Chapter Text
The sweat sticks to my skin like a second layer I can’t peel off. My hair clings to my forehead, damp, cold in the thin morning light leaking through the paper screens. My lungs burn before I’ve even moved. The futon beneath me folds unnaturally beneath my weight. Every inch of the room seems stretched, warped, like I’ve slipped into some cruel memory I can’t remember.
Where the hell am I? This… this isn’t real. I’m awake. I’m awake. I fell asleep in Kyojuro’s arms at the Butterfly Mansion. That’s right. That’s how I got here. I—
My hand finds Kyojuro first. His body is half-slumped in the chair, half-collapsed against the bed’s edge. He doesn’t move, but the pulse under my fingers confirms he’s breathing. A small relief washes over me, but it doesn’t touch the hollowness in my chest.
He’s alive. He’s alive. Don’t let it slip. Just breathe. Don’t… don’t collapse again.
The room tilts subtly as I push myself upright. My head swims, every movement a negotiation with gravity that refuses to cooperate. The edges of the walls ripple as if the mansion itself is breathing, inhaling and exhaling through the paper screens.
Focus. Just get up. Just stand.
My knees protest, buckling under me. The futon creaks, sticking to my damp skin. I touch the floor for balance, feeling the cold seeping through my fingers. My chest rises unevenly, lungs clawing for air. I take a shallow breath, taste iron, fear, sweat.
The mumbling starts almost immediately. Low at first, almost imperceptible beneath the ringing in my ears, like wind over broken glass. Words float through the air of the Butterfly Mansion but never take form. They press against my skull, tugging, teasing, whispering in a language I almost recognize but never quite do.
Stop. Stop. Stop it. I’m awake. I’m awake. I’m awake. The floor isn’t moving. I’m moving. Focus.
I stumble toward the door. The Butterfly Mansion stretches before me, elongated, unnatural. Light bends along the walls, flickers where it shouldn’t, sliding across the tatami in thin, cruel lines. Shadows cling to corners like thickened smoke. Every step echoes twice—once in the floorboards, once in my skull.
Don’t let it swallow me. Don’t look away. Just follow. Just stand.
The doorknob is slick, cold. My fingers tremble as I grip it. The mansion itself seems to pulse with each heartbeat. The hallway ahead tilts, bends, stretches toward some horizon my mind refuses to let me see clearly. I push the door open, step through. The world tilts violently, the floor yawning beneath me.
This can’t be real. It’s just the Butterfly Mansion. It’s just Kyojuro’s home. It’s—
The mumbling grows, layering itself into a thick fog. The words are everywhere and nowhere, scraping against comprehension like knives. My knees give, and I stagger, clinging to the frame of the doorway. My breath rattles in my chest.
Keep moving. Keep standing. Don’t fall. Don’t let it see. Don’t let it take me.
The air feels thick, heavier than it should. Every step I take pitches me forward, tilting the world. The hallway seems to stretch, walls bending toward me, then away, then together. Light twists like liquid around the edges. I stumble, clutching the wall for balance. My lungs claw, chest burning.
It’s fine. Just the hallway. Just the mansion. Just me. Just… breathe.
The mumbling flares, louder now, an indistinct roar in my ears. It feels like it’s under my skin, in the boards, climbing into my bones. My stomach twists, knees buckle. I press my palms to the floor, tasting dust and sweat and fear.
Get up. Get up. Stand. Follow. Don’t collapse. Don’t let it see. Don’t let it touch me.
Kyojuro’s body behind me is a dull weight in my peripheral vision, a reminder of warmth and safety, but I can’t stop. Not yet. Not while the edges of the mansion’s hallway ripple, folding into themselves like paper cranes pressed under a thumb.
Step. One step. Just one step. One. Another. One. Don’t think. Don’t think. Don’t collapse.
My hands slide along the wall. The paper is cool, dry, real. Or is it? The floorboard beneath my toes seems to pulse, a heartbeat not mine but synchronized with mine. The mumbling twists into something like rhythm, insistent, pressing. My head spins.
What the hell is this? Is it the mansion? Am I—am I awake? Breathe. Just breathe. Don’t let it take me. Keep moving.
The door at the end of the hallway appears warped, too tall, too narrow, light spilling unevenly across it. I reach for the knob again, wet hands slipping. The air tastes of iron and shadow. I push. The hinges squeal. My vision sways.
Just open it. Just go. Don’t look back. Don’t let it see you hesitate.
The door swings, revealing more of the Butterfly Mansion bending impossibly away, stretching beyond comprehension. The mumbling merges with my heartbeat, every pulse a hammer against my skull. My feet move, guided by fear, instinct, and some unseen thread of reason I cling to like a lifeline.
I stumble, almost fall, grip the wall. The floor pitches, then rights itself. The air smells of cold wood and something else—something faintly metallic. My body is trembling, sweat slick, lungs clawing.
Almost there. Almost through. Don’t stop. Don’t think. Just—go.
Step. Another. Another. The hallway stretches, tilts, swallows light. Shadows twist like serpents, curling around the edges of my vision. I press on, hands against the wall, mind straining to hold itself together.
The end of the hallway opens to… something. Something I can’t yet name. But the pull is there, insistent, terrifying. I’m drawn forward, trembling, soaked in sweat, chest burning.
It’s coming. It’s waiting. Keep going. Don’t stop. Don’t fall. Don’t collapse.
My hand rests on the next door. Cold, slick, immovable. I push, hearing the faintest creak of hinges beneath my weight. Step forward. The world tilts violently, a ribbon of fear and dizziness and impossible angles.
Almost there. Just a little further. Don’t look away. Don’t let it see. Don’t let it touch me.
And I step through.
The hallway stretches before me, impossibly long now, twisting, bending. The walls are warped, warped like wet clay, light slithering along their edges. My feet move without thinking, following a pull I can’t name. The mumbling grows louder, though the words remain indecipherable. A low, rhythmic undertone presses against my skull, vibrating in my bones.
Keep moving. Don’t look. Don’t stop. Don’t let it see me. It’s just the Butterfly Mansion. Just follow. Breathe. Just follow.
And then, impossibly, I see it. A shadow at the far end, moving with purpose. Taller than the hallway ceiling, impossibly thin. The hair sharp, pointy, like shards of black glass. Its body bends unnaturally, crooked, the joints too long, too sharp. I can see—no, I think I can see—the faint outline of bones beneath the blackness, as if skin is stretched too thin over a skeletal frame.
What the hell… What the hell is that? It’s… not real. It can’t be. I’m awake. I’m awake. Breathe. Don’t look away.
It moves toward the far end, slow, deliberate. Fingers bend backwards at angles that make my stomach twist. It glides, silent. Its eye slits, white against the black, seem to drip shadows. And yet… there’s a sadness there. An emptiness I almost understand.
Why do I feel… comfort? I shouldn’t feel comfort. It’s not real. It’s not real. But… it’s guiding me. Keep following.
Every step I take is a negotiation with gravity. The hallway stretches with me, elongating as though it doesn’t want me to catch up. The mumbling presses closer, layering, becoming more insistent, more agitated. I stumble. My knees hit the floor. Hands scrape the tatami.
The floor… it’s eating me. It’s… swallowing me. Don’t fall. Don’t let it take me. Move. Move. Move.
The creature stops for a moment, bending impossibly, a silent gesture backward. Its fingers twitch. I understand—follow. I rise shakily, trembling from sweat and fear. The mumbling escalates, a tide of incomprehensible noise. My head spins, walls bending, ceiling collapsing.
Step. One step. Another. One. Don’t think. Don’t think. Don’t let it see. Don’t let it take me.
The hallway turns, bends in ways that shouldn’t exist. Every corner twists, a living thing pressing against my chest. The creature waits patiently, tilting its head as if coaxing me, daring me to falter. I stumble around a bend. The mumbling is sharp now, teeth gnashing in my ears. Pain. Pressure. A tide pressing into my skull.
It’s in my head. It’s inside. I can’t breathe. I’m being crushed. Don’t fall. Don’t collapse. Keep going. Just follow. Just follow.
My legs give. I fall forward, hands scraping the warped floor. The shadows curl and twist around me, shapes of bodies, faces that never existed. I try to push myself up. My chest burns. Sweat drips from my hair into my eyes. The mumbling is everywhere now, pounding, a hurricane inside my skull.
Get up. You can’t… can’t stay down. Move. Move. Don’t let it see you panic. Just follow. Keep moving. Follow. Follow.
The creature tilts again, waiting. Its slits are now slightly wider, glinting faintly, almost tearful. The sadness radiates, pressing against me, a tangible weight I almost crave. My hand brushes the wall, grounding myself. I rise slowly, knees wobbling.
It’s okay. Just… just follow. Don’t stop. Don’t look away. It’s just the Butterfly Mansion. It’s just a hallucination. Breathe. Keep moving. Keep moving. Don’t let it see you.
I take a tentative step forward. Another. The hallway stretches, angles bending unnaturally. The walls seem to breathe, moving with me. I stumble again, hand scrabbling at the floor. Pain blossoms in my chest, lungs clawing.
I’m not dead. I’m awake. I’m… I’m following it. It’s… safe. Maybe safe. Keep moving. Don’t fall. Don’t collapse. Just follow.
The creature moves again, gliding silently. Fingers bending backward. Head tilted like it’s studying me. I follow. The mumbling is relentless now, a tide of white noise pressing, screaming, cutting through thought. I clutch the walls, dragging myself forward.
It’s not real. It’s not real. Breathe. Just breathe. Step. Step. Step. Keep following. Don’t think. Don’t stop. Don’t let it see you falter. Don’t fall.
I stumble around another corner. The hallway seems to fold in on itself. Shadows stretch and twist into impossible angles. The air smells metallic. My heart races. Every nerve screams.
Almost there. Almost there. Don’t collapse. Don’t fall. Keep moving. Just follow.
I see the end of the hallway. A door, warped, pulsing, light slipping around the edges. The creature glides toward it. I follow. The mumbling crescendos, unbearable now, bone-deep, stretching my mind. I fall to my knees, pressing my forehead to the floor.
It’s crushing me. It’s everywhere. I can’t… can’t get up. Don’t fall. Don’t let it take me. Just… just follow. Get up. Get up. Stand. Stand. Follow.
My hands press to the warped floor. Knees tremble. Slowly, trembling, I rise. The creature tilts its head, fingers bending backward in silent patience. My vision swims. The hallway stretches. The mumbling twists, agitated.
Step. Another. Step. Don’t stop. Don’t think. Don’t let it see you. Just follow.
And still, it waits. Patient. Silent. Sad. I can feel the pull of its presence, like gravity, like home. I step forward again, hands dragging along the wall. The air is thick, taste metallic, shadowed.
Almost there. Almost there. Don’t look away. Don’t falter. Don’t fall. Just follow. Don’t stop. Keep moving.
The door ahead looms, impossibly tall. The creature glides toward it. Fingers bend backward, urging me. I rise fully, trembling, sweat dripping into my eyes. Step forward. Step. Another. Step.
Just open it. Step through. Follow. Don’t stop. Don’t look away. Don’t let it see you. Don’t falter. Don’t collapse.
I force my fingers around the edge of the door, cold and rough under my sweat-slick skin. The mumbling is everywhere, sharp, gnawing, weaving through my skull like some living thing, twisting my vision. My heart hammers so fast it feels like it could shatter my ribs.
Step. Just… grab it. Move. Don’t think. Don’t stop. Don’t let the noise drown me.
I pull. The door resists at first, then creaks open, groaning like it knows the weight of my body and mind. The yelling erupts behind my eyes, distorted, incomprehensible, shrieking, yet as soon as the door cracks fully open, it halts. Abruptly. The sound vanishes. Silence.
Nothing. The world… stopped. Nothing. Just… the air. Step. Step forward. Don’t fall. Don’t stop. Just… follow.
The figure moves ahead, deliberate, silent, impossibly thin, shadows clinging to its edges. My legs shake, weak and trembling, but I follow, drawn by something I cannot name. The air feels heavier, pressing against my lungs, cold and sharp.
It’s there. It’s moving. Step. Step. Step. Keep following. Don’t think. Don’t stop. Don’t—
A tug at my sleeve. Sharp, sudden. I flinch, heart skipping. I look back. Shinobu. Small, tense, her lips moving in rapid whispering I can’t comprehend. My ears strain, but no sound reaches me. The world is muted around her. Only the pull, the insistence, the frantic energy, and I feel torn.
Step. Don’t stop. Don’t look back. Ignore. Ignore. Step. Step. Step. Keep following.
I turn again. The figure. It’s changed. The impossible black has softened. Hints of peach hair, faint color on its skin, a scar along the cheek catching the moonlight. The expression… familiar, though memory fails me. Tears pour from the slits where eyes had been, streaking down like silent waterfalls. My chest tightens.
No. No. What is this? I… I know that face. I don’t know. Don’t look. Don’t stop. Step. Step. Step. Don’t… fall.
I inch forward, mind screaming, body trembling violently. The garden stretches before me, oddly still, impossibly quiet. Shadows lean in, twisting along the hedges, the moonlight slicing sharp lines across the path. The creature tilts its head, tears glimmering, beckoning, patient.
Step. Keep moving. Don’t… falter. Don’t collapse. Don’t think. Don’t… breathe too fast. Step. Step. Step. Follow.
The tears on its face catch some ghost of familiarity, the faintest warmth. My knees wobble, trembling under the weight of my own limbs. My hands dig into the earth, claws searching for purchase as I force one step, then another.
It’s crying. I… I feel it. I shouldn’t. Don’t let it… don’t… collapse. Step. Step. Step. Keep following. Don’t stop.
The figure leans forward slightly, head dipping, fingers curling back in unnatural angles. The faint peach hair glimmers under the dim moonlight, the scar catching the shadows just so. My chest tightens painfully.
I… I know it. I… someone… it… no. Don’t think. Don’t look. Step. Step. Step. Keep following. Don’t stop. Don’t… falter.
My knees give under me. My hands dig deep into the ground. My arms wrap around myself for balance, fingers clutching earth that feels unreal beneath my palms. The figure tilts its head, tears streaming silently, impossibly, and I feel… drawn. Drawn into something I cannot name.
No. No. Don’t… don’t fall. Don’t… move. Don’t stop. Step. Step. Step. Follow. Keep moving. Follow. Don’t look away. Don’t stop.
Suddenly, the figure’s head pops. Like a balloon. Silent. Brief. Horrible. The humanlike form flickers, disappearing into nothingness. I collapse further, chest pressing to the earth, trembling violently.
No. No. No. It… it’s gone. I… I can’t move. Can’t… breathe. Don’t… stop. Don’t… open eyes. Don’t… look. Keep… curl. Keep… curl.
The garden tilts slightly. Shadows fold inward. Moonlight bends. Shinobu tugs at my sleeve, frantic. Whispering. The world is silent except for the pressure in my chest and the rapid beat of my own heart. I do not move.
Ignore. Ignore. Curl. Don’t… look. Don’t… move. Don’t… falter. Just… safe. Just… curl. Don’t open eyes. Don’t… breathe too fast. Curl. Curl. Curl. Safe.
My body trembles, rocking slightly. Limbs drawn inward, hands clutching knees. My forehead pressed to the cool earth, the edges of sleep creeping. The pressure in my chest begins to dull. The shadows bend closer, protective. The moonlight softens.
Safe. Safe. Safe. Don’t… move. Don’t… falter. Don’t… open eyes. Curl. Curl. Curl. Safe. Sleep. Sleep. Safe. Safe. Safe.
Shinobu’s tugs grow desperate, hands brushing against my haori, but I do not rise. My body trembles violently, small shakes that travel from the tips of my fingers down to my toes. I curl tighter, knees to chest, rocking slightly, slow, careful.
Safe. Safe. Safe. Don’t move. Don’t open eyes. Don’t… falter. Don’t… breathe too fast. Safe. Curl. Curl. Curl. Sleep.
The garden stretches endlessly around me, shadows folding like fabric. Moonlight brushes the edges of my body, soft, indifferent, brushing away the tension. My chest loosens. My limbs relax fractionally. The warmth of the night presses against me, hollow yet comforting.
Safe. Safe. Safe. Don’t… move. Don’t… think. Don’t… look. Sleep. Sleep. Safe. Safe. Safe. Curl. Curl. Curl.
The edges of consciousness drift, bending, tilting. My eyelids grow heavy. My breathing evens. My body rocks slightly, trembles slowly, and then finally, at last, I surrender. Curling inward, trembling, pressed to the earth, I drift into fragile, unsteady sleep.
Safe. Safe. Safe. Sleep. Safe. Safe. Safe. Safe. Safe. Safe.