The Aftermath: A New Beginning

  Kayo awoke with a violent gasp, his body drenched in cold sweat. Sunlight streamed through the hospital window, morning having arrived during his spiritual battle. His heart pounded in his chest, but the rhythm was strong, steady—victorious.

  His vision seemed altered—sharper, with colors more vivid than before, yet everything carried a subtle undertone of shadow at the edges. When he looked directly at the shadowy fringes, they retreated from his gaze like shy animals.

  With growing trepidation, Kayo turned his attention to his left arm. The bandaged stump remained, the white gauze pristine and unchanged. Yet when he concentrated, focused his will as he had in the dream realm, reality... shifted.

  The stump rippled, darkness flowing from beneath the bandages to coalesce into a perfect replica of his lost hand. It appeared solid, normal—indistinguishable from his original hand except for a barely perceptible darkness beneath the skin, like veins filled with ink rather than blood.

  "Like what I've become?" The voice slithered through his consciousness like oil on water—The Smiler's voice, but diminished, lacking its former power. "A glorified prosthetic for a human child. How the mighty have fallen."

  Kayo flinched at the unexpected intrusion. "You're still here," he whispered aloud.

  "Of course I am. Did you think victory meant freedom from me? No, no, dear boy. We are bound now, you and I. Forever entwined like the most intimate of lovers." The Smiler's words dripped with venom and resignation.

  The door opened, and the morning nurse entered with a cheerful smile. "Good morning! How are we feeling today?"

  Kayo raised his left hand—The Smiler's hand—and waved it directly before her face. "Can you see my hand?" he asked, voice tight with tension.

  The nurse's gaze passed directly through the shadowy appendage, her expression unchanging. "What hand, dear?" she asked, concern crossing her features as she approached the bed to check his temperature. "Are you having phantom limb sensations? That's quite normal after amputation."

  A complex mixture of relief and dread washed over Kayo. The nurse continued her morning routine, completely oblivious to the supernatural limb Kayo now possessed.

  "She can't see me. Nobody can. Nobody except you," The Smiler whispered in his mind. "I'm your little secret now. Your constant companion."

  "Shut up," Kayo muttered under his breath.

  "I'm sorry?" The nurse looked up from checking his vital signs, confusion evident in her expression.

  "Nothing," Kayo replied quickly. "Just talking to myself. Coping mechanism."

  The nurse's face softened with sympathy. "That's completely normal after trauma. Your doctor is considering a referral to a therapist who specializes in PTSD and phantom limb syndrome."

  "Oh yes, therapy. Tell them all about me. See how quickly they medicate you into oblivion," The Smiler's voice laughed coldly inside his head.

  As the nurse adjusted his IV, Kayo flexed his new fingers, watching as they passed through solid objects like smoke yet felt substantial to him. She left, promising breakfast would arrive soon.

  "You know what's fun about being inside your head, Kayo?" The Smiler's voice continued once they were alone. "I can see everything you're thinking. Every. Little. Fear."

  "You're powerless now," Kayo whispered harshly. "Just a voice. Nothing more."

  "Am I? Try ignoring the whispers of your own mind. Try shutting out thoughts that bloom from within. I may be diminished, but I am far from powerless."

  Kayo gazed out the window at the spirit-filled world now permanently visible to his altered perception. He blinked once, his vision was normal. He blinked again—still normal. Then, experimentally, he blinked three times in succession. Immediately, his vision tinted black at the edges, and the spiritual realm revealed itself.

  Spirits walked among the living on the street below—some peaceful, others tormented, most simply lost. A businessman in mid-century attire passed through pedestrians, eternally late for a meeting decades past. A young woman in a blood-stained school uniform stood motionless by a vending machine, her head tilted at an unnatural angle.

  "So the ability must only activate after I blink three times," Kayo murmured to himself.

  "Clever boy," The Smiler's voice mocked. "You're learning to use my gifts already. But remember—my gifts always come with a price."

  Kayo looked out the window, blinked once, and his vision returned to normal. The spirits vanished from sight. He blinked three times and the spectral realm appeared once more, his vision darkening at the edges as the veil between worlds thinned. Another blink, and reality reasserted itself.

  "Each time you use my power, I grow a little stronger," The Smiler whispered. "Each time you peer into the spirit world, you feed me just a little more of your essence."

  "You're lying," Kayo replied, but uncertainty colored his voice.

  "Perhaps. Perhaps not. You'll have to use my gifts to find out, won't you?"

  The sound of the door opening cut short their exchange. Kayo's parents entered, his mother carrying a small vase of flowers, his father holding a neatly folded change of clothes.

  "Honey!" his mother exclaimed, rushing to his bedside. "Great news! You can go home tomorrow!"

  His father approached more slowly, eyes heavy with concern. "You feeling better, son?" he asked, his voice gruff with emotion.

  "Y-yeah, I feel great," Kayo replied, forcing a smile. "Besides the missing hand, of course."

  "Tell them about me," The Smiler whispered. "Tell them how I'll be watching when they sleep."

  Kayo winced, earning a concerned look from his mother.

  "Is the pain bad?" she asked, reaching for the call button. "I can get the nurse—"

  "No, no, I'm fine," Kayo insisted. "Just a twinge. It comes and goes."

  His mother embraced him gently, tears welling in her eyes. "I'm so sorry, hun. You will get used to it though, I promise. We told the police about the people who kidnapped you. They've been searching, but nothing has come up yet."

  Kayo let off a small smile, thinking to himself, "Thank god. There were no kidnappers in the first place."

  "Lying to your parents already," The Smiler observed with cruel amusement. "We're going to get along splendidly, you and I."

  "Why are you smiling, Kayo?" his mother asked, pulling back to study his face.

  "Oh, nothing. Just glad to see the both of you," he replied, the lie coming easily to his lips.

  His father settled into the chair beside the bed, his weathered hands clasped tightly together. "The doctors say you're recovering remarkably well. Physically, at least." He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "But son, trauma like this... it leaves scars that can't be seen."

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  "If only he knew," The Smiler laughed inside Kayo's mind.

  "Dad, I'll be okay," Kayo assured him, reaching out to pat his father's arm with his right hand. "Really."

  "We've arranged for you to see a therapist," his mother interjected, her tone making it clear this wasn't up for discussion. "Twice a week to start. Dr. Tanaka comes highly recommended for cases involving... violent trauma."

  "Oh, this will be entertaining," The Smiler whispered. "What will you tell Dr. Tanaka? About the voices in your head? About how you can see the dead? About me?"

  "That sounds good," Kayo said, ignoring the voice that only he could hear. "I think it might help."

  The conversation with his parents continued for hours. They discussed practical matters—how the house would need slight modifications, whether he wanted to consider a prosthetic hand, the homework his friends had collected for him. His mother had already contacted the school counselor. His father had spoken with his boss about taking time off to help with Kayo's transition home.

  Throughout the conversation, The Smiler continued its commentary, a venomous undercurrent to every interaction.

  "Your mother's eyes are so moist and delicate. I remember how delicious eyeballs taste when they pop between teeth."

  "Your father's hands are strong. Strong enough to strangle you in your sleep if I whispered the right suggestions into his dreams."

  "They love you so much. It would destroy them completely if their precious son became a murderer."

  Kayo maintained his composure, though occasionally a flicker of distress would cross his face, prompting concerned glances from his parents.

  After what seemed like an eternity, a nurse entered to check his vitals and administer pain medication. "Visiting hours are almost over," she informed his parents gently. "He needs his rest if he's going to be discharged tomorrow."

  His mother kissed his forehead. "We'll be here first thing in the morning to take you home."

  His father squeezed his shoulder. "Get some sleep, son. Things will look brighter tomorrow."

  "Doubtful," The Smiler commented as Kayo's parents left the room.

  When they were gone, Kayo turned his attention inward, focusing on the presence that lurked in his consciousness. "What do you want from me?" he demanded quietly.

  "Want? Nothing specific. Entertainment, perhaps. You humans are so delightfully fragile—physically, mentally, emotionally. Watching you struggle against the inevitable is... diverting."

  "The inevitable?" Kayo asked.

  "Your surrender, of course. Eventually, you'll tire of fighting me. Of hearing my voice. Of feeling my presence. You'll slip, just once, and I'll regain control."

  "That's never going to happen," Kayo said with conviction. "I beat you once. I'll keep beating you if I have to."

  "Such spirit!" The Smiler's voice was almost admiring. "We have all the time in the world, you and I. Let's see how long your resolve lasts."

  The police arrived shortly afterward to question Kayo about his "kidnapping." He fabricated details about masked men, a warehouse, demands about drugs. The officers took copious notes, asked probing questions, and ultimately left with sympathetic expressions and promises to "do everything possible" to find the perpetrators.

  "You lie so naturally," The Smiler observed after they'd gone. "Perhaps there's more of me in you than you care to admit."

  That night, Kayo fell into an exhausted sleep. In his dreams, The Smiler waited—not as the terrifying entity it had once been, but as a diminished shadow of itself. A fragment trapped in a corner of Kayo's mind, watching with that eternal crimson grin.

  "You're still here," Kayo observed in the dreamscape.

  "Always," The Smiler replied. "A piece of sand in the sandbox of your mind. For now."

  The dream shifted, showing Kayo visions of what might have been—The Smiler victorious, wearing Kayo's skin, slaughtering his parents with Kayo's hands while Kayo watched, helpless, from the prison of his own consciousness.

  "That will never happen," Kayo insisted, his dream-self turning away from the nightmarish images.

  "Perhaps not," The Smiler conceded. "But possibilities are infinite, and eternity is long."

  When Kayo awoke the next morning, he felt strangely refreshed despite The Smiler's nighttime torments. The dark entity's power over him was indeed diminished, reduced to whispers and suggestions rather than the overwhelming force it had once been.

  As promised, his parents arrived early to take him home. The discharge process took several hours—forms to sign, prescriptions to fill, follow-up appointments to schedule. Throughout it all, The Smiler maintained a running commentary that only Kayo could hear, alternating between threats, observations, and twisted jokes.

  By mid-afternoon, Kayo was finally settled in the backseat of his father's car, watching the hospital recede in the side mirror. The familiar streets of his neighborhood looked different now—layered with the ghostly impressions of spirits Kayo could see whenever he blinked three times.

  Home was both familiar and strange. His mother had prepared his favorite foods. His father had installed temporary handrails in the bathroom. His bedroom remained exactly as he had left it—manga stacked on the desk, school uniform hanging in the closet, posters of his favorite bands on the walls.

  "Such a lovely cage they've built for you," The Smiler commented as Kayo surveyed his room. "Are you the pet or the prisoner?"

  That evening, after a quiet dinner during which his parents tried too hard to maintain normalcy, his mother broached the subject they'd all been avoiding.

  "Hun," she began tentatively, setting down her cup of tea, "I don't want to rush you into anything, but when do you think you might want to go back to school?"

  Kayo considered the question. Part of him dreaded returning, facing the inevitable stares and questions about his missing hand. Another part longed for the normalcy of classroom routines, the comfort of friends, the distraction from The Smiler's constant presence.

  "Go back," The Smiler urged with uncharacteristic enthusiasm. "All those young minds, ripe with insecurities and fears. Delicious."

  "Hmm, how about tomorrow?" Kayo suggested, partly to spite The Smiler, partly because he genuinely wanted to reclaim some semblance of his former life.

  His mother's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "R-really? That's just so soon. Are you sure you're ready?"

  "I think I'm ready," Kayo insisted. "The longer I stay away, the harder it will be to go back."

  "The little fish swims toward the net," The Smiler chuckled. "How brave. How foolish."

  The discussion continued for hours. His mother worried he was pushing himself too hard. His father, arriving home from a brief trip to the office, joined the conversation, suggesting a gradual return—perhaps half-days to start.

  "I'm not an invalid," Kayo protested. "I lost a hand, not my brain."

  "But you gained me," The Smiler reminded him. "And I am so much more interesting than a mere hand."

  Finally, his parents relented, agreeing that Kayo could return to high school the next day. His father would drive him there and pick him up. The school nurse had been briefed on his medication schedule. The principal had assured them that any bullying related to Kayo's injury would be dealt with severely.

  "We just want what's best for you," his mother said, tears glistening in her eyes. "If it gets too overwhelming, you can call us anytime and we'll come get you."

  "I know, Mom," Kayo replied, touched by their concern despite The Smiler's derisive commentary. "I'll be fine. I promise."

  That night, as Kayo lay in his own bed for the first time since the encounter with The Smiler, he stared at the ceiling and addressed the presence in his mind directly.

  "I'm not going to let you win," he said quietly. "Not tomorrow. Not ever."

  "Bold words from someone who doesn't understand what 'ever' truly means," The Smiler replied. "I have existed for centuries, child. I can be patient."

  "Why are you still here?" Kayo demanded. "Why not just... fade away?"

  "Because you fascinate me," The Smiler admitted after a long pause. "In all my existence, no one has ever done what you did. Defeated me. Absorbed me. You intrigue me, Kinoshita Kayo."

  "Is that supposed to make me feel special?"

  "It should. You are unique. And now, with my power flowing through you, you are becoming something new. Something neither human nor... whatever I am."

  Kayo flexed his shadow hand in the darkness, watching how it seemed more solid than it had that morning. "The Seller said I would change."

  "The Seller," The Smiler hissed, genuine hatred in its voice. "Another ancient thing playing games with human lives. It has its own agenda, you know. It always does."

  "What agenda?"

  "That would be telling," The Smiler replied, its tone suddenly playful. "And where's the fun in that? No, I think I'll watch how this unfolds. It's not as if I have anywhere else to be."

  Kayo sighed, rolling onto his side. "Just be quiet so I can sleep. Tomorrow's going to be challenging enough without you distracting me."

  "As you wish," The Smiler acquiesced with mock solemnity. "Pleasant dreams, Kayo. I'll be here when you wake. And the day after that. And the day after that. And the day—"

  "I get it," Kayo interrupted. "Forever. We'll see about that."

  As sleep claimed him, Kayo was aware of The Smiler watching from the shadows of his mind—powerless for now, but patient. Eternally patient. Tomorrow would bring new challenges: school, friends, the first steps toward whatever he was becoming.

  But tonight, at least, he had won another small victory. The Smiler had obeyed his command for silence. It was a beginning.

  In the darkness behind his eyelids, that crimson grin gleamed faintly, waiting.