"Hey, Ari."
"Whoa! You can finally speak, huh, fucker..."
"Lol... Can you explain something to me, buddy?"
"Sure, mate."
"You really want to move on. Like, really... But something insignificant holds you down. It's very, very trivial... but no matter its weight or value, it makes you... I don't know, not want to engage with things."
"What do you mean? A break-up or family issue?"
"No, no, no... absolutely not... I don't know how to explain it, but... Have you watched Your Name?"
"Yeah..."
"There, both Taki and Mitsuha have this feeling, this unexplainable hold over each other... even though they don't know anything about each other... Imagine that feeling, but over something very, very insignificant... Like just a single conversation, drawing you the fuck in..."
"Is it about some bitch that's turned you into Aristotle?"
"Yep, that's it. You are not the one to talk to, for fuck's sake."
"What do you mean, bitch? If you want to move on, just drink and fuck..."
"..."
"Really, bitch? Again with the silent treatment? Man, fuck you, bitch!"
"..."
"Oh! Fuck YOU..."
Zaire, peering into the stars, aimed to find constellations—hoping to ignore that strange tug in his heart.
But what he saw during his search enthralled him.
In the night sky, illuminated only by the white pearl, a brilliant purple body struck the Northern Star.
Then—
[Sssss... VHUOM, VHUOM, VHUOM...]
The purple collision ignited the beginning of a pulsating, grand cosmic spectacle.
"What the fuck?"
The earlier conflicted—now bewildered—young man nudged his friend hard.
Ari, whose eyes were latched onto his phone screen, took a few moments before following Zaire's pointing arm to the sky.
"What the fuck?"
Both friends sat in silence, utterly bewitched by the purple extravaganza.
The world, after the brilliant stellar crash, entered a state of bizarre panic.
An invasion had happened. Not of spacemen, nor of aliens, but of an inexplicable energy.
The energy was enchanting to some and corrupting to many. Feelings, thoughts, emotions—all the nuanced aspects that made up men were scraped out like a scalpel on skin.
Men always beget chaos, but men with emotions on their sleeve?
A recipe for anarchy.
But this energy affected not only men, but also beasts. And as they are organisms of no conscience, ferocity consumed them.
On the summit of a little hill, Zaire fearfully stared at his convulsing friend.
The boy's twitching body curled into a cradle position as he let out a haunting scream.
Eyes bloodshot, veins purple-black.
The painful screech made Zaire anxious.
"Hey, Ari... What the fuck, man! Bro, you are fucking scaring me, dude!... Aight..."
Zaire, adrenaline coursing through his veins, picked his buddy up in a princess carry.
"Fuck this shit, man... I always tell you to take care of your body more. But... ah! Dimfuckingwit!"
Ari's convulsions turned up a notch.
His arms strained, and they repeatedly thudded against his head—hard and continuous.
Foam and saliva leaked from his gaping mouth. His tongue twisted like a spiral.
His screams of pain turned into ones of horror—no longer a product of man.
Zaire couldn't hold him any longer, and the twisting body fell from his grasp.
"AAAARRGHHH... NAGH..."
Grating roars escaped Ari's twisted mouth. Then, he rose.
Each cell in his body seemed to come alive as his form bulged and moved.
The twisted howling was now accompanied by something more horrific, something that sent chills down Zaire's spine.
Ari grew.
He grew significantly.
"What the fuck..."
Zaire ran from his transforming friend.
Ari's nails and teeth jutted out as his voice grew hoarser.
One knew not what Ari saw, but he chased his friend of fifteen years.
The hill was steep, and Zaire, a human, could only maintain a little pace in his descent.
But Ari—oh, he jumped and chased Zaire like a goddamn beast.
Finding a small ledge, Zaire turned. He had to do something right then and there, or he would be caught soon.
Zaire used to be a fighter. A Mixed Martial Artist.
Accomplished in the local scene, but he'd given it up after an injury to the back of his head.
He had healed, but the fear always lingered.
The feeling of hot plastic wrapping still chained Zaire down.
But he had to fight now.
He had to fight his friend for his own survival.
Taking a wide boxing stance, Zaire made up his mind to launch a brutal overhand at the oncoming beast.
And that is exactly what he did.
Leaning inches back to avoid a swipe, he twisted his hips, and the overhand uncoiled like a serpent on a frog.
Bang.
Zaire's knuckles hit Ari square in the face.
The punch stunned the beast. And Zaire continued.
Bang.
The right overhand was followed by a left uppercut—aimed at the body.
Then, he dove.
A beautiful double-leg was perfectly executed on the stunned, mindless beast.
Zaire took Ari down and mounted him.
From the mount, Zaire hugged Ari, aiming to immobilize him.
But the beast forgot his friend.
Opening his mouth, Ari lodged his teeth into Zaire's shoulder.
"ARRGHH!"
Tears streamed from the young man's eyes, and he cried out:
"Brother... please... please... get up, man. Why, brother... why! BRROOTHHEERR!!!"
The beast paid no heed as he chomped down on his friend's shoulder harder.
It started moving its head, and Zaire's shoulder began to tear.
The pain Zaire felt in his soul overrode his physical pain.
Ari's descent into madness was incomprehensible.
It was unacceptable.
This was his second tussle with Ari.
The first one, fifteen-ish years ago, when they were in first grade.
But in this tussle, one of them was going to die.
Zaire didn't have the courage to kill his friend.
All he could do was cry and be eaten by him.
"ARRGH... bud... kill me... please."