The next morning, Kikidori awoke to the faint light of dawn streaming through the cracked blinds in his living room. For a moment, he forgot about the events of the previous day—the humiliation at school, the strange book, and the spark of hope it had ignited in him. But as his eyes landed on the crimson-covered book still sitting on the coffee table, it all came rushing back.
He sat up slowly, his body still aching from Ryden's beating. The book seemed to glow faintly in the morning light, almost as if it were alive. Kikidori hesitated for a moment, then reached for it, his fingers brushing over the embossed title: "Vampire."
"Maybe this is all just a load of crap," he muttered. "But what do I have to lose?"
Kikidori spent the next hour studying the book again, flipping through its pages with a determination he hadn't felt in years. The text detailed a ritual—a way to unlock the powers of the vampire within oneself. It didn't require much: a quiet place, focus, and a willingness to take the risk.
The final step, however, was both simple and chilling. The text instructed the user to bite into their own wrist and drink their own blood, allowing the transformation to take place.
Kikidori stared at the page, his hands trembling slightly. "This is insane," he whispered. "But if it works…"
He closed the book and stood, pacing the room. Doubt clawed at him, but the memory of Ryden's smirk and the principal's indifference pushed him forward. He was tired of being powerless.
"Fine," he said aloud, trying to steady his nerves. "Let's see if this thing is real."
That night, under the faint glow of a flickering bulb in his cramped bedroom, Kikidori prepared for the ritual. He sat cross-legged on the floor with the book open in front of him, its pages illuminated by the dim light. The house was silent, save for the sound of his own breathing.
Kikidori followed the instructions carefully, focusing his mind and reciting the strange, unfamiliar words written in the book. The language felt alien on his tongue, but as he spoke, he felt a strange warmth coursing through his body—a faint hum of energy that he'd never felt before.
Finally, it was time for the last step.
Taking a deep breath, Kikidori raised his wrist to his mouth. His heart pounded in his chest as he hesitated, his mind racing with doubts.
"What if this doesn't work? What if it does?"
But then he thought of all the times he'd been mocked, beaten, and ignored. He thought of the laughter in the hallways, the smirks, the cruel words. And with that, he bit down, hard.
His teeth sank into his wrist, and pain shot through him, sharp and searing. Blood welled up around the bite, and Kikidori forced himself to drink, his throat burning as the metallic taste filled his mouth.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Kikidori sat there, his wrist still bleeding, his body trembling. Then, a sudden wave of heat washed over him, followed by a cold so intense it made him shiver. His vision blurred, and he felt his heart race faster and faster until it seemed like it might burst.
He fell to the floor, clutching his chest as the world spun around him. The book's pages fluttered as if caught in an invisible wind, and a faint, crimson light seemed to emanate from it.
Just as quickly as it began, the sensation stopped.
Kikidori opened his eyes, his breath ragged. He sat up slowly, his body feeling… different. Lighter, almost. He raised a hand to his face, expecting to feel some drastic change, but everything seemed the same.
Then, he felt it. His tongue brushed against something sharp. He ran his fingers over his teeth and froze.
Fangs.
They were small, barely noticeable unless he opened his mouth wide, but they were definitely there.
Kikidori scrambled to his feet and looked at himself in the cracked mirror hanging on the wall. He tilted his head, baring his teeth. The fangs glinted in the dim light, proof that the ritual had worked.
But as he stared at his reflection, waiting for some other change—red eyes, a surge of strength, anything—he realized that nothing else was different.
He clenched his fists, expecting to feel power coursing through him, but his body felt as weak as ever. He tried jumping, running, punching the air—anything to test his newfound abilities—but there was nothing.
"No super strength," he muttered. "No speed, no healing… nothing but these stupid teeth."
Frustration bubbled up inside him. He grabbed the book and flipped through its pages again, searching for some kind of explanation.
At the very end, in small, handwritten text, he found the words:
"The transformation is only the beginning. True power must be earned."
Kikidori groaned, tossing the book onto his bed. "Earned? What's that supposed to mean?"
He slumped onto the floor, his head in his hands. For a brief moment, he'd dared to hope that things might change, that he might finally have the strength to stand up for himself. But now, he felt more lost than ever.
Still, as he sat there in the quiet of his room, he couldn't help but feel the faintest glimmer of determination. The book had given him something, even if it was small. And maybe, just maybe, it was enough to start.
"Fine," Kikidori said, baring his fangs at his reflection. "If I have to earn it, then I will. One way or another."
The End of Chapter 9.