Chapter 28: The Lamp’s Despair

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“Weariness fills my heart, my eyes keep wandering
Alone in this world, I remain
In this spring that withers away
Each year, all I ever feel is cold…”

Soyo was singing “Spring Shadow,” CryChic’s original song. Every lyric had been written by Tomori Takamatsu, while Sakiko Togawa had composed the music.

Some people said the finest art was an expression of the self. That was why the greatest artists were all a little mad, obsessively devoted to their craft. When Tomori wrote the lyrics, her mind had been filled with Sakiko—with her brightness, her smile, the things she had said to Tomori. By the time Tomori came back to herself, the lyrics were already complete.

It could be said that “Spring Shadow,” born in that way, was a love letter: a blank sheet of a girl encountering the first ray of light in her life, yearning for it with joy and longing, unable to let it go.

Everyone had someone like that in their life. Not necessarily someone they loved romantically, but a guide—the person who made their life feel complete simply by being there.

It might be one’s father, one’s teacher, an older girl who pushed open the door when one’s dignity was being trampled into the dirt, or an expressionless boy who sat beside one when one was as miserable as a beaten dog. It might even be that aristocratic fool who declared, “I’m the boss. I’d rather swallow poison and kill myself than let you die before me.”

Sakiko Togawa was that person for Tomori Takamatsu.

Yet for some reason, Tomori did not like “Spring Shadow” at all this time. Soyo was singing, and Tomori too cherished those days, but hearing “Spring Shadow” accompanied only by the bass made her increasingly agitated. An inexplicable dark fury boiled inside her, and she felt as though she were about to burn alive.

In a daze, she seemed to see countless things: how Sakiko had met her, how the band had been formed, what everyone had looked like when they first met, how they had carried their instruments into this rehearsal room together…

The memories flashed past one after another like scenes from a dying person’s life, until at last Sakiko stood before the rehearsal-room door and softly said:

“I’m leaving CryChic.”

Snap.

The pencil in Tomori’s hand broke with a light sound. Its ink-black lead stabbed sharply into her palm, leaving behind a tiny black dot.

Tomori spread her hand and stared blankly at the mark. Suddenly, she felt that she ought to hold Sakiko in her palm, just like that little black dot.

The same feeling she had experienced that day returned. Sakiko’s announcement that she was leaving was like a curse; each time Tomori recalled it, the dark fire in her heart rose another inch.

Her mind filled with thoughts of how she ought to seize Sakiko. With claws? With fangs? Or should she hold a blade to her throat? Bind her with hemp rope, tying her up in beautiful knots?

Tomori’s eyes shone with excitement, almost as if blood were about to spill from them, while a low growl trembled in her throat.

She could almost see Sakiko trembling naked in her arms. Each time she slapped her, Sakiko would sob and apologize. Each time she kicked her, Sakiko would desperately bow her head and swear never to leave again. She would take a needle and stab Sakiko again and again, watching her kneel before her, covered in blood and begging for mercy…

The savage urge to kill had broken free of its seal. Tomori’s imagination had gone beyond violent confinement and become pure, bloody slaughter.

Sakiko—the one Tomori had admired above all others, the sunlight that belonged to her, the god who had led her out of isolation. The more Tomori had once cared for her, the more she wanted to kill her now.

Tokyo was still cold in April. Tomori wore Haneoka Academy’s long-sleeved spring uniform. While she was immersed in the intoxicating desire to kill, her heartbeat had already reached the astonishing rate of three hundred beats per minute.

Yet she did not lose consciousness. Every organ and blood vessel in her body accepted the excessive rhythm. The blood of dragons pulsed with her heart, spreading from the chambers of her heart toward her limbs. Dark-red veins, raised like tiny snakes, covered her pale neck in an instant. White scales pierced through her skin one after another. The body hidden beneath her clothes had become riddled with wounds, even as it rapidly repaired itself.

“Tomori? What’s wrong?”

Soyo stopped singing. Her gaze fell upon Tomori’s reflection in the mirror. Tomori was hugging herself, desperately curling into a ball, her head buried deep between her knees.

“I have to find Little Sakiko…” Tomori rasped.

Every word dragged out with a long tremor, blurred as though something were lodged in her throat.

“It’s no use. She won’t speak to us.”

Soyo lowered her eyes and gently stroked the bass.

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If she could have helped it, Soyo would not have been sitting here alone, playing bass and singing “Spring Shadow.” The taut low notes and her solitary singing made her sound like a Tokyo widow keeping vigil for her husband in the dead of night.

It was not that she had never tried to contact Sakiko. She had even gone all the way to Haneoka Academy and waited by the main gate. But Sakiko had only thrown over her shoulder, “Stop contacting me,” before hurrying away, her distance as palpable as though she had seen some filthy vagrant.

Soyo was certain that something had happened after that day. Yet Sakiko and Mutsumi Wakaba had both maintained a complete silence toward everyone else. Neither was willing to say a word, and Soyo had no way to uncover the truth. All she could do was come to places like this and quietly reminisce.

Perhaps Sakiko’s behavior was only temporary. After all, Sakiko had said that she would be unable to come for a while and hoped the others could find a substitute.

“Then I’ll grab her by the throat and make her talk to us!”

An eerie voice came from behind her, like a dying patient laboring to breathe through a heavy respirator, exhaling in harsh, wheezing bursts.

Soyo turned around in astonishment and instantly forgot how to breathe.

The thing before her could no longer be called Tomori Takamatsu. She still had a human shape, but half her face was covered in uneven, spiny hide and white scales. The other half was dripping with blood, torn muscles visible to the naked eye, with sharp bones sprouting wildly from within.

Tomori’s body was completely asymmetrical. One side was being born anew while the other was dying. She could not keep her balance. When she tried to stand, her foot slipped and she fell at once. Blade-like bones jutting from her shoulder pierced the floor. Like some newly born aberration, she twisted her limbs, struggling to learn how to control the movement of this body.

“Tomori… are you really Tomori? How did this happen?”

Soyo covered her face, scarcely able to believe what she was seeing. If not for the school uniform, she would never have recognized Tomori.

“Little Sakiko… I have to… I have to find Little Sakiko…”

Driven by some powerful obsession, Tomori struggled to drag herself across the floor. She had barely gone anywhere before coughing up a low spray of blood.

The bizarre mutation was forcing her to evolve, but it was also killing her without pause. A long trail of blood marked the floor behind her. It was difficult to imagine that a girl’s body could contain so much blood, or that she could lose so much and still live—as though she were an inexhaustible spring of blood.

Tomori could no longer see anything. Her sight had been destroyed by the ravages of dragon blood. Yet she could still see a vast white snowfield, where a white dragon crouched atop an icy cliff and stared coldly at her. The gentle smile had become one of detached mockery.

“Stop moving! You’ll die if you keep this up!”

Trembling, Soyo fumbled a phone out of her bag. She forced herself to remain calm and dialed for emergency assistance, while rushing forward to hold Tomori down.

But she was too frightened. Several times her fingers pressed the wrong numbers, dialing incorrectly before deleting the call and trying again.

She had never seen anything so terrifying. No scene from any horror film could compare with the mutation taking place before her eyes. It was as if some demon had begun growing out of Tomori’s body.

“Don’t touch me! I’m going to… kill her!”

Tomori suddenly swung her hand.

A streak of silver seemed to flash before Soyo’s eyes. The phone split in two in her palm. She felt a faint pain in her arm, and blood began to seep out, then poured freely like running water.

Tomori slowly rose to her feet. In the span of only a few dozen seconds, her evolution was nearly complete.

All the bloodstains seemed to flow backward through time, crawling against their former paths and sinking back into her body. White scales wrapped around her from head to toe like armor. Her slender arms had become powerful forelegs; her thin legs were now strong hind limbs. No one could have recognized her as Tomori Takamatsu anymore.

“What are you saying? Don’t joke around and scare me, all right? We… we’ll go to the hospital. I’ll take you to the hospital. There’s one nearby!”

Soyo managed to force out a gentle smile, though every muscle in her face was trembling violently.

She could feel the overwhelming aura of death. Tomori’s eyes were those of a beast, shining as brightly as gas lamps and filling the rehearsal room with a bewildering golden radiance.

A single glance was enough to make Soyo feel as though she were suffocating. She realized that her life was entirely in that creature’s hands and did not dare say anything that might provoke her.

Tomori erupted in fury and unleashed an ear-splitting roar at Soyo. The gale overturned the drum kit, every wall lamp shattered, and the heavy stench of blood reverberated through the room.

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“Soyo… what’s happening to me? I’m so scared… Sakiko! You have to die! I cared about you so much. You must offer your flesh and blood to me!”

In the dim light filtering through the window, the expression on Tomori’s face shifted rapidly.

At times she was the withdrawn, introverted Tomori Takamatsu, whose gaze always flinched away from others, too afraid to meet their eyes. The white scales reflected her sorrow, and the golden pupils briefly dimmed as she cast a pleading look toward Soyo.

At other times she was a sovereign with dragon blood surging through her veins, determined to kill Sakiko Togawa for daring to abandon and defy her. She also had to go and pay homage to the White Emperor. That monarch had been waiting for her for thousands of years. Such profound solitude was too terrible to bear. She had to rescue her, embrace her… and perhaps become the emperor herself.

“Save me… die, all of you! I’m not that kind of monster… Let me become a god!”

Two separate consciousnesses tore at one another, struggling for control. Tomori clutched her head with both hands. Her skull felt as though it were splitting apart. Snake-patterned letters and pictographs flickered across her vision, and tears burst from her eyes.

Soyo summoned her courage and slowly approached Tomori. She was the only person here who could help her. She could not simply ignore Tomori’s cries for help.

Tomori truly seemed to be suffering terribly. She could find neither herself nor anyone she could trust. Her appearance was hideous and terrifying, yet the way she cried made her look like a helpless, bewildered child.

When Soyo had come within half an arm’s length, Tomori suddenly turned her head and fixed her gaze upon her.

The turbulent golden pupils had narrowed to a single icy vertical slit. Not the slightest trace of human emotion remained. Sadism, slaughter, violence—different impulses flowed through that cold, indifferent stare.

The struggle between dragon and human genes was over. The berserk dragon blood had won the final victory. The consciousness known as Tomori Takamatsu was imprisoned at the bottom of an unfathomable abyss. The newly born dragon-human Tomori wanted only to drain everything dry and destroy everything in her path, while incomparable confidence and desire roared freely within her.

Soyo’s heart lurched. It was as if she had sunk to the bottom of an icy lake, while the threat of death closed around her from every direction.

She had just turned to run when Tomori seized her arm. The terrifying strength nearly crushed her bones. Tomori lifted her into the air and slammed her hard against the floor. Sharp bone spines tore through her clothes, leaving her pale body covered in dazzling, grotesque streaks of blood. The impact nearly robbed her of consciousness.

There had to be something wrong with this world. How could an ordinary child suddenly become such a terrifying monster?

Soyo no longer had the time to find out why. She knew only that she was going to die. A powerful sensation of weightlessness spread through every cell in her body. Claws seized her leg and hoisted her up. Her chestnut hair spilled backward, and blood from her forehead ran into her mouth, carrying a sharp, salty tang into her mind.

What would happen after she died? Come to think of it, Tomori had said earlier that she wanted to kill Sakiko. After this, Tomori would surely leave and go to Haneoka—or somewhere else—to search for her.

That could not happen!

No one knew how many people would die if this monster appeared on the streets of Tokyo. The police would arrive and use the heaviest weapons at their disposal to shoot her down. Then nothing could ever be undone.

Tomori leaned close to Soyo, sniffing repeatedly around her nose. After becoming a dragon-human, she seemed to have completely lost herself and turned into a beast. Beasts identified friend and foe by scent.

“Tomori… I’m sorry, but this is the only way. Please bear with me for a moment!”

Soyo drew a deep breath, closed her eyes, and focused all her concentration. After a moment, she opened them again.

Her golden pupils blossomed in the gloom with dazzling brilliance. She pushed the supernatural power she was most proud of to its absolute limit.

She had never done anything like this before and had no idea where her limits lay. There was no time left for trial and error. Her entire body hurt terribly, blood oozing from countless wounds, and she knew she could not withstand another heavy blow.

Her domain slowly expanded. It appeared gentle, its boundary shimmering with a faint radiance.

An invisible force suddenly descended and smashed into Tomori’s back. Her body went limp and she crashed to the floor. Her hands convulsed against the ground. Black tears of blood flowed from her eyes, while the floor beside her hands cracked and snapped, spiderweb fractures spreading in every direction.

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