So this is the kind of hair that Izumi is afraid of. Hair that gets caught in the drain after you take a shower. Hair that clogs up the pipes, sucks in the chemicals of the shampoo and mutates, evolves, until it makes up its mind that maybe it'd be nice to suck in some humans too—

I mean, real hair doesn't do that of course, but I assume this is what hair does in Izumi's mind because otherwise there is no way to explain the current happenings. I reprimand myself in my head for thinking that Izumi is calm and no-nonsense and has no imagination. Clearly this living and devouring hair is more than enough proof that Izumi does have an imagination, one that goes in scary directions too.

Yukiya continues to scream, and before I can do anything (I'm not sure what I can even do—get scissors?) the hair makes a slurping noise and all of a sudden my fire-wielding friend has disappeared down the drain. I have no idea how, considering the drain is this small and Yukiya is this big. I wonder if Izumi's parents have suffered the same fate and that is why they are not home, but there really isn't time to mull over this because Yukiya just got sucked into a bathtub pipe and even though I wouldn't know where the pipe goes, it would most likely be someplace with a lot of water.

Yukiya hates water. I know this from first-hand information gained in his mind where I was attacked by angry water tornadoes. I have to help him. And the only way I can help him is, well—

I hate to say it, but I have to go down the drain too. I step closer to the bathtub apprehensively, wondering why the hair took Yukiya yet didn't notice me. Did he do something to enrage it? Maybe I should try too.

"Hey, hair," I say, "you're ugly and drippy and have split ends."

No effect. It's true that it's a totally lame way to attempt to achieve my objective, but you can't blame me because it's not like I have any experience in insulting hair. I'm sure you don't either.

I decide to try something else. Looking closer into the bathtub, I find a few stray hairs still stuck in the drain, long and black and innocent. I try to pull them out—

The next thing I know I am covered in hair. Not in the way that, you know, Old English Sheepdogs are covered in hair, but as in being tangled up by dark, slimy strands that seem to slither even harder than Hiroki's snakes. I wonder for a second why I'm not as afraid as I should have been, then decide it's most likely because despite it being a very uncomfortable sensation it's still tons better than riding a pregnant spider.

The hair twists and knots and curls around me, making it harder and harder to breathe. I open my mouth to scream but the hair comes right in, and trust me, eating hair isn't the kind of thing you would want on your agenda. Just when I am wondering when this will end, everything whooshes and turns dark and dank and cold. As soon as my eyes adjust to the lack of light, I realize that I'm in the bathtub pipe now, going down, down, down, and I can't help thinking that this must be what Alice in Wonderland felt when she fell down the rabbit hole. Alice had way less hair troubles than I do, of course, but the feeling that the fall would never end seems quite similar. In fact, the fall takes so long that I have time to carefully consider all my options, which vary widely in different directions depending on where I land.

Where I land—that's the question. In the sewers, perhaps? Maybe in some underground lake? Maybe—

All sorts of possibilities appear in my brain, but I have to say I sure did not expect ending up in a pot.

Yes, a pot. I land in a pot.

A pot that is sitting atop a ready-made fire, with water inside that is slowly beginning to heat up. Right now it feels nice, like I'm in a hot spring, but it would be a matter of seconds before it gets bad.

Feeling very disoriented and confused, I quickly look around to get my bearings. I'm in a pot—you already know that. The hair that has wrapped itself over me is slowly starting to retreat. I follow its progress, eyes trailing along the long tresses, until I come face to face with a... witch.

I feel sorry for calling her that, but there's no other way to describe her. Like, she's wearing a witch hat and robes and riding on a broom, for heaven's sake. She also has a sallow, greenish face and long, long black hair, hair that is currently unwrapping itself from me and heading back to its master proudly, like it wants praise for a job well done. Somewhere behind the witch, I see several others like her in the background, though facing different directions and manning their own pots. This one is the only one that is looking at me.

"Hi," the witch says, pointing at me with a sharp nail that looks half-eaten by mold. She grins toothily and I notice in the dim light that her teeth are either missing or decayed.

"Hi?" I say tentatively, internally smacking myself for being so instinctively friendly. My parents have taught me well in that aspect, I suppose.

The witch points at the pot, the fire, her hair, and smiles a wide smile. "You, food," she states simply.

Two words, and I totally get it. She's going to boil me. And eat me.

"I'm not tasty," I inform her.

"Food," she continues to state.

"Uh, I can play you a song?" I suggest, feeling like the biggest idiot in the world. The heat of the water is increasing, I can feel it—and I shift uncomfortably, though it only makes it much worse. I won't be able to take it for much longer, I'm sure. I try to stand up, and immediately the hair is all over me again, pushing me down even lower.

"No escape," the witch says calmly.

"Okay, okay, I won't! Please stop!" I beg, as the hair keeps dragging me down, down, until I have to tilt my face up for one last quick gasp before being completely submerged.

It's impossibly hot. Burning. Every muscle in my body screams and I struggle to go up, to breathe. Drowning sucks, but I bet it must be ten time worse for Yukiya, who's afraid of water. Oh no, Yukiya, where is Yukiya? He can't die, not now, not when he and Ririka have finally acknowledged their feelings for each other—

I marvel at my brain for being able to consider Yukiya's well-being and romantic problems even in such a compromising situation. Luckily I see him seconds later, as the familiar feeling of passing through cool water washes over me and I wake up.

See, this is what spotters are supposed to do—pull at just the right time.

I cough and breathe in, blinking my eyes open to meet Yukiya's. He's sitting up from his mattress opposite me, looking just as shaken and disturbed, perhaps even more than me because Ririka quickly throws her little short arms over him for comfort.

"It was bad?" Katsuki says, sympathetically.

I nod wordlessly, as does Yukiya, who is leaning against Ririka and looking like he has never been gladder that he's alive.

"Good thing that Katsuki pulled you out in time then," Natsumi comments, "I could never figure out when's the right moment."

I am about to mutter my assent when it hits me that it was Natsumi speaking. I haven't spoken to her for less than one day but it feels like two hundred years. I leap down my mattress and run over to hug her. "How were the balloons?" I whisper.

"Can you please not remind me!" Natsumi exclaims in pretend offense.

"They were pretty," Ririka chimes in, "lots of colors, I don't know what there's to be afraid about."

"Shut up," Natsumi says crossly, but pats Ririka on the head to show that she's not actually mad.

"So you guys already finished your mission," I say enviously. It makes sense that they would, considering Yukiya and I did waste an eternity sitting around watching TV after all. I literally finished watching a whole anime episode.

"Yeah, we did," Katsuki says, folding a paper crane out of nowhere because he doesn't like to leave his fingers idle. "So, what happened in Izumi's head? Can we help?"

"Witches," I say with a shudder. "Witches with long hair that stretches out of drains and kidnaps people to put into boiling pots to be eaten."

"Pretty much that," Yukiya confirms.

"I didn't know Izumi's got such a... weird mind," Natsumi comments.

"Neither did I! And we're best friends!" I groan.

"Come on, it's not like Izumi would walk up to you and say, hey Tomomi, you know what? Witches, pots, hair, shower drains!" Yukiya points out with his usual exaggerated hand gestures.

"That's true," I say, feeling slightly better about myself but not much. "Either way, we need to go back in again. I don't know what those witches have done to Izumi... they probably didn't cook her because she's still alive, but still I don't want to leave her like this for much longer."

"I'll go in," Hiroki volunteers from the side. He still looks tired, but his eyes are as determined as puppy eyes can look. "I mean, I have scythes. I can deal with hair."

"Then I'll go in too," Katsuki immediately volunteers as well, but is cut in by a chorus of protests because everyone wants him to stay and spot. He is the most reliable spotter we have, as shown in what he has just done to save us.

"How about I go in?" Ririka pipes up. "Witches can fly. But I can fly too so I can handle them!"

It is indeed good logic, so we decide that this is what should happen. Meanwhile, Natsumi suggests that she and I can check out Anna's mind. I feel kind of bad for Daisuke because everyone seems to have concluded that it's okay to leave him till the last, but then he does seem remarkably fine just sleeping. The rats that he is afraid of don't seem to be causing much disturbance. Daisuke has always been the happy-go-lucky kind of guy, I guess—it's hard to worry about him when he is never seen not smiling.

"Now that this is settled, you guys can maybe give us some suggestions on how to deal with the witches?" Ririka says as she hops onto a mattress, ready to go.

"You drown them," Shun hisses, speaking for the first time after I have waken up, which is curious in itself because he isn't one to not talk. His voice sounds heavy, almost unfamiliar, and when he focuses his downcast eyes on us, I feel like I'm looking at a stranger.

There's a certain piercing, sour viciousness in his face as he repeats what he says again. "You drown them. Witches are supposed to be drowned."