"…I could swear it was around here somewhere…" she said, rummaging through her hoodie pockets again and again, the constant sound of her metal claws was starting to wear down my patience.
"Uh… look, I don't mean to meddle in other people's business, but I can't help wondering how you managed to get dressed in the first place. I mean, there's no way those huge claws fit through the sleeves of your hoodie," I said, watching as she used the tips of her fingers to pull out a key from one of her pockets.
"Oh, that… it's simpl—" she froze for a moment. "Wait, are you saying you imagined me getting dressed!?Do you seriously have no filter when you talk or what!?" She got so flustered that the key slipped from her claws, falling onto the bed. It looked like an old door key, honestly not strange at all, but when I picked it up, it felt both as light as a feather and as heavy as a mountain at the same time. I could sense the distortion in its weight, but there was no tactile feeling, like when you touch a numb finger.
"Got it, alright, I'll shut up, relax," I sighed, still marveling at how incredibly detailed the key was. "What am I supposed to do with this? Go around testing doors one by one until I find the right one?"
Her claws closed around my hand tightly, whether from my comment or her lingering frustration from earlier, I wasn't sure. "Are you always this funny?" But it was obvious that crushing my bones to the point of almost breaking them brought her some kind of satisfaction.
"I didn't make it, so keep your critiques to yourself. But yeah, it's small,easy to lose, and kind of a cliché," she said, releasing my hand. "But it's not mine, I stole it from my brother. So, if you ever run into him, complain to him."
"Your… brother… sure…"
"Yup! I have a ton of siblings, like a thousand or so, but Yog is the only one who makes things like this," she pointed at the key.
"…Yog…?"
"Yog-Sothoth," she added, scratching her cheek with her index finger.
That name was strange, but I could swear I'd heard it somewhere before. I felt like a detective in my own mind, rummaging through old memories, trying to recall where that name sounded familiar from. One of those many books I never finished reading, probably. "Yog-Sothoth… Yog-Sothoth… Ah! I got it! Isn't he part of the myths written by Lovecr—" She lunged at me, covering my mouth before I could finish speaking. It was a frantic impulse, almost as if she was choking me.
"You idiot! Do you even know what a copyright infringement is!? We're just getting started, and you almost ruined everything. You'd better learn to shut up before I rip your tongue out and make you watch me devour it."
I thought about her words for a moment, they felt out of place. Was she talking to me or to someone else? I leaned back, letting myself fall onto the bed completely, still holding the key, though I was no longer analyzing it—just distracted by it. "Ripping my tongue out and eating it… that's a strange way of saying you want to kiss me."
"Enough."
"Okay, I'll try to hold back."
"I'm not joking!" she huffed, scratching the wall with her claws. That screeching sound echoed in my ears like nails on a chalkboard.
"I know, I'm just trying to understand and lighten things up. You should give me credit for staying so calm, don't you think?" I chuckled a little, again, it was an honest laugh. I almost worried about that, but my attention drifted back to the key. "Alright, what exactly am I supposed to do with this?"
"Ah! Uh…" She seemed to struggle too much to think, freezing several times as she searched for a response. Honestly, I thought she might be a bit dumb. "Just press it against your chest and turn it, like a normal key," she said, gesturing with her claws.
"Do I look like a lock to you?" Despite my objection, curiosity got the better of me. I placed the tip of the key against my chest, and it sank into my skin like it was gelatin. I felt cold, not the seasonal kind, but like absolute zero. I wanted to say something, ask, comment—anything—but the sensation consumed me more and more. I was a snowman, and the key was the carrot.
"Well done! Good boy, good boy… now… turn it!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands, entertained by the situation—or more accurately, by my reaction. The sound of her claws echoed louder.
I turned the key out of reflex. I heard a 'click' as if a rusted mechanism had moved, followed by indescribable pain, like my nerves were being sliced with a scalpel dipped in salt. It felt like my neurons were violently tearing apart. My vision blurred, my breathing grew more erratic, and my face contorted with pain as the world faded around me.
"Hehe… looks like there's no more jokes…" she whispered, narrowing her eyes with a grin from ear to ear. One of her fingers lightly brushed against my chest. "Just let go… see you in a bit."
There was no sensation after that. No light, no tunnel, nothing. Movies lie about that stuff, you know? I just opened my eyes, disoriented at first, with a wave of nausea that quickly faded when I saw the building in front of me. It had been a while since I'd left school, and though I didn't have fond memories of it, I remembered its structure like a photograph. I stood there, staring at the building, students chatting as they walked in, cars honking in the street behind me. But something didn't feel quite right, like a painting in grayscale. People refer to the past as the golden years, but this looked more like lead than gold.
"Ha! Alive, in one piece, and even standing, buddy!" she slapped me on the back like she hadn't seen me in centuries. I felt like my lungs nearly shifted out of place.
"What is this? Isn't time travel the go-to plot device for authors who've run out of ideas? No, forget that. There's something more important… why are you… dressed like a student?" I looked at her as she spun around, showing off her uniform. Everything looked normal, except for those claws. It seemed like something she couldn't change. "Oh, by the way, my name's Eiji. Did you really not plan on asking for my name?"
"I thought it would be better to stylize myself a bit. I like the retro look. Doesn't it suit me?" She paused for a moment, maybe expecting me to say something, but when I didn't, she continued, twirling a strand of her hair between her claws. "I read your name on your medical chart, stupid," she said, turning her gaze to the building in front of us. "Here's a hint: something was here and disappeared, something's here now that must disappear…" she chuckled quietly, covering her mouth with her claws as she pointed to the school.
I stared at the building with her. The hint wasn't very helpful. Students? Objects? A plot hole? I couldn't help but think she was being cryptic on purpose. I glanced at her briefly, trying to decipher what she was telling me between the lines, but quickly refocused on the building.
"I'm not going to look at you. I don't know where my eyes will land, but I'm sure it'll be below your waist."
She glanced at her legs, at the thigh-high socks covering them, and at her skirt, which for some reason was way too short. She stammered something as her face turned red, and she poked one of her fingers against my abdomen.
"That's on me! I-I knew you were going to say something like that, you stupid pig!" She pressed her finger against my stomach slightly. "I really feel like ripping your skin open and strangling you with your own intestines. Buuut! I guess I'll let it slide this time. After all… once we're done here, you probably won't feel like joking for a long time." She gave me a shove and headed toward the school without waiting for me to follow.
The stairs led us to the hallway on the second floor. The students seemed to ignore me, but they definitely couldn't take their eyes off her. She didn't even bother trying to hide her claws. They probably thought she was cosplaying or something like that.
"Idiots," I muttered as I watched them pass by, staring at her.
"Hehe… Are you jealous of some teenagers, E-i-j-i?" she teased, nudging me lightly with her elbow.
"No, not at all. Why do you think I let you go up the stairs first?"
"What!?"
"Nothing, nothing… see? I can be cryptic too, if I want to." I started to feel a bit more at ease in the situation. This back-and-forth with her was fun, even though there was a chance she might skin me alive.
Class 2B. The sign on the classroom door felt like a punch in the chest, as if something inside me short-circuited. I couldn't breathe; my head was spinning. Things my mind had buried deep were now clawing their way out from the grave.
"Hey... W-what is this...? What are we doing here?" I asked, my voice shaking, hoping for one of her usual absurd responses. I wanted her to speak in that familiar, sarcastic tone of hers, but for the first time, she looked at me with cold, dead eyes, as if I were invisible.
"April 24th, 2010. What comes to mind now?" she asked, barely paying attention to me, her gaze fixed on the window of the classroom, her voice calm yet sharp enough to cut through the air.
"Death," I muttered. My hand moved on its own toward the door, and I had to grab my wrist to stop it from trembling. Was I scared or anxious? She stopped me before I could open it, tapping her claws lightly on the window in a rhythm that was almost... musical.
"Anna's not here, and you know it," she repeated, her eyes now back on me. "Maybe you should try your luck on the school rooftop... don't you think? Or maybe she's already at the point where you'll need a shovel to peel her off the ground. Either way, go find her... 'hero'." She tilted her head, flashing a smile that froze me to my core.
Have you ever solved a Rubik's Cube? That sense of satisfaction when all the colors align perfectly on each side? Well, this was the opposite of that feeling.
It didn't take much to decode her strange message. Memories of that time, which was now, came rushing back. Anna had jumped from the school rooftop one spring morning. The teachers never spoke about it. We were given three days to mourn because we were her classmates. My parents forced me to go to her funeral; they practically had to drag me away from the RPG I'd just bought at the time. Looking back, I guess I never felt any real attachment to anything alive.
"…Hero, yeah, right." I muttered to myself as I climbed the spiral stairs to the roof, my mind a spiral of its own—descending into my own pathetic existence.
I stood in front of the metal door that led to the rooftop for a moment, part of me wondering what I'd do if I saw Anna, another part wondering what I'd do if I just saw her shadow falling, or worse—if I was already too late.
I turned the handle, opening the door slowly. The sunlight outside was blinding, and my eyes hadn't adjusted yet. The sound of the rusty hinges squeaking filled my ears, and I wondered if I should just turn around, head back down the stairs, walk straight out of school, and check myself into a psych ward.
"Three days of fake mourning and ten years of being forgotten," were Anna's words, laughing, as she sat on the edge of a rooftop beam, eating her lunch.
It wasn't her words that made me lose my balance, though they should have. No, I think it was the fact that she was hanging upside down from the beam. You know, gravity—the force that pulls objects with mass toward others with greater mass? I guess no one ever explained it to her.