A sharp gasp tore through Rei Kuzunoha's throat as his eyes shot open. He was no longer at the shrine, no longer surrounded by rotting wood and the stench of old blood. The floor beneath him was cold, smooth stone. Above, an intricately carved ceiling loomed, etched with symbols older than language... sigils of protection, banishment, and death.
Pain flared along the side of his neck. He hissed, his hand shooting up to clutch the burning skin. Under his fingers, a jagged, spiraling brand pulsed faintly...blackened, yet alive. The Mark of Shūen.
Memories came in fragments ,shattered glass, the monstrous clock, a voice that crawled inside his head. Then... darkness.
Now, he was somewhere else. Somewhere deeper.
The room was dimly lit, the air thick with incense and an almost electric tension. Along the curved walls, shelves brimmed with ancient scrolls and tomes. Strange relics, some still faintly glowing, sat behind reinforced glass. There were no windows. Only a heavy steel door reinforced with glowing seals.
Footsteps approached.
Rei tried to sit up but staggered. The dizziness passed just as the door creaked open. A tall man entered, wearing a black longcoat with silver threading in the shape of thorns. His hair was graying at the temples, and his expression was unreadable...calm, but not gentle.
"You're awake. Good," the man said. "I wasn't sure the curse would let you come back."
"Who... who are you?" Rei rasped.
"Hayato Kamizawa. Shisōshi. I specialize in containing cursed individuals like yourself."
Rei froze. "Containing...?"
Hayato didn't answer immediately. Instead, he stepped forward and pulled up a chair beside the bed. "You're in the subterranean quarters of the Shisōkai Society. We found you unconscious in the forest, bleeding from a cursed wound. That brand on your neck... it's the Mark of Shūen."
Rei swallowed hard. "So it's real..."
"Very."
Hayato leaned back, his voice measured but carrying the weight of decades. "The Shisōkai is an organization that has existed in the shadows for centuries. We handle what ordinary people cannot..Onryō. Spirits of hatred, vengeance, and sorrow. Most are born from extreme trauma, betrayal, or violent death."
He stood and began to pace slowly. "There are several kinds. Wandering Onryō, who drift between worlds. Bound Onryō, tied to objects or places. Manifested Onryō, like Shūen... who can interact with the physical world at will."
Rei's eyes followed him. "And what about me?"
"You are now a Marked One. The curse has touched you, claimed you. But that doesn't mean you're beyond saving. The Kanshisha Division - the Watchers , are tasked with monitoring those who walk the line between life and corruption."
The door opened again.
A woman stepped inside, her boots echoing with crisp precision. She wore a dark combat suit with the insignia of a Kanshisha etched in red on her shoulder. Her long black hair was tied into a high ponytail, and a katana rested on her hip.
"Speak of the devil," Hayato muttered. "Rei Kuzunoha, meet Mikasa Sumeragi. One of our best Kanshisha. She'll be overseeing your observation."
Mikasa offered no smile, only a cool gaze. "I'm not here to babysit. If he turns, I'll put him down myself."
Rei sat up straighter, narrowing his eyes. "I didn't ask for any of this."
"Neither did the people Shūen murdered," she shot back.
Hayato raised a hand. "Enough. Mikasa, show him to the observation quarters. He needs to see what we're dealing with."
The secret headquarters of Shisōkai sprawled beneath the surface like a hidden sanctum. Stone bridges arched over canals glowing with blue spiritual light. Buildings were carved into the rock, reinforced with charms and lined with paper seals. Training fields. Armories. Laboratories. Entire wings dedicated to cursed artifact containment.
Rei walked beside Mikasa in silence, absorbing the impossible scale.
"This place... how does no one know about it?"
"People only see what they want to see," Mikasa replied. "The society's been here long before your great-grandfather was born. We erase memories, seal places, silence rumors. That's the price of keeping the world sane."
They passed a corridor lined with cells. Each one had its own containment field, flickering with ethereal energy. Inside, vague humanoid shapes shifted, some weeping, some clawing at the walls.
Rei slowed. "Are those..."
"Onryō that couldn't be exorcised. We keep them here until we find a way to purify or destroy them. Some have been here for decades."
A child's laughter echoed. Cold and wrong. Rei's skin crawled.
Mikasa noticed. "You'll get used to it. Or it'll kill you."
She led him into a chamber filled with screens and charts, tracking spiritual anomalies across Japan.
"This is the Nexus Room," she explained. "We monitor every reported disturbance tied to a potential Onryō manifestation. Most are false alarms. But some..."
Rei stared at a map with a pulsing red dot over Aokigahara.
"That's where we found you," she confirmed. "That shrine has been sealed for centuries. Someone broke the rope."
He looked down. "It was me."
Mikasa's eyes narrowed. "Then you started this."
Before he could answer, a sharp sting flared in his neck.
"Vessel."
The voice returned. Cold. Echoing from nowhere.
Rei staggered, gripping the wall.
Mikasa drew her blade instantly. "What's wrong?"
He didn't answer. Shadows gathered at the edge of his vision. The world tilted. Then stabilized.
"He's speaking to me again," Rei whispered. "Shūen."
Hayato's voice came through a comm-crystal on the wall. "Mikasa, get him to the Isolation Chamber. Now."
The Isolation Chamber was a high-vaulted dome, etched with dozens of protective seals. In the center was a single chair bound by threads of spiritual silk.
"Sit," Mikasa ordered.
"What if he takes over?" Rei asked, trembling.
"Then I'll kill you before he can." Her voice was steel.
He sat.
A surge of cold ran down his spine as the seals activated.
This time, the vision came stronger. Not a nightmare, but a memory.
The scent of smoke. Laughter. Night.
A festival. People dancing, fireworks crackling. Lanterns floating into the sky.
Then.... a scream.
A splash of blood across a ceremonial robe.
Everything turned red.
Rei gasped. His eyes snapped open.
Mikasa stepped forward. "What did you see?"
He hesitated. "I think... it was his memory. Shūen's."
She stared. "You're syncing with him already? This fast?"
Hayato entered behind her, grim faced. "Then we don't have much time. We need to find out what he wants. And if he's using you to return."
Rei lowered his gaze. The mark on his neck burned hotter than ever.
He wasn't just cursed.
He was chosen.
As Hayato guided Rei through the heart of the compound, they arrived at an expansive subterranean chamber, carved from stone and steeped in an eerie, timeless stillness. Talismans floated weightlessly in the air, their surfaces inscribed with archaic kanji, etched in vermilion ink that shimmered like dried blood. Each one radiated residual malice fragments of malevolent spirits sealed within. A distant, rhythmic chanting echoed faintly through the cavernous space, like forgotten prayers whispered by the dead.
"This is the Archive," Hayato murmured, his voice hushed with reverence. "Only the Elders of the Shisōkai are permitted past that gate. These seals contain the essence of curses too ancient, too virulent, to ever be destroyed." The air grew colder, denser, heavy with centuries of dread and sacrifice, as though the stone itself mourned the blood that had once seeped into its cracks.
That night, in the solitude of his assigned quarters...minimalist yet imbued with quiet dignity , Rei sat cross-legged beside a low, lacquered table.
The paper walls allowed in only slivers of moonlight, casting long, shifting shadows across the tatami mats. His hand wandered to the fresh bandage wrapped around his neck, beneath which the Mark of Shūen pulsed with an unnatural warmth, like an ember refusing to die. Beyond the bamboo-framed window, the wind stirred the leaves with a sighing grace. "You were always meant to carry me," the whisper from the shrine returned to him, curling in his thoughts like smoke.
Rei couldn't discern whether it was Shūen's voice or some deeper echo of his own fate ,but in that moment, he understood: this path he had stepped into was no longer just a journey to uncover Haruki's disappearance. Something ancient, buried in grief and rage, had chosen him as its vessel.