Chapter 3 - Enmu (Déjà Vu): Dark Dreams

1

Takuro awoke to the sound of his own screams. It was cold enough that he could see his own breath, yet his entire body was drenched in sweat. He sighed in relief when he realized it had all been a bad dream, but at the same time, he was irritated that a mere dream could scare him so badly.

“What the hell was that?”

He grabbed the alarm clock by his bed and angrily threw it to the floor. Tiny electronic parts flew everywhere. It was broken beyond repair, but he didn’t care. The same dream had haunted him all week, waking him each day long before sunrise. He didn’t need the stupid alarm.

Takuro got up out of bed to open the curtains, which let in stray beams of moonlight. He stood in front of the full-length mirror and looked at himself in the faint light coming in from the window. He ran his fingertips softly across his neck. There was nothing indicating his head had been bitten off. His limbs were clear too. Of course, there wouldn’t be any marks since it was only a bad dream, but he had to check anyway. That was just how real and intense it had been.

In the dream, he ran and ran down a long, never-ending hallway. Behind him, a blue monster gave chase. No matter how far or how fast he ran, he couldn’t shake it. Sweat dripped from his brow. His dry throat burned. Every breath was a struggle. He nearly tripped time and time again, but he couldn’t afford to let it slow him down. He knew the monster would catch him if it did.

He cried for help over and over again, but no one extended their hand. His classmates lined the hallway, but they only stared at him. Nothing else.

Exhausted, he finally collapsed. The monster bellowed strangely before it bit off his head—and that’s where he’d always wake up.

Wiping his sweat-soaked cheeks, he brought his face closer to the mirror. His eyelids were puffy and swollen, and purple bags sagged underneath them. He hadn’t slept well in a week.

The clock on the wall said it was four in the morning. He’d only gotten two hours of sleep again. His exhaustion was at its peak, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep. The sandman wouldn’t come, and even if he did, Takuro would just have the same nightmare all over again.

Takuro walked away from the mirror, sat on the couch, and powered on his laptop. In the dim glow from the screen in front of him, he looked like a ghost.

Why am I having these dreams?

Takuro stared listlessly at the startup screen as he thought about it. He had an inkling as to the cause. The blue monster chasing him was inevitably the rumored Jailhouse monster, but he knew it wasn’t anything more than gossip. There was no way anything like that was real.

Takuro’s father had bought the Jailhouse property and was planning on turning it into a new location for his chain of hardware stores. Naturally, he’d been there before, but he’d never said anything about a monster there. In fact, Takuro remembered how he’d laughed and said it was just like any other old building.

Monsters don’t even exist, so why am I so afraid of one in my dreams? Whatever. I’m not gonna waste my time thinking about something so stupid anymore.

Takuro shook his head vigorously as if to purge the thought from his mind.

It’s already started to get to me.

After being woken up the night before, he’d spent the night looking up the Jailhouse monster on the internet. The search results had led him to a strange game about a blue monster that chased a middle school boy around a mansion as he searched for the exit.

Takuro knew the game. One of his classmates had showed it to him before. He didn’t know who’d made it, but it was clearly inspired by the Jailhouse monster. Moreover, all the characters were named after kids from his class. Even Takuro himself was in the game. And there was no way it was a coincidence. Their appearances, personalities, and even speech mannerisms all matched up. It had to have been one of his classmates that made the game, but it seemed pretty clear that it was done with malicious intent. Each character named after someone in class died a horrible, gruesome death.

When he came across it at home, Takuro had given it a try himself, hoping it would hold some key to understanding his nightmares. Unfortunately, however, it only seemed to make them worse. That mouth, gaping from ear to ear; those sharp, pointed fangs; the drool, dripping in long strings; the foul stench of rotting garbage—he could recall it all vividly. His stomach growled like a strange dog as he imagined the bright red fountains of blood and the smell of rusty iron. He suddenly felt sick.

Crap. I’m gonna hurl.

Covering his mouth with both hands, he headed straight for the bathroom. He buried his face in the toilet as he let loose the contents of his stomach. Looking down, he could see the convenience store chicken he’d eaten while playing the game last night floating there, undigested.

Damn it. Why is this happening to me?

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and cursed under his breath. Was throwing up a sign of weakness? The blue monster in his nightmares bore a striking resemblance to Naoki’s dead body, covered in blue liquid...

Is this guilt over Naoki’s death? No way.

The thought briefly crossed his mind, but he blew it off with a snort.

I didn’t do anything wrong.

Sure, Takuro had told him to jump in front of the truck. But that was it. It wasn’t like he’d pushed or threatened him. If telling somebody to kill themselves was enough to make someone guilty, then the whole world would be full of criminals. Naoki had run into the street of his own free will as far as Takuro was concerned. He had nothing to feel bad about.

Of course, he knew Naoki was at his wits’ end. That too was Takuro’s doing, after all. But he didn’t feel guilty about that, either. The weak die, and the strong survive—that was the law of the jungle. It was true for animals and men alike. Eat or be eaten. It was only natural that the weak died off. If you wanted to survive, you just had to become strong. Takuro had learned that from his father.

His father was the president of the hardware store chain “Smile.” He’d constructed over a hundred stores in less than 20 years, and he always boasted about how he’d built up the company by buying out smaller, weaker ones. Not all of his dealings had been completely aboveboard, but the company had him to thank for its success.

“Kindness and consideration are of no use to anyone. People are merely pawns at your disposal.”

Those were the words his father would always repeat when he got drunk. And Takuro, wanting to be like his father, studied and practiced sports twice as hard as everyone else. He was willing to do whatever it took to win. There were plenty of people who hated on him for that, but he just considered that the whining of losers. He had no reason to pay them any mind.

As his successes piled up, Takuro became the most popular kid in class. Hordes of his classmates flocked to him. Everyone praised him. Even the teachers trusted him. When they scolded the bad kids, they would always say things like, “You should learn from Takuro.”

I’m surrounded by allies. There’s absolutely no reason for me to feel uneasy.

Takuro got up, rinsed off his face at the sink, and then went back to his room. Sitting on the sofa, he started typing on his laptop. The hard disk spun with a soft scratching noise like a cat running its claws against a post as he launched the game he’d downloaded the night before.

Who made this thing?

He glared at the monitor as he mulled it over. The first thing that really came to mind was the face of the new kid who’d just moved to town. The game practically oozed hatred for Takuro at every turn. It was like a manifestation of a serious grudge, and he could think of no one other than the new kid who could possibly hate him that much.

That reminds me... There was last night, too.

At about 10:30 the previous evening, Takuro had gotten a call while he was in the middle of playing the game. He looked at his phone, but he didn’t recognize the number on the screen.

Who’s calling at this hour?

Continuing to play the game with his right hand, he picked up the phone with his left. Pressing a button, he curtly answered the call.

“Um... This is Takuro, right?” a faint, feeble voice on the other end asked. “It’s me... Shun.”

Takuro still had no clue who that was.

“Who the hell calls at this hour? Are you crazy?” he yelled.

“Sorry!” the timid voice immediately replied.

Then it clicked for Takuro. It was the new kid on the phone. He could tell because that’s always how he responded when Takuro yelled at him or hit him. That, along with the look of utter despair on his face, never failed to please him.

“H-Hey... I have an important favor to ask of you...” he said in his usual sheepish manner. “Please don’t ever go inside the Jailhouse.”

Takuro was baffled. What was with such a strange call at such a strange time?

“Huh? What’re you talking about?”

“Did I bully you too much? Have you completely lost it?” he almost said, but just barely managed to hold it in. He considered the possibility that the conversation was being recorded. And if that was the case, he couldn’t afford to slip up. He had to act like his normal, star student self.

“Sorry, but I’m kind of busy at the moment.”

The words “Game Over” flashed across his laptop screen. Talking with Shun had distracted him enough that he hadn’t realized the monster had shown up. He tried to restart from the save screen, but it wasn’t working for some reason. The game appeared to be completely frozen as a strange noise played from the speakers.

“Damn it. I was so far, too. It’s your fault I got a game over,” Takuro spat angrily at Shun and hung up the phone.

What the hell?

He forcefully shut down his laptop and got into bed. He remained awake for a while, but the phone didn’t ring again.

...What was that all about?

Shun had never called him before. It was quite out of the ordinary for Shun to make contact with him since he usually tried so hard to avoid him.

Thinking about it now, Takuro started to wonder if it had all been a dream. Maybe it was even just part of his nightmare. Setting his phone beside him, he swiped to his call history. It hadn’t been a dream after all.

He had gotten a call at roughly 10:30 last night. It had only lasted 34 seconds. Takuro could have sworn it had lasted longer than that.

As he stared at his phone, an error sound started buzzing from his laptop. Confused, he looked up at the monitor. The game’s startup screen was showing, slightly obscured by bits of digital noise. He immediately tried moving his cursor, but there was no response. It seemed the whole computer was frozen. The buzzing continued like a ringing in his ears, and the obscuring noise spread across the entire screen. Staring at the erratic black and white pixels was like looking into a sandstorm.

“What the hell?”

He hit random keys, but there was no change in the screen. He then went to press the power button to force a shutdown, but a small blue dot appeared in the center of the screen.

“...Huh?”

The lone dot of color in the middle of the gray sandstorm started to grow. Takuro gulped. His heart was racing. He wanted to cut the power, but his body seemed to be as frozen as the computer. His eyes remained fixated on that blue dot, as if he were hypnotized.

As it grew, the dot became a blob before finally revealing its true form. It was the monster. The blue giant had come for him. As the terrifying sight filled the screen, the laptop suddenly shut off. The error sound finally ceased as silence fell over the room. All Takuro could hear was the sound of his own panicked breathing.

2

Takuro shouted when someone suddenly slapped his shoulder. He spun around to see Mika, her shapely eyebrows raised as she gave him a funny look.

“You idiot! Don’t startle me like that,” he snapped.

Mika said nothing, but nervously pointed over his shoulder. Takuro then heard someone impatiently clear their throat. He turned back around in his seat to see the language arts teacher, Mr. Eto, staring down at him while adjusting his signature round vintage glasses.

“Oh... Sorry.”

He bowed his head and lowered his gaze to the book on his desk. Likely because of his lack of sleep, the text on the page looked like one big blur to him.

“Well, what do we have here? It’s not like you to doze off in class.” Mr. Eto peered at Takuro through his circular glasses. “You don’t look well, either. Are you ill?”

“No... I’m fine.”

Takuro raised his head to find not only the teacher, but his entire class staring at him. He cursed under his breath, making sure no one could hear. Falling asleep in class was a huge mistake. He had to be perfect at all times. The strong ate the weak in this world. He couldn’t afford to show signs of weakness or else he would end up on the menu.

“Then would you mind reading from page 230?”

Takuro began reading as Mr. Eto requested. It was an essay about the life of Japanese folktale author Hirosuke Hamada. He, Joji Tsubota, and Mimei Ogawa were considered the three pillars of modern Japanese folklore. His most famous work was The Red Ogre Who Cried, which even Takuro had read as a child.

He read the passage aloud flawlessly as he scanned the room absentmindedly with his eyes. There were two empty desks in front of his. They were where Shinichi and Kota normally sat, but they still hadn’t come back to school yet.

Speaking of absences... he’s not here either.

Takuro turned his head ever so slightly so that the teacher wouldn’t notice and took a glance toward the back of the room. Specifically, the last seat in the row by the window. Printouts from math class were piling up on the new kid’s desk.

It’s been eight days since he stopped coming. Probably scared of me.

Eight days ago was when he’d stumbled upon the new kid in the hills behind school. The typical bullying ensued, but much to Takuro’s surprise, the new kid put up some resistance for the first time. He would usually just sit there and take whatever Takuro threw at him with a look of utter despair on his face, but this time, he’d pushed Takuro off of him and run away. He was probably worried about retribution now.

And he should be. No one pushes me around. I bet he’s just too scared to come to school.

Takuro doubted that the new kid would squeal to the teachers, but it wouldn’t be an issue even if he did. Takuro was everyone’s favorite student. There was no way the teachers would believe a kid who’d just moved to town over him. There was no way a star student like Takuro could do any wrong in their eyes, especially not something as horrible as bullying. His reputation protected him. Takuro was so confident in it that he had no intention of ever stopping his little “breathers” with the new kid.

Takuro finished reading the requested passage and looked to his teacher. Mr. Eto nodded, satisfied, and then began talking about Hirosuke Hamada’s The Red Ogre Who Cried.

Once upon a time, there was a red ogre who longed to be loved by humans. His friend, the blue ogre, hatched a plan to help.

“I’ll attack the villagers so you can come fight me off and save them. That way, the humans will see that you’re really a kind ogre,” the blue ogre said.

The plan was a success, and the red ogre made friends with the whole village. He lived his days in happiness after that, but he eventually became concerned about his friend, the blue ogre. He hadn’t seen him since the attack. Worried, the red ogre went to visit the blue ogre’s house and found a letter addressed to him.

Red Ogre,

Live happily and in harmony with your human friends. You and I cannot be seen together anymore. If we continue to associate, the humans might begin to suspect you. They may even grow fearful, and that would ruin things. So, I’ve decided to take a trip. It may be a long, long journey, but I will never forget you. Perhaps we will meet again somewhere someday. Farewell. Take care of yourself.

Always your friend,

Blue Ogre

The red ogre read the letter over and over, but the tears didn’t stop. That was the story of The Red Ogre Who Cried.

As he talked about it, Mr. Eto repeatedly used the word “touching” to describe the deep friendship between the red and blue ogres.

Touching? How?

On the surface, Takuro faked understanding of Eto’s lecture. But deep down, it made no sense at all to him.

This is stupid. And boring.

Stifling a yawn, he patiently waited for the lecture to end. He was bored out of his mind. He overheard one of the girls saying she found herself crying at the end of the story.

“Now that’s funny!” he loudly proclaimed with a laugh.

When he saw her actually wiping away tears, however, he was shocked to no end. It was like he lived in a different world from everyone else.

The blue ogre sacrificed his own happiness to grant the red ogre’s wish. His actions were nothing more than foolishness in Takuro’s opinion. He couldn’t relate.

If I were the blue ogre, I’d eat all the stupid villagers for judging the ogres based on appearance and thinking they were scary. Then I’d laugh at the red ogre for wanting to be friends with those idiots.

Friendship. Kindness. Love. The language arts teacher rattled off a list of clichéd words Takuro would have expected to hear out of a sappy daytime soap opera. At first it was just silly, but now it was starting to get irritating.

How long is he going to keep spewing this crap? And why are they all nodding so seriously after every word?

Suddenly, loud ringing filled his ears. A sharp pain shot through the backs of his eyes. The teacher’s words, his classmates’ faces, the stains on the floor—everything disgusted him. Takuro clenched his fist. He tried his hardest to suppress the darkness welling up within him, but he couldn’t for some reason. This had never happened before.

Laughter echoed through the classroom. Eto had told a joke, apparently.

What’s so funny? I’m at my limit.

Fighting the urge to scream with all his might, Takuro shot up out of his seat. The laughter ceased as all eyes focused on him.

“Yes, Takuro?” Eto asked curiously.

“Sorry, I feel sick. I need to go to the nurse’s office,” Takuro answered flatly and left the classroom, making sure not to meet anyone’s gaze.

The class was silent until he left the room, but as soon as he stepped out, the clamor started up again. Were they talking about him? Had he kept up his normal perfect student facade? He walked briskly down the hall, taking deep breaths to try and calm his racing heart.

What is with me? I’ve always been able to control my anger. Is it because I’m tired? No, that’s not the only reason...

Takuro bit his lower lip.

It’s the new kid. Because he’s not coming to school, I don’t have any way to blow off this stress. That’s why I’ve been having that stupid dream every night!

Takuro made his way down the stairs and to the art room that was unoccupied this time of day. Making sure no one was around, he kicked the wall as hard as he could.

At this rate, I’m really going to snap.

Numbness crept up his toes from the blow, which made him angry for some reason. He let out a deep sigh to calm himself.

“I need to drag my toy back to school. And fast,” he said in a vicious whisper.

3

Kicking the wall seemed to cool Takuro off just enough. By the time he made it to the nurse’s office, he was again able to put on his perfect student act without trouble. He told the nurse he hadn’t slept much lately.

“Don’t study too hard, now,” the nurse said.

Takuro had predicted it down to the word. It made him snicker. He knew he didn’t need to tell the truth. People around him, adults included, naturally made up excuses for him. He didn’t have to justify himself to anyone.

The nurse recommended 20 minutes of bed rest. He laid down, and even though he couldn’t sleep, he did feel better afterward. The ringing in his ears and the pain in his eyes were gone. When the bell rang to signal the end of class, Takuro got out of bed, thanked the nurse, and left the clinic. As soon as he got back to the classroom, everyone swarmed him.

“You looked so pale. We were worried. Are you okay?”

“Maybe you should skip practice today. I’ll talk to the seniors for you.”

“What’s up? What happened, man?”

It was the same as always. Yet for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to smile. Not a single friendly response would leave his mouth.

“Look in a mirror, why don’t you? You look horrible. Something nasty’s haunting you.”

“Just go home. Without you around, I might be able to become a starter.”

“Is it Naoki’s curse at work?”

He could hear what they were really thinking to themselves. It was all in his head, of course, but there was never any way to really know what was inside someone’s heart. Take Takuro, for example.

The ringing he thought had subsided now began echoing obnoxiously in his ears again. The piercing pain in his eyes returned, too. It felt like someone was drilling into them.

Stop it!

While faking a smile, he screamed internally. Everything about the smiling people talking to him made him angry. It was all just so irritating. Even responding was a giant pain. All he wanted to do was flop on his desk and rest, but the people surrounding him just kept talking and bugging him.

“Hey, are you really okay?” Mika leaned over and whispered in his ear.

He’d been trying to hide it, but his acting couldn’t fool her—not when they spent so much time together.

“Oh, Takuro! I found that book you wanted to read in the library. I know you’ll love it. Come with me. I’ll show you where it is.”

Takuro was wondering how to respond, but she forcefully pulled on his arm. He couldn’t remember asking her about a book. She’d probably realized something was up and was trying to help him escape. That was just the kind of girl she was.

“Oh, sure.”

If I stay here, I might have another attack.

Takuro said some quick goodbyes to his classmates and then followed after her. He hadn’t told Mika about the nightmares. She would probably just make fun of him and call him a child if he did. But either way, he had no intention of telling her. He didn’t want her to see him as weak.

“Guess what my brother’s friend said?”

As Mika pulled Takuro out of the classroom, he overheard two of his classmates talking down the hall.

“He saw two students sneaking around the Jailhouse the day before yesterday about 8:00 P.M. One was really tall and the other was wearing a New York Yankees cap.”

“Huh? You don’t mean...”

“Yeah. It could have been Shinichi and Kota.”

“Hold on. What’s that mean? Didn’t they just go on another one of their trips?”

“Nah, I’m thinking they snuck into the Jailhouse. Shinichi’s been talking big and saying he’s going to do it to prove the monster isn’t real.”

“This is bad news, right? Maybe they were attacked by the monster...”

Takuro shuddered at the mention of the Jailhouse monster. The image of the terrifying giant that crept into the back of his mind was all too vivid. Its big, blue figure. That green liquid dripping from its wide mouth. The sharp fangs that sank into Takuro’s throat every night.

Stop it!

Takuro nearly shouted, but he was too frozen to even speak. Realizing something was off, Mika gave him a worried look.

“...Takuro?”

Meanwhile, the two boys down the hall continued to talk.

“No way, man. A monster like that ain’t real. Or what, are you saying you actually believe in it?”

“Not really... But then why haven’t they come back yet?”

“Maybe they had an accident inside the Jailhouse. We could go search for them after school.”

Blood rushed to Takuro’s head. His body was moving before he could even think clearly. He heard Mika shriek and saw one of the boys fall to the floor. His right fist stung.

The boy on the ground held the left side of his face as he stared at Takuro in fear. Red liquid seeped between his fingers. His nose must have been bleeding. Adding it all up, Takuro finally registered that he’d punched the guy.

“Wh-What the hell was that for?” the other boy shouted at him. He had the same fear in his eyes.

But who would have expected the most popular guy in their peaceful class to suddenly punch another student out? Takuro looked around and realized everyone was staring at him. They all looked terrified.

Crap.

His fist throbbed with every beat of his heart. He covered it with his other hand, then collected himself and summoned his usual facade. He walked over to the boy he’d punched, who stiffened up like a nervous cat. It reminded him of Naoki and Shun.

“Sorry. I just lost it.” He flashed his typical, sweet smile and extended his left hand. “The school rules forbid us from going onto the Jailhouse grounds. It’s not a playground. Have you forgotten Naoki’s accident? I couldn’t bear it if another tragedy like that befell one of my classmates...”

Takuro thought he might be laying it on a bit thick, but the others were nodding in understanding. They’d bought it.

“I’m just really worried about Shinichi and Kota.”

The boy he’d decked for no reason, however, still seemed unsatisfied. He wiped the blood from his nose and looked up at Takuro defiantly.

“It’s just an abandoned house, right? No one owns it. Who cares if we sneak inside?”

“I never told anyone this, but my family owns that land. We’re planning on building a new store there, so I can’t let you do that.”

Whispering broke out among the students who had gathered at the door to see what was going on. The mysterious owner of the Jailhouse had finally been revealed. Takuro’s father had bought the allegedly haunted mansion a few months ago, but Takuro had kept it a secret. He could always imagine the creeped-out looks he’d get if the other students found out. It would damage the image he’d worked so painstakingly hard to create for himself. He only admitted it now because it seemed like the only way he could think of to get out of this situation. In the heat of the moment, he figured it would be all right if his classmates found out about it while he was playing the good student.

“Oh, you’re opening a new store there, huh? Then isn’t that all the more reason to settle this now?” The boy still must have been angry about the punch because despite his normally casual personality, he seemed to be growing more sour by the minute.

“Settle what?” Takuro asked.

“If people think the place is haunted, no one’s gonna shop at your store. This is your chance to prove them wrong.”

Now he’d done it. There was only one response to that.

“All right, fine. I’ll prove it to you. There’s no such thing as monsters.”

Either way, now that people knew Takuro’s father owned the Jailhouse, he needed to quash any bad rumors about it quickly. Maybe if he checked the place out and saw for himself that there was no monster, the nightmares would stop, too. And so Takuro made up his mind to visit the Jailhouse for himself.