Blue Eyed Souls, Act 1
"You cannot be serious."
I plant a foot next to the [Kappa]'s dish, [Kagutsuchi Masamune] resting on my shoulder.
"I killed it," I say, for what's probably the tenth time. "I get dibs."
How many times we gotta go over this?
"We spotted it emerging from the manhole," Alyona snips. The Dragunov rifle in her hands gleams under the [Bleeding Zone]'s warped light.
"Renka had the quick thinking to force it into a bow, making it spill its dish-water and weaken it. The Census Club—
"Former."
"—has as much claim as you do."
"Right. And it was a great help, really! Made it all wobbly. But it wasn't the final blow. This," I pat my weapon, "was the final blow. My kill. My loot."
From the corner of my eye, I see that Oni creeping forward, thinking she's subtle. Before her gorilla hands can reach for the dish, Alyona and I glare at her in unison. She freezes, then shuffles back a step, pouting and twiddling her fingers.
Alyona turns her glare back to me, gesturing with a sweep of her hand that takes in our entire team.
"Is this truly how you manage resources in your organization? This... barbaric 'finders keepers' policy?"
Sukemori offers a small, polite bow, every single pair of hands in her [Idolon] clasped together. "As I have only joined today, I am unfamiliar with the Fujiwara Senki's operational protocols. I will, of course, defer to Boss' judgment."
"See?" I say, puffing out my chest. "You kill it, you get it. It's simple. Motivational."
"It's anti-teamwork!" Alyona fires back, her composure cracking. "It encourages everyone to scramble for the final strike instead of working cohesively towards a shared objective! It's the most base, greedy—"
"It gets everyone fired up to crush the most enemies! It's friendly competition! It breeds strength!"
"It breeds YOU hoarding all the spoils!" she shouts, jabbing a finger at me. "Compared to the supportive natures of Belladonna's or Madoka's [Idolons], yours is purely offensive! Of course you'll always get the killing blow! Your system is rigged in your favor!"
"..."
... shit, is she actually right? I figured that unlike in the real world, everyone could put up a fight.
But there is a big difference between movesets, isn't there?
"Tch. How does your little club do it, then? Enlighten me."
"We," she starts, already puffing herself up, "pool our resources and distribute them equitably at the conclusion of each expedition. I would assume the Student Council operates on a similar, civilized principle."
Equitably. Civilized.
Reasonable.
Dammit. I hate when she makes sense.
"Fine—"
"Ora~!"
[Simply Red] snatches the [Kappa] dish from the ground, cradling it like a treasure.
"Hey!" Alyona and I yell in unison.
The Oni completely ignores us. She brings the dish up, about to plop it on her own head like some moronic helmet.
"Ora?"
Then, she stops. Her crimson eyes lock onto Alyona. She takes a step forward, bending down until she's at eye-level with the flustered blonde.
"Wh-What are you?! Unhand me, you brute!" Alyona sputters as [Simply Red] reaches for her, trying to put the grimy thing above her...
Wait. Something is missing.
"Oi! Get back here!"
The Oni pouts but obeys, and I pluck the dish from her, the ceramic cool and slightly slimy in my hand.
My eyes stay on Alyona. "Your frilly little head-thing. Where is it?"
She blinks, thoroughly baffled by the non-sequitor. "... my headdress?" She touches the side of her head without noticing it. "I lost it during our battle. My [Idolon] stopped manifesting it since. Why?"
Our battle. The one in the snow. The one where... [Simply Red] ate it. A sliver of her [Idolon]'s power, absorbed into mine.
Shouldn't it have grown back by now? Stuff from the [Idea World] always returns eventually, right?
But it has been weeks.
A cold knot tightens in my stomach.
"Here."
She stares at my offering, then at me. "You still don't get it—"
"We'll do it your way," I cut her off. "From now on. We'll split it all up at the end. But you take this one. Now."
"Why?"
"Because you're running around with a piece of your soul missing, you idiot!" The words explode out of me, leaving her silent. She looks from my furious face to the humble, chipped dish.
"I can't have you being a liability if that hidden enemy is super strong or something, so..."
More silence. Words failing me, I shove the damn thing in her direction again, unable to meet her eyes as the weight leaves my hand.
... still, I have to make sure.
It can't be permanent.
There's a soft shimmer of light when I look again. The dish dissolves into motes of blue energy that flow into her. For a second, nothing happens. Then, in a flutter of white lace and satin ribbons, her headdress reappears, perched perfectly in her blond hair.
She doesn't thank me. She gives me a sharp, unreadable look, adjusts the headdress, and turns away.
Good. That's how it should be. And it's not because of guilt or pity or anything like that! It would just be... weird... if a piece of her soul was stuck with me forever.
I try to take a breath to calm down, but the air in this [Bleeding Zone] only settles uncomfortably on my chest. We continue down the cracked pavement when I spot it. A glistening, inky blob of a [Nightmare Foundling] oozing its way out of a storm drain.
My will resonates with my other self—
BANG!
The enemy pops like a rotten grape, splattering into black tar before it even knows we're here.
My head whips around. Alyona lowers her Dragunov, the barrel still smoking. She doesn't even look at me.
"Sukemori."
"Understood, Boss," she chirps, already collecting the dissipating gunk.
We turn a corner. Three more, huddled together like the pathetic lumps they are. My fingers tighten around [Kagutsuchi Masamune]. [Simply Red] tenses beside me, a low growl rumbling in her throat.
"[Simply—]"
BANG. BANG. BANG.
Three shots, three puddles of nightmare fuel.
I glare at the back of Alyona's head, my eye twitching. Even if she hadn't talked me into this stupid pooling system, she'd already be ahead. Am I really gonna let her have the moral and the physical victory?
No. She's fast, she's precise, but the next one is mine!
I take two steps ahead of the group and lead the way, my senses in tune with my oni. A sharp, alien scent hits her nose around the corner.
"ORA!"
BANG!
splat.
The Foundling is a stain on the wall.
I spin around and look at Alyona. "See?"
She blinks at me, her head tilted. "...Yes? I saw it."
My grin falters. My face feels hot. I was faster! My teleportation out-sped your bullet! I totally beat you this time!
A flicker of understanding dawns in those blue eyes, and a smile that's close to teasing plays at her lips.
"... I've found a lost soul."
Before the brat can open her mouth and say something that'll make me shove her, Renka speaks up.
I hurry over to where she's standing, and ugh. It's a drunken man, passed out cold under a pile of reeking trash bags.
I kick the sole of his worn-out shoe to jolt him. "Oi. I told everyone to clear out of this area. That includes you."
Alyona sighs. "Must you be so brutish? We should at least ask if he's seen anything unusual."
"Theres no way an un-awakened saw anything, especially this guy," I snap back. "Look at him. His brain's pickled in cheap sake."
"We know not the visage of our quarry," Renka chimes in. "It could be a [Bigger Idea], a [Yokai]... but it could very well be a human hand puppeteering us along the play. The same one that changed our stage from the teacher's lounge to that [Russian Winter]."
"Wha...?" the bum groans, blinking blearily at us. "Whaddya all talmbout?"
I lean down, getting in his face. "Did. You. See. Anything. Suspicious?"
A stupid grin spread across his face. "Heh… didja we forget where you're at after goin' to that fancy schmancy school, Momofuu-ki? 'S a forbidden zone. Everythin' looks suspicious."
"Fujiwara Ward isn't like the others! We keep things clean!"
That seems to actually register through the alcoholic haze. "Huh? Fujiwara?" he blinks again, looking around with a bit more focus before letting out a wheezing laugh. "Holy shit... musta had more'n I thought—!"
His laughter turns into a hacking, dry cough. I reach out a hand to the side, and sure enough, Sukemori places a cold water bottle into it.
"Here."
He gulps it down gratefully, wiping his mouth with a grimy sleeve. "Thanks, kid. Yeah, I saw lotsa stuff. Saw a demon, even! Big fella, big teeth, helped me find this nice bed here."
The bum pats the trash bags fondly. I grab his arm and haul him to his feet.
"Yeah, yeah." He's making up whatever to make us go away. "Well, this demon says to get out of here. It's dangerous."
He stumbles away, still chuckling to himself. "Heh... that's what the demon told me, too..."
As he disappears around a corner, I turn to Alyona and Renka, throwing my hands up. "Happy? That was a complete waste of time."
"On the contrary. A loosened grip on common sense can allow the un-awakened to better perceive the echoes of our world. His inebriated ramblings may hold more [Truth] than any sober account..."
With no desire to waste even more time arguing, we move.
My fingers fiddle with the pager in my pocket. A helpful demon? It's stupid. It's definitely stupid. But what if it's not? Should I warn Madoka—
Bzzt!
Before I can decide, the device buzzes in my hand.
All clear on our end, Momo!
Just a few little nightmare blobs~
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. At least they're fine over there.
Bzzt!
Oh!
Hosomatsu-san is complaining!
A manhole cover is missing near his place
whole street stinks :(
Thought you should know :P
probably kappa
we splattered 1 earlier as it left the sewers
"Hah..."
I'm tired.
Heavy, even.
Is all the hauling and lifting I did back at the hideout catching up to me? No, it's something in the air. The zone is thicker, more oppressive, pressing on my skin like a thick, hot blanket.
I glance at the others. Alyona's posture is annoyingly perfect as ever. Sukemori is serene. Renka is... well, Renka. Why am I the only one feeling this? Is it because their [Idolons] are full-body [Incarnations], while [Simply Red] is an external [Avatar]?
No, that's dumb. Her presence should be shielding me from any spiritual crap. This has to be physical.
I stop dead in my tracks. Then, I hop. Once. Twice. Trying to get limber. Failing.
"Have you finally lost it, or are you simply bored?"
"Hop," I tell her.
"Excuse me?"
Renka, without a word, begins hopping gracefully on the spot. Sukemori follows suit, her maid skirt swaying with a pleasing swish. Alyona looks at them, then back at me, her expression the peak of resignation.
"Fine!" she snaps, giving a single, stiff, hop.
"Feel anything?" I ask them.
Sukemori lands and nods. "A subtle force, pulling me downward."
"That's gravity." Alyona deadpans, looking like she has lowered her opinion of my maid.
"Gravity doesn't get stronger after you cross a street!" I tell the one-time-hopping nonbeliever, then raise my pager. "Look, Madoka messaged me. There's a missing manhole cover near the general store."
"Another [Kappa]. So what?"
"... our neighbors find their way here from pockets of human negativity," Renka murmurs.
"Exactly. One is an oddity, but how come there's multiple of them spawning from empty sewers, then bothering the people above ground? Our enemy has a portal, but they left it underground."
Gripping her detached head, Sukemori manually nods. "That's why you and Sola-san never found the source. This pressure must be coming from its epicenter."
Alyona's shoulders slump bit by bit under our discussion until she finally gives in with a nod.
"Alright. I shall contact Yaya. Her [Idolon] is suited for reconnaissance. We can have her confirm our suspicions and formulate a proper strategy for a later date."
Is she for real? "There's no need for that. We can solve it right now." So we should.
Her eyes widen in horror. Seriously, what is wrong with—
"W-We are not jumping down into a sewer on nothing but a suspicion and a... a hopping test!"
... well at the end of the day, she's still a princess, so I can't…
Nope, I'm judging her anyway. What a wuss!
"You won't actually get dirty," I say, my voice flat. "The moment you drop your [Idolon] form, any filth on you just... poofs. Like it was never really there."
"But I will remember it was there!" she hisses. "I would still have touched it and have my senses assaulted by it!"
"Fascinating insight, Momofuu-ki... if an unpleasant sensation is experienced within a transient reality, should you let it have any power over you? But then again, you took revenge on us for my simple [Dream], did you not? So can you truly claim that knowledge of a realm's evanescence dilutes its effect—"
That's it. I've had enough.
Intent given shape, the Oni lunges forward and grabs a pair of wrists, dragging the sputtering princess and wannabe philosopher down the street. Meanwhile, Sukemiro walks alongside me, ever the professional.
source is undrground
goin in the sewers
be ready to backup
My thumbs fly over the pager's buttons. I don't wait for a reply, shoving the device away as we round the corner. The portal's [Gravity] is lessening as we walk, which means we have already walked above it.
The stench hits me first, a thick, rancid wave of decay and stagnant water. There it is, the gaping, dark maw of the missing manhole.
"Chikata! Finally!"
Hosomatsu approaches us, pinching his nose with one hand and waving a fan frantically with the other.
"Have you found the cover?" he grumbles nasally.
"Nah. Anyone else come by besides you and Madoka?"
"No one in their right mind is getting near this rot! I've been watching!"
Right you are, old man. Right you are.
"Liar! I saw a demon go down there!"
A slurred voice pipes up. My head whips around. Another drunk, sitting on the sidewalk.
While Hosomatsu calls him all sorts of names, I rub my chin. Two in one day, yapping about the same thing? Maybe that bullshit about inebriation was right. I stride over to him, the others following.
"What'd it look like?"
The man blinks, surprised I gave him the time of the day. "Huuuge! Two meters, easy! Had these… these glowy green arms! And teeth! Big, sharp teeth!"
My eyes meet Renka. She sees the same as me. An [Idolon] that looks like an oni, or a genuine, high-level [Oni] with enough power to rip open portals. Either option is terrible news.
I return to Hosomatsu. "Call a few of the boys to get that drunk away from here and set a perimeter. No one goes in or out unless it's one of us. My orders."
He grumbles something about being an old man, not an errand boy, but nods and shuffles off all the same.
Good. Now for the unpleasant part.
I turn to Sukemori. "Alright. How do you wanna carry me?"
"P-Pardon, Boss?"
"I don't want my uniform dirty, and [Simply Red] needs to be on the front line. Can't have her arms full. But you're the support, and..." I gesture to her [Idolon]'s many, many arms.
"You got enough to spare over there."
Alyona lets out a sharp, incredulous laugh. "You cannot be serious. You're as vain as I am!"
"Oh, shut up!" I glare back at her. "You probably got some fancy washing machines, all I got is the neighborhood laundromat! Besides, I don't have a full-body transformation to shed the filth! I have to walk home in these!"
"Boss... will this suffice?"
While we're arguing, Sukemori's [Idolon] shifts. On the right side of her body, multiple pale arms dislocate and reconfigure with a series of soft, fleshy sounds, sprouting parallel to each other from her torso. They extend outwards and press against each other, perfectly positioned at my hip level.
I take a moment to get situated, lowering myself onto the platform of living arms. It's warm… and strangely firm. Shit, it's better than the couch at my apartment. Is this a testament to Sukemori's skill or another sign I'm broke?
"Boss?"
Sukemori turns her head. Pitch black eyes, calm and waiting, look at me expectantly. She's waiting for what, feedback?
"... you're a good seat."
I should punch myself. What kinda compliment is that?!
"... it is my pleasure to be of service."
To my horror, Sukemori does not punch me either. Instead, her cheeks flush with pleasure. She actually preens, a small, proud smile touching her lips.
Is she a weirdo? Am I the weirdo for making her do this? No, she's definitely the weirdo for accepting!
"Are you quite settled in, your highness?" Alyona mocks, pulling me from my newest crisis.
"Shut up. [Simply Red]! You're on point. Let's move."
She gives a sharp-toothed grin and drops into the manhole first. With a deep breath that I immediately regret thanks to the smell, I nod at Sukemori. My living chair steps smoothly into the opening, carrying me down into the darkness. Alyona and Renka follow, the latter looking far too amused.
The descent is short, and the change is instant. The faint light from above vanishes, replaced by a profound, damp dark. The foul scent becomes a physical presence, a thick, wet rot that clogs the back of my throat. The air is heavy and cold, and the only sounds are the drip of water and our own echoing footsteps.
"Yaya would have this entire labyrinth mapped in minutes."
I pointedly ignore the whining, focusing on keeping my balance. Sukemori moves with an uncanny grace, her padded feet making no sound as she navigates the damp, uneven ground. I shift [Kagutsuchi Masamune] on my lap, trying to find a comfortable position.
"Boss, please, allow me," Sukemori offers, gesturing with one of her free arms towards the bokken. She's already been holding [Tsuzumi Masamune] for me since we started.
"No," I grunt, my grip tightening. "I should at least be battle-ready if I'm hitching a ride."
As the tunnel plunges into near-total darkness, several of the arms on her left side shift, and multiple high-powered flashlights cut beams through the gloom. She even offers spares to the others.
Carnage greets us.
The walls are painted with the dissolving, tar-like remains of [Nightmare Foundlings].
Nothing conclusive. An [Awakened] wouldn't be friends with these things. A [Yokai] wouldn't either. The latter wouldn't get anything from their remains... but the former might not want to consume them anyway. Who'd want to dig around in this filth?
Step closer...
My head whips around. "Who said that?!" I snap.
Alyona and Renka look at me, confused. Sukemori's steps falter. None of them heard it?
"Step closer, little girl, and you will decorate the walls alongside these wretched creatures..."
It's not in any of our ears. It's in my head. A dark, rumbling, taunt that vibrates through my bones.
Kakito... show yourself, coward!
"I do not hide, you rabid beast. I await. Come, you and your vessel! Let us see if either of you can match me."
A wave of dizziness hits me. I lurch sideways, almost tumbling from my seat, but something holds me steady.
"Momo?"
"Boss?"
"Momofuu-ki?"
Questions come at me, but the voices are muffled, distant. All I can hear is the pounding in my skull, the two warring presences screaming in my mind, and—
Blood. Coppery, intoxicating, real blood. It overpowers the stench of the sewer, calling me and only me.
It tells me where my enemy is. It tells me what I have to do.
Kill him. Kill this pounding in my head. Kill [Kakito].
No! What is wrong with me? Who even is [Kakito]?!
A coward. An intruder in your territory.
... who are you?
[Shingen Aramasa]. Your most venerable ancestor.
That would be my Granny. I've never heard of you. Get out of my head.
I have been here far longer than her. Since this ward was built. Since you came here and embraced your fighting spirit. I am the blood flowing through your veins. I am the reason your other self is a red demon.
I am your [Violence].
... shut the hell up. My fighting spirit is my own, not from some demon hag telling me what to do!
[Aramasa]'s laugh is the sound of shattering bone. You have no choice. [Kakito]'s presence speaks to my grudge, which seeps into you. Avoid conflict, and our bloodlust will only swell. Kill, and you will have your peace by obeying me. Either way, victory is mine.
I'll kill you instead—!
"What is wrong with you?"
A hand grabs my chin, firm and cold. Alyona is right in front of me, her blue eyes wide with an alarm she'd never normally show. Sukemori has stopped walking, her many arms tense underneath me. Renka is watching me, her single eye narrowed in concern.
"S'nothing." I look away from their worried stares, my heart hammering a rhythm of denial against my ribs.
What the hell am I supposed to tell them? Yeah, an evil spirit is trying to possess me, but I have it handled.
You do not.
I'll have [Kukurihime] or Kanna-p look at me later.
"You were growling," Alyona insists. "Your eyes... they were completely vacant."
"It's nothing!" I swat her hand away, cringing at how it trembles. "Just… a headache from the smell. Let's keep moving."
They let it drop, but their worried glances are like needles in my back. I squirm on my fleshy seat, falling on breathing exercises.
In... Out...
In... Out...
In... It's no use.
With every step deeper into the tunnel, the blood grows stronger, thick in the back of my throat. Adrenaline pumps through my veins, a frantic drumbeat that makes my fingers twitch around my weapon. Every cell in my body is screaming for a fight.
Then I see it. A single [Nightmare Foundling], still writhing amongst the splattered remains of its kin. A perfect pressure valve.
My muscles coil, [Kagutsuchi Masamune] already beginning its swing.
Thwip.
A throwing knife, impossibly precise, embeds itself in the creature's core. It dissolves with a pathetic gurgle.
"That was my kill!"
Sukemori flinches, retracting her throwing arm. "I-I apologize profusely, I was only—"
"Forget it," I interrupt, shame instantly washing over me like ice water. "Sorry."
What is wrong with me? Snapping at her for being competent? For helping?
This isn't sustainable. This rage, this bloodlust... [Aramasa] is right about one thing. The longer I try to spite her by refusing to fight her battle, the longer this will boil over.
Until I'm a liability.
And what after this mission? Am I never going to fight again? Who will lead the Fujiwara Senki? Who will protect my ward?
No. I will do what I have always done. I will fight. And I will win.
Good. Embrace your burning blood!
Don't smile. After I deal with this [Kakito], you're next!
A~hahahaha!
I take a deep, shuddering breath, welcoming her anger, her bloodlust, her centuries-old grudge.
Bzzt!
I shove myself off Sukemori's arms, landing with a splash in the filthy, shin-deep water.
I don't care about the cold. I don't care about the pager buzzing in my pocket. I don't care about the filth soaking through my socks. I don't care about the shouts behind me.
I only care about killing him!
No. Torture him. Dismember him. Paint these tunnels with his entrails until your thirst is sated!
"[Simply Red]!"
We don't need the flashlights. We can see everything through the blackness, we can track our prey by the intoxicating scent of his spirit. He's close. He hears us coming. He knows his death is approaching, and he's ready to accept it!
There.
A boy, no, a man. His arms are monstrous, huge things of shimmering, spectral green, ending in claws. And floating above him, a ghostly, blue-skinned [Oni] with a cruel, taunting grin, its single un-chipped tusk gleaming.
"The beast and her pet have come to play."
[Kakito]. A specter, and his vessel upon the world.
My eyes lock with the boy's. No words are spoken. No explanations are needed. He's working with the enemy. He is the enemy.
He must die.
"ORA!"
My will resonates with my other self. Body and soul move as one, a whirlwind of black and red that slams into his center of mass with twin teleportation.
Our combined blow hits it with a sound like a gong, and he's sent skidding back through the muck, his boots carving trenches in the filth.
Again!
"ORA!"
The boy brings up his massive green arms, and a shimmering, translucent barrier springs to life between them. A thunderclap shakes the very foundations of the sewer, sending dust and debris raining.
I've never killed another human before.
It was always a line in the sand, a rule that separated me from these other thugs and yakuza.
But now?
Now, with my body thrumming like a live wire, and his blood muddying the sand, I could do it. No, I must do it. Every second of this battle screams that I must. If I don't kill him here and now, I will never quench this fire. My soul won't find any rest until his head is served on a platter!
He's strong! He's a fighter! But he can only match our offense with defense. He's forced to block without a counter, green arms conjuring barrier after barrier as the hurricane of our existence drives him back. The kanabou swings again and again, pushing him along the tunnels at our leisure, until—!
We corner him against a damp brick wall. He throws up a final, desperate bubble of green energy.
We do not hesitate.
"ORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAAAA!"
CRACK-CRACK-CRACK-BOOM!
The barrier shatters, and the force of our blows doesn't stop. It busts him right through the ancient brickwork.
We stumble through the collapsing wall into pure chaos. A cloud of [Nightmare Eaters], scuttling and floating like insects.
"ORA!"
I lunge at the vessel as he tries to flee amongst the other enemies, but a heavy weight slams onto my back. Then another. I snarl, thrashing, beating at them with my bokken, but they cling, their coldness seeping through my clothes.
[Simply Red] hesitates, torn between helping me and finishing our real enemy.
It's all the opening the boy needs. One of his massive green arms glows. He points it at me.
I brace for pain, for obliteration.
A beam of searing light erupts from his palm. It doesn't target me. It targets the creatures on my back, reducing them to nothingness.
But it washes over me too.
AARRRGHHHHHHHHHH!!!
I scream. Not from pain, but loss. A vital, raging part of me is being violently ripped away. The scent of blood vanishes. The heat in my veins extinguishes, leaving me cold and brittle, a snuffed candle in the darkness.
"Hah... hah... hah..."
I collapse to my knees, gasping, trembling with a sudden, profound weakness. Through the all-encompassing numbness, I can finally see it all.
Madoka frantically weaves barriers of pink light, her face a mask of concentration. Fumiko lays down covering fire, the roar of her cannons deafening. Dawn is a blur in time, supporting them, hindering our enemies.
Above them, there hangs a massive hole in the sewers.
A weeping wound in the world that has swallowed the ceiling and the afternoon light, driving my allies here.
A void of deepest black, spewing more of the inky horrors into the chamber with every passing second.
A [Shatter].
My legs are jelly. Every muscle screams in protest as I try to push myself up. The world swims, a nauseating mix of exhaustion from pushing myself to keep up with [Simply Red] and the hollowness left by [Aramasa]'s violent exorcism. I can only watch, useless, as the battle rages.
The boy I tried to murder is a beacon in the dark. His green barriers flare, drawing the swarms of Nightmare Eaters towards himself. They slam against his shields, giving Fumiko clean shots to blast them apart and Madoka the space to weave her banishing rituals.
He's helping them. He's saving my gang while I kneel in the filth.
He was never an enemy at all. Like me, he must have been misled by the evil spirit on his shoulder...
Except I wasn't misled at all, was I? [Aramasa] never told me he was controlled by [Kakito]. I assumed that all on my own. I used it as an excuse to kill, because I couldn't accept a future in which I can't fight.
A hand grabs my arm, yanking me to my feet. Alyona. Her face is a mask of fury, her blue eyes blazing.
"What is wrong with you?" she hisses, her voice low and sharp. "First, you snap at Sukemori for doing her job! Then you run off like a rabid animal, and now you just... kneel here? Put yourself together! [Simply Red] can't fight properly if you're like this."
The words should poke at my pride, make me angry, but they only land.
She's right. It's all true.
"Yeah," I mutter, my voice hollow. "You're right. I'm sorry."
Her tirade dies in her throat. The anger in her eyes becomes tenderness, even though I don't deserve it.
"Momo... what happened?"
Madoka approaches behind Alyona, eyes shining with concern behind her mask.
"What's really wrong?"
"I thought I could handle it... I'm sorry..."
"Handle what?" Alyona asks.
I try to look up at them, and the genuine worry they carry.
"There's a demon in my..."
But my gaze unwittingly travels past them. To the ceiling, to the portal, to the spectral form of the blue demon.
"Watch out—!"
It's too late. He touches the void, burning symbols in his hand.
[Blue Eyed Souls]
A [Shatter] is no mere portal. It is a sentient void, a cancer that breaks apart dimensions by its very nature. The one festering beneath Fujiwara Ward was not only sentient, but intelligent. It recognized the gathering of [Awakened] as a threat to its existence and had transported itself here, to the forgotten sewers, to hide and bide its time. It fed on the negative energies of the [Bleeding Zone], waiting for its gravitational pull to grow strong enough to transform its surroundings into a full-blown [Flooding Zone], and summon a truly catastrophic enemy.
[Warlord Kakito] was not that enemy. He was a passenger, dragged into this mess by the boy who had usurped his power, Tomaki Warumachi. The young exorcist had sensed the disturbance and, with his tell-tale cockiness, dove headfirst into the sewers to solve it, much to the [Oni]'s displeasure.
However, as [Kakito] observed the ensuing chaos, an opportunity presented itself.
[Aramasa]. A ferocious demon who had refused to bow to his legion long ago, now weakened and bound to a human vessel, much like himself. By taunting her, he had drawn her vessel, and thus drawn all her powerful allies to this precise location.
The pieces are now all in place.
The presence of two great demons, [Kakito] and [Aramasa].
The seething negative energy pouring from Momofuku Chikata.
The subtle death-marks on the [Awakened], particularly one Madoka Onguuchi.
Finally the location itself. Fujiwara Ward, the birthplace of a certain monk whose name derives from it.
In that moment, a perfect, terrible alliance is forged between the cunning [Oni] warlord and the intelligent void. The [Shatter] provides the power and the gateway. [Kakito] provides the knowledge and specific coordinates.
His [Yokai] magic flares, twisting the portal's chaotic energy, using the combined factors as a key to unlock a specific, dreaded frequency of the [Idea World].
The portal shrieks, its colors twisting into a sickly, phosphorescent green. From its depths, a new figure is pulled forth.
One who is [Undead]. One who begets [Death]. One who stands as the Fourth of [Nurarihyon]'s Hundred Demons.
Enter, [Fushihara].
He descends.
It's a man, or something that had once been a man. Its skin is stretched taut over its frame, the color of a weeks-old corpse. It wears the tattered remains of a monk's robe, and in its skeletal hand, it clutches a rusted shakujo staff.
Its eyes are voids deeper than the [Shatter] itself, filled with a cold finality.
Deep in my soul, I understand. This must be [Death].
For a single, silent second, everything is still.
Then, the world explodes.
Even with whatever [Kakito] did, the [Shatter] couldn't handle summoning something that... final. [Gravity] gives up, and I'm ripped off my feet, flying like a ragdoll. My hand, still clutching Alyona's, is the only thing tethering me to anything. She doesn't let go. Instead, she yanks me into her, her arms wrapping around me as she twists her body, shielding my human form with her [Idolon].
We hit something hard, tumbling together in a dizzying heap of limbs and grunts. Everything spins. Dark spots dance in my vision.
When my senses clear, the world is gone.
The portal's pulse blew a massive crater open to the sky above, and afternoon light streams down, illuminating the devastation. The swarms of Nightmare Eaters are... gone. Vaporized. My allies lay scattered around in several stages of unconsciousness.
I see Fumiko stirring. [Simply Red] is already on her feet, a low growl in her throat. I scramble up, my body aching everywhere, and haul a dazed Alyona to her feet. She hisses in pain, her face contorted, clutching her side.
At the center of the crater, standing calmly in the filthy water, is the dead monk.
His staff clinks softly as he slowly turns his head, taking in the scene. Around him, the spectral forms of [Kakito] and... [Aramasa].
The same sharp, black hair, bound in a ponytail. The same permanent scowl, though on her it's a cruel, mocking sneer. The only differences are the marks of the [Oni]. The massive, curved horns erupting from her brow. The sharp fangs of a carnivore, no, a devourer of men. And the color, a deep, bloody red that stains her skin, solid on her hands and fading up her forearms like a terrible infection.
She... she's wearing my face—
"Name your price, [Fushihara]."
Alyona and I freeze at [Kakito]'s words, a shared dread locking our gazes.
The one who brands the [Awakened]. The one responsible for the [Death Marks]. The one who's part of [Nurarihyon]'s Four Heavenly Kings.
He's... he's in our world...
"The boy is my prison. Kill him, and I shall honor any deal you put forth."
The old blue [Oni] doesn't care or notice us, pointing a finger at the boy.
How the mighty have fallen, [Aramasa] sneers, Begging a monk to be his assassin.
[Fushihara] does not acknowledge the squabbling demons.
Instead, his head swivels around the crater, stopping at Madoka.
Instantly, she starts writhing in pain. On her back, directly behind her heart, the [Death Mark] glows and pulses through her clothes.
He starts walking towards her, each step silent on the water's surface.
"Oi! Get away from her, you decrepit fuck!"
The shout is out of my mouth before I can think.
The ancient [Yokai] pauses.
He turns his head. There is no light in his eyes, yet I can still feel his presence bearing down on me.
And as [Death]'s gaze focuses on me, a pained cry escapes the one beside me. The mark on her own shoulder flares to life, and she collapses to her knees, gasping.
Shit!
I stumble away from her, putting distance between us. "Over here, you corpse!"
His gaze shifts fully to me, and Alyona sags in relief.
For a moment, I hold his gaze, unflinching.
That's right. I'm here. Come at me, you pawn of evil. Try to brand me if you want!
His head tilts toward the [Oni].
"No fear of her own death. That must be your vessel." His voice is the sound of dry earth shifting over bones.
Correct. [Death] cannot end [Violence], and [Violence] cannot end [Death]. We're both fuel for each other's fire.
"That should not be a point of pride."
His void-eyes turn to the other demon.
"It is not the boy's time. Take your deals elsewhere."
As [Kakito] seethes in silent fury, [Aramasa]'s ghostly form drifts right up to me. Her presence is fire against my skin.
You can see it past all that bravado, can't you?
This is not an enemy you can defeat. He will claim your friends, your family, your lovers, one by one. It may not be today. It may not be tomorrow. But [Fushihara] will come for them all.
You cannot stop it as you are. But I... I can change that. I will give you the power. Enough to shatter [Death] itself. All you have to do... is start fighting again. Embrace [Violence]. Embrace your [Oni].
I don't need you. I have never needed your cursed, borrowed power during my whole life, and I won't start now.
Something else is rising inside me. It's not the burning, selfish rage of [Aramasa]. And it's not the second wind of [Simply Red].
It's deeper. Colder. A resonance, vibrating from my very core, harmonizing with the marks around me. On Madoka. On Alyona. The same feeling I had when I visited Shujinko's creepy house, but a thousand times stronger.
It pours strength back into my exhausted limbs, washing the last of the demon's influence away.
I know not its origin. But I understand its purpose with absolute clarity.
To protect them. To shield them from the fate written on their skin. To give me the strength to stand before [Death] itself and say no.
"[Simply Red]!"
"[Brute Cannon]!"
From the other side, Alyona rises to one knee, her form shimmering. Her rifle, Fumiko's cannons, and my other self's kanabou, all of them roar in unison, delivering another onslaught to the sewers and the enemy caught up in the middle of it all.
[Fushihara]'s decrepit body is pulverized under our combined firepower, exploding into a cloud of bones and tattered robes.
It's...
You cannot kill [Death].
I don't even get to finish my thought.
Because his presence doesn't fade. His voice echoes without a mouth. His remains turn to ashes, and they swirl into a cloud, the particles pulling themselves back together like iron filings to a magnet. In moments, [Fushihara] stands there again, whole, his shakujo clinking softly as if nothing happened.
Alyona's guns flicker and vanish. Fumiko's cannons retract. Even [Simply Red] steps back.
"..."
We threw everything we had at him, and it meant less than nothing.
Empty eyes sweep over us. "You fight to stop the Marks. A futile endeavor. They are not a punishment from [Nurarihyon]. My duty, as a monk, is merely to govern the death rites of the other Hundred when no human will."
[Yokai] won't die. Not permanently. They fade and eventually come back, like everything else in the [Idea World]. But this guy... he's using his authority over life and [Death] to fast-track that process. He's a reset button. As long as he exists, the rest of [Nurarihyon]'s legion can be resurrected, over and over and over.
Still...! All the more reason to defy him! To fight!
Alyona, struggling to stand under the weight of her flaring mark, grits her teeth. "So... you are doing this of your own accord?"
Fushihara lets out a dry, rattling sound that might be a laugh.
"I am not doing this at all."
He raises a skeletal hand. The black butterfly flaps its wings.
"These are not my creation. They are a reflection of nature. After twenty-one centuries in your current calendar, [Humanity]'s population is expanding at an unsustainable rate. The system must balance itself. Even those in the prime of their youth must, at times, be culled to maintain the equilibrium of all life. Thus, [Death Marks] are nothing but the [Necessity of Death]. To stop them... to interfere with the mechanism determining the fate of the living... is to invite a far greater apocalypse. Imagine, if you will, a world where a father has to support not only his wife and child, but his own parents, his grandparents, his great-grandparents, and countless other generations before him, who cannot live as they used to, but cannot die either. Resources will vanish, and civilization collapses under the weight of its own endless existence."
The world itself wants them to die?
No... no. That can't be it.
Madoka. My best friend since we were kids. The angel on my shoulder, the one who drags me into her stupid schemes and can make even a tomboy like me feel like a normal girl. She has to die young?
Alyona. Who helped me clean my hideout and fought for my ward for no reward, who stopped my head from cracking on the concrete moments ago, who I can't help but approach again and again even when she's so annoying. She has to die young?
Shujinko. That infuriatingly earnest idiot who tries to talk to me when no teacher will, who smiles after I punch him in response. He has to die young? Koujin, Zennami, Nagamine, Takaishi, and who knows how many else, they're all... weights on a scale?
Their lives, their futures, all snuffed out because of what? Some grand cosmic equation? Fate?
That's not a reason... that's just cruel.
Life is cruel.
"... you're wrong."
The voice is weak, strained, but clear, and definitely not mine.
[Kukurihime]... no, Madoka. She pushes herself up to her knees. Her face is pale, beaded with sweat and scrunched with pain, but her eyes still blaze with conviction.
"The [Necessity of Death] is real," she says, her voice gaining strength. "But it would never act like this."
[Fushihara]'s being fixes on her. The air grows colder. "You dare call me a liar, old master...?"
He pauses. Leans down slightly, as if trying to peek behind that fox mask.
"No... you're not her. She hides behind a school girl?"
"She senses no falsehood in your words," she replies instead. "But you are mistaken about your own power. After all, you're only being possessed by the [Shinigami]. You're not the real article. You're a false prophet, an oracle who cannot decipher his visions."
He doesn't move. He doesn't even seem to blink. But she cries out, collapsing again as her mark flares brighter. A matching cry of pain comes from Alyona, who slumps heavily against me.
A crimson haze of pure, protective fury descends over my vision.
The kanabou swings in a devastating arc, and Fushihara's head explodes into dust and bone fragments for the second time.
Fumiko crouches beside Madoka before I can get there.
I tighten my arm around Alyona, trying to support her full weight, trying to physically put my body between her and where [Fushihara] is already reforming.
"This is the natural order," the [Yokai] reminds me, his head piecing itself back together with an infuriating calm. "It is not my intent. It simply... is."
He taps his shakujo on the ground.
The inky remnants of the vaporized Nightmare Eaters stir, coalescing into a solid, black staircase leading up and out of the crater.
He ascends.
The strain of transporting him a second time is too much. The [Shatter] gives one final, sickly sputter and implodes with the sound of a thousand dying breaths.
With the last enemy down, the [Bleeding Zone] follows.
The oppressive, otherworldly pressure vanishes. The body against mine grows lighter as Alyona's [Idolon] dissolves, dirtying her uniform in my filth. All around me, the others shift back to their normal selves.
[Simply Red] returns to her spectral form, leaving me hollow and trembling. The borrowed strength that let me fight [Death] evaporates, but I lock my knees.
I will not let her fall.
"Alyona!" I call out to no answer.
She's barely conscious, her head lolling against my shoulder. The mark on her neck is still glowing, a vicious, angry purple. And there's the smell... a sharp, acrid scent of burning.
"Momofuu-ki."
Renka appears at our side, having beelined for the blond as soon as her consciousness returned.
"The seal is burning up," she continues, face grim. "It's only harming her now."
Without a second thought, my fingers fumble with the buttons of the white shirt. Renka's hands are there too, helping. We peel back the fabric over her shoulder, and there it is. A paper talisman, charred black at the edges, smoking faintly.
I rip it away. Underneath, stark against her pale skin, is the butterfly-shaped death mark.
Alyona's pained grimace softens a little once the smoking seal is gone, but she's still terrifyingly weak. Her lips move, forming words I can't catch, her breath a faint whisper against my neck. Renka and I lock eyes over her, a silent agreement passing between us. We hoist her up, each taking a side, and half-carry, half-drag her over to where the others are gathered.
Madoka is propped against a crumbling bit of wall, Dawn and Fumiko flanking her. Her [Idolon] is gone, and she's back to being Madoka, pale and small. We carefully lay Alyona down beside her, the two blondes marked for death lying side-by-side. The sight makes my stomach clench.
"Boss?" Sukemori's voice is calm, but there's an undercurrent of urgency. "Warumachi-san is still unconscious. What are your orders?"
A low, deep rumbling shakes the ground. The cavern around us groans, the open sky above starting to flicker, the edges of the crater blurring as reality tries to stitch itself back into a closed sewer tunnel.
"No one left behind. The air in here will turn to poison once this closes up. It'll finish them off."
"The way we came in is too far back," Fumiko says, her voice tight. "Is your entrance closer?"
I shake my head. The staircases are too far.
But I have another plan. A stupid, reckless, probably suicidal plan. I remember the sensations from my clash with the Oni boy—Warumachi.
The way my body moved with [Simply Red], matching her impossible speed. That power isn't completely gone, even in the real world. It's still a fading ember deep in my soul.
The only question is if my body can take it.
It has to.
I drive the knuckles of my right hand hard into the acupoint below my navel.
"What are you...!" Renka startles, her single eye wide with alarm.
"I'm fine," I grunt, slamming my left palm against the spot right below my knee.
"Ghhk...!"
Pure, white-hot agony shoots through me. My skin flushes and sweats, heat radiating off me in waves. Yet, the results are there. My muscles swell with newfound power.
"But your life-force...! How many years have you shaved with this?"
"Hopefully enough," I tell her with a ragged gasp. I turn to Fumiko, who's staring at me with a mix of horror and understanding.
"Move."
She looks like she wants to argue, but one glance at my face and she thinks better of it, shuffling aside. I bend down, ignoring the screaming protest from my body. I haul Madoka's limp form over my shoulder in a fireman's carry. Then, I hook my other arm under Alyona's knees, lifting her up under my arm.
...This is nothing. With this fire raging inside me, I could lift the whole damn sewer if I had to!
"Sukemori..."
A coil of sturdy rope is placed in my free hand without a word or question.
I look up, ignoring the way my vision swims. The opening in the ceiling, the one the explosion tore open, is already shrinking, the edges of the real world sealing it shut like a healing wound. It's small.
No, it's big enough.
Don't think about the distance. Don't think about the weight. With enough speed, you can transcend it all!
In my mind's eye, I'm already up there, standing on solid ground, my friends safe beside me.
My soul believes it, too. All my body has to do is catch up!
"Ora!"
The world lurches. It's not a smooth transition like [Simply Red]'s, but a violent, gut-wrenching tear. My knees buckle as I land on the street above, the impact jarring up my spine. I stumble, my legs threatening to give out.
And yet, I have to keep standing. As gently as I can manage, I lay Alyona and Madoka down on the cool, clean asphalt. With no time to rest, I toss one end of the rope down into the dark hole.
"Climb!" I shout hoarsely, already bracing myself.
The rope burns into my hands, my arms screaming as I take the strain. Sukemori is the first up, scaling the line with an effortless grace.
The moment her feet are on solid ground, my body gives up.
I let go of the rope and fall flat on my back, chest heaving. Everything hurts. Everything burns.
"Hah... hah... hah..."
I can't move. I can only stare at Madoka and Alyona's shivering bodies.
"Fumiko-san, are you able to bring Warumachi-kun with you? Sola-san and I will do our best to drag you together."
Sukemori's voice rings out, calm and cool as she takes over for me, and I let myself close my eyes.
I did it. They're out. They're safe. It's over—
It will never be over.
The [Necessity of Death] comes for all mortals.
No... you're wrong... because Madoka said so! None of them have to die... as long as we kick that old monk's ass, we can...!
"Momo!"
"Boss!"
Raw and desperate, Fumiko and Dawn's voices force my eyes back open. I push myself up on trembling elbows.
But it's not me they fuss over. Fumiko's crouched over Madoka, her fingers pressed against her neck. Her face is pale with horror.
"Sh-She's not breathing...!
The demon's laughter rings in the silence of my mind.
It seems it may be sooner than even I expected...