Ayami’s head whipped back for only a moment, but that single glimpse burned itself into her mind. The ancient shape drifted into view, revealing the form behind the terror. At first her mind refused to process the sight - but soon the primal instinct turned on, pattern thinking took over and she stared on and on until she felt a pull on her hand and her eyes fell back on her Seika. Left at bottom.
Left at bottom.
She silently repeated Seika’s words over and over as they neared the ground floor, as if the force behind them would strip the edge from her mind and lead her astray. Seika’s hand was a constant, the warmth and firm grip of her fingers pulled her towards safety.
As they hit the floor, Ayami’s eyes widened as Seika’s balance threatened to falter - her feet planted hard, the muscle memory of her batting stance locked in and she became an anchor for her friend, letting her catch herself against her hand and the handrail. With a reassuring squeeze that she was safe and Ayami’s descent would be safe she followed.
Ayami looked to the left, but Seika’s reaction left her uncertain and worried for her friend - slowly she began to glance over her shoulder, but before she could view the subject of her friend’s fear, Seika caught her shoulder and pulled her into the shadows. With warning she would’ve been fine, but flat footed and off guard as she was, Ayami came fell into the shadowy alcove stumbling into Seika. The shadows fell quickly and thick over the two of them, in the silence and darkness she swore she could hear their heartbeats join into a pounding duet.
. . . I could never hold enough of you in my hands . . .
She pulled and Ayami stumbled into the dark, Seika felt something hard jab into her side as Ayami’s body collided with hers. She stumbled backwards until she felt her back hit the wall, biting her lip to swallow a grunt of pain. She kept one hand on Ayami’s shoulder as she wrapped her other arm around the girl’s waist to pull her as deep into the shadow as she could. Her heart hammered in her chest and she could swear she could feel Ayami’s heart through the tips of her fingers.
“Ohhhh?” The old voice rasped with the coying sweetness. The footsteps slowed and Seika couldn’t help but imagine that their owner was taking their time to be certain that they heared them. Did they make too much noise? Seika’s grip tightened as she squirmed backwards, trying to find space in the alcove for the two of them. If the worst happened then she could… if she sprinted out of here as fast as she could maybe she could distract whoever it was long enough for Ayami to get away.
Another step and Seika’s mind went blank as she swallowed a breath. She could feel her heart in her ears as the figure stepped out of the bottom of the stairs. They lingered there for a moment, just out of sight but there.
”My, my, do we have company?” Each syllable was slow and sweet in a way that made her stomach acid churn. The figure stepped forward, their gaze down the hallway. They were… an old woman, or she thought they were a woman anyway, their face leathery and wrinkled. They were tall, but they stood hunched over, and they wore a poorly fitting janitor’s overalls. With one hand they dragged a large burlap sack that Seika was certain was wriggling and in her other was a long stick.
A broom that had its head broken off.
The old woman drew in a breath and clicked her tongue.
“Perhaps, perhaps, I simply imagined smelling something sweet.” She muttered. She began to move again, slowly, as the sack continued to wriggle.
//... into the dark she stepped, but never did she feel free of the gaze...//
Ayami planted one hand over her mouth as the other held Seika's arm around her waist. She wanted to shrink small and disappear, to crawl away somewhere hidden and cease to be. She closed her eyes to pretend, but her friend's hands steadied her. Ayami was there beneath the stairs, hiding like a rat from something that couldn't be.
The figure slowed and Ayami tensed, her breathing becoming almost inaudible. Her eyes remained fixed on the bottom of the stairs, locked in a terrified vigil. As the figure stepped into view she took in each detail of the misshapen form. An old woman... but wiry and strange, impossibly old and dragging along a sack that shifted and wriggled as they shambled through the halls. Had it followed them on the floor above to the stairway? Perhaps... the sack and broken broom left a hard twist in her stomach.
Something sweet?
Could she smell the girls? The thought was uncomfortable. As the figure began to wander off, she watched the bag and felt dread grow in her mind. If they were caught, would they find themselves in that sack? Was someone else in there, another student? The thought made her shiver.
She slowly reached out for Seika and caught her shirt with her free hand, giving it a gentle tug to check on her friend.
. . . I could never hold enough of you in my hands . . .
Tap. Skrt. Tap. Skrt. Tap. Skrt. The old woman’s form vanished into the gloom around the corner, her footsteps echoing down the hallway. Seika remained tense as the sound slowly softened, and she strained to listen. Had she really not noticed them? And that sack, there had been a person in there, she just knew that there had to have been. Was that what the old woman was doing? Scooping up students who were staying too late? Seika could feel her head spinning as her heart jittered high in her chest. The footsteps, she couldn’t hear them, had that woman stopped? Had she come back for them?
A gentle tug on her shirt pulled her back, and Seika released a shaky breath she hadn’t known she had been holding. “Oh.” She said softly, feeling a flush warming the back of her neck as she loosened her hold on Ayami’s shoulder. “Do you think she’s gone?” The girl asked, her voice barely a murmur as she spoke into her friend’s ear. They’d need to check around the corner, wouldn’t they? Carefully she slid out from behind Ayami and stood next to her friend in the gloom.
“We should move, before that woman comes back.” Seika mouthed as she stepped carefully forward to the edge. She leaned forward and glanced around the corner. A door at the end of the hall closed with a loud click.
//... into the dark she stepped, but never did she feel free of the gaze...//
As the crone wandered elsewhere, Ayami let out a shaky sigh and fell back softly against the wall, her lungs ached and struggled to bring in air quietly. She didn't have time to ponder the bag or where she'd be going to, only how lucky she and Seika had been to avoid her. Her throat burned as she tried to whisper and recover at the same time, "that was..." she took in a deep breath, "the most stressful thing that has ever happened to me."
She stayed as quiet as she could and pulled her hoodie up over her mouth when she needed to exhale. "I don't know if she has left for good and I don't know if we should wait around to see..."
She gave a brief but certain nod and shadowed Seika as she peaked out looking for their pursuer. At the reassurance of the door closing, she stepped out of their hiding place and looked for a way out that did not lead towards her.
. . . I could never hold enough of you in my hands . . .
The hallway was still as she peaked her head around the corner, and Seika could feel her body relax. What was that way? The cafeteria, she thought. If this really was their school, then the cafeteria was that way and the opposite direction would take them back to the front entrance. If they could make it there, then they could get out and find someone who could help them. Vapor escaped her lips as she followed Ayami out into the hall. She felt uneasy deep in the pit of her stomach, and the hairs on the back of her neck bristled like she expected someone to reach out and grab her at any moment.
“The sack was…” Seika's words came soft, before she shook her head. She reached down and took hold of Ayami’s hand, her fingers felt numb and jittery so she squeezed tight. “Let’s hurry before she comes back.” With a tug, Seika hurried forward.
Tendrils of fog tenderly brushed against the tall windows of the hallway, leaving trails of water droplets on the glass in their ever shifting motion. The old panels shuttered and creaked as wind pressed itself close, like probing fingers searching for weakness. Classroom doors left half-cracked allowed their darkness to spill out into the hallway and offered only to those passing what the paranoid ear in its search for any whisper might hear. Seika didn’t slow as she lead the pair forward, she walked on the sides of her feet, if only because she once read that it was quieter in some silly spy story. Still, the wood was cold and worn, and her socks thin.
“Here.” Her heart fluttered as they reached the juncture, and her knees felt loose. She fought the part of her brain that told her to sprint for the entrance, but she maintained her composure well enough to slow to a stop and hold her grip on Ayami’s hand. The hallway continued forward, what little light that spilled through the windows offering up only a vague shape. To their right was another staircase, and to their left…
Seika peaked around the corner, and was greeted by the low walls of the shoe lockers. She breathed a shaky sigh of relief as she grinned over her shoulder at Ayami.
“Made it.” She said, bumping her hip against Ayami’s before she turned the corner. She moved briskly down the rows of lockers which loomed as if teetering on their edges in the low light, ready to pounce before they could reach the door. Then, they were there. For a moment Seika felt unsteady on her feet as relief replaced tension. She reached out for the door’s handle, and stopped. Her vision wavered and her voice caught in her throat. Around the handles, a thick chain had been woven. “No, no, no, no.” She croaked.
He, he, he.
Seika turned sharply. On the top of a row of lockers a shape was perched. Formless in the dim light save for the glittering on an edge held in their hand.
“How pretty.”
//... into the dark she stepped, but never did she feel free of the gaze...//
The school seemed to twist into malicious, predatory shapes in the dark - their shadows growing long and grim in what pale light lingered. Ayami was ready to be done with the nightmare and stuck close to her friend and they neared the exit of the labyrinth.
She half expected to awake at the firm squeeze of Seika’s hand, but she remained planted there with her - the two of them made their way slowly for the doors. Despite the urge to scream and run, that same urge that had been gnawing at Ayami since the stairwell, she steadied herself and shook out her fear in her free hand idly.
Seika’s grin shined in the dark and Ayami nearly laughed out of pure disbelief. “Made it.”
“I suppose this is the part where I thank you.” She said with a coy smirk as they neared the exit. Ayami looked back the way they’d come and tapped her teeth together anxiously as Seika went to fiddle with the door. As close as they were to safety, the irrational fear that someone had followed still lingered, setting the hair on her neck at its end.
”No, no, no, no.”
Something heavy dropped into her throat and she twisted around, dreading what she’d find when her eyes found purchase on the door.
Chains?!
A dead end. How could she have been so stupid - no, neither of them could’ve known, but the point still stood that they were trapped. They had no choice but to go back to where they’d first seen -
He, he, he.
Ayami jumped in fright- a scream came out as a muffled squeak as she landed and spun to face the sound. A shadow perched atop the lockers, formless save the light catching the cruel edge it held in what it called a hand.
”How pretty.”
In a moment of pure instinct, Ayami released Seika’s hand and drew her bat in a sweeping arc - still careful to not hit her friend in the dark. With both hands on the grip of her slugger she planted her socked feet in front of her friend, shielding Seika with her batting position.
Her eyes narrowed on the hand of the shadow - a pitcher with a deadly fastball. “Stay back!” Ayami mustered her courage and called out at the dark. She cocked her head just enough to signal Seika. “Move, don’t move?” She said hushed and anxious.
. . . I could never hold enough of you in my hands . . .
“That’s…” Seika took a step back as Ayami drew her bat with a cutting swish of air. Her hip caught the door, the chains rattling like a dry snicker at their helplessness. The figure leaned forward, the lockers creaking as the thin metal quivered. The figure exhaled, white vapor clouding in the still air like a haze. More than just sound, there was a feeling like something greasy and damp had been smeared against her skin.
”So smooth, perfect ribbons of silk.” They leaned forward, their skin was wrong, in some places it sagged while in others it was pulled so tight that Seika was certain she could see the bend of bone, and the glitter of yellowed teeth between the gaps of peeling lips. Greasy black hair clung together in clumps where it burst through spotted skin. Crooked yellowed teeth gleamed in sunken gums as it grinned, undaunted by Ayami’s threat. The thing wore the blazer of the school uniform, torn in long strips stained with uneven dark splotches. The thing toppled over the edge, hitting the ground with a ‘whap of meat. A stained cleaver was gripped tight in a cracked hand.
“Move right!” Seika hissed through her teeth, tapping her friend on the shoulder as she moved. If they could get to the right side then they could use the lockers and the wall as a corridor. Would that make it hard for Ayami to swing? If they could get back to the hallway before it caught up then there would be room. They just needed to—
Metal screamed as a fine edge was scraped against the ground.
//... into the dark she stepped, but never did she feel free of the gaze...//
Ayami could hardly bear to watch the homunculus clamber across the lockers and plop onto the floor, but her eyes stayed fixed just as tight as her grip. It was a ghoulish form, the tattered remains of what had been a school uniform hung off its bones - the last piece of what it could've been before.
“Move right!”
She glanced over her shoulder before swooping to her right, bringing the bat to her left shoulder to keep it from hitting her friend in case that thing got close - a weaker swing but a swing nonetheless. "Seika! Where do we go? There's no-" Ayami let out in a strained gasp as the wretched sound whine of metal pulled along the floor followed them as they fled.
They had no where else to go, all they could do was run and pray they didn't attract their previous pursuer.
Her body moved while her mind struggled to form a coherent plan. They needed to get back into the hallway, if they could just do that then — then there had to be a way to escape. If they could just do that much then — thoughts jumbled in her mind, never fully linking to where she needed them to go. But her legs moved, guided on by that metallic scrape as her skirt swished around her legs. Ayami voiced an objection or a concern about there not being a way to go, but that did little to calm the sudden chill in her heart.
Ayami had a bat, would it be better for her to just—
Seika’s feet hit the cold, smooth floor of the hallway. To the right was the way the old woman had gone, so Seika took a sharp left. Too sharp, perhaps. It felt like the floor shifted under her socks, and one of her feet slid out from under her. She attempted to recover, her fingers sliced at the air in an attempt to find purchase, but gravity had its own design and with a gasp the girl went tumbling. Her momentum carried her a few extra feet, and her shoulder stung with the impact and forced the air from her lungs. The cold ground prickled the bare skin of her legs, and Seika struggled to catch her breath.
The thing with the cleaver stepped out of the locker room, unhurried. There was a sound, like leather creaking and gas leaking as it’s shoulders quivered with laughter.
//... into the dark she stepped, but never did she feel free of the gaze...//
Everything was happening so fast, Ayami's mind didn't have the moments to process it all. Run, just run was all the two of them had as they dodged their pursuer. They seemed surrounded, beset by both sides with strange forms Ayami couldn't name, couldn't even recognize. What was this place? What were they? All she wanted to do was curl up and scream but something primal inside her willed her to run, to take Seika and get out of there as fast as she could.
Ayami watched her friend go hard against the linoleum and reached for her but caught nothing but void. Behind them from the locker room, the shape with the cleaver breached into the hallway, a horrid noise came echoed from it and Ayami willed herself not to listen. She shoved the bat back into her bag and threw herself towards her friend, "Seika! Come on, we need to go!" She bent down and took her lifted her with one arm under her knees and the other holding her back. If Seika couldn't steady herself and find her feet, Ayami would carry her. Nothing would make her leave this girl.
Either way, with her friend in tow she ran for the left. The only thing that mattered was Seika was with her, as long as she had her she could make it.
. . . I could never hold enough of you in my hands . . .
Points of black swam in Seika’s vision as she pulled a ragged breath through her lips. Cold air bit into soft skin at the back of her throat, and her vision blurred at the edges where tears gathered. She pressed her hand against the floor as she attempted to push herself up, but her body felt heavy, like something had grabbed hold of her blazer and was pulling her down. Something cold brushed against her cheek, and an involuntary shiver ran down Seika’s back. She felt as if she had been suddenly tossed into a bathtub full of ice.
“Seika! Come on, we need to go!” Ayami called as she closed in fast. Seika tried again to lift herself, and vapor escaped her lips with the exertion. If Ayami kept going she could get away, Seika blinked away the tears that gathered on the edge of her vision, that would be fine. Seika opened her mouth to tell the girl to keep going, but something far more unexpected happened, Ayami reached down and scooped her up. Seika felt something tug at her blazer as Ayami lifted, a rip of cloth, and for a moment she could have sworn she saw a white hand poking out of the floor, then warmth. So warm.
Seika looped a hand around Ayami’s back, her fingers gripping the shoulder strap of her back, another shiver running through her body. “The cub room door at the end of the first year hall has a lock.” she said through chattering teeth as she rested her forehead against Ayami’s shoulder.
The fog outside the windows swirled as hands pressed against the glass, fingers squirming their way through the worms through the dirt.
//... into the dark she stepped, but never did she feel free of the gaze...//
Adrenaline took over and Ayami nearly took flight from the floor as she blew past. The feeling of cold shot up through her leg, but the fear kept her moving even as her mind wandered and wondered what she touched.
Her eyes drifted to the windows as she ran for the end of the first year hall. The sight of hands pressing against glass, threatening to move through and touch her was enough to make her hesitate. "Seika, I don't..." she could hardly understand it, it was all wrong. What were they? This couldn't be a place she had known, no such place would play host to such strange happenings.
With no where else to go she ran for the cub room door, fixing her eyes on the knob as she ran faster - the weight of Seika's body anchoring her in place. She came through the door, and shut it behind her as quick as she could. "Seika! Are you alright?" She did not set her friend down, but rather tried to rouse her head and examine her.
. . . I could never hold enough of you in my hands . . .
Ayami hesitated, just for a moment, and Seika’s eyes widened as she looked past the girl’s shoulder. Fingers reached up from the floor, digits twitching like weeds flowing in the wind. The sprouted hands reached for Ayami’s legs, just barely beyond their reach. The woman with the cleaver continued her slow advance, what little space that was between them bleeding with each step. Seika’s lips parted as she attempted to speak a warning, but all that escaped her was a puff of vapor. Ayami started forward, her arms holding Seika close to the warmth of her chest as she went.
The woman screamed as the hand reached for her, fingers catching the fabric of her skirt. She brought the cleaver down, its edge screaming as it scraped across the top of the floor as it cut through the space the hand occupied. More reached for her, squirming through the windows and clawing through the floor. The two girls burst through the club room door, and Seika caught a glimpse of the woman being dragged down by the grasping hands as the door swung closed.
Vision blurred for a moment as heavy eyelids sagged, offering a comforting blur of dark. For a moment, she felt like she was floating, ice prickled at her ankle like thin needles through skin and something warm brushed against her cheek. Her eyes fluttered back open before unconsciousness took hold, and a cold breath escaped her as she quivered. It was hard to focus, but Ayami’s head was close. Her lips parted, her breath curling away. It took a moment to understand what Ayami had asked, and another to find her own words.
“It’s holding so tight.” she muttered, her head lulling towards the warmth of a shoulder, as a feeling of ice cutting through skin scratched up her leg.
//... into the dark she stepped, but never did she feel free of the gaze...//
A shaky breath escaped her as she backed away from the door and tried to piece together an image of what was happening. These were the silly stories girls told each other around a candle on sleepovers, nothing more than a game. What had she even seen in that hallway? She could remember when her family still lived in the countryside, the stories of crones in the woods and spirits that would play a prank on you as fast as they'd eat you.
Maybe they were safe now, or at least had some time to try and figure out a better plan than to keep running from every spooky thing they ran into. "Seika, you okay?" She asked her friend again. Friend - they'd only really known each other for less than an hour but it already felt as though she could trust this girl with her entire being.
No answer at first. She rustled her gently before she let out an odd phrase. "I don't understand, what is -" Ayami saw the hand holding Seika's leg firm and nearly dropped her in shock. Her friend was growing cold, and could hardly stay awake now. Gently, she sat her down on a chair, ensuring her head wouldn't fall. Slowly she reached for the hand, but withdrew instinctually as it grew cold even from a few inches away. "I'm sorry, Seika. I hope this doesn't hurt you." Her friend was being harmed, and in a moment of courage and instinct she grabbed the hand and tried to pull it from Seika's ankle, biting her lip hard to keep a scream at bay as the cold bit her hands.
. . . I could never hold enough of you in my hands . . .