The climb to Mount Yomi was endless.
Every step felt heavier than the last, as if the mountain itself wished to bury me. The fog grew denser, swallowing the world until only my heartbeat remained.
By dawn, the rain had stopped. In its place, ash drifted softly through the air — not from fire, but from time itself.
The path ended at a bridge of scarlet wood, broken in the center and held together by nothing but faith. Beneath it, a ravine of mist pulsed with a faint, unnatural glow.
And there, standing at the far end, was her.
The shrine maiden.
She was no longer shrouded in fog. Her hood was lowered, revealing pale skin like moonlight and eyes the color of faded silver. A thin scar traced her cheek — not ugly, but haunting, as if carved by memory rather than blade.
"You came," she said quietly.
"You left me little choice."
Her lips curved slightly. "Then perhaps you were meant to."
The wind stirred. The bell in my hand trembled faintly, chiming once — a hollow, distant note.
I held it up. "You dropped this."
She looked at it for a long moment, then nodded. "That bell binds the shrine to its keeper. If you heard it ring, it means the dead have chosen you."
"Chosen me?" I scoffed. "I am no priest. I'm barely human."
Her expression didn't change. "Exactly."
I stepped closer, my boots creaking against the worn wood of the bridge. "You said the dead wait for something. For me. Why?"
The wind carried her voice softly, almost drowned by the sighing of the trees."Because you are the last Kagemura," she said. "The last soul tied to the oath that sealed Yomi's gate."
Her words froze the air.
"I never made such an oath."
"No," she replied. "Your father did. When the Shogun's armies came, he offered his soul to the underworld to protect your clan. But when you killed your brother… that seal was broken."
I felt my chest tighten. "You speak as though you were there."
"I was," she said simply.
I searched her eyes, trying to read the truth beneath them. "Who are you?"
She hesitated — just long enough for doubt to breathe.
"Once," she whispered, "I was Aika."
The world tilted. The bridge seemed to sway beneath my feet.
Impossible.
Aika was dead. I had seen her fall — her hand reaching for mine through the smoke, her voice calling my name as the flames took her.
"No," I breathed. "You're lying."
"If that comforts you," she said softly. "But look closely, Ren. Even the dead change shape in Yomi."
The bell in my hand grew heavier, its sound fading into a deep, mournful hum. I wanted to deny her, to strike her down, but my blade trembled.
If she was lying, she did it too perfectly.If she spoke truth, then I had never escaped Yomi at all.
A gust of wind howled through the ravine, scattering ash and memories alike.
"Why show yourself to me now?" I asked.
"Because you stand at the edge of both worlds," she said. "You seek vengeance, but vengeance cannot reach what is already dead. To fulfill your oath, you must descend again — willingly — and face the truth buried beneath your rage."
"I've already faced death."
She stepped closer, her voice lowering. "No. You survived it. You never faced it."
Her gaze pierced through me like a blade. "Tell me, Ren… why do you think Yomi released you?"
I said nothing. I didn't know.
She turned toward the ravine, her robes fluttering like pale wings. "Because the living world is dying. The seal that separates life from death weakens. The dead rise, hungry for memory. Only the one who bears the Kagebane — the blade of shadow — can restore balance."
I looked down at my sword. Its surface rippled faintly, reflecting the ghosts that lingered beyond the mist.
"I didn't ask for this burden," I said.
"No one does," she murmured.
Then, without another word, she stepped onto the broken bridge — over the gap that should have swallowed her whole. But the mist held her weight like invisible hands. She turned and extended her palm toward me.
"Come, Ghost of Yomi. The gate must open once more."
I hesitated.
Behind her, the mountain peak rose like the spine of a sleeping god. Strange lights shimmered along its slope — blue, ethereal, pulsing like veins.
Every instinct screamed at me to turn back. But the bell in my hand tolled again, softly, as though answering her call.
I stepped forward. The wood groaned underfoot. The air grew colder with each breath.
When I reached her, she whispered something — words too ancient to understand — and pressed her fingers to my chest.
A surge of heat exploded through me. My vision blurred.
Suddenly, I was standing not on the bridge — but inside a temple of shadows.
Massive pillars rose around us, carved with countless names. Each glowed faintly, fading one by one like dying stars.
"What is this place?" I asked.
"The Shrine of Forgotten Names," she said. "Where every oath made in blood is written, and every lie whispered in death waits to be judged."
As she spoke, a voice echoed from the darkness — deep, hollow, older than any mortal tongue.
"Ren Kagemura… son of the fallen house. Do you seek redemption, or vengeance?"
I reached for my sword, but the Kagebane dissolved into smoke.
The maiden looked at me — her expression unreadable. "Choose wisely. One path returns you to the living. The other binds you here forever."
"I didn't come this far to turn back," I said. "Show me the truth."
The temple shuddered. The pillars cracked. From the floor rose figures cloaked in shadow — the warriors of the Kagemura Clan, their faces hollow, their eyes burning with blue fire.
"You abandoned us," they whispered. "You killed him… you killed us all…"
Their voices tore through my mind. I stumbled back, clutching my head. "No—!"
The maiden raised her bell. "Remember, Ren. The truth is pain. But pain is the only door that leads out of Yomi."
The spirits lunged. Their blades were like wind and sorrow, cutting through me with memories I could not bear — the fire, the screams, my brother's last words.
Then, I saw it.The memory I had buried.
My brother — kneeling before me, sword cast aside. His voice shaking."Father's seal will consume us both. Let it end here, Ren."My own voice — breaking, furious, terrified."You chose them over us."And my blade — falling faster than mercy.
The vision shattered.
When I opened my eyes, the temple was silent. The spirits were gone. Only the maiden stood before me, her face pale with grief.
"You remember now," she said softly.
I fell to my knees, gasping. "I killed him… I broke the seal…"
She knelt beside me. "And now, you must repair it — or the living world will fall into Yomi."
I looked at her — at the bell, the eyes that once belonged to Aika, the sorrow that clung to her like fog.
"How?"
She touched the bell. It glowed faintly, its sound no longer mournful, but steady — a heartbeat in the dark.
"By walking the path your father could not finish," she said. "By facing the gatekeeper who waits at the heart of Yomi — and offering what you fear to lose again."
"What I fear to lose?"
Her gaze met mine. "Your humanity."
The bell tolled once more, and the temple dissolved into mist.
When the light faded, I stood once more on the mountain — alone, the bell still warm in my palm.
Far below, the valley trembled. The shadows of the dead were stirring.
"The gate of Yomi was opening again."
— lands well, but consider a sensory echo: sound, vibration, or light, tying back to the bell.
"Far below, the valley shuddered, and the bell in my hand rang without sound. The gate of Yomi was opening again."