Yumi walked me to my street.
I told her to go.
I needed to be alone.
Pride kept me from crying in front of her.
I had to be strong.
At home, the ghost of my mom's warmth haunted the place.
Last night's instant noodles sat on the stove.
Dinner.
I boiled an egg, poured warm water over noodles, sat cross-legged in the dusty living room.
No seasoning. No lemon. Just bland broth and hollow heart.
I imagined Mom's four-spice chicken with colored rice.
I missed her.
I crawled into bed.
Cold crept in like an uninvited stray cat.
Eyes wide open, staring at the cracked window.
Listening to nothing.
Sleep never came.
The Next Day — Museum Field Trip
ZZZZzzzZZZ.
Bus rides suck.
Why a school trip on a Saturday?
Our teacher's fake enthusiasm sliced the silence.
"Isn't this exciting?"
Dead silence.
Thirty minutes of instructions.
Finally, freedom.
"Hey Ikiryo, you look like a zombie with all that crust in your eyes."
Yumi's sharp eyes since age seven.
"You didn't even comb your hair."
"Oof. Rude. But fair."
She stepped closer.
Floral perfume.
Plucked boogers like a pro.
"Want an orange?"
"You know I hate oranges."
"Mandarins. Easy to peel."
She smiled.
Girls.
The museum was huge — bigger than our school.
Group assignments.
Of course, I was paired with Yumi.
If not for this trip, I couldn't afford to come.
Reality hit.
Mom's condition. One week left.
Hospital bills.
Why was I even here?
No matter where I went, worry followed.
We wandered to a quieter wing.
The air grew heavy.
Lights flickered.
A door, slightly ajar, at the end of the dim hall.
"Ancient Taxidermy Exposition."
"Yumi, come with me." I was curious to see.
Rows of ancient animal heads—mounted, preserved, staring blankly.
Glass eyes reflecting low light.
Watching.
Waiting.
Chill down my spine.
"What are these?"
"I want to be vegan now."
"Never seen creatures like these either."
Half-beast, half-myth.
Too many limbs. None at all.
Fangs, feathers, horns — impossible.
"They'd be happier out wild."
We kept walking.
The air thickened.
Then — a breath.
A whisper.
We froze.
"Did you feel that?"
"Yes!"
"What was it?"
"No idea."
Still, we moved deeper.
The feeling grew louder.
Something was off.
Something waiting.
The Creature
My feet stopped.
Before me — a massive head.
Deer and something else.
Angular. Predatory.
Black stripes like claw wounds.
Twisted antlers clawing the air.
But the eyes.
Deep. Blacker than black.
Staring.
Yumi whispered:
"What is that?"
I couldn't answer.
Its fur looked chewed up by time.
But those eyes were alive.
Watching.
Waiting.
Everything blurred — Yumi's breath, the museum lights, my thoughts.
Only the eyes remained.
Then —
A low sound.
A growl?
A voice?
Calling my name.