GRUDGE BURST - Urban Fantasy Multi Protag Downward Spiral

Oh crap right, I have to get to work.

I hobble towards work, briefcase in hand. Though much less in a hurry, I could still feel the intense heat from my sweat permeate my body. Doesn't help that it's sunny and mucky outside. Granted, at least I could worry less since everyone already smells of sweat. I can tell the person in front of me showered earlier, but her sweat is starting to mix with the scent of the lavender scented shampoo. The man behind me showered last night, but with the sweating that he's done since then, he smells of a faint musk. And down 17 meters to my 2'oclock, there's this teenager who reeks of boiled eggs. Take a shower! And the little kid walking with their father over there, their breath smells of onion. Now that I think about it, why can I smell all of these things now?

...

Oh... oh right...

I was deluded into thinking things were normal when in fact, that couldn't be farther from the truth. For in my distracted mind I just remembered... that around summer time, my sinuses open. I believe I inherited this trait from my mother. Which is odd considering springtime is when my allergies are really bad, but I suppose that since I live in the city, concerns for pollen are very minimal for me...

Nevertheless, I finally arrive at work. Ten minutes early to work. A damn shame. Typically it would've been seventeen minutes, but my natural enemy halted my speed. Those damn traffic lights...

People are staring. I walk into the building and board the elevator. It was already a crowded elevator, so when my hulking body takes up even more space, I feel the staring get harsher. My closer co-workers look at me with bewilderment. Not just my frame, my odd sense of fashion, wearing a hat in the middle of work, my massive figure, my inconspicuous aura, my build that looks like I bench pressed a bus last night and reaped all the gains in one session. But in remembering who I was, they didn't fear me, they just gave me puzzled looks. As if I wasn't already a freak.

People are staring.

Miss Okita... my crush. An elegant woman. A very plain woman. She is cute in her blandness. She's not like these pristine idols that society feeds to the young. She didn't have clear skin or dimples, or beauty marks, or a skinny face, or long hair. She barely showed any sense of an interesting personality, but when she did, it would be through a clever comment. A rebuttal so insulting, yet so calm, so calculated, it would never come off as scathing, rather a clear jab at a person's weak point. An astute observation. A keen eye. Too keen. Polite and smart, that's what she was. No matter what the rumors say, I can't picture her as perverted. No. Not her. Could never be her. People always crave what society deems as attractive. Her, with a soft face, with features hidden by clothes that are a tad bit too big for her. Her, someone with glasses mind you, attractive to these other men, both young and old, who spend time messing around at karaoke and bars. There's no way she would steep so low. Quality of man so lame and dictated by vices. Never mind her small drinking problem; she drinks wine as she reads books, I'm sure of it. Everything about her is genuine, elegant. The way she talks. The way she types 192 words per minute. The way she sings to herself whenever she doesn't think anybody else is in the office. The way she looks at people with a cold stare yet a warm smile. Even the way she pisses is elegant. Forgive me Okita, but the way the toilet bowl rings and splashes resonates with my soul. I'm sorry for being so perverse, for accidentally being able to hear you using the bathroom just as I was about to enter the men's bathroom. And seeing you exit out as you blushed, made my heart feel something for once. And even then, here I am, a thirty year old who has a puppy crush on his co-worker. No... it simply can't be done. A work place is for work. Can't be mixed with silly fantasies.

That Miss Okita, I must avoid.

My love life was doomed from the start, but seeing her acknowledge me in this form would shatter me. There's very few things I care about in life anymore. Her rejecting me is one thing. Her hating me is another. Her outright fearing me has got to be the worst of them all.

People are staring.

"Yamada-san... is that you?"

Takeo, a twenty something year old working under me is the first coworker to acknowledge it outright.

"Y-Yes... G-Good morning Takeo."

"Wow you uh...you-

look GREAT!"

Thank god he's an idiot.

"I didn't take you as the type to work out? What routine do you usually do? Hell, I didn't even think you had the TIME to work out! Can I feel your muscles?"

"-NO! No, ahem , no. Excuse me, I just would prefer to not be touched."

"Ah alright alright, my bad hahaha!" responds Takeo.

"You look different, Yamada-san."

A cold voice erupts from behind me. My heart stops momentarily. I feel a bead of sweat roll down near my eye. The face mask becomes even more moist as I instinctively exhale. The embodiment of my death is behind.

"Did you hit a delayed growth spurt?"

It was Miss Okita.

"aH-haAHAHa, yes, hello Okita-San!" I respond back.

She gives me an initial soft smile before her face morphs into the same look that everyone (barring Takeo) has given me today.

"What's with the clothes? Trying to sweat off some mass?"

She leans in and pokes my abdomen.

A sound that was akin to "HO-OHhhhoohhh" escaped my mandibles.

"SORRY I'M JUST- very ticklish."

Her puzzled face evaporates into a snort. She turns her head away before regaining her composure.

"...right.

That still doesn't answer the question."

I think of something on the spot.

"Ah well, my umbrella is broken, so I thought the closest thing would be to wear layers of... clothes....

..."

She gave me a distant stare. Takeo kept his bright smile, barely registering the fallacies in my logic.

She looks out the window. As if for once, things went my way as grey clouds were starting to appear.

"Hm. So it looks like it's about to rain later...

...still, that's not very clever of you Yamada-San."

"I was in a rush you see-"

"Why."

"...I woke up late."

"That seems very out of character for you."

"Well I was real tired last night so I went out for a drink and I just ended up home late-"

"You? A bar? You should work on your comedy Yamada.

And besides, you rejected going to the bars last night with us. Why would you go alone?"

"To get some alone time..."

"Aren't you alone as is?"

I look away hesitantly.

"Different scenery, the bar's just... different, you know?"

"..."

Her eyes tighten. My soul clenches, braces for each blow after blow from her. To avoid such a predicament, I must also play her game.

"-and besides," I rebut.

"Why would you care?"

"...

You're right. I have a report to do. See you around Yamada... and you too Takeo."

"THANKS YOU TOO," responds Takeo.

"Oh and one last thing Yamada-San-

I know what happened this morning."

My heart sinks.

"You...you do?"

"...

No."

She gives me a cold smile.

"You're just a terrible liar."

She quickly walks off.

Despite her confirmation, my heart is still low. A sense of guilt and this cold tingle sparks throughout my body.

The smile was cold. Not warm. Cold. She walked away in a hurry. And it's as they say: women can read through men. As much as I don't want it to be true, and as much as she left in supposed casual terms, even I, who has no sense of awareness when it comes to how women feel:

even I felt my fear come to reality.

My body instinctively walks towards her. Almost as if there's something I want to clarify, or defend myself from her judgment, but what would I tell her? There's no reason to. That would be weird. Yet step after step, I slow inch my way towar-

AUGH!

...The hell? I almost stumbled on this rug. It has a permanent crease on it. Every time I step on it it slowly resets back to its crooked form. And with my new legs, this could've spelled out a worse fate. First thing in the morning, just what I need.

"Takeo, who put this rug here?"

"Ah, it was a present from Hinamori to Nishimiya after her promotion in the marketing department."

"...why is it here? Shouldn't she take it home?"

"Oh I think I heard them joke about how she had so many at home already so she thought it would liven up the office."

"...

...this is pre-owned isn't it."

"Yeah."

"But I've never noticed this thing before. When was the party?"

"Yesterday."

"..."

I wince.

Walked into that one.

"Well, alright...

I must get back to work so... I'll be seeing you around"

He smiles, "later!"

I walk towards my cramped desk. On the way there I notice the rows of paper and electronics that litter this office. Has it always been like this? I believe the only time I've ever noticed how small the offices were was back when I started working in my early twenties. From a new- literal change in perspective, I can finally understand now why people go out to drink every night... As if that would ever change. No matter how desolate this place may seem, that is simply reality. For people to escape into such vile vices? Pity on them. At least I'm aware. Can I change anything? No. Will I change anything? No; especially with what's going on with me right now. Would I change anything? Perhaps fix the AC unit in the back corner of the office but otherwise, not really. At least I'm aware of how things are. That's why I'm better than most of these people. I can even prove it. Now, if only I actually felt superior, then that would fix all my problems. Well, aside from the glaring one, but otherwise, I could at least be happy. Yes... Happy... Home is where one brings comfort. That's right. My home. Three monitors and a laptop. Piles of paper on my left and right side. This comfortable swivel chair. That is... home. Where I can waste away hours, minutes, days. The radiation coming off from my screens substitute the vitamins that I get from the sun. No need for something so bright and annoyingly hot. I have it all. Right here. My purpose in life is to analyze, write down, report, repeat. Analyze, write down, report, repeat. Analyze. Write down. Report. Repeat. No matter how draining it is, what matters is what one does in life. The purpose of life is to gain money, for that's what humans have come up from: greed. This social concept shapes the world around us and keeps us on leashes; as it should. Without these leashes, we would revert back to apes. Without these leashes, we would all be bad children. Delinquents. Rapists. Burglars. Murderers. Nevermind those who are homeless. They had a chance and they blew it. Those who blame society are weak-willed. It's a cutthroat business... this world. Socializing is for the lazy. Study, study, study. Maximize profits. Nevermind if a person's parents are lackluster, it is up to an individual to care for themselves. With age comes maturity, and one must be aware of their surroundings, aware of how the world works, aware of how fucked a person is- how EVERYONE IS, how they are ALL using us. But there's no use in complaining, because that is how the world works. Stick out too much, and you get hammered down. Speak out of line, you get shunned. Or god forbid, act like those lousy, loud Americans, and you'll get exiled. There is nothing a person can do except... accept.

CRUNCH

I look down at my right hand.

My computer mouse shattered.

My neighbor looks at me with a confused look. I look back at him also confused.

I ask him "do you by any chance... have a spare?"

.

.

.

Several hours pass. It is 6 PM. Time flies when you're having fun. I'm surprised by how smoothly this day has gone. I kept getting stares from everyone, and even some whispers here and there. A couple of people asked what was up, but I gave them a better answer than the one I gave Okita: I have a cold.

"Why don't you call off work then?" they would ask.

"Are you kidding? I still want money." I would respond.

Most of them did a faint chuckle. Takeo cackled aloud. We all stared at him rudely. He didn't care. For as obnoxious as he is, he still somehow seemed popular with most of the people in the office. I don't get why. Someone who barely takes his job seriously, does the bare minimum, yet still has friends around him. Do they not see who he is? And for as much as I cuss him out, I must admit to myself and to no one else: I enjoy his company. I don't know why, and I don't like it.

Even though the Japanese rule for salarymen is to work from Nine to 5, it is also an unwritten rule to work overtime. Otherwise, you get rude stares. Few would leave work at Five; A good 80-90% of us stood at the office. Typical day after all.

Ironically, nobody can stay after Eleven PM unless they have explicit permission from their supervisor. Being the hard worker I am, I always ask my supervisor beforehand, so much so that I don't have to ask him anymore. The company explicitly warned before to take breaks and leave before Eleven or else they could get in trouble again. A good four years ago, somebody died of over exhaustion. The company got in trouble, it was a huge scandal for local news, and the company got sued by the family, thus enforcing stricter rules at the workplace. But that won't be such a case for me. Besides, I doubt anybody would notice if I died or not, so they have nothing to worry about. Hell, I'm hardly recognized at all hahaha! And what family would sue them? Certainly not mine. I would often joke about this situation to my supervisor. I could tell he looked uncomfortable. But I don't get it. I'm giving them explicit permission to exploit me. I want money. Let me WORK damn it. If anything, at least that'll be one way I'll die comfortably: doing something I love. Isn't that what society preaches nowadays? What hypocrites... Silly, really.

...Oh, speaking of which, I see my supervisor coming towards me. He has that same neutral expression.

"Yamada-San, the boss wants to see you."

Instantly, my heart sinks.

"Shit."

My supervisor looks at me as if he heard his cat talk.

"...Pardon?"

"Uh- I mean, sorry, of course, I'll be right there. Excuse me."

He lets me pass through as I waddle towards the corner where his office is. I peer behind me. My supervisor gives me a distant stare.

I open the door.

There, my boss sits on his leathery throne. A desk that costs the same as my yearly salary, holding the weight of several reports and more importantly, my life. An old man that's a bit on the bigger side, yet his face lacks the same blubber depth that his belly has. His glasses glare as he tilts his head downwards. The same look all my peers gave me earlier, but this one was more condensed, concentrated, harsher.

"....?"

He motions with his hand to close the door.

I walk over to him and shake his hand.

"....

?????????"

His face contorts into a weirded out expression.

I hear chuckles through the open door.

People saw.

As I attempt to take my hand off of his- I accidentally yank his arm.

"You can let go now," he demanded.

"Ah- aha, y-yes sir! Sorry I'm just-"

These damn cockroach hands. Why do they STICK?

After limping my hand, I'm finally able to let go.

"That's... quite a grip you got there Yamada..."

"Sorry, you're just a very intimidating man, Mr. Takeshi."

I close the door and sit down.

"Pardon my rude display Mr. Takeshi. I do give the sincerest apologies. Y-You called me over?"

"...Yes..."

"Is... something wrong?"

"...Why are you wearing that hat and heavy coat?"

"Ah well you see sir, I have a bit of a cold."

Mr. Takeshi snorts but brushes it off as if it were a cough.

"I...See...

Well, good news Yamada-San, I called you over to my office for a simple reason. Upper management and I have noticed how hard you have worked in the office. We know that you care about this job. Most of these folks do their job sure, and most of them even go overtime, but you-

you have passion; you have drive. I've never seen anyone type up so many reports in such a short amount of time. It's like you don't do anything except work" said the boss.

"Hhahah, that's me!" I chuckle back.

"And next thing you're going to say is that you don't do anything besides work, gyahahah."

Takeshi’s laugh turned slightly louder.

"Tahahahaha, I don't!" I respond back, laughing along.

"Hhehehh...right...well, in any news, as much as we would like to offer you an opportunity, we must also bring up a bad habit of yours."

"...

Bad...habit...?"

"Yes. We understand many employees take overtime. That's fine. For most, that's what any adult does out of obligation. Lord knows the economy is only getting worse. And if you look lazy in front of your peers, much less your employers well... that's no good. And I know you know this. You know this so much that it's ingrained itself into your very person. And that's a problem."

I

I-

My heart drops.

"S-Sir, pardon but do you have the A/C on?"

"...No?"

"It's just it's... it's really cold in here."

The boss gives me a confused look.

He looks behind himself at the greyish weather. Clouds are forming. The bright sun suffocates under the wet smog that's about to occur.

He then turns back to me.

"It is twenty seven degrees celsius outside...?"

"Ahh I-I see sir. Sorry sir, please excuse me for interrupting you."

"...Of course. Well, it's a problem. I'm pretty sure you're already aware that an employee much like yourself passed away a couple of years ago from exhaustion. We understand that work is important, and a salary is also important, but I won't insult your intelligence. He was a valuable asset to us. Brought in lots of money. But with his death, their family filed a lawsuit, and we lost that case. As if he earned back all the money he made us through the grave. As a company, we simply cannot risk something like that happening again. We appreciate your hard work, but what good is an asset if he's an even bigger liabilit-"

"I don't have a family."

Takeshi looks up at me all of a sudden.

"Anymore." I continue.

"You needn't worry over such matters."

"...

Well, even if that were the case-" he says, readjusting his glasses,

"That would look bad for the company. They say 'any publicity is good publicity'. Wrong. That is a quote only idiots abide by. What fool would willingly attract negative attention to themselves? Who spread all of this backwards logic to the masses?

We did. The corporate landscape is one devoid of luck or mercy. I understand this may sound silly to you, but you must understand, we dumb these people down so that they can keep buying our products. If they fall for the bait, that is on them. The more people make fools out of themselves, the less potential competition there is. That is simply one way we make money. But you already know this. Philosophy has no room in our space. Thinking about ethics in commerce only halts progression. It is not a 'good' or a 'bad' thing, Yamada. It is simply a thing that is. This is your final warning Yamada-san. You are to clock out at 5 o'clock PM on the dot from now on. You are a very punctual person, we know that for a fact. Any minute later, your supervisor will have to open up an investigation."

"Will this affect my pay?"

"Well...of course? You're only working eight hours now. That is simple math."

I look down at the spiraling floor.

"I see."

As my eyes, throat and lungs become tighter and tighter, Mr. Takeshi continues his lecture.

"That being said, the chewing out portion of the meeting is over with."

He reaches from the file cabinet in his desk. He fingers through various tabs and folders until he finally reaches for a paper and slaps it atop his desk.

He gives me a forced smile.

"Congratulations Yamada-San. Upper management, your supervisor, and I have been talking, and we see you as a perfect candidate for the supervisor position. You have the most skills out of all people in your sector, you do more than enough work, you're punctual, you're respectful, and most importantly, nobody else in your sector qualifies for this position yet."

As the sentence progresses more and more, my mood immediately inverts in on itself. My posture lines up straight (or as straight as it can be). My head faces forward towards him, and there's finally a good thing happening to me today.

"S-Sir...I-I don't know what to tell you! I'm relieved!"

"I'd expect that Yamada. However, you'll have to be patient for another five more minutes. Though I am offering you this position, I must clarify a couple of rules and offerings before you sign the contract."

"Ah- alright, of course sir."

"First things first, would you be able to work at home, if given the opti-"

"YES" I blurt out.

I immediately cover my mouth in apology.

Takeshi gives me a look, but continues anyway.

"Bit excited aren't we, Yamada-san" he comments.

"Eheh, naturally."

"...right."

Before his hatred for me cements, I interrupt him.

"Ah, what's the reasoning for such a specific case?"

"Ah well you see, there's a new load of people coming into the office. We've already asked a couple people to work from home and as a survey concludes, most of them did all of the work they were asked to do, did it on time, and freed up some space for new employees."

I literally couldn't ask for anything better. At least now I don't have to stress about how people look at me! Granted, getting groceries is going to be a pain, but as long as I shop during midnight, and burden myself with copious amounts of clothes, I can finally live a happy, restless life! Of course I wouldn't be able to see Takeo anymore... alright well that's two good scenarios at least, but a scenario that I truly wouldn't like is not being able to see Miss Okita. Okita... Okita....

...

No. It wouldn't have happened either way. So now that I make peace with that, I won't have to worry about it in the future anymore. I suppose with some suffering comes some pay off... eventually.

"Yamada, are you listening?"

"AH- yes, sir!"

"So you agree to the last three terms I just stated?"

"Yes, of course sir!"

"Good. Well you might as well start with that coffee now."

"...Excuse me, sir?"

"It's part of the terms that you just agreed to."

I give him a confused look.

Oh shit.

Seconds before shitting myself, he bursts out chuckling.

"I'm messing with you Yamada, cheer up! In all honesty, I try to keep a calm composure, but the rest of the office is right! You're the only person who I can't take seriously!"

"...

Well...

...I'm glad I could entertain you sir."

"Yes, ahem , excuse me. Let's be honest, I know you well enough that you'd sign the agreement form without reading it. Am I correct?"

"Well, who would say no to a promotion; of course you're correct sir."

"Exactly. It is a good thing that everything is online nowadays. There will be a virtual server where you will be able to clock in, so we can actually hold you down to our agreement before the online replacement issue is even brought into the equation."

They were planning to fire me before then? For how long?? WHAT?

"So just sign here and then your new life as a supervisor begins effective tomorrow."

"Ah, yes, perfect."

I can hardly contain myself. It would be easier for me to run around the office or jump out a window than contain my excitement. I can feel my body vibrate in place. Oh god I need to stop this. It's too much. But... but. The thing I've been waiting for these past years. I pick up the pen on his desk. The oils on my fingers stick onto the writing utensil. The sword. The machete. Of which to cleave and carve my way past this macabre day. Onwards to a better day, a BRIGHTER day! All of this suffering was for something after all! DAMN IF THIS PEN HOLDS THE WEIGHT OF MY LIFE, I'LL HAPPILY CARRY IT AS LONG AS I CAN FINALLY CONTAIN THIS NIGHTMARE. No more stressing about work. No more stressing about damn noisy neighbors. No more stressing about the fools around me. No more SUFFERING. I CAN FINALLY BE HAPPY FOR ONCE. YEARS THAT HAVE BEEN WASTED NOW MADE UP FOR SOMETHING. THE WORST HOURS OF MY LIFE CULMINATING INTO A GRAND PROMOTION, AND THEN SOON- ANOTHER- THEN ANOTHER- THEN ANOTHER. AS LONG AS NOBODY SEES ME, NOBODY WILL KNOW THAT I LACK THE HUMANITY THESE FUCKS AROUND ME HAVE. YES. YES! DAMNED IF I'LL NEVER FEEL THE WARMTH OF A WOMAN, OR THE JOY OF MY CHILD RUNNING AROUND. DAMN IF I WILL NEVER GAIN RESPECT FROM PEERS AND STRANGERS ALIKE. DAMN, DAMN, DAMN IT ALL. AS LONG AS I SIGN

THIS

FUCKING-

"mmmm

Hold that thought Yamada-san."

Mr. Takeshi halts me as I write the first stroke of my name.

I look up at him in disbelief.

"wh-

what happened sir?"

"Before you finalize your name on there,

I will have to ask you to take off your hat and mask."

Wh

What

Wh

...

What

"What"

"Take it off."

"S-Sir-"

"Take off your hat

and mask

and might as well do yourself a favor and take off your coat too.

It's hot and humid outside! Surely you don't want to be sweaty when you're sick, right?"

My eyes instinctively twitch.

"I

I'm sorry sir, but I can't do that."

"...

hm.

Interesting."

He pauses and looks into the distance. We both sit there in silence for a brief moment.

He then continues.

"Well, it was a pleasure talking to you Mr. Yamada. The work restrictions hours are nevertheless still in pla-"

"WOAH HEY HEY HEY-

I'm sorry, I just...

I just...

Can't take off my clothes. I'm sick, like I told you earlier. Don't want to get my superior sick as well you kno-"

"I don't think taking off the top layer of your clothes for five seconds is going to infect me. Running around the office like a fucking clown. Aren't you thirty years old? Who the fuck does that. What's wrong with you? Did your parents starve you of so much attention that now you're looking for it under the guise of 'oh i'm just sick' tch. Actively looking for pity. Go on. I don't have all day."

"Now hold on a minute sir, isn't that an odd request to ask an employee? Under section thirteen of the code of conduct in the company's policy book, it says-"

"Do it or you're fired. I can't stand people who waste my time."

"..."

...

"..."

...

Well, here we are.

The first time I would ever have to defend myself in a social sense. I hate that it wouldn't be in front of Ms. Okita. Or any attractive woman as a matter of fact. Hate that I could never prove my masculinity to my father. Or anything to him. Or anyone, really.

...

Well, if he's asking, I might as well give him what he wants.

"..."

I stand up.

Towering over him with my back straight, with my legs finally standing in a comfortable way.

I take off my puffy overcoat. He's right; finally, I'm not baking inside this damn office.

I take off my hat. To hell with this stupid attire. I don't even know why I wore it in the first place.

"I don't know what's so interesting about my face.

But I'll warn you;

I was never known for my looks."

As I take off my hat, my other arm rips off the blue face mask. Finally, I can comfortably breathe.

I even take off my glasses, just for the fuck of it.

There he sits, shadowed by the colossal freak that I am. His face morphs from confusion, to surprise, to shock, to one akin to having an aneurysm. I reach for the pen on the desk. He falls on the floor and crawls backwards. I write my name on the contract. He stays there.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Mr. Takeshi.

Have a good day."

I pick up the majority of my disguise from the floor and equip it back on while shrinking down to my usual "human" posture. As I walk over to the door, Mr. Takeshi reaches for his phone and starts dialing, then stammering.

'Y-Y-Y-YES, EMERGENCY, THE-THER-THERE'S-"

I close the door behind me. Quietly.

My heart sinks.

My throat hurts.

My skin feels as fragile as paper.

I look back behind me just to check if the blinds were open or closed.

Oh, they were closed? Good.

So tell me.

Why is everyone in the office looking at me?

...

Oh shit, I left my overcoat behind on the chair I was sitting in.

Right now it must've revealed my comically sized hunchback....

and the bottom of my wings near my legs...

Quick, come up with a distraction.

"...Let's not get nosey now. Get back to work haha..."

A few of them listen. Most of them don't.

People are staring.

I can feel the cold sensation now. Their gazes picking apart every little flaw in my disguise. My pants are dirtier than usual. Now that they think about it, I would never wear a hat indoors. It was odd to begin with, but even more ridiculous now. Oh great. NOW IS THE TIME THEY REMEMBER THE REAL ME? My glasses are a bit off. My facial structure... there's no way someone's face is not long, especially not Yamada-San's. He has a square and plain face, not this flat and long head. Why all of a sudden-

Why is it that people pay most attention to me at my lowest?

"We heard a scream in there" announces a coworker far from where I am standing. He had a shaky base to his voice.

I quickly think on my feet.

"He had a cramp but he's fine now," I say back with a confident tone.

To assure people, I further my assertiveness.

"I didn't do anything to him."

Clear, bold voice of confidence escapes my lips.

And yet.

I hear hearts thumping. Why is it that I hear my own heart? I clarified with a confident voice that he was fine. And yet, why must I feel afraid? I clearly said in a bold voice that I didn't harm him. People listen to confident sounding egoists. Then tell me- why must they keep staring at me like that?

This tension. This palpable pulse. I can grasp it with my fingers. The feeling of people's throats.

No... this loud thumping. It's not my own heart;

It's the sound of all of their hearts pounding.

And this smell, a truly intoxicating smell. An invigorating sense of superiority when I smell it. Akin to smelling rotting fruits or milk. Akin to looking at an insect.

The smell

of fear.

For once in my life,

I hold these reins.

And yet.

And yet.

What am I supposed to do with these?

I hold my palms up as I walk over to get some coffee at the break room.

"Well in other news...you're looking at the new potential supervisor!"

Nobody reacts. Everyone was still.

"...was expecting some claps... well, in either case, we should all just go back to work and-"

DWAA-OOOHHHHH!

RRRRRIIIPPPPPPP

What the?

The carpet from before.

The same one that I tripped on earlier. Just happened to keep its ever-present bump and make me tumble down to the floor again. Pathetic as always, Yamada. The eternal clown Yamada. Even when I have people in the palm of my hands, I can't even capitalize on it, and I go back to square one with my life. God...

...

Well, now that I've made a complete ass of myself, at least all these people can go back to normal and stop fear...ing...

...me....

As I got up, all of the faces morphed into a macabre mesh of the same reaction. An otherworldly sense of similarity. All of them. All of these humans. All of their flaws and drinking habits and mundane lives mashed together into an army of fearful ants. All of them bearing the same expression with slight accentuations. Peeled back eyebrows, mouths agape. As if singing a choir of fate. A council that spells out my destiny. Judgment. Those god damn eyes. Those GOD- DAMN EYES.

People are staring.

And they'll never stop.

"What... is something wrong?" I ask the crowd.

I scratch an itch that's near my back.

BZZ BZZ

I move my wing out of the way to scratch the spot. Come to think about it, it's been bothering me for a while but I didn't want to risk...

....

...I moved my wing...out...of.....

I

I....

People are staring.

Silence is loud. It's been a minute and forty two seconds since people saw the rip on the back of my suit. All of my coworkers crowd to the back of the office as far as they could. I have a sea of thoughts going through my head. Thoughts so loud it drowns out the screaming and the cursing. My main thought that's been bothering me is, aside from why this entire thing was happening to me right now of all things, why did my suit rip now? I was crawling earlier at high speeds and yet, a simple trip and fall was the only way it ripped? I know I took precise care in bending my legs to the safest degree, so that my clothes didn't rip. But I guess not everything can be accounted for. Accidents happen.

...

It's ironic isn't it. For as much precision and care that I took to not bending my clothes, or getting caught by anyone, or reassuring people that nothing suspicious is going on, all it took was a damn carpet to take me down. That really is a divine comedy- a cosmic comedy! Go ahead, Kami of Japan! All of you, strike me down! Because by god- by YOU, I WOULD MUCH PREFER DEATH OVER THIS. I PRAY TO YOU, AND THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY ME? MISERY. MISERY. MISERY. WHAT HAVE I DONE TO GAIN THIS!? LIVE TOO RAMBUNCTIOUS, I GET PUNISHED. LIVE TOO HOLY, I STILL GET CURSED. GO AHEAD THEN, SEND EVERYTHING YOU HAVE. I DOUBT I GIVE A FUCK ANYMORE-

The door to the office entrance opens up to my right.

In comes an officer looking down at his clipboard and report.

"Excuse me, is this the accounting firm of Hyoshi Analytic-"

He looks up and sees the crowd of people near the wall.

"What the...?"

He looks to his right and sees me.

I look at him.

Oh shit.

"Oh shit-"

OH SHIT.

"OH SHIT."

"OH SHIT!"

He drops his clipboard and frantically unholsters his revolver.

"WHAT

WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT THING?"

I forget that since my suit is ripped from the back, my suit is practically hanging onto my body.

I instinctively go into the lowest form of apology: Dogeza.

"I'M SORRY OFFICER I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING I DIDN'T MEAN TO SCARE MY COWORKERS PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DON'T HURT ME!"

I meant every word when I said it. My soul is on the brink of exploding. I can feel reality crumble around me. I just want this day to be over.

But then again.

Self awareness is cruel.

As I soon remembered the form I was given-

and the perception people would take of me.

"IT'S TAKING AN OFFENSIVE STANCE" one of my coworkers shouted.

"SHOOT IT SHOOT IT SHOOT IT!!!!!!!" cried another.

...

what

...

WHAT

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

I THEN FORGOT.

WHEN ANIMALS ARE CORNERED

THEY ARE FEARFUL.

AND WHEN THEY ARE FEARFUL

THEY ARE AT THEIR MOST DANGEROUS.

BANG!

He shot.

The officer shot at me.

THE OFFICER SHOT AT ME-

AND I INSTINCTIVELY DODGE.

With my back up against the wall, I take deep breaths, I gasp for air. My hat falls off and exposes my antenna. For as much as the suit is hanging on, it fails in covering up my second pair of arms.

I look at the officer with my face mask and glasses. There's no point in trying to disguise myself. Yet I still scream for mercy. Everyone is in too much shock to attempt to understand.

I look at the officer with pleading eyes.

All I see are fearful spirals.

"GE-GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME" he shouts.

...

Is that what everyone wanted from the beginning?

To be avoided by me? Is that it? Am I such an insect that they would prefer not to hang around me? Am I that much of a nuisance? Despite the fact that I rarely ever bother anyone else? I never poke the bear but during childhood, all of the kids just NEEDED to poke and prod and bother and SPIT AND HIT AND RIP AWAY AT ME?. IS THAT IT? TO GET RID OF ME? SOMEONE WHO BARELY HAS ANY FUNCTION OF SELF RESPECT? AND YET YOU STILL FIND IT FUNNY TO HUNT ME DOWN? FOR SHAME- ON ME. TO THINK SOMETHING AS SILLY AS BEING BORING WOULD LEAVE ME BE.

I stand up straight, unhinging my legs and my stature.

I dash towards him, yanking the gun out of his hand before he could even react.

"IS THIS WHAT YOU WANTED? TO GET RID OF ME?" I yell aloud.

I walk away from the officer as he falls on his ass in terror.

"WELL AT LEAST GIVE ME THE HONORS TO DO IT. THAT WAY, I'LL AT LEAST CONTRIBUTE ONE GOOD THING IN MY LIFE."

I point the gun towards my cheek at an upward angle.

Bang.

A whimper is heard.

The sound echoes throughout the room and makes everyone temporarily deaf.

Smoke emits.

I feel a sting. A hot sensation on my cheek.

The perception of time skews.

.

.

.

As I await to see the Kami that have cursed me, the cloud parts its way.

It reveals:

my coworkers.

I look to the right of me.

The officer is groaning on the ground, as blood comes out of his right foot.

I stare back at the gun.

There is indisputable truth that what just happened really did just happen.

I touch my right cheek.

It hurts but over all, the sensation of my then-plump cheek turning into a steel-like face is... completely fine.

I instinctively drop the gun and crawl down towards the officer.

"ARE YOU OKAY? I'M SO SOR-"

"STAY BACK YOU MONSTER, STAY- STAY THE FUCK AWAY!!!!!"

I get up and inch away.

I look back at the crowd. I see everyone crying for their lives.

Takeo. Amai. Koji. The person who sits next to me. My supervisor.

Okita.

She gives me a warped stare. One with so many emotions it's hard to describe something so visceral.

Their eyes.

I've never felt so ripped apart in my entire life.

Tears go down my cheeks too.

Yet.

As if they could ever tell.

I run towards the windows and crash through, jumping out and unleashing my wings in a flurry.

My vision is blurry.

My heart hurts.

My brain hurts.

With this body I feel free from the corporate vice grip.

I am free of the people who hated me, and the lifestyle that has haunted me for the past decade or so of my life.

Even if an idiot were to excuse these events in the most roundabout ways,

why bless them with something they never asked for.

Suffice to say.

I don't think I'll be getting that promotion.

.

.

.

I hid under a bridge near the edge of town. One by the forest. My suit is tattered, barely intact. The lower part of my pants are ripped, leaving me with these dirty fancy shorts. It's mucky here. Grimy. Humid.

...

The rain rises at a rapid pace.

I do not care.

It's cold down here.

I do not care.

I lay here, resting, taking a much needed nap near my brethren, these cretins, these field mice and crickets, and ants, and cockroaches.

It all hurts.

But I do not care.

I look upwards at the ceiling of the bridge. Counting all the bricks that made this humble bridge. Thinking about the hands that helped to make it.

I wonder if people have thought about the hands that made the things around us. No doubt it's all done out of business. God knows who ever does city projects out of the sake of benevolence. Even now, my bosses were correct. Everything is done out of business.

...

I have to wait a couple hours for nightfall so that I won't be seen.

...

Even if I do be seen though, I doubt I would care...

...

I turn to my side, the way which was most comfortable for me to sleep in my human days.

I try and try and try. Yet the shape of my back simply forbids me.

I cry.

.

.

.

It is 9 PM.

I fly throughout the city and land on my apartment roof. I've never seen this perspective of the city. I thought it was neat. Very pretty.

I got bored of it after twelve seconds.

I know it's no use.

I know it's no use.

But my heart still palpitates for you.

Hopefully I can convince her, hopefully she can understand the curse that has befallen within me.

I take out the phone within my pocket.

...

I put it back in.

...

I take it back out.

What would I even say?

I'm sorry? Please forgive me? It's not what it looks like? You don't understand what it's like to be me? To suffer with a boring personality, to be- A LITERAL COCKROACH? That I have a crush on you? That you are the only person that I have ever felt warmth to? Because I heard you piss one day? Or simply because you're adorable in your mannerisms? What do I say...

What should I say...

I can't confess to her...

And it's already too late.

If only the logical mind met eye to eye with the emotional mind.

Ring ring

...

Ring ring

...

I hang up.

...all that...

Here we go again. Just another day as Yamada the coward. Even if you take the human out of Yamada, he's only left as the cockroach he i-

Ring ring

What's this?

Okita...is calling me back?

I instantly pick up?

Silence.

"H-hello?" I whisper in.

"Yamada."

"Ah, Okita-san! I just wanted to call you to s-"

"Don't bother.

Look...I don't....

..."

I can feel her hesitating to not end the phone call. Who knew a woman had balls bigger than me.

"I don't know what's going on with you. And I don't want to know. This will be your only warning to never call me again. I fear that if I blocked you without saying anything, you would hunt me down. I don't know what's become of you but...b-but... just... just leave me alone.

Goodbye."

CLICK

...

What's become of me...

What's become of me...?

I look towards myself.

"...Is it not obvious???"

.

.

.

I finally open the latch of the roof and climb down. Most people are already asleep, plus I don't smell anyone down the hall. I gently walk over to my door.

There is a yellow note posted on it.

``𝚃𝚘 𝙼𝚛.𝚈𝚊𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚊. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚏𝚏 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖 𝚊𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚜. 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚜. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚞𝚙𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚜 𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢. 𝚆𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚜𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚔 𝚞𝚙 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚍𝚊𝚢𝚜, 𝚘𝚛 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍. 𝚂𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚢, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚏𝚏 𝚊𝚝 𝚈𝚊𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚒 𝙰𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜.``

...

So it was over before it even started.

...

おわりだ。