Chapter 1: Urban Legends


    Asahi, The Fire Squid


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    “Hey, Asahi. What do ya think about urban legends?” Wren asked me, his beer mug hovering too close to his chin.


    “Are you drunk already? You’ve barely had one drink.”


    “My good sir. Do I ever pose sane questions when I’m drunk?” Wren put on some fantasy knight accent. It was terrible; I barely understood what he said.


    “You don’t pose sane questions when you’re sober.”


    “Fair.”


    “Out with it. Tell me about these urban legends of yours.”


    “I heard about this girl who was attacked recently. Apparently she was being chased by this guy, WHO DIDN’T HAVE A FACE!” Wren exclaimed, his eyes glinting with a very maniacal glint. A glint that was usually followed by either a flash-in-the-pan idea, short lived enthusiasm, or an absurd proposition. Something I both loved and hated about this man.


    “Really, and I suppose this victim has a name?” Often, I questioned where he got his information from. The Police Department? Out of his ass? Or, the worst possible place – Weddit.


    Wren furrowed his brow and closed his eyes, going into deep thought, or, as he called it, “his mind palace.”


    For no reason whatsoever, I got this tingling feeling of being watched. The room felt a lot colder than it did a second ago. I looked around The Fire Squid, at this point our go-to establishment for dinner so often that it was as familiar to us as home or school, close to campus, and with great value-for-money.


    At first glance, the Izakaya with its two-floor fantasy-themed central kitchen looked the same. I squinted. Two chefs on each floor; nothing out of the ordinary. The dumbwaiter to pass items back and forth between the floors; the usual. The wait staff who ran the food, the busboys who cleaned the tables, the rest of the team; just a regular day. Even the obviously watered-down all-you-can-drink beer fountain looked the same.


    But for some reason, the surrounding noises began to dim and my vision started to get cloudy. Out of nowhere, a woman a few tables from us let out a blood-curdling scream.


    “NO MORE! PLEASE NO MORE! I CAN’T TAKE IT. STOP WHISPERING IN MY EAR!” she screamed at the top of her voice. She tried to get up but fell, knocking her food off the table.


    “What the- Why’s that chick on the floor?” Wren asked, blinking rapidly as he came back to the world of the living.


    Just then, I saw a figure rush out the door. A flash of black, nothing else.


    “Hey, did you see-”


    “Matsumi Honda.” Wren blurted out. “Matsumi Honda… she works at the Gardener Construction company. She was attacked… last night in a back alley not too far from my apartment… and then hung upside down… from a light pole.” Wren’s pattern of speech was almost robotic, like he was reading off a script.


    Something wasn’t right.


    “Dude? You okay?” I asked, forgetting the screaming woman for a moment. Wren’s robotic tone had sent a shiver down my spine.


    “I think we should make ourselves scarce, this just isn’t the right setting for food,” Wren stood up, ignoring my question entirely, with a clear look of discomfort sprawled across his face.


    I sighed. I should be used to Wren’s whirlwind of mood changes by now. One moment we’d be serious about work, then he’d be flirting with me, calling his one and only true love. But this didn’t seem like his normal mood swings. Must be one of his hidden quirks. Shaking it off, I chugged the rest of my beer. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw medics rush in and approach the now crying woman.


    “Okay, let’s have the food to go?”


    “Yeah, can you handle that? I’ve gotta pee. Let''s split the bill.”


    A few minutes later, I found myself with the check, a decidedly quieter restaurant sans a screaming woman, and a now ready-to-leave Wren sitting across the table, fumbling with his wallet. Before he could fish out his half of the bill, the portable card reader beeped. Wren looked at me with a puppy dog expression as I took my card and the bill from the waiter.


    “That’s 121k now,” I said, a diabolical grin spreading across my face. Wren’s face fell.


    As soon as we stepped out of the restaurant, the air felt different – lighter and cleaner – despite us being in the middle of a crowded city street. It made me realise how stuffy the Fire Squid was.


    Nights in Zayu were known to be cold, but tonight felt especially so. The events in the Fire Squid had put me on edge. The woman who had a mental breakdown, Wren going full robot mode, and the dark figure who fled.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    Maybe it was the lingering feelings of something being off, but I didn’t want us to split up just yet. Fortunately, I had to pick up a few books I’d left at Wren’s apartment anyway.


    “I’ll come pick up my books from yours?”


    “Yeah sure.”


    The route to Wren’s place was a familiar one. I’d spent many nights there, coaching him through a report that was due the next day, helping him clean up, passing out after getting too wasted, but mostly just chilling and doing our own thing.


    We turned onto the familiar well-lit residential street. We saw the familiar vending machine with its familiar drinks. Wren stopped, fed a few notes into the machine and got two drinks. “It’s a lot colder out than usual,” he muttered as he handed me a can of Milton Black Mint Tea, unsweetened.


    “Maybe we should bust out the scarves tomorrow. If this continues, we''re getting snowfall later for sure,” I said, watching my words form little clouds of condensation.


    “Mmm.”


    Downing our drinks, we tossed the cans into a nearby bin and continued. Every step we took the air around us seemed to get colder. The silence seemed to creep in along with the darkness. The shadows somehow seemed to hold more shadows within them, almost like portals to another world. Thankfully, the streetlamps fought it off, creating a safe path for us.


    I shook my head, laughing at my poetic idiocy. I must’ve been more spooked than I thought.


    The small residential street seemed to stretch on and on. I frown. This seemed way longer than I remembered, unusual given how often I’d taken this route with Wren. He was shivering next to me, though his unending stubbornness refused to admit it. We turned the corner of the street, both hands already reaching out to grasp Wren’s doorknob, but brushing the familiar cool surface of the vending machine instead.


    We both paused, staring at the artificially-bright display.


    Something wasn’t right.


    “Strange, I think we got turned around somehow,” Wren said, ever the optimist.


    “Most probably,” I blurted out, shoving my more pessimistic side away for the moment. We continued walking.


    The silence grew more and more eerie. Our footsteps seemed to echo down the street. You could hear a pin drop, a moth flap its wings. The only thing keeping me from freaking out was Wren’s occasional muttering, but it was too muted for me to make out anything. The silence was screeching in my ears, the cold was setting my skin on fire. The street lamps started to flicker, the once resolute defenders against the darkness faltering. It took only another moment; we ended up in total darkness.


    Now Wren had an uneasy look on his face. “Hey? Did we miss a turn or something?”


    “Lemme check Zoogle Maps,” I said, pulling out my phone, though it too seemed to have surrendered to the darkness. No matter how many times I pressed the power button, the screen refused to show an ounce of life. Getting impatient, Wren pulled out his own phone, only to be met with the same result.


    “Why aren’t our phones working?” I asked, my fingers now completely numb.


    “Let’s keep walking. I know we’re close,” Wren said, a hint of worry in his voice.


    We continued through the void of pure darkness, unbearable silence, and murderous cold. No matter how long we spent in the dark, our eyes didn’t seem to adapt, leaving us to find our way using our hands. After walking, no, stumbling along for way too long, we saw a light in the distance. By unspoken agreement, the two of us ran. Our footsteps broke the silence like the welcome crack of thunder over a desert, only to come to a screeching halt upon seeing a very familiar 6-foot tall monolith standing under a lamp post.


    It was the vending machine.


    “What-” the words just fell out of my mouth. “No. No, it can’t be, right? Maybe they installed new vending machines down the block. Ha, haha! Yeah, that must be it,” my voice came out shaky.


    Wren walked over to the trash can next to the vending machine and peered in. He stood there frozen for a whole minute. “Hey, uh, Asahi?” he asked, his voice shaking.


    Something wasn’t right.


    “Yeah?” I asked, slowly walking towards him.


    I peered inside the trash can, and froze. The light of the vending machine glinted off the cans piled high inside the trash, like little malicious faces winking at us. A singular wrapper at the top caught my eye. Milton Black Mint Tea, unsweetened.


    Wren exchanged a terrified glance with me before bolting into the darkness, shouting ,“WAIT HERE. I’LL GET HELP!” “Wait!” I shouted after him. “I don’t think splitting up is a good idea!” Too late.


    An hour passed, but no Wren.


    Two hours passed, still no Wren.


    Three hours passed, and I was still alone. Or so I thought.


    Something wasn’t right.


    The longer I sat there on the ground, the more a sense of impending doom came over me. It was the same feeling from the Fire Squid. I was being watched.


    “He- Hello?” I called out. “If that’s you, Wren, this isn’t funny.”


    The darkness absorbed my words, leaving not a single trace of them.


    “Wren? You there buddy?” I asked, hoping to get a response. But I didn’t.


    “Run” A voice called out to me. It was faint, but Wren’s.


    Wren was telling me to run. There must be someone in the darkness waiting for me. Not needing any other reason, I made a break for it into what was also the darkness, but in the opposite direction where I was being watched.


    I ran as fast as my feet allowed me.


    Eventually, I saw a light in the distance. Relief washed over me.


    Until I noticed something. Something that I really didn’t want to see. The familiar monolith. The vending machine. My footsteps faltered. My mad dash came to an end.


    Something wasn’t right.


    Tired, cold, alone, and defeated, I walked over to the machine, entered some money, and selected a drink.


    “Where’s the nearest graveyard?” A voice asked. My body froze, the voice spoke right behind my ear. I felt a strong hand gripping my shoulder, causing my body to freeze up.


    “I don’t know. Maybe it’s down the street?”


    “Funny. That’s what your friend told me as well. But I couldn’t.. Find one.” The voice was a lot closer. Almost as if it had penetrated my brain. The grip on my shoulder tightened.


    “What did you do to Wren?” I asked.


    “Uh uh uh. Wrong answer,” the voice said in a raspy tone.


    Before I had time to react, I was thrown at the vending machine. Pain exploded across my side. Dimly, I heard the glass shattering and saw the lights go out. The darkness slammed down on me like a physical force. I tried to get up, but stopped when pain shot through my left thigh. I felt for it. Glass, embedded. Hot liquid running down my leg, the smell of rust heavy in the air. I was helpless and immobile as footsteps sounded around me and I felt hands on my neck.


    His firm grip blocked my wind pipes, suffocating me. My eyes rolled up. Either way it didn’t matter. I was bleeding out and a murderous man was squeezing my neck. As I felt my eyes closing, a loud shatter split the damning silence. I tried to turn my head or hold on to consciousness. I failed. It felt almost like a nightmare…