Seed Of Despair

During a dull art theory class, Takamura Keisuke’s mind wasn't on color wheels or perspective—it was fixated on the girl sitting next to him: Iroha Akari.

Kei twirled a strand of his bangs. His black hair constantly slipped into his eyes—just like now.

People said he had “nice guy” looks, and he wore them with a soft, unthreatening smile. He held doors, blushed at compliments, and apologized like it was a reflex. He glanced at Akari.

She had long black hair and remarkable green eyes. Her soft, angelic face only added to her quiet elegance.

He casually doodled a portrait of her when he should have been paying attention.

He looked at her out of his peripheral vision; heat crept up his face. “I can do this,” he muttered to himself. But his heart pounded in his chest, and he couldn't stop fidgeting.

Kei grabbed his phone from his pocket and discreetly texted his two friends, Kai and Seto.

Kei: I'm doing it. No more friend zone. I'm asking her out!

Kai: Good luck. You’ll need it, Romeo.

Seto: Izakaya later? Maybe this time you’ll have something to celebrate.

Kei replied with a thumbs-up emoji. As he waited for class to end, he couldn't stop the butterflies in his stomach.

The moment the professor dismissed the class, Keisuke stood up and looked at Akari.

“Do you have a minute?” he asked, still fidgeting a little.

She nodded. “Sure, Kei. What’s up?”

Kei looked around, noting people were still leaving. “Can we talk... somewhere quieter?”

Akari blinked. “Okay. Sure.”

He led her to a quieter hallway. Facing her, he quickly gathered his nerves and asked,

“I was wondering if you'd like to go to dinner and a movie with me this weekend?”

Akari looked surprised. Her gaze dropped to the floor.

“I’m really sorry, Kei. You’re super sweet, but... you’re just not my type. I hope that’s okay? I think of you only as a friend.”

He forced a smile, but his hands trembled at his sides. “Of course. Thanks for hearing me out.”

She let out a long sigh and tried to look him in the eyes, but couldn't.

“I’m so sorry about this, Keisuke. I’ll see you around?”

“Sure, I’ll see you later, Akari.”

She turned and walked away, shoulders sagging.

Tears pricked the corners of his eyes, but he inhaled sharply and wiped them away.

Suddenly, he felt his nose running—blood was dripping toward the ground. Kei rushed off to the bathroom.

A few minutes passed, and it seemed to be slowing down. Then—an unnatural chill crept into the room.

He turned on the tap, cupped some water in his hands, and splashed it on his face.

Upon looking up, Kei froze. A robed figure stared back at him from the mirror—grinning with a twisted, inhuman smile. Blood, not water, had been splashed onto his face. Kei spun around. Nothing was there.

His heart thundered. He touched his face—just water. “The hell?” His eyes widened.

He pulled out his phone to text his friends.

Kei: Let’s get hammered tonight.

Seto: Again? Dude, you have the worst luck in the world.

Kai: Bro, you gotta stop getting friend zoned.

Keisuke put his phone away. He exhaled and opened his eyes.

“Must have been my imagination,” he said aloud, shaking like a leaf.

---

Four hours later:

Seto and Kai sat beside Keisuke at a bar. He hunched over his drink and stared at the counter, blank and unmoving as his eyes began to sting.

“Another one,” he grunted to the barkeep, struggling to keep his balance on the barstool. He let out a deep, long sigh, then a groan.

Seto let out a sigh of his own. “Come on, pal. You’ll find someone.” He placed a hand on Kei’s shoulder. Kei shrugged it off.

His head hit the bar with a gentle thud.

“Don’t waste your breath, Seto. I’ve heard it all,” he muttered, voice flat and drained.

Seto looked exasperated. Kai rolled his eyes.

“So what? Remember number thirteen? That bitch was ice cold.”

Seto chuckled. “Oh yeah. The fake tears. Then bam—she blocked you.”

Kei rolled his eyes. “Thanks for reminding me. Eighteen straight rejections. I must be completely unappealing to the opposite sex.”

He slumped further. His stomach tightened, his throat dry.

“No, dude. You're not. You're just really unlucky,” affirmed Seto.

“Yeah, getting shot down by every girl I've ever asked out or crushed on. I'm really unlucky. Maybe I should buy a lottery ticket.”

Kei grasped the handle of his beer and tipped it back. The entire glass slowly drained.

“Another,” he muttered, slamming the mug on the counter with a thud.

Seto shook his head. “Kei, you should slow down. Drinking this much is unhealthy, especially when you're feeling down.”

Kei groaned. “Why do you always... talk like my mom? Just... leave me alone. I'm gonna be alone for the rest of my life. I'm twenty and I haven't even kissed a girl. I'm such a damned loser.”

His vision blurred. His throat tightened. The sting behind his eyes built like pressure in a dam.

A slow trickle of blood crept from his nose.

Kei blinked. For a split second—he saw a pale rider on a black horse, still and silent.

He jammed a napkin into his nose. “What was that?” he thought as his heart pounded in his chest and his eyes widened.

Kai and Seto exchanged a look.

“Dude, are you okay?”

Kei looked away. “Don't worry about it.”

Seto looked at Kai, then back at Kei. “Come on, you're too drunk as is. Let's get you home.”

“I don't wanna go home. I'm not done yet,” he muttered.

“It's not up for negotiation. We're taking you home. I don't give a damn if you don't like it,” said Kai sternly.

They each picked a side and lifted him up.

Seto called an Uber. They escorted Kei outside and helped him into the car.

"I want to drink until I can't feel anymore,” said Kei, looking at the ground.

Seto let out a sigh. “Get some rest, pal.”

He tapped the roof of the Uber, and it drove off into the night.

---

The drive was slow. All Kei could think about was Akari. He couldn't wait until he got home so he could cry privately without feeling like less of a man.

Finally, the driver pulled up and opened the door. Kei stumbled out of the Uber and looked up at his apartment.

Something hung in the air tonight—too still, too quiet. Wrong. He felt a terrible foreboding in his heart.

He took the elevator to his floor, fumbling with his keys.

“Dammit.”

He finally got the door open and kicked off his shoes. He stumbled into the living room. Kei collapsed on the couch. Finally—he could cry.

A moment passed.

“I need more beer.” He got up and grabbed a beer from his fridge as tears flowed freely from his eyes. The light in the living room was flickering.

He popped off the cap, turned around—and his blood ran cold.

He dropped the beer. The glass shattered on impact.

The hooded figure from the bathroom stood in the center of the room, chanting.

Kei was being pulled closer to the figure by some sort of unnatural magical force.

Once he was in the middle of the room, the chanting grew louder. In a dark, horrifying tone, the figure chanted:

Figure: “Oh, hallowed be thy pact of death and blood. Despair shall swallow thee whole and turn thee into the shadow of death itself."

Kei's eyes widened and his lips quivered.

Figure: “Bones to bones, blood to blood, ashes to ashes. Despair shall become death incarnate. Awaken to the end of nigh, and become his hand of despair and sorrow.”

A terrible rumbling began. The ground rippled. His heart pounded, adrenaline spiking in his veins.

Blood seeped from the floor, warm and thick, swallowing his feet. Ritual bones spiraled outward, etched with strips of rotting flesh. Kei shook like a leaf in the wind. He tried to catch his breath, but he was hyperventilating.

This couldn’t be real. He tried to step back—but the blood held him fast.

Figure: “I summon thee, Lord of Death. Thou shalt carry his mark and serve forever, suffering eternally.”

Pain seared through his back. Something burned itself into his skin near his heart.

His flesh cracked. Horns began pushing out of his skull.

“Someone help me!” he screamed.

No one came.

The robed figure laughed.

Figure: “Serve him well, oh despaired one. Carry your seal well, it is your birthright.”

The floor gave way into a swirling pool of gore and bones. Kei screamed at the top of his lungs and flailed. Blood rose up his body, thick and unstoppable, pulling him under.

He sank into a tunnel of gore, where twisted faces clawed at him from the walls. His body dissolved. His soul was flayed open.

And then—stillness.

A voice cracked like thunder. A woman’s voice. Divine and authoritative.

Voice: “Stop. Not this one!”

A warm aura cradled him—soothing, gentle. It felt right.

Then, a brilliant light erupted in his chest. Kei gasped once—and everything went black.

---

Darkness consumed him. Visions of war, horror, and chaos plagued his mind.

He saw a pale rider on a black horse, reaping the land. Disease and famine ran wild.

Then, a soothing wave of reassurance came over him. He felt like he was floating through the air. A calm and gentle voice whispered,

“Rest well, sweet child.”

Some time passed. Then he heard her again:

Voice: “Awaken, young one.”

Kei’s eyes fluttered open.

The sun?

He abruptly sat up. He was in a vast wheat field. He patted himself down. His body was whole. He touched the soil. He started hyperventilating again. His eyes wide, his face contorted in panic as his heart pounded in his chest.

A burning sensation pierced his heart. He clutched it and struggled to remain conscious as he clenched his teeth.

A thrumming sensation in his head wouldn't dissipate. A narrow road wound through the golden wheat.

He looked around rapidly, dizziness nearly overtaking him.

“Where am I?” His voice shook and cracked.

Far off in the distance, a dark island floated in the sky—dreary, menacing, and wrong.

He realized he wasn't in Japan anymore.

Blood gushed out of his nose. The searing pain near his heart spread. Kei dropped to his knees. Tears leaked from his eyes, his hands covered his head.

“Where am I?” he cried.

Alone. Burning. A foreign sky above.

And despair—rising like a tide.