Death's Children. Chapter 1: Every Drop Holds Its Own Dark
Hiiie! So, I’ve decided to start sharing the text of my book with you. I hope you don't mind? Just a heads-up: there will be mentions of death later on! Good luck!
"Death always arrives unbidden. Or perhaps, she has been walking beside us all along... merely biding her time to claim us, choosing the very path by which she would unravel our lives. The unknown terrifies, yet it pulls us closer with an aching gravity. We know not what awaits when the thread of life is severed. Shall we find ourselves in heaven or hell, begin anew in rebirth, or simply fade into the hollow silence of the void?"
"This yearning, this bittersweet ache of anticipation, becomes our secret companion. One way or another, we are all waiting for our end... We know death is always close, yet we choose to look away. Perhaps, to our own peril? Everyone holds their own vision of what lies beyond, and Matsui Tsukiye was no exception. He found a quiet solace in pondering the dance of life and death, often slipping away to the library to find a book that might unravel the mysteries of the great hereafter."
"What awaits beyond the final breath? Hellish flames to scorch the soul to ash, leaving only screams of agony? Or heavenly skies filled with angels who inspire more dread than peace? Rebirth, perhaps? A thousand questions swirled in his mind... and the only way to know was to die.
Every religion viewed death through its own lens, yet none could captivate him. Not until the thought took root: that we are all but the children of 'Death.' And when our hour strikes, she simply comes to take us home."
A disgruntled scoff escaped Jun Konomi as the boy’s raven-black hair spilled onto her paper. She tried to nudge him away, but the unruly strand drifted back as if it belonged there. Oblivious, Matsui remained in his dreamworld. Determined, she delivered a second, more spirited shove.
Tsukiye gave a start, his shoulder jerking as he slowly, almost painfully, lifted his head from the wooden surface."Mmm, what’s the matter?" he groaned, resting his head against his elbow. He arched his back in a feline stretch, reminiscent of a cat greeting its master at feeding time, then readjusted himself to stare at his classmate with a look of faint fatigue."I realize you’ve finished, but you might show some consideration for the rest of us. It’s beyond me how such a chronic sleeper maintains top marks... You spend nearly every hour in a daze."
She grumbled under her breath, convinced he was a closet scholar who burnt the midnight oil, explaining his endless Need for rest.
"Yeah, yeah… sorry." The youth brushed his hair back and pulled out a hair tie, only to drift right back to sleep. Time slipped away unnoticed, and the double-period exam finally drew to a close. The bell sliced through the silence of the room, forcing the boy to straighten up and rub his eyes. Feeling refreshed, Matsui packed his bag and headed for his swimming lesson. Brilliant sunlight flooded the hallway with a warm, pleasant glow—though it stung the eyes of anyone bold enough to look directly at the sun.
A faint smile touched his lips as he passed the other students, watching them during their break. Over there, a group of freshmen huddled together, trying to figure out where their next class was. Elsewhere, a girl stood with a textbook pressed to her chest, gazing out the window with hope, likely dreaming of a future that felt dazzling to her. They all seemed so happy, so full of life and boundless expectation.
Heading down the stairs, the dark-haired boy ran into his friend, Sugimoto Kowai, the captain of their swimming team. Kowai was a giant of a guy, standing nearly seven-foot-one—which was exactly why, when he rushed to meet his friend, he completely forgot about the low doorway. The result was inevitable. A dull thud echoed as his crown slammed into the crossbar. Sugimoto bent over, rubbing the back of his head, before stepping back to straighten up. He had already changed into dark blue trunks, sporting the school emblem of a rabbit clutching arrows.
"Look who it is! Hey there, pal!" Without holding back, Kowai instantly pulled his friend into a crushing hug and ruffled his hair. He beamed with a wide grin, radiating the pure joy of a child opening a long-awaited Christmas gift.
Tsukiye realized he was about to be squeezed to death. He patted his friend’s chest, and Sugimoto carefully let go. "You’re still the same man of few words, aren't you? Hmm…" Sugimoto ducked his head, leaning in until their noses were practically touching. He looked at Matsui with pure, beaming happiness, seeing right through him as if he were made of glass.
"You pumped for the show? Our little following is gonna dig the new song, I just know it," Kowai grinned, the anticipation clear on his face. They didn't have many fans—mostly just people who stumbled upon them—but there was a warmth in that small crowd that made performing special. It felt personal.
Matsui let out a smirk and a mock eye-roll. Was he ready? Always. These gigs were his release. The loud, aggressive music was his only outlet for the agony he’d carried for years… the pain his own flesh and blood never bothered to notice. "Promise me one thing: try not to break your guitar this time."
"No promises, man. There's no telling what'll happen during the set. The music fills me with so much bliss, I lose my mind!"
"Fine, but don't expect me to shell out for a replacement guitar, Kowai!"
"Fair enough, pal. Let's show them what we've got!" He took a seat on the bench and sipped the lemonade he and his grandmother brewed every Thursday. His legs swayed to the beat of a song only he could hear in his heart.
There was something of a giant toddler about Sugimoto Kowai. He carried a radiant, restless energy, reminiscent of a young child eager for his first day of school. He was constantly picking up animated movies or bags of toys; he’d spend a year enjoying them himself before passing them on to kids at the local shelter.
Sugimoto was the type to lie in a pile of toys for hours, gazing at the ceiling and daydreaming. He’d get so lost in thought it felt like he was disconnected from reality. Matsui saw how easily he slipped into stories and how well he bonded with kids. He’d be a natural as an early childhood educator! But he’d been rejected for training over and over. People kept telling him it wasn't a man's profession and that he wasn't fit to look after children.
Time flew by while Kowai rambled about swimming; students came and went, some even stopping for a quick drink at the store. Suddenly, that wretched bell shrieked, making them jump. It was a piercing, painful noise. Much as they wanted to race, they knew things would go south if Coach Ken Zhi Tomotsu was in a foul mood. His temper was legendary among the swimmers.
Outside, they found the rest of the team near the locker room showers.
"Do you reckon Tomotsu-sensei had a row with the wife this morning?" one boy asked, scratching his brow.
"Your guess is as good as mine. That wife of his is a major micromanager. I’ve no idea how those kids cope; I’d have jumped off a bridge by now," his friend in the red trunks said with a yawn. "Apparently, she went ballistic because he took some girl to lunch. He was just trying to help! He found her crying at a bus stop and wanted to comfort her. That’s it!"
"Tell me about it. I’d have bolted years ago. He’s clearly sticking it out for his daughter. Lady Nauro is gorgeous, but she’s got a toxic streak… Honestly, how the earth tolerates people like that is beyond me."
They made their way to the pool, where their instructor was lost in a trance. It looked like he was watching a film of his own life playing out in the air. Ken Zhi was prone to these lapses, drifting away from reality. He was an odd man, but in the most endearing way possible.
He was the type to muse over the most random topics—no idea was too ridiculous as long as there was a logic to uncover. Tomotsu stood up and shook out his arms, then marched toward the boys, who were lined up with military precision.
"Greetings, Sensei!" they shouted together, bowing low. His gaze, practiced in reading a room in a heartbeat, scanned the rank. He seemed to account for every absence—the slackers, the competitors, the transfers—before clicking his mental files shut and getting down to business.
Pleased with the quiet attentiveness, Ken Zhi stepped out. At his signal, the group divided into fours without a sound. They knew the drill: twenty laps of hard work before the usual end-of-class downtime.
As they set off, the water became their sanctuary. It felt as though the ripples were shouting encouragement, pushing them toward greatness. They answered the call, their pace quickening with every stroke. From his vantage point, Ken Zhi watched them like a seasoned captain, glowing with paternal pride. One boy was a natural merman; another was like a willow branch, yielding but never snapping from fatigue. The third moved with a fierce intensity, a mortal desafying a god, and the fourth was a shark, silent and predatory.
Their times were as fleeting as sea foam, so consistent they were nearly identical. When the formal training ended, the tension broke, and it was time for fun. The youngest boy paddled over to Sugimoto and gave him a nudge. "Up for an underwater sprint?" Elio asked with a grin.
"Deal! Loser buys the pizza!" Kowai yelled before ducking under. Elio counted them down, and five seconds later, both dived, driven by the heat of the race.
Underwater, Kowai felt a wave of relief. He moved with a fish-like grace, enjoying the sudden peace of the deep. It was quiet, surreal, almost dreamlike. But as he reached the bottom, a strange box caught his eye. It rested on the edge of the floor like a relic, a secret treasure tucked away by a royal magician.
Sugimoto pulled himself closer, his pulse echoing the rhythmic hum of the pool. The box was ornate, a checkered pattern decorated with card suits like floral engravings. With a quick twist of the handle, the lid flew open. A fox-like jack-in-the-box leaped out, its wooden arms outstretched.
His blood ran cold as the jester’s empty gaze locked onto his own. He scrambled to push away, but his limbs were frozen. It was as if he’d been shackled by thin air. As the last of his breath escaped in a trail of bubbles, terror took hold.
The jester’s vacant grin held a sickening sense of triumph. Kowai attempted a shout, but his mouth filled with brine and bubbles. He could feel his life force slipping away as the water turned leaden and freezing. From the depths, silver chains surged upward, slithering like serpents to bind him tight, leaving no room for flight.
He thrashed against the bonds, but his strength failed him.
The world dissolved into a gray smear. Before the blackness took him, he caught one final glimpse of the jester’s warped, mocking smile. Then, total darkness… His frame went limp, his flesh fading to a ghostly blue as the spark in his eyes went out. Like a piece of unwanted debris, the water heaved his body upward.
The moment he broke the surface, Sugimoto’s eyes flew open. It was as if the drowning had never happened, a mere flicker of a dream. Had his mind truly conjured such a vivid, twisted joke? Choking back a cough, he watched his teammates playing lightheartedly in the sun. From behind, Elio’s joyful shouting reached him—the boy was already celebrating his win and listing his favorite toppings for their trip to Mythical Stars.
Leaving the watery depths behind, Sugimoto felt a chill seep into his very bones. It was a savage, grasping cold, like a winter wraith laying claim to his skin. With a heavy, sighing breath, he made his way to the coach to request an early exit.
"Sensei," he said, wiping his forehead. "Permission to go change? I’m feeling a bit worn out." After a curt nod, Kowai retreated to the shower room. Surrounded by mirrors veiled in steam, he found his solitude. The stream pouring from the metal serpent's maw was just as freezing as the pool, but it felt different—pure, almost sacred. He stood there, face upturned and eyes shut tight, fighting to drown out the thoughts of his ordeal.
He killed the water and moved to his locker. After drying off with his red towel, he reached for his change of clothes. The room was quiet, save for the distant, hollow hum of the swimming area. He threw on a gray tank top followed by a blue shirt, which he left unbuttoned. Stepping into his jeans, he pulled off his cap and started combing his long, golden-blond hair. Like rays of sun, the rebellious strands eventually gave way, falling smooth and straight.
He deftly tied his hair back, a quick and familiar motion. But when he turned, he saw it: a music box emitting a grim, distorted tune. The ballerina inside spun with her chin up, while the notes turned darker, more twisted. Panic hit him like a physical blow. Kowai clutched his midsection, shivering uncontrollably. He choked, retching up mouthfuls of water as his knees buckled, sending him crashing to the floor.
He rolled onto his side, desperate for the exit. It hadn't been a dream; the pool was real. As the world faded, a burly, red-haired boy lunged for him, catching his hand. Kowai tried to beg for help, but his voice was gone. The music stopped.
This is the end of the first chapter. I have three chapters ready, but I would like to know if you would like to see the story continue in the near future. Are you interested in my universe? Would you like to work on the fandom together?
