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Shiori haunted Juri's dreams.
They were walking out on the lake, water dancing up over their bare feet. Juri could look down and see into the depths through that crystal-clear water, could see schools of fish darting to and fro, could see the tunas longer than she was tall, swimming lazily through the sunlit water.
"Juri," Shiori always said. Like Juri's name fit in her mouth, a single bite. "Don't you want me?"
This was how Juri knew it was a dream. The tuna's tail went back and forth, a hypnotic motion. "Do you want me?" she asked.
"That isn't the question," Shiori said. She kept walking when Juri stopped, circled around her with slow, lazy footsteps. She stood so lightly atop the water, even as Juri felt herself sinking slowly, water lapping at her ankles. "The question is. Don't you want me?"
Juri dragged her feet from the water. She sank slowly, so slowly. If she only kept moving, she could stay above the surface. "I do," she admitted. "You know that."
"But I need you to say it," Shiori insisted. "I need you to prove it."
"Prove it?" Juri echoed. "You can't prove a feeling. You can only feel it."
Shiori laughed at this, laughed so cruelly that the little fish nibbled at Juri's toes. "What use is a feeling, then? Wanting isn't something you feel. It's something you do. So come and want me, if you can." And she dived into the lake, one beautiful long line, and swam away from Juri.
Juri knew this was a dream, for she did not hesitate, but dived in after Shiori. The water was cold, so cold, and Shiori was blood-hot ahead of her, a shining thing, always just out of reach. Until at last she was in reach, Juri's hand around her ankle, and Juri pulled her close and grabbed at her, at thighs and buttocks and hips and shoulders, until they were face to face again.
"You still haven't proved it," Shiori mocked, her voice as clear underwater as it was above. "Or are you afraid?"
And Juri knew what Shiori wanted, knew what she wanted. She pulled Shiori to her and sunk her teeth into Shiori's shoulder. She tasted like heat and the awful salty satiation of meat, and Juri found that she could not let go. Her teeth sunk deeper and deeper, until at last Juri shook her head and the flesh ripped free. Blood bloomed into the water around them, and all Juri could see was red.
It was warm, and foul, and Juri gagged and swallowed at the same time. When her mouth was empty, she filled it again and again, until the bones of her teeth scraped the bones of Shiori's shoulder with a sickening sound.
"Coward," Shiori taunted. "This isn't what you want."
And she was right, so Juri bent her teeth to Shiori's breast, tearing away mouthful after mouthful of rubbery fat, teeth scraping again and again against Shiori's ribs until the water at last ran clear enough for her to see the silvery ligaments between white bones.
"Coward," Shirori repeated, and Juri could see her chest move with the breath. "Coward."
So Juri set her hands to those ribs, cracked them and tore them open, a gaping wound, ringed with bone like a fence. And then she pressed her face into the gap she'd torn and found at last Shiori's quivering heart, quick with fear and lust and never, never love. She sunk her teeth into the muscle and found it thick and chewy between her incisors, so she did not chew, but swallowed piece after piece after piece until all that was left was blood and hollow.
"Coward," Shiori whispered, and Juri wrapped her hands around Shiori's neck and put her teeth to her windpipe and squeezed and bit and tore until it was finally silent. Until it was only her and her beloved corpse, and the fish that were already gathering to steal Shiori from her.
It was then that she found herself drowning, trapped beneath the water. Her breath was suffocated in her lungs; the flesh she'd eaten clawed its way up her throat. When she thought at last that she would die, her eyes flew open, and she breathed ragged and miserable breaths in the uncertain silence of her room.
Impossibly, she was hungry.