Chapter 6 - CHAPTER 6 — KATSUO ARRIVES

 I, Dad, and Mom were having dinner when I had the flash of those six yellow eyes again. 'Is there anything wrong, sweetheart?' Mom asked, her voice soft with concern. But before I could answer, the door flung open with a deafening crash, as if wrenched by an unseen force. A thick, swirling mist of unearthly bright blue spilled over the rug like liquid smoke, curling and writhing as it seeped into the room, carrying with it a faint, metallic tang that clawed at the back of the throat. My heartbeat thundered in my ears, syncing with the slow, deliberate steps that echoed from within the haze. First emerged a pair of gleaming black shoes, polished to a sinister sheen, stepping forward with an unnatural grace that defied the creaking floorboards. Then the tailored trousers, crisp and dark, followed by the torso clad in a pristine white shirt, its collar starched to perfection beneath a sleek black blazer. Arms swung loosely at his sides, hands buried deep in his pockets, fingers twitching faintly as if grasping at secrets. Atop it all perched a wide-brimmed hat. There was a head-band over his eyes. But it was his face that froze the blood in my veins—entirely obscured by a thick headband that wrapped tightly around his eyes, hiding whatever horrors lay beneath. The rest of his visage was a canvas of intricate, writhing tattoos: serpentine patterns that seemed to shift and pulse with a life of their own, inked in shades of midnight black, twisting like living shadows across his skin. He came to a halt in the center of the room, the blue mist clinging to him like a shroud, and the air grew thick with an oppressive dread. It wasn't just the mist or the tattoos—it was his aura, an invisible weight that radiated from him like heat from a forge, pressing against our skin and making the room feel smaller, the walls closer. The air hummed with a low, guttural vibration that emanated from his core, vibrating through the floorboards and into our bones, as if the very walls were whispering warnings of impending doom. It clawed at our senses: a chill that seeped into our marrow, making Dad's hands tremble and Mom's breath catch, while I felt a primal urge to flee, my skin prickling as if unseen eyes were crawling over me. No one dared to speak, to breathe too loudly, for fear of drawing his gaze—or worse, his attention. The silence stretched, broken only by the distant drip of condensation from the mist, each drop landing like a heartbeat in a tomb. Then another flash of those same six yellow eyes came again, and I wondered: Do I know him? Maybe I saw him before. I thought. 'WHO ARE YOU, AND HOW DID YOU ENTER!' Dad shouted, standing up abruptly from the dinner table. He was shivering a bit, his broad shoulders tense under his worn tunic, as if a sudden chill had swept through our cozy hut. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows on the walls, making the room feel smaller, more intimate—and now, inexplicably threatening. Mom froze beside him, her spoon halfway to her mouth, her eyes wide with alarm. I sat there, a twelve-year-old kid with messy red hair and a plate of half-eaten stew, my heart pounding like a drum. Who was this stranger? And how had he just appeared in our home without a sound? 'Oh, I don't need permission . . .' he said, removing his right hand from behind his back and looking at his fingers as if inspecting something mundane, like dirt under his nails. His voice was… special. Not loud or booming, but cold and smooth, like a blade sliding through silk. It sent a cold shiver running through my spine, making the hairs on my arms stand up. 'It's already granted.' He smiled then, a thin, unsettling curve of his lips that didn't reach his eyes. Those eyes—dark, piercing, like bottomless wells—scanned the room as if he owned it. 'By the way, I'm Katsuo.'