The morning sun crept through the paper windows, bathing the small village in a pale light that felt too calm for what lingered in its shadows. Akari adjusted his coat and made his way toward the chief's residence. Izan floated silently above him, his black, amorphous body trailing like a warped shadow that only Akari could see.
The chief greeted him warmly at the sliding door, bowing low.
Chief Daigo: "Ah, Akari. You came. Please, come in. Let us talk over tea. A tired spirit cannot fight shadows on an empty stomach."
Akari followed, the tatami mats creaking beneath his feet. The house was traditional, low beams and incense faintly masking the damp odor of something unwashed. The chief poured green tea into two cups, his hands steady, his face calm.
But something about the way he smiled felt wrong.
Akari sipped once. Bitterness lingered longer than it should have. His vision blurred. His limbs grew heavy.
Akari: (slurring) "…What did you… put in…"
The world darkened.
---
He awoke to the sting of rope biting into his wrists. A single lamp flickered, shadows shifting on the wall like things alive. He was tied to a wooden chair, ankles bound, mouth dry. The scent of dirt and mildew stung his nostrils.
Izan hovered above, unconcerned, his glowing eye staring blankly.
Akari: "…You bastard… do something."
Izan's voice was calm, cold, reverberating in his skull.
Izan: "This is your case, fraud. Do you expect me to coddle you? Use your hands. Think. Survive."
A faint shimmer appeared near Akari's thigh. A simple butter knife materialized, its dull edge gleaming faintly in the lamplight.
Akari: "…A butter knife? Really?"
Izan: (flatly) "Tools are meaningless. It is will that decides."
Akari gritted his teeth, working the knife against the rope. His wrists bled, his breath quickened. Every sound in the room seemed louder — the dripping water, the rustle of something just outside the door. After what felt like hours, the rope snapped.
---
Cut.
Sae.
She stood in her bedroom, half-undressed, her kimono slipping from her shoulders. Her face was empty, eyes glazed, movements stiff as if someone else were pulling invisible strings. The paper window shivered as a wind passed, though it was sealed.
In the far corner of the room, the Thing crouched. Its silhouette was wrong — too long, too crooked, too human-like and not at all.
Sae let the last piece of cloth fall. She stood exposed, trembling but unaware.
The Thing leaned forward.
---
Akari burst through the door.
Akari: "SAE!"
The spell broke. Sae gasped, blinking, confusion hitting her like cold water. She looked down at her body, wide-eyed, and scrambled to grab a cloth, clutching it to herself.
The Thing shrieked. Not with a mouth, but with the entire room — a piercing vibration that rattled Akari's bones. Then it bolted, crashing through the paper window, shards of wood and paper fluttering in its wake.
Sae: (still in shock) "Wh–what… what was I doing?"
Akari didn't answer. His eyes were locked on the trail of the Thing as it disappeared into the treeline. He sprinted after it, coat flaring behind him, butter knife still slick with his own blood.
---
Elsewhere.
A dark room.
A man hunched over, his fingers clawing against the wooden wall until splinters lodged beneath his nails. Scratches covered the planks, a dozen, a hundred, as though he'd done it for days. His breath hitched, his shoulders trembled.
It was Ayaka's father.
Father: (murmuring, broken) "I'll avenge you… I'll avenge you, my little girl… Why… why… why…"
He turned slowly. In his hand gleamed a kitchen knife, the blade catching the dim candlelight. His eyes were not human anymore — red veins spread like cracks, and behind them, a storm of rage burned.
The candle sputtered. His face stretched in fury.
He got up
---