Rain and the Broken Clock — The Time That Stopped for Cherry - Deep in the alley, the truth that sneers

The rain had been falling since morning, as if tracing the outline of a name that had vanished. Sunday afternoon. In the north-facing window of Room 403, Building B, Minami Housing Complex, a gray sky clung flatly to the glass. Kuroki Kurenai sat staring at the smartphone she'd placed on the kotatsu. The screen trembled. The third DM. The sender was the same as always. Her own name—the one she had burned along with her diary three years ago. Kurenai tapped the screen with her fingertip. "Look at the back." Just that. Nothing more. Kurenai stared at those three words for a while. (Look at the back.) (An imperative.) The previous two messages had been different. The first one said, "This is the second time you've read this." The second said, "You erased me." Both had a tone that seemed to address Kurenai directly—somehow victim-like. But this time was different. (Cold.) (A commanding tone, as if pushing me away.) Kurenai laid the smartphone face-down on the kotatsu. Her heart was making an unpleasant sound. (Is the sender really me?) (Or is it something else?) Kurenai slowly exhaled. On the kotatsu was a notebook that had been left open since last night. At the edge of the page, in Kurenai's handwriting, was written "you." Over and over, as if overwriting it again and again. (Yesterday, I said it.) (That I love you.) To someone whose name she didn't even know. To a woman who devours names, who has no words. Kurenai closed the notebook. —In front of the closet. An old diary lay on the floor. Black cover. Worn corners. A spine peeling away. Last night, it had opened on its own and told Kurenai: "Tomorrow, the truth will laugh in the depths of the alley." Kurenai picked up the diary. (Look at the back.) The DM's words repeated in her head. The back cover of the diary. Kurenai had never once peeled back that back cover. (Why?) (Why didn't I notice until now?) She hooked her fingertip on the edge of the back cover. Slowly, she peeled it back. The paper curled up little by little, leaving the resistance of old glue. —It appeared. The inside of the back cover. There, words were written. Not Kurenai's handwriting. Distorted characters, as if something thin and gaunt had crawled across the page. "The true form of the name you erased is the erased side." Kurenai simply stared at that single sentence. Her breath stopped. (The true form of the name I erased is—) (The erased side.) Three years ago. In the depths of the alley, Kurenai had torn pages from the diary and burned them. Her own name. She erased it. With her own hands, her own name. (That time, what I burned—) (Was it really my name?) Kurenai's fingertips gripped the edge of the diary. The paper crinkled. (This diary isn't mine.) (It's the record of the other me—the one I erased.) (That's what it was.) Kurenai held the diary to her chest. Outside the window, the rain was growing stronger. The sound of rain pressed into the room. —Then. She heard it. A laughing voice. A low, damp laughing voice, like the sound of rain. From the depths of the alley. Kurenai raised her head. (It's him.) (Yaseta Nanika.) (Sniffing out the scent of my name.) Kurenai stood up, still holding the diary to her chest. Her legs were trembling. (I have to go.) (I have to see the truth.) Kurenai headed for the entryway. She put on her sneakers. Her fingers wouldn't move properly as she tied the laces. (I'm scared.) (But I'm going.) Kurenai opened the door. Damp air flowed in. The smell of rain. The smell of old concrete. And faintly, a stale, rotting odor. Kurenai stepped outside. —The north side of Minami Housing Complex. The L-shaped alley. A narrow passage one street back from the main road. Normally it looked like a dead end. But today was different. When Kurenai stood at the entrance of the alley, a path continuing deeper emerged faintly in the mist. (It's open.) (Today only, it continues to the back.) Kurenai adjusted her hold on the diary. The rain wet her hair. Her black short hair clung to her forehead. She took a step forward. The alley walls were mossy and dark. The rain made the ground slippery. Kurenai pressed a hand against the wall and slowly advanced deeper. —There were marks on the wall. Countless old teeth marks. Bite marks carved deep into the concrete, as if gouged out. Kurenai stopped. (This—) (Three years ago, the marks where I was bitten.) Kurenai looked at her left arm. Three years ago, something had bitten her in the alley. The scar had already faded. But the teeth marks on the wall remained, vivid and raw. (My marks are here too.) (That time, I was also here—) Kurenai gently touched the teeth marks on the wall with her fingertip. Cold. —From the depths of the alley, a laughing voice echoed. A low voice, like the sound of rain. Kurenai pulled back her finger. (I have to keep going.) (I can't run away.) Kurenai held the diary tighter and walked further in. The alley grew narrower and narrower. Less than a meter wide. The walls on both sides pressed in on Kurenai's shoulders. The stale smell grew stronger. The sound of rain echoed in the alley, sounding strangely loud. —The laughing voice. She heard it again. Close. Right there. Kurenai stopped. The deepest part of the alley. Something was there. —Yaseta Nanika. A dark shadow without a human outline. Gray hair falling out in patches. Scalp visible. Eyes like dark holes that didn't reflect light. And a mouth. Teeth in numbers no human mouth should have, lined up in rows. The thing was laughing. A low, damp laughing voice, like the sound of rain. "Shhh... shhh... So you came, huh." Kurenai stepped back. Her back hit the wall. (I want to run.) (But my legs won't move.) Yaseta Nanika slowly approached Kurenai. No—it wasn't approaching. As if seeping out from the depths of the alley, its presence spread out before Kurenai. "I remember you real well, y'know." Kurenai, still clutching the diary to her chest, forced out her voice. "...You're—" "I'm a nameless one. A thing that infests the alley, uncalled. I know the scent of the name you threw away here three years ago real well." Kurenai's throat stung. "You know... my name?" "Know it? Hell, I ate your name." —Ate it. Kurenai felt the world go dark before her eyes. "Shhh... shhh... Do you remember what you burned here three years ago?" Kurenai couldn't answer. "A page from the diary. A page with your name written on it. You tore it out and burned it. Right?" "...Yes." "That wasn't your name." Kurenai raised her head. "...What?" "That was the other you—the one you erased. The other you who had a name." —What was it saying? "You thought you erased your own name. But what you really erased was the name of the other you that lived inside you. The erased side." Something spun around and around in Kurenai's head. (What I erased—) (Wasn't my name.) (It was the name of the other me.) "And y'see, that woman—the name-devouring vampire—was born from the remnants of that burned side." Kurenai's breathing stopped. (That woman—) (From the remnants of the other me that I erased—) (Was born.) "That woman followed the scent of your name and came to this city. To devour you. But at the same time, she wants your name. She's wavering on the boundary between salvation and prey." Kurenai pressed a hand against the wall. Her legs were shaking. "Shhh... shhh... I ate your name. But I remember the taste of your name real well. The taste I left uneaten. That's why I remember you so well." —The taste left uneaten. Kurenai felt her body slowly growing cold. "How do you feel right now? Sad? Frustrated? Scared?" Kurenai tried to say something. But no voice came out. "Shhh... shhh... You can't even laugh or cry anymore, can you?" Kurenai touched her own cheek. It was wet. It was because of the rain. Not tears. (I can't cry.) (I can't laugh.) (My emotions have stopped.) Anger, fear, despair. Everything was frozen at the back of her throat. Her tear ducts and vocal cords had ceased to function. (I—) (Feel nothing right now.) Kurenai slowly removed her hand from the alley wall. "Are you okay with that? Losing your name, losing your emotions—and you still plan to live?" Kurenai didn't answer. She couldn't answer. "Shhh... shhh... Well, fine. I ate your name. That's enough. Your name still lives inside me. As the taste I left uneaten." Yaseta Nanika laughed and disappeared into the depths of the alley. Only the laughing voice, like the sound of rain, remained in the alley for a while. —Kurenai stood alone at the deepest part of the alley. The rain kept falling. It wet Kurenai's body coldly. (The true form of the name I erased is the erased side.) (That woman was born from the side I erased.) (I thought I erased my own name.) (But really, I erased the other me.) Kurenai, still holding the diary to her chest, slowly turned back through the alley. Her footsteps mixed with the sound of rain. With an emotionless face, Kurenai walked. —She passed through the parking lot after the rain. In the puddles, the gray sky was reflected. Cherry blossoms were no longer dancing. Kurenai stopped for just a moment in the middle of the parking lot. (That day, I met her here.) (In the parking lot after the rain.) (She appeared from the surface of the puddle.) Kurenai peered into a puddle. Her own face reflected on the water's surface. Her black short hair, wet from the rain, clung to her forehead. Tired, deep brown eyes. A faded gray hoodie. And an expressionless face, emotions erased. (This is me.) (Me, without emotions.) Kurenai looked away from the puddle and headed for Minami Housing Complex. —She opened the door to Room 403. The room was dim and quiet. Only the sound of rain could be heard in the distance. Kurenai took off her sneakers at the entryway and went inside. —She was there. The name-devouring woman. Sitting beside the kotatsu. Black hair reaching her waist. Though wet from the rain, it looked dry. Her ash-brown eyes were gazing at Kurenai. The woman said nothing. Because she had no words. But she seemed to sense that Kurenai's emotions had stopped. Kurenai stood before the woman. "...I'm home." The woman gave a small nod. Kurenai sat down in front of the kotatsu. She placed the diary on the kotatsu. "Hey." Kurenai looked at the woman's face. "I'll call your name." The woman's ash-brown eyes wavered slightly. "I'll give you a name." Kurenai's voice was flat, devoid of emotion. But the words came clearly from her mouth. (I know this is the most dangerous gamble.) (Giving a name means fattening the other and starving yourself.) (But even so.) (I want to give you a name.) Kurenai took the woman's hand. A cold hand. The woman didn't squeeze back. She just stared at Kurenai's face. "I'll call your name." Kurenai said it again. —In that instant. A sound came from the corner of the room. Click. Kurenai raised her head. The corner of the room. On top of the bookshelf. The broken clock. That clock, stopped at 7:01. It chimed once. Click. Kurenai stared at the clock. (The clock chimed.) (The clock stopped at 7:01—) (For the first time, it made a sound.) Kurenai looked at the woman's face. The woman placed her fingertip on the back of Kurenai's hand. Cold fingertips. A chilly temperature clung to Kurenai's skin. But Kurenai wasn't having her body heat stolen. From her fingertips, she felt a warmth being kindled. (It's cold.) (But hot.) Kurenai looked at the woman's fingers. White, slender fingers. (This person wants to eat my name.) (But at the same time, she wants my name.) (She's wavering on the boundary between salvation and prey.) Kurenai gently grasped the woman's fingers. The woman didn't pull away. —How long had they been like that? The woman slowly stood up. Without a sound. Her fingers slipp

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Episode 5

Name: Rain and the Broken Clock — The Time That Stopped for Cherry
Author: Novelia

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