Almost there.

It was the only thought running through my head. Nothing else mattered. My mind was quiet but for that thought, repeating over and over like a mantra, steady as the beat of my heart, matching every footfall. I pushed myself harder, faster.

I could do this. I was almost there!

The effect shattered as soon as I crossed the finish line. All the sounds I was ignoring—the cheers of my teammates, the heaving of my own breath—rushed back in as I slowed to a stop.

"Time?"

Hikari Sato, the kohai who'd been in charge of timing the run, gave me an apologetic look. "5 minutes, 10 seconds."

"Damn it!" I'd been chasing the goal of a 5-minute mile for a year now. Not only had I not achieved it today, I hadn't even matched my previous record. "And I had such a good feeling about today…"

"Only you would complain about such a good time," Mae Fujita snorted, stretching out her arms as she walked off the run. She'd finished just after I had, and was the only other third-year on the track team this year. All the others had given up club activities to focus more time on studying for entrance exams. Mae, who intended to start working at her family's flower shop after high school, didn't feel the need to study. I, on the other hand, needed the stress relief of a good run if in order to focus on schoolwork.

I shrugged exaggeratedly. "A good time for you, maybe..."

"Oh, shove it, Nakano." Mae rolled her eyes at my teasing, and I suppressed my smile. "Are you coming to karaoke today?"

Karaoke was a Saturday post-practice tradition for the track team, and any other day I would have gone, but—

"I can't today." Casually, I pulled my right foot up for a quick hamstring stretch. "I've got a movie date."

Sato, who'd apparently been listening, gasped excitedly. "With who?"

Mae wasn't fooled for a second. Her dark eyes narrowed, and she folded her arms. "I thought you weren't dating until you graduated."

"It's a double date." I switched legs, sighing in contentment at the stretch and letting the curious tension build a little bit more before ending the ruse. "Me, Naoko, and Zombie Boyfriends From Hell."

Sato paled, looking simultaneously disappointed and ill. Mae, having gone to school with me for over two years, was well-used to my antics and just shook her head in exasperation. "I don't understand how you can watch those movies."

"I don't understand why you don't," I shot back easily as we all headed back towards the locker rooms. "Tests and homework are much less scary when you watch true horror."

Naoko's music club activities wrapped up before mine did, so she was already waiting by the school gates by the time I'd changed out of my track uniform. Her nose was buried in one of the cheesy romance mangas she liked to pretend she didn't read. Her cheeks were flushed a light rosy pink, and she was so absorbed she didn't even notice me approaching.

I waited a good minute for her to notice me before I finally coughed softly. Naoko jumped, wide-eyed, and shoved the manga in her school bag, lightning-quick. Before I could open my mouth to tease her about her reading material, though, she cut me off with an exuberant, "Congratulations!"

I shut my mouth. Blinked. Thought. I hadn't beaten my best time on the track, and even if I had, there's no way Naoko could have known about it before I got out to meet her. Finally, puzzled, I asked, "On what?"

"I saw you got the top score on the science exam," Naoko adjusted her bag on her shoulder and pushed off the wall, walking out the school gate. "You even beat Ishida this time."

"Did I really?" I remembered being pleased with my score, but I hadn't paid attention to the rankings. Akihito Ishida was the representative for Class A, and he and I had been neck and neck on exam results all throughout high school. "I don't usually beat him on science exams. I guess that explains why he was glaring at me earlier…"

"Right, right." Naoko smiled up at the leaves on one of the trees which stood by the school gate. "Glaring." She looked at me, then, like I was being slow to pick up on something. Unused to being on the receiving end of such a look, I furrowed my brow.

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing." Naoko flapped a hand in the air to dismiss the topic, shaking her head, though a smile still played at her lips. Before I could press her further, she changed the topic, beginning a long, detailed recounting of her day. Topics covered included the top five reasons why her brother was a huge brat, an update on which of our classmates had gotten together or been dumped in the past week, and a lengthy, impassioned rant about the uselessness of poetry.

This was why I liked Naoko. I could easily envision her being the most popular girl in our class—she was exceptionally pretty, made good grades, and could play the flute like an angel. But she also liked to talk, and held next to nothing back when she did.

It scared a lot of other people off, but I loved her for it. I often got sick of people being overly polite, never saying what they actually thought. Other people would hint at what they meant, instead of saying it, insisting on doing everything in some roundabout way out of a sense of politeness. I never had to worry about that with Naoko.

"We've still got an hour before the movie," Naoko observed, checking her watch, then pointing at the arcade adjoining the theater. "Wanna hit up the games while we wait?"

I shrugged and followed her into the arcade. It took my eyes a moment to adjust to the dim light of the arcade, but once accustomed I began automatically scanning the rows of machines for Tetris, one of the only games I was actually good at. Naoko snagged my arm before I could escape, though.

"They have Goblin City!" She was tugging me over to a game, rummaging in her bag for coins with her other hand. "You have to help me with this one. Takuo's got in on his console at home, and I can never beat it. I always get a quiz game or a puzzle game and it knocks me out."

Takuo was Naoko's little brother, and his enthusiasm for the game did not inspire my confidence. I peered at the machine skeptically, taking in the over-the-top artwork. It all looked very sword-and-sorcerer. "It looks like one of those cheesy side-scroller dungeon games."

Naoko shook her head, putting in coins to start the game. "It's got a bit of everything but sidescrolling. That's what makes it so fun." She pressed start, and the opening animation played, welcoming us to Goblin City and informing us that our seven heroes had to beat the Goblin King to free the town. "Takuo can't even beat me all the time, because it has a bunch of mini games even he's not good at."

"Does seven heroes mean seven lives?" I asked. On screen, the Goblin King was spinning a wheel to determine the first mini game.

"No, it's the best of seven. Lose four mini games, and you lose the game." The wheel stopped spinning, and Naoko grinned. "Yes, a racing game!"

Naoko beat the racing game easily, but then lost a tennis game and a shooting game back to back. "Are you sure you got close to beating this?" I teased her as the animated Goblin King mocked her and announced that it was his turn now.

"Oh, shut up." The next game was a quiz game, and Naoko groaned. "Ugh, like I don't get enough of quizzes at school. Hey, which of these isn't a noble gas?"

"Fe. That's iron." I managed to refrain from adding that that was obvious. With my assistance, Naoko was able to win the quiz game. She lost the fighting game that followed by a narrow margin, putting the score at 3 to 3. The Goblin King spun the wheel for the final time, and Naoko watched it intently, fingers drumming on the plastic near the controls.

"Three Seven!" The Goblin King announced. Naoko sighed and stepped aside as the Goblin King added a few more insults about her intelligence, nodding at the controls.

"Quick, you take over."

"What's Three Seven?" I asked, reluctantly taking control of the joystick.

"It's like Tetris, but with math." Naoko said, in the tone of voice one might use to describe a particularly unappetizing vegetable. "You'll do great."

I did do great, once I got the hang of the rules for eliminating blocks. It was quite a bit more challenging than Tetris, though. If the game had lasted any longer than a minute, I probably would have lost, but I was able to clear enough blocks to beat the Goblin King by a hair.

"Yes! Teamwork!" Naoko cheered as the ending animation played, depicting the Goblin King's grisly death at the hands of our seven heroes. "And look, we made the leaderboard!"

She was technically correct, but only just. "The bottom of the leaderboard."

"Shut up, we're awesome." Naoko's smile wouldn't quit. "Go on, put our names in."

I considered the limited space for a moment, before typing in an amalgam. It only seemed fitting, since we'd beaten the game together. Naoko read the result over my shoulder.

"RENAOKO. I like it." She checked her watch and grinned. "Are you ready for Zombie Boyfriends From Hell?"

Though the title and marketing for the movie had been campy, the movie itself played the horror pretty straight. The special effects were particularly well done, and the result was that Zombie Boyfriends From Hell was arguably the scariest movie I'd ever seen.

This didn't affect me much personally, but Naoko left the theater looking pale and jittery. She kept looking around, like she was concerned someone was trying to sneak up on her.

"Are you okay?"

Naoko flinched a little at my question, but she tried to play it off, waving off my concern. "Fine, fine! That was nothing—" But her denials were cut off when some drunken salarymen burst into raucous laughter halfway down the block. The sudden noise startled her so much that she jumped half a foot in the air, clutching at her heart with wide eyes.

"Yeah, okay, scaredy-cat." I linked my arm with hers securely, shooting her a reassuring smile. "Let me walk you home before you have a heart attack."

It showed how much the movie had gotten to her that Naoko didn't even protest. Instead she sighed, looking embarrassed, but grateful. "Thank you."

"We're already being smarter than the protagonists of the movie," I observed, keeping my voice light as we left the shopping district and headed through residential neighborhoods. I hoped making fun of the movie would put Naoko a little more at ease. "I mean—going into the basement? Alone?"

"Right?!" Naoko was only too happy to join in. "That's, like, rule number one!"

"And I don't know about you, but I think not telling your girlfriend you've been bitten by a zombie is a dumpable offense."

By the time I got her home, Naoko was doing better. The tension in her shoulders and around her eyes had dissipated, and she was smiling easily again. I stopped at her house's garden gate and raised an eyebrow at the short walk to her front door.

"Think you can make it alone from here?"

"Ha, ha. I think I'll be fine." A little bit of the tension from earlier returned to her eyes as she glanced behind me at the darkening street. "Will you be okay walking home alone?"

"It's a five minute walk through the park," I said, voice dry. I'd made the trip dozens of times before, at all hours of the day and night, so I repeated Naoko's own words back to her. "I think I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?"

She really was worried. "Would it make you feel better if I called you when I got home?"

"Please!" Naoko blurted, a little too loud. Looking abashed, she continued more quietly, "I know I'm being silly, but…"

"I'll call you, then," I promised, turning away from her home and towards the park across the street. "Ten minutes from now, tops."

"Don't let the zombies catch you before then!" Naoko called after me.

I scoffed. "Zombies can't catch me." I tipped her a sly wink over my shoulder. "I'm too fast."

And it was true. I might not be the fastest runner on the track team, but I was more than confident in my ability to outrun the average creep or would-be mugger—not that I had to worry about either of those in this little neighborhood park. I was certainly faster than the lumbering, stumbling zombies we'd just seen on screen.

So I wasn't scared as Naoko waved me off and I strolled into the park in the dying light. The sun was almost completely down by now, but I would be home in five minutes, even walking at a leisurely pace. I could make it in two if I ran. But it was a warm, pleasant night on the border of spring and summer, and I was happy to take my time. The wind in the trees was a soothing sound, like waves on a shore, and carried the smell of clean earth and fresh greenery. I could even make out a few stars, visible despite the light pollution of the city.

When the leaves rustled the first time, I paid it no attention. It was just the wind, surely. But when a twig snapped, I paused, craning my head around to peer cautiously at the treeline.

It was probably just an animal. Or, more likely, my mind was playing tricks on me, the natural result of walking home alone in the dark after watching a scary movie. Whatever it was, the noise had disrupted my feeling of peace. I no longer felt so brave and untouchable alone in the park. Even though I knew my fear was ridiculous, I picked up my pace to a jog, glancing over my shoulder uneasily, eyeing the long shadows of the trees.

That was my mistake, apparently.

It happened so quickly that I didn't see what happened. One moment I was scolding myself for being paranoid, running from the empty path behind me, and the next I was on the ground, pressed into the hard stone by a hard, immovable weight. I was so surprised and disoriented that I didn't even struggle, didn't even scream, as sharp pain bit into my upper arm.

And then, black.

—

I blinked up at the ceiling, puzzled. My mouth was dry. The lights above me were fluorescent, and bright, and there was something very wrong with that, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it.

The first, sluggish thought that went through my head was, I've been bitten by a zombie.

I definitely remembered zombies, and there was a dull ache in my arm. The bite, my foggy, drunken mind insisted. But that wasn't right. If I just thought about it, I could figure it out, but it was hard to think much at all. My head was oddly light, and I wanted to massage my temples, but I couldn't move my hands. Point of fact, I could hardly move at all, which was… not right. Right?

My neck was somewhat mobile. With some difficulty I managed to raise my head, turning my eyes from the bright fluorescents to get a good look at my body.

Bound. Strapped to a metal table with metal manacles.

The wrongness of that jolted me out of my daze. My drug-induced daze, I realized, because there was no other explanation for my scattered thoughts and my present location, restrained on a medical gurney.

I tugged on my wrists, and my ankles, testing the strength of the shackles, but they held fast. Heart beating wildly, I craned my neck, trying to get a sense for where the hell I was.

Maybe I'd been in an accident on the way home. Maybe I was injured, and I was taken to the hospital. Maybe they'd just given me some painkillers, and restrained me so I didn't hurt myself further.

It wasn't a terrible explanation. There were shiny metal cabinets and a counter with gleaming silver instruments I couldn't make out to my left, and more of the same on the right, plus a doorway and an empty rolling tray just inches from the gurney where I lay. With all the equipment, the bland beige and white of the walls and ceiling, the lingering smell of cleaning supplies and antiseptic, the room could easily have belonged in a hospital, but for one thing.

It was quiet.

The only sound was my harsh, panicked breaths and the rattling of the restraints as I struggled. There was no beeping of equipment, no loudspeaker requesting doctors to report to one place or another, no muffled conversations of nurses or doctors or patients in the hall or in nearby rooms.

This was no hospital.

I didn't know what else it could be, but I wasn't keen to find out. I didn't know where I was, or how I got here, but it wasn't home and the journey had involved being drugged, which was enough information for me to know that I wanted to get out of this place, now.

I craned my head to see where my struggling had got me. The skin on my wrists was angry red and swollen, but the restraints were still secure. And tight, too. No matter how hard I yanked, or twisted, there would be no pulling my hand free. Not without breaking my hand.

For a moment I considered trying it. But even if I could stand the pain and manage to free one of my hands, it would then be too mangled and broken to open the restraints on my other wrist, and around my ankles.

I was trapped.

With no other options, I tried my last resort. Best case scenario, I'd get out of here. Worst case scenario… well, at least I'd know what I was dealing with.

"HELP!" I screamed as loud as I possibly could, difficult though it was while laying down. I twisted my face toward the door, hoping the sound would carry better down the hall. "Help, please! Is anyone there?!"

I paused and listened, holding my breath in case I missed any noises out in the hall… but there was nothing. I took a deep breath and tried again. And again. And again.

I could only sustain the panicked urgency in my shouts for a few minutes. After a while, my cries grew more robotic, as my voice tired and as more and more time passed without any sign that anyone had heard me. Eventually I stopped altogether, thirsty and tired and hurting, terrified and confused and powerless.

Then, at last, footsteps.

I had begun to doze on the table, and at first I shook my head, straining my ears to make sure that it wasn't just my imagination. But no, it wasn't. Light, distant footsteps echoed down the hall, growing nearer every moment.

I opened my mouth, then shut it, swallowing heavily.

Those didn't sound like the urgent or wandering footfalls I would expect from someone investigating a distant cry for help. No, they sounded more like the leisurely, self-assured stroll of someone who'd kidnapped and drugged a high school girl, and knew exactly where she was.

I stared at the door, heart racing, and wondered what to do. Watch and wait? Pretend to be asleep? Beg? Bargain? There were too many unknowns, too much uncertainty. In the end, I watched with silent trepidation and a wildly beating heart as the door swung slowly open.

The thing was short.

That was my first thought, because it was a thing. Not a zombie, but definitely not human, either.

It was built like an ape, hunched and broad-set, maybe four feet tall. The thing had a bulbous, misshapen head framed by huge, bat-like ears. The top of its head was bald, but from the sides it sported limp, greasy green hair. Its skin was sallow purple-gray and wrinkled, a feature exaggerated all the more because it was grinning at me with a mouth full of long, sharp teeth. But more terrifying than any of its abnormalities were its eyes: dark, beady things that glittered with malice and, perhaps worse, intelligence.

"You caused quite the ruckus in here, Ms. Nakano," the thing admonished lightly as it closed the door. Its voice was simultaneously high and gravelly, a combination I wouldn't have guessed was possible just minutes ago. "It was a very near miss. If you'd started wailing a few minutes earlier, we might have had a rebellion on our hands."

The thought that I might have been rescued had I started shouting just a little bit sooner stung, but I seized on the information the thing's comment provided me. First, its use of "we" meant more than one captor. "Rebellion" meant other people, potentially also prisoners. And finally...

"You know my name." I had meant it to be an accusation, but the words came out weak, shaking with the surprise of what that implied. I had the horrible suspicion that the thing hadn't simply looked in my school bag to peek at the name written on my notebooks.

The thing's knife-toothed smile broadened. "Yes, that's right. In point of fact, Ms. Nakano, I know more about you than just about anyone…" It paused, seemingly for dramatic effect. "Including yourself."

That was concerning. I highly doubted it was true, but it did mean at the very least that this thing had set out to take me in particular, not just any high school girl out after dark.

It took enormous effort to keep my voice steady. "What do you want from me?"

"From you? Very little." The thing smiled and spread its arms, a gesture that might have looked generous on a creature whose arms did not end in long, clawed fingers. "The real question is what I want for you."

It paused, clearly hoping I'd ask the question. I clenched my jaw shut, and the thing tutted, shaking its head. "Stubborn and ungrateful. With any other subject I might be disappointed, but with you it only excites me more! Just one more promising similarity between you and your cousin."

At first I had latched on to the thing's particularly foreboding use of the word subject, but now I narrowed my eyes, confused. "I don't have a cousin."

The thing chuckled. It was an awful sound, like a fork rattling around in a garbage disposal. "It's as I said, Ms. Nakano. I know more about you than you know about yourself." It paused again, seeming to smugly relish its knowledge. "You do have a cousin. One Yusuke Urameshi."

It spoke the name with relish and awe, not unlike how some of the girls in my class uttered the names of particularly attractive pop stars. The first name meant nothing to me, but the last name…

The thing smirked, flashing its teeth. "Yes, that's right. Your mother never talks about her disgrace of a younger sister, does she? Disowned at fourteen for getting knocked up. The result was your cousin, Yusuke."

I hated for this monster to be right about anything, but my mother's family name had been Urameshi before she married my father, and I'd learned from the occasional passive-aggressive comment from my mother and grandparents that my mother did have an estranged younger sister. So maybe I did have a cousin, after all.

"...Is he here, too?" I asked, even though I guessed from the longing in the thing's voice that he wasn't.

"No." The thing scowled immediately, wrinkles deepening. "He's far too well-protected… for now. I'll get my hands on him eventually. In the meantime, I'll have to make do with the closest available substitute." Its eyes fell on me. "You, Ms. Nakano, have the honor of being part of an experiment that will change the very future of the human race."

"May I decline this honor?"

The thing looked half annoyed, half fondly amused. "Your consent is quite unnecessary, Ms. Nakano." The thing crossed further into the room, catching hold of the rolling tray near the gurney and wheeling it out of sight. An occasional clatter sounded as it continued, in the tone of one starting an academic lecture, "Now, your cousin is an unusual specimen. Most humans can only access their spiritual energy through innate talent, or through years of intense training."

I didn't know what that meant, but it was hard to focus on parsing its meaning as the thing wheeled the tray back over to my side. There was an odd, bulky-looking instrument that looked a bit like a calculator, several small syringes, a defibrillator, and a single pillow. The last item seemed out of place among the others, and I stared at it, puzzled. Was I to be made comfortable while this monster jabbed me with needles?

The thing smiled as it followed my gaze, and it picked up the pillow with one clawed hand. "Your cousin took a most fascinating shortcut to access his spiritual powers." The thing leaned close, so I could smell the foul breath from its too-wide smile. "Let's see if we can't replicate his results."

When I was about ten, I got the stomach flu. It was the worst illness I'd ever experienced. I was achy and in pain and nauseous, and I vomited dozens of times. At first it was horrible—bile rising up my throat and through my nose, foul smelling and traumatic. But after a few days of horrible pain and discomfort, I learned to look forward to the times I threw up. It became a mercy, in a way, because despite the discomfort, I always felt just the littlest bit better after I emptied my stomach. Compared to the constant pain and misery of the illness, that feeling of relief was a sweet mercy.

That's kind of what it felt like to die.

Not the first time, of course. The first time, I panicked and twitched as the thing pressed the pillow firmly into my face, suffocating me. I tried once again to escape my restraints, to turn my head and dislodge the pillow, but the thing was too strong. My lungs burned. The sense of panic built the longer and longer I went without breath. I stopped moving, hoping that conserving energy would make what little breath I had left last longer. Maybe if I went limp the thing would think he'd succeeded, and I could breathe again. But it didn't work. The pillow pressed down further, unrelenting. The edges of my vision turned red, then faded to darkness.

I don't remember dying that first time. I don't know if my soul ever managed to leave my body before I was shocked awake. The electricity set my still heart to pumping again, and I gasped for air as my limbs shook and twitched from the shock.

I couldn't focus on the monster then. All I could think about was the pain, all through my body, in my mind, in my soul. It was worse than the burning in my lungs, the uncontrollable trembling ot my limbs. It was the monster had reached his clawed hand into my chest and squeeze my heart, my spirit, and then twisted it, without mercy. Consumed by the agony, I barely registered a single low, mechanical beep over the sound of my wheezing. The thing sighed gustily.

"I suppose it was too much to hope that I'd succeed on the first try." There was a dull, metallic clatter. Then the thing loomed over me once again. "Oh, well. Try, try again!"

And try again he did. The second and third times were much like the first. I resisted. I panicked. I lived. I thought maybe the thing was waiting a little longer to resuscitate me each time, but it was hard to keep track, because suffocating and dying made it very difficult to track time. And every time, the agony.

The fourth time, after my vision faded to black, I saw a warm, welcoming light. I reached out to grasp it, gladly—but before I could touch it I was jerked back to life again, shuddering and shaking.

I was sick on the table, barely able to turn my head so I didn't choke on my own vomit. I sobbed and shook as the thing tutted and wiped the table clean. I think I might have begged him to stop, but there was no telling if the pleas were leaving my mouth or screamed silently in my mind.

The fifth time I got closer. I welcomed death, and I tried to hurry, because somehow I knew that if only I could touch that light, I would escape forever, and the thing couldn't drag me back anymore. The pain would be over, forever. I reached for the light. I strained for it.

I wasn't quick enough.

The sixth time, I screamed with frustration as I woke again on the table, tears streaming down my face. I wanted to die. I wanted to die, I told the monster. Why couldn't it just let me die?

Before, I'd been begging the thing to stop hurting me, stop killing me, but now I just wanted it all to stop. I begged the thing to kill me, permanently, to just let me stay dead. But it didn't matter anyway. The thing didn't listen before, and it didn't listen now.

The seventh time there was no warm, bright light. I woke abruptly, not on the table, but above it. I floated, in shock, as the thing glanced between my pale, motionless body on the table and the pocket watch it held in one clawed hand. It waited a full minute, then reached once more for the paddles of the defibrillator.

"NO!"

I swung forward, trying to knock the paddles out of its hands, but it was useless. I passed right through, like smoke, and in the next moment I was yanked back to awareness, screaming awake on the table for the seventh time.

This time the monitor the thing waved over me gave three merry little chirps. The monster hummed, pleased. "Well, Ms. Nakano, it seems seven is your lucky number." It chuckled. The device clattered onto the table again and I flinched automatically, anticipating being smothered again. Instead the thing pressed a needle into a vein, and against my will my eyes began to flutter shut. "Yes, get some rest now, Ms. Nakano. You did well. And soon, the real fun can begin."