Bound By Shadows

Chapter 2: Whispered silence (TW: Death)

Kazuyaki sat in the cold confines of his holding cell, his fingers throbbing from the earlier encounter. The pain numbed slightly by the workers tending his injuries. Each one of them wore a plain white mask with black oval eyes that covered the entirety of their face, devoid of any expression. Unlike the S60's signature broken-mouthed mask, these were seamless, making the workers look like lifeless dolls. Their suits were all black—shirts, vests, pants, gloves, shoes—all of it dark and pristine. The only thing differentiating them was their hair; some had short hair, others long, but they worked in silence, only humming softly as they wrapped bandages around his broken fingers.

It was unsettling. They never spoke, never even acknowledged him beyond their task. Kazuyaki tried to ignore the eerie feeling crawling up his spine as he shifted uncomfortably on the oversized dog bed he'd been thrown onto earlier. It was large enough for someone twice his size, yet he couldn't bring himself to comfort in it. He laid down, trying to force his eyes shut, willing to sleep to overtake him despite the constant ache in his body.

Just as his mind began to drift, a piercing scream echoed from down the hall. His eyes snapped open, heart pounding in his chest. He sat up quickly, looking toward the direction of the sound. The scream was cut short, leaving an eerie silence in his wake.

From the small gaps between the bars of his cage, Kazuyaki caught sight of something—or someone—crawling past the gates of his cell. Their movement was desperate, hands dragging against the cold ground, body contorted in agony. His breath caught in his throat, the cold sweat beading on his skin.

And then, from behind the person who was holding onto life by a strand, Red appeared.

He was walking slowly, without his mask this time, his red eyes gleaming with a mixture of delight and something far more sinister. His mullet fell in loose, casual waves, black strands framing his sharp features as his pale fingers twirled a bloody slimy tongue in his left hand. The sight of it sent a shiver down Yagasaki's spine. Red's right hand held a shot gun, its barrel still warm from use.

Red chuckled sinisterly, the sound barely above a whisper.

"You know," he mused, flickering the severed tongue nonchalantly, "I really hate when people think they can speak with free will."

Before Kazuyaki could process what was happening, Red raised the gun to the head of the weak marketer and fired a single shot. The Crawling figure fell limp, blood pooling rapidly around the body. Kazuyaki's stomach twisted at the gruesome sight, his hands shaking as he gripped the bars of his cage.

Red, still smiling, called over one of the silent workers with a lazy wave.

"Clean this up, will you?" His tone was cheerful, almost too casual for what had just unfolded.

As the worker approached to clean the mess, Red's eyes caught Kazuyaki's through the bars. Kazuyaki froze, his heart racing. Fear paralyzed him, rooting him to the spot. He couldn't tear his eyes away as Red slowly walked over, his smile growing wider with each step.

"Ah," Red cooed, slipping the bloody tongue into his pocket like it was some trivial item. "There's no need for you to be so scared, Yagasaki. The day I lay a finger on you in such a manner is the day you die." His voice was gentle now, sweet even. But Kazuyaki couldn't shake off the memory of blood poking on the floor just feet away from him.

Red knelt in front of the cage, his fingers curing around the bars like snakes.

"You know," he began, his eyes softening as if what just transpired was completely normal, "you look so tired."

Kazuyaki's heart pounded as Red's gloved hands reached through the bars, gently stroking his hair. His fingers were surprisingly tender, and despite every fiber of Kazuyaki's body screaming at him to stay on guard, the exhaustion from the events of the day washed over him.