The walk back to the estate was long.
Reiko said little. She kept her head down, hands balled into fists at her sides, the locket's chain biting into her skin with every step. Even Shin, normally so quick to fill the silence with jokes or reassurances, stayed quiet. The mist clung to them like wet cloth, and the memory of Takezo Kiba's words gnawed at Reiko's mind.
The heir who will remember.
The debt coming due.
Kasumi… smiling, waiting.
A shiver wracked her body, and she stumbled on the uneven path. Shin was instantly at her side, catching her elbow.
"Hey," he said softly. "You're freezing. Here."
He slipped the jacket he had brought over her shoulders. It smelled faintly of him—of rain and smoke and something grounding. Reiko clutched it tighter, but the warmth could not reach the pit that had hollowed out inside her.
"I'm fine," she murmured, though it was a lie.
Shin didn't argue. Instead, he matched his pace to hers, close but not smothering. The quiet way he supported her—without demands, without pity—made something sting behind Reiko's eyes.
When they finally reached the outer wall of the Sakuma estate, Reiko paused at the gate, staring up at the heavy wooden doors as if seeing them for the first time.
Inside those walls were ghosts. Memories. Secrets.
And maybe... her doom.
"Reiko," Shin said, tugging gently on her sleeve. "Look at me."
She turned.
He wasn't smiling. His brown eyes were serious, steady.
"You're not alone in this, okay? No matter what that old man said. No matter what Kasumi wants. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."
The words, simple as they were, struck something deep inside her.
A crack in the fear.
A tiny sliver of light.
Reiko swallowed hard, forcing a nod. "Thank you, Shin."
They stepped inside.
The house was quiet, almost oppressively so. Only the distant sound of wind chimes broke the heavy silence.
As they crossed the main hall, a figure emerged from the far corridor.
An old man in pristine priest's robes, his hair snowy white, his eyes sharp and dark. He walked with a polished wooden staff, though his back was straight and proud.
Reiko froze.
She knew him.
"Haji Hoshino…" she whispered.
The head priest of the Miya-zaki Shrine. The man who had performed her mother's memorial service. She hadn't seen him in years, but his presence was unmistakable—a stillness, a weight, like an ancient tree rooted deep into the earth.
Hoshino inclined his head respectfully. "Reiko-dono. Shin-kun."
"Hoshino-sama," Reiko said, bowing low.
"Forgive my sudden arrival," the priest said, his voice a low rumble. "I was summoned… by fate, one might say."
He smiled, but it did not reach his eyes.
There was a knowing in his gaze that made Reiko's skin prickle.
"We… we just returned from the Miya-zaki Shrine," she said. "We spoke with Takezo Kiba."
Hoshino's smile faltered.
"I thought as much," he said. He looked toward the shoji doors leading to the main sitting room. "Come. There is much you must hear. And little time."
Reluctantly, they followed him.
The sitting room was dim, the lamps low. Hoshino settled onto a cushion with slow, deliberate grace, setting his staff beside him.
Reiko and Shin knelt opposite him, the low table between them feeling like a fragile barrier.
For a moment, Hoshino only studied Reiko, his hands folded neatly in his lap.
"You have seen her," he said at last. It wasn't a question.
Reiko nodded, throat tight.
Hoshino closed his eyes briefly, as if offering a prayer.
"The Curse of Miya-zaki," he said, "has awakened again."
The room seemed to darken.
Reiko felt herself leaning forward despite herself, heart pounding.
"C-curse?" Shin echoed.
Hoshino opened his eyes.
"Long ago, in the founding days of this village, the Sakuma family made a covenant with a spirit of the mountain. A being old as the stones, born of sorrow and hunger. In exchange for protection, prosperity... they offered it a pact."
Reiko's blood ran cold.
"The price," Hoshino continued, voice low, "was the blood of their own daughters. Their women."
Shin's hands slammed against the table. "That's insane!"
But Hoshino only looked sad.
"Every generation, the curse demands a sacrifice. A woman of Sakuma blood, taken before her time. If the family fails to offer willingly… the spirit takes them. Through illness. Through accidents. Through madness."
Reiko's breath caught.
"My mother," she whispered. "Miyako…"
Hoshino bowed his head.
"She resisted the curse. She tried to sever it. But such bonds are not easily broken. Her death was... inevitable."
Reiko's heart twisted painfully.
"And now your father, Tatsuya-sama," Hoshino said gravely, "is marked as well. The curse, sensing rebellion, strikes not only the daughters... but those who shield them."
Shin stared at him, aghast. "Are you saying—?"
"Your father was dying," Hoshino said to Reiko. "Slowly. By inches."
Tears burned behind Reiko's eyes.
"And after him…" Hoshino's voice dropped to a whisper. "You will be next."
The room reeled.
Reiko clutched the locket desperately, feeling its unnatural chill seeping into her skin.
"No," she whispered. "There must be a way to break it. To end this."
Hoshino's gaze sharpened.
"There is," he said. "But it is perilous. And it will demand a price even steeper than the curse itself."
Reiko bit her lip, forcing down the terror rising inside her.
"What must I do?"
Hoshino leaned closer.
"You must confront the spirit," he said. "At the heart of the Miya-zaki Shrine. In the place where the covenant was first sealed. There, and only there, can the bond be shattered."
"But how?" Shin asked, voice tight with anger. "She's just a kid! You expect her to fight some ancient demon?"
Hoshino's face softened, but he did not flinch.
"She is stronger than she knows," he said. "Because she carries not only the curse—but the hope of every Sakuma who suffered before her."
Reiko sat frozen, words clawing at her throat.
Hope.
Or death.
There was no middle ground.
"You must go," Hoshino said, "before the next full moon. Before the spirit claims another."
He rose to his feet with the slow, deliberate grace of a man carrying centuries of burden.
As he turned to leave, he paused at the threshold.
"One more thing," he said without looking back. "Beware Kasumi."
Reiko's breath hitched.
"Why?" she asked.
Hoshino's voice was like a blade drawn in the dark.
"Because once, long ago… she was the spirit's first daughter."
Then he was gone.
Leaving Reiko and Shin alone in the dim room, the weight of the past crashing down around them.
Reiko stared at her hands, at the faint tremor she could not still.
First daughter.
Kasumi wasn't just another victim.
She was part of the curse.
Part of the ancient hunger that would not be denied.
Shin reached out, covering her hand with his.
"We'll find a way," he said fiercely. "Together."
But even as he said it, Reiko heard it—
Faint, on the edges of hearing.
A child's laugh.
Cold.
Hungry.
Waiting.
To be continue