text: [Themes: horror, horror]
  
  Our tent was actually rather spacious, and would easily accommodate our entire group, so we chose to use it, rather than trust a dilapidated apartment complex not to collapse on us. Setting it up took a while, it was one of those fancy ones with a metal infrastructure and grounding poles; we laid out some tarps and had it up as a team before losing daylight completely. Having a small lamp inside made it feel cozy, like the inside of an oven.
  
  Winds were fierce tonight, but our tent held, anchored to the ground. We slept huddled together in a mass, sailors included, guarding each other from the harsh environment. I found it fairly easy to drift to sleep, surprisingly, despite the circumstances. Guess that hard times do make a group bond closer.
  
  We woke up to the gentle warmth of the sun filtering its way into the tent. I was one of the first ones out, stretching and yawning as the sun beat down, surveilling. The fading remnants of a black, coal-like dust scattered as the sun rose, dissipating into the air as if it had never existed.
  
  "Strange," I thought. "Doesn't seem like natural behavior for soot, where'd it come from anyways?"
  
  Today was the day that we would arrive at Itaki's home, and the excitement was palpable. From what he'd told us, his home was ridiculously beautiful, at least before nuclear armageddon, and he assured us that it would still be intact. I was pretty doubtful, and confused as to how he could be so sure, but hope does strange things to men. He glided at the front of the group, seeming to know the way even before Ogasawara gave him instructions. He was coming home.
  
  A deeply unsettling sky had settled in by the time we'd made it within eyeshot of Itaki's home, which rested low to the ground, mostly in pieces. The air smelled strongly of rain; we hadn't come well prepared for a thunderstorm, so we all picked up the pace, practically breaking into sprints as the first few water droplets broke from the sky. Luckily, Itaki's house was still partially covered, so we were able to take shelter.
  
  Itaki's home was very traditionally Japanese, boasting two stories supported by darkly stained wood that, despite the obvious wear and age, still help up fairly well. The straw matting within had not preserved itself nearly as well. It was split and upheaved into small prickly coils, and wildly off-color, particularly in the corners of the rooms. We huddled in one of these corners, hiding in the Itaki family's multipurpose room. Itaki took a moment to breathe, and ran his fingers across the wooden walls. He purposefully hid his face from view, I assumed to save face. I couldn't imagine what he was feeling.
  
  The sky darkened steadily, despite it being midday at most. The rain didn't want to let up either, making small puddles in the matting that released a rather moldy stench into the air. Dark, black clouds hung over the city like curtains, and grew steadily wider, enveloping the sun that had been warming us up. Accordingly, I slipped on my windbreaker. Rain was not unlike Japan's natural climate, back in the thirties and forties. The wind whipped up too, nearly taking off Dr. Blythe's hat. At this, he shouted:
  
  "Stay close! We don't know how bad this storm is going to get!"
  
  Something must have heard him; a magnificent bout of thunder followed right after, shaking our spirits. This storm was almost... aggressive.
  
  There was a familiar sound, like sifting sand, something I'd grown used to listening to at night. It grew steadily from the opposite side of the room, and that's when IT happened. Itaki grabbed my arm with white bony fingers as the shadows that had been seared into the walls began to shift, and peel themselves off the walls.
  
  "What the actual FUCK is that?!" yelled Ogasawara.
  
  They stumbled towards us like newborn babes, as if they were learning to walk for the first time. It was plain to see why. They seemed to be made of some sort of ashy material that crumbled and reformed with every step. Dr. Blythe grabbed my collar, shoving me through the nearby doorway towards the entrance to Itaki's home and into the rain. It took a moment for my legs to function, frozen from shock.
  
  Qara came next, followed by everyone except Ogasawara. I started to speak but Dr. Blythe cut me off.
  
  "He's dealing with it! We need to go!" he shouted. I didn't consider the implications of leaving him behind then, instead running to the entrance of the house. More of the ashen humanoids blocked the way, flaking and disintegrating as they walked. Someone threw a rock at them, which blew a hole straight through the shoulder of the first creature. It filled in almost immediately, regenerating itself while the creature didn't even slow down. They entered Itaki's home, and that's when all hell broke loose.
  
  The smoky cloud cover sprouted thin cracks and let loose a bolt of lightning, which streaked down to us in slow motion. When it hit the floor between us and the creatures, there was an explosion of light that seared my eyes. It felt like receiving a full-body light sunburn. When I was able to open my burnt eyelids, I was laying in the middle of the entrance, a smoking crater just a couple feet in front of me. All of the shadows had gone as well. I picked myself up on shaky legs, and took a few steps, feeling increasingly nauseous. A quick look at my hands revealed they were completely blistered, along with my arms.
  
  The way was clear, and I grabbed the others, who were stumbling towards the exit, with one exception. Itaki kneeled in the ashes, face in his hands.
  
  "Itaki! We need to get the fuck out of here NOW!" He turned his head slowly, shaking it.
  
  "No, James. I cannot run from this." The ashes begin sifting around his body once more, planning to claim him for the walls, no doubt. This would be the only chance I'd have to grab him and escape with the others.
  
  > leave him behind
  His decision was his own; I turned and ran out of his home, watching as the ashen creatures approached him softly, like they wanted to embrace him. Itaki held his arms out in return, greeting the figures. I turned away, just before he began screaming, bloodcurdling screams that I'd never thought human lips capable of eliciting. I vowed then I'd not let them catch me under any circumstances.
  
  I spotted the rest of the crew, who'd gotten a ridiculous head start. They were difficult to follow in the intensity of the storm, rain stinging my eyes and fog obscuring their movements. I finally lost track of Qara's orange jacket and lost my bearings completely. Shinagawa District became an interweaving maze of concrete and destroyed abodes. I attempted to use a building I'd dubbed the "Church" as a marker, due to its steeple-like architecture, but minutes after wandering off in another direction, I ran into the Church again.
  
  "Maybe, it just looks similar?" I thought. I took a red string from my shirt and tied it around a hold in a piece of rebar. With this easy trick, I'd know if I found this landmark again. I searched for about thirty minutes, and I'd almost forgotten about the landmark until the steeple peeked itself through the fog like a knife. I ran outer to the rebar, and sure enough, a piece of red string hung off the metal.
  
  I let out a disappointed breath, and decided to rest inside the Church to recover, pushing its gargantuan walls open, one of them became permanently stuck open and I slipped through the gap. The Church had not seen its choir in five decades, and the damage was evident. Nearly all of the wood pieces had some sort of moldy defect. One of the pews near the front was intact, in mint condition, and on it a man in dark robes sat. I instinctively turned to run, but he held up a hand in protest.
  
  "Wait, James. We have much to discuss," he spoke. Despite being twenty feet away, I could hear him whisper.
  
  "Hey man, who the hell are you? And how do you know my name?" I asserted.
  
  "Who I am will become self-evident, James. As to how I know your name, well that's easy, I know you." he stood up and turned around to reveal the face of... the Chinese customs officer who'd evaluated my paperwork. I choked on my next words.
  
  "Uhm... he never spoke English, though. Look, I'll admit I'm not usually one to put stock in demons, but this is a little much for even me."
  
  "I'm ready to believe that too, actually. Which is why, you'll be taking my power."
  
  "I'm not interested in demon powers, thanks. They're already responsible for the deaths of my friends."
  
  "Very noble of you. Tell me then, do these look like the powers of a demon?" He held out a palm facing the ceiling and began to distort the air around it. The more I stared at it, the worse the distortion became. It formed a small orb, rotating and rippling with ethereal energy. He waved his other hand gently over the church, and it repaired itself before my eyes. Decrepit church pews became as polished as the one the robed man was sitting on. Rebar straightened itself, and concrete reassembled itself.
  
  "I'm dead, aren't I? That's why you're here? That's why those things aren't around anymore?"
  
  "No, not yet. You're not dead yet, but you will be, if you don't touch my hand." He stretched his arm out further, smiling softly as the energy hummed.
  
  > touch the Orb
  I reached out and grasped his hand; if it were really a dream, then hell may as well go along with it. My hand passed through the orb like there was nothing there, and his hand tightened around mine like a firm handshake. There was a brief moment where nothing happened, and then my vision began blurring and filling up with light.
  
  > Continue
  A great chalkboard hovered before me.
  
  On it, I saw things I recognized: tiny markings, representations. They moved ever so gently across the board, the chalk moving exactly as it should.
  
  Some of them did not move so nicely. To say I saw them would be an understatement. They stabbed at my consciousness with little toothpicks of annoyance. Rude. I brought a finger up to dispose of them, smudging the largest one under my thumb like a rebellious ant. They were fast, and frustrating, and that's when I felt something else in my hand.
  
  Chalk.
  
  The thing to do next was as instinctual as breathing itself. I lowered the chalk tip to the board, scribbling out drawings that would handle my bidding for me. They flowed seamlessly, and were able to multitask far better than my lumbering hands could. As I snuffed out the abominations, the pricking ceased. I sighed deeply, grateful to be at peace.