Jigoku

prologue

04.48

The night reigns over Tokyo like a thick fog; it sneaks into every hidden corner, swallows entire buildings and threatens everyone with it's imposing attitude. Not even the city lights can hide such a presence- they shine like bleak candles along the streets, their flame impending to die. People can feel the dark tackle them, embrace them only to squeeze them, suffocate them and strangle them to death without a word passing the victim's lips.

Not everyone is aware of this phenomena: most people live freely without ever feeling the cold hand of midnight on their shoulder. Others are unable to put their finger on it, they feel a cold breeze of discomfort and get abolished with nausea, and decide to stay home.

Tomone knows what it feels like.

She clenches her eyes shut, squeezing so hard that stars appear behind her eyelids.

A wind blows up far away and plays with Tomones newly trimmed bangs, which dance lightly in the breeze. It's fresh and crisp, it leaves her body as stale as a loaf of fresh bread on the next day. Everything beside her face is paralysed. She can barely feel her body chin down, and desperately tries to calm her distraught heart with thoughts of positivity.

Yet her mind is blank. Not even a clean sheet of paper could compare to the utter lack of content in her head. She breathes in deeply through her nose- feels the slight tingle of the air followed by an acre smell of grime/dirt- and opens her eyes.

The scene before her is worse than anything she could've ever imagined.

Tomone is violently torn away from her trance. Suddenly, she feels everything.

Her heart is thumping hard against her ribcage, so much it practically hurts. In her head she can see the corners of a fist-sized organ ramming itself after every beat into a range of fragile bones. The stench is now stronger, it pecks the inside of her nose like a needle and brings tears to her eyes, making it hard for her to see. Her entire stomach is turned upside down, she can feel the food she ate this morning pushing at the back of her throat. The rest of her body is grasped by cramps. They hit unexpectedly: sometimes her gut is being massacred into minced meat, the next she'll feel her spine convulse into strange shapes. Her eyes are milky, the pupil is barely a spot in it's expanse, engulfed by the white liquid. Tomone's lips are parted into an empty call for help.

An excruciating kick in the gut awakes Tomone's voice. A piercing scream breaks the quiet fight, it scrapes through her dry throat like sandpaper and ultimately silences her cries. She battles the air before falling down on the ground, weak and trampled. Her eyelids flutter frenetically, desperately attempting to keep the young girl alive. They later fall down heavily, knocking her completely unconscious.

Tomone's body lays there, injured to it's very core but without a scrape on it's impeccable surface. Before her stands the most horrifying, revolting thing known to man.