Pygmalion is planting seeds 05

Erisa contacted me late one morning, two weeks after I brought Misaki’s carniflora with me. It was the third time we had met.

Basked in the radiant glow of the sun, her beauty was only amplified. Her porcelain skin seemed to gleam, reflecting the sunlight and enhancing her radiance. Despite the sweltering heat, she stood out like a heavenly being, as if she did not belong in this world.

“I want to introduce you to someone.”

I was taken to an old residential area.

After navigating through a maze of hedges and moss-covered walls, we finally arrived at a secluded, old-fashioned house. Its garden was overgrown with withered grass and bushes, but what truly stood out was the vibrant hydrangeas in full bloom. It was as if we had stumbled upon a hidden gem in the midst of decay. The door plate, bearing the name “Alice” and weathered by the sun’s rays, only added to the eerie feeling of being out of place.

A late-middle-aged woman came to greet us moments after Erisa rang the bell.

“Oh, Miss Jinga, what’s the matter?”

“Nothing of much importance. I thought I’d visit and check on the situation.”

“Who is this boy with you?” Alice cast a wary glance my way.

“He’s my new personal assistant. I brought him along for some hands-on training.”

“I see. Well— come on in.”

Fooled by Erisa’s reckless lie, Alice began to neatly arrange slippers inside the house. 

The dwelling itself was tidy, yet starkly lacking in any personal touches or embellishments. It was clear that the house served only as a place of residence. Boxes and suitcases were stacked haphazardly in the cramped hallway, and while signs of habitation were present throughout, there were no indications of personal belongings or sentimental items.

“I will be bringing my husband now.”

We were guided to a living room with a solid wood carved low table and cheap looking dressers occupying most of the space. The woman went to the inner room.

“Putting aside that random lie, what is it that you want to show me here?” I whispered to Erisa sitting next to me.

“I thought it was a suitable time— I mean, you will start to contemplate your future actions soon enough, so… ”

“A suitable time for what, exactly?”

My question remained unanswered because of the sliding sound of the door.

Alice walked in while carrying her husband by his arms.

“I couldn’t bring myself to wound my fingertip, so I gave him the blood of a stray cat I had caught instead.” Alice set the pot down on the table.

Within the pot was a 40-centimeter figure, resembling a slender man with a meticulous appearance. He was approximately the same age as Alice, his wife. His body was covered in fine white lines.

“He appears to have been raised in a good environment.” Erisa’s gaze shifted from the carniflora to Alice. “Did you make your decision?”

“Yes, I’m satisfied with this for the time being.”

“If you’re happy with your current situation, then that is the right decision. That way, you won’t have to take on any more unnecessary burden.”

Throughout the conversation between Erisa and Alice, I remained silent, listening to their cryptic exchange. At times, I heard the mention of a “forty-one-day-old body,” suggesting that the death of Alice’s husband had occurred relatively recently. After spending around twenty minutes in the house, we bid farewell to Alice and left her residence.

We made our way back under the brilliant sunbeams. Erisa had opted not to drive today, explaining that her legs would grow dull if she didn’t walk every once in a while. The small rattan basket she held in her hand shook in tandem with her footsteps.

“Despite her appearance, she is in her early forties,” Erisa pointed as we walked the street. “Her husband had suffered a massive business failure and had been working himself to death in an attempt to pay off the debt. Unfortunately, he suffered a heart attack and passed away. It appears that he had put a great deal of stress on her too to keep the household afloat, which would explain her premature aging.”

“At least she still loves him enough to resurrect him as a carniflora… so they could stay together.”

“Did it look that way to you?”

“Am I wrong?”

Erisa revealed a wicked smile.

“Truth is quite the opposite— Alice deeply hated her husband. After his downfall, he fell into depression and took out his frustration on her, blaming her for everything. For Alice, this was unbearable. Far from being grateful for her devotion, he would use her as a vent to relieve his stress. She lived in constant fear of his abusive temper.”

“Then why did she turn him into a carniflora?”

“For the sake of the vengeance she couldn’t exact during his lifetime. She must have held quite the grudge against him to secretly place his headless body in the coffin and choose an immediate burial.”

“How could she get her revenge from her husband in that shape?”

“Didn’t you notice anything strange by looking at him?” Erisa was referring to the fine wounds that run in his body. “With each blood transfusion to her husband, she lacerates his skin with a knife. His bodily fluids resemble real blood at this stage of growth, which would cause him to experience the torment of a human. I visited her today to see if she has taken it too far. She will persist in this ritual until she has purged her resentment completely or until his regeneration ceases. Which one will come first remains a mystery.”

The man— no, the carniflora was kept alive for the sole intent of harming it.

I simply want Misaki by my side, I pondered to myself, that is why I’m raising her.

Leaving aside the common point of the carniflora , I never imagined that I would cross paths with Alice.

“Humans are capable of both love and hate, the proportions may vary among individuals, but both emotions are present in equal measure.” Erisa muttered, as if she had read my mind.

“Kuuya, what is your motivation for pursuing Misaki Iruse in your case?”

“Well, that is…”

Erisa struck me with a teasing glance as I struggled to give her an answer.

“It’s okay if you don’t answer— as long as you don’t lose sight of your feelings for her.”

As we chatted, we stumbled upon a public park near a kindergarten. 

The sound of joyful laughter and shrieks filled the air as young children played, while their mothers sat on distant benches, engaged in lively conversations. 

The peaceful and tranquil scene— a gift from the break of the rainy season, was a lulling sight that elicited a yawn.

“Let’s take a short break here.”

Erisa took a seat on a blue bench near the entrance, and I joined her, settling beside her. Sunlight filtered through the gaps between the poplar branches and leaves, creating a glittering effect. A cool breeze now and then wafted past, gently brushing against my damp shirt and adding to my comfort.

“Kanade prepared this for me before I left. I hope you don’t mind.”

Erisa pulled a half sandwich from her basket and took a bite without awaiting my nod. The crunch of fresh lettuce leisurely made its way to my ears.

“It’s a panini made from the meat of that dismembered girl you saw the other day. This time, I’m using her splenius— the part that connects her head and back together”

Ignoring her unappetizing description of the recipe, I immediately delved into questioning Erisa.

“I want to bring Misaki back to her human form.”

Erisa fixed her gaze on my face in return, speechless.

“I want to return her to her former shape, just like the boy you showed me in your shop. Tell me how to do it.”

“I was right when I said it was a suitable time.”

I finally comprehended the significance of “the suitable time” that Erisa had mentioned earlier. 

Misaki’s growth was progressing nicely. 

The seed had sprouted the day after it was planted and three days later had grown twenty centimeters and begun to take human form. The plant’s rapid growth had me completely entranced, causing me to forget about my library study sessions. The old adage “a watched pot never boils” did not hold true for Misaki. I was unable to take my eyes off her.

On the evening of the fifth day, Misaki’s familiar features began to emerge. Her face was still small, only ten centimeters, with weakly growing eyelashes and eyebrows, but her features were distinct. I pricked my finger with a knife and pressed it on her lips, as if tempting her for a kiss. And to my surprise, she started suckling the blood, much like a baby at its mother’s breast.

Misaki was drinking blood.

Her body was absorbing it and assimilating it into its own.

My blood was a vital sustenance that helped bring her back to the present world.

I was captivated by this experience and felt like I was making love with her. 

By the seventh day, the stem had elongated and her upper body came into view as it continued to grow.

Her lower body, starting from the hips, was still attached to the stem, but her upper body had fully formed into that of a young woman. Long, thin tendrils were gathering on her head instead of hair, with an almond-shaped flower bud at the crown. I kept feeding the forty centimeters tall Misaki my blood, my body shaking with each sensation of her biting my finger.

Those blessed days, however, did not last long.

Misaki continued to drink my blood, but her growth came to an abrupt halt. She would look exactly like a doll.

Around the same time, I grew tired of the bland taste of cooked white rice. It was great when I was hungry, but gradually, it became unfulfilling. I wanted side dishes, I craved food with bold flavors, and I yearned for a sweet and delicious dessert after my meals. Every time I satisfied one desire, another one surfaced.

To summarize, I became increasingly difficult to please.

I recalled the carniflora boy in Erisa’s shop.

I began to doubt whether blood was the only thing required for him to develop to that extent, but now that Misaki had stopped developing, the answer has become clear.

Blood is probably not enough for a carniflora to mature— that was my conclusion.

Just as I was considering reaching out to Erisa to clear up my doubts, she called me and I eagerly accepted her perfectly timed invitation.

“A flower bud should have grown on her head by now, as it has been two weeks, am I correct?”

“It’s not blooming and it isn’t withering away.”

“The bud won’t bloom just like that, there’s a specific requirement for it to happen.”

“What is it?”

“You need to change the nourishment you’re providing. I mentioned before that a carniflora can’t produce its own sustenance. It relies on an external source of organic matter. While blood may be enough to sustain it, it still requires a different type of feed to attain full form.”

I felt a spark of excitement ignite within me as Erisa spoke. Her words were not unexpected, but they carried with them a sense of anticipation.

“’Feed’ is an odd term. Isn’t it usually referred to as a fertilizer for plants?”

“That is because a carniflora is no regular plant. You’re quite aware of that fact, aren’t you?”

She was correct. A normal plant would not assume human form and would not drink blood. It also does not use a person’s brain as a seed-plot.

“Okay so, what could this feed be?”

Erisa held up the panini she was eating.

“This.”

Human flesh.

Not only Erisa, but even carnifloras eat human flesh.

“My father was the original cultivator of the carniflora. A dilettante of all things unusual, he dedicated much of his time and funds to exploring his esoteric interests alongside his profession. So, it was inevitable that he stumbled upon the mystical whispers surrounding the carniflora.” Erisa bit into the panini sandwich. “He skimmed over every ancient record and archive until he learned of the existence of the plant and found a way to produce the seed. However, the only thing that was mentioned in terms of the basic cultivation method was drinking blood. Nonetheless, the carniflora was still able to develop into a human form, enough to satisfy my father’s ambitions. Little did he know, that was only the start of his wild journey.”

Erisa raised her right hand and pointed her index finger to the sky.

“My father’s excitement for his creation soon faded and he became discontent. He believed that increasing the amount of blood offered to the carniflora would result in even greater growth, so he recklessly began cutting his finger to feed the plant. Unfortunately, his finger couldn’t keep up with this intense bleeding, and it eventually became mutilated, with blood constantly pouring out. Eventually, he no longer needed an ink pad to leave his thumbprint.”

He removed his finger.

“One day, he bit off his finger. At the time, the flesh was completely bare, allowing the carniflora to recognize its odor. It should be obvious by now that the name carniflora derives from its eating habit.”

Hearing Erisa’s story sent shivers down my spine. Maybe if she hadn’t told me of it, I’d be following in her father’s footsteps.

“For my father, this unfortunate event was like a ray of sunshine after a storm. The carniflora began to flourish and experience rapid growth, much to my father’s delight. He was ecstatic at the sudden transformation that was taking place before his eyes.”

“Delighted? Even though he bit off his finger? This might be rude of me but, your father was a weirdo.”

“It illustrates just how dedicated and enthusiastic my father was about the cultivation of the carniflora. From the moment he learned that the plant required flesh to grow, he embarked on a long journey of experimentation. He tried feeding it every type of animal imaginable, from pigs and cows to turtles and frogs, but the carniflora remained unresponsive. It wasn’t until he discovered that human flesh was the key ingredient that the plant finally began to grow. By that time, his fingers had already decreased to seven. My father had literally sacrificed his body to leave behind a detailed journal on the cultivation method, which I continue to use to this day. You could say that your ownership of Misaki Iruse’s plant is a direct result of my father’s sacrifices.”

“Isn’t there another method for a carniflora to mature? One that doesn’t involve eating human flesh?”

“No— there isn’t, unfortunately. Many people who become enamored with the carniflora follow a similar pattern. They grow unsatisfied with the flower and face a difficult choice between breaking the taboo and indulging their obsession or retaining their humanity. Based on my observations, most often they opt for the former.”

I glanced at my palm, ruminating on the story of Erisa’s father.

Misaki wished for both my blood and flesh. I wondered how far I should go to restore her to human form. My entire hand shook just by thinking about the knife blade cutting deep into my fingers.

“Acquiring human flesh is not a simple feat. However, even if you manage to secure it, feeding it to the carniflora continuously is a foolish choice. This plant has a voracious appetite and if you keep giving it what it desires, you’ll soon find that not even amputating all four limbs would be enough to satiate it.” Erisa interrupted my thoughts as though she could see right through them. “There is no need for you to provide your own body. In the first place, if you ripped it off, you wouldn’t be able to appreciate the carniflora later.”

I understood what Erisa was trying to convey.

If I wanted to perfectly resurrect Misaki, I would need to collect another person’s corpse. One that I could offer her.

At the time, the only way I knew of obtaining human flesh was to rely on one person.

“Could you give me some of the meat you have in your store?”

“No— I can’t do that. I no longer have the time to continue gratifying your blooming desires,” Erisa refused coldly after stuffing the last bite of the panini into her cheeks. “I’m not one to give you a handout. Human flesh is a valuable resource to me and I won’t just give it away for free. If you want to keep a carniflora, then you’ll have to be willing to sully your hands for its sake. The notion of raising one without taking any risks is as foolish as a cat hoping to catch a fish without getting its paws wet.”

“Could you at least point me in the right direction? You know it’s too much to leave me alone in an unfamiliar world like this.”

“The decision to proceed is ultimately yours, but if you seek advice, I can offer some. It’s up to you to carry it out.” Erisa inched closer and spoke in a hushed tone— like a devil tempting a mortal. “The approach doesn’t matter. You can just murder someone, go for the body of a suicide victim, or collect the scattered remains of a traffic accident victim. There’s even the option of sneaking into a morgue or a funeral home, but I wouldn’t recommend it for you.”

“Recommended or not, none of them are feasible for me.”

“Thinking like that will only make it seem impossible. As long as you’re resolute, there’s no need for physical strength or special abilities. It all comes down to luck and timing. If you’re able to secure a corpse, reach out to me. It won’t come cheap, but I can handle the retrieval and dismembering process for you.”

I shook my head in response.

“I can’t pay you money— I’m just a freeloader Ronin.”

“It’s not about money— I will take half of the corpse.”

“Half of it?! Your exorbitant pricing doesn’t just apply to those flowers, does it?”

To my reaction, Erisa revealed a mildly disappointed face.

“In that case, you can do all the work on your own. That is if you can.”

I was unable to counter her compelling argument. 

Despite my best efforts, it seemed inevitable that I would eventually have to rely on her. 

It was a disappointing realization, but I had no alternative.

“The final decision is ultimately yours to make. I’ve merely shown you the options available. Regardless of the outcome, the responsibility for your choices is solely yours. If you are unhappy with the options presented, it is within your power to simply abandon the carniflora along with your resolve. I won’t judge you for it, and it may even bring you relief from your crushing distress.”

Erisa put those cutting words behind her and made her way out of the park. Her attitude was rough, as if she had just completed a grueling task.

The “risk” I first heard about when I welcomed Misaki into my life, combined with Erisa’s recent words, was becoming too much to bear. It was a weight too heavy to carry with a lackluster determination.

I stayed seated on the bench, taking in the serene view before me, until I could muster enough strength to rise. 

The sight of playful children and their watchful mothers unfolded in front me.

If tragedy were to strike and one of those innocent lives were to be lost, a mother’s love would lead them to want their child back, even if it meant straying from the path of humanity. 

An hour passed as I sat lost in thought on the bench, before I finally recovered the energy to return home with a heavy heart. 

As I entered my room, I casually reinjured my still-healing finger and offered it to Misaki to suck on.

I wondered if offering her my blood would be enough to keep myself satisfied. 

The thought of her eventually devouring my finger due to constant re-injury weighed on my mind. 

But despite all the concerns, I couldn’t tear my gaze away from her.