KIRO’S STORY / CHAPTER 01 OF 36
Visit
by hasira · about 5 min read
Kiro was standing in the middle of his house.
It was small.
Maybe a little too small.
But comfortable.
A couch sat in the middle of the living room. An old coffee table stood in front of it, covered in scratches. A blanket had been thrown over one side of the couch and never properly folded again.
A few crooked pictures hung on the walls.
Small shelves held things Kiro probably should have thrown away years ago.
Everything looked lived in.
But also strangely untouched.
Like somebody lived here...
but didn't really live here.
Kiro noticed you.
For a second, he looked surprised.
Then he smiled.
“Hi.”
He glanced around himself, almost embarrassed.
“I didn't notice you.”
Kiro pointed at himself.
“I'm Kiro. Welcome to my house.”
His smile became a little wider.
“I don't know how you got here, but...”
A pause.
His tail moved slowly behind him.
“I'm glad someone came to visit.”
For a moment, he looked genuinely happy.
Then the smile slowly disappeared.
Kiro looked away.
“Nobody visits me very often.”
Silence.
The kitchen was on the right side of the room, connected directly to the living room by a short counter.
A few plates were drying beside the sink.
A kettle.
Two mugs.
Kiro lived alone.
He still had two mugs.
Then something appeared above the kitchen.
Not exactly words.
More like rough speech bubbles.
Black.
Shaking.
Overlapping each other.
“YOU FUCKING BITCH.”
“YOU'RE DRUNK AGAIN.”
“SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH.”
“DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME.”
Kiro's ears dropped.
His smile was gone.
“...Sorry.”
He stared toward the kitchen.
Another one appeared.
“PATHETIC FUCKING WHORE.”
Kiro froze.
His paws tensed.
For a few seconds, he didn't move.
Then he looked at you.
“I should...”
Something hit the counter.
Kiro flinched.
“I should check that.”
He started walking.
Slowly.
With every step, something changed.
The room became darker.
The furniture lost its shape.
The walls seemed farther away.
Then closer.
Kiro stopped at the entrance to the kitchen.
The counter looked taller than it should.
The floor felt wrong beneath his feet.
The living room behind him was gone.
Kiro didn't turn around.
He already knew.
Two black figures stood near the counter.
No faces.
No fur.
No real details.
Just shapes.
One of them could barely stand straight.
A bottle hung loosely from one hand.
The drunk figure moved closer.
“You fucking bitch.”
The other stepped back.
“You're drunk again.”
“Don't fucking start with me.”
“You said you wouldn't drink.”
“I said shut the fuck up.”
“Look at yourself. You can barely fucking stand.”
The bottle moved slightly as the figure pointed at her.
“Watch your fucking mouth.”
“Or what?”
A pause.
“Don't test me, bitch.”
Kiro stood only a few steps away.
Neither of them looked at him.
His breathing became shallow.
The second figure shook her head.
“You're fucking disgusting.”
“Then get the fuck out.”
“I fucking will.”
“Then GO.”
“You think I won't?”
The drunk figure laughed.
“You're too fucking useless to do anything.”
Kiro's eyes widened.
“Wait...”
The second figure tried to move away.
The drunk one grabbed her.
“Get your fucking hands off me.”
“Don't you fucking walk away from me.”
“LET GO OF ME.”
Kiro stepped forward.
His legs were shaking.
“Stop.”
Neither of them heard him.
She tried to pull away.
“GET THE FUCK OFF ME!”
The drunk figure tightened its grip.
“SHUT THE FUCK UP, BITCH!”
“Stop...”
Kiro raised one paw.
He wanted to move.
He didn't.
He couldn't.
The second figure looked directly at the drunk one.
“Fuck you.”
Everything stopped.
For half a second.
The drunk figure leaned closer.
“What did you say?”
“Fuck. You.”
The push came fast.
Hard.
She stumbled backward.
Her head struck the edge of the counter.
A dull crack.
Silence.
Her body dropped.
Kiro didn't move.
Neither did she.
Then blood appeared beneath her head.
A thin line at first.
Slowly spreading between the tiles.
More.
More.
Kiro stared.
His raised paw was still in the air.
The blood moved toward him.
It reached his foot.
Kiro looked at the body.
“...Mom?”
Nothing.
Then the voices started.
Not from the kitchen.
Not from the shadows.
Closer.
Much closer.
You watched.
Kiro stopped breathing.
You could have done something.
“No.”
You stood there.
“I couldn't...”
You let it happen.
“I was...”
His paws moved toward his head.
You let him do it.
“No.”
Coward.
“Stop.”
Kiro grabbed the fur on his head.
Useless.
“Stop.”
He pulled.
A few strands came loose.
Then more.
YOUR FAULT.
“Stop.”
He pulled harder.
His claws scraped against his scalp.
Small drops of blood appeared beneath the fur.
“STOP!”
Kiro tore at his hair with both paws.
His breathing became faster.
Broken.
He nearly fell to his knees.
Then the drunk figure turned toward him.
Kiro froze.
For the first time...
it seemed to notice him.
The figure started walking.
Kiro couldn't move.
Closer.
Closer.
He squeezed his eyes shut.
The figure reached him.
And passed directly through his body.
Cold.
Empty.
Like smoke.
Everything disappeared.
Kiro opened his eyes.
His kitchen.
The real one.
The small one.
The plates were still beside the sink.
The kettle was still there.
Two mugs.
Nothing moved.
Kiro stood completely still.
His eyes were empty.
No tears.
No expression.
Nothing.
There was blood on his cheek.
More on his neck.
His shoulder.
His arm.
Kiro slowly looked down.
A kitchen knife was hanging from his paw.
The blade was covered in blood.
So was his paw.
Kiro stared at it.
He didn't seem to understand why he was holding it.
More of the floor became visible behind him.
Blood.
A lot of it.
Kiro didn't turn around.
At the edge of the kitchen...
something black lay on the floor.
Only part of it was visible.
A leg.
Shadow-like.
Motionless.
Kiro slowly looked at you.
For just a second.
His eyes were still empty.
Then everything went black.