The sun shone brightly overhead, its light streaming through the crimson lanterns hung along the streets of Rinto Village, casting the cobblestones in warm red hues. The streets bustled with energy—women swept diligently, men chatted loudly, and children ran and played. The village was lively, and yet peaceful, a quiet harmony beneath all the motion
Sat beneath a large oak at the edge of the village, away from the hustle and bustle, was Shin. His back rested against the rough bark, and he was lost in his own world as a gentle breeze carried the soft sounds of distant laughter and ringing bells.
"Hey."
The sharp voice pulled him back to reality. Shin looked up to see three boys standing in front of him, blocking the sunlight. Their grins told him exactly why they were there.
His expression darkened. He crossed his arms.
"What do you want?" he asked, his voice edged with annoyance.
One of the boys snorted.
"Don't be like that."
"Yeah," another added mockingly.
"We just wanted to ask you something."
Shin glared at them.
"What's the question?"
The boys exchanged looks. One of them smirked.
"Well, today is the Megumi Shi Festival. Aren't you gonna give an offering at the shrine?"
Shin studied them for a few seconds before replying, a hint of amusement creeping into his voice.
"Why should I?"
"Well," one boy said, his voice trailing off before turning cruel,
"they say if you don't give an offering to the gods of mercy, you'll get cursed."
His grin widened.
"But I guess it doesn't matter for you… since you're already cursed."
The boys burst out laughing.
Shin looked down, his fists clenching.
"Take it back," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
"What?" one of them asked, still laughing.
Shin stood up.
"Take it back," he shouted.
"Or what?" the boy replied.
Shin didn't answer. He stepped forward and punched the boy in the face. The other two stopped laughing, gasping in shock.
The boy stumbled back, clutching his nose, then straightened with a sneer.
"I won't," he said.
"It's true. You're cursed. Everyone knows it. That's why your mother is gone."
Shin froze.
For a moment, the world seemed to go quiet—the laughter from the village, the bells, even the wind through the trees. His fists trembled at his sides as he stared at the boy, unable to speak.
Seeing this, the boy laughed.
"Can't handle the truth?"
He leaned forward, his voice cruel.
"I heard no one will marry your sister because of you."
Shin's jaw tightened.
"Don't you dare talk about my sister," he snarled.
He lunged forward, tackling the boy to the ground and pinning him there. Shin grabbed him by the front of his shirt, his hands shaking.
"No one talks about my sister."
The boy sneered.
"I'll say whatever I want."
He shoved Shin hard and swung, his fist catching Shin in the face. Shin stumbled back, the impact knocking the breath from his chest.
Shin staggered, then forced himself back to his feet. The boy did the same, wiping his mouth as he glared at him.
Just as they were about to rush at each other again, a loud voice rang out.
"Stop that!"
A man was striding toward them from the edge of the square.
It was Mr. Toru, the village blacksmith. He was a tall man with broad shoulders, his presence alone enough to make the air feel heavier.
"What's going on here?" he demanded, his sharp gaze sweeping over the boys before landing on Shin. His expression hardened, clearly displeased.
Shin opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say a word, one of the boys stepped forward.
"We were just trying to invite him to play with us," he said quickly. He suddenly put on a pitiful expression, grabbing his cheeks as if hurt, trying to look innocent.
"That's not— they started—" Shin tried to say.
"Be quiet," Mr. Toru snapped.
"You're always causing trouble."
Mr. Toru turned and ushered the three boys away, one hand resting firmly on a boy's shoulder.
"Stay away from cursed kids," he said coldly.
As he walked off, he glanced back at Shin. Shin caught the look on his face—disgust, plain and unhidden.
All at once, Shin became aware of the people around him. He could feel their eyes on his back, their stares heavy with the same disgust and resentment.
Shin lowered his head.
Whispers drifted through the air.
"Just look at him…"
"Cursed…"
"How sad."
"He should just leave."
Shin's hands curled into fists as the words pressed in from every side.
Shin walked back to the tree and sat down heavily beneath it.
He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms as the words echoed in his mind—the laughter, the whispers, the accusations.
His shoulders trembled as he lowered his head.
"I hate this village," he whispered to himself