Kōki lay on the floor, still dazed, his body trembling slightly from lingering exhaustion. He hadn't realized he'd been possessed by Sayoko, and even now, the memory of it left a hollow weight in his chest. As he forced himself to sit up, fragments of the events around Kureha and the evil spirit came rushing back.
His gaze drifted to Kureha. She lay bound to the bed, her silver hair sticking damply to her face, her eyes wide open—yet completely blank. The lifelessness in her stare sent a chill crawling down his spine.
Kureha… shouldn't she be possessed? Kōki thought, heart hammering faster. Why do her eyes look so empty… so hollow?
As he struggled to his feet, his knees buckling, something fluttered against the floorboards near him. A folded piece of paper, its edges smudged from his sweaty hands earlier. He stooped shakily and picked it up. His breath caught as he recognized the handwriting.
Sayoko.
He read aloud under his breath, voice cracking:
"If you're reading this, it means I was able to possess you. That's how I managed to write. I can't explain how—it doesn't make sense even to me. But listen carefully: I've gone into Kureha's body to try and help her fight back from within. Wake up the exorcist. Tell him to be ready with his chanting while I try to force that spirit out, It's the only way we can end this."
Kōki's grip tightened, knuckles whitening against the paper. "Sayoko… you really…" His throat tightened, words faltering. The air in his lungs felt heavy. He swallowed hard and shoved down the rising panic. Not now. I have to do what she said.
He staggered toward Raikou, who was slumped against the wall, his coat disheveled, head lowered. "Deacon Crowe! Hey—wake up!" Kōki shook him by the shoulder.
Raikou groaned, grimacing as he rubbed the back of his head. His eyes cracked open, bloodshot but sharp, and he exhaled a long, annoyed sigh. "Kid, you're… loud." His hand fished clumsily into his coat, pulling out a cigarette. He lit it against the trembling flame of a candle, the faint crackle echoing in the oppressive silence. Smoke curled upward, curling into the dim air. "Tch. What did I miss?"
Kōki shoved the note at him, voice tight. "Sayoko—she possessed me. She wrote this. She said she's inside Kureha right now, trying to help her fight the spirit. She wants you ready with your chanting. This is the only shot we've got."
Raikou's cigarette paused between his fingers. He narrowed his eyes at the paper, reading every word with deliberate care. His jaw clenched slightly. "So she managed to possess you… and then the girl as well? That's… unexpected." His tone was calm, but there was a gravity behind it. He exhaled smoke slowly, letting it curl between his teeth. "I assumed she couldn't do something like this, not being completely… departed. But I was wrong."
Kōki leaned closer, urgency burning in his chest. "Then what do we do? She's risking herself in there. She might be fighting that thing right now."
Raikou slipped the note into his pocket, his gaze steady. "Then we be ready. When the spirit gets forced out, I'll take it from there. Once it's outside the body, that's my territory."
Kōki's hands trembled as he pushed himself up a little straighter. His chest tightened with frustration, and he clenched his fist hard enough that his knuckles cracked. "I can't just stand here and do nothing… There has to be a way I can fight too."
Raikou turned his head slowly, the ember of his cigarette glowing in the dim light. For a moment, his expression was unreadable. Then, with a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, he exhaled smoke through his nose. "You know what, Kid… maybe there is a way you can help after all."
Kōki's breath caught, eyes widening. "Really? Tell me!"
Raikou jabbed a finger at him, voice suddenly sharp. "But you listen good. You do exactly as I say, no questions, no hesitation. If you screw it up, you'll drag us all down with you. Got it?"
Kōki tightened his fist against his chest, determination flaring in his gaze. "Got it, Deacon Crowe. I'll follow your lead."
Inside Kureha's body, Sayoko's world was warped into something monstrous. She opened her eyes to find herself standing in a long, dark corridor. The walls were lined with cracked tiles, stained a sickly yellow. The flicker of failing lights buzzed overhead, casting uneven shadows that stretched unnaturally along the floor. The air reeked of iron and mold.
An abandoned hospital.
Her bare feet touched the ground—cold, damp, sticky in places. Every step echoed faintly, like she was walking through someone else's nightmare. From deeper inside, she heard it: faint sobbing. Her chest tightened, her breathing shallow as she followed the sound.
"This place…" she whispered, her voice trembling in the empty hall. "Is this what Kureha's soul looks like now?"
The sobbing grew louder as she pressed forward. Her stomach turned when she saw shapes in the shadows: cages, dozens of them, their bars rusted and bent. Inside some lay slumped figures, unmoving, their faces obscured by shadow. The metallic smell of blood hung heavy in the air.
Sayoko's breath quickened. "No… no, don't tell me…" She pressed a hand to her mouth, gagging as her eyes darted to the surgical tables ahead. Scalpels and bone saws lay scattered, some still wet with crimson. Her foot landed on something soft, wet. She froze.
Her gaze fell downward.
A rotting limb. Pale, mottled flesh, swollen and slick with decay. Her stomach lurched violently, and a strangled scream escaped her throat as she stumbled back, slipping on the damp floor. She crashed onto her side, pain flaring along her ribs. When she turned her head, her face came inches from a corpse staring back at her with hollow eyes. Its lips hung open, teeth exposed in a silent scream.
Sayoko scrambled backward, palms scraping raw against the tiles. "God… what is this place…?!" Her voice shook.
Forcing herself onward, she followed the sobbing until she finally saw her: Kureha. She sat in a small cage, knees pulled to her chest, her silver hair a tangled mess, her eyes red from crying. The blankness was still there, but faint emotion stirred beneath.
Sayoko pressed against the bars, her voice urgent. "Kureha! It's me! Can you hear me?"
The girl lifted her head slowly, her tears shimmering faintly. Her voice was quiet, broken. "You… you're that girl. The one ghost Takeda was with when I took that picture . But… you're supposed to be dead…"
"I am," Sayoko admitted, her throat tight. She reached through the bars, her hand trembling. "But that doesn't matter right now. Listen to me—you need to take control. This is your body, your soul. Not his. You can't let him win."
Kureha shook her head weakly. "I… I can't. He's too strong. He's everywhere in here…I just want this all to stop."
Sayoko grasped her hand, feeling the warmth trembling against her own ghostly grip. "No. He's trying to scare you with this place, make you think he controls everything. But that's a lie. You're stronger than him, Kureha. You have to fight."
Before Kureha could answer, a voice thundered through the hall, cold and vicious.
"How dare you interfere with what's mine."
The air grew colder. Sayoko's breath caught as she turned. From the shadows, the spirit emerged. His body was long and twisted, limbs stretched unnaturally, his frame unnervingly thin. His eye sockets were empty black pits, yet they seemed to pierce through her. Rage rolled off him in waves.
He lunged.
Sayoko was flung across the corridor, her back slamming into a row of rusted beds. Metal clattered to the floor. She gasped, coughing, pain stabbing through her chest. Before she could move, the spirit's clawed hands wrapped around her throat, his grip crushing.
She choked, struggling for breath, her nails clawing at his wrists. His face drew closer, teeth jagged, his voice a hiss. "You… you're not like the others. You smell like a human… precious, vibrant. A soul like yours would keep me fed for decades keeping me from the underworld." His grin widened, saliva dripping. " I'll devour you first, before I finish the girl."
Sayoko's vision blurred, her body convulsing. The edges of her consciousness flickered. No… I can't… I can't let it end like this…
"No… I can't let him do this… This girl means something to Takeda. He really cares about her. He put himself in danger to help me… to help her. Her chest tightened, the despair inside her curling into something hotter, sharper. "Takeda risked everything for me… when everyone else turned their back, when no one believed me while I was suffering from this nightmare, he was the only one who understood, the only one willing to help. So how can I just sit here—helpless, hopeless—and do nothing?"
The least I can do is fight back," Kureha whispered to herself, her voice trembling yet gaining strength as she gripped the cold iron bars of the cage. Her fingers dug in, the metal biting against her skin, but she refused to let go. Her knuckles went white as she pulled with all her strength. Metal shrieked, bending. The bars split apart.
The spirit's head snapped toward her in shock. "What?! That's not possible!"
Sayoko seized the moment. She twisted, driving her knee into the spirit's gut, then kicked upward with every ounce of force she had. Her foot struck his face. He staggered back, his grip breaking. She collapsed to the floor, gasping desperately, her throat raw. She coughed, her chest heaving.
Kureha stood tall, stepping out of the cage. Her body trembled, but her voice rang clear. "Get out of my body!"
Her words reverberated through the warped hall, shaking its very foundation. The spirit shrieked, clutching his head as black smoke poured from his form. He was wrenched violently backward, torn from her body, his shrill cries echoing as the hospital around them shattered into nothingness.
Back in the candlelit room, Kureha's body arched violently. A piercing scream tore from her throat as a thick, black shadow burst free, slamming into the air with a force that rattled the walls. The spirit twisted and writhed, its grotesque body now visible to all. Arms stretched too long, legs bent unnaturally, its head lolling with empty sockets.
Kōki stumbled back, shielding his face from the icy wind that whipped through the room. "It's out—! Crowe, it's out!"
Raikou's eyes narrowed, his cigarette finally slipping from his lips and burning out on the floor. "Good. Now it's our turn." He strode forward, pulling a talisman from his coat. At his side, Kōki mirrored him, clutching one of his own with trembling but determined hands.
Their voices rose together, firm and resonant, cutting through the chaos. "I bind you to this place! You will not flee. You are trapped here by this seal!"
They slammed the talismans down onto the ground in unison. A flash of blinding light erupted, chains of spectral energy lashing upward like living things. The glowing bonds snapped around the spirit's twisted limbs, binding it where it stood. It shrieked, its inhuman frame writhing, thrashing wildly against the glowing restraints, but the chains only tightened with every struggle.
"What—?! I can't… move…!" the spirit howled, its frame twitching.
Raikou's scriptures were in his hand now, his tone low but fierce as he began chanting. "Holy water of divine retribution." He flung droplets forward, sizzling as they struck the spirit's skin. Smoke rose. The smell of burning flesh filled the air. The spirit convulsed, its screams rattling the furniture.
Kōki covered his nose, eyes stinging. "This smell…" His stomach churned.
Raikou pressed forward, his voice unyielding. "Your time in this world is over. The underworld calls for you." He spread his arms wide, scripture glowing faintly in the candlelight. His chant deepened, each word vibrating in the very air, drawing shadows closer, colder.
The spirit writhed against its bonds, its voice shrill. "No! You can't—! I refuse to go back!"
Raikou's eyes burned with intensity. He raised one hand high. "Soul Reaper of the underworld—I call upon you. Seize this wretched soul and drag it to where it belongs!"
The room plunged into silence. The candles flickered violently, nearly extinguished. The air grew suffocating, thick with pressure. Kōki felt his knees weaken, sweat trailing down his temples. His heart thundered.
A sound split the silence: the scrape of metal on stone. From the shadows, a towering figure emerged, cloaked in black. Its presence swallowed the room, its very existence bending the air. A massive scythe gleamed faintly in its grip.
The Soul Reaper.
Kōki's chest seized, his breath shallow. His body shivered instinctively. "That… that thing…"
The Reaper moved with solemn grace, raising its scythe. The spirit shrieked, thrashing, its limbs straining against the binds. "No! Not there! Anywhere but there!!"
Raikou's voice rang like a hammer. "Return to the abyss!"
The scythe fell.
One strike. A clean slash.
The spirit's scream tore through the room, echoing into nothing. Its body ripped apart, shredded into fragments of shadow before vanishing into the void. The Soul Reaper's form faded just as quickly, swallowed back into the darkness.
The silence that followed was deafening. The oppressive weight lifted. The air grew lighter. For the first time since it began, the room felt still.