Chapter Three

"AH!" Isha bolted up out of bed, throwing his covers off as he panted. His hand went right to his neck, feeling nothing out of place. Was that really a dream? Yeah, it must have been. Isha caught his breath and calmed down, getting out of bed.

He spotted his phone on the window sill of his room and checked the time.

"Eleven in the morning…." He let out a sigh. He was already late for his part time job by three hours. "Let's just make an excuse about being sick or something…" He muttered to his self sighing. He stared at the cloudy sky, watching as the snow fell a little bit at a time.

"I never sleep without a shirt…" He looked down at his torso and sighed again. He went out his door, stopping at the doorway, looking at the end of the hall. With his hand he pressed against is, but nothing happened. He let out a relieved sigh and turned to go down the hall.

"Wait…" He froze, spotting out of the corner of his eye his mirror. As he turned to face it, it was confirmed. The mirror was cracked, the spot the knife was clearly visible. But that wasn't what stole his full attention. His hair was raven black yesterday, but today, right now there were stripes of white in it. Not only that, but his eyes, they were red.

They weren't pink like the girl from his… dream? But blood red. He put a hand over his right eye and vice versa. Both eyes registered the color. Isha stood still as he ran his hand through his hair. He gripped one of the white hairs, and yanked it, looking at it directly.

"What… What happened…" It was definitely white. Isha stumbled backwards, before turning and charging to the living room, seeing the broke window, the cups of half drank tea, and the kettle on the stove. But there was no blood. The knife and the trash can lid were back in place. It didn't make sense to him why somethings were there and others weren't.

Isha glanced back down the hall, his breathing picked up in pace as he started towards the end of the hall again. He placed a firm hand on the wall and pushed with all his might, but nothing. He then took a few steps back and ran at the wall, crashing into it with a thud.

It just didn't budge. He fell backward, down to the floor, panting and aching from crashing into the wall. He didn't even leave a dent in the wall, which would make sense as the outside of the building was brick.

Isha laid there for a bit, calming himself. He had no clue what this meant, nor what to do. He sat up and took a deep breath. Getting up from the floor, he got a spare sheet and a staple gun, stapling it to the broken window as a temporary replacement. It wasn't exactly a good neighborhood, so no one would notice anyway.

"Let's go out for a bit…" Isha mumbled, putting on a shirt from his dresser. He took a pair of sunglasses from the dresser top, and then headed out to the entrance. He grabbed his coat and scarf, locking the door behind him. He walked out into the cold outdoors, the wind instantly nipping at his nose before he pulled his scarf up higher.

He just blindly walked, not really sure where he was headed as snowflakes drifted onto him. Some of the people he passed gave him weird looks. Of course they would, he was wearing sunglasses on a cloudy day. He ignored them best he could, and just focused on the sky.

He wished it were nighttime ever so badly. Not as many people would be out staring at him. It wouldn't be so bright.

"Oh, look it's the pervert." Isha stopped when he heard that, turning around he saw Mr. Ilan's granddaughter.

"Pervert huh." He repeated, narrowing his eyes beneath the sunglasses. The girl blankly stared at him.

"Who else would fall for someone based on taste." She replied in a monotone, purposely twisting what Mr. Ilan said yesterday about her food. The people around gave even weirder looks at Isha.

"Let's go, gramps will be happy to see you." She stated, starting to walk. She had a bag of groceries in her hand. Isha was hesitant at first, but began to follow after her, keeping a bit of distance.

"You're May… right?" He asked as he followed along.

"Nn. That's right." May replied, looking back and giving a nod. Isha fell silent, thinking about last night. He watched his breath drift off again as he trailed behind May.

May led him directly to the café, opening the door for him. As Mr. Ilan turned to look at who came in, he froze a bit before a smile grew on his lips.

"An interesting change of hairstyle." The man noted, in a teasing voice. Isha smiled softly at him as May went to the back with the groceries, footsteps on a set of stairs resounding.

"Oh, you wouldn't believe. So still dead old man?" Isha shot back, looking at the interior of the shop. There was still no one there as of current.

"Bah, I'm alive. You just caught the shop in a slow hour. About three in the morning people came in too." Mr. Ilan replied, preparing a cup of coffee for Isha already. "Your friends…. No, your acquaintances rather, left soon after you did. They had to wake the one that passed out first though."

"None of them barfed did they?" Isha asked, tilting his head.

"Ah, no no-"

"Yes. The one you kneed. A lot. And the gross one tried to hit on me while I was cleaning it up." May cut him off, having come back downstairs. "'You know how to handle a mop'" She started mocking him while Mr. Ilan nervously stroked his mustache.

"Ah, someone learned emotion." Isha jabbed at her. May furrowed her brow at him.

"It's called mocking. Anyways, you owe me." She replied, her voice losing tone again. "For two things." Isha almost fell out of his chair.

"Wah! Two?!" He exclaimed, adjusting the sunglasses. May nodded.

"Hmf! Cleaning up vomit and guiding you here when you were wandering aimlessly." She narrowed her eyes, folding her arms.

"Your job is cleaning is it not? And I wasn't lost!" Isha fired back at her.

"You made him throw up in the first place. And the one creep hit on me. You're lucky that isn't two right there. And whether you were lost or not, I guided you. A tour guide would charge at least fifty dollars." She pursed her lips, Mr. Ilan watching with a nervous smile on his face.

"I have yet to see a tour guide in this city! But fine, I suppose I'll owe you two. That guy was a creep." Isha threw his arms up in surrender. May's face grew smug as she went to the kitchen in victory, going to make something.

"Good to see you two are getting along." Mr. Ilan stated smiling, pouring a cup of coffee for Isha.

"If this is getting along, I'd hate to see what best of friends is like." Isha muttered back, watching the steam rise before taking a sip from the cup. "Despite how much you gave me yesterday… It still takes my breath how delicious this is." Isha stated with a soft smile, staring at the liquid inside the cup. "Different blend from yesterday though?"

Mr. Ilan smiled back at Isha.

"I'm glad you noticed." He replied, sorting somethings behind the counter. "So what's really with the hairstyle and glasses Isha?"

"I bet the glasses are so he can stare at woman without anyone noticing. Is that why you trailed so far behind?" May asked, poking her smug face out of the kitchen.

"Like hell it is you little half-wit!" Isha exclaimed back at her. She stuck her tongue out and went back to cooking. Mr. Ilan let out a small laugh, enjoying the entertainment.

"I just decided to dye my hair because… I wanted a change." Isha answered Mr. Ilan's question, staring down into his cup as he scratched his right cheek. "The glasses… are because my eyes just felt sensitive today…" He answered the second half.

"Ah, is that so." Mr. Ilan nodded, stroking his mustache. Did he really buy that? Isha wondered, staring into his coffee. He felt guilty for not telling the truth to him. He did just meet them yesterday, but with how much they talked Isha felt like he should trust at least Mr. Ilan.

May then trotted out, setting down a delicious smelling hot sandwich and a soup. It wasn't the same as he ordered yesterday.

"Here you go pervert." She jabbed at him as she retreated to the kitchen doorway, staring at him from the door. Mr. Ilan smiled softly as he watched.

"Before he eats, won't you care to tell him what you made May?" Mr. Ilan asked her, rubbing his mustache. Was this their specialty meal? Isha asked himself, tilting his head.

"Of course." May nodded. "What I have presented to you is a roast beef and swiss sandwich on our homemade garlic bread." For some reason Isha's eyes twitched when he heard garlic. "With tomato and lettuce. The soup is a split pea soup." She finished with a bow. It didn't really seem that special to Isha, but it might be the best thing at this shop he'll eat.

"Thank you, I look forward to it." He replied, picking up half the sandwich. The old man watched, twiddling his mustache.

As Isha bit into it, the taste spread through his mouth. Almost immediately he spat it out.

"What was that! Was the meat rotted??" He exclaimed, his shock getting the best of him as he then gripped the bowl of soup and started drinking it to get the flavor out. Isha almost immediately choked it back up, falling to the floor flailing as his body burned, the worst of it coming from his mouth where the soup was.

"GYYAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!" Isha screeched out, his glasses flying off as he flailed about, revealing his eyes.

"As I thought. May."

"Yes grandfather." May hurried past Isha, flipping the sign to closed, and then shutting the blinds. Mr. Ilan took a cane from nearby and brought it over to Isha, who's mouth began to froth. The pain was almost unbearable.

"It appears, Mr. Nin, since yesterday you've become possessed by a spirit. A very powerful one. Some might consider it a high ranking demon. But it has yet to be assessed." May knelt down near Isha as Mr. Ilan explained.

"It may have been, by accident, our fault for this possession. I can't say for certain, but either way I'll help you. I have grown rather fond of you." He stated, putting the end of his can onto Isha's chest. The moment it touched, Isha's body froze. It still hurt, but it wasn't flailing.

"I have too, pervert." May added, feeling around his throat and closing her eyes, a small glow emitting from her hands.

"What May is doing now is moving the liquid around the salt out of your throat. Hopefully it's taken care of in one go, otherwise we'll need to force water down your throat. Now, you're probably confused as to what happened. May led you here because she was suspicious when she found you wandering the streets. Amazingly, your strong enough to not get fully possessed, despite this demon being rather strong.

Now, I figured out as soon as I saw you what May was up to, and began assessing whether or not you were taken over, and if so how far. And to confirm the suspicion all together, May cooked your food. Demons cannot consume garlic without it tasting rancid, same with salt. So that's why the sandwich tasted rotted. Meanwhile the pea soup, not only is pea soup rather salty, but May mixed in silver water, which if too much is drank will be detrimental to demons and most other spirits."

Isha was confused as he listened, his body lessening in pain as he felt the soup he swallowed slowly form into a ball that wasn't touching anything on the inside of him. What Mr. Ilan was saying made some sense, but what does he mean he may have caused it.

"Open." May stated, her eyes still closed. Isha did as told and a floating ball of pea soup floated from his mouth.

As soon as it left, Isha gasped for air, able to breathe, but not yet able to get up as the cane was still on his chest.

"What happened last night." Mr. Ilan asked, feeling his mustache as he kept pressure on the cane.

"I discovered a newfound hate and distrust for children." Isha replied, staring up at him. Mr. Ilan pushed against the cane, digging into him. "Wah! I-it's going in!" He howled.

"It will only hurt for a moment. Your regenerative abilities should kick in. I can tell by how much power your releasing just by breathing. Now tell me what happened." The old man demanded, May watching with her knees to her chest. She looked rather amused.

Isha let out a sigh and began to explain what happened from the time he got home.