I was in my third year of college when Mizuo enrolled as a member of our club and my relationship with Ebizuka grew especially strained. The details of our dispute are rather asinine, and I’ve no intent to relay them here. Believe me. It is not an amusing tale.
At the time, worldly desire had robbed me of all capacity for rational thought. I’d abandoned my studies and all other constructive activities in favor of the ongoing scheme to secure Mizuo’s affections. Shikama was spurring me on, and Ido was assisting from the shadows, fueled by a particularly fervent loathing of Ebizuka. Looking back, I must admit that as potent as they were in undermining the competition, Ido’s machinations really were quite unsettling.
In any case, Ebizuka was ultimately forced to withdraw from the running.
Being a year ahead of me, he was also nearing graduation. His time in the club was coming to an end, and that winter, we arranged a farewell party. Ebizuka arrived clad in antiquated Japanese-style clothing, tantamount to cosplay of Ryoma Sakamoto. I’ve no idea what the man was trying to prove.
The after-party was held at a cozy little restaurant in Kiyamachi with traditional decor. Sliding paper shutters concealed the windows, beyond which could be heard the gentle babbling of the Takase River.
The evening’s menu was hot pot. Ebizuka and I happened to be seated opposite one another, thus sharing a pot. That evening, he pointedly refrained from forcing any drinks upon me, which, if anything, I found more unsettling than his typical behavior. He did, however, stare at me all throughout the meal, eyes sharp and gleaming.
“Where’s your appetite?” he urged at one point. “Come on. Eat up!”
I was anxious for the meal to end. I poked at the contents of the hot pot restlessly, unwisely consuming several oysters that had yet to be thoroughly cooked.
Eventually, Ebizuka grew inebriated, and out came the decorative sword. Even knowing it wasn’t a functional blade, I still found it oddly terrifying. It possessed a strange intensity in Ebizuka’s hands. He said nothing, only weaving and twisting the weapon through the air this way and that. The blade glinted each time it caught the light overhead.
Suddenly, he was up on his feet. I flinched, fearing I was about to be cut down. Instead, Ebizuka turned, threw open the shutters, and climbed over the windowsill and out into the cold. Everyone in attendance sat frozen in shock.
After a moment, there was a great splashing sound, and we rushed to the windows to find Ebizuka kicking and flailing about in the Takase.
“Come at me!” he shouted. The blade flashed once under the Kiyamachi streetlights as Ebizuka lunged at some unseen foe or object. Then he dashed off into the night and was gone.
That was the last I saw of Ebizuka.
According to other acquaintances in the club, he never returned—not even to pay his share of the dinner bill.
✦ ✦ ✦
My eyes opened to a long, slow scratching noise.
I checked the clock. Two in the morning.
The scratching came again, and I sat up in bed. It sounded like claws slowly raking their way up and down my thin wooden door. There was a great thud, and I heard my door rattle from the impact. I leaped to my feet. I was still standing among the folds of my futon when the next thud reverberated throughout my lodgings. Thud. Thud. Someone was slamming their fist against my door, trying to break it down. I had little faith in the flimsy wooden construction. Surely it wouldn’t hold up to much punishment. Scarcely had the worry entered my mind when the door did break—a thick, burly arm punched a hole right through and was jutting into my room. Despite the season, his shirtsleeve was rolled up past the elbow, exposing a thick, shaggy coat of hair on his forearm. It was the muscled, revolting arm of a man among men.
“I know you’re in there!”
The ferocious yell quaked its way through the pit of my stomach.
Ebizuka had returned.
“Um…! No need to get angry,” I cried. “Whatever this is about, I’m sure I can explain!”
“Oh, I already know everything. That’s why I’m here. I’ve come to kill you.”
“Um! Uh! You really shouldn’t say things like that! It could be construed as a threat. You might get arrested!”
The arm, now jammed up to its socket, lunged in my direction.
“Just when I thought I was finally going to be happy,” he growled, “you had to come along and mess it all up. Bet you thought it was real funny, huh? You get the girl while I’m left out in the cold. You bastard. You should be ashamed to call yourself a man!”
“Now, now, I think that’s taking things a bit—”
“All I wanted was an ordinary, happy life! How dare you come along and screw it up?!”
“Don’t you think that’s a bit of an exaggeration?”
My body felt sluggish and uncooperative. I tried to inch toward the far wall, curling up to make myself as small as possible.
“You ruined my life! Everything that’s happened since is your fault. All of it! Oh, am I gonna enjoy tearing you apart, limb by limb.”
Ebizuka roared, tears in his voice, and began slamming against the door with even more intensity. The flimsy slab of wood creaked and groaned. It began to splinter, and then it gave way entirely. Ebizuka broke through, a horrific mix of man and some terrible new entity.
That was when I woke up.