Where the hell am I?

No. No, I already know the answer to that. I’m standing in the rose garden of Rokkenjima. A rose garden that should no longer exist. I remember it. I remember it all. This can’t be real.

My head hurts. I was… reading something? No, I’d already… read something. The Strange Tale of… Wait a minute. No. No, I’d written that. With… Ikuko. And someone… put it up online? And translated it to English? And then I… Right, I… I was sharing or… or reading? Wait. Why would care about an English translation? It was incomplete, right? Why would I put it up like that?

My head hurts. I can’t make sense of it. What I was reading… seeing… posting? It wasn’t what we’d written. It was similar. The characters were all as we’d made them. No, no – not all of them. The stranger in the bed wasn’t there. And the… the plane crash. Where did that come from? The woman in the snow at the end there? What? And… Kokone didn’t die. Not that early. Not like that.

My heart hurts. I feel sick. Why can I feel my legs? I’m standing. I’m standing! This can’t be real.

No. This is… supposed to be… the real world, right?

It feels the most real.

This is where I’ve been this entire time.

My head hurts.

Everything feels shattered.

I can’t wake up.

“At least you acknowledge you’re not awake.” A voice speaks.

I look up.

Standing in front of me is a woman in a majestic pink kimono. Tall – taller than me. The droplets of rain almost seem to skew by her, too intimidated by her presence. Her face is stoic. Perfect. Solemn. Content. Amused.

Eternal.

“I… kuko?” I mutter.

The woman’s smile is enchanting. “I’m afraid not.”

“Where is… Ikuko?” I ask.

“My, my… You are, certainly, one of the most entertaining Readers I’ve ever had. Most coat the reality in layers upon layers of their own wants. You… You coated your very state of existence in fantasy, while changing almost nothing of the story itself. Well, besides all the skipping. But that was fair, enough. On the whole, truly fascinating. There were times you got so worked up I had to start trying to pull you out of the trance. I apologize if you… disliked my means of reaching through.”

“I can’t remember anything.”

“Sure you can. You remember the flight, do you not?”

I try to think. “Maybe. I—Wait. Yeah. Ikuko and I were… going somewhere. To meet someone. I… think?” No. Wait. Of course I remember. We were going to meet Ange for the first time. I was going to tell her… the truth. About myself. About her brother.

“What happened?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know! It’s… I remember getting on the plane. And then… Something happened. Bright, then dark. Then bright again. Then, the shaking. I remember it was cold. And hard to breathe. And then easy again. And my skin hurt. And…” I grit my teeth. “Just tell me where she is! Where’s Ikuko?!”

“In due time.”

“What was I reading?! What was—Who were those people?! On that island?!”

“They are who you saw them as. As I said, in that regard, you were a very unique Reader – you saw them as nothing but what they actually are.”

“I don’t understand. I don’t understand any of this!”

“Of course you do, Hachijo Tohya. Just think. Your memories alone should tell you what’s happened.”

I grab my head. “I… The plan crashed. It crashed, didn’t it?! There was a plane crash in the story. But not in the original one. The one I saw. I—Wait—No. No, that can’t be right.”

The woman’s smile is unbreaking.

“…It’s not a story, is it? It’s all happening. I’m the stranger. I’m lying in that bed right now, aren’t I? I’ve been lying there this entire time. But how…? How can these… people from our story… exist?”

“The world is a place of infinite potential. And so are the boards witches create. You should be flattered. Your story was translated. Into the real world.” The woman laughs, drowning out the sound of the rain, reverberating in my ears, tearing my skull inside-out. She’s beautiful. She’s evil. I want to die. I’m dead.

No.

Not dead yet.

Withering in a bed, shivering from the cold, suffering the worst kind of nightmare – but not dead. Yet.

“I have to wake up.” I say.

“Of course you do. I think the ending you can make now is a lot more entertaining than the one Ikuko penned originally. Don’t you think?”

Shut up.

“I… How do I do it? How do I get out of here?”

She takes a moment. “Well. You’ve fallen lower than you ever have before. The lowest of the low. This place is the very bottom, actually. And, at the bottom—” She snaps her fingers. The garden disappears. The ground under my feet turns to ice. The trees wither and scatter in the wind. The bricks of the mansion are swallowed by the red moon above. The only thing remains is a light, off in the distance. The light of a house. “ – At the bottom, Hachijo Tohya, is the Devil himself.”

I peer into the light.

And I see it more clearly.

It’s the light of the guesthouses.

The woman continues: “The Ushiromiya Battler of this fragment is certainly… a different kind of person. His memories were far more than a nuisance. They were an eternal torment on your soul. Waking up as him someday would not only mean he would kill Hachijo Tohya. It would mean he would likely kill many more. And now, at the lowest of the low, you must come face-to-face with him. Beat him. Or die forever.”

I shake my head. “No. No, you can’t make me do this! You can’t!”

“My dear Tohya…” she sighs, “This is the prison of your own design. Love will not quench this demon’s thirst. Nor will it set either of you free. It was inevitable. He was always there. Always waiting. And now, he’s waited long enough. Be grateful for the years you’ve spent as Tohya. And let the memories as the man you believe you are give you strength to defeat him.” She chuckles. “Or, fail and die. Either way, I am certain you’ll make it worthwhile.”

She snaps her fingers once more.

And she’s gone.

“No.” I say. “No, you can’t do this! No, no, no! Fuck! FUCK! IKUKO! WHERE ARE YOU?! IKUKOOOOOO?! HELP ME!”

I fall to my knees.

“Anyone… Anyone, please… Please, help me…”