It was almost 11:00 p.m. when Kazuhiko Jiyūhara found himself alone in the dim light of his room. The flickering glow of an old oil lamp danced against the walls, casting shifting shadows that seemed to have a life of their own. On the worn wooden table in front of him lay an old book, its pages yellowed by time. Kazuhiko turned them carefully, each sharp crack echoing in the deep silence of the night.
Suddenly, a sharp, sharp noise tore through the calm: a sharp knock at the door. The next moment, a heavy silence. Who could be knocking at such a late hour? With measured slowness, Kazuhiko stood up, his gaze marked by a dull worry, and walked to the door. He opened it, but found no one behind it. Just an envelope placed delicately on the threshold, as if by an invisible hand.
He picked it up gently, feeling the rough, yellowed paper beneath his fingers. The envelope looked old, almost fragile, as if it had survived the ages. Kazuhiko opened it carefully and unfolded a short message, scribbled in black ink.
"The Shadows are here, Kazuhiko. Run away!"
These words, short but terrible, sent an icy shiver down his spine. He no longer needed interpretation: these few words sealed a dire fate. The danger they announced was very real.
Without wasting a second, he grabbed a leather bag, slipped a few things into it, and then left the house briskly. Outside, the night was cool, almost biting. Above, a star-studded sky twinkled faintly, while a light wind rustled the leaves of the nearby trees. But despite the beauty of the scene, the atmosphere was heavy, oppressive, and filled with a grim omen.
Kazuhiko walked with purpose, heading deeper into the nearby forest. The rustling of leaves beneath his feet and the cracking of branches accompanied his progress, seeming to resonate with the beating rhythm of his heart. He knew this path well, yet tonight, each step felt heavier, as if the forest itself were holding its breath.
After several minutes, he finally reached an old, abandoned church, a familiar silhouette lost among the trees. The building bore the marks of time, its crumbling walls and broken stained-glass windows hinting at abandonment and loneliness. Yet, for Kazuhiko, this place was a sanctuary.
In the center of the church, he traced a precise circle, symbolizing an ancient ritual. Kneeling slowly, he removed an ancient talisman, worn by the centuries, from his satchel and clutched it in his hand. Closing his eyes, he breathed deeply, trying to calm the storm in his chest.
"Let this weight finally rest… Let the past be silent."
His lips murmured these words with solemn gravity, like a prayer addressed to invisible forces.
No sooner had Kazuhiko spoken these words than the atmosphere around him seemed to be charged with a strange, palpable energy. The silence of the forest was suddenly broken by a cold, icy breath that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. A furtive shadow slipped between the tree trunks, elusive, like a black whisper that moved with an almost supernatural speed.
Suddenly, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed, sharp and menacing. Black figures emerged from the darkness, silent but terrifying, shrouded in an aura of dread. The Shadows of the Gate, those dreaded entities few dared to speak of aloud, were there.
Kazuhiko felt his heart race, his fear mingling with fierce determination. He stood up, clutching the talisman in his hand, ready to defend this last refuge. Around the circle, the torches he had arranged cast a flickering light, dancing on the cracked walls of the church, creating shifting, almost hypnotic shadows.
He then began the ritual, softly reciting an ancient incantation, each word carrying a forgotten power. His breath grew short, the tension in the air palpable, each second seemed to stretch. The Shadows advanced, motionless but menacing, until their leader, a man wearing an obsidian mask, appeared in the center of the group.
His voice, cold and sharp as a blade, pierced the silence.
"Kazuhiko Jiyūhara, you cannot run away from your destiny."
Gritting his teeth, Kazuhiko felt a searing pain course through his body, but he continued unwavering. The talisman in his hand emitted a soft, almost soothing light, forming an invisible barrier around the circle. The Shadows struck again and again, but the barrier held.
But suddenly, an ominous crack ripped through the air. With a brutal gesture, the Shadow leader brandished his blade, shattering the sacred circle and piercing Kazuhiko. The talisman's light instantly went out, the flames died, and the ritual failed.
Kazuhiko collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath, his body filled with pain that seemed to tear him apart from the inside. The Shadow leader knelt beside him, his gaze piercing like a promise of doom.
"Your sacrifice is just one step," he whispered.
A cold voice rose among the Shadows.
"There is only one person left who can stop us."
The leader nodded, his gaze hardening.
"As long as she lives, our quest will not be over."
Weakening, Kazuhiko used his last strength to whisper.
"You will never find her…"
But his breath was quickly running out, his eyes slowly closing.
The leader then turned his back on Kazuhiko.
"The hunt continues."
There, in the room where Shinome slept, a chilly breeze from the forest swept through, extinguishing the faint flames of the candle on the nightstand. His sleep was suddenly disturbed, stirred by a distant whisper he couldn't understand. A heavy pressure seized his chest, a strange weight, like an invisible presence squeezing him.
Gradually, his eyelids opened with difficulty. His heart pounding, he sat up, overcome by an inexplicable sensation. A diffuse warmth rose along his arms, accompanied by blurred images, flashes of memories that were not his own. Fragments of a forgotten past, of a mystery he could not yet understand.
Without thinking, driven by an irresistible force, Shinome descended the stairs. His footsteps echoed in the silent house, each noise amplifying his growing anxiety.
In the hall, on the floor, he saw an envelope identical to the one his father had found. He picked it up, his fingers trembling slightly.
"The Shadows are here, Kazuhiko. Run away!"
The words echoed painfully in his head, causing a mixture of dread and resolve.
Without wasting a moment, he put on his coat and rushed towards the forest.
The cold wind whipped violently against Shinome's face as he plunged deeper into the dense darkness of the forest. Every creak, every breath, every shifting shadow seemed to amplify his anguish. The massive trees, with twisted branches and gnarled trunks, formed an almost impenetrable barrier, as if nature itself wanted to hold him back.
Despite the fear gripping his chest, Shinome moved forward, guided by an irrepressible intuition, a mysterious force pushing him toward this forbidden place. His coat flapped behind him as he leaped over roots and avoided thorny bushes.
After several minutes of breathless walking, he finally spotted the familiar shadow of the abandoned church around a bend in the path. Its crumbling walls and broken stained-glass windows seemed frozen in time, silent witnesses to a painful history. A heavy atmosphere reigned, charged with sadness and mystery.
Heart pounding, Shinome pushed open the heavy, worm-eaten wooden door, which opened with an ominous creak. The interior was plunged into semi-darkness, lit only by the faint light filtering through the cracks in the walls and the broken stained-glass windows.
In the center, on the cold, dusty floor, lay a motionless figure. The acrid smell of cold metal and dried blood filled the air, assaulting Shinome's nostrils. He approached slowly, each step echoing heavily in the silent space.
A silent scream seemed to choke in his throat as he recognized his father's face. Kazuhiko lay there, pale and motionless, his eyes forever closed. The contrast between the life still beating in Shinome's veins and his father's cold death tore at his heart.
Around the body, shards of dying light floated faintly, remnants of the interrupted ritual, like small, flickering flames that refused to be completely extinguished. Shinome knelt, gasping for breath, unable to hold back the tears that flowed freely down his cheeks.
His fist clenched with a strength he didn't know he possessed, his body shaking under the weight of a new, raw, heart-rending pain. Why had this cruel fate befallen them? Why did this man, whom he had always admired and loved, have to fall like this?
As his eyes searched Kazuhiko's still face, a strange feeling began to creep into him. An ancient, almost supernatural weight, like an ancient breath penetrating his mind. He felt fragments of memories within him that didn't belong to him: blurred images, distant voices, shards of a past life he had never known.
Shinome closed her eyes for a moment, trying to grasp these confused flashes. One name kept coming back, a word her father had often whispered in his prayers: Will. A mysterious force, a power that transcended time and death.
The young man raised his head, determination slowly replacing the pain. If he wanted to understand, if he wanted to protect what his father had defended until his dying breath, he would have to accept this burden. The fight had only just begun.
The night around him seemed to thicken, the heavy silence filled with a promise: that of a quest that would forever change the destiny of Shinome and the world he knew.