Exposure

There I was, yet again a prisoner of my own private universe. This time, however, it felt different from when I sensed that my soul had been captured by the camera — it was as if my wandering spirit had been confined within the photograph itself. A photograph, incidentally, that I was yet to see. As I pondered, I also recalled the events that had just transpired. I, Akito Itabashi, was just decapitated by a self-proclaimed cadaver named Braz Cubas. Moreover, I remained conscious for a few seconds after being decapitated, and was now here, in the odorless, colorless, tasteless, and unpalatable void of non-existence. Regardless of how much a modern human is willing to suspend their disbelief, due to their near-daily exposure to a multitude of fantasy and fiction works... None of this, even remotely, resembled the comic book I had just purchased at the bookstore earlier. The whole world is aware that the supernatural exists, but modern science denies it with all its might, relegating it to mere coincidence, madness, and fairy tale novels. As someone from a country where religious practice is free and diverse, I do not consider myself particularly skeptical, but seriously believing in Braz Cubas would be asking too much from me. A tall, well-mannered cadaverous man, dressed in white, carrying a phosphorescent cane... He couldn't actually be a walking corpse, could he? I continued to validate my own existence through thought, though that was taking me nowhere. I remained in the abyss — the dark, inhospitable void in which I resided then, for the second time that day. Suddenly, however, my non-existence was faced with a faint, yet deep sound — a voice.

“Hey. Wake up…”, it said to me — a male’s voice, not as deep as Braz Cubas’, in a friendly tone, and almost as if complaining over my sleeping self.

It was not, however, sleepiness that overtook me — it was, quite simply, the state of death. I was under the impression that I'd be going to some sort of paradise, or at least some sort of purgatory. Instead, I had been wandering aimlessly until I heard that voice. I reasoned, however, that if I still had ears, it meant I was in a condition other than death. Hearing, in itself, is a sensory function of the body, not a faculty of the soul. The conclusion, then, was that I still had a body — a physical one. I attempted to open my eyes and, to my surprise, I was met with a ceiling, the ceiling of an old building, cream-colored and with wooden details. Based on the lighting, it seemed to be dusk, nearing nightfall. I didn't think that was possible, until I considered what I was coming back from. For a moment, I doubted whether the afterlife's existential plane could possibly consist of a tight suburban house from the Shōwa era. I got up and turned to the side, coming face to face to a bearded man with jet-black hair, carefully tied back in a samurai bun. His clothes were like those of a businessman — a cream-colored jacket, blue tie, white button-down, and black slacks. What stood out most, however, were his sunglasses, worn even while indoors.

“Ah, you’re finally awake”, he faced me. “My protégé. Did any nice dreams get you?”, he asked, politely seated over the light-colored wooden floor.

Honestly, I couldn’t react. This man seemed to be a perfect balance between divine and devilish, despite the devilish part being mostly due to the whole indoor sunglasses thing he had going on.

“This place is…”, I murmured, having just awakened with the worst crick in my neck one could ever conceive.

“My home, young one”, he replied, calmly, as he opened his arms wide, almost as if inviting me to explore the surroundings.

“And you are?”, I asked.

“I have many names, but you may call me Akashi. Akashi Asami”, he introduced himself. “Although… It’s usually polite to introduce oneself before asking for others to do the same, don’t you agree?”, he asked me, smirking about it. “Or, maybe, your memory is still a little hazy regarding Mr. Cubas. Is that the case?”, he bombarded me with another question, and this one frightened me.

Upon him mentioning Braz Cubas’ name, a deadly chill came down my spine, and I swallowed hard before responding to his little tease.

“Akito… Itabashi”, I muttered.

“Itabashi? How interesting… You have got yourself a nice name, young one”, he replied, still calling me by something other than my name.

“Mr. Asami… Who is Braz Cubas? And… What is going on with me? Do you know?”, I couldn’t hold the questions in any longer.

“Straight to the point, eh? You’d better take a seat… First, because you might still lose your head. Can’t tell how well-attached it is. Second, to hear a tale, it’s customary to be sitting down”, he explained, as he gently placed his hands on his knees and adjusted his sitting posture. “Cubas is a Dry Corpse. Have you ever heard of it? A cadaver, rejected by God and the Devil alike. Then, after his burial, rejected by the Earth itself. No worm wants a piece of him, and his body is so selfish that it rejects putrefaction. That’s how we get to what you saw”, Akashi explained.

“Oh, come on. Fairytales are for sleeping to, not waking up to”, I ridiculed his telltale, but soon realized he had a very severe face on.

“No, young one. I tell only the truth. The whole world is aware of magic, yet most refuse to see. You, on the other hand, might just have seen too much already”, he elaborated.

“What could you possibly mean by that?”, I questioned him further.

“You got your picture taken… Didn’t you?”, he moved on to questioning me, all of a sudden.

“Yes…”, I confessed.

“That camera… It is also an apparition”, he told me.

“Apparition?”, I didn’t get it at first.

“Apparitions, monsters, legends, myth, yōkai. There are many names, across many cultures, to the so-called supernatural. I call them apparitions, as soon as they appear before me”, Akashi explained.

I swallowed hard, once again, as I realized Braz Cubas would be in the same category as the camera that photographed me.

“Tales tell of Basil Halberd, inventor of the magical camera, in one of his many strikes of inspiration towards achieving true immortality. All your suffering will be redirected to the picture that the camera spat out, including the passage of time itself”, he continued to explain, and my brain was almost fried at that point. Yet, I had no choice but to sit through it.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me”, disbelief was a strong reason for the attention I did manage to exhibit.

“However, the spell is undone if you look at the picture. All the suffering will be immediately given to your body. Right now… You’d get beheaded again, and die for real this time”, he imagined. “On the other hand, if the picture gets destroyed, you’ll just lose the powers, but no harm will befall you”, he then calmly elaborated.

“Wait, but…", I thought and thought, my brain doing miles a second.

“Well, my protégé… Cubas took the camera from you, but it’s useless to him as of right now. The photograph wasn’t on you, was it? Otherwise, I doubt you’d have had time to regenerate”, he smirked as he got up to stretch his legs. “I’d watch out if I were you. He might be going after the picture this very instant —”, he warned me, and I promptly interrupted.

I got up and dashed off, making good use of the fact that the rain had stopped. The pleasant petrichor flooded my nostrils, but I didn't have enough time to enjoy it. Akashi came after me, occasionally popping up in my field of vision in various places. First, standing on top of a bench, then hanging from a pole, and then upside down in a windowstill... I could sense it, he's fast. Surreally fast. Inhumanely so. The Sun was already gone from the sky by the time I had finished talking to him, and now a faint, dark-blue tone painted across the sky. I ran as fast as I could, panting, thinking only of Rio's safety. After all, if Braz Cubas was after the photograph, he'd be after her, too. At that point, I didn't even consider the possibility of feeling embarrassed about running straight to her house. Did I even know where she lived? No, but I vaguely knew the direction, and I could ask around her neighborhood. It was a long walk, even at my running pace. I might have had to take the subway, but none of that mattered — only her safety mattered.

“You know, my protégé… Your little suicide adventure is bound to failure. What are you even doing once you get there? Taking away the picture from whatever girl has it, refusing to elaborate, and then letting Cubas kill you off for good?”, he inquired, with a pinch of irony, now sitting lax on a bench at the beach. The streetlights all seemed to point to him, and his skin reflected all the light. For an instant, it looked like he was made out of glass. Then, I realized: his skin was almost as pale as Braz Cubas’. I swallowed hard, yet again, and stopped running away.

“How do you know?”, I asked, boiling in deep rage. “How do you know it’s a girl?”, I repeated myself.

“It’s clear as moonlight, young one. Kids your age don’t go and excite themselves like that for any other reason. I do apologize, if I’m wrong, though”, he said.

“You’re… Not. That’s the problem, you’re not wrong”, I replied, with a closed first and grinding my teeth.

“Oi, oi. Don’t get mad at me, young one. I was the one dragging your head across the streets, pulling on your hair, among the many other things I had to do in my day”, he explained, getting up and walking towards me with a serious look on his face. “Can’t you understand? How dangerous is it for my kind to walk outside in the middle of the day, Akito?”, he asked, threatening me with his piercing gaze after having pulled his sunglasses down.

Below the sunglasses, he had been hiding extraordinarily clear, light-blue eyes. So clear, in fact, that they looked made out of glass, like the rest of him, reflecting what little light there was to reflect in the night. His teeth shone as well, and I took notice of their pointy shapes.

“You are…”, I began talking, ready to accuse him.

“Correct. You’re quite perceptive, aren’t you? Maybe not, since most other apparitions would have run away as soon as they realized, yet you stopped instead”, he laughed at me and my behavior. “Amongst apparitions, I am the monarch of night. Immortal, invincible, indestructible, and ever-death-returning…”, he continued.

“A vampire”, I finished.

“Correct”, he spelled out, approaching me even more. “And you, young one, in spite of your immortality… You still retain all traits of your humanity”, he pointed out, grabbing me by the jacket. “Including, but not limited to… Human blood”, he smacked his lips in anticipation.

I immediately stepped back, terrified, and pushed his hand away. Not one step back, but a few— until I fell to the ground on my back.

“Yet, I’m not here to threaten you, no. No, my protégé. Not at all. My sense of nobility wouldn’t allow me to perform such inhumanities to as prestigious an apparition as yourself. You’re not about to become my infinite blood bag. Not without trade”, he smiled in contempt, still approaching as I crawled away.

“What I desire… Is a contract”, he said.

Contract

noun

1: a binding agreement between two or more persons or parties, especially

a: a legally enforceable agreement between two or more parties that creates in each a duty to do something and a right to performance of the other's duty or a remedy for the breach of the other's duty

b : a business arrangement for the supply of goods or services at a fixed price make parts on contract

c : the act of marriage or an agreement to marry

2 : a document describing the terms of a contract.

3 : the final bid to win a specified number of tricks in bridge

4 : an order or arrangement for a hired assassin to kill someone.

A contract with a vampire — a deal which, if I were to gamble a hundred times on whether I would ever strike one in my lifetime, I would have gambled a hundred times in the favor of anything else. I fought the fear to breathe in his presence, barely hearing what he was saying— my heart was just that loud in my chest. Every inch of my body urged me to run away, even faster than it might have been possible to.

“You help me get rid of Mr. Cubas’ stinky, void, putrid, gross little self. Devoid even of blood or soul for me to snack on. You will offer me blood as I need it, and aid me in battle. On the other hand, I’ll eliminate him for you, preferably before he gets to your little girlfriend. How’s that sound?”, he asked me, putting his hand out for me to grab, as if he wanted to help me get off the ground.

Those were relatively simple terms, a contract of mutual benefit. I would relegate myself to the role of an extra pair of hands, and an endless blood bag— that is, assuming that everything Akashi Asami had said was true. I fell silent for a few seconds and, during that time, I couldn't stop thinking: I was letting myself get carried away. My love for the fantastic and extraordinary, the boredom that comes with everyday life, and the desperation to experience something unique, singular, and otherwise impossible — all of these things had worked together to cloud my judgment.

First, I considered the possibility of it all being a dream. Yes, that was the most likely scenario. If I assumed that, in fact, I was still lying in my bed, the blackout curtains closed, and this was all nothing more than simple fantasy... The meaning lied in the lack of meaning. There is no purpose. It's all a dream. I would, eventually, wake up, and all of this would be forgotten in the deep sea of my subconscious.

Next, I contemplated the idea of having actually been murdered for an old camera, or that, perhaps, I had simply been robbed and killed, and this was all nothing more than my last breath. It would then be an attempt from my brain, as it exhausts all available organic resources, to keep me in peace as I face my inevitable demise. As in the previous assumption, there was no purpose, since the ending was already determined.

In third position, I considered whether this might be the true afterlife. In this hypothesis, I would have been incarnated in a fantasy world, full of fantastic creatures, and would be the protagonist of a noble and romantic mission. This world would then be parallel to my original one, and the purpose would have to be found by continuing this insane narrative of life, death, immortality and heroism.

Then I wondered, quietly, if it was even possible for vampires, dry corpses, and magic cameras to have existed all along, so neatly off-sight that I never had to worry about them until now.

At that moment, I recalled my conversation with Rio. “Before doesn’t matter, because the observer isn’t an observer before making an observation”. In other words, I had become an observer of this hidden truth of the world in which I had always lived, and it only happened after observing it — thus, after being first photographed by the magical camera.

It's like when you buy a new car — from that moment on, you begin to recognize the car and you see it everywhere on the streets. You wonder, then, if everyone in the city had the idea of buying that same car at the same time as you, but that assumption couldn't be further from the truth. Your eyes were simply opened to the truth: several people already had that car — you just couldn't see it before, because you weren't an observer of that truth.

So, maybe, I just didn't know the truth behind this world, simply because I had never observed it. Based on this assumption, it is clear that this is now my world. I am no longer on the side of humans, I am on the side of apparitions, and there is no turning back. Either that, or I really am just dreaming, and I will wake up at home, on my bed, at this story's end.

Still, for now, there is only one truth: Braz Cubas tried to murder me, and Akashi Asami dragged my head around until I regenerated, and Rio Igarashi has the photograph, which Cubas seeks to destroy.

“I need to ask you something first”, I stated, still trying to find the courage to answer Akashi’s offer.

“Ask away, my protégé”, he replied, smug.

“Braz Cubas needs to destroy my photograph to make the camera work again. Is that statement true?", I asked him, recalling how my attempts at photographing Rio had failed.

“That's right”, he promptly confirmed.

“And what happens if he destroys my photograph and uses the camera on himself?", I continued.

“Oh, that's right... You ran away before I got to that part", he scratched his head. “Weren't you even a little bit curious as to why Braz Cubas was rejected by God, the Devil, and the Earth itself?", he asked me.

I confess, though, that I didn't think about it, not even for a moment.

“For the same reason he decapitated you, before even asking if you would willingly give him the camera", Akashi explained. "He is a vile, immoral being, but also insignificant, small, unworthy. His villainy took him from Heaven, his insignificance was pitied by Hell. Earth, in turn, sensed his selfishness, and also refused to embrace him", he continued.

“If it were that simple, any petty aristocrat would be rejected by all three and become a living corpse", I retorted.

“That is the most fascinating thing about Mr. Cubas, my protégé. He dedicated his will to the first worm that gnawed upon his flesh, and the worms were disgusted by such pettiness", he continued. "He is already immortal, but he has immense difficulty regenerating, unlike you. About a hundred years ago, I fought him, dismembered him, and buried him. To my surprise, every time the Earth rejects him, he comes back a little stronger", he elaborated.

“And why would you need me? I'm practically a newborn apparition?", I argued.

“You may have been born with a silver spoon in your mouth, young one, but make no mistake. It's not every day that an immortal is created, let alone one with a healing factor as powerful as ours. We are topping the apparition food chain, as is Cubas.",

“I see...”, I was forced to understand.

“That said, even though it takes him a hundred years to heal from complete dismemberment, it's not that easy to hurt him in the first place. He rejects everything, including the blows of unsuspecting adversaries. He doesn't heal, but he is near-invulnerable, something neither of us is”, he added. “Which means that... If he manages to photograph himself with the camera, he will be immortal, invulnerable, and unstoppable".

“He would be truly invincible", I concluded.

“At that point, he might as well name himself emperor of the world. Either that, or he will destroy it without a second thought", Akashi remarked.

I couldn't avoid letting out a sigh. Then, I reached out my hand to him, letting him pull me up until I stood on my feet. I was tired of talking while sitting on the sidewalk.

“All right, Akashi. Help me protect Rio, and I'll help you become the worm that will first gnaw at Cubas' flesh", I spoke my mind.

“I knew it would be in your best interest, my protégé. Two immortals versus one, it's certainly an easier fight than if you were alone, isn't it?", he asked, jokingly, while patting my back— and my butt— to cleanse the dirt I had acquired as I first hit the pavement. Finally, he laughed. He laughed so loudly he practically howled.

“First of all, partner...", he was saying. “You need to get used to dying", then concluded, after a brief pause to take in the night's cool air.

“What?", I asked, taken by surprise.

“Try and stay awake, okay?", he said softly, kindness in his eyes, but also bearing a deadly edge as he approached me again.

Akashi Asami struck me with his bare hands. Like razors, they tore my skin apart. I couldn't find the right words in my mind to describe the feeling of my skin being torn — it was quite different from a regular old cut. A cut is clean, with little to no friction. A tear is not; it's more like feeling someone pulling on my entire body and dragging all that force into a single line. It hurt immeasurably more. I couldn't help but scream my lungs out.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH —", I roared. When I tried to breathe, my lungs did nothing. How could they? Destroyed and ejected from my torso, along with the bones of my rib cage and an unimaginable sea of blood.

Pain. Falling. Eyes gazing at the starry night sky. The dusking sky blended with the darkening of my vision, and soon I could no longer distinguish the constellations. Akashi grabbed me by the collar of my jacket and forced me to stand up. It still hurt. Feet on the ground, legs weak. Everything went black. A familiar feeling, as if I were still asleep in my room, with my beloved blackout curtains.