The Person Behind The Smile

Fukei’s pupils contracted and expanded wildly, like a balloon being repeatedly pumped in and squeezed out air. His hands and legs shivered, ready to fall at the slightest touch. His lungs desperately gasped for air, trying their damndest to send oxygen circulating his body.

The boy knew that he needed to think. Something. Anything. He needed to work his brain to the limits if he ever wanted to keep standing in front of these… things he called his acquaintances mere moments ago.

Questions started to echo in his mind. Louder and louder, to the point of mentally shouting to block out all of the other noises in his head.

Who is he? What did he do? What did they do to him? How did they manage to do that? And… that thing…

It was just for a split second, but Fukei had thought of it. That disgustingly processed smell that couldn’t hide the stench of raw, rotten meat. That oily, greasy glaze that ran over the pieces of meat, as well as lacing the children’s fingertips. Their elated expression each time they took a bite out of that monstrosity, laughing and joking around so much that bits of fat and flesh alike flew out of their mouths outside.

It was hard thinking about it in the first place, but once the first signs showed, memories came crashing onto Fukei like a flood. Memories that existed, and even those that were complete figments of his own imagination. But it didn’t matter – it felt real, and that was enough to trigger a reaction.

Immediately, the boy fell to his knees, all while feeling the gastric distress up to his nostrils. Soon enough, what had to come came flooding – a stream of constant fluids gushing from his mouth, yet even it didn’t manage to overwhelm the already dreadful stench of rotting flesh already in the room.

Before he could recover, however, Fukei had already found himself being grabbed by the hair and forcefully lifted upward. The perpetrator – the strongest of the bunch, Ichigo – was sticking his face close to him, all while wearing the same toothy grin that he had always shown from the start of their meeting:

“Heh? Fukei’s sick?” Ichigo asked.

“My, my, that won’t do!” Fuutarou answered, laughing hysterically like seeing a sick joke. “We can’t have anyone be sick on our watch!”

“Oh, oh, Miko can cure him!” The girl called Miko cheerily sounded. “All Fukei needs is just some Smiley candies! Wanna eat some Smiley candies, Fukei?”

Before Fukei could even notice, in the girl’s palm were already a few round, colorful pieces of confectionery. They looked perfectly normal at a glance, and they didn’t have any weird smell like the “jerky” they tried to give to him. But Fukei would have to be insane to be taking anything that these people gave him, especially after seeing what he had just witnessed.

Trying his best to avoid making eye contact towards the group, the boy shook his head:

“N-No, I’m fine, thank you. I’ll… need some fresh air.”

Without waiting for an answer, Fukei took a deep breath and ran out of the building as fast as his legs could give him.

I need to get out of here! He thought to himself. He needed to escape this place, and what happened afterwards could be thought about later. However, as soon as the cool breeze of the night hit the boy, he realized his chances were slimmer than ever.

The gate from before had already been shut tight, hanging in its center was a giant, almost comically large lock with an equally large key hole. As for the walls, they were already too high for a child to climb over, but whoever prepared this trap even went the extra mile to cover the top with barbed wires, truly sealing off all ways of escaping the premises.

Fukei’s eyes darkened with despair. But he wasn’t about to give up just yet.

His hand reached for his pocket. There was a brief sigh of relief – his phone was still there. But he couldn’t let himself be content for long.

Fukei’s fingers dashed on the phone screen, tapping with his life on the line to find the number that he needed. Naturally, he didn’t mean to call for Kageyama – if anything, the shady man was the last person that he wanted to call.

“Hello, Tokyo Metropolitan Police speaking,” the voice on the other side sounded.

“Hello? Please, I need…”

Before he could finish his sentence, however, a sudden burst of heat erupted beside his ear. Through the corner of his eyes, Fukei could see sparks flying in the air, along with a signature mix of sulfur and metal smell. From the brief light that the sparks enabled him to see, the boy could detect gleams of metal pieces flying along the way, in the color of what his phone was a second ago.

He didn’t even get to react, either. For a large hand patted, or rather, slapped him right on the shoulder in a show of domination. Along with it, another hand grabbed him by the head again and forcefully turned his neck around.

There, he saw it. The group had returned. Each of them was still wearing the same smile from ear to ear. But each of them was carrying a different item.

Ichigo was the one holding him down. Fuutarou held a still-smoking gun. Miko had a strange device in her hands, but looking at its disc-like antenna, it didn’t take a genius to figure out that it was some sort of signal jammer. Shirou had duct tape – even got himself covered in them, but the red-haired boy didn’t pay too much attention to it – and only Goh, the youngest, didn’t have anything.

“I’m sure you’d love to chat with your friends, Fukei, but there’s a rule here that says no cellphones after 6 PM,” Ichigo said.

“And since you broke the rules, we’re gonna have to punish you, so bear with it, okay?” Shirou added, tearing up some more duct tape straight from his arms.

“Hey hey!” All of a sudden, Goh raised his hand in glee. “Can I be the one to do it this time? I’ve always wanted to try!”

“Well, I do love a mind eager to learn!” Laughed Shirou, who promptly gave the duct tape to the boy. “Here you go!”

“Thanks a bunch, Shirou! Now go along, Fukei!” Goh laughed in response before kicking Fukei in the shin, causing the latter to wince in pain.

Nevertheless, Fukei still had to do what they said. As much of a fighter as he thought he was, even he was no match for the speed of a gun.

The two of them moved towards a corner of the yard, away from the rest of the group. It was easy to just knock over the child and make his escape, but Fukei thought better of it – mainly since he still hadn’t found an exit to the building yet.

But his prison warden didn’t seem like he would start the confinement any time soon. In fact, it was the opposite – as soon as the two disappeared from the other children’s sights, Goh quickly threw away the duct tape in his hand.

“Hey,” for the first time since they’d met, the boy was no longer smiling. His brows frowned while sweat poured on his forehead – a clear sign of pent-up stress.

“What are you doing?” Fukei asked.

“That was a risky move you just made,” Goh spat. “I know it’s shocking, but don’t go about with that, you hear me? I’ve been waiting ages to have someone sane in here too; we don’t have much time left, so listen up.”