Obsession (Ayano x Budo)

Chapter 41

It was all over. All that remained was red.

Pools of red. Dams circled the corpse's feet, like velvety red curtains drawing over the stage at the end of a play. It was mesmerising, and under her gaze, it started to slowly darken and congeal in a way that was satisfying to watch. I am a psychopath, she thought, and the thought didn't make her feel bad in the slightest.

The seconds drew on. Ayano felt that jubilation slowly ebb from her, leaking out drop-by-drop.

She looked down at her gloved hands, which were covered evenly in a thin layer of blood, as if they'd been dunked into a bucket of it, and saw that the red in which they were drenched had already dried to a crisp brown. Gingerly, she flexed her fingers, and the movement felt stiff. Something about it made made any exhilaration still remaining disappear from her completely.

Why did she feel so empty?

Her eyes stared blankly at the mess in front of her. This hollow feeling... It was exactly how she'd always felt throughout her life before meeting Taro. She'd been able to repress it with snippets of pink-tinted joy through stalking Taro, killing Osana and dreaming about her happy future with her senpai. But now those options weren't even available to her anymore.

And it's all her fault.

Ayano stared down at the body, or rather, the mushy red pile which had been formally Info-chan, and the only thing she felt was the overwhelming sense of "Now what?". Inside, she felt like a ghost wandering across limbo. What was she supposed to do now? Now that the anger and excitement had drained, all that remained inside of her was the emptiness - the intense feeling of lacking, which was combined with the insatiable craving to fill that lacking space with something powerful.

In a way, it was a crueller fate to be empty, than to be filled with hatred.

And then it hit Ayano. Perhaps this was what the corpse before her had meant when it was still alive, claiming "I will get my revenge". And yet as soon as she'd considered it, Ayano disposed of the idea firmly. It was illogical. How could Info-chan have ever understood the complexities of her medical condition, when doctors, and even Ayano herself, couldn't?

Ayano glared at the mess before her, then gave the semi-recognisable form within it an annoyed kick. To hell with her. Let's bury this bitch, and then I can decide what to do next... And get some sleep.

"Budo," she called wearily.

"Yes?"

Budo emerged from seemingly nowhere, materialising at her side with the light-footed silence that could only come after years of training. Ayano felt an impulse and gave in to it - she gave him a small smile. Budo seemed surprised, but after a second of stillness, returned it genially. Ayano wasn't sure what caused her to smile - perhaps it was because she was thankful for his assistance, or because their plan had succeeded, or then also because of a more obscure reason.   For just a second, she'd felt randomly happy.

Focus. You've got a more important task that requires your attention.

Right. Ayano's smiled dropped as she became serious. "Budo, I should have checked with you in advance, but do you have a plan as to how to dispose of the body?"

At the question, Budo's face also lost its cheerful glow. "Yes," but you don't have to worry about that." Budo said this with reassuring insistence. "I'll do it all so you have minimal chance of any association with the crime."

He's offering to clean up this mess by himself?

Alone, this would probably take hours to do a proper job. Would he have the energy to do it? 

Actually, now that Ayano looked, Budo didn't look that great. His usual faintly-glowing tan had become a ghostly pale and his eyes seemed to be staying open on an artificial supply of energy which looked as if it would give out the second she looked away. He'd looked tired before, but, perhaps because he'd been waiting an hour for Ayano to finish her business with Info-chan, he looked even worse.

"I think we should take care of the body together, before we get too tired," Ayano suggested, for for his sake.

"Ah, you're tired?" Budo echoed with abrupt attentiveness, his somewhat sleepy eyes suddenly alert and determined, as if Ayano's tiredness were the most critical dihlemma in the world.

"Well, yes, to answer your question, but you're tired too. You're just suppressing it," she explained, but it seemed like he didn't hear her.

"I'll do cleanup later. Come." Budo took her hand in his - and almost immediately she jerked upright - before he started leading her away from the basement.

She couldn't help but compare: In her memory, when Taro had touched her to help her up long ago, his hand had been soft and incredibly light, almost mind-blowingly silky smooth, like it wasn't even there, but Budo's... His was bigger, and it enclosed her whole hand like a trap. Yet despite the strength he could possess, she could tell he was being very careful and gentle. Even through the gloves that she wore, there was a soft warmth that radiated to her fingertips. 

"Careful up the stairs." Budo's voice sounded close. And then as quickly as it had come, his hand disappeared from hers so that she could climb ahead of him.

"But what about the body? And the weapons?" Ayano questioned insistently as they ascended. She should have just stayed behind, so why was she going along with this?

On the first floor, Ayano waited for Budo, and when he finally met her, she continued, "I'm going the spread blood around the house if we start moving around."

"I'll take off your shoes for you, since your hands are a bit messy."

Without waiting for Ayano's reply, Budo went down to his knees and started untying her shoelaces. It was done so quickly that Ayano just sighed and allowed him to slip each shoe off her foot. It was surprisingly nice to be barefoot after so long, even if the wooden boards were cool to the touch.

"You can wash your arms and face in the bathroom. Here." Setting aside the pair of shoes next to the hatch, Budo straightened and began leading the way to the bathroom with a determined stride.

With a snap, Budo turned on the lights and stepped aside to let Ayano walk into the bright glare of the bathroom. As she blinked past the somewhat overbearing whiteness, Ayano glanced to the side, then stopped in her tracks. The mirror.

Her arms, yes, were quite filthy. But what was worse was her face, which was splattered with dark red spots, and covered with a huge splash that spanned the length of her face from brow to chin, dribbling down in large streaks down her throat. It was as if a bloody hand had been smeared across it with all its juices. It was an unnerving sight.

Had she been so intent in her duty that she hadn't noticed such a big smack of blood hitting her square in the face? Surely she hadn't been this messy? Ayano turned to Budo, almost wanting to confirm with him, but decided to press her lips firmly shut. She had to remind herself that he was a normal boy, and not just one she should expect to talk about the messiness of murder offhandedly. No wonder he'd been in such a rush to clean her. It was amazing enough that he hadn't run away from her after all she'd done.

What must he think of her?