Chapter 8: The River’s Hunger

The river stretched before us, a silver thread cutting through the shadowed valley, its surface rippling under a moonless sky. The air was thick with mist, carrying a scent like wet stone and decay. My pendant pulsed erratically, its warmth now a warning rather than a comfort. We'd left Grandma's village at dawn, guided by the spirit's words from the forest nexus: Seek the river gate, where water weeps. But as we stood on the muddy bank, I felt the weight of my heritage pressing down—gatekeeper blood, a duty I barely understood, and a hunger that wasn't mine gnawing at my mind.

Haruto stood beside me, his shinai gripped tightly, his face set in a rare serious expression. Hana Fujimoto scanned the water, her cracked flute in hand, her green hair damp with mist. Aiko floated above, her usual mischief replaced by a tense stillness, her red eyes reflecting the river's eerie glow. The Devourer's defeat had bought us time, but the Herald's parting words lingered: Your host awaits. Someone—or something—was pulling the strings, and this river gate was the next step.

"We're close," Hana said, her voice low. "The nature spirits are silent, which means something big's here. My family's wards might not hold against it."

I nodded, my fingers brushing the pendant. "I felt it back at the house—the shadow in my mind. It's stronger now. Like it's waiting."

Haruto glanced at me, his brow furrowed. "We'll handle it, Yuna. You're not alone in this."

His words steadied me, but the river's current seemed to laugh, a low, mocking gurgle. I closed my eyes, reaching for the gate's pulse, and saw it—a shimmering veil beneath the water, its edges frayed and leaking darkness. Feed us, the shadow whispered again, and my stomach churned.

"Get ready," I said, opening my eyes. "It's down there."

I'd faced a lot since summoning Aiko—chef spirits, vine domes, even that creepy Herald—but this river gave me the creeps like nothing else. The mist clung to my skin, and the water's glow made it look alive, like it was watching us. Yuna's face was pale, her pendant glowing faintly, and I hated how scared she looked. She was the gatekeeper, sure, but she was still Yuna—my friend who'd shared tamagoyaki and cookies. I wasn't letting some shadow mess with her.

Hana knelt by the bank, playing a soft tune on her flute. The notes wove into the mist, and glowing motes appeared—nature spirits, tiny and skittish, darting like fireflies.

"Fujimoto technique: spirit scout," she murmured. "They'll check the gate. Stay sharp."

Aiko floated closer, her voice tight.

"The pact's magic is buzzing. Whatever's down there, it's not like the Devourer. Bigger. Older."

"Great," I muttered, gripping my shinai. "Just what we need—spirit granddad."

The motes suddenly scattered, and the river erupted. Water surged, and a new spirit rose—tall and skeletal, its body formed from twisted river reeds and bones, its eyes hollow sockets leaking black ichor. Its voice was a gurgling wail, echoing with a thousand drowned voices.

"Gatekeeper… the Feast hungers. Open the gate, or the river claims you."

I stumbled back, heart pounding. "That's new! What is that thing?"

Hana's flute faltered, her face grim.

"A Drowned Chorus—a spirit born from water and despair. The Hollow Feast feeds on lost souls, and this one's their herald. My wards won't cut it."

Yuna stepped forward, her pendant blazing.

"It's my gate," she said, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. "I'll close it."

The Drowned Chorus lunged, its bony arms slashing. I swung my shinai, blocking a strike, but the impact sent a jolt up my arm.

"Yuna, do your thing! I'll hold it off!"

Hana played a sharp note, and vines burst from the bank, tangling the spirit's legs.

"Spirit snare!" she shouted, but the Chorus broke free, its wail intensifying. The water rose, forming tendrils that lashed at us.

Aiko flared, her form glowing red. "Pact power, Haruto! Feed the circle!"

I fumbled for the salt in my bag, drawing a shaky circle around Yuna.

"Spirits of the beyond, help us out!" I chanted, pouring my will into it.

The pact's magic flared, warm but tinged with a cold edge, merging with Yuna's light.

The Drowned Chorus's wail filled my head, a chorus of lost voices pleading, accusing. My pendant burned, and I saw flashes—Grandma by this river, her hands glowing as she sealed the gate, her face etched with sorrow. The hunger never stops, Yuna, she'd said in my memory. You must be stronger.

I raised the pendant, its light clashing with the Chorus's darkness. "I'm Yuna Sato, gatekeeper," I said, my voice breaking but resolute. "This gate is mine to guard!"

The water tendrils surged, but Haruto's salt circle pulsed, and Aiko's energy flowed into me. Hana's flute hit a high, mournful note, and her spirit ward flared, a shimmering dome that slowed the Chorus's advance.

"Hold the line, Sato!" she yelled.

I focused, reaching for the gate's pulse beneath the river. It was wild, chaotic, leaking the Chorus's essence. My blood sang with it, and I traced symbols in the air, guided by instinct—Grandma's lessons buried in my soul. The gate's veil shimmered, and the Chorus roared, its ichor splashing my face.

Then I felt it—a presence beyond the spirit, cold and commanding. The Herald's voice slithered into my mind. Well done, gatekeeper. Your blood strengthens the Feast. The host watches.

The Chorus lunged again, but I thrust the pendant forward, channeling everything—my fear, my resolve, Grandma's memory. The gate's light surged, pulling the Chorus into its depths. Its wail cut off as the veil sealed, the river settling into an uneasy calm.

I collapsed, gasping, and Haruto caught me, his arms steady. "You did it," he said, his voice rough with relief.

Hana lowered her flute, her hands shaking. "Barely. That thing was strong. The Herald's right—the host is pulling the strings."

Aiko flickered, her form dim.

"The pact's tied tighter now. The river gate's sealed, but the Feast's host is close. They're using your gates, Yuna, to break the old seals."

I wiped the ichor from my face, my heart sinking. "Who are they?"

The mist thickened, and a shadow loomed—a figure cloaked in black, their staff's cracked bell ringing softly.

The Herald. "Curious, gatekeeper?" they said, their silver eyes glinting.

"The host is no stranger to your blood. A Sato who turned the tide—your uncle, lost to the Feast's promise. He seeks to rule the spirit realms, and your gates are his keys."

My breath caught. Uncle? Grandma had never spoken of him, but the name stirred a faint memory—a shadow in old photos, a voice I couldn't place. "You're lying," I whispered.

The Herald laughed, a sound that chilled my bones. "See for yourself. The river gate was but a taste. The north gate calls you home, where he waits."

They vanished, leaving silence. Haruto's grip tightened on my shoulder. "We'll stop him, Yuna. Whoever he is."

Hana's flute hummed, a somber note. "My family's messengers will warn the Fujimotos. We'll need more than songs for this."

I nodded, the pendant's pulse a steady drum. My uncle—a traitor to our blood, feeding the Feast. The gatekeeper's duty was mine, and the hunger beneath would face me. I wouldn't break.

Yuna's uncle. A Sato turned bad. My head spun as we trudged back to the village, the river's glow fading behind us. She was silent, her face a mask, but I could feel her shaking. I wanted to say something—anything—to fix it, but this wasn't about ramen or kendo. This was her family, her fight.

Aiko floated beside me, her voice low.

"The pact's linked to her blood now. Her uncle's using it to fuel the Feast. We're running out of time."

Hana kicked a rock, her usual grin gone.

"Fujimoto messengers can't fight a gatekeeper gone rogue. We'll need the Mizunos, the Takahashis—everyone. This host isn't playing."

I gripped my shinai, the weight familiar but useless against this.

"Then we get them. Yuna's not facing her uncle alone."

She looked at me, her eyes wet but fierce. "Thanks, Haruto. But this is my blood. My gate."

"And I'm your pact idiot," I said, forcing a smile. "We're a team. Let's take him down."

The mist swallowed us, and the forest whispered with hunger. The north gate awaited, and with it, a battle I wasn't sure we'd win. But for Yuna, I'd try.