Sayoko clenched Kōki's fists, feeling the warmth of his skin and the tension coiling in his muscles. Her fingers brushed over his face, tracing the line of his jaw, feeling the rapid thrum of his pulse beneath her touch. I… I'm really inside him, she thought, breath catching in Kōki-kun's chest. Her heart raced as adrenaline shot through his body, and a fine sheen of sweat prickled along his forehead.
Okay… now what? She swallowed, trying to steady both her voice and his breathing. Earlier, Deacon Crowe had explained how spirits could possess humans and communicate with other entities. Maybe she could use this connection to reach Kureha, to help her take back control from the inside.
Sayoko's gaze fixed on Kureha, restrained on the bed. The evil presence twisted inside the girl, a dark aura pressing against the edges of her mind. A tiny part of Kureha's mind screamed, trapped beneath the spirit's dominance, clawing at the edges of consciousness. Her fingers curled slightly, almost hesitantly, betraying a trace of her own will beneath the evil control.
"Spirit that occupies this girl," Sayoko said, forcing her voice through Kōki's vocal cords, voice trembling slightly. "My name is Sayoko Mizuhara—the spirit that possesses this vessel.
A chilling, manic laugh exploded from Kureha, rattling the room and piercing Sayoko's mind. Kōki-kun's limbs tensed, fingers curling tightly against the sheets at her command. "And? Just shut the hell up!!" the spirit screeched, voice vibrating through Kureha directly into Sayoko's consciousness. She pressed her hands against the back of Kōki-kun's neck instinctively, grounding herself in the vessel's body, feeling the sheen of sweat across his forehead.
"Why torment this girl? Why Kureha?" Sayoko demanded, trying to push her awareness deeper toward the spirit, pressing Kōki-kun's chest forward to steady his breathing despite the dread twisting his stomach.
The spirit's tone slithered through Kureha: proud, cruel, and unrelenting. "You wouldn't understand. I feed on fear, anxiety, and anger. That's what keeps me from being sent to the underworld. "It was already sealed in destiny that I'd be sent there—I've done a lot of terrible things when I was alive."
"That still doesn't explain why you chose her to be your next victim," Sayoko demanded, voice trembling but steady.
"It was just by chance," the spirit admitted with a dark chuckle. "I stumbled across her when she was performing a ritual. A lonely and anxious soul inviting a spirit into her sanctuary—who could resist such a delight? Her soul is delicious and pure, one that will buy me a long, long time before the Soul Reapers catch up to me."
"So you plan on using her to keep yourself in this world?" Sayoko pressed, chest tight with dread.
"And what if I am? What can you do to stop me?" the spirit hissed, cold and sharp. "I'm attached to this girl's body and soul. I can't be exorcised. There is nothing you can do."
Sayoko's stomach twisted at the audacity. She pressed Kōki-kun's hands into fists at his sides, muscles under her control tensing deliberately as she prepared for confrontation. Sweat slicked across his temples, the hair at the back of his neck damp as she flexed him forward, leaning closer to Kureha.
It was true. Not even an exorcist could remove something that was fused so deeply with someone's soul. Helplessness coiled tightly in Sayoko's chest, pressing against her lungs as if she could barely breathe. What hope do I have alone? Her eyes fell to the floor of Kōki's room. The soft carpet beneath his feet, the faint smell of paper and pencil shavings from the desk—it all felt painfully real. Every muscle in Kōki's body tensed under her control, small tremors running down his arms as if the body itself sensed the danger.
Then, a spark of thought flared in her mind—maybe if I enter Kureha's body… maybe I can help her fight from the inside. She swallowed, feeling her throat tighten as a bead of sweat ran down Kōki-kun's temple.
Carefully, she guided Kōki's body across the bed, each movement deliberate. The mattress creaked faintly under his weight, and Sayoko could feel the slight resistance of the sheets beneath him. His hands pressed against the mattress, fingers curling and flexing as if bracing for impact, and she could sense the nervous energy pulsing through the body. Focus. Steady… She steadied her own breathing to match the rhythm of Kōki-kun's rapid pulse.
When she positioned herself above Kureha, she reached out with her spirit, attempting to link with the girl's soul. The air around the room seemed to thicken, a subtle static buzzing against her skin. Then, without warning, a vision slammed into her consciousness like a tidal wave. Her stomach twisted violently, a cold sweat running down Kōki's neck, and her hands trembled as if the sheer force of the memory threatened to throw her off.
Fragments of a man's life unfolded in shattered, nightmarish pieces. He was a brutal serial killer who preyed on young adults and teenagers—especially girls. The images were raw and grotesque: he stripped their skin, stuffed their bodies with cotton, turning them into macabre dolls to sleep beside. The terror, the pleading cries, the helpless panic—all of it pressed against Sayoko's mind, sending sharp pangs of nausea through Kōki's stomach. Her breath hitched, muscles quivering as she fought to maintain control of his body.
Despite his crimes, he had been meticulous. No bodies were ever found, so each victim became just another name on a missing person's list. It took years before the police finally pieced the disappearances together and linked them to one location. When they searched the isolated shed, they found the preserved bodies of all the missing individuals. The truth shattered the community.
The man was apprehended and executed for his crimes.
But even death didn't stop him.
After dying, his spirit continued to haunt and torment others—teenagers, the vulnerable, the lonely—driving them to suicide or death by sleep deprivation. Then he would trap their souls and send them to the underworld in his place.
Sayoko's hands clenched, knuckles whitening as tension ran through Kōki's arms. A shiver ran down his spine—hers—and her stomach turned violently. Tears pricked her eyes, hot and bitter. How could someone commit such horror… how could a human be capable of this?
"You're a monster," she whispered through Kōki, voice trembling, lips quivering. "How could you do all these things? Do you have no heart?"
The spirit's voice echoed through Kureha, proud and cruel. "When I was alive, I killed people for pleasure. It made me feel good—watching them beg for help, skinning them alive, hearing them cry while knowing no one would come. It was fun."
He paused, tone shifting slightly, almost casual, like discussing the weather. "Now? I only kill to stay alive."
Sayoko's chest tightened, directing Kōki's fists into the mattress. She felt the tension travel up his arms, muscles flexing under her control. "You're only delaying the inevitable," she replied firmly, though her voice shook. "I can't even imagine the punishment waiting for you—for everything you've done to these poor, innocent people."
Desperation surged through her. Her eyes scanned Kōki's room, landing on a pencil and a sheet of paper near the desk. With precise control, she guided his hand to grab the pencil, pressing hard into the paper. Each stroke left deep grooves, etched with frantic urgency. "I hope Kōki-kun sees this," she murmured, voice low, urgent, teeth clenched.
Finally, Sayoko withdrew from Kōki's body, leaving him momentarily still.
A strange disorientation hit him, as if he'd woken from a vivid dream.
Kōki's eyes fluttered open, blinking rapidly as the world swam into focus. His head throbbed sharply, a dull ache spreading across his temples. What… happened? His vision wavered, and for a moment he couldn't remember where he was.
As he tried to push himself upright, a strange weight beneath him made him freeze. Confusion shot through him, and his stomach dropped. Wait… why does it feel like someone is under me? His gaze darted down—and his heart skipped.
No… no way… I'm on top of Kureha?! Panic surged. His hands scrambled on the sheets, fingers clawing for grip, but he couldn't stabilize. With a sudden flail, he toppled off the bed, hitting the floor with a thud that sent a sharp ache up his side.
He pressed his palms against the floor, heart hammering, breath ragged, sweat slicking his temples. How did this even happen?! His chest rose and fell rapidly as he tried to catch his breath, every nerve on edge.
Then it hit him — not just the pain, but something else. A weight that wasn't his. His breath caught as a shiver rippled through his chest, like another heartbeat had pulsed inside him and vanished. Panic prickled under his skin. His muscles quivered with a tension that didn't feel like his own, as though some fragment of someone else's fear still clung to him, refusing to let go.
Outside the room, Takuto floated anxiously, translucent form flickering slightly. His hands clenched together, fingers tightening with tension. The air around him felt heavy, thick with unease, every twitch of Kureha's body sending shivers down his spectral form.
"What's happening in there…? I want to find out… but…" His voice trailed off, strained and low, a chill creeping through him. "That spirit that possesses her… it's definitely creepy. I knew it…"