Howl to the Moon (Haikyuu Omegaverse)

Chapter 12: The Beast

Inzai City in Chiba Prefecture, north of Tokyo, was a desolate place. The local people who had lived for centuries in the small houses around the dense forest near the Takefukuro Shrine had fled years ago when the troubles had started. The village had emptied at lightning speed and not a single pure human was left there. The hunters had established a base with 10 guild members, but it was an unprecedented number for a small town where there had never been any werewolf attacks.

Until he arrived. The Beast.

All 10 hunters stationed at the site had died in the blink of an eye the first night he had arrived. The next day, they sent 30 more hunters. But they died just as quickly as the previous ones. Since then, that neglected territory had grown wild, dominated by someone who didn't care much for appearances.

Midnight was lugubrious and tenebrous in the middle of that wooded wasteland, full of tall trees, gray buildings each one far from the rest,and no major roads or thoroughfares. Rather, it was a village away from the bustle of the big cities; the population that had lived there had averaged 73 years of age, very different from urban zones. Everything was silent, dark, covered with shadow and a thick mist that swirled and twisted like ephemeral wisps of smoke at ground level. It seemed that the entire world had collapsed, the leaves and bark of the trees covered by tiny drops of water caused by humidity. Bats plagued the black sky, they all camouflaged in darkness. The moon was in a new phase, and only starlight illuminated the gloomy streets, deserted and dead.

It was wintry cold; it slipped through the crack in the old, broken window, and the temperature contrasted with the inside, fogging up the scratched glass. Despite the fact that the window was closed, the building was old and the isolation left much to be desired: small threads of mist crept in along with the cold, although they disappeared almost immediately when they came in contact with the warmth of the —almost consumed— candle that remained lit. It was the only source of light that illuminated the room. The candle cast weak beams of light that collided with the young man's face, creating a shadow on the wall behind where the window was located, a shadow that danced to the rhythm of the candle flame. The room was dim and utterly silent, except for the flapping of the bats outside and the pounding of his own heart, beating rhythmically in his rib cage.

The smell of antiseptic flooded his senses and left him momentarily drowsy before he snapped back to consciousness when he felt the sharp blade of a scalpel against his chest. Blood spurted from the open wound and a high-pitched screech tore through the air. But in a matter of seconds, the wound was closed. The woman glanced at the clock on the wall, removed her mask, and smirked.

"You can do better than this."

His eyes showed fear as the woman replaced the mask and raised the scalpel to drive it back into the bloodstained skin. She tore the skin and muscle over the breastbone again. A new shriek echoed through the room.

Sakusa's elbow was propped on the dark ebony desk, which was old and worn, full of scratches and chips. The candle had dropped the melted wax onto the surface and now there was a condensed puddle around it, staining everything around it with a thick layer of ivory bubbles. A crumpled photograph with spent ink was beside the candle. It was splattered with wax; Sakusa wasn't looking at it, he didn't have to. He had been staring at it for hours, he had memorized every detail, every miniscule detail it showed. He had carefully studied the atrocity practiced on the body that the image showed, and now he did not need to look at it, since it had been burned on his retina. Now his eyes were lost in the fluttering candle flame, which cast undulating orange flashes over his face, still stained with droplets of the hunter's blood he had killed a few hours earlier; the whole scene gave Sakusa a reverential look of sinister respect.