The Vessel Second Chance

Two years had passed since Megumi began elementary school, and in that time, the gap between his mind and his peers had only deepened. Yet, it wasn't just his social experiences that had evolved during these years—his growth in terms of his cursed energy and his control over his powers had been equally, if not more, significant.

Through the long stretches of quiet moments, both in class and in solitude, he had dedicated himself to refining his cursed technique. The knowledge that had been seeded in his mind—whether from a past life or a future version of himself—had become a steady, almost obsessive pursuit. Megumi knew that he couldn't afford to remain stagnant. The strange, unspoken weight of his abilities pressed on him daily, urging him to grow stronger, faster, and to understand the nature of his cursed energy more completely. 

He had come to understand one thing very clearly by now: his cursed energy wasn't unique in its composition. It didn't have the powerful, element-based properties that some sorcerers exhibited, like fire or ice or lightning. There was nothing particularly special about it—no distinguishing trait to make it more efficient or destructive than any other cursed energy. But what he did have was an innate capacity for control. And with that control, Megumi had been able to channel and manipulate his cursed energy in ways that no one his age—perhaps not even many adults—could.

He had already mastered the basics—channeling the cursed energy throughout his body, using it to enhance his physical abilities, to improve his reflexes, and to sense the cursed energy around him with a precision that made his awareness of the world's subtle movements almost unnerving. 

But that wasn't enough. 

One quiet evening, long after his parents had gone to bed, Megumi sat in his room, his back pressed against the wall, his legs crossed, and his eyes focused on the small patch of darkness before him. With a deep breath, he drew the cursed energy into his hands and pushed his focus to the tips of his fingers. A faint ripple of blue light appeared, and a small, sharp beam of cursed energy shot forward, slicing through the air like a spear. It was brief—only a few seconds before it dissipated into the room's stillness. 

His eyes narrowed in concentration as he lowered his hands. There was a sense of satisfaction, but also one of frustration. The beam of cursed energy was raw—pure energy released without refinement or purpose. It didn't have the precision to be effective in battle, and it certainly wouldn't leave a significant mark on anyone or anything. It felt blunt—a weapon that could knock something back but not truly harm it. 

His cursed energy wasn't destructive by nature, nor could he manipulate it in intricate ways, at least not yet. But it was something to work with—something to build upon. 

He closed his eyes and refocused, once again gathering the cursed energy, this time channeling it through his legs, feeling the pulse of it flow through his limbs, steady and unwavering. He imagined the beam—only this time, he imagined it sharper, faster, more concentrated. He could see the flickers of blue light around his fingertips, like the faintest whispers of flame before it ignites.

With another burst of effort, Megumi sent the beam forward again, but this time it was longer, more direct—more controlled. It wasn't a massive attack, but it held more power behind it than the first one. The impact of it wasn't much, but he could feel the energy was tighter, more condensed. The force was more concentrated. It was a subtle improvement, but one that made him nod in approval.

It's progress, he thought to himself, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow.

Still, despite his growth, there was something he couldn't shake—a gnawing sense that something deeper was required for his cursed energy to reach its full potential. He could control it, he could use it as a blunt weapon, but it lacked the finesse that his technique should have.

It wasn't enough to just blast raw energy—it had to be more than that.

He had been working on this for months, and while he was proud of how far he'd come, he was acutely aware that he was still a long way from mastering the Ten Shadows technique. He needed to learn how to make his cursed energy more efficient. If he is going to be able to protect himself, to protect others, he will need more than just power. He will need precision. He needs purpose.

The technique he had unlocked, the ability to summon shadows and manipulate them, was something that required not just control, but finesse—something that only his cursed energy could truly reflect. The divine dogs, which were now bonded to him, acted as both a guide and a crutch for his technique, but even they were limited in their own way. They were powerful, yes, but they were also untamed, wild, like spirits that lived at the edges of the world, only capable of certain actions and movements. What Megumi needed was to learn how to make his cursed energy work in tandem with those beings—not just as a separate force.

Megumi knew that in order to truly master his cursed technique, he had to learn how to integrate his cursed energy with the shadows and the beings he could summon. But the complexity of his abilities came with a significant risk—one that made him hesitate every time he considered pushing further in his training. He had a clear understanding of how dangerous his powers could be if handled recklessly. 

He wasn't just training to control raw energy; he was tampering with forces that could easily spiral out of control, forces that could be far more lethal than he could ever imagine. The balance between using his cursed energy to summon and control his shikigami was a delicate one. He knew that if he made a single misstep—if he accidentally summoned a shikigami that hadn't been properly subjugated—the consequences would be catastrophic.

It wasn't just a matter of causing a bit of chaos or losing control. He could die. 

He shuddered at the thought of summoning something like Nue or Max Elephant—shikigami so powerful that, even at his best, he wouldn't stand a chance against them. His cursed energy could be formidable, yes, but his physical body, still that of a child, would never be able to withstand such a force. 

While his cursed energy could be reinforced to enhance his strength—multiplied through the connection he shared with it—the concept was far more complex than simply pouring more energy into his body. The reinforcement worked by multiplying his physical power with the base value of his cursed energy, but there was a significant limitation. Megumi wasn't sure exactly how potent his cursed energy was, but his still-developing body made it impossible to use that energy effectively for combat reinforcement.

Sure, compared to other children his age, he was stronger—his cursed energy made him faster, more aware, and capable of feats that others couldn't dream of at his age. But that didn't mean he could stand against a fully realized, uncontrolled shikigami. His small, childlike body, despite the energy coursing through it, was still fragile. A hit from something like Max Elephant, a massive shikigami capable of crushing entire buildings, would obliterate him before he could even react. Nue, the winged owl like bird capable of unleashing devastating electrical blasts, would turn him into ash before he could blink.

Even with his divine dogs at his side—who were loyal and strong—they weren't a guaranteed safeguard. They had their limits too, and even they couldn't fight against the overwhelming power of a fully unleashed shikigami. Megumi knew that while the divine dogs would protect him to an extent, they weren't infallible. One wrong summon, one mistake in his focus, and the balance could tip in the wrong direction.

The hesitation was clear in his mind. The need to grow, to master his abilities, was tempered by a harsh reality: he was still a child. No matter how mature or controlled he seemed, his body wasn't ready to shoulder the weight of such power. And this thought, this unshakable knowledge, kept him from experimenting freely with his technique. 

The idea of experimenting with his cursed energy in tandem with his shikigami had great potential—he could be a force to reckon with if he mastered it—but the risk of what might happen if he lost control was too great. He couldn't afford to be reckless. Not now.

Megumi had seen the consequences of carelessness firsthand. He'd heard the stories—he'd felt the remnants of a past life that hinted at failure, mistakes that led to disastrous results. He wasn't about to repeat those mistakes.

Instead, he focused on what was safe. He continued to refine his basic cursed energy control, practicing blasts and beams of raw cursed energy. He worked on his defensive skills, reinforcing his body with cursed energy to make himself tougher, faster, and more agile—anything that didn't risk summoning something he couldn't control.

No. Megumi wasn't going to rush this. He wasn't going to let his curiosity or his ambition cloud his judgment. His goal was to be ready. He needed to be patient, to wait for his body to grow stronger, for his cursed energy to reach a point where he could handle the complexity of his techniques. 

For now, he would stick to what he knew—controlling his energy, reinforcing his body, and learning to use his abilities with caution.

_____

"Megumi-kun, good morning," a bright, girly voice chirped, pulling Megumi's attention from the quiet thoughts swirling in his mind.

He glanced up to see Yurikawa Hana, the same cheerful girl who had been a constant presence in his life since his first days at school. Her bright eyes shone with innocence, and her smile was as open and carefree as the sky above them. 

"Good morning, Hana," Megumi responded, his voice calm and neutral as ever. It was the same response he always gave, polite but detached. After all, there was no reason to give anything more. Hana didn't know what he knew, didn't understand the weight of the world he carried now. And for her sake—and his own—it had to stay that way.

She was in simple terms, another source of his problem. But not for the reasons she might think. 

Yurikawa Hana was no different from the other children in his class in terms of her youthful exuberance and simple joys. She was kind-hearted and fun to be around, always full of energy, the kind of person that made others feel at ease. But her presence spelled another problem.

When his past life—whatever that was—came rushing back to him, it brought with it more than just technical knowledge or an understanding of his cursed energy. He had learned of the cursed spirits: malevolent beings born from the negative emotions of humans. These spirits were fueled by hatred, fear, grief—anything that could be considered a source of despair. They thrived on the energy created by humans' suffering, twisting that energy into their own forms of power. They were beings of malice, roaming the world with only one purpose: to destroy. 

The more he had learned about cursed spirits, the more he realized the danger of his own existence. He, too, was a being full of cursed energy. But his was different. His power wasn't a result of fear, anger, or resentment. It was latent, untapped potential—cursed energy in its purest form, something the cursed spirits could sense even from a distance. To them, his energy was a beacon, a sign of strength. They didn't see him for what he truly was, just a child struggling to understand the very abilities he had been cursed with—they saw only the power he could wield. They saw a potential that was beyond most humans, a power that could easily wipe them from existence with the flick of a wrist.

They viewed him as an entity of great strength, something that could destroy them, erase them, with nothing more than a thought. 

It was a misunderstanding. 

Megumi didn't have that kind of strength yet. He was just a child, still far from mastering his cursed energy or his abilities. His latent potential was nothing more than that—a potential. His current combat power, the strength that mattered in the here and now, was minimal at best. But it didn't matter. The cursed spirits didn't care about the difference between what was potential and what was realized strength. All they saw was the cursed energy that radiated from him, and the sense of danger it represented to them.

The more he learned, the more he understood why they stayed away from him. And that was where Hana's unknowing presence became a problem. His cursed energy, despite being raw and unrefined, kept the cursed spirits at bay. They were wary of him—his energy, his presence—believing that even the smallest spark of his potential could annihilate them. The energy he emitted, even without control, created a natural barrier. 

But Hana was different. She was truly different than every other person Megumi had encountered—whether in this life, or even in the fragments of his other life that now seemed so distant and foreign. She was a mystery, something Megumi couldn't quite explain, but something that drew him in nonetheless.

Hana radiated a pure, untainted energy—a vitality that was almost tangible. It wasn't like his cursed energy, which pulsed with the remnants of negative emotions, resentment, and fear. No, Hana's energy was the opposite. It was life itself. She seemed to glow with it, her every movement filled with a natural rhythm, as though the very force that kept her alive extended beyond her body, emanating outward in a way that made everything around her feel lighter, more alive. It was an energy that came from her essence, from the deepest core of her being—her life force.

It wasn't something Megumi could explain with the technicality of cursed energy or even the wisdom his past memories had granted him. It wasn't cursed energy at all. And yet… that very life force of hers, so pure and unblemished, was like a beacon—a pull for the cursed spirits that he had grown to fear. 

The cursed spirits, those malevolent entities born of negative emotions, fed off sorrow, hate, and anguish. Their very existence thrived on the suffering of humans. But the power that Hana exuded wasn't suffering—it was life. And the cursed spirits, with their dark and twisted nature, were drawn to it like moths to a flame.

They weren't just drawn to cursed energy, as they were to Megumi, thinking of him as an entity that might threaten their existence. No, they were drawn to something far more dangerous: the life that Hana emanated, an energy they could consume. The moment a cursed spirit laid its hands on her, the result would be inevitable: her life would be drained, snuffed out in a manner more brutal and final than he cared to imagine.

Megumi couldn't explain how he knew this. Perhaps it was instinct—perhaps it was that strange intuition borne from his past life or some forgotten memory that lingered in the back of his mind. But what he knew was this: Hana's vitality was a kind of treasure to these spirits, and if they ever got close enough to take it, it would mean the end for her.

He thought of it in the simplest terms: She would die.

Hana's light, her unbridled joy and optimism, were what made her so special, so different. But it was that very purity that made her so vulnerable. She had no idea of the dangers lurking just beneath the surface of her life, the silent predators that could turn her life force into their meal if given the chance.

This was the weight that Megumi carried. The problem that he couldn't escape. He had tried so hard to isolate himself, to keep others at arm's length, all in the name of protection—protection from the cursed spirits that sought his energy, protection from the risks that came with his power, and protection from the inevitable harm that came from drawing others into his world. But Hana... Hana was different. 

She wasn't just another person. She wasn't someone he could simply push away or ignore. 

It was the duty of a sorcerer to protect others weaker than they were. He couldn't remember who had said that to him—maybe it was someone from his other life. The words felt like they had always been there, buried deep within him, part of the fabric of his being. They were part of the core of his responsibility now. As a sorcerer, it wasn't just about wielding cursed energy or controlling the power within him. It was about guiding others. Protecting the weak. Making sure that the things he could control didn't end up destroying the people he was meant to care for. 

And Hana, with her innocent, radiant life force, was someone who needed protecting. 

Megumi wasn't a cold person. Not at his core. Not really. It wasn't that he didn't care, it wasn't that he didn't want to connect with others. He just couldn't. Not in the way others could. He had seen enough in his past life, in the fragments of memories that still slipped through his mind, to know that true connection—true friendship—was a double-edged sword. It was a vulnerability that couldn't be afforded in the world of cursed spirits, where weakness could mean death.

He couldn't form the kind of relationship others his age might have—full of reckless abandon and blind trust. He couldn't be just a normal child. He had learned too much, seen too much, and his past self had instilled in him a cautious wisdom that made true, equal friendship seem like an illusion. 

To him, everyone younger than him—everyone who was still unaware of the dangers around them—was a student. It wasn't just an intellectual thing. It wasn't just about learning math or history. It was a responsibility. He had to guide them, protect them, because they didn't know what he knew. They couldn't see what he saw. And in this world, ignorance was dangerous. The world he now inhabited was full of things that lurked in the shadows, things that fed on the energy of the unsuspecting.

But Hana... Hana was different. 

She wasn't like the others. She wasn't someone he could just label as a "student" and distance himself from. Her light was too bright, too genuine. It pulled at something deep within him, something he had thought long buried—something that made him question his resolve.

He couldn't explain it, but there was something about Hana that made him feel protective in a way that was almost foreign to him. 

He couldn't shut her out. Not completely. He had to watch over her, guide her, because if he didn't—if he allowed his distance to remain too far—something would happen. He couldn't risk it. He couldn't risk losing her to something as cold and cruel as a cursed spirit. 

Megumi's duty as a sorcerer—to protect those weaker than him—had never felt more personal. It wasn't just an abstract duty, something he could carry out as a distant, detached observer. Hana was real. She was here. And if anything happened to her, he would never forgive himself.

He couldn't undo the past. He couldn't erase the knowledge and memories he had gained from his past life. He couldn't change the power he now carried or the danger it presented to those around him. But he could protect her. He would protect her. 

The others, the people around him—his classmates, his teachers, the parents—might never understand what it felt like to live with this burden. To see the darkness that lived beneath the surface of their world. But Hana, in her blissful ignorance, was a reminder that there was still something pure and good in the world. Something worth protecting. And as long as she remained near him, as long as she remained this beacon of light, Megumi would do everything in his power to keep her safe.

He would guide her, just as he would guide anyone else, but he would never abandon her. Even if that meant he had to step into a world darker than she could ever know. Even if it meant pushing his own limits. Even if it meant sacrificing the distance he had so carefully built around himself. 

Because he couldn't protect her from afar forever. Sooner or later, his world and hers would collide. And when that happened, he had to be ready.

For her sake, he would be ready.

The weight of his responsibility, heavy as it was, didn't feel as burdensome anymore. Megumi finally understood that being a sorcerer was not just about wielding power. It was about wielding it for others. And no matter how much he wanted to keep his distance from those who might be caught in his storm, he couldn't let Hana fall through the cracks. She was worth the risk. 

He convinced himself that as they walked toward school, the sun was still low in the sky, casting long shadows across the street. Megumi kept his pace slow, matching Hana's cheerful, bouncy steps. The cool morning air ruffled his hair, but he hardly noticed. His thoughts were elsewhere, lingering on the burden of his powers, the dark weight of the curse that he could never fully escape. Still, Hana's voice cut through his haze.

"Megumi-kun, have you done the math homework?"

He glanced at her, her eyes sparkling with that infectious energy of hers. She was holding her school bag tightly against her chest, the straps pulling her shoulders back, her expression full of expectation. Hana had a way of making everything seem so simple—like homework was just another part of the day, like everything was a little easier when you smiled enough. 

He didn't reply immediately, but after a moment, he gave a small, almost absent shrug. "I finished it last night," he said. His voice was quieter than hers, more deliberate, as he always was. "It wasn't too hard."

"Oh, I was up late doing mine," she said, laughing lightly. "I don't know how you do it so fast, Megumi-kun. You're always so serious about everything." 

Megumi didn't respond to that, just letting the words hang in the air. He wasn't the type to boast about his skills. She didn't mean anything by it, and it wasn't like he had anything to prove to her anyway. He was older in ways she couldn't understand, and that made their conversations feel a little like a child trying to reach someone who already saw the world differently. Hana, though, never seemed to mind. 

"So, what about you? You finished it already?" Megumi asked, more out of habit than genuine curiosity. 

"Not yet," Hana admitted, pulling a face. "I still need to do math problems, but I'll get to it when I get home. I don't mind if it takes a while," she said with a grin, "It's just part of the day, right?"

He couldn't help but glance at her sideways. Her energy really was different—like a constant, unshakable source of light. "You're not stressed about it?"

"Not really!" Hana said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "I think it's just fun to learn new things, even if it's hard. You know?" She tilted her head, eyes sparkling as she looked up at him. "It's like a puzzle! And I love puzzles!"

Megumi blinked at her, surprised. He'd never seen homework as fun. "Puzzles, huh?" he muttered under his breath, turning his gaze ahead, his hands slipping into his pockets. "I guess… I see what you mean."

"You should try it sometime, Megumi-kun! It's not always about getting it done fast," Hana said earnestly, slowing her pace a little so she could walk beside him. "It's more fun if you take your time. You'll see it in a new way."

Megumi glanced at her, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. She really had a way of looking at the world. It was an angle he didn't often take—the idea of slowing down, of enjoying the process rather than just focusing on the result. "I'll keep that in mind," he said, his voice steady but not dismissive.

As they walked, the chatter of the neighborhood around them was mostly drowned out by the constant hum of his thoughts. But Hana's light-hearted presence next to him made it bearable, almost calming in a way. It was strange, how her happiness felt like it could break through his own self-imposed barriers. It made him think of things he'd rather not—like how fragile it all was. How dangerous the world could be, especially for someone like Hana. The cursed spirits... they were always watching, always waiting. 

"You know," Megumi said after a moment of quiet, his voice low and contemplative, "You're... you're different from most people."

"How so?" Hana asked, turning her head to look up at him with genuine curiosity.

"Most people... they don't really think about life the way you do," Megumi replied carefully. "They see problems, and they get overwhelmed. You just... accept them. Like you said—puzzles."

Hana beamed at him. "Well, that's because I know everything will work out eventually, Megumi-kun. There's no point stressing about things we can't control, right? It's better to just do our best and leave the rest to fate!"

Her words were simple, yet they hit him in a way that he couldn't fully explain. Maybe it was the way she didn't see things as obstacles. Maybe it was because he had spent so much of his life already burdened with the idea of duty—but hearing Hana speak so freely, so positively, about things felt... almost out of reach for him. 

"You really believe that?" he asked, his brow furrowing slightly.

"Of course! Why else would we even try if we didn't think it would work out? If we didn't believe in ourselves?" Hana said, her voice full of certainty, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

Megumi thought about that, feeling the weight of his own thoughts pressing against his chest again. The cursed spirits, his power—everything about his existence felt at odds with the optimism she carried so naturally. She couldn't know the darkness lurking in the corners of their world. And if she ever did—if she ever learned the price of being near him, the cost of being a part of his world—he wasn't sure if she'd still be able to keep that same smile. 

Still, he couldn't help the small, barely-there shift in his chest. Maybe it was worth trying to see the world that way, even for just a little bit.

"Yeah... I guess you're right," Megumi said, sounding less sure than he probably should've, but the thought made him pause. For just a moment, he felt like maybe—just maybe—there was something to the way Hana looked at life.

"I know I am!" Hana said brightly, as they turned the corner toward the school gates. 

Megumi couldn't help but let his guard down, just a little. For her sake. And maybe, just maybe, for his too.

The day at school passed by in a blur of normalcy—at least, normal for someone like Megumi. The usual school routine unfolded around him: the clatter of desks, the murmur of the teacher's voice, the occasional interruption of giggling or shuffling papers. But despite the surface-level normalcy, Megumi couldn't quite shake the weight that followed him everywhere. It was always there, lurking in the background of his thoughts, the constant hum of cursed energy—his own, and the threat of others.

By the time lunch break arrived, he found himself surrounded by a small crowd of younger students. They often sought his help with homework or with their little problems, and though Megumi didn't mind, it always reminded him of his role. To them, he was someone older, someone wiser—a sort of "big brother" figure, someone who could help with things they couldn't solve themselves. They didn't understand the extent of what he carried within him, but they trusted him anyway.

"Megumi-kun, how do you do this math problem?" one girl asked, holding up a piece of paper. Her face was scrunched in concentration.

"I don't get how to make this word problem into a fraction," another boy chimed in, tapping his pencil nervously on his desk.

Megumi didn't mind helping them, not really. He was good at it, and it was the least he could do in exchange for being around people who needed him. His mind moved quickly, assessing the problems and offering simple, precise solutions. But he also couldn't stop thinking about the cursed spirits he had sensed earlier that day.

The moment the bell rang for lunch, his attention snapped back to the world around him. He'd been pushing the thoughts of those spirits to the back of his mind all morning, but as he sat down to eat his lunch under the shade of a tree, the nagging feeling returned.

He was the only one who noticed. As he sat there, nibbling at his rice ball, he felt a sudden shift in the air—a faint, sinister presence just beyond the school gates. A feeling he'd come to recognize all too well: cursed spirits. 

They were drawn to places where negative emotions lingered, and a school full of children—full of innocent, unaware energy—was practically a beacon. But Megumi had been practicing with his cursed energy enough now that he could feel the subtle distortions in the air when they appeared, their very presence sending ripples through the atmosphere. 

He glanced out the corner of his eye, past the school gates, where a small group of shadows flickered and shifted at the perimeter, just out of sight of the teachers and students. Cursed spirits, no doubt. It wasn't unusual—most of them were weak, mindless creatures drawn by the negativity and despair of others. They wouldn't be a problem unless they became bold. 

A few moments later, they made their move. With a sudden flurry of movement, the cursed spirits slithered toward the school grounds, like black smoke creeping in the corner of his vision. He watched, unblinking, his fingers unconsciously tightening around the edge of his lunch box as the spirits began to approach the school gates. 

And then, they stopped.

They didn't just pause; they recoiled, as if something invisible had slapped them back. They turned away in an instant, their forms dissipating into the air, retreating with an almost frantic sense of urgency.

Megumi didn't have to look far to know why. 

He had made his presence known, even if subtly. To the cursed spirits, his cursed energy was a marker of something they feared—his latent power, the force within him that they couldn't fully comprehend. It wasn't that Megumi was strong enough to wipe them out without effort—not yet—but it was enough to send them scattering for cover. 

He didn't want to be that noticeable, but at the same time, the fear the spirits felt from him was something he could use to his advantage. He could manipulate the cursed energy within him to create a field of repulsion, to keep things at bay. For now, it worked. The spirits, sensing the danger, turned tail and disappeared, leaving nothing but the faint smell of decay and the brief, lingering cold in the air.

He didn't bother to act surprised. It had happened before, after all. The cursed spirits were always skittish when they sensed his energy. It wasn't so much that he had fully mastered his cursed technique yet; it was just that his cursed energy had potential—a potential that even these low-level creatures could sense and fear.

A few moments later, he heard footsteps approaching.

"Megumi-kun, are you okay?" Hana's voice broke through his thoughts, and he turned to see her standing just a few feet away, concern written across her face. "You've been looking off ever since lunch started."

Megumi blinked, his face softening ever so slightly. Hana was one of the few people who could notice when something was wrong, even when he tried to hide it. His focus shifted from the school gates to her.

"I'm fine," he said quietly, offering her a small, reassuring smile. "Just... thinking."

Hana tilted her head, eyes narrowing as if trying to peer into his thoughts. "Are you sure? You looked like you were staring at something out there." 

Megumi didn't answer right away. He wasn't sure how to explain what had just happened without scaring her. He couldn't tell her that he'd just repelled a few cursed spirits from the school. Not because he didn't trust her—he did—but because there was no way to explain it without her getting drawn into his world. And Hana had enough to worry about without becoming tangled in that mess.

"I'm fine," he repeated, his voice a little more firm this time, as if reinforcing his own resolve. "There's nothing to worry about."

Hana seemed to accept that, though she still looked concerned. She didn't push further, her face brightening again as she smiled and sat down next to him. 

"Okay then. If you say so." She held out a rice ball to him. "Here, I saved this for you. You never eat much at lunch, and I thought you might be hungry."

He glanced at the rice ball, then back at her, feeling the weight of everything he couldn't say. But, for now, her kindness was enough. He took the rice ball from her, offering a small, grateful nod. 

"Thanks, Hana."

The rest of lunch passed in comfortable silence, the weight of his duties momentarily forgotten.

The rest of the day dragged on uneventfully, but Megumi couldn't shake the gnawing sense of impending danger that had taken root in his chest. His thoughts kept drifting back to the cursed spirits—how they had been acting with unusual boldness, appearing at the school not once, but multiple times. Their behavior felt disturbingly coordinated, as though someone—or something—was orchestrating their every move from behind the scenes.

Hana chatted happily beside him during lunch, the innocence of her words contrasting sharply with the weight of his thoughts. Megumi didn't mind the distraction—her carefree nature had a way of making the world seem a little less heavy, if only for a moment. He listened to her talk about her latest drawing, a picture she'd made of a dragon and a castle, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

"I think I might draw something for you next time, Megumi-kun," she said, grinning as she scooped up another rice ball. "You'd probably like it. Maybe a cool animal or something."

He smiled in response, though it felt a little tight. "I'd like that," he said, not knowing what exactly to expect but appreciating the gesture.

By the time the bell rang for the end of the school day, Megumi was already on edge again. He stayed behind after class for a few minutes, making sure that the school grounds were clear. Cursed spirits that wandered away from their birthplace didn't often linger for long. And as he walked home with Hana, he kept a sharp eye on the horizon, just in case.

Hana, for her part, seemed completely unaware of the tension that clung to him. She bounced along beside him, talking about something trivial she had overheard at lunch, her cheerfulness unchanged by the day's events. 

"You're really good at math, Megumi-kun!" she exclaimed, looking up at him with admiration. "I'm always impressed. You make it look so easy."

"It's not that hard," he muttered in response, though he could feel a small flicker of warmth from her praise. 

When they finally parted ways at the end of their street, Megumi walked the rest of the way home alone. He could feel his mind starting to settle, the tension of the day slowly bleeding away as the familiar sights of his neighborhood came into view.

When he finally made it home, the comforting smell of dinner wafted through the air. He stepped inside, removed his shoes, and was immediately greeted by the familiar warmth of his home. His mother, who was bustling around in the kitchen, glanced over her shoulder and smiled at him.

"Welcome home, Megumi," she called, her tone light and welcoming. "How was school today?"

"Same as usual," he answered, not wanting to worry her with anything that could be taken the wrong way. "I helped some kids with homework, and Hana was being... well, Hana."

His mother chuckled softly as she continued to stir a pot on the stove. "I'm glad to hear it. You've always been so helpful."

Megumi didn't respond immediately, his gaze flickering over to the kitchen window, where the fading light of the day cast long shadows over the yard. He hadn't told her about the cursed spirits he sensed outside the school, and he didn't intend to. The less she knew, the better. 

It wasn't that he didn't trust his mother—quite the opposite, in fact. She was kind, caring, and strong in her own right. But she had no idea about the cursed world he was living in. She didn't know that the cursed energy flowing through his veins made him a target, or that his every action was shadowed by the risk of summoning something dangerous without even trying. 

The last thing he wanted was to put her in harm's way. If she ever knew what he could do, she'd want to protect him. But in truth, he was the one who needed to protect her. 

When he made his way to the living room, his mother followed behind, wiping her hands on a towel as she set the table. She was always so composed, so aware of everything going on around her. In another life, maybe she could have been a sorcerer herself, but that was not the life she had been given. She had instead given him—her son—and that was something he couldn't take lightly.

"Your father will be home soon," his mom said, her voice light as she finished setting out the dishes. "Did you have anything specific on your mind today? You've seemed a bit... distant."

Megumi paused. He hadn't meant to seem distant—he wasn't trying to be cold—but the weight of everything on his mind often made it hard to focus on simple conversations. His thoughts were always on edge, always circling around the dangers he had to face alone.

"Just... thinking," he replied finally, offering her a small smile. "About the usual stuff."

His mother didn't seem convinced, but she let the matter drop, giving him a knowing look. "Well, dinner's ready. You should wash up."

Megumi nodded, standing up to wash his hands, his mind still drifting. His mother always had a way of seeing right through him. She couldn't know the truth about what he carried, but it was hard to lie to someone who'd known him his entire life. 

He washed up in silence, trying to push his worries aside for now. As he returned to the table, the comforting sounds of his mother preparing the final touches on dinner seemed to offer a rare moment of peace. Dinner was always a quiet affair in their house—simple but filled with warmth. 

When his father finally came home, the familiar clink of keys in the door made Megumi look up. His father entered the room, wiping his hands on his pants after a long day at work. He was a man of few words, practical, and efficient, but there was always a quiet, unwavering affection in his eyes when he looked at Megumi.

"Hey, kid," his dad greeted with a tired smile. "How's everything today?"

"Good," Megumi replied, sitting up straighter. "Everything's fine."

Dinner was served soon after, and Megumi joined his parents at the table. The conversation was casual—talk of the weather, a bit of news his father had heard at work, his mom talking about a neighbor's plans to move away—but Megumi didn't really hear it. His thoughts wandered, as they often did. He was grateful for the normalcy, but the weight of his abilities, the fear of what could happen if his parents found out, pulled at him like a constant pressure.

The meal passed slowly, the only sounds being the clink of chopsticks against rice bowls and occasional laughter when his father made a joke. Despite the lightheartedness of the evening, Megumi could feel his mind churning beneath the calm exterior. 

After dinner, his mother cleared the table, and Megumi excused himself to his room. He needed some time to think—time to process the new layers of his life that seemed to pile up each day. But just as he sat down at his desk to review his schoolwork, his mother knocked softly on the door before entering with a tray of fruit.

"I thought you might like a snack," she said, smiling as she placed it down on his desk. "You didn't eat much during dinner."

Megumi smiled faintly, though his heart clenched at how kind she was. "Thanks, Mom. I just wasn't very hungry, I guess."

His mother raised an eyebrow, still watching him closely. "You've been working hard, haven't you? Don't overdo it."

"I'm fine," Megumi replied, though even to his own ears, the words sounded less convincing than he intended.

She seemed to sense his unease, but she didn't press him. Instead, she patted him gently on the head before standing up. "Well, if you need anything, just let me know. Don't stay up too late, alright?"

Megumi nodded, watching her leave. As he sat there alone in his room, a deep sense of loneliness settled over him. His mother, his father—they couldn't know. He couldn't tell them. He couldn't burden them with this knowledge. But the quiet ache in his chest remained.

Once the door closed, Megumi turned his attention back to his desk, focusing on his homework. But no matter how hard he tried, his thoughts kept drifting back to the cursed spirits, to the looming danger, and to Hana—someone who, unbeknownst to her, was drawing the same kind of attention.

For tonight, at least, he would pretend things were normal. Just for a few more hours, he could ignore the weight of the world on his shoulders.

_____

The next morning, Megumi woke up, the remnants of his strange dreams still lingering in his mind. The vivid images from that other life, filled with people and places he couldn't quite place, still gnawed at the edges of his thoughts. But there was a sense of clarity now. Over the past few years, he had begun to understand the meaning behind the dreams, or at least, he felt he was starting to. The hazy memories seemed to be pushing him toward something important, though what that was, he couldn't quite figure out yet.

Sighing, Megumi shook off the remnants of sleep. He washed his face, the cool water a sharp contrast to the lingering heaviness in his chest. His mind, still trying to reconcile the vivid dreams with his current reality, felt like it was constantly shifting between two worlds. But for now, there was nothing he could do about it. He dressed in his school uniform with practiced ease, the familiar fabric offering some small sense of comfort. Once he was ready, he made his way to the dining room.

Inside, the morning was unfolding in its usual way. His mom was standing in front of his dad, carefully adjusting the knot of his tie as he stood still, a small smile playing on his lips. They exchanged a few words, the kind of casual conversation that seemed so ordinary, so mundane: remarks about the weather, the news, how their day would go. Megumi stood in the doorway for a moment, watching them. The normalcy of the scene, the warmth of their routine, was almost comforting in contrast to the strange dissonance that lingered in his mind.

"Good morning," he finally greeted them, his voice as calm and steady as ever, though beneath the surface, a subtle unease simmered—an unease that he skillfully masked, as always.

"Good morning, Megumi," his mother responded, her eyes briefly lifting to meet his before returning to the task at hand: adjusting the knot on his father's necktie. Her hands moved with practiced precision, every gesture fluid and familiar, like she'd done it a thousand times before.

His father, always the playful one, shot him a sideways grin and asked in a teasing tone, "Had a good sleep?" His words were light, the question casual, but there was an unmistakable twinkle in his eye, as if trying to coax out some reaction, to break the ice.

"No, I had a nightmare," Megumi said in a deadpan tone, his face completely devoid of emotion as he glanced at his father.

His father chuckled lightly, taking the statement as sarcasm. "Ah, come on, Megumi. Don't be so dramatic," he teased, ruffling his son's hair with an easy laugh, clearly oblivious to the seriousness lurking beneath the words.

But his mother wasn't so quick to dismiss it. She paused mid-motion, her hands stilling on the necktie as a flicker of concern crossed her face. Her eyes softened as she turned to him, her voice gentle yet filled with care. "Are you okay, Megumi? Really?" she asked, her tone laced with a tenderness that felt worlds apart from her usual no-nonsense demeanor.

Megumi remained silent for a moment, unsure how to respond to the concern. The unease inside him gnawed at him, but he simply shook his head, offering no further explanation. "It's nothing," he muttered, turning away slightly, his gaze settling on the TV.

He walked over to the dining table and took a seat at one of the chairs, the motion mechanical. Soon, his parents followed suit, his mother taking her usual spot while his father slid into the chair across from him, still humming lightly from his earlier teasing.

The quiet clink of plates and silverware filled the air as they began to eat. The hum of idle chatter soon followed—casual comments about the day, his mother asking if he needed anything for school, his father mentioning something about work. It was the kind of conversation that didn't require much thought, the kind they could all slip into without much effort, like a well-worn pair of shoes.

But Megumi barely heard the words. His mind was elsewhere, tangled in the feelings that something was watching him waiting for the right moment to pounce. Its unsettling grip refusing to loosen. He poked at his food without much appetite, focusing more on the faint noises around him than the actual meal in front of him.

His mother, noticing his lack of enthusiasm, cast him another concerned look but didn't say anything, perhaps sensing it was one of those mornings where words wouldn't help. His father, on the other hand, remained blissfully unaware, continuing to chatter on about some trivial work matter, as if nothing was amiss.

_____

"I'm going," Megumi said flatly, his voice barely breaking the silence as he stood by the door, his hand on the handle.

His mother, still in the midst of tidying up the kitchen, looked up briefly, offering her usual words of caution. "Be careful," she said, her voice warm but carrying an edge of concern, as if she couldn't quite shake the feeling that something was off today.

With a simple nod, Megumi stepped out the door, the cool morning air brushing against his face. The streets were still quiet, the usual buzz of the city not yet fully awake. He started walking, his footsteps steady but slow, the rhythm almost meditative as he made his way toward school. His mind wandered, lost in thought, until something from yesterday's conversation flickered to the forefront of his mind.

Hana.

She had mentioned, in passing, that she wouldn't be coming to school today due to some "circumstances." The words replayed in his head, and a strange sensation settled over him. He hadn't thought much of it at the time—Hana often had her own things going on—but now, with the quiet of the morning and the unease still lingering in his chest, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more to it.

He paused for a moment, staring down at the cracked pavement beneath his feet. He wondered if it was just his mind playing tricks, or if, somehow, her absence today meant more than just a simple excuse.

There was no reason to worry, he reminded himself. If something was really wrong, he could just check on her later. Hana had always been unpredictable in her own way—there was no need to overthink it.

To shake off the nagging thought, Megumi slipped his hands into his pockets as he walked, the quiet street offering little distraction. But after a few steps, he found his hands idly moving, his fingers instinctively forming shapes in the air. Without even thinking, he formed a simple shadow puppet—a dog—his hands twisting in practiced motions, fingers bending and curling as his thumb and index finger created a mouth that opened and closed.

"Divine dogs," he muttered under his breath, barely noticing the words leave his lips.

At his command, the shadows around him began to shift. They wavered and bubbled like something alive, stretching and contorting before gradually taking form. The first shape to emerge was a small, white dog, its features sharp and defined. A second appeared beside it, this one jet black, its body sleek and almost ethereal.

Both dogs stood motionless at first, their eyes glinting with an uncanny awareness. On their foreheads, right above their eyes, was a triangular mark, as if branded there by some divine force. The marks were nearly identical—except for one key difference. The white dog's mark pointed upward, while the black one's pointed downward.

"Kuro, please check on Hana and make sure she's safe for the rest of the day," Megumi instructed as he made his way to school. His voice was steady, but there was an underlying urgency in his tone. "And Shiro, I need you to scan the perimeter—see if you can find any signs of a powerful cursed spirit leading a group, or any unusual activity. We can't afford to take chances right now."

He didn't wait for a response as Kuro and Shiro were already moving swiftly to carry out his orders. Left alone on the quiet streets, Megumi pushed the troubling thoughts to the back of his mind, focusing instead on the task at hand. He quickened his pace, not wanting to be late for school. 

The familiar walk felt almost routine, a quiet rhythm that helped calm his mind and clear his thoughts, if only for a moment. With each step, the weight of his concerns seemed to ease just slightly. By the time he reached the school gates, the nagging unease had receded enough for him to focus on the day ahead.

As he approached the entrance, he spotted one of his teachers standing near the gate, greeting students as they arrived. "Good morning," Megumi said with a slight nod.

"Good morning, Megumi," she replied with a warm smile, not missing a beat. There was no mention of Hana, no surprise at Megumi being alone. That told him everything he needed to know. The school was fully aware of Hana's absence. And of course they were. Hana—or more likely, her parents—had probably notified the school in advance that she wouldn't be attending. It wasn't unusual for students to miss school for personal reasons.

But Megumi still had no idea why Hana hadn't come to school that day. He could feel the unease and curiosity creeping back in as he stood there. It was then that he decided to ask. "Sensei, do you know why Hana couldn't come to school today?" he asked, trying to keep his voice casual, though the curiosity was clear in his tone.

For a brief moment, the teacher's expression shifted—surprise flickering across her face—as if she hadn't expected the question. She quickly masked it, but it left Megumi feeling more uncertain than before.

"You didn't know?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "I thought Hana-chan had already told you."

Megumi felt a slight pang of confusion. Hana hadn't said anything to him. The last time they spoke, she hadn't mentioned anything truly important.

But before he could voice his thoughts, the teacher continued, her tone light and almost dismissive. "You see, Hana is currently moving. Her father got a promotion but also a relocation order. That's why they have to move to another city."

"Are you sure?" Megumi asked, trying to keep his voice steady. 

The teacher smiled, nodding. "Yes, quite sure. I was under the impression you already knew about it. She had to leave rather suddenly after all."

Megumi silently mulled it over, his mind processing the teacher's words. He tried to push the nagging feeling aside, accepting her explanation with a resigned sigh. A move, huh? It would be troublesome, no doubt—for both him and Hana. But mostly for her. With her leaving, he wouldn't be able to protect her anymore. He had always been there, watching out for her. But now, with her moving away, that responsibility was slipping through his fingers.

He took a deep breath, forcing the frustration to subside, and pushed the thoughts aside for the time being. There was no point in dwelling on what he couldn't control. If anything, he had to focus on what he could do. Hana's safety was important.

He looked up at his teacher and gave her a small, polite smile. "Thank you for the info, sensei."

The teacher smiled back, a soft, almost knowing expression, and waved her hand dismissively as if to say, It's no trouble at all. "Of course, Megumi. Anything to help."

As Megumi turned and walked toward the school building, the small smile he had forced onto his face quickly faded. His mind churned with one pressing question: How could he protect Hana without being near her?

The more he thought about it, the more he realized how helpless the situation made him feel. He couldn't just stand by while she moved away, knowing full well the dangers that still lurked around them. The cursed spirits weren't going to stop because she was far from the school. And if anything, her absence left her more vulnerable, not less.

Could he use one of his shikigami to tail her? The thought lingered for a moment, but he quickly dismissed it. While it might work in theory, the logistics weren't feasible. There were limits to how far his shikigami could travel before their connection weakened. Sure, he could extend his reach over a considerable distance—he was currently doing that with his shikigami—but the distance between cities was a different story entirely. Megumi wasn't experienced enough to maintain control over a shikigami that far away, not with any kind of consistency. It would be too risky.

No, that wouldn't work. He needed a more reliable solution, something that would allow him to stay connected to Hana, no matter where she was. But what? The thought of leaving her to fend for herself, especially with the cursed spirits growing bolder, was unbearable. He couldn't let that happen.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, but Megumi couldn't shake the feeling that something was coming. Despite the ordinary rhythm of the school day, his mind remained sharp, alert to any sign of trouble. He was aware of the subtle shift in the atmosphere around him—his classmates seemed to sense his urgency, the undercurrent of wariness and worry that hung over him like a cloud. No one approached him, and the usual distractions felt distant, as if they instinctively knew he wasn't in the mood for small talk or idle chatter.

As the last bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, a wave of excitement rushed through the room. Students gathered their things and headed out with laughter and chatter, eager to leave for the day. But Megumi barely noticed them, his attention fully consumed by the thought that had just struck him like a spark.

A talisman. 

A cursed object, often used to ward off other cursed spirits. It seemed so simple, so obvious, yet it was exactly what he needed. At least, that was the definition according to the strange memories of another life that Megumi had awakened to.

When he first regained the memories of that other life, one of the first things he had tried to do was create a cursed object. The concept had been foreign at first, but it quickly made sense. By infusing and channeling cursed energy into an object, slowly and carefully, without overwhelming it, the object would begin to emit cursed energy of its own. Over time, if done properly, the object would become imbued with enough cursed energy to serve as a form of protection or deterrence—an effective ward against cursed spirits.

Megumi had tried it with the first thing he could find: a bracelet his mother had given him. He hadn't known what he was doing at the time, but he poured his energy into it, letting it soak in slowly, just enough to avoid shattering the object in the process.

It worked. The bracelet, a simple piece of jewelry, had begun to hum with cursed energy. At first, it was faint, barely perceptible. But over time, as he practiced and refined his technique, it became a powerful talisman—an anchor for his cursed energy that could act as a protective shield. He had never fully tested its limits, but in theory, it would serve as a perfect way to protect someone.

The thought was almost too perfect. A talisman, infused with enough cursed energy to act as both a shield and a warning, could be exactly what she needed. And with her now moving away, it was the only way he could ensure her safety at a distance. She wouldn't need to understand how it worked—just wearing it would be enough to keep her safe from the worst of the cursed spirits.

With the plan beginning to form in his mind, Megumi left the school building, a newfound sense of purpose driving him forward. His steps were quicker, lighter—almost as if the weight he'd been carrying all day had suddenly lifted. The nagging feeling of helplessness, the fear of Hana being left unprotected, faded into the background as his focus shifted entirely to his task.

For the first time in what felt like ages, he had a concrete solution. A way to protect her, even from a distance. A talisman—a piece of cursed energy bound to an object. It was simple, but effective. And it was something he could do.

The walk home felt different today. The usual thoughts about cursed spirits and the strange pull of his other life were still there, but they no longer consumed him. His mind was clear, determined, his pace quickening with each step. He could see it now—the bracelet, imbued with cursed energy, shining with a subtle but unmistakable power. He could picture Hana wearing it, safe and shielded from whatever might come for her.

As Megumi neared his house, the excitement of his plan began to settle into a quiet, focused resolve. But just as he reached the front gate, a sharp realization stopped him in his tracks. He had been so consumed by the idea of the talisman, he had completely forgotten about his shikigami. Kuro and Shiro were still out there, doing their part to watch over Hana and scan the area for threats. He had intended to call them back once he got home, but now that he remembered, the sudden stillness around him gave him pause.

He stopped, scanning his surroundings with heightened awareness. The usual sounds of the street—the rustling of leaves, the faint hum of distant traffic, the chirping of birds and scurrying of small animals—were all absent. It was unsettling how quiet it was.

And then there was something else.

The air felt unusually heavy, as though something was off. No eerie whispers from the cursed spirits that typically lingered in the darker corners of the alleyways. No strange flickers in the air, no sense of unnatural energy pulsing in the distance. It was as though the whole world had fallen into an unnatural silence.

Megumi's instincts immediately went on high alert. He paused in the middle of the street, narrowing his eyes as he surveyed the area. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched—just beyond his perception, just out of sight. The absence of cursed spirits, the lack of any signs of activity... It was too quiet.

Why is it so still? he wondered, unease creeping back into his chest. His shikigami—Kuro and Shiro—should have sensed anything out of the ordinary by now. Yet there was nothing. No reports, no updates, no signs that anything was amiss. Either they were being too cautious, or worse, something had happened to them.

Megumi's heart skipped a beat as the shadows around him rippled, and both of his divine dogs—Kuro and Shiro—emerged from the dark folds of the world with their usual fluid grace. He breathed a quiet sigh of relief, but it was short-lived. The moment he laid eyes on them, he knew something was wrong.

Kuro's fur was matted with something darker than usual, and Shiro's normally pristine coat was ruffled, with a slight limp in her step. But it was their eyes—wide, alert, and filled with a rare, unspoken fear—that made his stomach tighten. They were distressed. And there was something else, something unmistakable: a faint, but distinct, scent of blood.

"This…" Megumi muttered under his breath, his gaze flicking over their bodies. His eyes locked onto the small wound on Kuro's flank, a jagged slash, still raw and dripping with dark energy. Shiro's side bore similar signs of a scuffle, though hers seemed less severe. "Did you both get into a fight?"

Kuro gave a low, pained growl, his usually sharp expression softened by the lingering exhaustion. Shiro, too, lowered her head, a clear indication that something had gone terribly wrong. They weren't just wounded; they were rattled. It was a rare thing for Megumi's divine dogs to show such vulnerability, and it struck him with a deep unease.

The two shikigami didn't waste any time. They moved toward him, urging him to follow. Their movements were quick, but there was a sense of urgency in the way they darted ahead, as if they knew something worse was waiting just beyond his reach. Kuro turned his head to glance back, giving Megumi a look that was both pleading and insistent.

Without hesitation, Megumi followed. His instincts screamed at him to trust them, to follow wherever they led. The oppressive silence that had blanketed the street earlier still hung in the air, but now it felt like something darker was closing in. His mind raced, his thoughts scattered between his shikigami's injuries and the danger that seemed to pulse just beneath the surface of the world.

Something had happened—something serious. And whatever it was, it was enough to rattle even Kuro and Shiro. They didn't just get into a fight; they were hunted.

As he moved, the feeling of being watched returned, sharper now, more intense. Megumi quickened his pace, following the dogs into the nearby alleyway, his senses heightened. He couldn't ignore the mounting sense of dread in his chest. He had no idea what awaited them, but he knew one thing for certain: the calm before the storm was over.

.

.

Megumi's breath quickened as he followed Kuro and Shiro, the sense of urgency mounting with each step. The dogs led him through the quiet streets, their pace unyielding, until they reached the outskirts of town. There, hidden among the dilapidated structures, stood an abandoned warehouse. He recognized it immediately—a place his father had mentioned once.

It used to be a factory, he recalled, before going bankrupt. Now, it was just another forgotten building, decaying at the edge of town. Why would the dogs lead me here? he thought, a growing unease settling in his chest. The quiet, abandoned structure felt off. It wasn't a place for anything good to be hiding.

But before he could question it further, a sudden, icy chill slithered down his spine—a primal, gut-deep instinct that something was wrong. His eyes immediately darted behind him and he silently cursed in his heart.

A cursed spirit.

It appeared in the shadows, a grotesque figure that seemed to ripple and distort the very air around it. Standing tall, its stout body was packed with unnerving muscle, yet its legs—bent and curved like those of a hawk—gave it a predatory, inhuman quality. But what truly caught Megumi's attention were the heads. Multiple humanoid faces dotted its shoulders and upper limbs, each one contorted into twisted, snarling expressions, as though they were trapped in a perpetual state of agony.

The cursed spirit's eyes glowed a sickly yellow, fixing on him with unnerving focus. He could feel it—the presence—like a heavy weight pressing down on him, a sense of being hunted.

Dammit, Megumi cursed silently. His gut feeling had been right all along. He hadn't been paranoid; he'd been followed—not just since the moment he left school, but for hours, maybe longer. This spirit had been trailing him, studying him from the shadows. And now it has made its move.

Kuro and Shiro immediately took up positions in front of him, growling low, their bodies tense as they prepared to defend. 

Megumi's eyes darted to the shadows, his mind racing as the situation spiraled from bad to worse. One cursed spirit was already a threat—its massive, grotesque form and unnatural speed were enough to overwhelm him and his shikigami if they weren't careful. But now, as the darkness seemed to pulse and writhe around him, more cursed spirits emerged from the shadows, their twisted forms crowding the area with unnatural speed.

The air grew thick with malevolent energy as the spirits revealed themselves—dozens of them, all different shapes and sizes, but all equally disturbing. Some were humanoid, others more monstrous, their grotesque features warping and shifting in the dim light. There was no mistaking it now.

Shit. Megumi's mind raced as he realized the full scope of the danger he was in. The cursed spirits weren't just random—this was coordinated. Someone had orchestrated this. And the worst part was, they weren't attacking each other. Cursed spirits rarely worked together; they were more likely to tear each other apart than form alliances. So how did this happen?

Before Megumi could process the situation fully, a voice—low, guttural, and full of mocking amusement—echoed from behind them.

"H-how do y-you t-think? I planned this."

Megumi froze, his heart sinking. He knew that voice. It was the cursed spirit leading the pack. The one he had noticed earlier, the one with the multiple heads, now speaking with a dark, cruel clarity.

No…

If a cursed spirit could speak, especially one so deformed and powerful, that meant it wasn't just some random curse or rogue creature. This thing was dangerous. In fact, it was likely the mastermind behind this entire ambush.

The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. This was no coincidence. The cursed spirit had intentionally led him here, baiting him into a trap. It had gathered its pack to attack, all under its command. No wonder it was so coordinated. It wasn't just a single cursed spirit hunting him down—it was a strategy.

As the cursed spirits closed in, Megumi's mind raced with grim clarity. The puzzle that had been lingering at the edges of his thoughts—the strange quiet he had sensed earlier, the unnerving absence of cursed spirits during the day—suddenly fell into place with a chilling finality.

The leader—this monstrous, grotesque cursed spirit—had been waiting. It had been watching him for who knows how long, patiently biding its time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. It hadn't attacked earlier when he called his shikigami back. Why? Because it wasn't ready. It needed him to be alone.

The plan had been simple, yet devious in its execution. While Megumi was busy with his school day, going through the motions, the leader had sent out its cronies to track down Kuro and Shiro. The dogs, loyal as they were, would've been easy targets without Megumi nearby. They were probably ambushed, cornered, and outnumbered. If Megumi hadn't recalled them when he did, they would've been killed.

The realization hit him like a fist to the gut. His shikigami were dead—or would have been, if he hadn't acted in time.

And that explained the eerie calmness earlier, the strange, oppressive silence. The cursed spirits had been lying in wait, hidden in the shadows, ready to pounce. They hadn't acted right away because they knew Megumi wasn't fully aware of their presence. They were waiting for the perfect opportunity to isolate him, to make sure his shikigami were out of the picture before attacking him.

That was the true reason behind the leader's silence back at school. It had been surprised when Kuro and Shiro suddenly reappeared at Megumi's side. It hadn't anticipated them being back so soon. In the leader's mind, the plan was flawless: eliminate the divine dogs, lure Megumi into the trap, and then finish him off, just as it had planned for his shikigami.

Then he heard a step. Megumi's heart skipped a beat as the new cursed spirit stepped into the clearing. It was massive, its body rippling with cursed energy, but what froze Megumi in his tracks wasn't its size or the menacing aura it radiated. It was what it was holding.

The cursed spirit clutched several limp, unconscious bodies in its grotesque hands—bodies of townspeople. But what hit Megumi hardest was the very last figure it held. His stomach dropped as his eyes locked onto the face of Hana.

She was pale, her body limp in the cursed spirit's grasp, the faintest trace of blood staining the side of her mouth. She wasn't dead, but the signs of unconsciousness—or worse, injury—were clear. Hana was a hostage.

So that's why. Megumi's mind raced. The reason Kuro and Shiro had come back wasn't because they were drawn here or herded like prey. They were drawn back by Hana's presence.

The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. The cursed spirit had captured her—and likely the other townspeople—and was using them as leverage to force his hands. 

He felt a rush of anger surge through him. For a moment, the weight of the situation nearly overwhelmed him—the lives of innocent people, Hana's life, all dangling in the balance. The cursed spirits were too numerous, too powerful, and here he was, surrounded with no clear way out.

He could flee. He could escape, easily, with his dogs and himself. He was fast, capable of navigating the shadows, and could disappear before the cursed spirits even had a chance to respond. But the moment he left, the lives of those held captive would be forfeit.

And Hana. Hana, the one who had been so kind, so steadfast in her own way. She was caught in the middle of this nightmare because of him. He couldn't just abandon her.

Megumi's fists clenched at his sides, his nails digging into his palms. His mind was screaming at him to take action—to not let this be her fate.

The leader of the cursed spirits, standing behind the large one holding the captives, smirked. Its many heads twisted, grinning as they watched Megumi's every reaction.

As the air crackled with an oppressive energy, tension were building to a breaking point. Megumi's mind was sharp, clearer than it had ever been, as the weight of the decision settled over him. He had no other choice. The cursed spirits were closing in, and Hana—along with everyone else—was in grave danger. The only way he could save them, the only way he could ensure their survival, was to make the ultimate sacrifice.

His chest tightened as he realized what he had to do. He couldn't escape this. Not now. There was no option left but to fight, and in doing so, he had to pay the price for it.

Megumi closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, grounding himself as he felt the pulse of his own heart, the beat of his life that was still his to control. But deep down, he knew it wasn't going to be the same after this. Not ever again.

I can't let them suffer.

A flash of blue flames engulfed him, his cursed energy flaring up in a radiant, supernatural blaze. The air around him seemed to warp, the world shimmering as if reality itself were buckling under the force of what he was about to do. The flames crackled with intense power, but it wasn't just his cursed energy—it was something more. It was something he had chosen to unlock.

The cursed spirits gasped in shock. They had been ready for a fight, but this? This was something else entirely. Their eyes widened as they watched Megumi bathed in blue flames and his divine dogs grow, their forms swelling to monstrous proportions. His shikigami, Kuro and Shiro, were now towering beside him, their fur bristling with raw energy as they stood like protectors, ready for the battle to come.

But it wasn't just physical power that had surged. The blue flames were a symbol of something far greater—something far more dangerous.

A binding vow. A pact, made in the darkest corner of his mind, with a price to pay.

"I—" Megumi began, his voice rough as his mind strained under the pressure of what he had just invoked. "I make a vow. In exchange for unlocking my memories, for understanding the full extent of my strength, I will forfeit the ability to use cursed energy… for three years."

The words felt like a weight as they left his mouth, a heavy, irrevocable truth. A price he had to pay for the knowledge, for the power. His connection to cursed energy would be severed, leaving him weak, vulnerable—a mere shadow of the person he once was. But it would allow him to access the deepest parts of his memories, the parts that held the answers he needed—the answers that could save them all.

The blue flames blazed hotter, swirling around him like a storm, as if the very fabric of reality was bending to his will. His vision blurred for a moment, then sharpened, his mind clearing as if the fog of confusion had been lifted. Everything rushed back to him—his previous life, the memories of who he had been, what he had known. It all came to him in a flood of knowledge, of understanding, of power he had never fully tapped into.

Megumi Fushiguro. That was who he had been. But it didn't matter now. Time was running out, and his cursed energy was already beginning to fade, his pact's cost sinking in. There was no time to dwell on what had been sacrificed—he had to act, and he had to act fast.

The blue flames around him flickered and crackled, their power weakening with every passing second, but he had one last window of opportunity. His divine dogs—Kuro and Shiro—towered above the battlefield, their massive forms casting long shadows across the warehouse. They moved without hesitation, responding to Megumi's silent command, acting with a ruthless precision that made even the most hardened cursed spirits hesitate.

The cursed spirits holding the hostages never had a chance.

Kuro, with his dark, imposing figure, was the first to strike. His claws tore through the air, raking across the head of the cursed spirit that had been clutching the hostages. The cursed spirit's body was split in an instant, blood spraying across the warehouse as it crumpled to the floor. It was a death so swift that the creature didn't even have time to scream.

Shiro wasn't far behind. With a ferocious growl, she pounced on the cursed spirit that had been holding Hana and the others. Her jaws snapped shut around its hand, and with one violent yank, she ripped the hostages free. She dragged the humans to safety, carefully placing them out of the reach of the remaining cursed spirits.

The cursed spirits had been caught off guard. They had expected resistance, but not this. The remaining cursed spirits tried to retaliate, but it was too late. Kuro and Shiro were already circling, their movements too fast for any of the curses to react. In mere seconds, all cursed spirits surrounding them were dead—dissolving into nothingness as their cursed energy was snuffed out.

Megumi's eyes locked onto Hana's limp body among the hostages. Her pale face, the blood staining her clothes—it was a sight that twisted something deep inside him. He couldn't afford to waste any time, though. His mind raced, the memory of who he had been already growing distant. His pact had been made, and there was no going back. But for now, his focus was clear. Protect them. Save them.

"Hana…" he whispered under his breath, but there was no time to check on her just yet.

The leader of the cursed spirits, the one that had been lurking in the shadows, revealed itself. Its grotesque form emerged, its many heads snarling in fury. 

The cursed spirit's many heads turned toward him, its eyes burning with malice. "Y-you think you c-can stop me?" it hissed. "You're too w-weak. You've given up your cursed energy. You're n-nothing without it!"

But Megumi wasn't listening. His mind was sharp, his instincts honed to a razor's edge as he took in the situation. The cursed energy—the strength he had relied on for so long—was fading. But that didn't matter now. The true strength didn't lie in cursed energy alone. It lay in his will.

Kuro and Shiro had already moved, flanking the leader, keeping it off-balance. The cursed spirits had no way of knowing just how well Megumi had learned to fight without his full capacity of cursed energy. The pattern of battle was clear to him now. With his divine dogs leading the charge, Megumi would strike.

Without hesitation, he darted forward. The leader swung one of its massive claws, but Megumi was already gone, moving faster than the cursed spirit could track. Kuro and Shiro distracted it long enough, and in a split second, Megumi was at the leader's side, his hand pressing against its twisted, cursed form.

The cursed spirit's heads twisted in confusion, but before it could react, Megumi unleashed his strike. His movements were fluid, sharp, and precise. He didn't need cursed energy to make this hit count. In that moment, he understood his memories—the key to his past had unlocked the full extent of his instincts, allowing him to fight with a level of clarity he had never experienced before.

The leader's body convulsed as Megumi's strike landed. It screeched, its many mouths crying out in agony, but it was too late. In one final burst of force, the cursed spirit's body exploded into cursed energy, disintegrating before Megumi's eyes.

The remaining cursed spirits—the ones still hiding in the shadows—saw their leader fall. Fear spread among them, and without hesitation, they began to scatter, retreating into the darkness.

But Megumi wasn't done. His dogs were still on the hunt, finishing off the last of the cursed spirits with brutal efficiency. In moments, the warehouse was silent again, save for the quiet breaths of the hostages Megumi had just saved.

He turned back to Hana, his heart thumping in his chest. She was still unconscious, but alive. He rushed to her side, checking her pulse—thankfully, it was steady. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

He then methodically checked each and every one of them, his hands trembling slightly as he moved from person to person, breathing a quiet sigh of relief when he found that none of them had sustained any significant injuries. For a brief moment, a sense of calm washed over him. But that calm was fleeting. A sudden, overwhelming wave of weakness crashed over him as his cursed energy—his lifeline—was finally stripped off him. It was as though a heavy weight had descended upon him, pulling him deeper into exhaustion. His limbs felt like lead, and his vision began to blur at the edges.

He could feel his consciousness slipping away, like sand through his fingers. He tried to focus, but it was no use. The fatigue was insurmountable. It didn't matter. There was nothing left to do now but wait.

With a final, resigned breath, he laid down beside Hana, positioning himself in a way that was both protective and comforting. The cool ground beneath him felt oddly soothing, and despite the terror that had preceded this moment, a quiet sense of peace settled over him. The chances of anyone finding them seemed high—after all, with so many people missing, it was only a matter of time before the police would conduct a full search. It was the only hope he could hold onto now, the last thread of rational thought before sleep overtook him completely.

As his body relaxed and the weight of exhaustion deepened, his thoughts began to fade. The sense of time dissolved into a gentle oblivion. He could feel the pull of sleep, a beckoning force that he could no longer resist. The last thing that crossed his mind, before everything turned to black, was the hope that the search would come soon. And then, with that single thought lingering, he slipped into unconsciousness.