Dead Man's Tales: HSOTD

Katsuro Tanaka woke up every morning with the same gnawing sense of dread. His alarm clock blared at 5:30 a.m., a cruel reminder that another miserable day awaited him. He groaned, the sound catching in his throat as he turned over, staring blankly at the ceiling of his tiny apartment. The room was a mess: old newspapers littered the floor, and the faint smell of stale instant noodles lingered in the air.

With a deep sigh, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, the movement accompanied by the creak of protesting springs. Katsuro rubbed his temples, feeling the beginnings of another headache. His uniform hung on the back of a chair, neatly pressed but far too tight around the waist. It was a constant reminder of how his overeating had spiraled out of control, a vice he clung to in the absence of any meaningful joy.

He shuffled into the kitchen, opening the fridge to find it almost empty. A few cans of beer, a carton of eggs, and half a tub of margarine stared back at him. He grabbed the margarine and a loaf of white bread from the counter, his breakfast as uninspired as the rest of his life. As he buttered the bread, he thought about the day ahead, his chest tightening with anxiety.

Katsuro hated his job.

When he had first been promoted to principal of the prestigious Shinjuku Academy, he had been filled with hope. He had envisioned himself as a beacon of change, a leader who would shape young minds and leave behind a legacy of excellence. But that dream had quickly withered under the relentless pressure of the role.

The students didn't respect him. The teachers saw him as a bureaucrat, not an educator. And the parents—oh, the parents—treated him like their personal servant, demanding concessions for their spoiled brats while threatening to pull funding if their whims weren't met.

And then there was Saya Takagi.

The girl was a force of nature, not because of her intelligence—though she was brilliant—but because of the sheer power her family wielded. Her father's name was enough to make even the board of trustees tremble. Katsuro had no choice but to bow to her every whim, enduring her disdain with a forced smile.

Katsuro arrived at school in his old, battered sedan, parking in a far corner of the lot to avoid the stares of parents pulling up in their luxury cars. As he walked toward the entrance, he passed a group of teachers huddled together, their laughter cutting off abruptly as they noticed him.

"Good morning, Principal," one of them said, her tone polite but empty. Katsuro nodded, pretending not to see the smirks they exchanged as he walked by.

He entered the building, the fluorescent lights of the hallway casting harsh shadows on the scuffed tile floors. The sounds of lockers slamming and students chattering echoed through the halls, grating on his nerves. His office awaited him at the end of the corridor, a small sanctuary where he could briefly escape the chaos.

But today, even his office felt oppressive. The stack of papers on his desk seemed taller than usual, a mountain of complaints, permission slips, and disciplinary reports. He sank into his chair with a groan, the fabric straining under his weight.

His phone buzzed with a new notification. Katsuro picked it up, his heart sinking as he read the message from a parent:

"Principal Tanaka, if my daughter's grades don't improve by next semester, we will be pulling her from the academy. I trust you'll make the necessary adjustments."

He tossed the phone onto his desk, its impact muffled by a stack of files. His head fell into his hands, and for a moment, he let himself feel the full weight of his despair.

---

The warm afternoon sun hung lazily in the sky, casting long shadows over the school courtyard where rows of students had been herded like sheep. They shuffled awkwardly, some chatting in hushed tones, others squinting up at the heavens, shielding their eyes with their hands. The administration had gone all out for the occasion, setting up telescopes, handing out eclipse glasses, and cordoning off areas for students to gather safely.

It was a calculated attempt at fostering school spirit, or at least, that was how the memo had spun it. In reality, the faculty had simply wanted to avoid the chaos of students trying to watch the rare celestial event from the streets or rooftops, which could lead to accidents. The courtyard buzzed with an uneasy excitement, the kind of nervous energy that only teenagers could muster—part awe, part boredom, and part rebellion.

Principal Katsuro Tanaka stood at the edge of the scene, his jaw clenched, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. His bulky frame cast a long shadow over a group of students who were too engrossed in their conversation to notice his presence. One of them, a boy with a shock of dyed blue hair, let out a loud laugh, shattering the fragile order Katsuro had tried to maintain all day.

"Quiet!" Katsuro barked, his voice cutting through the noise like a whip. The students flinched, their laughter dying in their throats as they turned to face him.

He glared at them, his face red and glistening with sweat. The heat of the day and the mounting pressure of keeping everything under control had pushed him to the brink. His suit clung to his body uncomfortably, and his tie felt like a noose tightening around his neck. He wanted nothing more than to shout at all of them, to let loose the torrent of frustration and anger that had been building inside him for years. But he held back. Barely.

Instead, he turned on his heel and marched toward the teachers huddled near the telescope station. They were chatting amongst themselves, completely oblivious to the chaos brewing among the students. One of them, a young man with a poorly knotted tie and a coffee stain on his shirt, was showing off his phone, likely a meme or a YouTube video.

"Are any of you actually working?" Katsuro snapped, his voice low but seething with barely contained fury. The teachers froze, their smiles fading as they turned to face him. "You're supposed to be supervising the students, not acting like them."

"Y-yes, Principal Tanaka," one of them stammered, hastily tucking his phone away. The others mumbled apologies, avoiding his gaze.

Katsuro clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. He wanted to scream at them, to make them feel the weight of their incompetence, but he knew it would only make things worse. Instead, he took a deep breath, his chest heaving as he tried to calm himself.

Just one more hour, he told himself. One more hour and this will all be over.

The solar eclipse began slowly, the moon's shadow creeping across the sun like a dark stain spreading over a pristine canvas. The light dimmed gradually, the warmth of the afternoon fading into an eerie, otherworldly coolness. The students' chatter quieted as they donned their eclipse glasses and tilted their heads toward the sky. Even the most jaded among them couldn't help but feel a spark of wonder as the celestial event unfolded above them.

Katsuro stood off to the side, watching the scene with a sour expression. The dimming light cast strange, elongated shadows across the courtyard, making everything seem distorted and unnatural. He adjusted his glasses and looked up at the sky, his breath catching in his throat as the eclipse reached totality.

The sun was no longer a blinding orb of light. It had become a black void, ringed by a fiery corona that pulsed and writhed like a living thing. It was beautiful and terrifying all at once, a cosmic eye staring down at the world with cold, unblinking indifference.

Katsuro felt a shiver run down his spine, but it wasn't from the sudden drop in temperature. There was something wrong about the eclipse, something deeply unsettling. The shadows around him seemed to shift and twist, moving against the natural flow of light. He glanced around, his unease growing as he noticed the students' faces. They were all staring at the sky, their expressions blank, their bodies unnaturally still.

"Principal Tanaka," a voice said, low and resonant, cutting through the unnatural silence like a blade. He turned sharply, his heart pounding in his chest.

Standing before him was… himself.

The doppelganger was identical in every way, from the ill-fitting suit to the faint scar on his chin. But there was something off about it, something that made Katsuro's skin crawl. Its eyes were too bright, its smile too wide, and its movements too smooth, like a puppet controlled by invisible strings.

"What… what is this?" Katsuro demanded, his voice trembling. He took a step back, his hands balling into fists.

"This is your moment," the doppelganger said, its voice calm and soothing. "Your chance to take control. To teach these ungrateful children and lazy teachers what respect truly means."

"I don't understand," Katsuro said, shaking his head. "Who are you? What do you want?"

"I am you," the doppelganger replied, stepping closer. "I am the part of you that you've buried beneath years of mediocrity and self-loathing. The part that craves power. Authority. Respect."

It extended a hand, its smile widening. "Let go, Katsuro. Embrace what you truly are. Show them your strength."

Katsuro hesitated, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps. He wanted to resist, to turn away, but the temptation was too strong. All his life, he had been ignored, belittled, and disrespected. He had swallowed his anger and buried his desires, but now, for the first time, he felt a spark of something else—power.

He reached out and took the doppelganger's hand.

The transformation was immediate.

Katsuro's body convulsed as tendrils of flesh erupted from his skin, writhing and coiling like snakes. His suit shredded as his torso expanded, layers of muscle and sinew bulging unnaturally. His jaw unhinged with a sickening crack, his mouth stretching wide as a guttural roar tore from his throat.

The sound was deafening, a primal scream that shattered the windows of the school and sent students running in terror. Those who were too slow fell to their knees, clutching their ears as blood poured from their noses and mouths.

Katsuro's tendrils shot out, latching onto the walls of the school. The building groaned as it began to change, the bricks and steel twisting and merging with his flesh. The ground beneath him split open, veins of pulsing red light spreading out like roots. The school itself seemed to come alive, its walls covered in throbbing, organic growths that oozed a foul-smelling ichor.

The students fled, their screams echoing through the halls as the once-familiar school transformed into a living nightmare. Classrooms became cavernous chambers lined with rows of jagged teeth. Desks and chairs fused into grotesque shapes, their sharp edges glinting menacingly in the dim, pulsing light.

Katsuro stood at the center of it all, his monstrous form towering above the chaos. His crown of flesh and bone writhed like a nest of serpents, and his glowing eyes burned with a terrifying intensity.

"YOU WILL RESPECT ME!" he roared, his voice echoing through the twisted halls of the school. His tendrils lashed out, dragging fleeing students back into the darkness.

The High School of the Dead had been born!

Author Note: More chapters on [email protected]/LordCampione.