“But a bird that stalks down his narrow cage
can seldom see through his bars of rage
his wings are clipped, and his feet are tied so he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings with a fearful trill
of things unknown but longed for still
and his tune is heard on the distant hill
for the caged bird sings of freedom.”
. . .
It was well-past lunchbreak when William steps into the convenience store that was just within a walking distance, a few blocks from where they were currently staying at.
The brisk chill of the air-conditioner slaps his skin like a physical hit and if he was to choose between the air in here or from the outside, he couldn’t really judge which is worse. He shivers again even as his cheeks feels sort of soothed from the biting autumn breeze and resists the urge to sneeze out loud.
William tugs at the neck of his hoodie in a useless attempt to hide his embarrassingly chattering teeth, sorely regretting the fact that he had not bothered with a scarf at the very least. Damn it, he does not want to catch a cold right now, but the beginnings of a pounding headache seems to have other ideas. His sister will never let him hear the end of it he suddenly gets sick or something.
Nodding at the cashier (who quickly looks away from him—seriously, what a weird girl), William grabs a basket on the way and heads off towards the aisle, resisting the urge to wipe at his sudden runny nose. Ugh, now he needs to get himself some tissues… without Winters finding them and asking questions.
Fan-fucking-tastic.
…Well, fuck. This is just great.
It is not as if he feels like shit already.
Seriously, hunting and tracking monsters are already stressful as is, he can’t afford to feel under the weather because the sudden cold air and him aren’t on good terms at the moment—especially right now.
Why can’t he just get a break?
Sniffling almost miserably to himself, William grabs some well-deserved snacks off the shelves (because he and Alastor had burned through most of his stash the last time they binge-watched anime and Winters had eaten the last pack of Oreos no matter how much she lies and denies it to his face) and throws them carelessly into the basket.
…Wait.
Wait a minute.
He stops at a stack of junk foods, eyeing it critically. Which potato chips did Alastor want again? Sour cream or was it the barbecue-flavored…?
William internally tries to wrack his sleep-deprived brain to please kindly cooperate and remember, but his temples only pulse in the beginning of a headache, almost defiantly. Great, even his own head is going out of its way to rebel.
Lovely.
He rubs his forehead. At least, his sister’s preferences were something he already knows by heart: Winters wasn’t too keen around junk foods (and if she had her way, she’d make him eat the nasty, green stuff or if he’s lucky, it’ll be just fruits) but he knows she enjoys matcha-chip cookies or any dark chocolate flavored sweets…
Maybe Alastor’s tastes were more of the same as her’s? The werewolf has been a die-hard fan of strawberry milk ever since he discovered their existence, after all.
Ah, whatever…
Making his way to the drinks’ section (glad there wasn’t too many people out and about right now), he opens one of the fridges and leisurely scans for the drinks.
He checks off the list mentally. Matcha tea for Winters. Strawberry milk for Alastor… and some beers whenever Winters is out to who knows where to keep their resident werewolf from looking too much like a kicked puppy while Alastor waits for her to come back.
William frowns, trying not to tremble at the sudden blast of cold air hitting him right at his face. Ugh, for fuck’s sake… where the ever-loving fuck is the damn coffee?
He opens the next fridge and skeptically eyes the rows of fruit juice with a scowl. It’s not really what he was looking for… but despite himself, he tossed some apple and orange juice on the basket just to pacify his sister if she ever caught him snacking again before moving on to the next—oh look, there it is!
William crouches down and happily grabs the brand of coffee he likes—the one that is purely black and strong enough to keep him up and about for hours on end—that was located on the bottom shelf.
When he quickly straightens up with a merry hop in his step, his vision oddly blurs for a second or two, all bright lights and colors flashing like a bunch of cameras from paparazzi, making him stumble a bit backwards, barely managing to keep himself from crashing on the shelf behind him.
He shakes his head to clear his vision.
Damn, he feels so stuffy and weird. Maybe it’s not a good idea get the snacks by himself. He… doesn’t really feel so good right now.
The very sweet urge to haul his ass back to the hotel and turn himself into a burrito in his ridiculously warm bed suddenly rises. Aw, now that thought sounds so tempting. Actually, you know what? That sounds like a good idea. A very good idea if he do so say himself. He has gotten mostly everything he needs, anyway.
William heads to the cashier and slides the basket across the counter, not forgetting to pick up something for the headache and some tissues. He’ll just ask Alastor (or maybe Winters) for some medicine later.
Hopefully never.
The cashier rings the snacks up hurriedly. William sees her mouth move but hears none of the words, his eyes focused on the bright redness of her cheeks, the way she keeps on glancing at him and the snacks every now and then in a rather flustered manner. Damn, does she feel sick too?
The price flashes across the screen in green numbers. And before the girl can tell him how much she needs him to pay for, William was already digging through his pocket to get the right amount.
“A…rigatou,” he muttered.
William wasn’t too sure, but he could have sworn the girl just about turned redder at that (is that even possible?), muttering a high-pitched: “H-Hai! Itterasshai!”
Oh, well.
At least he still has his manners.
William smiles amicably (or at least, he hoped it looked friendly enough, but the cashier girl only stares down at her fidgeting hands so… maybe not. Eh, at least he tried) before he grabs the bag and turns to walk out of the convenience store.
…and instantly regrets it.
Fuck.
He forgot it was almost just as cold outside.
The air rages at him with a vengeance, seeping in his not-too thick hoodie. William winced, suddenly feeling too hot and cold at once.
That’s too weird. Is that even possible?
That’s definitely not normal, right?
…Right.
William gingerly touches his forehead, but all he feels is his too-warm palm practically drenched with cold sweat. Closing his eyes as he leans on the railing for a moment, he tries not to swear out loud because he’s still in public and fuck, this can’t be happening.
He can’t seriously be sick right now.
But the tell-tale signs are all there, glaring right at him and gods damn it, he’ll definitely hear it from Winters now. What kind of an idiot gets sick a few days before their birthday, anyway?
William hurries down the sidewalk.
Him, apparently.
And of all the time he could get sick, it has to happen now of all fucking times, which really, really, really stinks since he had a number of things to do (he’s supposed to be visiting Eiji or Rei, call Nick to gather some intel and see which job he can take while in Tokyo for the time being, probably take down some evil ghosts or maybe a yokai or two on the way) which… sure, it does leaves him in his default state of being sleep deprived during the mornings—or a panda as Alastor had so eloquently put it—but a good night’s sleep is a price to pay for the sake of his profession.
His vision blurs and spins again.
Fuck.
He is so not passing out right now.
The plastic bag spins, twisting and weighing heavily in his fingers in a bid to keep him distracted. William has tracked and fought down monsters twice his size while he was in his late teens—he is so not freaking out because of a fucking fever. He turns left and ducks into the open playground to take a shortcut back to the hotel.
A sudden breeze makes him feel too cold and too hot again. The throbbing in his head gets heavier, painful. William sucks in a deep breath. He definitely should not have gone out.
He does not feel so good.
It is just that… William had said too much to Alastor earlier and it bothers him because he wasn’t one to be so trusting.
Sure, the werewolf was cool and all. Alastor had certainly more than proven that he can be trusted while he was living with them for these past few weeks, but the way he had so easily gotten himself in William’s and his sister’s lives (when it had just been the two of them for so long) rattles him sometimes.
In not a good way. In a way that keeps his paranoia buzzing, alert and alive in the worst of times. Like a hive of buzzing bees.
And while William was glad to have someone close enough he can consider as some sort of a… brother… figure… some part of him feels like he’s losing his sister at the same time. Maybe this was just his paranoia talking?
Or maybe because deep down inside, William knows, with absolute certainty, that he’s going to lose his sacred spot of being the only person that Winters Veil has truly cared about. But William… didn’t even feel jealous.
As a matter of fact, he feels relieved.
Like a weight has been lifted off of him.
But now that he thought more about it, Winters sure doesn’t feel like his sister these days. The few and very brief moments she stays, she acts as Proserpina way too much lately…
And from her too-sudden admission of losing one of the very few things that made her appear ‘human’ in his eyes (the fact that she was just now eating for appearances sake alone—) was some sort of a glaring, warning sign that he shouldn’t have just brushed aside in favor of a temporary, peace of mind.
That cold intensity in her eyes that William does not like one bit because it made his insides churn with dread when she easily confessed what she just lost. He had seen that look before.
It was levelled at others but never at him.
Last night almost feels like an olive branch. The guitar that looked too much like their dad’s, the gift-giving, the mention of remembering his birthday… and her playing for him soothes him, if only a bit.
Normally, William would distract her whenever he feels like things are getting tough. He would spend a lot of time with her be it inside whatever place they are staying at or just about anywhere, really. He would babble about stupid things likes games, movies, or the books they both liked reading.
William would usually do things that got her shaking her head in exasperation whenever she catches him eating pizza or junk food in the oddest of hours, or she would scold and nag at him for this or that.
And while annoying, that is always a win for him because it means that William has successfully dragged her out of whatever that creepy funk she was on, if it means it brings her back to act like Winters again. Like the big sister he remembered raising him.
Normally, that is. That’s what would do. That’s what he would always do. But these days… what is normal anymore?
Even before Alastor came snowballing into their lives, even before William had clawed and fought his way all tooth and nail into becoming a hunter despite his sister’s very vocal protests, none of their situation could even be considered as ‘normal’. It hadn’t been for a very long time and Roman fucking over their lives because of his weird obsession on Winters had complicated things a thousand more.
William does not know what normal is anymore and he doubts Winters even knows how to return to normal when she wasn’t even normal from the get-go.
He sees his big sister coming in and out of her room these days, all frowns, and almost no time to entertain Alastor or for him with all the sudden secrecy (and in the first place, wasn’t the point of going to Japan their time to get some bonding done?), and all he wants to do is wrap his arms around her and make her stay, firmly grounded with him, in the present.
Since when does she keep secrets from him? Since when did a huge, invisible wall even came up between the two of them?
So, when William saw Alastor looking absolutely miserable first thing in the morning, he did not do any of the things he normally would and should have done. Instead, he verbally attacked and advised the poor guy in the same go before leaving like a bloody coward.
William cringes.
Fuck, it was so wrong of him in so many levels to get involved with whatever the issue was between Alastor and his sister, but it was a whole lot worse ribbing on the werewolf just because there’s no one else to get angry at.
His grip tightens around the bag, guiltily.
Alastor had been nothing but nice to him, if not, a bit annoyingly caring that it was kind of weird because William has never remembered anyone else caring long enough for him other than Winters… and his dad.
If William cannot even be a good friend, then how the hell is he supposed to act around Alastor? The werewolf’s a total wildcard, the unexpected that William could never have accounted for. And gods damn it, he seriously has to talk to Al the moment he gets back. It does not even have to be about Winters. They can just hang and talk like they used to. Like bros.
Yeah. William nods to himself. That’s better.
There’s a plan.
And just like that, the tiny hairs on the back of his neck suddenly felt like standing straight to attention. William tries not tense up as he forces himself to keep walking, don’t falter. Act like you haven’t noticed that someone’s watching.
Following him.
Fuck…
He hasn’t noticed.
William has definitely not noticed.
How long had someone been onto him?
He briefly glance to the vague figure somewhere on his left, trying to make it appear natural as he makes a show of blowing on a stray hair hanging in front of his eyes.
From the corner of his vision, he catches sight of a long-limbed lady, all pale skin and tattered clothes and dark hair with an unnervingly long neck that seems to defy the laws of nature as it floats about like fucking flowers.
For some scary reason, it seems to be pointedly staring at him by the park bench he had just passed a few seconds ago. William was also 100% sure it wasn’t standing there earlier though.
. . .
“The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn, and he names the sky his own.”
. . .
William frowns.
There was something about this one that sends his instincts blaring with alarm, like sirens going on and off in his brain. Maybe it was because it’s seemed so intent on following him?
That he had almost missed it?
The fact that it took William a whole lot longer to wrack his brains for information was something that he definitely blames on his fever. A monster that looks like a normal human woman but with an elongated neck… what was it called again?
Rokurokubi.
A type of Japanese apparition. They look almost completely like humans with some differences. From what little he remembered, there is also a type whose neck stretches and another whose head detaches, and flies around freely called nukekubi.
William suddenly, very sincerely hopes this one doesn’t have a head like that. A flying head isn’t something he wants to see at the moment, even in broad daylight.
Especially if it was planning to stalk him.
His life is freaky as is, please don’t make him see another more weird thing because his mind just might about give up at the weirdness his life has somehow come to. Although, to be honest, it is not that weird to see a monster wandering about in broad daylight, especially in a public place (Alastor, for example) … but a kind of monster like this, one that is known to be a supposedly malevolent spirit from their country’s folklore?
It’s worrying enough.
Abandoning all pretenses, his eyes trail down its tattered, plain white kimono drooping on the ground. William narrows his eyes at it into a glare, a clear warning to stay back.
But then he sees it.
Blood.
There’s blood staining from the edges of its clothes.
It didn’t look fresh.
Did it just kill someone…?
The rokurokubi seemed to tilt its head, as if acknowledging his gaze, a deceptively lovely smile creeping up its bloody mouth before it turns to walk away, its elongated neck suddenly appearing normal.
Appearing human.
William almost drops the bag when he chases after it on instinct. The trees and some of the little children with a parent or two blur past him in colors, some of them even grabbing their kid out of his way.
Damn it.
There’s too many people here.
And he only had a knife or two on him. Why the hell didn’t he brought his gun with him? Why the flying fuck does that thing have to be so fast?!
Eyes locked on the stark-red bloodstains on such a white kimono, he lunges forward over an iron fence before he makes a go for it. His fingers swiped through the fabric—he was too fucking close damn it! —grabbing nothing but thin air.
William curses out loud as he drops the bag.
He’ll get back to those later.
The rokurokubi darts off further into the street, going past the road William had just crossed and way past the convenience store.
Not bothering with apologies, William weaves in and out through the crowd of high school students without a hint of stopping. It turns left and disappears right around the corner, its white kimono flaring and billowing out behind it, almost mockingly.
He follows right after.
His feet immediately slides into a stop.
Four.
He grits his teeth.
There’s fucking four of them…!
And all of the women looked frightfully identical from their too-long black hair that somehow, in some odd way, eerily reminded him of his sister’s as they all looked down at him from the height their elongated necks. They all loomed over him in the alleyway, their necks lengthening enough to block his path, keeping him from escaping before he even thought of planning an escape route just in case things go south, their smiles stretching too wide with far too many teeth.
William blinks, resisting the urge to back away as they slowly closed in on him, their teeth gnashing. Did it just intentionally lure him here?
In answer, one of the heads suddenly darted forward without a warning, mouth wide open into a fanged, hungry grin. Whirling in place, William dodges and catches it by the back of its head before shoving it face-first on the other that had been inching too close for his liking on his back.
They crashed against each other and hissed as the reared back. And much to his delight, they faded like ashes on the wind at the impact.
Two.
Already up and moving despite the way his vision spins for a few scary seconds, William slides underneath another ridiculously long neck shooting out, chomping on where he had been last standing. He sweeps his leg out. His foot slams right into its throat, causing it to choke before he swipes his blade out.
Wiping at his face to get rid of the blood, William lays on the ground for a moment as the creature above him shrieks and trashes as tar-like blood continues to seep out of its grotesque body and onto him.
Three. That’s three…
The air whistles somewhere on his right.
He rolls out of the way just as the fourth rushed past him.
Fuck. Was it aiming for his head?!
Well, you know what?
Fuck it.
William charges, much to its shock.
Not giving it enough time to reel back, he whips out his remaining knife from within his hoodie pocket and drives the blade straight at its eye, causing it to let out an ungodly wail.
It immediately starts to burn.
“How’d you like that, huh? That’s blessed silver, you long-necked bitch.” William taunted, spinning around as he viciously yanks his arm back, causing blood and something like ash to spray out around him like a grotesque fountain while the rokurokubi fades away like smoke.
Four.
That was the last one, right–?
His gasp barely slipped past his lips when he stumbled in place just as something crashed right into him, literally knocking the air out of him as it winded around his chest and stomach like an anaconda, making him scream when it squeezed him like it was planning to crush his bones into a pulp.
“Watashi no kodomo!” the head screeches right at his ear with an unnecessarily loud voice, making his eardrums ring, like they were about to burst, “Anata wa watashi no kodomo-tachi o koroshimashita!”
Fuck.
FUCK!
Cold, inhuman skin tightened around his body as it continued to squeeze. And this time, William can feel some of his bones beginning to yield under the pressure. Gods damn it, he didn’t even know there was a fifth one!
Braving against the pain, William drops his head forward for a moment before lurching back, hearing a satisfying crunch behind him, the sound of the creature screeching in pain almost distant in his ears.
It was not enough to let go.
This time, William couldn’t stop himself from crying out loud when he definitely felt something crack. Oh, gods. Oh, gods—was that his rib?!
And if that wasn’t bad enough, the rokurokubi opened its mouth before tearing out a large chunk out of his shoulder in one, messy chomp. His mind instantly blurs and blanks for one, blessed horrifying moment before the pain burns fierce and true at the next second as he desperately squirms around its neck, his blunt nails desperately scrabbling and digging at its skin in a bid to wrench himself free.
Get it off get it off get it off get it off GET IT OFF OF ME!
Another bite. Another flesh gone.
Another.
Another.
Another.
Another.
Distantly, William could have sworn he felt something cold fluttering against his damp cheeks, like the many feet of a spider running across his face.
“W…” he sucks in a deep breath, “Wint…”
Much to his shame, his eyes watered almost instantly just as a deceptively soft baritone reaches his ears: “Long time no see, William Veil.”
William couldn’t be too sure, but he thinks he spat at the direction of Roman’s disgusting, smiling face—his sight blurring in and out of focus. His spittle tinged with a horrifyingly stark red against such pale skin the last thing he sees—before the world instantly turns dark when a heavy hand suddenly slams against his cheek.
. . .
“But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream.”
—Maya Angelou