of Yuichiro's bewilderment, his parents' silence was broken by a sniff from his father, and a stifled giggle from his mother.
‘My sweet, sweet baby,’ hummed Mrs. Tokito, as her husband reduced himself to bawling incomprehensibly. ‘Do you know why we work so hard?’
Stunned by the nickname his mother used to use when he was six, Yuichiro needed her to repeat the question before answering. ‘I… so that you can earn money to live comfortably? Providing for your family?’
‘That’s not wrong… but that's not enough. We work hard because we want to bring our children happiness. Why would Papa and I spend money to go to a fancy dinner party, when seeing you two enjoying yourselves would bring so much more joy? All of our efforts contribute to filling your life with smiles and laughter. Trust me, Yui, when we say that we don't need the money. We're ready to dedicate our entire livelihood to our darling twins if it meant you two could wake up with smiles on your faces.’
‘And,’ added Mr. Tokito, though his voice was choked from tears, ‘don’t consider it a “sacrifice” or something like that. We do that because we love you two. You get me, kiddo?’
Yuichiro stopped pulling on his own hair for a split second. ‘Uh huh.’ The wind no longer felt cool. It seemed to draw out the air in his lungs, clouding his brain.
‘Go do something fun, okay? And make sure to take pictures!’ exclaimed his mother.
‘Get right in bed after this! Don't try staying up any longer!’ coughed his father.
The call ended. Yuichiro’s right arm fell, bringing with it his phone. The device tumbled onto the balcony’s smooth concrete. As if he was drunk, the monster stumbled weakly to the railing. He rested his forehead on that cold metal, his hands coming to settle on either side.
You don’t deserve any of this. You’re no better than the criminals that you killed. Criminals. Yes, you are one of them. Even before this, you were always one of them.
He moved his head forwards, so that his eyes could see the ground. It was only the second floor, yet—
How come the ground was so far away?
The distance confounded him. From the back corners of his mind, whispers emerged, slithering from the buried pile of negativity like snakes. Taunting. Tempting.
Why are you still burdening them with your existence? Why should anyone sacrifice anything for you? Oh, see, calling it a sacrifice, right after being told not to. You should know why you turned out this way.
The monster swallowed, now perching on his tiptoes. He couldn’t remember if there was any creature like him that died from having their brains split open. It wasn’t a weapon that’d cause it. Was gravity a weapon? It’d be natural.
You destroy yourself. You’re the only one eating yourself up from the inside.
A memory floated past the monster’s mind. Years ago, when everyone was still together, he went to his first theme park. At eleven, he had barely made it past the height requirement for the roller coaster. He remembered being strapped in with an extra seatbelt, due to his small posture. His twin brother got the same treatment, though he pouted and pulled at the fabric that was meant to protect him. Their father teased them, even though he got sick the easiest, burying his head in a bin the moment they disembarked that ride. Their mother was standing below, a camera ready to record that moment when they ultimately fell. She waved at them. He remembered that feeling of climbing the slope. How his heart pulled back, how his breathing shallowed, how he couldn’t move his head upwards due to the pull of gravity. The sun’s rays dispersed through the clouds that day. He remembered, he was staring at it for who knows how long, his back stuck to the leather seat. Then, they reached the top. They got to linger at the peak of that roller coaster, since they were sitting in the front seat. His father was muttering to himself, blood already draining out of his face. The air seemed to still. His twin brother was just as breathless as he was. That odd apprehension of knowing what would come next, yet unsure of how it would feel like. Then, it arrived without any warning. The start of the fall— the closing of the eyes— the tensing of the muscles— the tightening of the grip— the fun— the fear—
The wind was hot on his skin, stinging his eyelids, blowing his hair back. The nauseating rush of adrenaline, flowing through his blood, increasing his awareness of every sensation, every tissue, every atom. That human boy, with that human body.
He’d been chasing that sensation for a while. Before he turned. Or after, it didn’t matter.
There was a pause, a short pause, short enough to allow something to slip.
If it fell now… would that feeling come running back? That same terror, that same joy. Or, would it feel only regret before its head split into two on the cold, hard ground, and that nonhuman brain splattered everywhere?
It’d be hard to clean. It'd be very hard to clean properly. Brains stick. They’re gooey, slimy, and sticky.
It now had its elbows on the railing. The monster teetered on the edge. That feeling. That odd apprehension of knowing what would come next, yet not knowing how it would feel like. And… not knowing how it would end.
The phone buzzed.
Expression unreadable, the monster reached for that device, now realising that it had skidded to the edge of the balcony when it dropped.
A message. It was a message. Sent from the mother of this family.
Remember to tell Muichiro about the bonus!! Treat yourselves, you two deserve it!
Love, Mama.
P.S: Papa says he wants a vlog.
Those legs, so brave just moments ago, weakened, slumping to the ground. Yuichiro lifted his phone to his face, the coolness of the screen brought a strange contrast to his burning forehead. A strangled noise forced itself out of his throat, and tears squeezed themselves out of the corners of his eyes.
The boy’s shoulders shook as he wept.