Where Darkness Leads

"Kageyama Village?" Kenjiro's voice trembled as he stared at the woman, his eyes flickering between her and Sakamoto, who loomed in the shadows with an imposing air.

"Yes," she replied, her tone steady but laced with an urgency that gripped Kenjiro's chest like a vice.

His brows furrowed in confusion, and he shook his head slightly. "I... I don't understand. What's happening?"

Taking a deliberate breath, Fugemoto locked her gaze onto his. Her voice softened but carried an ominous weight. "Kenjiro-kun, what you believe to be a tattoo on your hand is no mere mark. It's a curse. The moment you touched the Green Book, it bound itself to you."

"A curse?" he echoed, his voice breaking as the mark on his left hand made his body shiver.

"That curse belongs to Kageyama Village,"

Kenjiro blinked, his thoughts reeling. "Are you telling me this... this thing on my hand is alive?"

Her expression darkened, and she nodded solemnly. "It is. My husband carried that curse for years to protect the village. That book was his seal, keeping the curse locked away. But you..." She hesitated, her voice softening with pity that pierced him like a dagger. "You broke the seal. Now it's yours."

The weight of her words sank in like lead in his chest. He flexed his left hand instinctively, a cold, uncomfortable sensation spreading through his skin.

"What... what am I supposed to do?" he asked, his voice trembling with the first hints of fear.

"You must go to Kageyama Village," she said firmly, leaving no room for argument. "There's an elder there who knows how to break the curse. He's the only one who can help you."

"And if I don't?" His question barely rose above a whisper, each word dripping with dread.

"You'll die," Sakamoto snapped, slamming his hand onto the table with a force that made Kenjiro jump. "This isn't a game, kid. The curse will consume you-slowly, painfully-until there's nothing left. And that village? It's a death trap. Going there might kill you anyway, but it's your only shot."

The room seemed to close in on Kenjiro, his breath quickening as panic clawed at him. "Fine," he managed to say, his voice weak. "I'll think about it."

"There's no time to think!" Sakamoto roared, his voice thunderous. "You leave tonight."

"Tonight?" Kenjiro's voice cracked, his knees threatening to buckle.

"Yes," Fugemoto said gently, though her firm gaze betrayed no leniency. "It's your only chance."

Kenjiro didn't reply. Instead, he stumbled out of the house, the weight of their words pressing down on him like a crushing boulder.

This can't be real, he thought as he staggered down the street, his body trembling. It has to be a nightmare.

His left hand jerked upward, striking his face with a sharp, stinging slap. A searing pain bloomed across his cheek, too vivid to ignore. His breath hitched.

"No…" he whispered, his voice hollow. "This is real."

Kenjiro found himself at his father's grave, kneeling as a tear rolled down his cheek. His hands trembled as he traced the name etched into the cold stone. I wish I could go back. Back to our quiet life. Back to when everything was normal.

But normal was gone.

Wiping his tears, he made his decision. I'm going to Kageyama Village. If death awaited him there, so be it. What did he have left to lose?

He returned home, his gaze lingering on the familiar walls as memories of his parents surfaced. A faint smile touched his lips before he decided to rest for a while. Today marked his final day at school, and he wanted to be ready.

As Kenjiro drifted into sleep, the dream came back to haunt him-just as it always did.

. . . . .

. . . . .

"Kenjiro, what are you doing here?" a voice called out, echoing in the darkness.

"Don't worry... Emiko will be fine," another voice responded.

"No."

"No."

The voices overlapped, disembodied and haunting. Shadows swirled in his mind, concealing the identities of those speaking. Then, as if from nowhere, that woman appeared again. Her grip on his hand was iron-tight, painful, as she dragged him deeper into the nightmare.

"I will kill you," her voice hissed, sharp and venomous.

In the dream, he was a child again, trembling and terrified, tears streaming down his face as fear gripped his tiny form.

Kenjiro shot awake, his breathing ragged, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Emiko... again," he whispered to himself, his voice heavy with frustration. "I wish I knew who you were. I wish I could help you."

He headed to the café where he worked, ready to serve customers one last time.

For his final shift, he poured his heart into every cup, crafting coffees with extra care and intricate designs, ensuring each one was perfect.

Kenjiro walked into the school, he glanced down the hallway, his eyes landing on Kenta, laughing with his group of friends. The sight ignited a spark of fury within him.

He's the one who broke my skateboard.

If he was going to die anyway, why hold back?

Without a second thought, Kenjiro stormed down the hallway, each step radiating anger. The chatter around them died as students turned to watch, sensing the brewing storm.

Kenta noticed too late. He turned just as Kenjiro's fist connected with his face, a bone-crunching impact that echoed through the silent hallway.

Kenta crumpled to the ground, blood gushing from his nose like a broken faucet.

Gasps erupted around them, but Kenjiro barely noticed. His fist ached, the skin split slightly, but the sight of Kenta's stunned, bloodied face gave him a grim sense of satisfaction.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Kenta shouted, clutching his face as he scrambled to his feet.

Kenjiro didn't answer. His breathing was heavy, his body vibrating with adrenaline. He turned sharply and bolted, heading straight for the nearest window.

"Kenjiro!" someone shouted behind him, but he didn't look back. He reached the half-open window, leapt through it, and landed perfectly on the ground below, his movements fluid and deliberate.

Kenjiro ran, his vision blurred by the whirlwind of emotions consuming him. His feet moved on their own, leading him somewhere familiar-somewhere that once brought him solace. Before he realized it, he stood at the edge of the school basketball court.

A group of students were mid-game, their shouts echoing in the crisp afternoon air. Basketball. His favorite game.

Without a second thought, Kenjiro darted onto the court, intercepting a pass with practiced precision.

"Hey, what the hell?" someone yelled, but Kenjiro didn't even glance back.

The ball felt right in his hands, grounding him in the midst of his turmoil. He dribbled past startled players, his movements swift and fluid, a muscle memory honed over countless hours. Reaching the three-point line, he leaped, releasing the ball with perfect form.

It sailed through the air, spinning gracefully before swishing cleanly through the net.

For a fleeting second, Kenjiro allowed himself a small smile. The familiar rhythm of the game dulled the chaos in his mind. But the peace was short-lived.

Reacting instinctively, he passed the ball to another player-or tried to. His left hand, as if possessed, hurled the ball with unnatural force. It struck the player square in the chest, sending him sprawling to the ground with a pained gasp.

"Kenjiro! What's your problem?" someone barked, anger crackling in their voice.

Kenjiro froze, his breath catching as he stared at his left hand. It trembled, alive with a power that wasn't his own.

"Damn it," he hissed, backing away as angry voices and shouts rose around him.

Before the situation could escalate further, the sound of guards approaching snapped him out of his daze. With a burst of adrenaline, Kenjiro pivoted and sprinted off the court, weaving through the chaos with ease.

He slipped past the guards at the school gates, their shouts fading behind him as he pushed his body harder, running without direction.

Outside, the adrenaline began to ebb, replaced by a crushing wave of guilt and confusion. He slowed to a walk, his chest heaving, sweat dampening his brow.

"What's happening to me?" he whispered, staring at his shaking hands. They didn't feel like his anymore.

He wandered aimlessly, the weight of his actions pressing heavily on his shoulders. Hours passed in a haze until he stumbled upon Hiroshi.

"Kenji!" Hiroshi called out, his grin as bright as ever, oblivious to the storm raging inside him.

Kenjiro managed a weak smile in return, grateful for the momentary reprieve. The two spent the rest of the day together, their laughter ringing through the streets like it always had.

But beneath Kenjiro's forced smiles and hollow laughter, a gnawing dread lingered. Tonight, everything would change. He could feel it, deep in his bones. His life was no longer his own.

After finishing their sushi, Kenjiro and Hiroshi returned to Kenjiro's house.

As they stepped inside, Kenjiro's eyes landed on a large box resting by the door. "What's that?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.

Hiroshi glanced at it briefly, his expression unreadable. "Nothing important. I'll tell you later."

Kenjiro smirked faintly. There's no later, Hiroshi.

Later that night, Hiroshi lay sprawled on the floor, fast asleep. His soft snores filled the room, a sign of how comfortable he felt in Kenjiro's presence. But Kenjiro couldn't relax.

He remained still, feigning sleep until he was sure Hiroshi wouldn't wake. Then, moving quietly, he got up and grabbed a piece of paper and a pen. Sitting at the dining table, he began to write, his hand steady despite the weight of his words:

Hiroshi,

I'm sorry, but I have to leave. I can't explain everything right now-I swear I have no choice. But I promise, someday I'll come back. Please take care of yourself until then.

Your best friend,

Kenji.

Kenjiro folded the note carefully and placed it on top of the mysterious box. He paused for a moment, glancing at Hiroshi's sleeping form on the floor. The sight made his chest tighten, but he shook it off.

He turned toward his room, moving silently as he got dressed. He chose black jeans, a simple white t-shirt, and a leather jacket. Lacing up his black boots, he ran a hand through his hair, brushing it into place.

Next, he reached for his small backpack, carefully packing a few essentials. He folded a couple of t-shirts neatly, tucking them inside alongside a treasured photo of his family from his childhood.

A bottle of water went in next, followed by a small supply of medicine and a handful of medical bandages, each item placed with deliberate care.

Once satisfied, he slung the bag over his shoulder and took a deep, steadying breath, bracing himself for the journey ahead.

He glanced back at Hiroshi one last time. I'll come back. I promise.

As Kenjiro stepped outside, the cool night air wrapped around him. To his surprise, Sakamoto and his wife stood under the dim glow of the streetlamp, waiting silently. Sakamoto held the Green Book tightly in his hands.

Kenjiro hesitated, glancing around. "Uh... no car? How exactly are we getting to the village?"

Sakamoto's wife gave him a knowing look, her calm voice carrying an air of mystery. "You'll find out soon enough."

Kenjiro sighed, adjusting his backpack.

This is going to be a long night.

The night was thick with darkness, the kind that pressed against your skin and swallowed all sound. As Kenjiro walked with Sakamoto and Fugemoto, an unsettling anxiety began to creep into his chest.

It wasn't until he realized they were deep within a forest that the unease turned into dread.

He froze mid-step, his eyes darting around. "Wait... where are we?"

"Kenjiro-kun, don't panic," Fugemoto said, her voice calm but unsettling in its serenity. "This is the right path."

He watched her for a moment, the memory of her hand sweeping over the Green Book flashing in his mind. His stomach churned. Are they witches? he wondered.

Reluctantly, he continued walking, every step heavier than the last. The forest grew darker, the canopy above blocking out even the faintest glimmer of moonlight. The only sound was their soft footsteps on the damp earth. The silence was suffocating.

Then, Kenjiro felt it-a presence, cold and deliberate, trailing behind him. His body shivered, goosebumps prickling his skin.

"Don't look back," Sakamoto said sharply, his voice cutting through the silence. He didn't even glance over his shoulder, but his tone left no room for argument.

Kenjiro swallowed hard and focused on the path ahead, but his heart thundered in his chest.

They walked until the trees began to thin, revealing something enormous looming in the distance.

A tree, impossibly massive, stood before them. Its trunk was wider than any building Kenjiro had ever seen, and its branches stretched so high they disappeared into the blackness above. The air around it felt charged, humming with an unnatural energy.

Kenjiro stared, awestruck. "What... what is this?"

"This," Sakamoto said, "is the gateway to Kageyama Village. When you touch it, you'll be transported there."

"Just like that?" Kenjiro asked, skepticism creeping into his voice.

"Yes," Sakamoto replied.

Fugemoto stepped forward, her face serious.

"Before you go, listen carefully. Never-under any circumstances-show the mark on your hand to anyone. Do you hear me? If they see it, they will kill you without hesitation."

Kenjiro's stomach twisted, but he nodded.

Sakamoto continued, "Once you're there, look for a man I've already contacted. He knows about you and will help you."

Kenjiro felt a flicker of relief. At least he wouldn't be entirely alone. He stepped toward the tree, but Sakamoto's voice stopped him.

"Wait."

Sakamoto stepped forward and pulled something out of his pocket. It was a necklace with an infinity design.

∞

On one side of it, the name "Kyu" was engraved in a simple, elegant font.

Fugemoto's expression turned to one of horror. "Kian!" she whispered sharply, her face tightening. "Is that... Kyu's necklace?"

"Yes," Sakamoto replied coldly.

"Have you lost your mind?!" she shouted, anger dominating her features. "You're giving him Kyu's necklace? Do you even know what that means?!"

Sakamoto clenched his jaw and said calmly, "I have no choice, Haruko. It's the only way he can enter the village. The tree only responds to it..." He paused, glancing at Kenjiro as though reluctant to finish the sentence in front of him.

Kenjiro watched the tense exchange, the weight of the moment settling over him like a heavy cloak.

Sakamoto handed the necklace to Kenjiro. "Put it on," he said.

Kenjiro slipped the necklace over his head. The metal felt unnaturally cold against his skin, sending a chill down his spine.

Sakamoto's expression hardened as he nodded toward the tree. "Go on. Touch it."

Kenjiro stepped closer, his hand trembling as he reached out.

"Good luck, kid," Sakamoto said, his voice flat and devoid of emotion. "I hope I never see you again."

"What?" Kenjiro turned to him, confusion flashing across his face, but before he could say anything more, his hand brushed against the tree.

The world shifted violently. Kenjiro barely had time to gasp as he was yanked inside, the air ripping around him like jagged claws. Then, everything went black.

"I can't believe you actually gave him Kyu necklace. You're insane," she said, her voice calm but dripping with disdain.

"You know I didn't have a damn choice," Sakamoto replied, a twisted grin spreading across his face.

"Finally, we're rid of that cursed power and that little shit. Honestly, your story was so good, I might've bought it myself."

She smirked, sliding off her glasses. "That dumbass. He actually thought he was hunting us, completely clueless that we've been trailing his sorry ass this whole time."

Sakamoto let out a dark, menacing laugh as he tore off the wig, revealing hair identical to Kenjiro's-same striking color, though shorter and tied neatly at the back.

One by one, he peeled away the prosthetics that had aged his features, exposing a youthful, sharp, and dangerously handsome face beneath.

He turned to his wife, a sly grin tugging at his lips. "Aren't you going to take off your wig as well?"

She leaned back with a wicked smirk, her eyes glinting with mischief. "No. I've grown to like the way it looks on me."

They weren't old-not even close.

Kenjiro had no idea that these two were the ones hunting him. They had used his obsession with books to trap him, manipulating his every move.

They forced that power onto him, protecting themselves while leaving him to face the consequences.

Sakamoto pressed a finger to his temple, his eyes narrowing in focus. "Hikaru, the boy's there now. He has Kyu necklace. Track him down and kill him before anyone else gets to him."

"Are you sure that Kyu necklace is with him? I couldn't track him with my senses, like I used to do with your son," Hikaru said, his voice tinged with frustration.

Kyu was their son.

Sakamoto's eyes remained closed, but his voice hardened with anger. "Hikaru, don't test my patience. He has the damn necklace. How the hell could you not track him?" His words were sharp, like a blade.

"I'm trying, Kian, but I can't... I think it's too late. The boy has become a..." Hikaru trailed off, his words faltering.

Sakamoto's voice cut through the silence like thunder, interrupting him. "Don't you dare say it. If you don't find him, I'll make sure I end both of your lives." His eyes snapped open, cold fury burning in them.

"Kenjiro Takahashi," he growled. "Have a nice night in hell. Let's go, honey."