The wind howled through the streets, rattling the shutters of nearby homes and sending the shadows of trees twisting unnaturally under the pale light of the moon. The clock inside the sushi house chimed once, twice, and then—like a deep breath held too long—it rang twelve.
The door opened, not with its usual gentle creak, but with a violent push as if something desperate were coming in, fighting the very air to be inside. A gust of frigid wind followed, and the chill it carried swept across the room, setting the hairs on the back of Hitoshi’s neck standing upright.
A boy stepped through the threshold.
He was young—no older than twelve, his clothes ragged and stained with dirt, his face streaked with tears. His eyes, wide and frantic, darted around the sushi house like a hunted animal searching for escape. His hands trembled at his sides, and his breath came in sharp, uneven gasps. He looked like he had been running for a long time, like the weight of the world had crushed down on him until he could no longer breathe.
But what struck Hitoshi wasn’t the boy’s appearance—it was the aura that surrounded him. A twisted, gnawing presence, dark and unnatural, seeped from the boy’s very skin. It was the unmistakable scent of a demon—a malevolent force clawing from within, struggling to break free. Hitoshi had encountered demons before, but there was something different about this one. It wasn’t just the boy who stood before him; it was something far older, far more dangerous.
The boy stumbled forward, his eyes wide with confusion and fear. He took a few steps, then stopped, blinking as if he were waking from a bad dream.
“Wh-where am I?” the boy whispered, his voice cracking, his chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. He looked up at Hitoshi, but the gaze wasn’t entirely his own. There was something... something else in his eyes. Something dark, something far older.
Hitoshi stared at the boy for a moment, his expression calm but unwavering. He could feel it—the demon lurking within, pressing at the edges of the boy’s consciousness. The small flickers of malice that danced behind the boy’s wide, innocent eyes.
“You’re not the one speaking,” Hitoshi said quietly, almost as though speaking to the air itself, rather than the boy.
The boy’s lips trembled. His hands began to shake violently, as though he were caught in an invisible storm. The dark presence within him recoiled, as if it had not expected to be addressed.
“You’re not the one,” Hitoshi repeated. “So why are you here? What do you want with this child?”
The boy’s eyes widened, and a slow, sinister grin spread across his face. His mouth stretched unnaturally wide, a dark and jagged grin that seemed to split his face in two. The voice that came from him was not the boy’s voice, but something deep and guttural, a voice that seemed to echo with centuries of malice.
“I seek... the boy’s soul,” the demon rasped, its voice wet, like the sound of bones cracking beneath the earth. It spoke with an ancient cadence, its words heavy with venom. “His soul is ripe, ripe for the taking. He’s weak. He won’t remember when I devour him—no one will. I’ve made him my vessel. I’ve hidden myself within him, hiding in plain sight. And now, I feed.”
Hitoshi’s eyes narrowed, his fingers moving ever so slightly as he prepared himself. He could feel the demon’s power surging beneath the boy’s skin, the writhing force that had taken hold of the boy’s body. But the demon was not invincible. Hitoshi had dealt with its kind before.
“You feed on pain. On fear,” Hitoshi murmured, his voice low but firm. “But there is something else you crave, isn’t there? The soul of a child, a pure soul, one that has not yet known the weight of life’s cruelties. You want to taste it... take it before it has a chance to bloom. But you’ve made a mistake.”
The demon within the boy’s body hissed, its sharp teeth glinting beneath the boy’s lips. The air grew heavy with the stench of decay, the temperature in the room dropping rapidly as the presence of the demon grew stronger.
“You think you can defeat me, little man?” The demon’s voice shook the air, its tone dripping with contempt. “I am eternal. I’ve lived through centuries. I’ve consumed lives in every shape and form. I’ve burned cities to the ground.”
Hitoshi raised his hand, his fingers trembling with the calm of one who had witnessed more than their fair share of supernatural battles. With a single motion, he placed his hand on the wooden counter and began chanting softly, in a language older than the walls of the sushi house, older than the very city they stood in.
The words came slowly, deliberate, each syllable a thread weaving through the air, tightening, drawing in the very essence of the room. The demon snarled, its body trembling as it realized what was happening.
“No... no! You can’t!” it hissed, but the fear in its voice was palpable, its words growing weaker as the chant intensified.
Hitoshi’s voice rose in pitch, the power of the prayer wrapping around the demon like a net, binding it, forcing it to confront its own existence. The room seemed to darken, the walls pulsating with the energy of the ritual. The boy’s body twisted violently, his limbs contorting unnaturally, but still, the demon held firm, unwilling to relinquish its hold.
“Amatsukami,” Hitoshi continued, his voice now deep, resonating with an almost otherworldly strength. “Kami no tami ni, yami wo motodashite, akuma no kōzō wo kaku...”
The boy screamed then, a horrible sound, as if his body were being torn from the inside out. His head jerked backward violently, his neck snapping with a sickening crack, and his eyes—those innocent, wide eyes—rolled into the back of his head.
The demon’s voice, once menacing, began to weaken, its form flickering, fading as the prayer’s power took hold.
“You think you can rid me?” the demon snarled, its voice now ragged, as though it were gasping for breath. “You—can’t—defeat—me—”
The air crackled with energy, and the walls of the sushi house seemed to pulse with the rhythm of Hitoshi’s chant. And then, with a sudden, violent force, the boy’s body arched high off the stool, as if an invisible force was pulling him upward.
Hitoshi’s prayer reached its climax. A brilliant light exploded from the boy’s chest, blinding in its intensity. The demon’s scream filled the room as the light tore into its very essence, pulling it out, ripping it from the boy’s body with excruciating force. The boy’s limbs flailed violently, his body jerking uncontrollably as the demon fought to stay within him.
But it was no use.
The demon’s body—the dark, shadowed, contorted form of something monstrous—was wrenched free. It was nothing but a writhing mass of black smoke and claws, screeching and howling as it fought against the power binding it. But in the end, the prayer was too strong.
The fish tank behind Hitoshi began to churn, the water swirling violently as though some unseen force were stirring it from within. The creatures within—fish, snakes, eels—twisted and turned, moving in an erratic dance. One by one, they shot forward, rising from the water like a school of hungry beasts.
The demon’s screams intensified as the creatures launched themselves from the tank, their bodies twisting through the air with terrifying speed. They closed in on the demon, their jaws snapping and their fins glistening like knives.
The demon, in its final moments, turned its malevolent eyes toward Hitoshi, its rage boiling over. “You—will—pay for this!” it screeched.
But before it could react, the creatures descended upon it. The fish, the eels, and the serpents, their movements eerily synchronized, surrounded the demon, their bodies writhing around it, tearing into its form with ferocious hunger. The demon’s body began to disintegrate, its cries fading into an inhuman screech as it was pulled into the tank, pulled into the depths of the water.
The last of its black smoke was consumed, leaving only ripples on the surface of the water.
The boy collapsed to the floor, lifeless, his body drained, empty.
Hitoshi moved toward the child, kneeling beside him, his hand gently brushing the boy’s hair away from his face. His eyes were soft, yet grave, filled with the silent understanding that this boy’s soul had been saved, but at a cost.
The room was still.
The fish tank settled into stillness once more, the creatures within returning to their usual quiet movements. Hitoshi stood slowly, the wind outside howled in fury, rattling the wooden panels of the building. The chimes of the clock struck midnight once more, resonating with an odd echo in the darkened room, as if the house itself were aware of the weight in the air.
And then, a tall figure entered, stepping into the sushi house with a purposeful grace, his form half shadowed as the moonlight cut across his face. His kimono was simple—black, worn—and his hair was long, falling in dark strands over his face, hiding his eyes from view. The faintest hint of a smile played on his lips, though there was nothing friendly about it.
The man’s presence seemed to draw in the very air, as though a storm was about to descend. His feet moved silently across the floor, his steps deliberate, measured. He didn’t appear to be in a hurry, as though he was used to having time on his side.
"Ah," the man said, his voice low and smooth, a slight rasp giving it an edge. “I was wondering when you’d be finished with your work.” He smiled, the gesture chilling. “I knew the boy would be trouble.”
Hitoshi did not smile back. “You’re late,” he said flatly, his gaze never wavering from the man’s face. “The demon has already been dealt with.”
The man’s smile widened even more, his eyes flickering briefly to the boy’s body, lying still on the floor. He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. “I see. You handled it well, as always.” His eyes returned to Hitoshi, and something dark seemed to flicker behind them. “But I wonder... how many times have you saved souls like this, Hitoshi? How many more will you save before it’s too late?”
Hitoshi’s gaze remained steady. “It’s never too late.” His voice was low, firm. “Not while I can still help them.”
So righteous, so noble. But in the end… what does it all mean?"
Hitoshi’s eyes narrowed, as he listened to each word the man spoke. He could feel the darkness curling around the man like an aura, something ancient. The room, once filled with the warmth of the sushi house, now felt infected.
The man tilted his head slightly, studying Hitoshi with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. “Such hope. It’s what makes you dangerous, you know.” He paused, stepping forward until he was close to the counter. He leaned over it, his breath cold against the air. “You’ve been saving them, one by one. But what about the ones you can’t save? The ones who are beyond help?” Hitoshi’s eyes darkened. “You speak as if you’ve come to test me.”
The man’s smile widened. “I’ve always been more... of a spectator. I’ve watched you, Hitoshi, watched as you’ve tried to save every lost soul that crosses your threshold. But you’re only delaying the inevitable. You can’t keep this up forever. There will come a time when you can no longer stand in the way of what is to come.”
Hitoshi remained silent, his fingers lightly brushing the edge of the counter as if weighing the man’s words, considering them. But there was no fear in his eyes. Only resolve.
The man’s smile faded into something darker, crueller. He straightened, running a hand through his hair, his expression now one of faint disappointment. “You’re so certain that you’re doing the right thing. But tell me, Hitoshi, do you really know what you’re fighting for?” He looked down at the boy once more. “Are you really saving them?”
The question lingered in the air, like a haunting echo, but Hitoshi did not respond immediately. Instead, he turned his gaze to the boy’s body, still and lifeless. His fingers twitched at his side, the muscles of his jaw tightening ever so slightly. The boy’s soul was not yet free—it lingered, waiting for release. Hitoshi could feel it in the weight of the room, the palpable pull of the world beyond.
“This house is a doorway, not a prison.” Hitoshi finally said, his voice as calm as it had always been.
The man laughed softly, almost affectionately. “You truly believe that? How quaint.”
“What is it you want?” Hitoshi asked, his voice steady despite the turmoil brewing within.
The man’s eyes glimmered with something darker, something almost predatory. “I want to see you fall. I want to watch your faith crumble to dust. Because, you see, Hitoshi… you are not the answer to this world. You think you can save these souls, but in the end… they’re mine. All of them.”
“What do you mean?” Hitoshi asked, though he feared the answer. “What is it you want with them?”
The man’s grin grew wider, his lips curling in an almost sadistic fashion. "It’s simple, really. I’m not here to destroy you, Hitoshi," he said softly, his voice taking on a strange tenderness that did nothing to calm the sense of dread that curled through Hitoshi’s chest. "I’m here to make you realize something. You cannot stop what is coming. You cannot save them all. The darkness you fight against... it’s far older than you. Older than your little sushi house."
Hitoshi stepped back, his hand brushed against the edge of the counter, the fish tank behind him humming quietly, its creatures swimming in lazy circles. The sushi house, this place that had stood as a sanctuary for so many lost souls, was under siege—not by the demons he fought off every night, but by something much older.
Before Hitoshi could respond, the man gave a soft, mirthless chuckle. "The more you fight, the more you bring yourself closer to the truth, Hitoshi. And the truth is... I am not your enemy. I’m simply the reflection of your own weakness."
The man took another slow step back, his gaze never leaving Hitoshi’s. The tension in the room was suffocating, yet despite the danger, despite the darkness that seemed to radiate off the man, Hitoshi found himself standing firm.
The man tilted his head, his lips curling into a knowing smirk. “But I suppose it doesn’t matter. You’ll learn in time.”
For a long moment, they simply stared at each other—two forces that were inevitably on a collision course. The silence between them was thick, heavy, as though the air itself were holding its breath.
And then, without another word, A surge of darkness exploded from the man’s body, a twisting, writhing form of shadow that seemed to have no shape, no substance. It flooded the room, filling every corner with an oppressive force, pressing in on Hitoshi. He felt it in his chest—an overwhelming sensation of something cold and ancient, something that sought to suffocate him, to tear him apart.
But Hitoshi did not flinch. Instead, he stepped forward, his hand moving in a slow, deliberate motion. His fingers brushed against a hidden scroll beneath the counter, the paper old and worn. A sacred prayer. A barrier.
The man’s laughter cut through the air like a knife. “You really think your little prayers can protect you from me?”
Hitoshi did not answer. He began to chant in a low, steady voice, the words flowing from him like a river. The room trembled, and the dark energy seemed to recoil, pushing back as if it were being held at bay.
The man’s eyes flashed with rage. “You fool,” he spat. “You think this will stop me? You’re just delaying your own death.”
The energy in the room surged violently, slamming into Hitoshi like a physical blow, but Hitoshi stood firm. The power of his prayer grew, and the shadows began to break apart, disintegrating into nothingness.
“This is my house,” Hitoshi said through gritted teeth. “And you will not take it from me.”
The man’s form began to flicker, his true nature barely contained beneath the surface. It was then that Hitoshi realized—this was not a man at all, but a creature of pure darkness. A being not of this world.
In one final, desperate motion, Hitoshi extended his hands, his fingers curling around the ancient scroll. He spoke the final words of the prayer, and the shadows shrieked, recoiling violently. The man slowly began to back away, his steps deliberate, his form retreating towards the open door of the sushi house.
“You’ll see me again Hitoshi,” he said softly, his voice carrying a note of finality. “You can’t outrun what’s coming."
With one last look over his shoulder, the tall man stepped out into the night, the door closing behind him with a soft click, leaving only the faintest trace of coldness lingering in the air.
Hitoshi stood in the stillness of the room, his body tense, his mind racing. The man’s words echoed in his mind, a challenge that he could not ignore. What did he mean?
With the weight of the demon’s presence was gone. Hitoshi stepped toward the boys body, his breath slow and steady.
And then, from the fish tank, the creatures began to stir. The water churned violently, as if something was awakening from the depths. With swift, coordinated movements, the fish surged forward, shooting through the air in an explosion of scales and light. They moved together like a singular force, swarming toward the boy’s body.
The boy’s soul, hovering just above his body, flickered once, then began to rise. A single fish darted through the air, opening its mouth wide, pulling the soul into its depths. It disappeared, swallowed whole, as the rest of the creatures dove back into the tank, the water settling once again.
Hitoshi stood silently, his gaze lingering on the tank, where the creatures now swam in a slow, steady rhythm. The boy’s soul was safe. The demon had been vanquished. But Hitoshi knew that this was only a brief moment of peace. There were always more. Always more.
And the door stood open, waiting for the next soul to arrive.
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