The night air was still when Rika closed the book for the hundredth time. The sound of the last seal snapping into place echoed in her mind like a thunderclap. A hundred spirits. A hundred pages now filled with ink and whispers.
Her hands trembled slightly as she touched the cover. For a year she had chased, battled, and endured—Teke-Teke's scream, Kayako's crawling shadow, the endless hunger of Kubikajiri, the grotesque wail of Agubanba. One by one, they had fallen. And now…
The book stirred.
The black cover shimmered faintly, and when Rika opened it, she gasped. This time, it was not her handwriting she saw.
Across the parchment, written in strokes unlike her own, were stories. Stories not of her battles, but her grandmother's. She turned page after page, eyes widening at the strength of the spirits bound inside. Oni, vengeful generals, monstrous sea yokai—entities far beyond what she had faced.
And then her gaze froze.
Her eyes locked onto an oni etched in crimson ink. Its face was a mask of fury, tusks jutting from its mouth, eyes burning with hatred. Beneath the sketch was a short description, penned in her grandmother's elegant hand.
"This one is tied to the entity that eludes me still. A shadow between realms. The cause of tragedy, the taker of lives. It slips away before it can be caught."
Rika's breath caught. Her chest ached. She knew, deep in her bones, that this "entity" was connected to the night her parents vanished.
Her hand pressed against the page. "So you knew… Grandmother. You knew."
But the entity was not captured. Not because it was strong—but because it always escaped.
For the first time since the hundredth seal, Rika felt her confidence waver. She closed the book slowly, its weight heavier than ever before.
---
That evening, she sat in a quiet café, sipping at a lukewarm cup of coffee. She needed time to process, but fate offered none. Two girls at the next table were gossiping in hushed tones.
"Did you hear?" one whispered. "That house… the Saeki house. People say the ghost is still there."
Rika's heart stopped. She leaned slightly, listening.
"But that can't be right," the other replied nervously. "Kayako's ghost disappeared years ago, didn't it? Some say someone sealed it."
Rika's stomach tightened. She had sealed Kayako. The pages proved it.
"Not her," the first girl corrected. "Her son. They say the boy's ghost still lingers there. Toshio Saeki. Ever since Kayako vanished, people claim he still meows like a cat through the halls. They say if you hear it, you never leave alive."
The name struck her like a blade. Toshio.
So Kayako had not been alone in her curse. Her son's spirit had survived, festering in that house of hatred.
Rika clenched her hand around her cup, the porcelain creaking. She had thought the Saeki line was ended with Kayako's capture. But now another page called to be written.
She rose, leaving her coffee untouched.
---
Later that night, she stood before the familiar house. The Saeki residence loomed in silence, its windows like watching eyes. Once, Kayako's endless crawling had haunted these walls. Now, a different presence stirred within.
The air was thick. The kind of silence that wasn't empty, but waiting.
Rika adjusted the strap of the book across her back. She whispered to herself, "Kayako's son… Toshio. I'll free you too."
The door creaked open as if inviting her. The house smelled of dust, mold, and something metallic—like old blood.
She stepped inside.
Each step echoed too loudly, though the rooms swallowed sound. Her hand brushed the wall, and she felt the energy pulse beneath the plaster.
A faint meow drifted through the air.
Rika froze. It wasn't a cat. It was… too hollow, too sharp.
The meow came again, this time from upstairs.
She climbed carefully, her hand ready to summon her power. At the top of the staircase, she saw him.
A boy in a white shirt, pale skin like chalk, eyes wide and unblinking. Toshio. He stood in the middle of the hallway, his small frame trembling.
But the fear wasn't his. It was hers.
The boy tilted his head, mouth opening in silence before a long, guttural meow rattled from his throat. The sound clawed at Rika's ears, threatening to pierce her mind.
The book flared behind her. Pages fluttered as if anticipating the new capture.
Rika extended her hand, reality bending at her will. The air shimmered around Toshio, threads of sealing weaving toward him.
But then—
The boy vanished.
Her eyes widened. "No…"
The meow echoed again, this time behind her. She spun, only to find the hallway empty.
"Toshio!" she shouted into the silence. "I know your mother is gone. I sealed her. But I'll free you. You don't have to stay here anymore!"
The house answered with a chorus of meows. Not one, but many.
Her skin prickled. Shadows twisted along the floorboards, forming paw-like shapes. The air grew cold, and whispers brushed her ears.
This wasn't just Toshio. It was something more. His loneliness, his rage, his curse had multiplied, scattering through the house like fragments of one soul.
The book burned hot against her back. Pages screamed for her to act.
Rika closed her eyes, steadying her breath. She had faced worse. She had survived a hundred seals.
When she opened her eyes again, determination replaced fear.
"Then I'll gather every piece of you, Toshio. And I'll give you rest."
Her hand rose, the book's pages glowing. The hunt had begun again—this time not for a stranger's curse, but for a child bound in sorrow.