CHAPTER 38 — THE HUNGER OF THE VOID
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Kyoichiiro stood in the middle of the room filled with old equipment, his eyes still moving quickly, searching for the doll that was no longer there. His mind spun like a wheel that couldn't stop, like a machine that kept turning even though nothing could be produced. He felt his chest tighten, felt his breath growing shorter, felt something strange inside him—something like anger, but also like fear, like despair, like every emotion he had ever felt in his life blended into one.
How many more times? he thought, and his mind grew chaotic. How many more times do I have to die? How many more times do I have to see that girl die? How many more times do I have to feel the pain of my head exploding?
He bit his lip—hard, until it hurt, until blood flowed on his tongue. The pain was real. The pain couldn't be faked. But the pain wasn't enough to stop his mind from spinning.
Amura: (Approaching, his voice soft, careful, like approaching a wounded animal) "Kyoichiiro... we've searched everywhere. The doll isn't here. Maybe it's moved somewhere else."
Kyoichiiro: (Not answering. He just stood there, with empty eyes, with hands still trembling)
Aetheria: (Also approaching, her voice small, anxious) "Kyoichiiro-san... maybe we should rest for a bit. You look very tired."
Kyoichiiro: (Still not answering. He just stood there, with his mind still spinning)
And at that moment, he heard a sound.
Not the sound of footsteps. Not the sound of a door opening. Not the sound of whispers. But another sound—a softer, fainter sound, like a child laughing. "Hehehe..."
Kyoichiiro turned around—toward the sound. His light blue eyes—usually sharp, usually calculating—now widened, searching for the source of the sound among the dusty wooden shelves.
Kyoichiiro: (His voice low, tense) "What was that...?"
He stared at a shelf in the corner of the room—a shelf full of glass bottles and unidentifiable old objects. And on top of that shelf, among piles of dust and dirt, there was a letter. A letter that hadn't been there before. A letter that had just appeared, like magic, like something placed by an unseen hand.
Amura: (Seeing Kyoichiiro staring at the shelf, also seeing the letter) "What's that?"
Kyoichiiro: (Walking toward the shelf, his eyes unblinking) "A letter."
Aetheria: (Approaching, her voice small) "A letter? From who?"
Kyoichiiro: (Not answering. He reached out his hand to take the letter, but the shelf was too high for him) "Amura. Help me."
Amura: (Nodding, kneeling before the shelf) "Climb up."
Kyoichiiro climbed onto Amura's shoulders—his small feet balancing on the sturdy shoulders, his hand carefully reaching for the letter, like picking up something that could explode at any moment. The letter was made of old, yellowed paper, with fragile creases. On the front, there was writing—writing he couldn't read, but his mind automatically translated it:
"Are you looking for me?"
Kyoichiiro: (Reading the writing, his eyes widening) "What...?"
Amura: (Still supporting him, his voice heard from below) "What does it say?"
Kyoichiiro: (Climbing down from Amura's shoulders, holding the letter with trembling hands) "It says... 'Are you looking for me?'"
Amura: (Startled) "Hah? How could the doll know we were looking for it? And can dolls even write like this?"
Aetheria: (Also startled, her face pale) "A doll... can write?"
Kyoichiiro: (Not answering. He just stared at the letter, with eyes still wide, with mind still spinning) The doll knows. The doll knows I'm looking for it. But how? How could the doll know?
He bit his lip—hard, until it hurt, until blood flowed on his tongue. The pain was real. The pain couldn't be faked. But the pain wasn't enough to stop his mind.
Kyoichiiro: (His voice low, full of anger) "If I find you anywhere, I'll destroy you."
Amura: (Hearing those words, his eyes narrowing) "Kyoichiiro... what did you say?"
Kyoichiiro: (Not answering. He just stared at the letter, with eyes still wide, with hands still trembling)
They kept searching—checking every corner of the room, opening every cabinet, overturning every object that could be overturned. No doll. No trace. Only dust, and dirt, and an increasingly oppressive silence.
Amura: (After a moment, sighing) "Nothing. The doll isn't here anymore."
Kyoichiiro: (Still staring at the letter) "We're leaving."
Amura: (Startled) "Leaving? Where to?"
Kyoichiiro: (Tucking the letter into his jacket pocket) "Somewhere else. There's something I need to confirm."
They left the room—passing through the creaking wooden door, through the dark corridor, through the three-way intersection. Kyoichiiro walked in front, with quick and steady steps, his eyes never stopping. Amura and Aetheria followed behind him, with slower steps, with more confused expressions.
Amura: (Whispering to Aetheria) "He's acting strange today."
Aetheria: (Also whispering) "I feel it too. Since earlier... he hasn't been himself."
They kept walking—through corridors growing darker, colder, more unfriendly. Kyoichiiro stopped before a painting hanging on the wall—a painting he hadn't seen before, appearing from nowhere. The painting depicted strange symbols, unrecognizable carvings, and in its center, there was a button. A stone button protruding slightly from the painting's surface.
Kyoichiiro: (Stopping, his eyes fixed on the button) "What's this?"
Amura: (Approaching, also looking) "I don't know. But it doesn't look like part of the wall."
Kyoichiiro: (Reaching out his hand, touching the button) "Maybe this—"
He couldn't finish his sentence. Because at that moment, the button pressed down—and the world spun.
Not a gentle spin, but a fast, brutal spin, making him lose his balance and fall into it. He felt himself flung, pulled toward a dark, cold place he couldn't see. And behind him, he heard shouting—Amura and Aetheria calling his name.
Amura: (Shouting) "KYOICHIRO—!"
Aetheria: (Also shouting) "KYOICHIRO-SAN—!"
And then, everything went dark.
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INSIDE THE VOID
Kyoichiiro woke—or rather, he became aware. He was aware that he was in a dark, cold place he couldn't see. He felt the stone floor beneath him, felt the stone wall beside him, felt the damp, heavy air around him.
Kyoichiiro: (Whispering, his voice echoing in the silent room) "Where... where am I...?"
He tried to stand—his legs felt weak, his hands felt trembling. He felt something strange in his chest—something like fear, but also like anger, like despair.
Kyoichiiro: (To himself) What is this? The wall just moved? I was pulled inside?
He looked around—nothing. Only darkness. Thick darkness, impenetrable to his eyes, making him feel like he was inside a grave.
And then, he heard a sound.
Not the sound of footsteps. Not the sound of a door opening. Not the sound of whispers. But another sound—a heavier, deeper sound, more like an animal's. The sound of breathing. Heavy breathing, deep breathing, like something waiting.
Kyoichiiro: (Gripping his katana's hilt tightly, his voice tense) "Who's there?"
No answer. Only that breathing—growing closer, louder, more like the sound of something hungry.
Kyoichiiro: (His voice louder, trying to cover his fear) "I said, who's there?"
And then, he saw it.
Two points of light in the darkness—two red points glowing, like two eyes staring at him. Eyes unlike human eyes—larger, wilder, more like a beast's eyes.
Kyoichiiro: (Stepping back, his hand still gripping his katana's hilt tightly) "Don't come closer..."
Those eyes drew nearer. And from behind the darkness, its form emerged. A tiger—but unlike any ordinary tiger. A larger, darker tiger, with pitch-black fur like night, with blazing red eyes like fire. Its mouth opened, revealing rows of sharp teeth glinting under an unknown light source.
Black Tiger: (Roaring—not an ordinary roar, but a roar that shook the room, that made the walls tremble, that made Kyoichiiro's ears ring) "ROOOAARRR—!"
Kyoichiiro didn't have time to react. The tiger pounced—faster than he expected, stronger than he imagined. Its sharp teeth sank into his right arm, tearing his flesh, breaking his bone.
Kyoichiiro: (Screaming—not an ordinary scream, but a scream that came from his chest, from the deepest place) "AAAAARGH—!"
He felt excruciating pain—pain unlike anything he had ever felt before, pain that spread from his arm throughout his body, like fire burning from within. He tried to hit the tiger with his other hand—hitting its head, its eyes, anything he could reach—but the tiger wouldn't let go.
Kyoichiiro: (Still screaming, his voice breaking) "LET GO—!"
And at that moment, he heard a terrible crack. The sound of bone breaking, snapping, beyond repair. His arm—his right arm—torn from his body, bitten off by the tiger, swallowed by its hungry mouth.
Kyoichiiro: (Falling to the floor, his body trembling violently, blood flowing from his gaping wound) "Damn it... why... why did it turn out like this..."
He felt blood flowing from his severed arm—warm, red blood, flowing onto the stone floor beneath him. He felt excruciating pain—pain that made him want to faint, pain that made him want to die.
Kyoichiiro: (Moaning, his voice weak) "Damn it... why am I trapped like this..."
He tried to stand—but couldn't. His legs were too weak, his body too injured, and the tiger was still before him, its red eyes still watching him, its mouth still open.
And then, the tiger split.
Not splitting like an ordinary creature—but splitting like something unnatural, like something that didn't follow natural laws. One became two, two became three, and now three black tigers stood before him, with red eyes watching him, with mouths open.
Kyoichiiro: (Whispering, his voice disbelieving) "Impossible... it split itself...?"
He tried to retreat—but his back hit the solid stone wall. No way out. No place to run. Only him, and three tigers, and death waiting before him.
Kyoichiiro: (Laughing—not an ordinary laugh, but a bitter, rueful laugh, like someone who had lost everything) "This is my fate... I guess... To die devoured by beasts... Not even getting to enjoy my youth... Dying young like this... Don't joke around..."
The three tigers pounced.
The first bit his head—sharp teeth piercing his skull, tearing his flesh, crushing his brain. The second bit his leg—tearing his flesh, breaking his bone, swallowing it in one bite. The third bit his body—tearing his stomach, pulling out his insides, eating them like food.
Kyoichiiro: (Feeling excruciating pain—pain unlike anything he had ever felt before, pain spreading throughout his body, pain making him want to die) "AAAAARGH—!"
He felt teeth crushing his head, felt claws tearing his stomach, felt mouths devouring his flesh. He felt all of it—every bite, every tear, every gulp. And then, he felt darkness—darkness coming slowly, enveloping him, taking him away.
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And then, Kyoichiiro was aware.
He was aware that he was sitting. His back was against the cold stone wall. Beside him, Amura and Aetheria were eating bread. They weren't speaking. They weren't looking at him. They just sat there, like before, like always.
Kyoichiiro: (Silent. His eyes empty, his mind empty, everything empty) "..."
He didn't move. Didn't speak. Didn't breathe. He just sat there, with empty eyes, with a frozen body, with a stopped mind.
I died again, he thought, and for the first time, he felt nothing. No fear. No anger. No despair. Only emptiness. A cold, hollow emptiness that nothing could fill. I died again. That tiger ate me. I felt all of it. And now I'm back here.
He looked at his hands—his hands still intact, still there, never bitten by a tiger. He looked at his arms—his arms still intact, still there, never torn off. He looked at his body—his body still intact, still there, never devoured by a tiger.
Kyoichiiro: (To himself) How many times is this? How many times do I have to die? How many times do I have to feel the same pain? How many times do I have to see death before me?
He didn't know. And for the first time, he didn't want to know.