Chapter Text
This is so fucking stupid.
That’s what Ena thinks when her trio of paranormal investigators break into a supposedly “haunted” clinic. It was supposed to be a routine shoot— take some readings, look cute, vamp and banter with Mizuki— most of the sites they explore end up being dead ends, after all. But once they've slipped through the un-boarded window into the reception area, they can all tell this job feels different. The dread hangs in the air, thick and palpable. It's a paper mask of a clinic, hiding something sinister.
This is the worst day of my life.
That’s what Ena thinks when they creep into the back room and find a hidden staircase— only unearthed because its steel plate covering had been wrenched open from the inside— and doubly so when Kanade chooses to lead them down.
This is suicide.
That’s what Ena thinks when she sees the long-dried blood on the walls; when they pass rooms thick with the stench of dust and disinfectant; when Mizuki finds medical equipment straight out of science fiction, grotesque enough to set even the skeptic on edge.
We’re being followed.
That’s what Ena thinks when she hears ominous groans from the vents, punctuated by a series of clicks. Always above and behind, but falling silent when she tries to place them.
Her paranoia’s shooting through the roof, but somebody has to protect her pair of idiots from themselves. Though, with Mizuki wandering off and Kanade lagging behind, it's impossible to keep her eyes on both simultaneously.
Mizuki keeps being a pain in the ass about Ena’s very reasonable worries, disappearing to poke her camera into everything she Definitely Shouldn’t and reappearing at the perfect moment to make Ena jump and scream. Y'know. For “content.”
Idiot. Hasn’t she ever even seen a horror movie? Splitting off on your own is the fastest way to get chased, possessed, impaled, or worse. Sure, her girlfriend can be annoying sometimes, but she’d rather kiss her about it than let her die.
Kanade, on the other hand, is insistent on investigating. She stops to read every little excerpt on some half-dead computer screen or to listen to every tape recorder they found. How does this place still have power? How old is it to have tape recorders?
This behavior Ena can excuse, both because Kanade is technically her boss and because the way she focuses on threading the narrative together despite her own mounting dread holds an inexplicable charm.
… Or maybe that’s just her girlfriend bias talking again. Regardless, it compels Ena to follow through.
The pieces fall into place as Kanade investigates, driven by her own morbid curiosity. The facility — seriously, why is it so fucking big? — had apparently been used to "push the limits of human potential," centered around a primary experimental subject, with secondary subjects used to ensure experimental “purity.”
Ena would guess they pushed those limits too far.
Eventually, all the sprawling paths seem to taper off or coalesce towards a single point. Mizuki notes, terrifyingly, that the security infrastructure is all directed inward in that direction, not towards the entrance. It’s made to keep something in, not keep people out.
When they reach the lab’s depths, it only gets more disturbing.
Nothing like the gore and horrific equipment before, although there’s undoubtedly some of that inside the control room. No… no bodies, though. While Kanade pieces together the last bits of information at the terminal, Ena wipes the dust from the window into an observation platform below.
It’s a child’s bedroom, well-kempt and plainly decorated.
The implications of that make her want to hurl. God, how awful do you have to be to experiment on children? Why would a child need to be locked up behind barricades and blast doors?
A clipboard clatters to the floor behind them, loud as gunfire. Ena turns back to the door, shining her torch, and her stomach plummets. Lured into this room with nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, the thing that has been stalking them has finally made its appearance, blocking the only exit.
A young, dark-haired woman who couldn't be older than any of them, carrying a bedraggled toy bunny with stuffing leaking from the seams. Her medical fatigues are bleached white with age and streaked rusty brown with…
Blood. It has to be blood.
She gazes with silent intensity at the trio as if weighing up a meal. The radiance of Ena's flashlight catches on her skin unnaturally, glowing porcelain white, standing in sharp contrast to her pupils, bottomless pits of black that swallow the light whole.
She doesn’t move— no, it isn’t just that. She’s motionless in a way no human ever has been, ever could be, but every instinct tells Ena she’s ready to pounce.
What can they even do in this situation?
Break the window into the room below? It looks solid enough to withstand an explosion, much less her weight.
Maybe if she sacrifices herself, this… revenant or whatever she is will be too occupied to chase down the others. Mizuki’s a fast runner, but— no, Kanade would never make it back to the van in time.
While Ena’s mind races with panic, Kanade speaks, her voice soft, soothing, and vexingly unphased. “Hello there. My name's Kanade. What’s yours?”
The spook's head snaps to her, sudden and startling like ice cracking underfoot.
“Mm?" The girl murmurs. She doesn’t move, but her throat and jaw bulge and set thickly like she’s working through a lungful of peanut butter. "Mrrrruh—”
It’s almost words, or a syllable at least, but it's like she’s forgotten how to make the sounds. “Myafuyu,” she manages after an uncomfortably long pause— not like they have any choice but to wait for her.
“Mafuyu? You must be the girl from the logs…. I read about what happened to you on the way down here.” Kanade bows her head. “I’m so sorry.”
Mizuki nods and slowly lowers her camera in a show of non-aggression. “Yeah, you don’t need to worry, though. We’re not gonna get you in trouble or anything.”
The girl, Mafuyu, seems stunned for a moment. “Ssssstrange,” she offers with a hollow, whistling lisp.
Ena wants to yell about what a bad idea this is— talking down the murder ghost, or whatever the hell this is? Hello??
But… she glances at the bedroom again. A child, she reminds herself. If Mafuyu really was at the center of this maze of horrors, then Ena has no idea what she’s been through. Maybe she just needs a little compassion.
So she keeps her mouth shut.