The start, which I wouldn't remember the date if it weren't for me sketching this down on my written notes of this stuff and yes, I wrote down stuff in a diary when I first came: April 11th. Not sure exactly what time it is, but school definitely started. Where? That was the same question I was asking.

  Each finger felt like it had been turned into one of those post-apocalyptic bats that had nails driven through them. Whether it was because they had roughly dropped me onto the mat of wood or that they'd purposely made my hands brush on it wouldn't make my anger abate at all. That's what I felt within the first moment of waking up: rage. Despite being knocked out, none of my memories were scrambled—just a splintering headache that felt like my head was being ruptured into two with boiling magma running down the sides. It must've been a charm, I thought to myself as I got up from the board. Some charm had been placed on me so I constantly got into absurd scenarios. First was getting falsely accused of assault before I was kidnapped into some sort of dark web twist on Takeshi's Castle.

  True to form, I had been transported into a medieval cell where hundreds had probably been thrown in on similarly superfluous charges. Trespassing? Peh! If you leave the front door open then you're practically inviting me for dinner.

  My butt laid on a rough plank of wood that had a dingy looking rag laid in the center. Chains were the motif. Manacles hung loosely on all the walls inside. Dust was kicked up on the floor whenever my feet kicked out. Past the iron bars was rushing water. I'd never been in any kind of indoor river before and quickly got annoyed at how the room seemed to be filled with the horrid sound. Getting my senses back as the headache eased made the cell smell even worse. My shirt came up to cover my nose as the stale air turned into a specific type of wretched reserved for forgotten wine cellars. It was like a science experiment to cultivate mildew had been carried out, which was successful considering the amount of green that was growing on the cobble past the bars.

  Patting my body down found everything still in place. I still had my phone. I still had the meager amount of money that I took along with me.

  Some survival instinct kicked in which made me hunker down at the corner of the cell. Whoever stuck me inside was obviously not very magnanimous. As much as I wanted it to be, this wasn't a pilot episode and my future wife wasn't going to walk in with the keys. If anything, I could imagine that I was a sympathetic mob character with a wholesome story that would make the crowd weep when I was slaughtered.

  Heavy footsteps overpowered the rushing water, more audible and powerful than the clanking that sounded like an army of housewives armed with pots and pans. Considering that I hadn't heard a peep coming from the other cells, it could only mean one thing. I comforted myself by rubbing my palms against the coarse cloth that was supposed to be my pillow. Each splinter dragged against my skin.

  What I could never have predicted was that my captor was dressed in some kind of fetish gear.

  "Tch! This is the vagrant who broke in?"

  Granted, he nearly had a Goku-level physique. There were muscles poking out from areas that I didn't even know could be worked out. Still, it was hard to imagine that even with a body like that anyone would have the confidence to only be wearing a cloak, pink all through, with hearts stamped all over it. It nearly covered every inch of his body yet freely swayed with every exaggerated movement that he did while ordering the guards. The little light that was given to the prisoners worked exceptionally well in glittering off the sequins that also decked out his dress. A firm, square jaw that could probably be used to slice diamonds confidently smirked as he stood in front of my cell. The golden crown that peeked over his fluffy hair (it almost looked like mine, though not after I'd been introduced to nature's power wash) seemed to have a supernatural presence with how it drew my eyes.

  Though that was partially because I kept trying to avoid the problem areas. Men did not wear speedos. That was a worldwide government campaign to trick people into thinking those were real. And even with the crowd of knights that were surrounding my cell, it didn't beat out the crimes on his feet. Red clogs. Below legs belonging to a statue were those plastic-y looking things.

  "So even petty vagrants are able to break into here now. Guess I've got to check the discipline of my guards if security has fallen like this," he said.

  Something about him was familiar, but I dismissed the thought pretty quickly. I'd remember if there was a person who could confidently wear an outfit like he did.

  "Um," I interrupted myself as I stood up, grabbing my head to stop it from spilling out. Apparently the headache wasn't going away anytime soon. Staggering to the bars, I asked, "where am I? Or, why am I here?"

  "You ask a lot of questions for gutter trash." His finger stuck between the bars. "Magnanimous as I am, random scraps that have been blown in and stain my floors don't deserve anything except justice."

  The flush of rage overtook my face again. With a snarl, I took a huge step forwards and grabbed the bars. His finger was about to stab into my eye. "Listen, asshole, I didn't ask to be kidnapped here. What are you looking for? Huh? Make it a game to kidnap random people?"

  Anything else I could've said was sapped out when the man's face twisted into a sneer. His exaggerated features perfectly worked together into making the ridges of his eyes harsh, lips cracking across each ridge of his jaw, every feature working towards making his malice real. It was like the mask of an oni brought to life. The shock made me stumble back until I hit the wall.

  "You dare insult the king like this!? Death! I call for his death! Bring him to his knees and make a show of it to amuse me!"

  Feverishly, the word repeated in my head. Death. The door opened. Death. It rumbled in my ears and made my arms violently shudder when they were grabbed. The gauntleted hands felt cold as they wrapped around my biceps, forcing me down to my knees. If the bed was uncomfortable, it was nothing compared to the rough floor grating against my kneecaps. Any struggling was stopped as another knight grabbed and yanked my hands back like a zip tie.

  The sound of metal scraping against metal sent a visceral reaction through me. Shaking, my knees bled as they could only struggle in place.

  "Wait!" the king yelled. I couldn't look up as one of the knights decided to make the nape of my neck into an armrest, yet I could still imagine the smirk from how his voice oozed satisfaction. "Pick him up. I still haven't gotten my exercise in today."

  They followed his orders. The movement was so sudden that my head lolled around, headache temporarily blurring the room as they kept me in place. My legs kicking around probably only felt like flies against the knights' armor but I was well and truly gone at that point. I didn't even see the first blow coming.

  It sent my head flying to one side. My neck popped, all the soreness gone and gleefully rushing towards the swelling that was building up at my cheekbone. Some sort of question passed through my lips that I can't remember. Slobber too, I remember a thick line of drool trailing down onto my collar. My head bounced against my shoulder and hung limp. Those muscles weren't for show. It was the hardest I'd been hit in my life.

  The short look that I managed to get when my world stopped spinning was interrupted by the second blow. He wanted me to see it coming.

  From there, exact details were lost in a sea of red. Blood ran into one of my eyes while the next range of blows didn't wait. The sides, back, shoulders, arms, and stomach hits were each done with the driving power of somebody who practiced or had a bad childhood. Pain became the dominant emotion. Was it an emotion? It was now, especially when it became the only thing that I comprehended past the first few strikes. My limbs very well could've been broken at some point there with how the feeling in my fingers drained out in favor of the lances that were being shoved inside me.

  It was the one driven into my side, the lower part of my stomach, that kick drived another emotion. I know that it wasn't rational, and I'm not talking about how obviously my head wasn't in the position for rational thinking. Before then just was a desire for the pain to stop however it could. That hit seemed to flick a switch. Every nerve, every thought, every cell in my body was consumed by a boiling red: hate. Hate towards those that made me feel like I did. A single minded hate that drowned out the real world until I was floating in a senseless void. The aches dissipated into a pool that made my heart shudder. Even thinking of the situation now convinces me that it wasn't natural. With a single thought I could be brought back to that same rage that made it impossible to stand.

  Of course it takes a different form now but, well, that's skipping ahead a bit.

  I forgot what time was, where I was, how I got there, when I learned what real hate was. It convinced me that all those stories you've heard of vendettas that could stretch across centuries between families were true. It was so all-consuming that I forgot the words that I exchanged until I was back in reality. The knights were knocked to the ground and the king was fearfully cowering at the door of the cell.

  "I am thou. Thou art I."

  I leaned from foot to foot with a new weapon in hand. There was another me above me. A pillar of blue light had banished away the grimy darkness and replaced it with normal grime; the place wasn't anymore flattering with new lighting. A shout in my head urged me forward. The first leap brought me to the knight's engorged chest and let me stare into its mask. A black void stared back, mask locked into a permanent frown. The torch that washed over us couldn't pass through the eyeholes. I was hanging off its shoulders like a mosquito, proboscis waiting to plunge.

  My knife drove into his chest. Instead of sputtering out his dying words, the armor exploded into a blast of black, forcing me to leap backwards. Seeing no reason to change my strategy, I commanded myself (Arsene, I repeated, though he didn't care how he was referred to) to slice up the two other knights. The one I chose was barely picking himself up when my knife drove straight through his mouth hole. Even if there was just darkness on the other side, it felt like there was something physical that I was stabbing into.

  Ending my spree in the center of the room let me recognize that this wasn't the greatest place to have found myself. The king had fled. Arsene was floating above me. Surrounding me were a bunch of yokai. Apparently the bodies were just vessels that carried other things, and they didn't look happy that I'd just violently stabbed all of them. Four jack-o-lanterns wearing witch garbs and carrying lanterns with floating gloved hands surrounded me.

  The rage had left me after the initial assault. All that instinct seemed to drain out too, leaving me as an untrained boy in an unfamiliar situation with a normal knife.

  Gulping, I held up my weapon shakily. "En garde?"

  The one in front of me shook his lantern around until fire started bursting out from the cage, wrapping around its floating hand like they were exchanging a handshake. With a swing, it shot forwards in the shape of a ball.

  I 'eeked'. Not metaphorical. An actual, "eek!" came out as I fell backwards. Whatever inspiration that made me jump around like an acrobat had left me as the floor hit my back and Arsene disappeared in a veil of blue flames. The fireball impacted the wall and blew up in a minor explosion. This is also not an exaggeration. The resulting explosion made the top of my head flush, and had been large enough that I would've been completely engulfed if it hit.

  One of the lanterns rose up like a police baton as it approached me. Finally the inspiration came back as I somehow shifted my weight to my upper back and lifted my legs, pushing up with my hands to transition into a backflip. The lantern collided with the floor, sparks flying out from the hit. Marveling at my ability didn't have any place when all the pumpkins had the ability to create me-destroying explosions.

  Fingers worked around the ridges that surrounded my eyes. They instinctively reached there when I was thinking about help. An image came to mind as simply as my childhood dog—easier, even. Each measurement was created perfectly. The long red legs that ended at heels that were daggers. Long claws ready to gouge one of the stupid pumpkin grins off. Black wings that spread like a raven in flight. Some kind of lame suit thing along with a top hat that could probably brain somebody. It was an image as clear as what I'd see in the mirror.

  I dug beneath the mask and ripped it off. The exact image that I'd imagined appeared above one of the pumpkins. It barely had time to glance up in confusion before his clawed fingers reached straight through its eye hole and exited through the mouth. Arsene spun around before slamming it straight into the wall, creating a shower of black clumps to rain against us.

  The brutal execution of their own had made the others pause for a moment, long enough that I leapt with the speed of a cheetah without a reaction. The knife was pressed against my other shoulder, arm tensed in a long wind up. I remembered some video that I watched of a historian tearing apart a fight scene. Other than being genuinely outraged at how nitpicky he was, my only memory of it was the slower-paced parts being picked apart as having movements too exaggerated to work in a real fight. Indeed, the pumpkin easily calculated where I was pointing and brought his weapon up to block. It didn't matter when the lantern was sliced in half by the swing. I dug into the pumpkin's flesh but stopped halfway through, making me brace against him as he was used as a temporary sled.

  The words came as second nature. "Eiha!"

  Without even glancing back, I knew that some sort of fiery black thing came out from Arsene's snap. From his vision I could see the pumpkin who had been aiming at me get struck on its head, flipping forwards as a pathetic noise came out.

  I also knew that the other pumpkin had launched a fireball.

  Much too late to dodge, the heat washed across my back. Yet I remained surprisingly spry in the resulting explosion, flipping forwards when I was knocked off. Once again I was able to control my momentum by using a single hand to flip myself, the other one flicking my wrist without checking to aim. My hand and shoes landed down like a ninja, scraping against the ground as I slowed to a halt. The knife that I threw landed straight in the center of the damaged pumpkin. The melting body dropped my weapon onto the floor.

  That felt awesome. A wicked grin overtook me as I bolted forwards, scooping up the knife as I ran so close to the ground that I smelled the mold. The pumpkin who blasted me was gathering another stream of fire as it shook the lantern around.

  Arsene appeared behind him, smashing his hands down. Stunned, the pumpkin just floated absently as I sliced straight through him. The sixth sense from my persona sent alarm bells blaring, making me grab onto the impromptu cover and block my body as best as possible. Distantly I noted that an explosion right next to my ears should've been deafening as it reached from the cell's ceiling to floor. The heat hadn't even dissipated yet when I threw down the pumpkin and had Arsene stomp it into bits. My last prey was simply watching. I leaned into my dash, knife scraping against the floor, each step making me heavily sway.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  The final pumpkin raised his hands.

  "Wait, I—"

  It screeched as my heel dug into its face. Leaping upwards, I grasped the long handle of my knife with both hands. A visceral yell came out as I came down with all the force that I could muster. The monster was pinned into the ground like a butterfly, barely able to twitch before it exploded into another cloud of black.

  I'm still not entirely sure what makes 'thou' different from 'you', and if Arsene really was me, then he just said it to sound cool.

  I stood up and shook off my knife. Rapidly blinking, I looked back to where I was getting beaten up and might've been having a near-death hallucination. It could've been a near-death hallucination, though I immediately dismissed that line of thinking; it would've been too pathetic to have a last hurrah yo be imagining powers kicking in right on time to kill my killers. Everything was real. I awoke to a power at the brink of death that let me cast magic through a manifestation of myself and healed me and gave me a really long knife and also red gloves. The red gloves made a satisfying squelching noise as I purposely squeezed both my hands tightly.

  None of the injuries that would've debilitated me were left. Only a slight ache where the explosion had hit my back was pulsing as a reminder, though explosions that large also normally left people behind as chunks according to the movies. The day must've caught up with me at that moment (the day? It was barely the end of morning!) as I felt like collapsing right there. Laying down on the long slabs of rock that probably were still more comfortable than the bed in the cell made my knees buckle. Maybe stay? Don't stay, of course, but maybe?

  The first mote of light that flew made me pause. From there it spread like a chemical reaction, washing away the red and black outfit with a blue flame. The last evidence there even was a glove fluttered in the air before disappearing.

  The place felt colder than before. That horrible smell came rushing back too.

  "You bastard!"

  Something must've leaked through even without the outfit as I was able to duck underneath the punch. Instinct that wasn't mine kicked in. My back pushed upwards as I grabbed the man's wrist. Despite carrying a wall of muscle, I was able to distribute the weight perfectly while keeping a solid grip. He let out a shriek of surprise as his punch had been transferred into a toss. The splash was satisfying in a way that I couldn't even explain.

  He tried screaming, "you bastard!" again, though the river flowing into his mouth was making that hard. Apparently the king could swim as he was bobbing with as few strokes as possible. It also confirmed that it was deeper than from my first impression.

  "You degenerate scum!" The king finally got his bearings, frothing at the mouth. "I'll have you quartered for this! Quartered! My knights will split each of your limbs like a pig's! You'll be begging for death when I'm done with you!'

  Ignoring the generic threats, I looked at him. Just seeing the shape of the face was making me mad. Ending it right there would've been easy if I could still call upon the power that I awakened. Yet brushing my hands over my eyes and grasping around for the knife didn't make anything happen. With a final glare, I ran off, ignoring the insults that trailed behind me.

  Rushing through the dungeons was an arduous affair. Remember what I said about my athletics? Don't be fooled by the lucky break throwing the king. Every gate blocking the path was locked, leaving me to get creative in the escape. The gates on the other side of the river were generally open, but there were also no bridges over there. Carefully I'd balance on the precarious surfaces that remained slick from who knows how long they'd been sitting in the water.

  Right when I was getting confident in my ability, I finally made a mistake leaping on a cage. The metal proved to have less friction than I was expecting and let my foot slide in between the bars. My shin bounced against the metal as I fell forwards, bracing with my forearms. It proved not to matter as my stomach took the brunt of the impact and elbows banged against the edge. While my funny bone was ringing, I didn't have the thought to clench. My stomach bent, forehead rushed ahead and smacked against another bar. Flecks of water splattered against my face, barely a meter from the water's surface.

  Grass grew alongside the river. Cells lined every single wall. The torches became less and less useful as the river's mist slowly overtook the room, giving the whole place an even more surreal feeling. The cages were bringing up huge question marks. I'd seen them hanging from the ceiling and rusting in the river, but it was so comically inhumane that I just ignored it. There was a name for that. The giraffe in a room effect? Something like that. Clumps of fog escaped my mouth with each exhale as I noted how damn chilly it was in there, as if I were in a meat locker. I'm pretty sure that creepy basements were supposed to be the opposite.

  The break made me realize that I'd been running around blindly, fear making me careless. Getting up proved to be harder than I expected; apparently not working out your stomach made it hard to pick up your body with just your core. After minutes of shifting around, I finally was back on my feet and ready to move, mad dash broken into a cautious jog.

  The rest of the run was through similar hallways. Occasionally patrolling guards would peek out, but they were just as blind as I was and didn't investigate the silhouette running on the other end of the river.

  It was at the final stretch where it finally became too surreal for me. The empty cages suddenly had people inside them. Those cells dug into the wall, people too. Just to double-check, I looked down at my uniform and then looked at the prisoners. We wore the same uniform. This was some kind of spirited away kind of thing that I could already imagine: idiot new kids getting kidnapped by the spirit, never to be seen again as they were locked away forever. Metal masks firmly clasped around their heads made me keep my head straight forwards. No more smelling the roses.

  Blocking the final turn was a drawbridge. Next to it was a gigantic bust of the king, a baleful glare not at all covered up by the nasty full-toothed grin. Looking at it was disgusting, but nothing else connected to the doorway on the other side. Pushing against the wood did nothing. Some sort of mechanism must've lowered it. Thinking that it wasn't accessible was as good as giving up, so I pretended that the means to cross was on my side.

  I groaned out loud. It really was some kind of horror thing. This sort of puzzle is what a game would do.

  "Hey!"

  The voice made me jump, spinning around with my hands clenched like I had the blade.

  "Hey! Did I hear anybody? Help me out of here!"

  Call me selfish, but I honestly thought about leaving right there. It was imagining those metal cages clasped around the prisoner's heads that made me cautiously approach the cell in the corner.

  It was when I caught sight of the occupant of the cell that I immediately regretted listening.

  "What are you!?"

  It barely made it up to my knees and only did so because of its bulbous head. It was almost the same shape as Doraemon though, again, the bulbous head was still bigger. Its bulbous eyes were staring up at me eagerly. Desperately? I wasn't sure if it had human expressions and would've been disturbed if it did. Most of it was black and white fur. It was only the triangular ears at the top of its head that read some kind of familiarity.

  "Cat?"

  "I'm not a cat!" The thing stomped a foot down. With how much smaller from its head that it was, the action seemed adorable, wrapping around to being creepy. Its entire body was smaller than its head. "I'm a master thief and I'm trapped in here! Help me out and I'll help you out. You were looking at the drawbridge, right? I can help!"

  Some people would've called me weird for being skeptical of the thing. I've got a thought experiment: you're obviously in some kind of magic situation. You know passing bits of yokai because of your favorite shows. You've just been beaten within an inch of your life. Now there's something clearly not human begging for your help with an appearance that seems it's trying too hard to be cutesy. I think that most people would've done what I did.

  "What!? Come back! Let me out!"

  "If you're such a master thief then break yourself out!"

  Plus he lied within his greeting. What kind of master thief gets caught?

  Going back to the bust let me ignore the shouting that was coming from the cell as the river became louder. Both the eyes were there. No hidden lever was behind it. Moving it seemed impossible. It was only when closely inspecting the jaw that I noticed how it wasn't connected fully like a normal statue would be. Grabbing onto his lips and yanking down made a satisfying mechanical clang come from deep within the mechanism. The drawbridge lowered. With only a glance back, I ran across without caring if there were guards ahead.

  Caution was officially thrown to the wind. There was another guard—apparently made of a bunch of yokai—who pointed his sword towards me as I approached. The outfit appeared again in salivating preparation to slice his guts out. It probably was disappointed when I just shoulder checked the guard and continued running, leaving him rolling around like a turtle.

  There was a spiral staircase that led upwards. Running from there eventually led me to the same room that I first came inside. Guards patrolled around the exterior, quickly noticing that small and scrawny wasn't supposed to be standing there. Men poured down the stairs, forming a semi-circle around me in a desperate hope to keep me contained. Little hesitation made my limbs feel heavy as I made my first fantastical leap. The first one who tasted my boot did a futile swipe with their shield as I bounded towards the next one. His sword pierced where my heart was, dodged by a graceful contortion mid air. My back landed on their head, somehow getting transitioned into me doing a handstand on his shoulders. A sword that was meant for me slashed into his friend's head as I leapt straight across the rest of the men and continued running.

  Shoulder checking the door surprisingly didn't have it grunt at me. The courtyard was crawling with the same type of guards. A cacophony of shouts attempted to coordinate a strategy. With assurance that their reflexes weren't great, all I was worried about was up ahead: rapid clicking came from the portcullis lowering and drawbridge being raised. There was no time. This time I explicitly focused on getting there as fast as possible, swerving between their bulky bodies that attempted making a solid wall. No flips. No winks. The few slices that were attempted hit the air.

  Feet kicked up high. Breath even. Arms swinging. The gate fell, its teeth fell. There was no reason to with it still being only three-quarters down, but I slid underneath it. The drawbridge had risen high enough that leaping off it made me fly for a solid second, maybe two, three if I actually counted.

  It was the perfect moment. I turned around and flipped them off with both hands. Whatever was out there surely was better than getting my head sliced off by a male model obsessed with himself. I landed, and ran. I ran, and ran, continued running until my legs were cramping and I wanted to stop running.

  Blinking, I stopped running. It was somewhat dry. Not completely, but there were no longer the icky germs rubbing over everything. Moist corners were left around and some of the metal still glistened. Normal light came from the end of the tunnel. Wind billowed at my back. My arm came up to cover my eyes. Checking behind myself proved that there wasn't a castle standing there, but a normal school that would publicly hang me for being so late. My outfit was gone too which made me feel a little lonely for some reason. Mimicking the process of tearing off the mask didn't summon Arsene either, so I couldn't burn my teachers for giving me bad grades anytime soon.

  "...screw it."

  I walked around. The shape of something that might've been the school was past there but I'd be damned if that random alleyway plucked hapless schoolboys like me consistently. Better to avoid magic than run towards it; I never thought that I'd have to make that a policy, but it was now a policy that would be enshrined in my family forever. I didn't need to take out my phone to know that I was late. The sun was at a completely different angle and there were no students walking around. Being ten minutes later was worth not getting tortured again.

  All kinds of banners were hanging off the surprisingly fun building, and hear me out: most schools just ain't that pretty. Plants lining the staircase were already surprisingly trendy enough that it made me pause just past the gate, brushing a hand through them as if I had survived a nuclear war. All the parts sticking out from the building made it have a bunch of niches rather than being a boring gray box like so many other ones. With it abandoning the stupid long windows being on literally every single wall also, I really liked the look that it was cultivating. Combine that with the nice uniforms and I would've been feeling downright positive if it weren't for the bone-chilling tiredness that made my steps drag along.

  Magic or no, it felt like everything wasn't peachy keen. Stretching at the front door was supposed to psyche me up and maybe get some blood flowing. Any good feelings left when I opened the glass door.

  Students were milling around. I was really late.

  Nothing mattered except going to find my homeroom teacher. People glanced at me as I walked by. Whispers bit at my coattails. Those didn't register properly, and I initially thought I never left my original school. Even the pain of ostracization didn't compare to having to go up a second staircase. It winded me so bad that at the landing of the switchback stairs I needed to lean against the wall, holding my chest as I heaved. It didn't help the whispering when the new kid looked like he wanted to vomit. It didn't help my opinion of the school when nobody helped me.

  The faculty office was busy. I didn't care. The woman who I met earlier that week was sitting, doing some sort of paperwork. Standing behind her and clearing my throat didn't get her attention. One of the teachers sitting across pointed towards me.

  The head of curly hair (why was this so common? When I was back home, I was the only one in the entire school with it.) spun around on the swivel chair. She was a woman who had achieved the absolute nadir of a woman's height as I was sure even the freshmen girls had an inch on her. The striped shirt and a denim skirt that may have looked more flattering if it weren't for the bags under her eyes and somewhat frumpy appearance. Bandages wrapped around the finger that was still holding a pencil.

  Her wide eyes took me in.

  "Kurusu-kun. What were you doing?" She pointed when I just furrowed my eyebrows. "Where did you get that bruise?"

  I reached up and poked my eye.

  It only started hurting when I knew it was there.