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Chapter 9 - The Echo That Laughs

Riku rested for a while. 

The absolute chaos and aberration that was the last few hours had been nothing but forgotten. In sleep, he was in a world that was entirely his own, untouched by madness and pain. 

He then woke up, and reality had struck him back into place with the tenderness of a blade drawn too fast. 

Damn it… Just a little longer. Let me sleep for a little longer.

Riku yawned and stretched his arms. The final embers of his exhaustion clung stubbornly, refusing to fade. Annoying was an understatement. 

He glanced at Akio, who was doing the same thing. 

"You look well." Riku observed.

"Thanks. Not so bad yourself." Akio replied. 

Riku looked around. No sound. No presence. No darkness.

No fear. They were fine. For now. 

Riku rubbed his eyes. Too quiet, he thought. Even the stillness from before felt… fuller than this. Now, the silence was hollow.

He leaned against one of the cracked wooden pillars, his hand brushing against a faded inscription. The glyphs were old—older than the shrine itself. They pulsed faintly under his fingers, like veins beneath paper-thin skin. Forgotten language, half-scraped off by time, or something worse.

He stared at them for a moment longer than he should have, until the inkblots seemed to swim and dance. 

Was it always this dark here?

 No, not dark—just drained. Like the room had bled out all its light and was now clinging to the afterimage.

A gust of wind passed through the haiden, but nothing outside moved. The trees remained still. The torii in the distance didn't creak. Even the dust didn't stir.

Akio didn't seem to notice. Or maybe he was pretending not to.

Riku looked up at the rafters. The wooden beams were splintering, but they didn't look like they had collapsed from age. More like they'd been twisted, like something had thrashed against them from inside. Something loud. Something laughing.

A chill settled into his skin, slow and uninvited.

He turned to the side. For just a second—just a blink—he thought he saw something watching him from the far end of the room. Two eyes, slitted and shimmering, suspended mid-air like stars in a black ocean. Then they were gone.

He shook his head. Just leftover fear, he told himself. Residue from a nightmare that didn't know it was over.

You're seeing things, Riku. Get it together!

Akio stood, brushing off his sleeves. "We should move. We can't stay here forever."

"And go where?" Riku asked. 

Akio began. "Well, for starters, we should try to get out of the haiden and—" 

Riku interrupted, panic and incredulity contorting his visage. "What? Are you crazy? You said it yourself that this is a safe area! We step out there, we run the risk of getting attacked by that thing again!"

Akio exhaled. "I know. But think about it. That thing—whatever it was—didn't attack us here, right? So it probably recognizes the haiden as sacred space. Barrier or no barrier, it didn't cross."

Riku blinked. "…Yeah?"

"That's exactly the problem," Akio continued. "We don't know why it stayed back. Maybe it was bound by a spiritual law. Maybe it was just toying with us. Either way, that thing vanished—and I don't trust disappearances."

He walked to the threshold of the shrine's haiden, peering past the worn sliding doors into the cracked expanse of the courtyard. "It could be waiting. Gathering strength. Worse, it might be calling others."

Riku looked uneasy.

Akio kept talking. "If we wait here and it comes back stronger, this 'safe zone' won't mean anything. We're not protected—we're just overlooked. For now."

Riku frowned, still unsure.

Akio stared Riku down. "My chains barely contained it, even with the stipulation I set. We stay here, there's every chance that thing gets stronger. And every chance we run the risk of putting everyone in your town at risk. Is that what you want, Riku?" 

"No!" Riku didn't even need to be asked twice. The people in his town were good people. His life was mundane before. No apparitions, no weird dreams, no hearing things. Nothing. But there were others who were living that life too. 

The old man around the corner of his apartment who sold Riku some kikufuku after he failed his exams. His old landlord that was on him for rent. These people were there for him. These people exist. 

These people were alive. 

They were living. Doing their duty and living the way they could in a world as askew and cruel as this one. Trying to get by despite the tribulations life always had in store. Letting them die because of his own doubt? 

No. Riku didn't know what would happen. He knew that he couldn't ensure and promise on his own life. But that didn't matter. If he died, he died. 

He wasn't going to die cowering away from this shrine and its absurdities; he wasn't going to die cold and alone… He was going to die for the normal life he had. The normal life that others are living at this very second, even if that normalcy would pass soon. 

But above all else, Tetsuya. He needed Tetsuya back. Safe, alive, whole, and himself. If that wasn't going to be the case, and through his inaction, there wouldn't be enough time and affirmation in the universe for him to forgive himself.

Riku nodded. "Yeah. I'm ready." 

Akio nodded, a smile forming on his face. "Then let's get the hell out of here!"

They stepped through the creaking threshold, shoes scraping the aged wood as they left the haiden behind. The morning sky above looked dull—drained of color, like it was stained in the remnants of a long-faded dream. Not overcast, not bright. 

Just... pale.

The offering box still sat at the top of the shrine stairs, still and silent as it had been before. Riku lingered near it. Something about the air felt off—thick, like it held its breath with them.

He peered down the stairs.

The trees.

They were wrong.

Every branch was facing the shrine.

No wind. No birdsong. Just silence, woven tight as a noose.

Akio placed a hand on Riku's shoulder. "We're good. Keep going."

One step down.

Two.

And then it hit.

A sharp ringing in Riku's ears—no, not ringing. 

Laughter.

It came from everywhere and nowhere, each burst a jagged splinter sawing through his skull.

Riku gripped the rail, breathing fast.

Akio tensed. "Behind us—!"

The world darkened without warning, colors draining into an ashen void. From the space just behind the offering box, the air tore open like paper soaked through.

From that tear, something poured out—crawling, oozing, unraveling into form.

A figure, vaguely humanoid but impossibly tall, stood motionless.

Skinless, faceless—its body was a shifting tangle of sinew and smoke, bleeding with script that seared into the air with every twitch. Its arms hung like pendulums. Its neck twisted once. Then again. Then a third time, cracking like a snapped tree trunk.

Its voice was broken glass dragged across marble. "Devotion… failed. Blessings… useless. Humans… obsolete!"

Riku stumbled back. "That—That's it. That's the thing from before—!"

"No," Akio said, drawing breath sharply. "It's part of it. A fragment."

The apparition took a slow, dragging step forward. The ground beneath its feet cracked, not from weight—but from presence. Riku felt his legs freeze.

Not from fear. From command.

As if the world itself was kneeling.

The thing tilted its head toward him.

"You… saw me," it whispered, layers of voices stacked atop each other like a tower collapsing in slow motion.

It raised one hand.

And the sky behind it screamed open.

"MOVE!" Akio shoved Riku out of the way and dove in the opposite direction, right before the hand slammed down on where they stood. 

Riku rolled on the hard, wooden floor. He shot up, brushing himself off. 

The apparition had no beginning or end as far as he could tell. Even that hand seemed to span outward infinitely, as if this shrine, this very world, was its hand. The darkness that it exuded was so thick, it was almost tangible. 

"Dear God… What the hell are you?" Riku didn't know what to think. His brain had shut off. He felt blank. A curtain concealing his thought process. What could he do against something so odious, yet something so… human?

Akio didn't waste a second. His arm swung outward—and chains burst into existence from his wrist, clattering through the air like they had minds of their own. They weren't just tools; they were extensions of will, of conviction, each one dancing like silver serpents.

For every move you make on him, my chains and my body get stronger!

"Iron Vow: Binding Rampart!"

The chains obeyed. They spiraled around him, then launched outward—piercing the very space between them and the apparition. With acrobatic grace, Akio vaulted into the air, spinning over the creature's grasping limbs. His feet landed on a floating loop of chain mid-air, pivoting him into a whiplash of motion. His muscles rippled and coiled with newfound strength, that seemed to have come from nowhere. 

The chains snapped forward, binding the apparition's arms, anchoring it with glowing sigils. Akio dropped low and twisted, dragging the weight of the creature in a semicircle. Another chain coiled into a shield just as a tendril of smoke lashed out.

The two forces met. Sparks burst like dying stars.

But the creature didn't stop.

It smiled—if one could call it that. Its skinless mouth tore open vertically like a rotting fruit.

Akio gritted his teeth and leapt back. More chains erupted into spirals, catching him mid-air and throwing him into another tight curve. He rebounded again, spinning past the creature's left flank—and slammed an elbow into its chest.

A ripple tore through the apparition's form.

And yet, it stood.

Unfazed.

Riku watched, useless. His knees wouldn't move. His breath caught on the edge of a sob. His hands hung limp. His stomach twisted. 

He felt it again. Powerlessness. 

The sense of dread... The uselessness. 

The damn rooftop. 

It was all flooding back like a tsunami. Crashing over everything and leaving nothing intact in its wake. 

Akio summoned another volley of chains, these ones sharper, shaped like spears. They pierced the air, aiming for the creature's skull.

The apparition let them hit.

Then it laughed—an echo of the same sound from earlier—and shattered the chains by existing. The silver turned to dust.

Akio's eyes widened.

In that instant, the apparition raised a hand—and backhanded Akio mid-air with an invisible force.

Akio flew, spinning, smashing through the outer post of the shrine, collapsing into a heap of broken wood and dust.

"AKIO!!"

Riku's scream broke the silence.

But it didn't matter.

The thing turned toward him.

One step.

Riku stumbled back. Every part of him screamed to run. But his legs refused.

Another step.

The air turned heavy. Time slowed.

Riku's mouth opened but no sound came out. The world had reduced itself to this moment. Just him. And it.

I can't move... My body won't move! Damn it all!

It was getting closer. 

Oh, great! Screw my physics test!

Then—

The shrine vanished.

No sound. No flash.

Just gone.

Riku blinked.

He was standing somewhere else.

His feet were on stone. Wet, jagged, cold. In front of him stood a grand idol—decayed, but unmistakable.

It was that thing. The apparition.

But it wasn't attacking him. In fact, it didn't see him. It wouldn't have been crazy to say that the apparition was just as confused as Riku was. 

Next to it stood someone else.

Or rather… something else.

The figure towered in presence, even if its wiry frame looked like it could snap under a stiff breeze. It wore ash-grey rags that clung to him like smoke, layered like burial shrouds draped across a forgotten marionette. At the waist, hung strings of fractured charms and bone chimes that rattled with every breath of the air. The mask—ivory and split with jagged ink-smiles—twitched between expressions without ever moving. And beneath it, from the slits where human eyes should have been, coiled spirals spun endlessly inward, like the drain of a galaxy devouring its own light.

Around its body, orbited three glowing skulls, each laughing in a distinct tone: one deep and guttural, one shrill and childlike, and one so distorted it seemed to echo backward in time. The skulls whirled faster when he laughed, trailing behind his floating form like spectral satellites. Its arms occasionally detached at the elbow, twirling midair as if they had a rhythm of their own, only to rejoin with an audible click that sounded far too surgical. Its fingers were long, jointed strangely, like instruments meant more for puppet craft than combat—and yet they held power. Trembling, paradoxical power.

A jester.

It was laughing.

Loud, howling laughter.

"AhahahaHAH!! That was perfect! The dumbass really thought he had you! Oh, I love this guy already! He's got guts. No brains. But guts!"

Riku stepped back. All he could feel is the whiplash of relief from being saved, and the absolute perplexity of whatever the hell stood before him. 

"Who—who are you?!"

Akio staggered in beside him, eyes wide, still limping. He stared up at the cackling figure. "The hell…?"

The figure twirled the mask one last time, then flicked it into the air where it vanished like smoke.

Then he bowed, deeply, theatrically. "Greetings, gentlemen! I'm the humble trickster of misplaced reverence, the Joker in the Divine Court, the Whisper Between Screams—"

He popped upright with a wink. "—but you, Boss, can call me Kapaala."

Riku blinked. "B—Boss?"

Akio furrowed his brow. "You summoned that thing?"

Riku scoffed. "Summoned? This thing? I haven't got a damn clue on who, er... WHAT the hell he is!"

Kapaala gasped with mock offense. "Oh Riku, that hurts. Right here." He clutched his chest dramatically. "But no matter! Our relationship is brand new and full of potential! We're gonna have a lot of fun, you and me! Glued at the hip! The entirety of the COSMOS will bow before us!"

Riku stared at him, his brain melting under the confusion. "Uh huh..."

The apparition behind him twitched.

It raised its arm again, slow as a death sentence.

Riku froze.

But Kapaala didn't even turn.

He just grinned. And the grin widened.

And—

The apparition stopped.

Twitched.

Then punched itself in the face.

The blow cratered its skull and sent it reeling backward.

"…What?" Riku whispered.

Even Akio had no idea how to respond.

Kapaala cackled, doubling over in laughter. "HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Gets me every time. That guy's more retarded than a room of 5-year-olds!"

Riku tried to process it. Failed.

Akio clutched his side and stumbled forward. "We need to get out of here. Now."

The apparition shot back up.

Kapaala snorted. "Oh jeez... That's something only a dead mother could love." 

Riku glared at the jester. Where did it come from? How did it send that apparition away like a ragdoll?

That didn't matter for now. He ran to Akio and helped him out of the haiden and to the outside of the torii gate. 

Kapaala floated just above the ground, humming to himself and spinning a coin that had no faces.

Akio caught his breath. "Riku… Did you summon him?"

"I—I don't know. I didn't do anything."

Akio raised an eyebrow. "You definitely did something. The thing's calling you his boss."

Riku looked down. It's true. Whatever it was, Riku had a hand in it.

Akio gave him a tired look. "Well… thanks for saving my life."

Kapaala smirked. "Awww. Are you two gonna kiss now?"

Riku and Akio both snapped, "Shut up!"

Kapaala smirked. "Hehehehe! As you wish." 

They both stood there, panting, the shrine groaning faintly around them.

Somehow… they were still alive.

And a new forced had joined the fray.

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