The room was quiet. Outside, the late afternoon sun filtered softly through the curtains, painting faint golden streaks across the floor. Kureha lay on Kōki's bed, her body heavy, limbs sinking into the mattress as though every step of the day had pressed itself onto her. Kōki sat beside her, hands adjusting the blankets around her shoulders, his presence steady and reassuring. The faint scent of tea lingered in the air, mixing with the warm, dry smell of the room.
Kureha's fingers curled tightly around the edge of the blanket. Her eyes were heavy, her mind tangled with memories that refused to let go. She glanced at Kōki. He returned her look with a gentle nod, silently asking if she was alright.
"I… I think I should rest for a bit," she whispered, her voice soft and uneven.
"Alright," Kōki replied. His hand brushed a loose strand of hair from her face, lingering for a heartbeat before pulling back.
For a moment, the room seemed calm. Too calm.
Kureha's eyelids drooped. Her body sank further into the mattress. The faint hum of the world outside faded into nothingness. And then—a coldness began to creep along her skin. She shivered and drew the blankets tighter. The warmth she had felt vanished, replaced by a chill that dug into her bones.
A foul odor reached her nose. Burnt incense mingled with something rotting, something that twisted her stomach and made her chest tighten.
Then came the voice.
Crooked, jagged, terrifying.
"You are mine. You will always be mine—mine and mine alone. Your delicious soul belongs to me, and I shall claim it! You belong in the depths of the underworld in torment!!"
Kureha tried to move, to speak, but her body refused. Her mind raced. Where is that coming from? Why can't I move? Takeda…? Where are you?
The cold intensified. It pressed against her, wrapping her in panic. Then a movement at the edge of her vision drew her gaze. Two unnaturally long arms stretched into the room first, followed by a twisted frame of spindly, elongated legs. The entity staggered forward, grotesque in its proportions. Its head turned slightly toward her, and Kureha froze.
Empty black sockets stared back at her, endless pits of nothingness. Her chest tightened.
No… no… it's that thing… Kureha's mind screamed. Her heart thumped violently against her ribs.
Before she could react, it leapt, moving with jerky, unnatural motions. Her shirt—Kōki's shirt she had borrowed—was lifted roughly. Sharp claws pressed against her skin, and she screamed silently as pain tore across her abdomen.
"Stop! It hurts! Someone… anyone… help!" Her body shook violently, sweat slicking her palms against the sheets. Pain flared as the words appeared, engraved across her stomach:
"Your soul is mine."
Her breaths came in shallow, ragged gasps. She gripped the blanket, nails biting into the fabric, but the terror refused to loosen its grip. Darkness seemed to press at her eyelids, suffocating, unrelenting.
"Please… no… I can't… I can't do this anymore… I want it to stop… I want it to end!" Kureha's mind screamed, her paralysis leaving her entirely helpless.
Her scream tore itself from her throat, raw and frantic.
"KUREHA! KUREHA!! Wake up!!"
The sound ripped through the nightmare. Kōki's hands were on her cheeks, slapping gently but urgently.
Kureha's eyes flew open. She stared at him, breath coming in ragged gasps, tears still dripping freely. Without thinking, she flung herself into his arms, clutching him as if holding on could erase the memory of the nightmare.
Kōki felt her trembling against him, and a memory surfaced unbidden—junior high, when he had stood up for a girl being bullied, only to become the next target himself. He remembered the fear, the shame, the isolation. But he had never regretted helping her. That same instinct—to protect,pulsed stronger than ever now. He wouldn't let Kureha face this alone.
"It attacked me… in my sleep… I'm not safe anywhere… I can't take it anymore… please… just make it stop…" she sobbed. Her trembling hands clutched the fabric of his shirt.
Kureha's body trembled against Kōki's chest, her small frame shaking as her heartbeat pounded in rapid, irregular thumps. He could feel each panicked throb against him, a frantic rhythm that seemed to echo through the quiet room.
"It's alright," Kōki murmured, his voice low and steady. He held her tighter, careful not to squeeze too hard, but enough to remind her she wasn't alone. "You don't have to face this by yourself anymore. You're safe now… I'm here."
Her hands clutched at his shirt, weakly gripping the fabric as if it were an anchor. Kōki could feel the slight dampness from her palms, the subtle tremor of her fingers. "I promise… whatever that thing is, we'll get rid of it. You won't have to go through this alone ever again. You hear me, Kureha? Don't give in to it… don't even think about hurting yourself. Not ever."
Kureha's lips trembled. "Um… what… just happened?" Takuto's voice broke the quiet, tinged with confusion.
"I'm not exactly sure," Sayoko said thoughtfully, her fingers drumming lightly against her arm. "But it looks like she had a nightmare…"
She paused, glancing at Kōki. Could it be that same eerie presence I felt before, the one that's been haunting her? Her chest tightened at the thought. I don't even know what to say to him… he suddenly feels so far away.
Her hand lifted almost instinctively toward him, but she froze, hesitating mid-air. I didn't expect him to be… this comforting, she realized, a strange, bittersweet warmth curling in her chest. A fleeting, almost unnoticeable pang brushed through her—why does he make her feel safe like that?—and then she pushed it aside, focusing back on the moment.
The front door creaked open, followed by the sound of firm footsteps against the wooden floor.
"Deacon Crowe is in the building," Raikou announced as he stepped inside, his low voice carrying an edge of finality. His coat shifted slightly as he moved, the faint clink of metal charms brushing together.
Kōki frowned, his irritation plain. "What took you so long?"
Raikou's gaze swept across the dim room before landing on him. "I had to prepare all of my equipment. And before that—an exorcism. It delayed me longer than I'd hoped." His expression hardened. "Still, I can already sense it… there's a dangerous presence here. You weren't exaggerating, Kid."
Kōki straightened at the words but quickly nodded. "Then let's hurry. I don't want nightfall to give it an advantage."
Raikou took a step further inside, eyes narrowing as he examined the modest space. The faint rustle of his coat filled the silence. "…So this is your room. Ordinary. Just like your face." His tone was flat, cutting, and dismissive.
Kōki clenched his jaw. "Now's not the time for that. Just focus on the job."
A faint smirk tugged at Raikou's lips, but it was gone in an instant. His gaze shifted to the floating figure near the corner. "Hn. You're looking far more stable than before. When I first saw you, you looked like death clinging to air."
Takuto bristled, his form flickering as he drifted closer. "Tch… Just so you know, I'll get my payback someday."
Raikou's reply came without hesitation, his voice steady and cold. "When that day comes, it will also be the day you're exorcised. Count on it."
The room's air tightened for a moment. Then Raikou moved past him, his boots scraping lightly against the floor. He stopped at Kureha's bedside and gave a short bow of acknowledgment. "You must be the girl I've heard about. Kureha, correct? My name is Raikou Kazehara. I am an exorcist. There's no need to explain why I'm here."
Kureha's hands trembled faintly in her lap. She lowered her gaze, voice quiet. "No… you don't need to explain."
"Good." Raikou's answer was immediate. "That means you already understand why what comes next is necessary."
Without another word, Raikou reached into his bag and pulled out thick rope. The fibers were rough, dry against his gloves as he began looping it around Kureha's wrists and the bed frame.
She flinched at the first touch, her breath catching. As the rope tightened, she winced, the coarse strands scraping against her skin and leaving a faint sting. Her fingers twitched, but Raikou's knots held firm.
Kōki's eyes widened. He stepped forward. "Why are we restraining her?"
Raikou didn't pause. His voice carried weight. "We are performing an exorcism. And when a spirit senses its end, it will attempt to survive by possession. Once possessed, a human body can wield unnatural strength." He tightened the rope firmly but carefully. "If that happens, she could easily break bones—or worse. This is a precaution."
When he moved to her ankles, the rope pressed against the thin bones, biting into the skin with every pull. Kureha's shoulders trembled as the restraint grew tighter, the rough texture rubbing whenever she shifted even slightly. A quiet gasp escaped her lips as the final knot snapped into place.
Raikou then turned toward the others. His gaze swept across the room, cold and commanding. "Shut every window. Turn off the lights. From this point forward, only candlelight will be permitted."
Kōki exhaled slowly and moved to the window. The air outside carried the faint chill of early evening. As he closed the latch, the dimness of the room deepened. The flick of the light switch followed, leaving them in thick shadow until Raikou struck a match. The sulfur stung faintly in Kōki's nose before the flame caught the first candle. Warm orange glow filled the room in trembling waves.
Sayoko floated closer, her translucent form catching the faint light. Her wide eyes lingered on Raikou, studying his composure. He really knows what he's doing, she thought, her chest tightening with awe. This man—Raikou Kazehara… Deacon Crowe—is the real thing.
"Sayoko and that useless ghost's assistance will improve the odds of this exorcism succeeding," Raikou said, his voice steady and sharp.
Takuto's form flickered closer, his eyes narrowing. "Who exactly are you calling a useless ghost?"
Raikou didn't flinch. His gaze pierced through the dim candlelight. "Both of you are spirits. You should understand possession—taking control of a vessel temporarily. In this scenario, only you can perform it. Sayoko isn't truly a ghost, so she cannot."
Sayoko's translucent form drifted slightly, her faint glow trembling as the words sank in.
Kōki's brow furrowed. "A… possession? What does that even mean?" His voice carried a mix of confusion and unease, the faint scent of burning candle wax filling his nostrils.