seducess

This was a thought that troubled him too, but he left you alone to rest for now. Your life wasn’t for taking yet, as it was more so for studying as well as trying to get to the bottom of who you really were underneath the possible facade you put on.

Soon enough, he finally found himself out of the area and onto a wider road where the light guided him slowly but surely onto the freeway. Just up ahead though, there walked a figure sporting what appeared to be a large backpack and a slim build. Kenjaku squinted his eyes as his sights adjusted, spotting the man’s extended thumb.

…A hitchhiker?

Not missing the opportunity to pick up a willing lamb to the slaughter, he slowed down his car and parked it off to the side of the road. His eyes locked onto the man who walked in front of the lights and tapped his knuckles against the window where he sat.

Rolling the window down, he gave the man an opportunity to speak. “Any chance you can drop me off in the closest town over?” he asked in a thick overseas accent, maybe Australian if Kenjaku had to guess.

“Sure,” Kenjaku replied with a fake smile, “get in the back and I’ll get you there.”

He waited around as the back door opened, closing his eyes briefly to allow them to adjust to the sudden lit up vehicle interior.

“Thanks mate,” the man mumbled his appreciation as he shuffled against the back seat, his tone of voice hinting at genuine relief. He hugged his tightly packed backpack to his chest, resting his chin over the top. “Didn’t think anyone would be out this late.”

Kenjaku didn’t reply right away, allowing for the silence to hang in the air for a moment, just enough to make the man loudly gulp before starting up the engine again. “Yeah, not a whole lot of people out here. Guess you got lucky.”

The man nervously laughed in his response, feeling a ripple of unease shudder through him, “Y-yeah. Lucky…”

Kenjaku then pulled back onto the main road, observing through the rear view mirror just how the tourist seemed to shift around, finding the situation to be rather amusing. Although, his eyes soon drifted over to you as you finally seemed to register that—in your half asleep state—that there was an extra person in the car now.

Such a late reaction to what was happening around you made him feel strangely concerned for you in a way.

Did you really not have a single shred of self preservation in your body?

He supposed not, technically.

Otherwise you wouldn’t be here with him.

“Hey,” he muttered to you quietly in the local language, nudging at your arm, “you awake?”

You glanced at him as you finally came around, the brightening daylight filling the car. It took a while for you to respond as you adjusted to being awake, taking in the world around you. In the light, you could immediately tell that he was actually quite a bit older than you, maybe ten years your senior, give or take. Some fine lines in the making but nothing too prominent just yet. You then turned briefly to meet the rigid gaze of the hitchhiker before meeting with Kenjaku’s eyes once again, taking note of a slightly faded scar that spanned across his forehead before finally nodding.

“Yeah,” you replied, succumbing to a yawn as you spoke. “I’m up.”

“First role,” he continued to speak, keeping his volume relatively low, “let’s pretend to be together to ease the poor guy’s suspicion for long enough for me to actually find somewhere to stop.”

Your eyes suddenly lit up, finding the idea to be potentially entertaining. “Oh, how exciting. I’ll play the role of your wife perfectly well.”

His eye twitched. His… wife? Nevermind, he thought, this was no time to overthink whatever mental torture you were surely keen to put him through. For now, he just needed for the man to drop his guard around him so that he could further mess with him.

“So,” Kenjaku spoke up again, increasing his tone as he swapped back to English, “what brings you all the way out here?”

“Just visiting for the food and culture,” the man quickly replied, his tone still nervous, “I’m more of a… practical tourist than one who just stays in one place though, so I guess I just ended up walking more than I could handle,” he piled on, rambling away.

Kenjaku adjusted his rear mirror to study the man’s expression before responding, “Yeah? You’re a long way from civilization, huh? Must have been walking for a while.”

“Y-yeah, um,” the tourist stammered, his fingers fidgeting with the straps of his backpack, “I had been exploring some nature nearby and I-I thought I’d make it back before the sun set, but I guess I thought wrong.”

Kenjaku didn’t reply right away, wondering more about the man. He seemed young, maybe in his early twenties at most. He also seemed trusting but there was a vague hint of hesitancy in his demeanour, meaning he still had to play his cards right to get him to lower his defences.

“So, what are you doing out here, driving this late?” the man piped up again, desperate to break the lingering silence that hung thick in the air.

“Driving back home after a late flight,” Kenjaku lied, gesturing towards you, “we were on our…” he strained his voice through his teeth, reluctantly stooping down to your level, “…on our honeymoon.”

“Oh, so you’re newly weds?” the man asked, visibly relaxing as he glanced at you in the passenger seat. “Been anywhere nice?”

“Went to Thailand,” he replied, “beautiful place. Have you been?”

“Nah,” the man shook his head and the clinging tension away, “not yet anyway.”

“Maybe one day then,” Kenjaku replied, giving the hitchhiker some false hope that he still had a future. “What did you say your name was?”

“Huh? My name’s Sam,” he disclosed.

Kenjaku nodded, not speaking any further. The remainder of the ride was quiet as he plotted what to do next. This particular kill would be a decorated one because he couldn’t replicate his appearance by a long shot. The identity theft kills had to disappear completely, which was how he could stay under the radar long enough to not arouse any suspicion.

He did wonder what he could benefit from this case study though; it was certainly a unique one for a change. An overseas traveller who took interest in exploring the world, hitching rides from strangers and putting blind trust into them was certainly a point he could take notes from.

It was likely that this guy didn’t have his life figured out, though. Backpackers his age rarely did. Maybe he was searching for an explorative thrill too, just something a lot tamer.

Maybe there was something to seeing life and actually living it that was meaningful to the man, while he was still young and healthy at least.

Glancing towards you, he decided to try and sell the couple role a little better towards Sam to further comfort him. To an extent, he was also partially curious to see just how much you would let him get away with, but for the sake of the goal being to create a warmer atmosphere and to cast the illusion of a friendly situation, he wouldn’t go too far. Placing a hand over your leg, his palm brushed around the knee but didn’t explore any further than just that.

Your lacking reaction bothered him yet again though, because what exactly was your deal?

Sighing, he pried his hand off of you, parking into an old house that he had mentally scouted out just weeks before.

Akiya houses were pretty common all over the rural areas of Japan. Not all of them were in great condition, but that also depended on how long that they were abandoned for. This particular house wasn’t too far gone just yet and it was also perfectly tucked away from the main road, making it the perfect grounds to carry out his little experiment. Nothing beyond that though; there was no power, no plumbing and no supplies stocked up, so it couldn’t be a long term stay.

Glancing at you again, he wondered just how much you could help him here or if he would be better off with you observing for now.

You were surely odd though and that left him somewhat confused as to what your role could actually be in the long run.

The fact that he attempted to hunt you down and tried to scare you with a live burial not seeming to phase you was almost fascinating to him.

“Sorry, we’re stopping?” Sam interrupted, pulling him out of his thought process.

Kenjaku offered a tight smile before responding, “Just stopping by our home to pick up some food for the road. Maybe you’re interested in a bite to eat?”

“Y-yeah?” Sam replied, his shoulders sagging again. “Yeah, yeah… alright why not?”

Nodding, he let himself out first and then you before opening up the door to release Sam. He then dipped his hand into an old cracked plant pot, fishing out a set of keys to let himself inside.

“Let yourself in,” he gestured to you both, giving you in particular an encouraging push inside.

He studied you as you adapted to your role, immediately finding it peculiar that you were living up to your role just as promised. Although, your overly dramatic gasping towards finding that there was no power in the household to be a little annoying.

Watching as you switched to English, he observed with a narrowed gaze as you tried a little too hard to involve the guest in your role. “Why, the power is out! Whatever shall we do?”

“Oh shit, that’s not good…” Sam murmured, “I can try fiddling around if you’ve got a fuse box somewhere. I’m alright with that kinda thing.”

“Follow me to the garage then,” Kenjaku improvised. Technically it was a believable lie that you had gotten the tourist involved in, allowing for him to be momentarily distracted with a task rather than thinking too much about what could happen next.

So maybe your role could be to lure in strangers and keep them sufficiently distracted.

It was easier to trust a couple than to trust a lone man, after all.

Whacking him over the head with a brick he had kept over a defunct freezer, he cursed at himself internally, wondering if he accidentally caused the man to die too early on, but he seemed just fine. Just out of it, but still breathing. He stopped you from blindly following him in though, holding out his hand to prevent you from taking a single step further.

“You’re too eager,” he pointed out.

“Are you gonna do barbed wire bondage with this guy too?” you asked, staring down at the man.

“Not for this particular study,” Kenjaku shook his head, bending his knees to hoist the man up before laying him out on his back over a workbench. “I like the deaths to have meaning, so I’ll figure something out for this guy instead.”

“You sure about that?” you quipped. “You nearly killed me for no reason.”

He rolled his eyes in response to you, focusing more on the task of securing the man at hand. “You were an anomaly,” he murmured, pushing the man up against the wall and tying him to the slab, “a witness, even. You had to go.”

“Yeah and look where that got you,” you teased, almost.

He hummed, “Yeah. Look where that got me.”

“So…” you trailed off, “whatcha gonna do for this guy then?”

“In order to understand how I operate,” Kenjaku started to explain (even though you didn’t ask for this level of specifics), “you need to understand that every case I have is an opportunity to learn from the victim. In this instance, I want to learn more about the meaning people find behind their everyday lives.”

You nodded as you barely followed along, having no real clue what he was talking about. “I see, yes, I fully understand.”

“Funny,” he jabbed as his eyes narrowed at you. “The plan that I have in mind is trialling our friend here to see how he reacts to new experiences.”

“Now you’ve really lost me,” you admitted.

Kenjaku pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes for a second. “I never had your understanding to begin with, did I?”

“Not at all,” you quickly replied.

“Let’s say that this man’s meaning to life was to explore the world, to have new experiences,” he continued to try and explain his plan to you in terms you could keep up with, “what if I were to give him an end that challenged just that?”

“To give him a new experience?” you asked.

“Exactly,” he nodded, hoping that you finally got it.

“I suppose… that being targeted by a serial killer is a unique experience,” you considered, missing his point, “that’s a unique once in a lifetime experience, yes.”

He poked at your forehead in annoyance with just enough pressure to cause you to stumble back slightly. “Yeah, no. You’ve missed the point.”

“You are literally speaking in riddles,” you protested in complaint.

He sighed, feeling a headache coming on, “There is nothing cryptic about me saying that as a philosophical killer, that I want to give the man a death worthy of his existence.”

“So what about the woman you killed at the overpass?” you asked, still confused.

He shrugged. “The metaphor was that she was always tied up with something.”

“So what now…?” you asked, doing your very best to keep up, picking up an empty green glass bottle. “You’re gonna what? Play spin the bottle with this guy and make every turn a dare?”

“Real mature,” he replied, rolling his eyes at you again.

“What?” you asked. “It could work, alright? Start off real easy peasy, then dare him to drink something mysterious and tell him it’s for the road, but it’ll be something like bleach or something instead.”

He blinked at you as you laid out an idea to him with such an upbeat tone. “I’m sorry, who did I pick up exactly?”

“Someone with an overactive imagination?” you replied with a smile.

He hummed hesitantly, “Yeah, I can see that. Why bleach?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, “it’s a fatal liquid, I guess? Tell him it’s sake or something, clink a regular glass of water for some cheers and watch him die for a new experience at his own hand.”

He stared at you in silence for a good minute or two before settling into the idea. “Sure. Why ever not? Bleach you say?”

“Yes! … But is there bleach to begin with?” you asked, looking around.

“…Doesn’t seem to be,” he resigned. “But I do have gasoline I suppose, stay here while I go get that, will you?”

Albeit reluctantly, he left you in the company of the man as he stepped out for a moment. Both to search the trunk for the jerry can, but also to get some air. His initial idea was to just see how much pain he could get away with inflicting over the guy, but he admittedly liked your idea more. There was something especially psychologically unsettling about it, since it was based on a false sense of trust.

He definitely needed to find out more about you, just to be on the safer side. After today, he had a plan to drive to the other side of the country and check you both into a hotel. A cheap one. A place that wouldn’t ask too many questions as he figured out what to do with you.

Upon returning, he left the gasoline by the door of the garage and stepped back into the room. Sam now seemed to be awake and attempting to get up from the bench and to your credit, you seemed to be attempting to calm and soothe the man, even if it didn’t seem to be working at all.

“Sam, was it?” Kenjaku redirected the attention to himself, stopping the guy from fretting against you.

Pausing, the man struggled a bit harder. “What have you done to me, mate?”

“Nothing,” he lied, gesturing to the doorway, “you bumped your head on the pipe while entering.”

“That so?” Sam frowned, still squinting his eyes. “Then how come I’m tied up?”

“You had a head injury,” he replied, “I was going to ease you back into sitting up, let alone letting you walk around. Wouldn’t want you to injure yourself further, now would you?”

“I’m feeling fine though,” Sam protested, “so let me out will you?”

“Fine enough to have a drink to wash the pain away?” he gestured towards you as you held onto the empty bottle.

Sam’s eyes flicked down, misinterpreting it as you drinking from it earlier. For some reason he didn’t quite trust Kenjaku, but seemed to trust you. Was it because you looked kind enough? How foolish of him in a way, given that you were the one who suggested such a horrible thing.

“Yeah, alright then. Let’s have a go of it,” he agreed, settling into the idea.

“Feel free to untie him, I’ll prepare a bottle,” he murmured to you.

Stepping outside for a moment, he quickly filled the bottle with gasoline. The problem with this little plan was that the damn stuff smelled quite strong. However, Sam, despite his reluctance, seemed to find trust in you. Maybe he could be manipulated if you played your part right. Certain illnesses could manifest from traumatic brain injuries such as parosmia; the condition that altered one’s sense of smell and taste.

The causes weren’t always linear, so he could play it off as the result of a concussion. It was a heavy hit after all and neurological side effects were not uncommon after such a thing.

Bringing the bottle back, he held it out to him, hoping that you’d follow his lead in gaslighting the guy in the very likely case that he sniffed that something was up.

Sam was quick to notice of course, taking a quick whiff of the open bottle before dry heaving. “This a sick joke?”

“Pardon?” Kenjaku asked, feigning innocence.

“Smells like motor oil,” the man hissed, shoving the bottle away from his face.

“Odd, it doesn’t smell that way to me. Just like regular old sake,” he said as he took the bottle back, sniffing it and masking his impression, before giving it to you.

He watched as you smelled the bottle too, your nose souring a little bit. “That smells like… alcohol, alright.”

“You’re both messing with me right?” the hitchhiker warily asked, his brows furrowing.

Kenjaku could only hum in a quizzical tone, shrugging. “It was quite the head injury, it might be a concussion that’s causing your strange aversion to smells? Of course though,” he paused, abandoning the plan for now, “if you’re not feeling right, then maybe you shouldn’t be drinking alcohol.”

Just before Sam was able to form a response however, he watched as you pushed yourself off of the bench, picking up a jar and handing it over to him some sort of clear liquid inside.

“Water?” you asked him, holding up the jar. “I had a few sips already but…”

“Yeah, alright,” Sam replied, trustingly taking the jar before giving Kenjaku a wary look, “might be better than gasoline booze.”

However, just as the man chugged down the supposed ‘water’, he dropped the now empty jar, realising that something was terribly wrong.

Kenjaku watched with a narrowed stare as the man grasped desperately at his throat and stumbled forward, his knees taking a splintering impact as he dropped down to the floor. Sam attempted to choke out words as his face grew quickly red and his eyes turned bloodshot but no coherent words followed.

It was admittedly a disturbing sight he thought, especially with the noises that could escape the guy’s lips, with nothing more than rolling groans that soon turned to pained growls.

“What did you give him?” Kenjaku asked as he took a step forward, gesturing at the now shattered jar.

“I’m unsure,” you replied, “I found it earlier while you were gone and just went with it.”

“I…I see,” he replied, watching the man continue to suffer.

Crouching down to inspect the spilled liquid, he took a tissue from his pocket and dabbed at the contents. It was an odourless substance it seemed, which meant that it was likely an acid of some kind. Given the location you found it in, it could have been battery acid or something similar, but then again, why would it be in an inconspicuous glass jar…?

Not sinking too much thought into the idea, he picked himself up from the ground and stared at the now trembling man. He supposed that the case could be considered fulfilled.

Sam, the tourist, who was cautious when met with him specifically meaning that the guy likely didn’t openly trust other men. However, when met with you, he adopted a false sense of blind trust. A bit of a disappointing case, he thought, but not every case study had to be fulfilling.

Some cases were just like that; lacking. He couldn’t help but think that this was a strangely gruesome way to go, though. The man in question was still alive, but the damage done to him internally was definitely fatal. The outer skin on his lips seemed to corrode from the touch of the liquid, leaving behind a bleached patch on his clammy flesh.

It was very likely that the acid was leaving behind a similar path of decaying destruction throughout his body, so he was as good as dead.

“I guess we’re done here,” he murmured, taking a knife out from his pocket, ready to whittle away at any obvious identifiers. “Feel free to look away if you want. You’re already an accomplice, so I’m content with finishing up the dirty work myself.”

“Is he dead…?” you asked, staring at the still man.

“Not yet,” he corrected you. “Possibly unconscious, but he very likely won’t be dead until at least a couple of hours have passed. It can take up to ten hours after ingesting acid to die, but I’d like to get back on the road sooner if I can help it, so I’m hurrying some parts up.”

You nodded, finding his knowledge about how the human body reacts to poison or similar substances to be quite interesting, leaving you to wonder what sort of life this man led before getting involved in something like this.

“Okay, I’ll wait in the hallway,” you replied, stepping outside.

Kenjaku watched as you closed the garage door, trusting you to not be foolish and to run away. Redirecting his sights towards the man again, he gritted his teeth as he took the precautions to remove his fingernails and teeth, leaving behind an empty bottle of booze in the guy’s hands as a symbolic measure.

“How’s that for new experiences,” he muttered, before feeling around with a tissue to grab the man’s wallet from his pocket, quickly returning back to you.

He kept quiet as he fetched a small metal box from the boot of his car, throwing in the discarded matter and tissues inside. You didn’t offer a single word of input, except for a slight gagging gesture when you realised exactly what he was depositing.

Quickly rinsing his hands with a bottle of water that he also kept in the back, he motioned for you to enter the car again before firing up the engine once more.

“Going a bit further this time,” Kenjaku announced to you, “let’s say across the country.”

“I guess that makes sense…” you replied, figuring that he had raked up a few numbers in this particular region.

Just a second later, your phone vibrated which made him pause for a moment, prompting him to stop the car. He then grabbed the device directly out of your pocket, glancing it over.

“You said you had a cop boyfriend, right?” he speculated, turning off the phone.

“Yes…?” you replied. “I guess so?”

He sighed, chucking it out of the window before starting up the car to run it over a couple of times with the car.

“Hey—“ you protested, barely having any time to react.

“—quiet,” he hushed you, “I’ll get you a new one if you really want. I’d just prefer not to have a corrupt cop on my tail. The guy probably has some sort of tracker installed for you.”

“I-I don’t think he does—“ you attempted to deflect.

“—oh really?” Kenjaku sassed a little, glancing at you with a resigned expression. “He should. I know I would, considering just how slippery you are. Just look at you, up to no good with someone you have no business being in the company of.”

You sighed, “Okay, I see your point.”

“Good,” he acknowledged. “You’re in an odd situation, you know. Now please, be quiet. This old shit box hasn’t got a GPS, so I actually have to pay attention to where I’m going.”

You shrugged it off, watching the rest of the house slowly disappear from your sights as the car ate up the distance. Inn a way, couldn’t help but think this just added more weight to the trail that you were both leaving behind.

You tried to relax in the passenger seat, occasionally thrown off by his constant muttering as he missed very obvious signs to roads to get him back onto the main road.

“Just pull over somewhere and sleep already before we both crash or something,” you complained, tired of looping in circles.

Yawning, Kenjaku groaned in protest, attempting to rub the sleep off of his eyes, “Y’might be right,” he slurred, pulling off into the side of the road, tucking the vehicle into a nearby rest point at a gas station, “just don’t wander off too far, I’ll find you if you do and it won’t be pretty.”

“Relax,” you poked back, feeling tired as well. The whole experience being mentally taxing. “I won’t go anywhere.”

“Better not…” he trailed off, finally succumbing to much needed sleep as he leaned back in his seat, meaning every last implication of his warning, because if he was being completely honest, he didn’t want to let you go anymore.