Black Flash was not a technique.
It was a mistake so precise it became divine.
For cursed energy to strike within one-millionth of a second of a physical blow meant that the sorcerer's body and will had aligned perfectly—no hesitation, no excess, no doubt. Most never experienced it. Those who did described it less as power and more as clarity.
Nanami Kento understood it as timing.
The moment his fist connected, cursed energy did not disperse the way it normally would. It folded inward instead, compressing violently around the point of impact. Space warped, air shrieked, and the world seemed to stutter.
Then came the sound.
A hollow, splitting crack—as if reality itself had fractured for an instant.
Black Flash.
The cursed spirit convulsed.
Not recoiling.Not resisting.
Breaking.
Its unstable form collapsed inward, the air-based technique it had been forcing together imploding instantly. Pressure vanished in on itself, snapping windows outward and tearing cracks through the pavement like spiderwebs.
Nanami was thrown back hard.
Pain flared through his arm, sharp and immediate, but he forced his footing, boots grinding against broken concrete as he stabilized. His breath came slow and controlled, though his muscles screamed.
"…Tch."
That should have been the end.
A cursed spirit at that stage—half-formed, unstable, already unraveling—should have dissipated.
But it didn't.
It moved.
Broken and shedding pieces of itself, the curse dragged its distorted body across the street. Each movement tore away fragments of cursed energy that dissolved before they hit the ground.
Still, it crawled.
Still, it advanced.
Toward the orphanage.
Nanami frowned.
That wasn't rage.
That wasn't instinct.
That was intent.
The pressure in my chest didn't spike.
It settled.
Like a truth I'd been circling since the moment I opened my eyes in this world, finally closing in.
The way its cursed energy reacted to mine.The way it hesitated when Ms. Aoyama appeared.The way it never once turned away from this place.
It wasn't attacking.
It was returning.
My hands began to shake.
Not from fear.
From recognition.
Ray's soul hadn't vanished.
It hadn't passed on cleanly or peacefully.
It had shattered.
The awakening had been too sudden. Too violent. Too heavy for a boy who didn't even know what cursed energy was. His body survived—but the soul that inhabited it couldn't withstand the weight.
And when I took his place…
What was left had nowhere else to go.
A curse born not of hatred—but of confusion. Fear. Loss.
A child trying to find the only place that had ever been home.
"I'm sorry," I whispered.
The curse crawled closer, its form barely holding together now. Each second stripped more of it away, cursed energy bleeding into the air like heat escaping a dying flame.
I took your body.
And you took this.
The unfairness of it pressed down on me, heavy and suffocating.
If I hadn't come here—If his soul hadn't broken—If this world wasn't what it was—
My thoughts spiraled uselessly.
Nanami stepped forward.
"This ends now," he said, voice steady.
"No."
The word escaped before I could stop it.
Nanami turned sharply.
"What?"
"It's not—" My voice faltered. I swallowed hard. "It's not trying to hurt anyone."
The curse dragged itself closer to the orphanage gate, movements slowing, form unraveling with every inch.
"It's just trying to go back," I said quietly.
Nanami studied me in silence.
"…You're connected to it," he said at last.
Not accusation.
Observation.
"Yes."
Nanami exhaled through his nose.
"That explains the fluctuations. The hesitation. The resonance."
He stepped past me.
"But intention doesn't erase outcome."
The curse made a weak, broken sound as Nanami struck again.
No flourish.No excess.
Just precision.
The blow shattered what little cohesion remained.
The cursed spirit collapsed, dissolving into fine black dust that scattered into the night air, carried away by the same currents it had once tried to control.
No scream.
No final resistance.
Just release.
I watched every fragment fade.
Every last trace.
My knees buckled.
I dropped to the ground, palms scraping against the pavement as my body shook violently. Breath came in short, uneven gasps I couldn't control.
You went through hell.
And now it's over.
The thought landed quietly.
And with it came something worse.
I was still here.
The orphanage door burst open.
"Ray!"
Ms. Aoyama ran toward me, all composure gone. She dropped to her knees, hands gripping my shoulders as her eyes searched my face frantically.
"Are you hurt?" she cried. "Are you safe? Please—say something—"
Before I could answer, she pulled me into her arms.
Her grip was desperate. Shaking. Like she was afraid I might vanish if she loosened it.
"I was so scared," she sobbed. "I thought I lost you too—"
My throat burned.
"I'm here," I whispered.
Her sobs grew louder.
"I'm here."
Nanami watched from a distance, silent and unreadable.
He saw the aftermath.
He didn't see the truth.
Ms. Aoyama pulled back slightly, cupping my face.
"Please," she said softly. "Don't scare me like that again."
I nodded.
But my eyes drifted back to the empty street.
To where the curse had been.
To where Ray had finally been allowed to rest.
Your hell is over.
My hands clenched into fists.
Mine—
The weight settled fully in my chest.
Mine has just begun.
...
Nanami remained where he was long after the street had gone quiet.
The cursed energy had fully dissipated now. No residue lingered in the air, no pressure pressed against the senses. To anyone else, it would have looked like an ordinary night again—damaged pavement, shattered glass, and a few shaken people slowly returning to their routines.
An ending.
Nanami knew better.
He stepped a short distance away, far enough that the boy and Ms. Aoyama wouldn't hear him, and raised his phone. The screen lit his face faintly as the call connected.
"This is Nanami," he said evenly. "The curse has been exorcised."
A pause.
"Yes. Semi–special grade confirmed. Unstable manifestation. Highly irregular behavior."
He glanced back.
The boy sat on the steps now, shoulders slumped, staring at nothing. Ms. Aoyama hovered close, her hand resting on his back as if grounding him in place.
Nanami continued.
"The curse showed signs of incomplete formation. It resisted exorcism longer than expected despite severe structural collapse."
Another pause.
"No civilian casualties," Nanami said. "Minor property damage."
He hesitated.
Just slightly.
"There was… an anomaly," he said slowly. "A fluctuation in cursed energy at the moment of manifestation. The readings suggest an external influence."
The voice on the other end pressed for clarification.
Nanami adjusted his glasses.
"For now," he said, choosing his words carefully, "I cannot confirm the source. Only that the cursed energy signature did not remain consistent."
Silence.
Nanami's thumb hovered over the edge of the phone.
He could say it.
That the boy had resonated with the curse.That the timing was too precise.That the emergence aligned too cleanly with his presence to be coincidence.
HQ would investigate immediately.
They always did.
"…I will submit a full written report," Nanami said instead. "After further observation."
Another pause.
"Yes. I'll remain on site for the time being."
The call ended.
Nanami lowered the phone slowly.
He stood there for a moment, eyes fixed on the dark screen.
Too early, he thought.
Not to act—but to condemn.
He slipped the phone back into his pocket and turned.
The boy noticed him immediately.
Their eyes met.
Nanami walked toward him, footsteps steady, deliberate.
Whatever this was—whatever connection existed between that child and the curse—
Avoiding it would only make things worse.
And Nanami Kento did not believe in postponing inevitable conversations.
"Boy" he said calmly.
The boy looked up.
"We need to talk."