2026-01-15 17:26:23Sakura saw it.
Her face flushed crimson—veins bulging across her neck and forehead like cords about to snap. Her breathing turned ragged, animal. “It’s all because of YOU!” she screamed. She charged. Grabbed the woman by the throat. Slammed her into the ground—hard enough to crack tile. Then she started punching—fists flying, over and over, caving the face in with wet, meaty thuds. The woman tried to stab—Sakura blocked without looking, kicking the scissors away in one brutal motion. The woman screamed—high, broken—as Sakura kept going. Punching. Smacking. Beating her skull into pulp. Blood splattered across Sakura’s clothes, her face, her hair—dark red streaks on pale skin. She didn’t care. All she repeated, voice sweet and shattered: “You hurt the ones I love the most. You have to pay.” Punch. “You have to pay.” Punch. “You have to pay.” Until the woman’s once-pretty face was unrecognizable—swollen, pulped, ruined beyond anything human. Then the mutilated face shifted—fear twisting into a sick, trembling smile. Sakura didn’t hesitate. She snatched the fallen scissors. Stabbed them straight into the forehead—deep, final. The woman convulsed once. Then melted—wet ink pouring out, pooling black on the floor, dissolving into nothing. Akito rushed forward, dropping to his knees beside Raito, hands pressing hard against the chest wound where blood bubbled up dark and fast. Sakura kicked his arm away—hard—tears streaming down her face. “No!” she cried, voice breaking. “It’s all my fault! It’s all my fault!” She rocked back and forth, hands hovering uselessly over Raito, too scared to touch him, convinced pressure would only hurt him more. “Please don’t die,” she sobbed, words tumbling out in a frantic whisper. “Not now. Not yet. We still have time… we still have time to get to know each other… to be families… to have kids together…” Akito froze mid-motion, eyes wide. “Wait—what? Kids?” He shoved her back—gentle but firm. “He’s going to die if we don’t stop the bleeding!” he snapped, panic cracking his voice. Sakura blinked through tears, suddenly small and lost. “How…?” she whispered. “What should I do?” Akito swallowed hard, hands shaking. “I’ll tie off the wound. Then we find the stairs to the next floor. But I need something to—” A sharp tearing sound cut him off. Sakura had ripped half her skirt clean off—no hesitation, no second thought. She thrust the fabric at him, voice trembling but steady. “Use this.” Akito stared for half a second—then took it, nodding fast. He used the torn fabric to wrap Raito’s chest wound tight, knotting it hard enough to slow the bleeding. Blood still seeped through, dark and sticky, but it was the best they could do. He hooked Raito’s arm over his shoulder and hauled him up, staggering under the weight. Sakura paused at the doorway—then reached back, snatched a golf club from one of the shelves. She jumped ahead, leading the way, grip white-knuckled on the club. They stumbled into a long passage that opened into a wide hall. At the far end stood the giant man—head dangling loose around his boneless neck, swinging like a pendulum. The moment he saw them, he charged—slow at first, then faster, massive feet thundering. “Run!” Sakura’s voice cracked out—no longer soft, no longer timid. Authoritative. Commanding. “Don’t let Raito get a single scratch!” She charged straight toward the monster. “I won’t let you get him!” she yelled, golf club raised high. Akito turned his back, staggering forward with Raito draped over him, legs shaking, trying to run. He fell. Hard. He twisted, looking back—just in time to see Sakura go to work. The creature swiped its massive hand—aiming to smash her into the wall. She slid under it, low and graceful, like she’d been born moving like that. The golf club swung in a perfect arc—cracked against its ankle with a sickening crunch. The foot dislocated, leg buckling sideways. The creature let out a loud, wet squeal—head lolling wildly—and dropped lower on one side. It swung its dangling head like a wrecking ball. It crashed into Sakura—sent her hurtling through the passage, body tumbling across the floor. The creature rose again—walking on its ruined leg like the pain didn’t exist—heading straight for her, ready to finish the job. “Hey, dangling!” Akito shouted, voice raw, desperate. “Come get me, you freak!” It stopped. Turned. Head swinging loose. It started toward Akito—painfully slow, but every step felt like it closed the distance in a heartbeat. Akito struggled to pull Raito along—no strength left. He collapsed again, back against the wall, Raito limp beside him. The creature loomed. “You called me,” it rumbled, voice deep and wet, head dangling inches from Akito’s face. Akito turned away, gagging at the smell—rotting meat and something worse. He closed his eyes. “At least… I’ll die knowing I had friends.” The creature raised its massive hand. Brought it down—crashing speed. And then… “I told you,” Sakura’s voice roared from behind the creature, raw and furious, “do NOT lay your filthy hands on my Raitoooo!” She charged—golf club swinging like a war axe—aimed dead at its knee. CRACK. The leg dislocated completely—bone popping free with a sickening snap. The creature’s aim shattered—its massive hand slammed the floor inches from Akito and Raito, cratering tile and sending them flying backward in a spray of debris and dust. Sakura didn’t pause. She swung again. And again. And again. Dislocating arms. Legs. Until the once-giant thing was barely her height—broken, twisted, ruined. With one final, graceful swing, she smashed its dangling skull. It convulsed once—head lolling loose—then melted into inky sap, pooling black on the floor, dissolving into nothing. Sakura turned, breathing hard, blood-streaked and wild-eyed. She ran to them—helped Akito haul Raito up. They staggered forward—into the hallway ahead. Inside: children. Not normal children. Glassy children—translucent, fragile, every movement making sharp cracking sounds, shards falling like broken tears. “Awwn,” Sakura whispered, eyes lighting up despite everything. “They’re so cute.” Akito’s voice cracked. “Yeah… but we don’t have time. Raito’s dying.” “Yeah,” Sakura said softly. “Let’s go.” But before they could move— One small glassy baby waddled forward. Its delicate hand touched Sakura’s leg. Her eyes sparkled—pure joy. She scooped it up. “It’s just so cute—” The baby’s hand sharpened—needle-like. It slashed across her cheek. Sakura yelped—flung it away. It shattered on impact—glass exploding into glittering shards. The cut wasn’t deep. But the other glassy children saw. Their features turned sharp—edges gleaming like blades. They charged—jumping over each other, climbing, reaching. Sakura swung the golf club—smashing them aside, clearing a path to the door ahead. Akito followed, Raito limp on his back. One grabbed Akito’s leg—he stomped its hand—shattered it—and kept running. They reached the door. Glassy children still chasing—cracking, squealing. They threw it open. Stairs. Upward. They charged across the line—back to the real world.
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Chapter 28
"So this sword is special," Sonny said, his voice dripping with dark delight as he examined Hank's blade—now in his own hand. "It cuts through anything. Doesn't matter what it is."Hank tilted his head slightly, shades reflecting the wreckage."And so?"Sonny's smile stretched wider, almost splitting his face."Well… since you mentioned you were a fan of mine back when I was alive, I'll give you the honor of dying by a perfect replica of your own sword."He raised his brush and moved it in a clean, precise arc.A perfect copy of Hank's sword materialized, identical down to the smallest nick in the blade.Sonny raised it high.Hank let out a small, amused smile.Sonny swung downward, vicious.The blade sliced through the hot bars of the cage like butter.Hank dodged—barely—rolling out as the bars melted and collapsed around him.He snatched his original sword from the rubble and twirled it once.Sonny lunged again.Hank parried. Steel clanged against steel.Then, with a clean, effortle
Chapter 27
The man laughed—louder, wilder, excitement bubbling over like he’d just discovered the meaning of life. “This is so fun!” he cried, brush twirling in his fingers. “Are there more of you hiding in there?” No answer. Just Raito—still on his knees, blood dripping from every cut—staring at the ground. Then—quietly, almost to himself— “I understand it now.” He rose slowly. Walked past Akito, who lay curled on the rooftop, sobbing, clutching the stump of his arm. “I understand it now,” Raito repeated, voice calm, steady, like a mantra. He kept walking toward the man. “How I wish I knew it earlier,” he said softly. “But it doesn’t really matter. Because I understand it now.” The man’s joy flickered—concern creeping in. “Are you that eager to die?” he asked, tilting his head. Raito didn’t reply. He just kept walking—chanting low. “I understand it now.” The man’s smile faltered. “Well… if that’s what you want,” he said, raising the brush again, “it’ll be my pleasure.” He swun
Chapter 26
Raito carried Sakura like a bride—arms under her knees and back, her head resting against his shoulder. Blood from her cuts soaked into his shirt, dripping slow trails down his arms. “Let’s go,” he said, voice low, anger simmering under every word. Akito stood frozen—eyes wide, staring at her limp form. “It’s all my fault,” he whispered. “What was I supposed to do? How was I supposed to know it was going to explode?” Tears slipped down his cheeks. “I’m such a bad friend. I’m not even worthy to be called her friend. All I’ve ever done is use her—use the feelings she had for you—to save my own life. I don’t deserve to live. I should be dead.” He choked on the last word—shoulders shaking. Raito walked over—still carrying Sakura—calm, deliberate. Then he gave Akito a serious headbutt—forehead to forehead, firm enough to sting. “You’re right,” Raito said, voice steady but edged with steel. “You’re a terrible friend who exploited her feelings for yourself. And being dead doesn’t ju
Chapter 25
Raito frowned at the mirror for a long second, then a slow smile spread across his face. Akito and Sakura exchanged confused glances. “What’s with the grin?” Akito asked. “I’ve got an idea,” Raito said, eyes lighting up. “Since they can only attack us with whatever we touch the mirror with… then I’ve got to try this out.” “Try what out?” Akito pressed. Raito just smirked. “Just watch me.” He started walking toward the mirror—purposeful, steady steps. Closer. Closer. Closer. Until his breath hit the glass—hot fog blooming in a wide, horizontal line across the surface. He kept exhaling—long, deliberate—stretching the fog further, creating a misty barrier that ended abruptly even though he was still breathing. The mirror fogged perfectly—except for one thin, untouched strip where the reflection didn’t match. Raito’s smile widened. He’d found an opening. But the moment he tried to straighten up— He stumbled. Just a fraction. His lips brushed the mirror. And his reflect
Chapter 24
They searched the whole rooms, but couldn’t find Sakura until they reached an open door. Still searching for her, Akito stepped inside just to check if she was hiding there. The moment he did—he disappeared. Gone. Like he’d stepped through a curtain of nothing. Raito lunged forward instinctively, hand outstretched—but stopped himself cold. He knew. Akito was out. Back in the real world. Safe. If Raito followed now, he might not be able to come back. And Sakura might still be trapped here—alone, in danger. He couldn’t leave her. So he stayed. Raito did a thorough search of the hospital—revisiting every room, checking lockers, under beds, behind curtains, anywhere she could possibly hide. His footsteps echoed in the empty corridors, the only sound besides his own breathing. Still nothing. Until… A faint, moaning sob drifted from somewhere ahead. He traced it—slow, careful—down a dim hallway to a mechanical room. The door was cracked open, faint light spilling out. There sh
Chapter 23
“What the hell are you?” Akito asked, slowly pushing himself up, battered and bruised, voice hoarse from the pain. The thing that used to be Doctor Harry Kane tilted its head—smile stretching too wide, skin rippling like water over something wrong underneath. “I am something you can never comprehend.” Its arm stretched—impossibly long, blurring through the air—and crashed toward them. Raito and Sakura dodged in opposite directions—barely. The hand slammed into the wall behind them, leaving a crater of shattered plaster and exposed rebar. It swung again—left to right, sweeping low. They scattered—tables overturned, white cloths flying off, revealing covered corpses beneath. Severed parts—limbs, heads, cocks—tumbled across the floor in a grotesque rain. Akito’s stomach lurched. For a moment he thought about how Sakura would react—her obsession, her fixation—but to his surprise, she stayed eerily calm. Didn’t even glance at the flying cocks. Just kept her eyes on Raito.
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