#new chapter

You, on the other hand, were on the verge of falling asleep, but then again, who could blame you? With the events that had gone on in the past day, you were understandably exhausted, and even before, just moments ago when he was insistent on plotting something memorable, it was on a whim that you had even suggested such a thing at all. You knew deep down that he enjoyed it when you were unhinged; when you had odd or genuinely concerning ideas, so you threw that much out there to both quieten him down and to ground him. For some reason, him being overly sentimental over the end did not suit his personality, you thought, so you mostly just wished to steer further away from that.

Just to retain what was left of your sanity more than anything else.

Kenjaku glanced to his side to take a good, deep look at you, as if sensing your unease, taking the hint. His tongue clicked against the side of his mouth in disappointment, not at you directly, but because you weren’t reacting the way he imagined you would in his head. Ideally, you would have been over the moon; just as excited as he was, but of course, you were tired. He understood that much, but he didn’t feel any better about it, because if you were only tagging along because he was forcing you to do so, then that was a bitter pill to swallow. He wanted you present; he wanted you to want to see this through because you wanted to do something so outrageous, so unforgettable that it was almost silly in its absurdity. But no; today had taken something out of you, and that much should have been more than fine, but something in his mind wouldn’t let him hang up on it.

With a heavy sigh, he settled on getting through tonight, understanding that the grand finale had to happen tomorrow, not today. “Don’t worry,” he started, his voice low and just as tired, though somehow far more erratic, “I’ll get us a room, and we can continue onwards when we’re fully rested.”

You blinked at him, letting out a long yawn at his words. “Yeah? Do you even have enough money for that? These cutesy places don’t run cheap,” you jokingly replied, trying to ease the mood into something casual again.

Kenjaku met you with a small scoff. “Well no, not anymore,” he admitted, having burned off most of the cash he did keep on him while he was out experiencing life with you, “but that hardly matters; we’ll need someone for our project anyway.”

Another yawn slipped from you as you tried to keep up with his vague answer. “Wait, you’re going to subject the hotel receptionist to that? Damn. I thought you were going to be a bit more picky with this, considering it’s something so special.”

Kenjaku shrugged, casting you a glance from the side once more before blinking back towards the window, looking out at the night ahead. “Well, out here, there’s not going to be many people to begin with, so they’re selected largely for convenience,” he replied. “I’d love to be able to just check in and hunt around the building for the perfect victim, but I highly doubt that if we left the guy downstairs alive and he started hearing all sorts of odd, worrying noises, that he’d just let us carry on. No, we might as well take him out first.”

You sighed softly at his response, resigning yourself to the idea. “Right.”

“Yeah, right,” he echoed your words, the delivery coming out as slow as he let out a sigh of his own, tipping his head back against the seat for a moment, settling his gaze over the roof of the car. “And look, I know you’re tired,” he added in a low mutter, “I’m tired too, but I want this to go as smoothly as possible. You can find a room you like, sleep in there, and I’ll handle the rest. Sound good?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you nodded along, forcing your tone into something agreeable and casual, so he’d knock off what you still thought was feigned care. “Just one thing.”

He hummed curiously. “Yes?”

“What if someone wants to check in through the night or even tomorrow, and nobody’s around? It’s peak season right now. It would be odd, that’s all,” you brought up, raising what you thought was a genuinely valid point.

Kenjaku considered your words, but ultimately shrugged off your concerns. “It’ll be fine,” he replied, deciding that it was a non-issue. “Maybe they can leave in a huff, thinking they were scammed, or maybe—” he caught himself, a creepy smile forming on his lips, “because I’m such a gentleman, I can redirect them back home, or check them in—forever.”

You let out a breathless laugh, sounding half amused, half not. “Yeah, I’m sure that’ll work out.”

“It will,” he was quick to insist, “so quit doubting me so much already,” he added, a hint of warning entering his tone. “You’ll get the rest you’re so desperate for, and then…” he trailed off, his eyes narrowing, turning his head to look at you directly, “and then, you’ll help me. Won’t you?”

You were about to reply, but his own paranoia caught up to him before you even had a chance to speak; his tone tightened at once, his words coming out as both manic and insistent, “Assuming you still want to go through with all this?” he asked, the threat in his voice loud and clear. “Like you promised.”

You gulped thickly, but forced out a laugh, hoping to mask your unease. “Yeah, obviously I’m gonna go through with it, you whiny diva.”

He paused at your jab. “Whiny diva?”

You hummed in confirmation, nodding your head, hoping he would ease up.

His hands flew up in an instant. “Well, that’s fair, I suppose,” he laughed, though the look he gave you was far from calm, reaching for your wrist next as he stretched out, gently at first, before tugging you so close to his side that your head pressed against his mouth. His voice lowered to a whisper that felt hot and wet against your ear, “You’re either all in, or not at all,” he breathed out.

You pulled back slightly, once again trying to shake him off, but this time you were unable to keep the nervousness out of your voice. “Y-yeah, I mean? Obviously—obviously I’m all in. I mean, hello? Look at where I am and who I’m with and what I’ve been up to for the better part of the year—there’s no going back from this. No way, right?”

Kenjaku pulled back to stare you down for a good, solid minute before letting go of you altogether, suddenly dropping the serious act from something bothered to something bright and jovial.

“Right!” he beamed. “Great!” he barked out next, reaching to pull against the car door with a searching hand, elbowing it open and stumbling out of the driver’s seat, striding around the vehicle with a marching gait.

You remained frozen solid as he did, tracking him in the dark with wide, uncertain eyes, squaring your shoulders as he moved around where you sat. A startled gasp left your lips as he pulled open the door at your side, even if you knew it was coming, allowing the cool droplets of the night rain to fall on your skin. It was never a good sign when he was like this, but you had no choice other than to follow along, so when you grabbed you out of your seat, practically pulling you to your feet, you didn’t resist as you fell right into his arms, keeping deathly still as your face pressed into his chest.

“K-Ken—” you started, only for him to clasp around the back of your head, hushing your protests by pushing you further into himself.

“It’s fine,” he smiled, his fingers curling around your scalp just a little too tight. “You’ll sleep, yes?” he asked, pulling back just a little to blink down and make eye contact with you.

You blinked up and slowly nodded. “Yes…?”

“Great!” he erupted once more. “Sleep then, right before it all has to end, right before it all has to—” he found himself stopping just as fast, the words he exclaimed left hanging in the air, and the grip he had around your head clenching to an almost unbearable degree, before forcing himself to take a long, calming breath. He knew he was acting scary—even for you. He knew that he was acting unstable—which was bad, technically, because it made him less careful. He was just so obsessed in the heat of the moment; perhaps with the direction of your idea, or the plan needing to be perfect, or from doing something so extraordinary with you at all—that he was starting to forget himself again.

It had gone right, after all, because what good was the future memory he was chasing after otherwise?

You slowly extracted yourself from him as soon as you were able to, leaving you both standing in the cold, damp darkness.

“Sorry,” he finally said, not following up much after that, taking a step back and reaching for your hand, intertwining both of your fingers together, before making a start for the bed and breakfast waiting up ahead.

When you reached the inside, you stood at the desk just as he did, but jolted from the moment he started to slap the bell, generating a loud, jarring sound over and over, his eyes wild and fixed on a doorway that seemed to lead to a staff-only area towards the back. He knew the clerk was around at the very least; he saw movement before.

Someone came on through eventually, but they sure did take their sweet time. A man around your age emerged from the entryway, looking startled as soon as his eyes settled on you both. Initially, he was muttering something about his parents ‘really leaving him alone in the summer for their retirement’, cursing under his breath, before he simply stopped. Did the two of you give him that bad of a feeling? You supposed that some people just had a good intuition about these sorts of things. You watched a bit more intently as the man took a wary step back, before forcing himself to take a step forward, perhaps the reluctant politeness winning out over his clear unease.

“Some weather, huh?” he started with, rather than asking the two of you what you wanted, his eyes going anywhere but making contact with Kenjaku, who was at this point awfully quiet, staring at the guy with a quiet smile.

Neither of you responded.

A nervous, breathless laugh left him from the silence that gathered, before he tried to force a semblance of composure. “Look, man, my folks aren’t around, so any reservations had to be made around spring,” he tried to lead with a lie. “The rooms aren’t ready for—”

“Oh, that’s fine,” Kenjaku replied with an even wider smile, coming to lean over the front desk by pushing forward with his elbows, resting his chin against his palms. “More than fine, in fact,” he added on a whim. “We were actually looking for something empty, as it turns out.”

“O-oh, I don’t mind,” the man stammered, keeping as far behind the desk as possible, “but there’s a lot of paperwork to get through, and—and—”

Kenjaku leaned back, ringing the bell on the desk once more, effectively silencing the guy’s nervous spiral, before fixing him with a calm, unsettling smile once more. “Oh no, paperwork,” he dramatically repeated. “Oh no, no, no…! Is that really so much of a problem?”

The clerk gulped thickly. “Not at all. How many… nights…?”

Kenjaku’s smile eased up slightly, his tone easing into something much more conversational. “Just the one, if you’d be so kind,” he replied, pulling you to his side to encourage you to play along with his lie, “as you can see, it’s just us here, on a honeymoon as it turns out,” he added, “we’re doing everything… spontaneously as part of our year of first. Now, ain’t that romantic?”

“Yeah, isn’t it just?” you followed up, though in a tired, flatter voice. “Going ‘round and ‘round the country. You really gonna turn us away in the dead of night?”

The man’s lips folded into his teeth as he blinked at you next, noticing the exhaustion on your face, sensing something not quite right.

“Really making me hit the road and tolerate this guy for god knows how many more hours?” you piled on. “That’s so cruel.”

“One night should be fine,” the clerk sighed, already backing away—

Only for Kenjaku to ring the bell once more. “Not so fast,” he caught him before he could get too far. “Why don’t you show us to our room first?”

The clerk gave a short, agitated but noticeably nervous laugh. “I’ll be back real quick. I just need to get the paperwork—”

Kenjaku, however, already had something much more immediately sinister in mind. “Oh, we can do all that later. It’s late, isn’t it? So what’s so wrong about showing us what kind of rooms there are first?”

As soon as the guy hesitated again, that damned bell rang again.

“R-right,” he blurted out, their whole frame growing stiff. “I’ll show you both around.”

“Great!” Kenjaku replied, sounding elated, pushing off of the front desk and clasping his hands together in pure approval. “After you,” he suggested, gesturing with a polite nod towards the stairs, already moving behind him as soon as he started up with unsteady steps.

He remained practically glued to the guy’s back as the young man nervously reached around their belt to fumble for the master key, and when he stepped on inside, ready to give a weak explanation over what sort of a room this was exactly, Kenjaku had already crossed the distance as you wearily started to shut the door, already knowing what to expect; clamping his hands around the man’s mouth as soon as he could, putting his neck into a headlock to quieten the struggle before pushing his face down into the surface of the mattress.

“So, how many people are staying?” Kenjaku asked calmly as soon as he had full control.

The man’s response came out as wet and muffled against the bed. “None—!”

Kenjaku, however, moved to position his elbow into the root of their neck, applying pressure that must have felt surely excruciating. “Are you telling the truth?”

“T-two,” the man admitted with a strained gasp, folding as soon as the pain gripped him. “A-A businessman, I think, and our caretaker, so if you can just—”

“Those keys from before,” Kenjaku cut in, moving on quickly as soon as he got the answer he wanted, “do they access every single room on this property?”

A garbled sound of agreement left the poor guy.

“Great,” Kenjaku beamed once more, removing his elbow from the man’s neck but keeping him right where he could see him. “So, here’s what’s going to happen,” he began, sounding awfully conversational. “You’re lucky enough to be… selected for something we’re calling a grand send off, so you’re going to live,” he promised, “for now,” he added just as quickly, “but given what we’re going to be up to will cause quite the bit of noise, we’ll need to keep you as quiet as possible for now,” he explained, pulling back slightly to catch a glimpse over what you were up to, narrowing his eyes slightly as you made yourself too at home as you helped yourself to what appeared to be complimentary chocolates on the dresser.

“What’s the plumbing arrangement?” Kenjaku moved on, turning away from you and focusing on the man again. “Showers? Bathtubs?”

“T-T-Tubs?” he replied in a shaky stammer.

Kenjaku smiled at that. “What kind? Ceramic? Fiberglass? Acrylic?”

“T-The first,” the man choked out. “Ceramic.”

“Oh! Kenjaku exclaimed. “How lucky for us, or should I say… you?” he redirected, his eyes glinting with something profoundly dark. “Footed? Fused to the floor?”

“Built in?” he gasped.

A slight frown anchored over Kenjaku’s lips immediately. “Less spectacular,” he muttered. “But, I suppose it shall make do for now,” he added quickly anyway, his smile returning to his lips, whipping his head back to check you over. “Hey. Any chance you know how to unseal a tub from tiles?”

You shrugged. “No? But I do remember that when Naoya and I had a bathroom refurbishment, the contractors pulled our toilets off by using some sort of chemical dissolvent? Maybe it would be the same for a tub?”

Kenjaku pursed his lips to the side. “You might be right. I suppose I’ll have to busy myself with that,” he sighed at the thought. “I’ll tie our little liability up and gather what’s needed, so keep them company, will you?”

You looked at him almost pleadingly. “Didn’t you say I can sleep?”

“I won’t be too long, and then you can sleep for as long as you need to,” he assured you. “Just cooperate with me for a few more hours, and then, I promise.”

You let out a defeated, long and drawn-out sigh at the idea of needing to be up for hours more, but nodded along, dragging yourself over to the unoccupied side of the bed, briefly making eye contact with the person still crushed to the bed, ignoring them just as quickly.

“Two more people, huh?” you murmured out, your eyes settling on the ceiling. “Whatcha gonna do?”

Kenjaku snorted through his nose, moving to keep the man flat under his knee instead as he reached to tear the bedding to craft makeshift bindings. “You know what I’m going to do,” he lowly murmured as he worked. “It’s not going to be pretty, but two more liabilities are what they are. They’ll run their mouth if they’re able to. It’s a pipe dream, really, if I could get them to wait it out in a locked room and then release them under a vow of silence after, but they’re going to have to go,” he explained, moving to wrap a torn strip of fabric around the clerk’s mouth, gagging them in the process, finishing up by tying their limbs together. “I’ll be back with something stronger, but if they start to struggle too much, just knock them out with anything heavy you can, or give me a shout,” he instructed you, nudging you slightly as you looked to be on the cusp of sleep. “Just if you go for the attack, not too hard—we’ll need him alive for later.”

“Gotcha,” you yawned out, forcing yourself to sit back up despite your exhaustion. “Just don’t blame me if I’m too sleepy to notice him making a run for it,” you added jokingly before correcting yourself, assuring him that you were present enough. “I’ll try, I mean. Just no promises.”

Kenjaku sighed for the time being with you, but supposed that your tired compliance was as good as he was going to get, given the sorry state you were in.

No matter, anyway, he would be quick:

He could hardly wait to see this whole thing through, after all.

~~~

Leaving you alone in the suite, Kenjaku quietly drifted off, keeping his footsteps quiet as he padded back down the stairs in search of maintenance equipment. If there was a caretaker around, then they had to have at least the bare minimum, and once downstairs, the layout of the bed and breakfast started to make a bit more sense in a residential way. He pieced together that this must have once been a regular old house that had since then been converted; upstairs, the hallways spanned in crooked, narrow paths. On the ground floor, however, behind the front desk was a living room of sorts fashioned into a staff room, and further up ahead seemed to be a door that led to a garage. Faint residual tyre tracks were rubbed onto the floor, and rusty gardening tools from another era sat in the corner, but sure enough, there were organised shelves labelled for things like clogs, bathroom cleaning, and the like.

But then, there was a slight creak along the floor as he rummaged for something that could work. Kenjaku was otherwise sorting through everything and anything he could use; from tools, from chemicals, from things he could use to set up the scene as perfectly as he imagined. Just one tub should be fine, he ended up concluding. Though your idea with stacking two tubs on top of each other was quite novel, it wasn’t too practical. One would do; something to cover the top of it over and then something to make a sound with as the screams of the person inside would be forced out. Beneath it all, something had to burn hot enough but not to set the person on fire right away; so perhaps if the tub itself balanced atop burning coal or firewood, it might be best. Maybe it could be filled with water, faintly, just to be boiled and create the effect of steam rising out of the tub, too. What a way to go, though. He found himself shuddering at your idea.

The creak happened again, and that time around, he noticed. It couldn’t have been you, because even if you did sometimes follow him too far for his own liking, you were far too tired to do so right this moment, given how tired you were. No. This was someone with a far slower gait—with heavier, raspier breathing. He considered the caretaker, and quietened down, reaching for the gardening tools in the corner before pressing himself against the wall near the entrance.

Standing with some hedge sheers, he waited with the blades drawn out, keeping his breathing as quiet as he could—largely to avoid both making a scene and also to lure the caretaker in with quiet ease—he prepared himself with surprising patience, despite his earlier instability, and when the man waltzed on inside, revealing an old man, half cursing something about a rat problem, Kenjaku was already at it. Quickly, he moved the shears to push against the man’s neck, walking the guy back up against the interior wall, closing the blades with all of his tired strength until blood erupted from around the sides, splattering him right in the face. The blades were worn—rusted around the edges, but he tried and tried—the edges creaking as he applied even more pressure, until the bones gave out, resulting in a dull, awful crack that forced the struggle into a limp slipping heap over the floor. A second after, the head rolled off the shears, landing with a wet thud right by his feet.

For a moment, Kenjaku considered whether the mess he made was even necessary. It was a moment too late that he pondered why he couldn’t have just quietly choked out the man. Was it because he wasn’t going to get his fill for a while, considering where he was going? Everything that had started from the museum had him acting wild; as if every waking second could very well be his last, so he was going out with everything he could, he supposed. If everything felt volatile and spontaneous and whatnot, then he could feel as if he still belonged to himself—

At the expense of others, if he had to suppose.

Though, as the rest of the next few minutes passed and as he caught his breath back, still heaving from the exhilaration of the moment, the reality of it all caught up again. The blood still seeping out of the man’s neck was foul and pungent, and not to mention the mess it made. The sounds of a struggle were loud, too, so it was without a doubt that he had likely woken up the only other guest in the vicinity.

If this was the maintenance guy, then who was left?

Oh. Yes. The businessman. In a way, though, it was strange, because why would a salaryman—supposedly—be this far away from the city? This far into the countryside? Other places with better transportation links existed left and right, but then again, if he were to remember the strain of work culture, maybe he too would have opted for somewhere as isolated as possible back in the day.

Kenjaku let out a deeper sigh as he dragged the components he had settled on to the foot of the stairs one by one regardless. He would deal with the blood later, if it bothered him. For now, he just wanted to dissolve the seal and separate the tub from the floor, subdue the man upstairs for long enough to not be a nuisance, and then somehow, drag that whole contraption down and outside because what good was something so outrageous if it was hidden away from the world?

Just as he clanged around, however, the sounds of angered stomping finally emerged as a tired, disgruntled-looking man, wearing just a t-shirt and sweatpants, appeared over the top of the stairs.

“You’re kidding,” he seethed out flatly, his voice thick with sleep and anger. “I was told that this place would be empty. Empty—” he emphasised a second time. “Or at least that the guests are usually quiet.”

Kenjaku lifted his head, slowly blinking as headache number three supposedly showed up. He glanced down next at his reddened, stained hands, tucking them behind himself, fixing the man upstairs with a tight smile.

“Apologies,” Kenjaku replied, smoothing his voice into something deceptively sweet. “Just working on something downstairs. A necessary inspection, if you will,” he lied, already sensing that this man would have to be silenced permanently too. He knew guys like this. Guys with more temper than sense.

The guest in question looked down at the components that Kenjaku had gathered, forcing a heavy sigh to leave his lips as he fought to keep his composure in check. “Well, keep it down, will you?” he huffed, turning reluctantly polite, gripping the stair railings tightly to reel himself in. “I need a full night’s rest so I can rehearse for tomorrow.”

Kenjaku’s interest piqued instantly.

Was this a typical office-leaning businessman, or had fate led him to someone far more interesting instead?

“Rehearse?” he caught right away. “What for?” he asked, keeping the interest in his voice light, as if he were just making friendly conversation.

The guy sighed, trying to smile past his annoyance as if to not reflect poorly on himself. “For something that’s a pretty big deal, actually,” he admitted, almost bragging at the confession. “I finally, after so many years, finally—finally—landed a spot at one of the better concert halls in the country. Can you believe it? Of course I have to rehearse. I can’t mess this up.”

Kenjaku was practically shaking now.

Depending on the instrument, could this be the piece he needed? Not a tube—not a funnel—but an instrument that could bring together the whole show?

“I’ll be quiet,” he promised, already starting up the stairs, unable to stop himself. “What will you be playing?”

The man found himself backing off slightly, but he couldn’t keep himself from bragging.

“The trombone,” he replied, pushing his hands off the railing and ready to retire back into his suite.

Kenjaku let out a breath of delight at the answer, pausing for just a moment to compose himself at all, lest he reveal his excitement far too soon.

This was good, he thought. Oh. Almost too good.

It was as if he were exactly where he was supposed to be.