Onryō

2 ~ 剃刀の刃

I awoke with the most terrible pain in my throat. I couldn't swallow, nor could I breathe through my mouth. Panic immediately engulfed me. Jolting up, I clawed at my neck. When I attempted to cry out in pain, no noise came out. Instead, my throat felt as if it was being clawed apart my a rabid cat.

Tears welled up in my eyes, and through my tear filled vision I spotted a figure in the dark room. I would have shrieked if only my throat would allow it. Instead, I scrambled out of my bed, grasping my neck as I stumbled to the bathroom adjacent to my room.

Flicking on the fluorescent light, my bare feet stung against the icy, tile floor as I feel into the marble counter. I looked into the mirror to see a face twisted in agony. Opening my mouth wide, I tried to peer into my throat using the reflective surface. It was useless, but I knew something was wrong. Something was definitely in my throat.

So, tipping my head back, I inserted thumb and index finger down my throat. My fingers were able to grasp onto something thin as paper but hard as metal. As soon as I attempted to extract the object from my throat, my flesh was ripped apart.

Blood swelled up into my mouth as I tediously extracted the object. The metallic flavored liquid was choking me, bubbling out of my mouth and down my neck.

'I'm going to die!' was all my mind could scream. Over and over my mind reinforced the idea I was heading towards my own demise.

Then, with one fast yank, the object was gone.

There was a metallic clank when I threw it towards the sink. My throat was ripped to shreds, the pain pulsating through my whole upper body. My eyes were clamped shut, body shaking like a leaf as I caught up bits up flesh in the sink.

Eventually my eyes slightly opened. Black pools covered the marble counter, the white of the sink was stained crimson. Among all the red lay a razor blade. My mind immediately began to search for logical explanations.

Logic was soon overtaken by pure, unadulterated fear once I looked back into the mirror before me.

Mitsu peeked over my shoulder, dark circles under her empty, dark eyes. She rose one pale hand, finger clamped shut, The sleeve of her white kimono covered her wrists, though it was stained a deep, dark red. Fresh streams of blood trickled down her clamped hand.

She maintained the same empty stare as she opened her hand, revealing another razor. I was completely frozen, forced to watch the situation unfold before me. She opened her hand, moving the blade between her fingers, finally coming to grasp to grasp it between her thumb and index finger. Cold stainless steel was pressed to my neck.

I watched in terror as she drew the blade across my soft skin. At first the blood came in small, red beads. Gradually, the blood came in a waterfall, flowing down in a dark wave, staining the white shirt I was wearing furthermore.

Mitsu placed a gentle kiss on my cheek as everything went black.

Then, my eye fluttered open. I was laying on a tatami futon, curled in a ball and clutching the blankets. Immediately, my hands flew to my throat. To my relief, my throat was not slit. Though it was raw when I swallowed.

I slowly sat up, freezing even though sweat dripped down my face, soaking my hair, This wasn't my room. I looked around, eyes scanning the white walls. This wasn't my house.

Slowly, the memories returned to me. Towards the end of the funeral service, Umiko arrived. No, I mean Tsunami. Apparently she decided to change her name in the states, something about it suiting her as a tattoo artist.

So, Tsunami showed up in all black, corset, a lace Victorian era dress and all. I'm pretty sure if Mitsu was alive, should would of saluted her.

The old friend Mitsu and I shared gave Mitsu a banquet of black roses, hugged Ichika-san, then came over to comfort me. Everything else was a blur. I know I went back to Tsunami's apartment over in Kyoto. I didn't want to be alone.