ACT I9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjhdBNqcmzw
CHAPTER 2: CRIMSON WHISPERS9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOWXq49qFhB
DATE: 05.23.20139Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrDpk5GOhvL
LOCATION: ABANDONED MAINTENANCE TUNNEL — 11:47 PM
Kenji Tanaka clicked off his campus ID badge at the metal gate, the scanner’s red light blinking and then flickering to green. Behind him, Aiko Sakamoto and Satoshi Ito exchanged nervous glances. The tunnel’s yawning entrance was draped in torn caution tape and graffiti: “NO ENTRY” scratched through with a winged skull.
Aiko (quietly): “This place gives me the creeps.”9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ228Dl4mcV4
Satoshi (grinning): “Perfect for Haruto’s photos. He said he’d meet us here.”
Haruto Yamada—Satoshi’s childhood friend and amateur photographer—had sent them a text twenty minutes ago: “This spot is untouched. Trust me.” Now, only the three of them waited in the stale air, the distant drip of water echoing like a slow drumbeat.
Kenji shivered, tugging his jacket tighter. Why did I let them talk me into this? He stepped forward, flashlight in hand, and swept its beam across rusting pipes and cracked concrete. A single rat scuttled past, disappearing into darkness.
Kenji: “Haruto? You here?”
No answer. Only the tunnel’s emptiness greeted them.
Aiko raised her own torch, revealing a smear of dark red on the wall—fresh. It glistened under the light.
Aiko (voice trembling): “That wasn’t here two weeks ago.”
Satoshi crouched, examining the drip. “Looks like meat juice… but from what?”
A low, ragged moan drifted from deeper in the tunnel. All three froze.
Satoshi (nervous laugh): “Okay, nope. Turning back—”
He stepped backward and kicked something soft. Kenji’s beam landed on a torn sleeve and a half‑empty bottle of water, tipped over. No Haruto.
A jagged “clack” sounded, and Haruto stumbled into view, camera dangling from one hand, other pressed to his stomach. His face was pale, sweat beading at his hairline.
Haruto (hoarse whisper): “I… I’m sorry, guys.”
He leaned against the wall. For a moment, he looked like himself—tired, on the verge of tears. Then his spine arched, and his head snapped back. Black veins snaked beneath his skin.
His voice deepened, strange and hollow:9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzjZFZCPl9N
“Nam… says I must feed.”
Kenji jolted forward. “Haruto, fight it! It’s not you!”
Haruto’s lips peeled back in a twisted grin. The red glow flared in his eyes. He raised a trembling finger and pointed.
Haruto (cracked voice): “I… can’t stop him.”
Without warning, Haruto lunged at a stray rat that skittered past Satoshi’s foot. The rat squealed; Haruto tore into it with a wet crunch, the beam catching teeth dunked in fur and bone fragments. The tunnel walls rippled with spatter.
Aiko screamed and covered her mouth. Satoshi dropped to his knees, forcing himself not to look away.
Kenji’s heart hammered. This can’t be happening. He grabbed Haruto’s shoulder, but Haruto shook him off, spine bending at an unnatural angle.
Aiko: “Kenji, we have to do something!”
Kenji swallowed. His flashlight flickered as Haruto stood, rat carcass clutched in one fist. The black veins pulsed like dark lightning.
Haruto (voice warped): “I… I need more.”
Kenji fumbled for his phone. Call UCS? No signal in here.
A distant rumble shook loose bits of ceiling concrete, showering them in dust. Haruto hissed and stamped his foot. The tunnel lights—long since dead—gave no warning. Only the echo of dripping water and Haruto’s ragged breath.
Nam (through Haruto, voice echoing): “Feed… or I consume you.”
Kenji’s vision narrowed. He jammed a flashlight into Haruto’s back, pushing him forward.
Kenji (urgent): “Get out of here, Aiko! Help Satoshi up!”
Aiko sprang into action, tugging Satoshi away. Haruto’s free hand lashed out, fingers sharp as blades. He slashed at Kenji’s arm—steel met flesh with a sickening slice.
Kenji hissed, stumbling back. Blood welled from the cut, dripping onto cracked tile. The pain sharpened his resolve.
Kenji (shouting): “I said go!”
Aiko grabbed Satoshi’s arm. They staggered toward the exit, Haruto’s inhuman howl following them—half agony, half triumph.
Alone now, Kenji faced his friend’s broken body. Haruto’s form shimmered in the flashlight’s beam—tendril‑like ridges shifting beneath skin. Red eyes blazed.
Kenji clenched his fists. He wasn’t prepared to kill his friend—but he couldn’t let this continue.
Steps echoing, he backed up to a thick support beam. He yanked free a length of rebar from a nearby pile of debris. Its metal glinted ominously.
Haruto advanced, a guttural growl building in his throat. Every step dripped gore, every breath hissed like steam on steel.
Nam (whispered): “Give in… be one with me.”
Kenji’s chest tightened. He pressed the rebar’s tip to Haruto’s chest, where black veins pulsed fastest.
Kenji (firm): “Not happening.”
Haruto swiped. Kenji blocked, metal screeching. The force slammed him backward; he hit the wall hard, vision swimming.
Gritting his teeth, Kenji stabbed upward. The tip pierced Haruto’s shoulder with a wet squelch. Haruto roared, stumbling, rebar buried to the hilt.
Kenji yanked it free. Blood spurted, red as flame. Haruto dropped to his knees, grip on his host’s body loosening.
Haruto slumped, gasping. For a moment, the red glow faded from his eyes. Tears of pain—and something else—ran down his cheeks.
Haruto (barely audible): “Thank you…”
Then, just as quickly, the red light flared again. Haruto’s body convulsed, black veins seething back.
Nam (cold whisper): “You saved him… for now.”
With a shriek, Haruto lurched forward. Kenji barely had time to roll aside as a tendril lashed out, carving a gash across his back. Pain seared, and Kenji tasted copper.
He scrambled up, heart pounding. Haruto’s form straightened—host and Vestige realigning. Then, as if deciding discretion was better than carnage, Haruto broke into a sprint, battering through the tunnel wall’s rotten plywood exit.
Kenji staggered after him, but the scream faded into the night. Only the drip of blood and the echo of footsteps remained.
Kenji collapsed against the tunnel wall, rebar clattering to the floor. His shirt was soaked crimson. He forced himself to breathe, each inhale a stab of agony.
Above him, the world was silent. No sirens, no UCS patrols—nothing but distant traffic and the gentle hum of Tokyo at night.
He slid down until his knees hit the ground. Reaching into his pocket, he found his phone.
One missed call. UCS HQ. One voicemail: “Dr. Hirota here. Hope you’re settling in. Call me about your class project.”
Kenji deleted it without listening. He pressed his hand to his side, tasting salt and metal.
Kenji (thought, voice shaking): Nam… Who are you?
He closed his eyes. He didn’t dare move yet; not until the dizziness passed.
Minutes later, he managed to pull himself upright. With trembling fingers, he wiped the gore from his flashlight and pocketed it.
He would find Haruto—help him. And he would learn what Nam truly wanted.
But for now, he needed to get back to campus. Aiko and Satoshi would be worried.
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