Four-03: Third Degree - Part 2

        Something was wrong with the world or Amaya Mamori. It started with a thickening in the air that drew insects out of season. They were not ordinary bugs. These creatures were transparent, like ghosts, with bodies deformed beyond anything found in the natural world. By the time the sky was locked in an eternal sunset, the city was completely infested, but no one else noticed the insects even if their body was covered in a writhing mass of twitching, crawling bugs.

        Wards meant to protect against demons, which Amaya learned to create from one of her books on the supernatural, kept the alien insects at bay. She wrote the protective symbols on the inside of clothing tags to protect her family, disguised talismans written on small strips of paper with cloth covers to make them look like good luck charms for exams to aid her friends, and hid far more protective talismans among her possessions and throughout her home. The strange insects avoided the talismans as though repelled, and when touched by the charms, energy shaped like small bolts of blue lightning would strike the bugs, bursting them apart violently before their remains disappeared into nothing.

        Unfortunately, the protective talismans did not spare Amaya from watching the infestation grow worse with each passing day. Every class was torture, forcing her to sit still, regardless of how witnessing the insects cling and creep across the bodies of her classmates and teachers made her skin crawl. Ignoring something that was everywhere was impossible. She tried to make class more bearable with her talismans, but only her friends – who did not share the same homeroom with her – would accept her charms, and those she hid in the classroom were swiftly found by her peers and thrown away.

        Everything came to a head on the day one of the insects crawled into a classmate’s mouth during lunch. Amaya had been too slow to warn the victim and was unable to come up with an explanation for why she shouted while jumping up from her desk so quickly that she knocked over the chair with a clatter, drawing everyone’s attention. It was all she could do not to throw up after seeing the disgusting creature be willingly consumed by an unsuspecting victim.

        At the opposite end of the room near the door, Izumi Fukui, a short, thin girl with long luxurious black hair highlighted with streaks of pink, red, and purple, stared at Amaya as if the blue-eyed girl were a sideshow attraction. Every other student wore similar expressions on their faces, but they were not caught in a fit of subtle, uncontrollable twitching like Izumi. She was a pretty girl, but her beauty was tarnished as her eyes turned from brown to a bright, glowing red and the color disappeared from her skin before it shifted to a noxious pale blue. She let out a nasal laugh once the transformation was complete. “What’s wrong, Morbid Mamori?” Her voice, normally high-pitched, had a gravelly undercurrent to it that worsened Amaya’s nausea. “Did you see a ghost?”

        Laughter bubbled up from the rest of the class, followed by whispers that echoed the insulting moniker. Amaya ignored them, focusing completely on Izumi. The now red-eyed girl rose unsteadily, her body faintly shuddering with each small movement. Everyone overlooked Izumi’s behavior, even when she picked up a knife from her lunch, holding the blade the wrong way. Their gazes were away from her, directed exclusively towards Morbid Mamori.

        Amaya took deep gulps of air as she tried to get her nausea under control. The urge to come up with an excuse to deflect the attention of her classmates faded as adrenaline flooded her system. The way Izumi looked, moved, and sounded held a sense of wrongness that reminded Amaya of the uncanny valley. The fact that Izumi seemed more like an animated corpse paled in comparison to a far more intangible feeling that made Amaya’s senses scream of the danger. It was if Izumi now radiated malevolence, the promise of pain and death oozing from every pore of her altered body. The horror that Izumi had been transformed into something inhuman by one of the ghostly insects barely had time to sink in before Amaya saw the possessed girl raise the knife up above a classmate’s head and realized what Izumi, or rather the insect, intended to do.

        Amaya screamed as she lunged for Izumi, toppling over desks and chairs to make it across the classroom to reach the possessed girl in time. “Look out!” She grabbed Izumi’s arm just as the blue-skinned girl brought the knife down. The blade nicked Amaya’s school uniform, slicing a thin line through the material, as the surprisingly intense force of Izumi’s swing nearly sent Amaya to her knees. The talisman hidden within the charm tied to Amaya’s wrist crackled and shot miniature bolts of energy into Izumi’s face, making the red-eyed girl shriek and stagger back. Izumi dropped the knife and toppled back onto her chair before crashing to the floor, slipping from Amaya’s grip. The blue of Izumi’s skin faded in seconds, along with the red from her eyes, as she coughed up smoke and the burnt remains of the insect that had entered her before it disappeared into nothing.

        With the threat over, Amaya noticed how quiet the classroom had become. Everyone was gawking at her. She could feel their stares burning into her back. She was painfully aware how it must have appeared to eyes that witnessed only her actions and nothing of Izumi’s possession. She dared to turn around, seeking out some small sign that anyone might have noticed something odd about Izumi’s behavior, but there was no friendly face to be found among the sea of accusing eyes. The only explanation she could think to give was weak. “There… there was a bug.”

        No one believed her. Amaya did not expect them to. The teachers were disappointed in her behavior, but lenient only due to her excellent grades and attendance. The faculty was willing to write off the incident as a result of being overwhelmed by stress brought upon by rigorous studying for entrance exams. She had to suffer through a stern lecture about what constituted as proper behavior for a student of Ugetsu Junior High, deliver a formal apology to Izumi in front of the entire class, and thoroughly clean the mess she made in the classroom, both after lunch and when classes ended for the day.

        Cleaning the entire classroom alone took Amaya hours. Izumi and her friends had taken it upon themselves to make her task even more difficult before they left by “accidentally” spilling paint they supposedly borrowed from the art club all over a few desks and the floor after the teacher departed for the day. The group of girls did not even bother to hide their giggles when they left. By the time Amaya finished, her fingers itched from the cleaner and reeked of chemicals and artificial lemon.

        As much as Amaya hated to be stuck in the classroom, she lingered after her punishment was finished. She leaned against the windows overlooking the back of the school and turned her eyes skyward. The black clouds that blocked out the sun appeared to ooze red light like blood, and rumbled with lightning that never touched ground. Towards the horizon, instead of the sunset, shadows shaped like grasping hands reached blindly towards the heavens, radiating a golden light. These hands appeared as the sun began to set, disappearing when the red-tinged sunlight came back with the dawn. At night, the hands were silhouettes of black against a starless night, only visible by the strange light that surrounded them.

        “I can’t live like this,” Amaya whispered as she closed her eyes. Reality had changed, growing increasingly terrifying by the day. Everyone around her had noticed her escalation in anxiety, but not the reason why. None of them had the slightest suspicion that anything was wrong with the world. The worst part was that she could not tell them the reason for her distress. They would never believe her. Being the only person who could see, hear, and even feel strange things no one else could… Was that not the very definition of insanity? “What am I going to do?”

        Amaya wiped away the dampness from her eyes, only to make her eyes sting and tear up even more due to the cleaner fumes that clung to her fingers. As she furiously wiped at her face with the ribbon hanging from her collar, she suddenly felt glad she was likely the last one left in the entire building. If any of her classmates saw her sniffling so miserably, they would have jumped at the chance to taunt and laugh at her.

        When her eyes were clear again, Amaya looked back outside, seeking answers that she doubted would ever come. Movement out of the corner of her eye caused her to look down to see two people near one of the windows two floors below. Anger flowed hot through her veins like magma when she instantly recognized one of them as Izumi. The other person was a tall man with brown hair gelled into spikes who wore a leather jacket covered in belts, a matching set of pants, and a pair of dark shades. Even without the cliché bad biker outfit to tip her off, Amaya felt certain that this man was trouble.

        Amaya had no intention of finding out what the pair intended to do by breaking into the school after hours, yet she found herself hesitating to grab her school bag and race for the front doors. Something about the man’s appearance bothered her. To her growing horror, it dawned on her that the man’s hair was not spiky – he had horns sticking out of his head. She covered her mouth to stifle a gasp. A demon!

        Before Amaya could back away from the window, the demon tilted his head upwards in her direction. He lowered his shades and winked one glowing red eye at her before gesturing at her with one crooked finger.

        Amaya pushed herself away from the glass and out of the demon’s view, heart pounding, as a million thoughts raced through her mind at lightning speed. The demon knew she was there. Why was Izumi with him? Were they working together? If they could not pry open a window, they were likely to break one in order to get inside. Did Izumi bring the demon here because of Amaya? Did this have anything to do with the insect possessing Izumi earlier? Was Izumi working with demons now because of that insect and was bringing one to kill her?

        Amaya slapped her cheeks repeatedly in an effort to put a halt to her chaotic thought process. Get a grip on yourself! You killed that bug and Fukui’s skin isn’t blue anymore. Fukui can’t see demons, ghosts, and crap like that. She can’t know he’s a demon. He must look like some biker from a bar to her. She doesn’t know she’s in danger.

        The knowledge weighed on Amaya, feeling akin to a lump of iron in her stomach. Izumi was the last person in the world who would believe anything Amaya told her. Even if there was someone left in the building at this hour that did not hate Amaya, she doubted that person would believe in demons either. Calling the police was pointless for that very reason, and they likely would arrive too late even if she came up with a convincing excuse that did not involve mentioning killer demons. If she ran downstairs to save Izumi, she would just be exposing herself to danger. The demon could kill Amaya, and if she survived, she would likely get into further trouble, maybe even arrested for assault if Izumi was injured.

        Amaya fled for the stairs, bag clutched tightly with both hands. In her mind she replayed memories of every nasty trick and name Izumi inflicted upon her. Izumi had tripped Amaya down these very stairs on three separate occasions. It was because of Izumi that the entire school called Amaya “Morbid Mamori,” among other things. Izumi was the culprit behind the lies about Amaya scrawled on the bathroom walls. Izumi stole from Amaya’s bag, put nasty surprises in Amaya’s locker and lunches, and wrote vile insults on Amaya’s desk at least twice a week. Izumi had gone as far as attempting to convince the faculty to expel Amaya from school due to the very rumors she started. More unforgivably, Izumi made it her mission to ruin Amaya’s friendships with slander and succeeded more than once. Izumi ensured that being nice to “Morbid Mamori” was akin to social suicide at Ugetsu Junior High. Amaya had little doubt that Izumi would leave her to die at the hands of a demon and laugh at her funeral because she was stupid enough to come save the girl whose mission in life was to make her completely miserable.

        Despite knowing all this, Amaya still found herself on the ground floor, racing not for the front doors, but the classroom she saw Izumi and the demon trying to break into. As much as Amaya hated Izumi, as well as she knew that she was setting herself up for something terrible, she was also absolutely certain that she would never forgive herself if she simply stood by and allowed someone to die, even if that person was Izumi. I’m so stupid! I’m going to get myself killed!

        Amaya flung the classroom’s sliding door open as quickly as she could, practically throwing it off the rails as it clattered hard against the wall. “Fukui!” The excuse she invented to convince Izumi to leave with her fled her mind as the thick air of the classroom hit her full in the face. A pungent musk assaulted her sense of smell, sending her reeling back. She found the scent hard to describe, yet strangely familiar. In the second it took to identify what it was, she noticed the state of Izumi and the demon. Her jaw went slack.

        Izumi moaned as she lay on the teacher’s desk, arching upwards into the demonic biker’s hands. Her clothes were mostly scattered across the floor, with only her underwear left to spare any sense of modesty she had left. She did not notice Amaya’s interruption, her eyes glazed as she stared off into space, her expression skewed in rapture that was visible to the blue-eyed girl despite the distance between them and the dim lighting of the classroom.

        The illicit scene was the last thing Amaya expected to see when she confronted Izumi and the demon. She stood frozen, fighting her instinctive urge to flee from the demon and the scandalous moment he and Izumi shared, as she struggled to cope with this unforeseen turn of events.

        The demon ran his long tongue along Izumi’s face. His tongue grew in length with each passing moment, slithering down her shoulder like a snake. He looked up at Amaya and curved his mouth upward in an unnaturally rubbery smile, flashing white teeth that might have appeared perfectly even had there not been a transparent overlay of much longer and more deadly looking teeth on top of it. He rolled his tongue back into his mouth so that he could speak in a throaty purr. “Join us, Little Girl. There’s always room for one more.”

        The smell grew stronger and with it Amaya’s discomfort. The room felt far too stuffy and warm, the thick air rolling out into the hallway through the doorway in waves, as if the musk had a life of its own and was attempting to ensnare her as well. Maybe that strange air was why it was suddenly so hard for her to think, rather than simply the shock of seeing Izumi cavorting with a demon. She knew that she had to do something quickly before the demon did something far worse than… apparently have consensual, if sickening, relations with Izumi.

        Somehow, Amaya managed to force herself to speak, though her voice kept cracking. “F… Fukui. C-come he-here.”

        The demon extended his finger towards Amaya. “No, you come. Here.” When he drew his finger back, Amaya felt as though something hooked itself into her midsection and forced her forward two steps. The talisman on her wrist sparked and struck the thin line of red energy that Amaya failed to notice earlier, severing the connection it had to her stomach. The demon frowned and rose up, removing his hands from Izumi’s body despite the enraptured girl’s complaints.

        When Amaya saw the demon turn towards her, she gave up fighting the urge to flee and ran from the classroom as fast as she could go. She fumbled through her bag to find her cell phone. Her reasons for not using it to call the police seemed infinitely foolish as she ran from the perverted demon. It did not matter if she had no idea how to get the police down to the school in a hurry or to take the threat seriously. She needed help and she needed it now.

        Amaya scooped out her phone and began to dial when she collided with someone emerging from the teacher’s lounge. She fell to the ground and hit her shoulder hard while her bag and cell phone skidded across the floor in separate directions.

        The man Amaya ran into merely staggered back a couple steps, despite his advanced age, thanks to his excessive girth. He readjusted the displaced black toupee on his head then straightened the lapel of his tweed jacket as he gave Amaya a reproachful look. “What are you doing here? Don’t you know the school is closed to students at this hour?”

        Amaya lunged for her fallen cell phone, which rested just behind the man, but he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her upward onto her feet. She recognized him one of the school’s history teachers – Nobusuke Abe. “Police! Call the police!”

        Nobusuke frowned at Amaya, but did not let go even when she struggled to grab her cell phone. “The police? What for?”

        Amaya practically bit her tongue to stop herself from screaming in hysterics that a demon was after her. She fumbled for something, anything that she might say to get him to believe her that they were in serious danger, and surprised herself when she came up with the answer almost immediately. “There’s a rapist after me! He’s got Fukui! We have to get out of here and call the police!”

        A spray of red blinded Amaya. She covered her face and fumbled back, escaping Nobusuke’s grip as it finally went slack. The heel of her shoe skidded across something slick and she fell hard onto her back, stunning her for a moment as the wind rushed out of her chest. Once she regained her wits, she swabbed viciously at her eyes to clear them, only to regret her action a moment later. A scream tore from her throat when she saw Nobusuke’s head resting beside her right arm, while his body lay sprawled to her left.

        The demon, who she would later know as Horumon, stood not far behind Amaya. He clucked his tongue and wagged his fingers at her. Claws stretched out from the tips of each finger, each the size and shape of a rapier, and dripping with a fresh coat of blood. “Naughty, naughty, Little Girl. You shouldn’t call people names if you expect them to treat you nice. Now I’ll have to punish you for being so naughty.”

        Amaya could feel another scream building at the back of her throat as she scrabbled away from Nobusuke’s corpse and the growing pool of blood. Her eyes darted around to relocate her cell phone, but she quickly gave it up for lost as Horumon drew ever closer. She clamored to her feet, nearly tumbling over herself in her haste to flee the demon, who further mocked her by pursuing her at a leisurely pace.

        Horumon let out a derisive snort as he watched Amaya’s frantic movements. “What? What kind of self-respecting Japanese schoolgirl wears shorts underneath her skirt? That just totally kills the fantasy.”

        For a brief instant, Amaya thought of a retort she could make involving modesty and boys with cameras, but the words would not form. Fear stole her voice and drove her on to run from Horumon without daring to look back.

        Horumon’s mocking laughter echoed unnaturally off the walls, the sound ringing in Amaya’s ears. “Let’s take care of that, shall we? Come on back to me, Little Girl. I promise we’ll all have a real good time.”

        Amaya tried to tune out Horumon’s voice and focused all her energy on reaching the rear exit, which was the closest way out of the building. She did not slow down as she drove her elbow into the door to force it open, only to collide hard against it instead. She staggered back due to the jolt of pain that shot from her elbow to her hand and shoulder, cradling her damaged arm. Hysteria hit her as she realized the rear exit was locked for the night, nearly causing her to forget that she did not need a key to unlock it. She reached for the lock, but a sudden flash of movement forced her to draw her hand back quickly before five long and deadly claws raked against the door, destroying the locking mechanism so that the door would no longer open. She turned, knowing that she would find the demon looming over her with a repugnant smirk plastered on his face.

        “Now then,” Horomon said. “Where were we?” There was less than an arm’s length separating him from Amaya, but she knew that could change at any time. His gaze roved across her body as if he were trying to devour her with just his eyes, focusing primarily on her chest. “Down south might be a disappointment, but up north you know what a man wants. You must have drunk a lot of milk to get a nice pair like that. I’ll bet the boys around here can’t get enough of them.”

        Amaya burned from anger, shame, and something she refused to contemplate. Despite the sharp horns, fangs, and claws, Horumon was a demon whose affinity was sex. His human appearance was masculine and handsome, and he had a velvet voice to attract women. However, Amaya knew it was not these features that drew his prey, but the pungent scent of sex that oozed from every pore. She realized that pheromones, likely supernaturally enhanced, were the reason why his presence made it difficult to think, even to run away. She squeezed her injured elbow as hard as she could, focusing on the pain to keep her grounded, as she sought some means of escape before all hope was lost.

        “Seems a shame to cover them up like that,” Horumon said. A quick swipe of a single claw split her blouse and the ribbon down the middle, stopping just short of her crossed arms, to expose her cleavage and the top of her bra.

        Amaya acted part on instinct and part from quick thinking. She cupped the talisman in her palm and slapped it across Horumon’s face, aiming for his eyes. He did not block her blow, likely assuming that the attack would be ineffective, only to howl in agony as the energy of the protective charm seared his flesh.

        Amaya did not stop to see how much damage the talisman caused. The second after she struck, she was running, ducking under Horumon’s arms to avoid his terrible claws, and racing for the main entrance. She avoided the puddle of blood as best she could before hopping over what she forced herself to think of debris while praying she would not fall again. A rumbling started back the way she came, hitting her as the roar of an inhuman beast that rattled her bones as she reached the entryway.

        The exit was just in sight when a shriek of metal to her right set off every instinctive alarm Amaya had, pushing her to dive for the entrance just before the lockers came crashing down around her. She hit the floor hard, skidding to a stop against the front doors, and saw all of the lockers sliced neatly in twain, their upper halves scattered apart everywhere along with countless shoes and other knickknacks students kept squirreled away inside the lockers. Horumon stood at the center of the carnage, the left half of his face black, centered on the burnt ruin of his eye. The murderous expression that distorted his face to unnatural proportions filled Amaya with more fear than the realization that, had she not dodged his attack, his claws would have diced the upper half of her body into various sized pieces like the lockers.

        “I’m through playing nice,” Horumon said. All of the allure and innuendo were gone from his words, leaving behind a rough voice that sounded as though he was speaking through a throat filled with gravel. “I’m going to make you scream.” He spread his claws apart like a fan. “And bleed.” He stepped on one of the lockers, crushing it flat beneath his boot. “And beg.”

        Amaya groped for purchase as she tried to get to her feet before Horumon’s next attack. One hand clutched at the door while another snatched up a fallen umbrella, which she used to push herself up quickly. The demon waited for her to be standing again before lashing out with his foot, kicking her in the stomach and sending her hurtling backwards out through the doors. It was a small mercy for Amaya that the front entrance was still unlocked when she flew through it, but the momentum carried her to the stone stairs on the other side. The edges of each step dug into her with every collision, as she tumbled to the ground.

        Amaya had only a vague sense of the passage of time, as she lay unmoving on the concrete path at the base of the stairs. Somehow, she managed to keep hold of the umbrella, though it did little to shield her from the repeated impacts. Everything hurt. Her mouth was full of liquid that tasted like copper, which she spat onto the ground between ragged breaths.

        Twisted laughter reminded Amaya of the immediate danger, and somehow she forced herself to roll onto her side. She tried to use the umbrella to prop her body up but Horumon stomped his boot on her back, knocking the air from her lungs as he crushed her against the ground with force that was just short of cracking her ribs. Her chest strained to take in air, each breath sending a fresh wave of agony through her battered body.

        “You know,” Horumon said, his tone casual despite the harshness of his voice, “I like you. I do. Oh, not your personality. Of course not. That needs a little work. I like your jugs. I’m sure I could do great things with them… after a little more tenderizing.” He raised his foot and delivered a swift kick to Amaya’s side, sending her painfully rolling off the path and into the grass. His mocking laughter followed her.

        A dark haze clouded Amaya’s mind that had nothing to do with Horumon’s supernaturally enhanced pheromones. Instinctively she wanted to retreat from the torment her body was suffering due to the repeated injuries, but she knew that if she did then she would die a slow and agonizing death at the hands of a demon. She focused on the protective talisman, which had some point became sandwiched between her hand and the hilt of the umbrella. The talisman hurt Horumon, significantly damaged him. It was her only hope.

        Amaya recalled the passages of the book she read to make the talisman. Will would make the protective charm stronger, the book said. If she could focus enough to will the talisman to become a mighty shield to protect her from another attack, then maybe she would survive.

        Horumon approached with measured steps, drawing out the suffering of his prey. “You know, I’m not such a bad guy. Really. If you beg me sweetly enough, then maybe I’ll treat you real nice, like your friend. I promise you’ll feel really good before I’m through.” His laughter was cruel, proving his words nothing more than lies.

        Amaya acted without thinking when Horumon’s hand reached for her, opening the umbrella with the press of a button to form a makeshift barrier between them. She did not expect it to last longer than a nanosecond against the demon’s strength and sharp claws. However, the rubber tips glowed a brilliant blue and crackled with energy that spread to reach the other points, forming a circle that expanded into a light blue dome that covered the entirety of the umbrella. When Horumon’s hand came down, the umbrella fell from Amaya’s hand, but it remained undamaged thanks to the shield encasing it.

        Horumon stared at the barrier that separated him from his prey, too startled by its presence to do much else. “What the hell?”

        Amaya forced her body to move, knowing she had only one chance to retaliate. She snatched up the umbrella and thrust it in Horumon’s face to both distract and prevent him from seeing her movements. She drew back her hand that clutched the charm in a death grip, and then threw it forward with all her might at the only vulnerable spot within reach, praying that the talisman would cause the same amount of damage there that the charm did to his face despite her fingers and his pants preventing direct contact.

        The scream that erupted from Horumon was deafening and high-pitched as Amaya’s fist struck home between his legs. The talisman, powered by her will and Spirit Energy, created far more damage than a mere impact, which sent the demon to his knees. Instinctively he reached down to protect the damaged area, striking the umbrella and knocking it and the girl who held it in a death grip back.

        Tragically, Horumon forgot to retract his claws before clutching his crotch.

        Despite everything Amaya suffered, a thin laugh tinged with hysteria escaped her when she saw the damage Horumon inflicted upon himself. Her inappropriate giggles did not last long, breaking off into harsh coughs that reminded her that she was still trapped in the midst of a life and death struggle.

        Now that Horumon was on the ground, Amaya had the opportunity to strike. She brought the umbrella down around his head, closing it as best she could while he was still stunned. To her relief, the shield altered its shape along with the umbrella, changing from a half circle to a more oval shape. She risked removing the charm from her wrist and tied it around the demon’s neck tightly, praying that between the shield covering his head and the talisman bound tightly to his throat that he might be unable to breathe and thus choke to death.

        A wildly lashing claw forced Amaya to throw herself backwards, away from Horumon, though not unscathed. The tip of one of the claws drew a line of pain along the side of her neck, adding more blood to her uniform to join the stains made earlier from Nobusuke’s death. She pressed her hand against the wound to staunch the blood loss as she crawled backwards, away from the thrashing, shrieking demon.

        The shield did not change shape, though logic indicated that it should have opened up easily to allow Horumon to escape. The tips remained closely together, drawing a glowing ring at the edge of the dome that was too small for him to move his head through. The end of the shield just barely covered where Amaya tied the charm to his throat, preventing him from removing it as it charred his skin and filled the air with a repugnant smell of burnt, spoiled meat stored inside of a filthy restroom.

        As Amaya watched Horumon howl and attack the shield in a desperate effort to shatter it, she mused that his actions were very foolish. If the barrier disappeared then there would be nothing to shield his head from his claws. The result would be much like the self-inflicted wound to his crotch. A part of her wished for it to happen.

        The light of the shield disappeared and Amaya heard a sound that reminded her of skewering fruit for kabobs, accompanied by the cracking noise of both umbrella and bone breaking. Horumon’s body twitched, but they were small, involuntary movements. He would never move his body again thanks to the claws buried deeply through the umbrella and its contents.

        Everything was silent and still, save for Amaya’s labored breathing. At first, she did not know how to deal with what just happened. The demon that attacked her, who tried to rape and kill her, was dead. He died in the exact way she wished. She half expected him to suddenly jump up and reveal that it was all a cruel joke, or that he would suddenly come back to life despite the perforations to his brain, and attack her like a monster from a horror movie. It was possible that he was waiting for the second she turned her back on him.

        Amaya spent much of her remaining strength to stand, hunched and unsteady. Somehow, she managed to walk without her feet collapsing underneath her. God… please… please just let it all be over.

        Unthinkingly, Amaya’s eyes turned heavenward, and for the first time in days, she saw the stars. The sky was finally clear again of both clouds and insects.

        Amaya paused to take in a breath then let it out slowly. “I didn’t want to go back and look for my cell phone with Mr. Abe’s body there, so I found a phone booth and called an ambulance. I played up that I was in shock about the whole thing and just told the police that a male assailant attacked the school with a bladed weapon.” She rubbed her throat where the claw had sliced her, which lay hidden beneath her choker. The wound was gone, but the memory lingered.

        Amaya cleared her throat before continuing, as she was not used to talking for so long. “The news talked about it as if Horumon was just some deranged psychopath with a katana who committed suicide after attacking two unnamed students and killing a teacher. I have no idea how much they could really see of what happened.” The corner of her mouth twisted, as though she tasted something unpleasant. “Fukui was so spaced out from that gas attack he used that she didn’t remember anything. I don’t know what she told the police, but when classes started up again, she made up a bunch of nonsense about what happened that was based off of a lot of different movies, which always ended with her being the one to convince ‘Mr. Samurai’ to commit ritual suicide to preserve his honor or hers, depending on the telling.”

        Judging by the expression Amaya wore, Kurama suspected that the tales Izumi wove did not paint the Spirit Detective in a positive light. “That sounds like quite an ordeal,” he said, his tone sympathetic. “I can understand why you would feel reluctant to fight again after coming so close to death.”

        Amaya tucked her arms against her chest and nodded. “I know King Yama chose me to be Spirit Detective… I know that pretty much means I’m destined to be a great warrior for good or something like that… but if I didn’t make that charm… If I didn’t discover the power of Territory… If I didn’t luck out over and over again that night, I wouldn’t be a fighter or a detective – I’d just be dead!”

        “But you survived,” Kurama said gently. “Luck plays a part in all our lives, and between that and your quick thinking, you managed to save two lives that day. You shouldn’t be so quick to dismiss the significance of what you did.”

        Amaya brushed her hand across her face then raked back her bangs as she considered Kurama’s words. “Sorry,” she said, her voice quiet. “I shouldn’t be complaining to you like this. We barely know each other and I’m just dumping all this drama on you.” She managed a weak smile. “I guess this is just really the first chance I’ve had to talk to anyone about that night or just, well, anything supernatural… without being afraid that they’ll think I’m completely insane.”

        “It’s quite alright,” Kurama said. “I can understand the frustration of being unable to discuss certain matters with anyone, particularly a subject of pressing importance.”

        Amaya smiled more easily as Kurama did. “Thank you for listening, and for being so understanding. You really are such a great guy.”

        Though Kurama was no stranger to flattery, he enjoyed it all the same, and chuckled softly. He only felt the faintest traces of guilt that his interest in listening to Amaya talk about herself was not for her sake, but because he needed information Yama was determined he not uncover. Such an emotion was easy to dismiss in light of the circumstances. “Well, I wouldn’t go quite that far.”

        “I would,” Amaya said, “and did.” She took a step forward, her eyes determined and her smile bright. “I’m really glad to have met you, and Botan.” Her expression faltered faintly. “I’ll admit I’m scared about fighting demons again, and I don’t know why King Yama thinks I’m the right person…” She managed to strengthen her smile. “But I’m very happy that I’m not alone anymore.”

        The direction their conversation had taken was a touch more personal than Kurama intended it to go, but it benefitted him in a number of ways to have Amaya be more at ease in his presence. “You needn’t worry. Given what you’ve told me, I’m sure that all you need is experience in order to improve your skills. I’m sure you’ll fulfill King Yama’s expectations perfectly.”

        Amaya felt hesitant to believe Kurama’s words, but her worries did not erase the smile on her face this time. “You think so?”

        “Of course,” Kurama said.

        Amaya sighed and closed her eyes, her posture growing relaxed, as she held her hand over her heart. “Wow… I can’t believe how relieved I’m feeling right now.” Her voice held an undercurrent of laughter as she looked to Kurama again. “I guess I really needed to get all that off my chest.” Her smile broadened. “I promise, I’ll do my best, and try to believe in myself like you, Botan, and King Yama believe in me.”

        “I’m glad I could be of assistance,” Kurama said. “I’m sure they’ll be pleased to hear that as well.” He took the agreeable silence they shared as an opportunity to evaluate the conversation thus far. Amaya was rather forthcoming about everything, likely due to the repression she faced towards her spiritual side for so long. Now that he had earned what seemed to be no small amount of trust, he had the opportunity to probe more deeply. He simply needed to choose what to ask next, and which questions were best left for a later time, so as not to ruin everything by causing the dark haired girl to grow suspicious of his intentions.

        The opportunity vanished before Kurama could make his decision, as he sensed the presence of a familiar energy approaching their location rapidly. He looked towards the sky as Botan flew towards them on her oar at top speed. Upon her approach, he saw the worried look on her face, and all the warmth of his conversation with Amaya and plans of prying for further information faded.

        Amaya noticed Kurama’s sudden inattention and followed his gaze to find what he was looking at. Her eyes widened as she spotted Botan seconds before the reaper landed lightly in front of them. “Botan! Good afternoon.”

        Botan grimaced and made her oar disappear with the flick of her wrist. “Not so good I’m afraid. It seems we’ve already got a case on our hands. Demons are snatching up people in various parts of the city and we need to stop them before anyone else gets taken.”

        Amaya felt the bottom drop out of her stomach. For a moment, she remembered the story she just finished telling to Kurama, and instinctively glanced at the redhead, who met her gaze briefly.

        “We can take care of them,” Kurama said as much to Amaya as he did to Botan.

        Amaya steeled her nerves, reminding herself that she now had people who truly believed in her, including in the parts of her that she had once been frightened to show. She was not alone anymore. She was going to be a better person, a stronger person, because this too was her brand new start. She needed to step up and be the hero that everyone was depending on her to become. “R-right.”

        Amaya turned her gaze back to Botan and did her best to feel as confident as she somehow made her voice sound. “Let’s go.”