---
The woman's hands trembled as she gripped the edge of Akari's low table.
Client: "That abomination … it doesn't start with the killings. It starts with him just… being there."
Akari leaned back slightly, giving her space. Izan's presence above the room was heavy, like a ceiling pressing down.
Client: "He always comes at night. You don't hear footsteps, you don't hear the door — but when you wake, he's in the corner of the room. Standing. Watching."
Her eyes darted to the shadowed edges of Akari's office, as if checking they were empty.
Client: "There's no face. Just a mouth. It stretches too far, like the skin can't contain it. It doesn't move when he talks — and you do hear him talk — but his voice… it feels like it's crawling into your ear."
She shivered, clasping her hands together.
Client: "It's always the same. He chooses a woman — young or old, doesn't matter. And the next morning, she's… different. Dazed. Her eyes don't quite focus. She says nothing about him, even if you ask directly. Within a week, she's pregnant."
Akari said nothing. His pen rested over a blank sheet of paper.
Client: "The pregnancy… it doesn't last the usual months. It's faster. Too fast. By the fourth week, she's ready to give birth."
Her voice cracked.
Client: "And the night she does… he's there again. Smiling. Always smiling. The next morning, the child is gone. And the mother—"
She stopped, breath catching.
Client: "The mother is found dead. No wounds. No blood. Just… gone inside. Like she's been hollowed out."
The room went quiet. Outside, rain drummed faintly on the roof.
Client: "It's been happening for years. My sister was the last. I can't—" (her voice faltered) "—I can't let it happen again."
Akari's gaze flicked upward, briefly meeting Izan's. The eyeball's pupil contracted, a slow, deliberate movement.
Akari: "Leave your contact information. I'll be in touch."
---
She left minutes later, her footsteps fading down the narrow street.
The moment the door slid shut, Izan's voice filled the room.
Izan: "It is not a man."
Akari rubbed his temple. "Then what is it?"
Izan: "A Haranome. Ancient. It was once human, but something—" (a pause, the sound of a slow blink) "—replaced its purpose. It breeds through possession and consumes not the body, but the life force of the host. Its kind is drawn to villages where bloodlines are isolated. Easier to spread. Easier to hide."
Akari's jaw tightened.
Akari: "And it's been at it for years."
Izan: "Yes. Which means its roots have dug deep. Removing it will be… unpleasant."
---
Akari reached for a sheet of paper, scribbling numbers on it. He slid it into an envelope, sealed it, and set it aside for delivery. Business was business, even in matters like this.
Akari: "Send her the bill. Half up front, half when it's done."
He crossed the room, pulling a folded map from the shelf. His finger traced the prefecture lines until it landed on a tiny mark surrounded by forest and mountain.
Akari: "So that's where you're hiding."
He stood, pulling his coat from the rack. Dark fabric with a high collar, heavy enough to keep the night chill out. He fastened it slowly, the buttons clicking into place.
Izan descended from the ceiling, hovering above him, the single great eye reflecting the dim light of the room.
Akari: "Let's go, then."
---
The rain had stopped. The street was slick, the lamps casting thin spears of light through the mist.
Akari stepped into the night, his shadow stretching long across the wet pavement. Above him, Izan floated like a silent moon, its gaze fixed forward, the reflection of every lamp warping across its curved surface.
In the stillness, the two figures — man and eye — moved through the sleeping town, the glow of the lamps dying behind them, one by one.
---