2.
The club room was the eye of a storm.
A whirlwind of manuscript pages swirled around Kana and Haru, their sharp edges slicing through the air. The red glow of the sunset flooded through the windows, bathing the room in a bloodlike light.
Kana gripped her pen, scrawling her story onto the scattered papers on the floor. Her fingers trembled, and with each smear of ink, the cut on her cheek burned hotter, blood trickling down her face.
Haru crouched beside her, clutching her knees, eyes glistening with fear but fixed on Kana's hands. "Kana, this isn't the time to write! We have to get out of here!"
Her voice was drowned out. The vortex of pages roared, grazing Haru's ponytail and shearing off strands of chestnut hair. They floated upward, catching the sunset's light like embers.
Haru screamed and clung to Kana's arm, her nails digging into skin, drawing blood. Kana's face twisted in pain, but her pen never stopped.
At the storm's center, the shadow wavered. No longer human, it spread like ink dissolved in water, seeping into the floor. The wooden grain pulsed, black veinlike patterns crawling toward Kana and Haru, coiling around their shoes.
A cold, slimy sensation pierced their socks, clinging to their skin.
A shiver ran down Kana's spine. She tightened her grip on the pen and etched a new sentence onto the paper.
This room devours our words…
The words glowed red on the page. For a moment, the black patterns on the floor recoiled, and the shadow let out a low, animalistic groan. Haru grabbed Kana's shoulder, her voice sharp with panic. "What's happening?!"
"I don't know. But if I stop writing, we might disappear."
Kana's voice was steady, but her eyes flickered with a mix of terror and exhilaration.
She could feel it. With every word she wrote, the room's air clung to her skin, pulsing in time with her heartbeat, as if the room itself were fused with her body. Her story held the power to restrain the shadow—but it also fed it, twisting it into something darker, more perverse.
The shadow reformed, taking the shape of a woman. Long hair slithered across the floor, her face a blank void—no eyes, no nose, no mouth. Yet her silhouette bore an eerie resemblance to Kana. The shadow woman reached out, brushing Kana's written page. The paper flared red, and her fingers melted into it, sinking like wax.
Her body quivered, writhing as if in ecstasy.
Kana's breath caught, sweat beading on her hand as she gripped the pen.
"Kana, no! You can't keep writing that!" Haru lunged, trying to snatch the pen. Kana shoved her away, collapsing to the floor. Her sailor uniform bunched up, her scarf slipping off her shoulder. Her pale collarbone gleamed in the sunset, her sweat-slicked skin catching the light. Crawling on her knees, she gathered the scattered pages and resumed writing.
Her fingers, stained with blood and ink, trembled with each stroke, her body shuddering faintly.
The shadow woman drew closer. Her hair coiled around Kana's ankles, slinking up her thighs like cold serpents. Kana's breath grew ragged with fear, but her pen kept moving.
She was writing the shadow woman's story. Long ago, a girl in the literature club had penned an unfinished tale in this room. Her resentment birthed the shadow. Kana was weaving those fragments, trying to complete the story.
A bookshelf crashed to the floor, old issues of Aoi Bookmark spilling across the room. Dusty pages fluttered upward, glinting in the sunset.
Haru, cowering behind the shelf, grabbed one of the magazines with shaking hands. Its cover bore the title: Aoi Bookmark, Issue 13. She flipped through it and froze. There, under another member's name, was a story nearly identical to Kana's.
"Kana, look at this! A member from years ago… went through the same thing!"
Haru tossed the magazine, and it skidded to Kana's feet. Kana paused, glancing at the pages. The story described a girl cornered by a shadow in this room, forced to write. But it cut off abruptly, the final page stained red, as if with blood.
The shadow woman laughed. Her featureless head swayed, her voice rattling the windows. Her hair stretched further, binding Kana's body—tightening around her arms, slithering across her chest, coiling around her throat.
Kana choked, her grip on the pen tightening. Her words burned redder, scorching the paper.
"Haru, read it… read my story!" Kana gasped.
Haru, trembling, scooped up Kana's pages and began reading aloud, her voice quavering. With each word, the shadow woman's movements slowed.
But the walls of the room cracked, black liquid oozing from the fissures. It crept across the floor, clinging to Kana and Haru's skin like a living thing.
Kana's story was unraveling the shadow woman's past.
She had been a forgotten member of the literature club, a girl who wrote of love and hatred in this room, dying before her story was finished. Her unfinished tale had etched resentment into the room, giving life to the shadow.
Kana was completing it, trying to set the shadow free. But with each word, her own body withered. Her fingers bled, nails tore, skin split.
The shadow woman made her final move. Her form swelled, bursting through the ceiling. Debris rained down as Kana and Haru collapsed. The shadow engulfed the room, swallowing even the sunset. With her last strength, Kana finished the story.
She was freed. And the room reclaimed its silence…
As she wrote the final word, the shadow woman screamed, and the air exploded. The vortex of pages vanished, the black liquid evaporated. The shadow dissolved into the light, and the room fell still.
Kana didn't move. Her hand, still clutching the pen, lay in a pool of blood on the floor.
Haru, sobbing, rushed to her, cradling her body. Kana's eyes were closed, her face serene.
Her blood-and-ink-stained pages lay scattered across the floor. Haru gathered them, reading through trembling hands. They told Kana's story—the terror she faced, the pain she felt, and the hope she found in the end.
A night breeze slipped through the window. The sunset was gone, replaced by twinkling stars. Haru clutched Kana's pages and left the room. She knew. This room craved stories. It consumed writers, readers, everything. And Kana's story might birth a new shadow.