The late afternoon sun was beginning to dip, throwing long shadows across the quiet district. The town they'd been sent to was almost too quiet, like it was holding its breath. Arata Kurogane walked beside Kusakabe, his eyes scanning the empty streets. His steps were light, careful, but his expression carried that calm curiosity that seemed to follow him everywhere.
Kusakabe walked with his hands stuffed into his pockets, shoulders slouched, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else. His expression was half-bored, half-wary. He wasn't the type to enjoy missions, especially ones that involved semi–special grade curses. But here he was, babysitting the new special grade.
"...So this is it?" Arata asked, breaking the silence as his gaze moved across shuttered shops and abandoned houses. "Doesn't look like much."
"That's the problem," Kusakabe muttered. "A place this big doesn't just go quiet for no reason. People reported weird disappearances, noise at night, and then… nothing. Whole block got cleared out."
Arata hummed softly. "So… a curse."
"Yeah," Kusakabe said flatly. "And since Gojo's busy, guess who gets to tag along with you? Lucky me."
Arata smirked lightly at that but didn't say anything. He understood Kusakabe's sarcasm wasn't directed out of dislike. It was just… how he was.
They turned a corner, entering what looked like the town's central market street. Plastic banners flapped in the wind. Stalls were overturned. Fruits had long rotted in baskets. The air smelled faintly of mildew, like the town itself was decaying.
Arata paused and let his senses stretch out, just like Kusakabe had taught him during their week of training. He let cursed energy flow evenly through his body, not too much, not too little. His breathing slowed.
"…You feel it?" Kusakabe asked, glancing at him.
Arata nodded. "Yeah. The air's heavy. Like something's pressing down."
"Good. At least you're not completely blind." Kusakabe scratched the back of his head. "There's cursed energy here. Thick, but… weird. Doesn't feel like it's just hanging around. Almost like it's moving in waves."
Arata tilted his head. "Waves?"
"You'll see soon enough," Kusakabe said. His tone was casual, but the way his eyes scanned the rooftops said he wasn't relaxed at all.
They continued deeper. The silence of the town started to weigh more. Every step of their shoes echoed strangely, louder than it should have.
Arata noticed it first. "Kusakabe-san… do you hear that?"
"Hear what?"
"The echo." Arata tapped his foot against the ground deliberately. The sound came back, warped, stretching a little longer than normal. "It's… delayed."
Kusakabe frowned. He tapped his own shoe. The echo again. Long. Distorted.
"Tch. Great. Audio tricks. Haven't seen one of these in a while."
Arata glanced at him. "Audio tricks?"
"Curses that mess with sound. They screw with your perception. Sometimes you hear things that aren't there, sometimes you don't hear things that are right behind you. Pain in the ass."
Arata narrowed his eyes, listening again. The silence around them felt wrong now.
They reached a wide intersection where four streets met. Kusakabe slowed down, his expression tightening. He motioned for Arata to stop.
"Notice anything?" he asked.
Arata looked around carefully. The buildings stood tall and empty, windows dark. A streetlight flickered, buzzing faintly. At first, nothing seemed out of place. Then he realized.
"…There's no sound," Arata said quietly.
Kusakabe gave a curt nod. "Exactly. No wind. No birds. Nothing. The world doesn't go this quiet on its own."
Arata felt a shiver crawl up his back. He reinforced his arms lightly with cursed energy, just in case. His training with Kusakabe had drilled it into him—always keep energy flowing, balanced, prepared.
"Don't tense too much," Kusakabe said, almost lazily. "That's how these things get you. They use silence to make you overthink. Next thing you know, you're reacting to stuff that isn't there."
"Noted," Arata said, keeping his voice calm.
The two moved into the intersection. Arata's eyes flicked between shadows, trying not to fall into the trap of silence. His heartbeat sounded too loud in his own ears.
Then—
Tap.
Both of them froze.
The sound came from the left street. A single footstep.
Arata looked that way. Empty street. Nothing.
Another tap echoed. This time from the right street. Then from behind them.
Kusakabe clicked his tongue. "Classic."
"Classic?" Arata asked.
"Yeah. Curse is playing ping-pong with us. Making sound bounce around. Wants us to split up, run in circles. Don't."
Arata smirked slightly. "Don't worry. I'm not that reckless."
"Good. Then maybe I won't hate this job after all."
For the next half hour, they scouted through more streets. The echoes followed them, random footsteps, whispers, scraping noises. Sometimes they came from inside houses, sometimes right behind their ears. Always distorted, always stretched.
But no curse.
Arata finally spoke up. "…It's toying with us."
Kusakabe sighed. "That's usually the case. Semi–special grades don't rush in. They're smarter. Stronger. They like setting the stage."
"The stage?"
"Yeah. A good curse doesn't just fight. It controls the field. By the time you realize it, you're already in its domain—or close to it."
Arata stayed quiet, thinking about his words. Kusakabe wasn't flashy like Gojo, but the way he explained things stuck.
They stopped at the edge of the district, near an old school building. The windows were cracked, doors locked with rust. But the cursed energy here… was heavier. It clung to the walls like smoke.
Kusakabe tilted his head. "This might be the nest."
Arata stepped forward slowly, eyes fixed on the building. The silence here wasn't just heavy—it was crushing. Even their breathing sounded faint.
"…What now?" Arata asked.
"We don't rush in," Kusakabe said. "We watch. Tomorrow, we'll check this place again. If the curse is hiding here, it'll show itself sooner or later. Until then, don't drop your guard."
Arata nodded, though his eyes lingered on the dark windows. Something about the place made his chest tighten.
As they turned back, the faintest sound slipped through the silence—like a laugh, low and distorted, rippling through the air.
Both of them stopped.
Arata's fists clenched instinctively. Kusakabe exhaled through his nose, calm but irritated.
"…Great," Kusakabe muttered. "Looks like we just got its attention.