Obsession (Ayano x Budo)

Chapter 50 - END

Budo was happy.

He was really happy.

It was after school. The date had gone well, as expected, but even so, he still was proud of himself. He always knew he and Ayano were compatible - no interaction between them could ever go wrong.

And now they had parted ways, on a mission to their respected homes, or probably so Ayano had thought.

He hummed a little tune to himself. His headphones were on, keeping his ears warm, and a gentle song was playing from his phone. It felt like it had been so long since he'd been able to just let himself relax and just enjoy daily life a bit more. Really, it had just been over a week.

As he idly placed another arm into the big plastic bag, Budo, sensing his increasing exhaustion, paused his work to release a long, tired yawn. He lost his focus, and so did his fingers their grip, so he was surprised when what he was holding hit the floor with a dirty thump.

He'd have to wipe down that stain after he finished.

He picked the appendage up again and carelessly tossed it in the bag, not too bothered. He was still sleepy after all, and he was looking forward to a good, long sleep tonight, along with some wonderful dreams, as soon as he'd finished the last phase here. Maybe he'd even be able to study a little more. He'd never excelled at his school work - rather, he'd never been motivated to do so.

Martial Arts had been his priority, but recently his priorities had shifted. He was sure Ayano would be proud of him if he did well in school. But he also needed time to spend with her too. So, he was going to disband the martial arts club.

The decision had been easy - No, it hadn't even been a decision. It was a realisation. The reason being simple - Ayano was most important.

There. Just one left, then I'm done.

Budo took one last more to stare at it, visually absorbing the spectacle before him in morbid fascination.

Her corpse was only a few days old by now, so, besides the black-brown, flaky quality of the blood around her throat, he noted with interest that there was a strange, bloody foam around her mouth. Was it just him, or did her body look more bloated than it had a few days ago?

The process of decomposition greatly interested Budo, something which he'd only realised recently. And he'd had the opportunity to witness it first-hand, for which he was grateful.

Stop lazing about. You've got to get home.

But he found it difficult to look away. In particular, he was drawn to her eyes. What had been in them? They'd been deep, dark brown, filled with defiance and a bright, burning ambition to live. It was what he'd remembered seeing, the very moment when he'd gotten the blade past her neck, but it was completely different now. Now, all that was left was an unfamiliar, blue-white haze.

Wide-open, her pupils looked back at him. It was surprisingly unnerving. They reminded him of the white eyes of fish that lay dead in heaped piles of heads in supermarkets, besides them their pink innards and fillets exposed in neat, delicious, grotesque rows, spread for the world to appreciate. And all around, there are always flies making the air electric, alive with disgusting noises, wanting to taste and touch everything vulnerable.

You didn't do anything wrong.

Yes, it already over, so what was the point in even thinking about it?

If a fishmonger can so easily kill a fish, why shouldn't I a simple girl?

Before he'd realised it, Budo's arm had extended forward and, slowly, he shut the eyes of the girl. He pulled back and looked again. No, she was just sleeping. And like that, it didn't matter at all anymore. He got back to work.

Finally, Hanako Yamada was finished too, surrounded with, and surrounding, her parents within the secretive shadows of bag. Budo knotted the ends of the bags and took them in both hands. These were strong, multi-lined industrial bags. Nothing was going to leak, or spill. The weapon and cleaning rag were in there too, and would be incinerated along with the bodies tonight. By tomorrow morning, his mental checklist would be completed, and he could rip apart its fibres with satisfaction and bury it away into the depths of his mind, break the pen that wrote it. And he'd never think about it again.

Everything was clean. His prints were gone. Nothing smelled.

Outside, it was a cool, monochromatic night, offset by the glowing rows of yellow street lights. As far as he could see, there were no silhouettes, no hint of watchful eyes. Budo shut the back door and locked it, just as it had been before he'd first arrived. He pocketed the key - He would toss it into some river later. For anyone who went inside, whether the concerned neighbour or police officer, it would seem as if the Yamada family had simply ceased to exist. There would be no trace to follow.

Budo turned and left, not even a glance spared over the shoulder.

Even so, it felt like the house was watching him as he walked away. For not the first time, he felt an ominous sensation, like something was creeping up on him, crawling like seaweed wrapping itself around the ankles of an unknowing child caught in the alluring play of the ocean. The emptiness of that house was almost tangible, almost as if it were playing its ghostly fingers along, down, his spine in a menacingly gentle way.

Budo shook it off. Nobody lived there anymore.

He had to thank Info-chan. She'd come to him in his time of need, had kindly given him the details of where and with whom Taro had lived. She'd helped him, in exchange for a few favours of her own. Her only mistake had been in believing she was secure enough.

One day, while standing and waiting on the grass beneath a certain window of the school, Budo had looked up, at the very moment that he'd sent a message to Info-chan. At that moment, the window had opened, and he'd seen a hand push out the knife he'd requested. It had quickly fallen to the ground, a few paces before his feet. It was only a few seconds of vulnerability, but, if carefully timed, that would be more than enough.

And it had been.

He would have felt guilty about Ayano killing her if he wasn't slightly jealous. Even now, he couldn't help but imagine it. Ayano giving him her full attention, touching him with her perfect hands, as aggressively as she'd done to Info-chan. Looking at him with the most intense, destructive kind of passion in those stormy grey eyes...

...The thought made him feel soft and fluttery inside. A slight, dreaming smile crept up on his lips as he walked home, his mind further wandering.

And then, just before he would lose consciousness, he imagined how she would wrap her arms possessively around his neck and her legs tightly around his hips, like a python in its fatal embrace. She would whisper her calm angel-voice in his ear, "I love you, Budo." Those would be the last words he'd ever hear.

And then, one last time, she would place her lips onto his and kiss him deeply, all the way until his life went fuzzy.

Yes, that would be perfect. A perfect end to his life, one day.

However, right now, he wanted something much more. It was a simple instinct, a craving, that called to him, like invisible strings pulling his limbs towards a goal that much be achieved.

Scrap the plans to study. Tonight, after disposing of everything, Budo knew he would be sitting outside Ayano's window, in his usual spot by the tree, relaxed, looking into her bedroom window and watching her bedtime ritual. He'd be appreciating her loveliness, and whispering quiet devotions of love to her - just loud enough that only he could hear.

And then, when she was sleeping surely, he might even help himself inside and rest next to her. He'd be gone by morning, before even the slightest rosy tint tickled the edge of the hemisphere.

She wouldn't even know he'd been there.

--The End--

*A/N: Dear Reader, thank you for taking the time to read this story. I hope you enjoyed it. In particular I extend my thanks to the YandereChips members for so enthusiastically spamming the comment box of Chapter 8 - I'm certain this story would not be as successful as it is without you, and for that you have my gratitude.*