Obsession
Chapter 1: Obsession
I had always loved Aliens; it was no stretch of the imagination to assume that space is cool. Looking out and wondering just what exactly could be beyond us. Monsters, advanced civilizations, other humans. What possibilities were there out there in the great unknown? Who knows? How the hell should I know? In all honesty, I’m just a guy with poor eyesight. I know I said I loved aliens or whatever, but I love the occult: Old folk legends, close encounters of the third kind, cryptids, etc. it was all something that grabbed my attention; probably to the detriment of my grades. I can feel it; we’re getting closer to an actual meeting with a real alien species: maybe I’m overthinking this after all the manga I’ve read in the last few days, but whatever, come what may. The only question is…will they be peaceful or some Mars Attacks situation.
Raising my hand, I swiftly pulled the door open. The students immediately stopped what they were doing and focused solely on me.
“Ando-kun! You made it!” they all shouted. Rushing from their seats to surround me with hugs. “We missed you!”
“I...I was sick for one day, and you guys think I died?” the circle of friends disbanded. They all seemed to bounce up and down on their feet. In the mix was a short child-like girl who would’ve mistaken for a child if not for the sailor’s mouth she had. She was the first to break the news.
“Itoi thought the Flatwood’s Monster got you,” she spoke, pointing to the chubby student behind her. The student sheepishly looked away, embarrassed. “I mean, he thinks that about everything.”
“H-hey, maybe it could’ve gotten him? I mean, you thought Molemen got him, Hibari!” the argument was near explosive, Hibari ready to get on a desk and tackle Itoi without a second warning. The sheepish boy Itoi furiously apologized, bowing his head and stammering incomprehensibly.
“Both of you! Oh, my lord! As you can see, I’m alive and well.”
Beside me stood a tall, lanky girl. She had a soft face and long hair down to her shoulders. She was a beauty to behold but had a problem with self-confidence. She lightly tugged on my sleeve. Pointing to the table, everyone sat around when I entered. Without a word, she pulled me around the table. There she pointed to a map on the table: a glimmer in her eye told me she was proud of it, but she couldn’t form the words with her mouth. She excitedly pointed at every small red dot. She would trace the map, tapping on every prefecture of japan and several different pictures: granted, these pictures seemed to have been taken with either super shaky hands or were just blurry photos. One photo was one any Japanese person would’ve recognized—a blurry woman in an even blurrier image. Just from the picture alone, I could tell who or what was supposed to be seen here.
Clear as day, Kagome had captured the Kuchisake-Onna on film. How she’s still alive is another question but just seeing this was crazy; I don’t know how but an overly adventurous part of me needed to see where this photo was taken to investigate. In the photo, a few key identifiers had tipped me off: her face mask, trenchcoat, and rusty pair of scissors.
Asking my question with the poise of a newborn deer; despite my fumbling words and general lack of ability to speak to a cute girl. Kagome eventually relented: I learned that Kagome had taken the photo in Shibuya through a series of notes she handed me. Maybe I was being careless for the sake of it. Perhaps I wanted to see a yokai face to face.
“Ah, is anyone else using the camera today?” I asked, and Kagome shook her head. The argument Kagome and I dodged by wandering to a different portion of the classroom soon quieted down. Itoi and Hibari exchanged sour glances. They gathered around the table with us and focused on Kagome’s map.
They all pointed at different yokai hotspots and laughed, eventually joking about how Kagome should make a map similar to the one on the table for ufo sightings. Kagome shook her head, indicating with a second note that she had no interest in alien sightings. Everyone sighed, waving her off with a chuckle. This was just how it was in the Occult Club; we had fights sometimes, but we were all friends at the end of the day. The meeting concluded with everyone agreeing I would be the one taking the camera and going off to Shibuya. With that revelation, we all grabbed our backpacks and went. It felt exhilarating to be so hot on the trail of a yokai to validate all those nights of occult research. If Yokai are real, who knows just what else is lying in wait just beyond our understanding. If they’re real…then maybe other cryptids are real too! Who knows, maybe we’ll see the Dover Demon crawls its way through the crossing or Nessie off the coast of Okinawa. The possibilities and excitement I built up in my head were swiftly dashed against the rocks. The only thing that waited for me was an empty well-lit lot. Even if she was here, the thought that a well-known yokai would just hang around a lot for this moment where a skinny high school kid just happens. Sighing, I turned around, hopes dashed and defeated. I saw no point in even being here still. Besides, the only thing that could make me jump out of my skin was the yakuza, so hanging around Shibuya’s backstreets any longer than I needed would swiftly turn…dangerous. Wandering back through the narrow alleys and side streets, I was soon grabbed and pulled into a nearby store without warning. This was it…the yakuza got me, and soon I would be dragged into some back room and beaten until I gave them every last yen I had or worse, just killed outright. Above stood a man with long hair and an eye patch covering his left eye. He gazed down at me before tossing me away, swearing loudly.
“OI! MIYAZAKI, THIS ISN’T OUR GUY!!!” The man gently patted my head. “Sorry, kiddo thought you were someone else.” he tilted his head. He raised a hand and pointed at the camera I wore around my neck. “What you doing out here with that? You ain’t snapping nudey pics of gals changing, are ya?”
“N..No, sir”
The man started laughing. It was as if what I said was the funniest comedy routine on the planet, but as he continued to laugh, I got the sense that he was laughing at me and not what I said.
“Of course not! You were probably out here to snap pics of Yokai or malevolent spirits,” the man doubled over in laughter.
“Uh….that’s why I’m here. I…I’m a part of the Occult club at my school.”
“Occult club~” the guy winked. “Is that some sort of code you kids use nowadays?”
“No, sir”
“You’re a funny guy. Say, what’s your name, kid?”
“Ando; Shoji Ando”
“I’m Gonta!” he spoke, shaking my hand, and with nearly no effort, he lifted me to my feet. “Gonta Michizane! Say it's getting late. Want me to walk you home?” the man reached into his suit pocket. He gave me a sinister look as though he would be ready to kill someone had I said the word. I watched as the outline of his hand gripped an item inside his coat. There was a click an indicator that whatever thing was ready to use. It could be anything in his jacket: a lighter, maybe an old flip phone. I shouldn’t just jump to conclusions. However, my mind began to race, the pieces filled into place. This wasn’t some ordinary businessman with who I was conversing. The man himself, the click, the outline of his hand: I realized what he had inside his suit. A gun; was just there inside his suit despite the ban on them. For as long as I’ve been alive, firearms have been restricted. Hell, I haven’t even seen a gun aside from manga, anime, and some western comics. To think this Yakuza guy has one has me in utter disillusion as if a fundamental truth I once knew was shattered. The Yakuza: Gonta stared at me; the guy must’ve been completely bewildered watching as a high school student had a literal existential crisis before him. Lord knows how long I had lost myself in thought. I must’ve gone completely spiral-eyed just thinking of the possibility that he had a gun.
“Oi kid! You good?” he prodded my face a couple times with a cigarette before I snapped to my senses. “Did ya go all spacey? Do you need an ambulance?”
“Huh? No…I’m fine.”
“If you’re wondering if I have a gun-” he stopped and reached again into his coat. The item he pulled out was not the firearm I had imagined; instead, it was an old, somewhat beat-up lighter. He flipped it on and off. The flame was small orange yet weak; it flickered as if the lighter was grasping at what little remnants of life it had. He closed it a final time and breathed a long sigh. “Yeah, I actually can’t keep guns on me anymore. Boss’s orders.” He mournfully lifted his hand, I hadn’t even noticed when he hoisted me to my feet, but he was missing his pinky. It was just missing. Hell, if he told me he never had it, to begin with, I would’ve believed him. Throughout our conversation, he explained that he had fucked around and found out one too many times, and his boss really didn’t like that. I also understood that despite his “yakuza-ness,” he was genuine. He sighed and stuck a cigarette in his mouth. I gathered he didn’t want me asking about his missing eye, and far be it from me to pry into the life of a Yakuza tough. Towards the end of our conversation, he asked to be my convoy, a security detail walking me home as the sun went down.
“No sir, that’s…that’s ok.” I meekly replied. Gonta laughed. Turning him down would be far more…complicated than first encountered.
“Oh, come on! Live a little kid!” I refused yet again, but Gonta didn’t want to take no for an answer. I have no idea how in the world I had gone from high school student to buddies with the yakuza so fast, but the whiplash was fatal.
“No one will want to mess with ya if a yakuza is walking with ya” The man nudged me with his elbow. At this moment, I began hoping that I had run into the Kuchisake-Onna. That would be far less terrifying than dealing with a yakuza. I mean, if she did attack me I would have substantial proof she exists, and thus my bucket list would’ve been complete. I straightened myself and spoke as clearly as I could.
“Oh no I…I can walk home myself, thank…thank you, though” I listened to myself talk, hoping there was no way my words could be misconstrued with doublespeak in the subtext. If my words came off even slightly wrong, that’s curtains. I watched his face for any subtle tells. Eventually, Gonta nodded and took a long drag off his cigarette. The way he nodded indicated an unspoken. “Alright”
“Sorry for dragging ya into Yakuza business.” the man urged me to leave with a wave of his hand and stern gaze. It appeared our conversation was over, and I couldn’t be happier. I grabbed my backpack without hesitation and got there as quickly as possible. I made my way through the crossing without being swept up by the evening scramble. I can’t exactly describe why but seeing the once lively crossing devoid of pedestrians and vehicles. It froze my blood. The air around the crossing ran stagnant. A chill ran down my spine as I looked around the vacant crossing. If the Kuchisake-Onna was real, this was the pitch-perfect conditions for it to come out and attack. I don’t want to sound crazy, but I have a camera on me, and I’m already flunking out of school, so I don’t have much to lose except camera film. If I was attacked minding my own business by a yokai due to my own carelessness wouldn’t exactly call that a bad outcome. Even without yokai looming around the crossing, there was something existentially off about seeing it empty. It was as if I had stumbled into a sight I shouldn’t be seeing. Two million people a day, and yet absolutely nothing here but silence. The Shibuya skyline only rang hollow as flashy adverts for upcoming movies played to an invested audience of no one. Avatars of capitalism danced and sang on the neon stage. However, if I said the lights on the buildings began to act strangely, would you believe me? No, I wouldn’t believe me either!
The lights and the ads all jumbled together into a visual maze. As if they had been shoved into a microwave on high and left in there. The ads continued to deteriorate pixel by pixel. They became nothing but empty black screens, nothing to their name. This was unequivocally the straw that broke the camel’s back. Of course, I wasn’t dumb enough to immediately jump to some wild theories like aliens, I may be an occult nerd, but I am a reasonable person. However, this wasn't the time for logic & reason the fucking lights in Shibuya went out after bugging out. Whatever was here was fucking with me, and it was working.
Fearing what could be potentially plotting my end, Yakuza or supernatural, I turned tail. Making it as far as I could as quickly as possible.
Soon enough, I was on my way home, and everything was finally going smoothly. What are the odds that something crazy happens right when I get home?
Little did I know that it certainly was about to be way crazier. I opened the door and stepped inside. Announcing my arrival was met with silence; the only sound I could feasibly comprehend was my father’s heavy breathing, the muffled sounds of hasty reporting. I don't get sensational news cycles. Over-the-top headlines for what: Mass Panic? applause? So what if people die? Why would we need to report on it? Other than to make the audience feel programmed emotions. With a sigh, I removed my shoes, pushing my sour thoughts down with a bitter swallow.
“Ufo’----across the globe,” spoke the tv. Even without watching the report, I had heard enough; the gears in my head spun around. Ufo sightings around the world. That is what sounded the most correct to me.
Had I somehow willed aliens into existence with my occult research? Travelers from the Andromeda galaxy or perhaps even farther have finally come to earth? The only mystery left to solve was why they had come? I turned the corner of the foyer to observe the UFOs in question were just weird-shaped balloons spotted over Germany. Then it hit me; they didn’t mean ufo as aliens, but what the acronym meant. Unidentified Flying objects. I felt like a dumbfounded fool, having got my hopes up all because I heard the word Ufo. Maybe..maybe these ufos are actual aliens. Who knows? I sighed and plopped myself down in front of the tv. My dad didn’t even move his eyes from the tv. “So? How was school?”
“Eh…boring as usual. Became friends with a Yakuza tough.”
“Ha ain’t that swell? Hungry?”
“Not really”
“Your sister wanted fast food. There are some leftovers in the fridge. If you want them”
“Thank you, but I’m not hungry” I got up and left the living room. I kinda felt a little disappointed, a lead had gone nowhere, and now unidentified flying objects were just that unidentified.
“You ok, Shoji?”
“Yeah…yeah, I’m fine.”
“Alright,” my dad sighed and gave up the ghost.
Even though this was every day, It somehow felt more stinging today. I know that cryptids are hard to find, if not unreal, but we search daily. On the cusp of my graduation: about to enter the real world. I learned to use a camera like a military man's trusty rifle. I just want to do something big while I’m young. I made my way to my room. Secluded in the back portion of our house. My room was relatively small and uninteresting. The only thing I actually cared about was the massive computer. A hulking brick of electronics meshed with wiring and wrapped with a cute little bow called a logo. I sat down and turned it on. The screen flickered to life with a sickly green hue. Moving the mouse, the cursor: a pixelated representation of an arrow. It dragged along the screen with a micro-second lag. Bringing the cursor down, I double-clicked on the pre-installed web browser and waited for it to load. It only took a few moments for the world wide web to be right there before my eyes. It took a moment for the homepage to fully load.
When the web decided to fully load, the landing page greeted me with its mascot: an effervescent butler-ish man with wacky purple hair and a pleasant smile. He stood at the corner of the webpage waving his arm, beckoning me to search the internet high and low and find something to our liking. Of course, I knew where I was going. With a few simple keystrokes and an admittedly stupid long password: I made it to my destination, the hangout for all the loners, wannabe hackers, and tinfoil hat-wearing freaks obsessed with the unseen and unprovable. WWW.OccultHunting.com is the one-stop image board for all your cryptid needs. I waited on the homepage for a moment watching as the numbers on my inbox ticked further upwards.
Most of them were the basic “non-believer” types: describing in great detail how this can’t be real. What the hell self-described “skeptics” are doing on an occultic website is beyond me and my reason to effectively give a fuck.
The other group was what I like to refer to as “The true elite,” those believers in arms who would always indulge in sharing theories back in forth. There was one who always seemed way too eager to share his mind.
LostInWonderland42069, or as we knew him, Wonderland. Having reached out to him and struck up a conversation on multiple occasions, he explained that he’s a writer with an interest in the gnostic and the occult. He’d commented a couple times on the pictures I had uploaded, always saying something profound about our place in the universe. The last time we spoke, he mentioned something I couldn’t find any information on, no matter how hard I searched online. Wonderland called It Galaxia and said it was some life energy that fills the entire universe. He went on to explain that he found out about this from a strange guy he met, but it all sounded like a crock of shit he was spinning to sound cool on the internet. I mean, I’ve spun shit to seem cool on the internet, but that was when I was in middle school and a military otaku far too ready for WW3. to look back on those years is to stare hell in the face, and I’d much rather not do that. It wouldn’t hurt to talk to him. Maybe he saw what had happened in Shibuya tonight.
My inbox was awaiting a new message. Lo and behold, who was it from none other than Wonderland. I opened his message. Mad ramblings and grainy photos were all that I was greeted with. He mused about how the government was planning something and that this event was the first sign of the second coming. His ramblings continued: somewhere within, he dropped the name Tal’aloy. The name of some god apparently spoke to him and told him all of this.
“Nobunaga will make his move tomorrow! He and that American whore!” he spat. The vitriol radiating off the chat was thick. The one-sided conversation continued, and Wonderland went off with his ravings. Every now and again, he would cheekily sneak in product placement for his light novel.
“If you know Aliens are going to attack tomorrow, why don’t you do something? Tip-off the SDF, or hell get out there yourself?”
He just reacted with a laughing emoticon and left that question like that. Putting that far behind him, he sent one final message. Jesus, just reading the damn thing was like trudging through a novel.
“In the coming days. There are two people you must avoid.”
After the conversation, I’m gonna stay the fuck away from you.
“Hamsa…he once killed a man just by fucking looking at him! Uh. He’s the first. Folks call him the Red-Haired Enigma. The second is The Demon of Nagasaki.”
“What did the second guy do?”
“We. Don’t. Talk. About. Him. just avoid him.”
Shouldn't the idea be I avoid aliens? I mean, we’re facing a possible invasion, c’mon.
Wonderland, the tight-lipped clam, didn’t mutter a single word about either man. I tried every trick I knew to try and pry the knowledge out of him for god knows how long. When I had gotten tired of receiving laughing emoticons and or angry emoticons. I bid my adieus and logged off. I sat there, reflecting my eyes glued to the floor. My only job, according to him, was to soak in the information and avoid those two men based solely on the principle that Wonderland had told me to.
There I was back on the landing page: the eyes of the butler pierced through me. A gentle wag of his finger, begging me to explore to my leisure as he had before. The name of Wonderland’s god splayed out before me in the search bar. My finger hovered over the enter key: my finger didn’t budge. We’ve all heard stories of cult recruiters hanging around the high streets to prey on unsuspecting high school students and college kids, trying to coil their philosophy around their necks. What if searching for this God was what Wonderland wanted of me? What I saw on the other end was not what I had pictured. Instead of countless articles detailing the anthropological history of this deity's worship, there was nothing but the butler shaking his head: a brief condolence. I slumped back into my chair, breathing a nervous chuckle. I had escaped cult recruitment simply because not even the internet could understand Wonderland’s machinations. My phone rang, shattering the silence I had been enshrouded in. I pulled it from my pocket and held it to my ear.
“Hello?”
“Hey meet us in Kabuki-Cho.”
“H-Hibari its nearly night…I can’t go out now”
“Oh quit being such a baby. Just meet us there”
“Ugh…fine. Where are you guys?”
“I already told you! We’re in Kabuki-Cho! Just call me when you’re close”
“Alright”
“Don’t be late” Hibari’s voice cut the transpondence short. I quickly got to work Slinging the club camera around my neck and equipping my shoes. Before I knew it the trek to Kabuki-Cho had gone by. The sights the sounds, just standing at the cities gaping maw I could feel myself develop a dangerous gambling addiction. Taking a single step into the nocturnal streets was like asking for my wallet to be put on a weight loss program. The streets of Kabuki-Cho were packed to the brim like a can of sardines but unlike the other wards it breathed with a sense of life that Shibuya to Akihabara just didn’t have. The client’s of the Kabuki knew exactly what they came here for; they leave feeling safe in the weight they made that night. Or in some cases…unfortunely walking away with low hung heads lamenting the loss of yen they had incurred. Despite my looks and the rather vivacious patches of facial I am unable to partake in the Kabuki’s nocturnal games. I am still only a highschool student. While as much as I hate to admit that I want to; the law requires I answer no to the question of if I wanted to blow money in Kabuki-cho. Besides that’s not the reason I’m here. If there’s one thing we can depend on Hibari for its random adventures.
A familiar ring and I dug my hand into my pocket.
“Hey where the hell are you?” Hibari curtly asked
“I’m here! Where are you guys!”I replied. Hibari audibly sighed, in the background I could hear the other two. They seemed happy, laughing about sneaking out and living our lives like true teenagers: with graduation right around the corner it felt foreign to hear them laughing. Jinbei Academy how I ever managed to land that place as the kid I was in middle school. It baffles me to this day. A smile crossed my lips, small sincere, a real smile. Hibari’s voice slowly faded back into the forefront of my senses, apparently I had blanked out losing myself in a wild thought about graduation. Sounds like me at least.
“Look Just stay there we’ll come meet you” Hibari sighed. “Just. stay there” she repeated herself with a curt tone. As if she didn’t trust me to stay exactly where I was. To be honestly I don’t trust myself to stand still so maybe she had a point repeating herself.
Sliding my phone into my pocket I set upon waiting. Lights on parlors flickered with a rhythmic chromatic palette like a dancer’s attire suddenly swapping colors. Businessman sloshed around holding onto each other like war buddies pulling each other back behind their lines; laughing all the way they went. Damnit there I go again with the war analogies! Maybe I haven’t exactly left behind that phase huh? Kabuki-Cho was alive and living through all of those that walked through it. I would say that was beautiful and poetic but I doubt you’d call a vomit stained street beautiful? I drummed a simple tune on my legs, and rocked back and forth. I crained my neck around looking passingly interested in whatever the hell I happened upon.
“Hey Dumbass!” I know that crude voice from anywhere. Hibari Nishijima, she’d found me saying it like that makes it sound like I wanted anything but to be seen. In a brief second they all surrounded me. Laughing and patting each other’s shoulders. Hibari however immediately took the reigns over our little excursion.
“We graduate in six days!” she said. “So why not live a little. From Kabuki-Cho to Shinjuku to wherever we want! We’ll live it the fuck up tonight!!” Hibari proclaimed proudly pointing at the opposite direction. It was a rallying cry to our youth, taking the lead Hibari set we all raised our fists and shouted a resounding war cry. A chant to enjoy the night and the remainder of our youth. Hibari pounded her chest, with her leading the charge we all ran down the street like a line of empowered calvary. Our teenage conquest on the wards of Tokyo had begun, we ravaged Kabuki-Cho and quickly went on to a second engagement in Shinjuku. However as much as we would’ve loved to savour our fun; the night had other plans. Coming upon the Shinjuku back alleys where we joked and laughed and stalked around like the youthful teens we were. We hadn’t stopped to observe the calamity before us. Bloody carcasses lay abandoned on the ground, entrails splattered around like an ode to Pollockian stylings while mixing in some of Pickman’s Gallery.
“Y..You don’t..Don’t think those are real people do ya?” Hibari’s voice for the first time since I’ve known her shook. She held onto me gripping my jacket tightly. We all clung together and marched through the streets calling out for any survivors but there was nothing but dull silence. Where we stood in the alleyway it seemed as though It stretched on forever; endlessly looping around on itself, even as we backed away hoping to leave this nightmare. We wound up right where we started.
“ANDO!! Snap some pictures! do something!” Itoi shouted. He looked paler than a ghost, shouting seemed to be the only thing he could do to keep himself from fainting. His words struck me like a sucker punch, with a nod I raised my camera. Peeking through the viewfinder I observed something odd. At the far end of the alleyway was a man, he stood head hung low observing his feet with great intensity. I took my eye out of the viewfinder and looked at his direction only to notice he was nowhere to be seen. I lifted the camera to eye level once more and like magic he reappeared. I snapped a photo of him, the bright flash cut its way through the darkness. Peering through the viewfinder I bore witness to the man craning his head. Uncannily, he didn’t move his body, just moved his head almost a perfect 180 degrees. I continued snapping photo after photo like firing a gun, He walked silently down the alley. He didn’t laugh, offer any sort of quote or qwip, just stalked towards us. His menacing gaze affixed firmly upon me. The closer he drew the more apparent it became that he most certainly was no man. There in place of a human face was a cow’s head, horns and all. It seemed as though he didn’t appear to like me staring at his features. His pace quickened; his footsteps nearly turned into a full on sprint. I turned to my friends, showing them the photos. Itoi piped up mentioning some old folk tale of midnight being when the demons of earth are most powerful. We all turned our attention to the space where the man was approaching from. We all exchanged glances to each other: our eyes bobbing between the corpses on the floor to the man hastily approaching.
Is he responsible? The question quivered on each of our lips; somehow we had avoided spilling that question outwardly like a heedless spell. The man had approached, in the photos I had taken I soon realized that they had failed to capture the true breadth of his height. The cow headed man grabbed me suddenly. His hands ended in sickly bony fingers with almost bird-like claws at the end of each one. His eyes, sickly and gray as they were, did a good job scaring the absolute shit out of me. He suddenly leaned back and let out a sickening cackle.
“My my my! You four seem like you enjoy a good game.” a dry hoarse voice to accompany such a demonic visage. He gave a wicked smile. Our fearless leader, she walked up to the bullheaded man, her legs shaking underneath her, yet she refused to get behind us. She suddenly raised her hand and slapped the bullheaded man. The man scoffed, his brow furrowed and he huffed angrily.
“How unsportsmanlike”
