RABBIT 22: Even so, I'm still alive.

MICHIFUKU

Death is lonely.

It's a different loneliness than living with false faces, because though you may be surrounded by people, you're still alone. You can take off and change those faces, but they aren't you. They're a reflection of what you want others to see.

What they wanted to see wasn't important, as long as it could be replicated and reflected. But they grew close to that, and in time, only saw what they wanted to. Michifuku Monoo may have been buried surrounded by people, but she lived and died alone.

That's the realisation I came to, after dying. And I kinda wish I hadn't. Cus' when I die again, I coulda' at least died thinking: "I lived how I wanted." Not anymore, though. Now it'll be "What a waste."

Michifuku Monoo amounted to nothing.

And so, there's no reason for me to live; to return. It's pointless. And yet knowing that, why am I still breathing? Why is blood pumping through my veins? Why am I afraid?

The ceiling might collapse any minute, I thought. Those walls were too frail to hold it any longer; and the wooden floorboards would creak with each step, questioning their stability too. It was a cold room, with little lighting and worn furniture. Completely abandoned. The outside was inaccessible and absent, just pure darkness. And this room, though it had to be part of a bigger building, was alone in this darkness - no exits or entrances. How did I even get inside?

But unlike the room itself, I wasn't alone. Something else was here, leaning back on a wooden chair at the opposite side of the table.

A dark creature with black beady eyes that blended in with its fur, long sprouting ears, thick paws and a fluffy tail. Its snout was small and cute, but the creature's humanoid figure wasn't. It looks a lot like the Rabbit that's hunting us, but smaller and more defined. Also, this one could talk.

"Monoo, do you get what's going on?" it asked me, ears and nose twitching.

"Kind of… but not really." I nervously replied, struggling to keep my eyes on it.

"I bet." it snickered. "Don't fret, tho. No one knows what's going on in the first part."

And it added. "You only needa' get the jist of it. You weren't picked at random. You were chosen. This is your only chance at returning to your life."

I had a lot of questions, a ton I wanted to pile on, but it wasn't interested in answering any.

"We'll see one another again, maybe. So survive, and I'll answer any questions-"

"Why was I chosen?" I split its sentence.

If there was one thing I had to know, it was that. It wasn't random, I was chosen to be here - for the opportunity of revival. But why me? Why, out of everyone, was I chosen?

"Cus' we're unsatisfied." it bluntly replied, leaning its chin on a paw, its beady eyes staring boredly into my soul. "And above all else, so are you."

An unsatisfying death, huh? I wonder what even qualifies as one? Maybe if you die young, or unfairly, unexpectedly, maybe at the hands of someone else - or even yourself. Or maybe it had to be a life cut too short, before it reached its potential. Those might be unsatisfying deaths. But in that case, my death couldn't have been unsatisfying, because I'd already reached my potential. Moreso, I never had any to reach.

A satisfying death? What qualifies as that? Do you have to die an old geezer, or surrounded by people you love? Is it okay as long as your death is quick and painless, or if you had it coming? I guess, with that in mind, my death couldn't qualify for all points of satisfaction. It was quick, sure, and I probably had it coming - but I died young, too. I can't even argue I died surrounded by people, even if it was likely. At least to the devils, I couldn't be counted as a satisfactory death. But as long as I'm satisfied, what do their opinions matter?

Who gets to decide, other than the dead, what deaths are and aren't satisfactory?

They couldn't argue my death was unexpected either. There are hundreds of thousands of car accidents every year in Japan, thousands fatal. It happens all the time, just this time, it happened to me.

Was I 'a one in two-thousand?' Was my lousy life more important than others? I didn't feel that way, so I'm kinda guilty. I lived and died a lonely liar; no one really knew me, not even myself. Someone like me isn't more deserving of a second chance over anyone else.

"Cus' we're unsatisfied. And above all else, so are you."

It wasn't even 'quick and painless'. It was instant. I didn't even realise I was dead until I was told so. Even if I was in critical condition for a few days, it didn't matter - I remembered none of that. And it's not really anyone's fault; it just kinda happened. These things kinda happen. And I couldn't even be disappointed, cus' dying in a car wasn't all that bad. I liked them, after all.

But if one thing's irking me, it's not knowing if anyone else survived.

My mom and brother were in the car too, but I still don't know if they're alive or not. Hopefully they'd just gotten off with a scratch or two, but seeing how I ended up, I could only fear the worst. I'm fine with being the one to die, but it's not okay for them to die too.

With that in mind, if they did die, why was I chosen instead of them?

I'm really guilty. Having to accept the possibility of them being dead only tells me I'm valued more by the devils. A total coward, who lied their way through life, wearing whatever face benefited best. Willing to help and hurt others, as long as I hadn't connected with them properly - it was the face's doing. I can't be deserving of this second chance, I should die right here, right now.

But I'm just repeating myself. Again and again, I've argued how death suited me better; how I wasn't deserving of my second chance. And yet, I keep surviving.

I'm still breathing.

Standing in the entrance hall, a white humanoid Fox; small in frame, and a short snout that curved up. Teeth that hung low, jaw opened wide, its saliva seeping. Perky ears that would twitch every few seconds, and eyes that couldn't split their gaze. And, strangely enough, a dark gakuran, like the Fox from before. It looked stupid.

And like the Fox from before, it was here to kill me. It followed me after all. I had hoped that with its mangled right arm, it'd back off for a bit. Though I guess it didn't matter, cus' I doubt I'd beat it arm mangled or not. I'm barely keeping on my feet, after all. Looks like it got lucky, and that its determination will pay off.

It took a slight step forward, revealing its size to the harsh yellow light. It really couldn't have been any taller than Ishimasu-san. The other Fox had to have been bigger, too.

And it's tail too. it was emphasised by the light. Was my vision starting to go, too, or did it have more than one tail?

I was struggling to think, as my mind raced to pin a weak point on the beast, my head splitting and my legs shaking. I had to press my right arm against the kitchen countertop to stay standing, my hand searching for a weapon. Even if I'm going to pass out, I'll try to do what I can first. If I can inflict any damage, I'm sure it'll help them. It's just… I wish it wasn't such a vicious beast, cus I'm sure whatever's coming is gonna' hurt a whole bunch.

Though, that pain hadn't yet arrived - because the Fox remained utterly still. Not attacking me, or even taking another step. What was it waiting for? Backup? It wasn't so hesitant to slip its paw under a falling heavy sheet of metal, so why was it all of a sudden acting cautious around a girl who couldn't even walk straight? I must've scared it good before - though not enough to scare it off entirely.

But honestly, I kind of wished it'd just attack already. This fear is eating away at me, only making things more difficult. No one's coming to my rescue, and I can't make a run for it. This body is going to give any second, so at least let me put up a fight, so I can say I died doing something!

But when it does come; that excruciating pain, will I be okay with it? Will I be satisfied with the outcome? If so, why am I still trying to find a way out of this?

I felt my control over both legs softly fade, and I fell to the floor, dragging the knife with me. Coughing and spitting into the floor, the pain in my head doubled - no, tripled. Physical exhaustion shouldn't go this far! And yet, I can't even stand on my own two legs. Why was I so weak?!

And then, the floor creaked. I threw my head up, only to see the hound even closer. It was preparing to move; its back hunched and paws excited to pounce. "What are you waiting for?!" I wanted to cry out, but lacked the strength to. I'm easy prey, aren't I?

"Just get it over and done with." That's what I'm thinking, isn't it? "Make it quick." And you're not entirely wrong, Fox. But it's not just me that's thinking that. You are too, right?

Its legs drew forward, its tails pointing to the air - - then it pounced, dashing across the dining table, and leaping towards the corner of the room where I lay.

"Just get it over and done with." Even with death fast approaching me, I still make time for lying.

Although I saw it coming, although I should have had the chance, my body could only react so fast - and my mind could only prepare so much. I drew my hands to my face without hesitation, fighting the weight. A defensive mechanism that would come in handy, because when I drew my shield, I indirectly swung my sword too. The knife swiped across the Fox's face, unable to end its leap. It began to yelp, kicking back against the kitchen counter and swiping its paw at me, hitting my right hand and sending the knife flying across the room. Along with a few of my fingers, I feared - but I didn't take the chance to look.

As it fell back, I threw my hefty body into the bedroom, and using my right shoulder, pressed on the door until I heard a click. I dragged my body to the opposite wall, and lay my back against it. With the spilt blood I could taste in my mouth, I might have nicked its eye. Lucky.

That was the closest brush with death I'd had so far, and my body understood that, my lungs quickly growing and shrinking as they scavenged for air. I only moved at that time because I was scared. It wasn't a planned defence. My body knew what was coming, and reacted to protect me. The Fox thought I'd given up. So did I. But, my body opposed that.

I don't think I can move these legs much more, though. They were aching and aching, the pain beginning to spread through my waist and back. Maybe I could pull myself up one last time, but that'd be the last. I doubt I'd even get the chance to, since that door will be knocked off its hinges any second. I can't even defend myself; my luck has run out, now that I've lost my weapon.

Accidentally catching a glimpse of my right hand, which had lost its blade, I darted my eyes back to the door. It was coated in bright red blood, but I think I counted all five fingers, even if the pain was convincing me otherwise. But it had to be useless, now. I'll probably see bone if I get the chance to clean it.

My body is desperate to live, but it's alone.

"Cus' we're unsatisfied. And above all else, so are you."

I groaned, cold tears building below my eyes. What should I do?

What should I do?!

My eyes were stuck on the door. My body could fight to prepare, but my mind couldn't. I've never had the chance to prepare for death, so how can I now? All I know now, is that a painful, lonely death awaits me.

So, what should I do?

I couldn't keep the tears from flowing, my legs from shaking and my hope from dwindling. What would they do in this situation? No, why am I even thinking like that? I'm a selfish liar, I can't think as optimistically as them.

The most optimistic thought I can conjure would be for a quick death.

But that door remained unopened, attached to its hinges. Did it run away? Did I kill it?

No, no chance. But even then, why hasn't it attacked me yet? It's too patient, only attacking me when I fell.

It is waiting for something.

It trapped me here, unwilling to attack without me first noticing, even though it could have. It intends to keep me here, where it can attack at any moment, where I can't escape, where I'm alone.

Does the Fox know something I don't?

In that case, what can I do but wait for help… or kill it myself?

That day was miserable. It was a month from my birthday, and my favourite star had died. I felt betrayed by him, even if he didn't know me. So my mom, in her infinite empathy, took me out for the day, along with my little brother. I had a strong relationship with my parents since I hadn't left home, despite being in university. But that strong relationship was built on lies.

But those didn't extinguish all truth, because I still love them. They're important to me. I want to be their ideal person; who they want to see. And I hope that when I did die, I died as that person. Not as Michifuku Monoo.

She took a day off from work just to cheer me up. We went shopping, ate ice-cream and visited the zoo. Even though I wanted my dad to come, I'm glad he didn't. I'm glad he was always too busy with work. I'm glad my brother was in the back seat. I'm glad I was in the front seat.

I don't care how unfair life is, and I don't care if these things happen all the time. Because their deaths can't be satisfying. They'll hurt enough by losing me, so don't let them lose any more.

And hopefully when I do die again, I'll find out what they're holding back from me. Whether they're alive or not. Even if I'm hesitant to know, it's something to fight for. So is knowing why I was chosen. I want to know that.

To the person who pushed her life aside just to make my day a little easier. I don't want her to hurt anymore.

Is there a way to find out, other than death? An answer to the questions I look for?

If I die, I might not find out.

My legs were heavy, my body too. Keeping my eyes open for a second longer proved difficult, and the sweat running down my forehead began mixing with the tears. It was waiting for this. That jackass probably knew it would come to this, and took advantage of it since he can't fight. Falling for my own lies and overestimating myself, I began to think I could fight for others. And now I'll die alone. No one will know what happened; they won't have the time to look for my corpse, so they'll cut their losses and move on.

But my heart is still beating.

My lungs are still growing.

My fingers are still twitching.

My endurance and will were absent, but I was still alive.

I don't need to find it. I don't need a reason to survive. I said it already, didn't I?

I'd rather survive alone than die alone.

If the Fox intends to wear me down, to the point I can't lift a finger, then I'll move while I still can. I'll drive my body into the ground if I have to. I'll get this over and done with. I refuse to wait until I become easy prey. I'm going to bring the prey to it.

Start with your fingers. Find your endurance and build it.

Then your hands, your arms and your chest-

-Your feet, legs and your waist-

Move. Move. Move, even if you have to break every bone in your body and tear every muscle and joint holding you together. As long as you can move, you can survive.

Forcing myself against the wall with my left side, I turned the door's handle with my bleeding hand, pushing it open slightly and peering my head around the corner to find it. It would know I was coming and where from, so I had to act fast.

Where? Where is it-

-On my left, inches from my throat, its jaw hanging wide.

I couldn't move my left hand from this angle. I needed that opening, but my legs could barely hold my own weight, nevermind force distance between me and the predator. I had to rely on instinct again, shifting my right arm in front of my head. It would see that coming-

-It pierced my chest, digging its short claws through flesh, and closed its jaw on my right hand, clenching hard.

"Gaah-" I finally let out, the pain unbearable.

I couldn't move my left hand. There wasn't enough space. Even with it caked in blood, I relied on this hand far too much. It'll get me killed- but if I could just…

…I began to fall. Despite knowing where it would lead me, I had pressed my left ankle against the wall, and used every last ounce of strength I had to tip over, dragging the Fox down with me. It was startled, and quickly looked to regain balance, releasing its jaw from my hand and its claws from my chest.

I wasn't pinned anymore.

Swinging my left arm upwards, then turning my wrist, I stabbed straight into the Fox's head, a needle dried in blood gripped tightly by my fist. I wasn't sure where exactly I'd hit it, but it was deep, requiring strength to pull back out. The Fox was howling and screaming, scratching and pulling at my body, dragging me across the room as the needle remained lodged until I could successfully pull it out.

I remained on the ground, and the Fox soon rejoined me, unable to keep its body straight as blood spurted from the side of its head. It whimpered and moaned, as I climbed on top of it, stabbing and stabbing and stabbing and stabbing the needle again and again and again wherever I could. Eye, ear, skull, jaw, cheek, neck, shoulder, anywhere I could reach. I could no longer feel my arm - it was moving on its own, relentlessly, without mercy or an intention to stop. Even when the crying and whimpering had ended, it continued to plunge the needle through flesh and bone. It was only when the needle had gotten stuck in bone, unable to be pulled back out with my remaining strength, did my arm finally fall back down.

The Fox wasn't making any more noise. It wasn't moving. It wasn't breathing.

It was dead. I killed it.

And despite that, I could only ask; "where did that leave me?"

My head spinning, the pain unbearable. My vision darkening, my stomach churning and my body unable to move.

Before I could even answer my question, everything went dark once again.

"Am I dying?" I piled on one last question.

But this time, I found an answer.

Even if I were to die; even if this time, my body had finally given up - I hadn't.

Because dying wasn't an option anymore, not if it was this lonely.

Because after everything, I'm still alive.