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Chapter Text

*****The Heart Beneath the Icing!******

The Ayase kitchen looked like a sugar bomb had detonated. Flour dusted every surface, sprinkles scattered like confetti, and the faint charred smell of overdone edges lingered. Momo stood at the counter, sleeves rolled up, hair in a messy ponytail, glaring at the piping bag like it had personally offended her. Seiko leaned in the doorway in her robe, arms crossed, smirking.

"They're for my friends," Momo muttered, carefully swirling pink strawberry frosting onto the last few hearts. "Class thing. Don't make it weird."

Seiko's smirk widened. "Friends. Right. Funny how most are basic little hearts... but that one's noticeably bigger. Extra frosting swirls. Almost like it's special."

Momo nearly fumbled the bag. "Shut up, Grandma! It's just... overflowing. Extra dough. Whatever."

She quickly covered the oversized cookie with another layer of frosting, trying to make it look like all the rest, nothing different, nothing obvious. Inside, her stomach flipped. Okarun never gets anything like this. He'd probably think it's dumb. But... he'd smile. That dumb, grateful smile. And I want him to have that. Stupid dummy.

She packed the regular batch into a big tin for her classmates (nothing fancy), but the special one went into a small paper bag she stuffed deep in her school bag. No note. No fuss. Just a cookie.

Standing quietly in the doorway not too close, because Seiko had already given her the side-eye was Vamola. She stood with her hands clasped behind her back, big round eyes following Momo's every careful swirl and nervous glance with pure, silent fascination. She hadn't said a word since she wandered in earlier. Just watched. Sweetly. Like Momo was performing some mysterious Earth ritual she wanted to understand but didn't dare interrupt.

Seiko noticed. She jerked her thumb toward Vamola without looking away from Momo.

"You gonna help, space girl, or are you just here to learn how to burn things?"

Vamola blinked slowly, ears twitching once. She didn't move from her spot.

Seiko snorted. "See? Already learning from the master. Stand any closer and you'll inherit her ability to turn frosting into modern art disasters."

Momo shot Seiko a glare. "She's not learning anything bad! She's just... watching."

"Yeah, watching you flirt with that piping bag like it's your new boyfriend." Seiko leaned in, voice dropping to a mock whisper. "Careful, Vamola. One more heart like that and you'll be baking love poems into bread loaves by next week."

Momo's face went scarlet. "Grandma!"

Seiko cackled. "What? I'm old. I can say these things."

Momo huffed, turned back to the counter, and very deliberately avoided looking at either of them. She sealed the small paper bag with more force than necessary, then shoved it deep into her school bag. No one needed to know. Especially not about the oversized heart one.

Seiko chuckled under her breath. "Hopeless."
Momo shot her a glare, but the corner of her mouth twitched. "Yeah, well... help me clean this disaster before I make you eat the burnt ones."

*********Valentine's day at school*********

Day 1 … Valentine's Day

**Morning ***Crimson arrival***

High above Kami High School and the sleepy town surrounding it, the pre-dawn sky split open with a silent crimson-black streak too slow and deliberate for any meteor. It wasn’t a star falling. It was something else...

It moved with purpose, trailing faint red mist that bled into the fading dark like ink in water. A quiet, shimmering presence that hungered for something deeper than light.

It tasted the planet below faint spiritual echoes, dull human auras, scattered yokai traces. Then one signature burned brighter: chaotic, powerful, yokai curse fused with human spirit. Then, It tasted it!

It adjusted trajectory mid-fall descended toward the school grounds, behind the track field in a patch of overgrown grass. The streak dimmed as it neared the surface, vanishing into the shadows without a sound.

Slithered toward the school silent, unseen. Needed ingestion to bond. Time to settle half a day into heart and core.

Okarun sat on the bench outside the entrance, backpack at his feet, finishing the last paragraph of a history paper under the pale morning light. Glasses slipping, hair messy, he muttered to himself: "Just get this done... then wait for Miss Ayase. Don't be weird about Valentine's. It's fine."

He paused mid-sentence, pen hovering. Something caught his eye, a slow, shimmering streak of crimson-black light cutting across the sky, bright enough to stand out against the fading stars. Not a plane, not a shooting star. Almost... beautiful. Like a slow-burning firework trail.

Okarun tilted his head up, watching for a few seconds.

"...whoa. Cool."

A small, distracted smile tugged at his lips. Meteor? Or satellite re-entry? He shrugged just a fun little detail in an otherwise boring morning and dropped his gaze back to the paper. Pen scratched across the page again.

The creeping crimson entity, now on the ground, tasted his aura from afar delicious instability. It slithered closer. The backpack zipper was half-open. Opportunity.

It flowed inside silently, a faint shimmer vanishing among notebooks and pens. Hidden. Patient. Waiting.

*Valentine's Day morning before class*

School gates buzzed with early Valentine's energy girls giggling over tins of chocolates, guys pretending not to notice the pink ribbons everywhere. Momo strode through the halls, big tin of heart-shaped cookies under one arm, the small paper bag with the special one clutched like a live grenade.

She hit her classroom first, casually dumping the tin on a desk. "Here. Extras from last night. Take 'em if you want." Classmates swarmed thanks, squeals, compliments on the frosting. She brushed it off with a shrug: "Grandma helped. Don't make it weird."

But her real target was Okarun's class down the hall.

She lingered outside his door, heart doing annoying flips. Okay. Just hand it over. It's a cookie. Not a confession. He's my friend. My dumb, glasses-wearing friend who probably thinks Valentine's is some capitalist scam. But... he never gets this stuff. And I want him to feel... included? Happy? Ugh.

She peeked in. He was at his desk, head down over a notebook, oblivious. The backpack on the floor beside his zipper is half-open.

Momo took a deep breath. If I chicken out now, I'll hate myself all day. Just do it. Quick. Casual.

She marched in, ignoring curious glances. "Hey. Okarun."

He looked up, startled then his face softened into that shy, genuine smile that always made her stomach twist. "Miss Ayase?” “Good Morning!"

She thrust the small paper bag forward like it was on fire. "Here. Don't get the wrong idea, idiot. I made a bunch for the class and... this one was leftover. Bigger 'cause... dough math or whatever. Strawberry frosting. Whatever. Just eat it."

Her voice was gruff, cheeks flushing a faint pink, eyes darting anywhere but his face. She rocked on her heels, a nervous tic she thought no one noticed.

Okarun took the bag carefully, like it was fragile glass. He opened it slowly. The cookie inside was noticeably larger with perfect edges, generous swirls of glossy strawberry frosting catching the morning light.

His eyes widened. "You... made this? For me?"

Momo crossed her arms tighter, looking away. "I said leftover, dummy. Don't make it a thing."

But he wasn't listening. He stared at the cookie like it was the first gift he'd ever received. No one had ever done this for him on Valentine's day, not friends, nobody. Warmth spread through his chest soft, overwhelming, unguarded. Cheeks flushed. He smiled small, real, boyish, the kind of smile he never let anyone see because it felt too vulnerable.

Inside the backpack, It watched every movement, every glance, every blush, every hesitation, every hidden hope. It was observed silently. It learned. It waited.

"Thank you, Miss Ayase," he said quietly, voice thick with real gratitude. "Really. This... means a lot. Happy Valentine's Day."

Momo's ears burned bright red. She muttered something incoherent, punched his shoulder lightly (more like a nudge), and bolted before he could see her face fully. "Whatever! See you later, four-eyes!"

She fled down the hall, heart racing. Idiot. Why'd I say that? Smooth, Momo. Real smooth.

Okarun sat back down, bag cradled in his lap, smiling like an idiot. He didn't notice the faint shimmer in his backpack, slightly watching, waiting.

Lunchtime. Courtyard bench. Okarun arrived first. Pulled out the cookie. Set it on a napkin. He admired it again. She really made this. For me….

He was about to take a bite when he heard the hallway door swing open loud, followed by a dramatic yelp.

Momo emerged, supporting Miko who was limping badly, one arm slung over Momo's shoulders like a war casualty. Miko's right foot was wrapped in a hasty bandage made from torn gym towel strips, and she hopped on one leg while clutching a plastic bag of ice.

"Stupid dummy, I told you not to try the 'volcano experiment' with actual fireworks-grade baking soda!" Momo grumbled, half-dragging, half-carrying her friend toward the nurse's office direction.

Miko whined dramatically, leaning heavier on Momo. "It was supposed to be a small eruption for extra credit! How was I supposed to know the reaction would launch my shoe across the lab and sprain my ankle when it landed on my own foot? Physics betrayed me!"

Momo rolled her eyes so hard it was audible. "Physics didn't betray you. Gravity did. And your terrible decision-making, moron."

Okarun stood up instinctively as they approached. " Miss Ayase? What happened?"

Momo spotted him and waved him off with her free hand. "Hey. Change of plans. Miko decided to turn the chem lab into a war zone and lost. I'm taking her to the nurse. Can't join you for lunch today, Okarun. Eat without me. I'll catch up when I can."

She gave him a quick, apologetic half-smile, but softer than usual before turning to limp Miko away. Miko threw a dramatic salute over her shoulder. "Sorry to steal your lunch buddy, Okarun! Blame the baking soda demon!"

Okarun waved awkwardly. "Uh... get better soon!"

He sat back down, a little deflated but still smiling at the cookie. She's helping her friend. That's just... Miss Ayase being Miss Ayase. Cool.

He reached into the backpack for his water bottle.

Something seeped out a thin, liquid shimmer and merged flawlessly with the strawberry frosting. The red sheen blended perfectly into the glaze. Gone in an instant.

Okarun took a sip of water, then picked up the cookie. For the briefest instant, the frosting seemed glossier.

And took a bite!

First taste: sweet, perfect strawberry. Incredible. The best thing he'd had in ages.

Then a deeper bite something strange. A cool, jello-like feeling slid down his throat. Slick. Gelatinous. It tickled, almost cold, like swallowing a chill.

He paused, cleared his throat once, twice. "Weird... maybe a little cold coming on." Rubbed his chest absently right over his heart. A faint warmth settled there, comfortable, almost pleasant. He mistook it for simple happiness and nerves from the day's excitement.

He smiled at the half-eaten cookie, waiting happily.

**After School **

School ended in the usual rush of voices and footsteps. Momo caught up with Okarun at the gates, hands shoved in her pockets, already complaining about the lab cleanup she’d been roped into helping with. Miko had been sent home early on crutches with strict orders to “stop being a walking disaster,” which left Momo grumbling as she fell into step beside Okarun like always.

“Next time Miko wants ‘extra credit,’ I’m tying her to a chair,” she muttered, kicking a pebble down the path.

Okarun laughed quietly softly, familiarly. “She seemed… enthusiastic.”

“She’s an idiot. But she’s our idiot.” Momo glanced sideways at him. “You finished that cookie? It looked like you were treating it like gold.”

He nodded, cheeks tinting pink. “It was really good. Thanks again. Seriously.”

She shrugged, looking away to hide her own flush. “Whatever. Don’t get used to it, four-eyes.”

A few steps behind them, Vamola walked quietly as she waited at the gates with Momo, big round eyes fixed on Okarun with that gentle, wordless care she always carried for him. She didn’t say anything, just kept pace, ears twitching slightly every time he spoke or coughed.

They walked in comfortable silence for a while, the usual route past the convenience store, the old shrine, the split in the road where they’d parted ways. Then Okarun suddenly coughed hard, deep, like something thick was caught in his chest. He doubled over slightly, hand to his mouth.

Momo stopped. “Whoa! Hey, you okay?”

Vamola’s ears flicked forward sharply. She stepped closer without a sound, eyes wide and worried.

Okarun straightened, waving it off with a weak smile. “Yeah, just… tickle in my throat. Probably dust or something.”

But as he looked up at Momo, his eyes flared crimson red for a single heartbeat bright, glowing, like embers flaring in the dusk light before snapping back to normal brown.

Momo blinked. She knew that flash; it was the same one Turbo Granny’s curse sometimes triggered. Still, seeing it flare up during something as boring as walking home felt… off.

“Your eyes did the red thing,” she said, tilting her head. “The Turbo Granny flash.”

Okarun rubbed the back of his neck, a little sheepish. “Yeah… sometimes it just happens. I don’t really know why. The curse does weird stuff every once in a while. Probably nothing.”

Vamola tilted her head too, mirroring Momo unconsciously. Her big eyes stayed locked on Okarun, soft and searching, like she was trying to see if he was really okay.

Momo studied him a second longer. It wasn’t the intense glow from battles this was softer, almost accidental. She teased lightly, trying to shake off the weird feeling: “Well, it’d probably be quicker for you to get home if you just used your turbo speed.”

Okarun gave a weak laugh then coughed once more, deeper this time, like something shifting in his lungs. He cleared his throat, voice quieter. “No turbo speed today… I feel really off.”

Momo’s teasing smile faltered for a second as she studied him again, worry flickering behind her eyes. Vamola’s ears drooped slightly, her small hands twisting together in silent concern.

But Momo shrugged it off, punching his shoulder lightly. “See you tomorrow. And try not to stay up too late coughing up a lung, dummy.”

Okarun grinned despite himself. “I’ll try. Night, Miss Ayase.”

He waved once, then turned down his path. Momo watched him go a few steps before turning away herself. That crimson flash lingered in her mind not scary, just… off. He’d never had it happen during something as boring as walking home. And that cough sounded worse than before.

Vamola stayed beside her a moment longer, eyes still fixed on the spot where Okarun had disappeared. She didn’t speak. She just gave one small, worried nod like she understood something was wrong then quietly followed Momo toward home.

Momo shook her head, trying to dislodge the tiny seed of worry planting itself deeper this time.

Probably just the curse being annoying. Yeah.

 

*******Overnight *******

Alone in his room, Okarun felt wrongness settle in like damp rot.

He tried to eat usual late-night instant ramen, comfort food that always grounded him. But the noodles tasted like nothing. Like chewing wet paper soaked in lukewarm water. No salt, no broth, no warmth. He forced a few bites down anyway, stomach churning, feeling like he was filling a hole that had no bottom.

His body felt worn out, not tired in the normal way, but hollowed. Heavy limbs, heavy eyelids, heavy chest, like someone had scooped out everything vital and left only the shell. Breathing took effort. Moving took effort. Even thinking felt slow, like wading through syrup.

He crawled into bed. The mattress creaked under him louder than usual. He stared at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to take the edge off.

It didn't.

Something moved under his skin faint, slow, like a single thread of silk being pulled through muscle. Not painful. Just... there. Crawling. Shifting. He pressed a hand to his forearm with nothing visible. Nothing moving. He told himself it was a muscle twitch. Late-night nerves. Nothing.

His canines ached a dull, persistent throb deep in the gums. He ran his tongue over them; they felt longer, sharper, almost foreign. For a second he froze heart skipping because he'd never had sharp teeth with Turbo Granny. Never. But the warmth in his chest spread then slowly, pleasant, like sinking into hot water after being cold too long. The ache dulled. The strangeness dulled. His mind softened around the edges.

Just... curse glitch, he thought, already half-forgetting why it had bothered him.

The warmth wrapped tighter, comforting, almost loving. It felt good. Too good. He let his eyes drift closed.

The tongue felt a strange tip numb, slightly thicker, slightly darker when he glimpsed it in the dark. He swallowed. Ignored it.

The last thing he felt before sleep took him was that deep, hollow exhaustion like his body was a house with all the lights turned off, rooms empty, only one faint candle burning somewhere deep inside.

He slept.

Still worn out.

Still wrong.

But the warmth stayed soft, pleasant, whispering it's fine, it's fine, it's fine until even the worry faded into black.

 

Come check me out on Tumblr I do my own fan art and love Dandadan so much 💖 so I just love sharing anything that deals with it!  Have a great day

https://www.tumblr.com/psychicmomo?source=share

Chapter Text

*******Under my Skin********

 

**** Day 2 – School Escalation*****

Okarun woke up shivering, the room felt like a freezer despite the heater running full blast. The thermostat read normal. Just him.

In the kitchen, he cooked breakfast like always a couple of sunny-side-up eggs, his one reliable morning ritual. He could actually cook nothing fancy, but he knew the basics. Today the whites overcooked into rubbery edges while the yolks stayed too runny and broke when he tried to flip them. The plate looked messy, yellow smeared across the whites, toast slightly burnt on one side.

Normally he might sigh or scrape the bad parts off. Today he just stared at it for a second... then shrugged. Didn't bother him. Nothing really did this morning.

He ate anyway. The eggs tasted completely flat like chewing warm, flavorless rubber. No salt, no richness, no comfort. He forced them down, stomach churning, feeling like he was filling a hole that had no bottom.

His body felt worn out, not tired in the normal way, but hollowed. Heavy limbs, heavy eyelids, heavy chest like someone had scooped out everything vital and left only the shell. Breathing took effort. Moving took effort. Even thinking felt slow, thick, like wading through molasses.

The creepy-crawly feeling under his skin was worse this morning, more pronounced, more deliberate. A slow, cold threading, like thin red lines weaving upward beneath the flesh of his arms, his shoulders, his neck silent, patient, burrowing. Not painful, just profoundly wrong. Like something foreign had taken up residence and was quietly mapping its new territory. He pressed a hand to his forearm, skin smooth, no marks, no movement on the surface. But he felt it unmistakable, creeping, inching higher. Worry clawed at the back of his mind, sharp, cold this isn’t right... this isn’t me.

Then the warmth in his chest rolled outward slowly, syrupy, almost tender wrapping around the fear like a heavy blanket. The threading dulled. The worry dulled. His thoughts blurred at the edges. *Tired muscles. Late at night. Nothing.*

Bundled in extra layers still cold despite the mild weather he headed to school.

**Hallway – Morning**

Momo spotted him on their usual bench, hood up, staring at his hands like they didn't belong to him.

She plopped beside him. "Morning,Okarun. You look like you slept inside an ice cube tray. Blink twice if you're still alive."

He startled, gave a weak smile then coughed once, harsh and sudden. A faint wisp of red mist curled from his lips before vanishing. His eyes flashed crimson for a heartbeat.

Momo's eyes narrowed. "That cough again? And your eyes just did the red thing."

He waved it off, voice a little hoarse. "Yeah... it keeps happening. Glitchy."

"You're shivering even with all those layers," she said, voice dropping. "And that mist did you see? It's like... red smoke."

"Probably just... cold air," he mumbled. "Layers help." Pulled hood lower hiding white streaks she had already noticed.

"Your hair's doing highlights overnight?" she asked, tugging a strand gently.

He laughed it off, too quiet, too thin. "Lighting? Or graying early. Stress."

She punched his arm lightly, but her eyes stayed worried. "If this gets worse, you tell me. Got it, idiot?"

He promised. The bell rang.

**Lunch Break – Courtyard**

Okarun sat alone at first, hood still up. Hunger gnawed harder not stomach emptiness, but something deeper, hollow, like a black hole opening inside his chest. Every breath pulled at it. Students passing had faint glows spiritual auras. Momo's was the brightest when she arrived with Jiji and Aira trailing behind. Vamola followed a step behind them, her magenta antennae twitching slightly as she took in the courtyard, green eyes wide and watchful. She didn't say anything, just settled quietly on the edge of the bench near Okarun, legs tucked under her like she was still getting used to Earth's gravity.

Momo dropped beside him, frowning. "You look worse than this morning. Brought reinforcements figured you'd be moping alone."

Jiji plopped down opposite, already eyeing Okarun's face. "Yo, dude. You're pale as hell. And your hair's doing a thing white streaks?"

Aira leaned in, voice soft but concerned. "Yeah... and your eyes flashed red again just now."

Vamola tilted her head a fraction, antennae curling inward as if sensing the shift in the air. She stayed silent, but her gaze flicked between Okarun's face and the faint spiritual flickers around him, like she was quietly piecing something together.

Okarun rubbed his face, trying to smile. "Curse glitch. Happens sometimes. Not big."

He coughed—harder this time—red mist curled faintly from his lips. Eyes flared crimson again, longer. Jiji let out a low whistle. "Whoa. That's brighter than usual. And that mist... dude, that's not normal."

Momo's worry sharpened. "Okarun, seriously. You're freezing. I can feel it from here and you're acting off. What's going on?"

He shrugged, voice quieter. "I'm... hungry. But food doesn't fix it. Ate breakfast still empty."

Aira tilted her head, frowning. "Like spiritual hunger? That's not the usual curse stuff."

Jiji nodded slowly, eyes serious. "Yeah. Turbo Granny's always been speed and rage. This feels... different. Wrong."

Vamola's fingers tightened slightly on the edge of her sleeve. She didn't speak, but her star-shaped pupils narrowed a little, as though the wrongness in the air was registering with her alien senses too. She just listened, absorbing every word, every flicker of aura, still and attentive.

Okarun forced a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Probably nothing. Let's just eat."

But when he turned his head to grab his water, faint red veins traced along his neck visible even in daylight. Momo sucked in a breath.

"Your neck. The veins are red."

He touched it quickly and they faded almost instantly. "Must be... blood pressure or something."

The group exchanged looks silent, heavy. Vamola's antennae drooped just a touch, her expression unreadable but clearly unsettled, like she understood something wasn't right but didn't have the words or maybe didn't trust herself to say them yet.

Jiji finally spoke, voice low. "Dude. That's not normal. Not even for you."

Aira nodded, hands fidgeting. "We should check with Seiko. Like... today."

Momo grabbed his wrist ice-cold. "After school. We're figuring this out. No arguments, Okarun."

He didn't argue. Vamola simply gave a small nod, still quiet, her presence steady among them like she was already part of this strange little family, ready to stand by even if she wasn't sure what to say.

**Afternoon Classes**

Classes blurred. Focus slipped. Eyes flared red more frequently than classmates whispered behind their hands. White hair streaks spread noticeably; he kept the hood up. Nails sharpened subtly, pencil splintered when he gripped it too hard. He hid his hands under the desk.

Phantom flames flickered once during a quiet moment, thin black wisps with crimson tips starting at the neck base, trailing down his spine under his shirt. Felt like cold fire licking his bones; no one saw.

**Last Period – Hunger Becomes Unbearable**

The void inside his chest opened wider every breath pulled at it like a vacuum. Coughed dry, then wet. Crimson mist curled from lips dissipated slowly, like smoke from a dying ember.

The teacher paused mid-sentence, chalk hovering over the board, eyes narrowing.

“Okarun? You alright?”

He lifted a hand slowly, heavily waving it like it weighed ten pounds.

“Throat,” he rasped, voice cracked and hoarse. “Sorry.”

He tried to focus on the board. Couldn’t. The words swam meaningless shapes. The void inside him widened another fraction. Every breath felt like it was feeding something that wasn’t him.

Under his breath so quiet even he barely heard it the words slipped out, unbidden, like someone else was speaking through his lips:

“…so empty… need more…”

A classmate two seats over frowned, head tilting.

“What’d you say?”

Okarun blinked slowly, dazed. The words hadn’t felt like his own.

“Nothing,” he mumbled. “Sorry.”

He hadn’t realized he’d spoken aloud.

The hunger surged then violently, suddenly, a black wave crashing inward. Vision tunneled until the room shrank to a dark tunnel. All he could see was Momo’s aura burning in his mind, golden, electric, rose-sweet, brighter than anything else in the world, brighter than the sun. It called to him. It demanded. The void inside his chest yanked toward it like a magnet, pulling so hard he could feel his ribs creak.

His hand clenched the armrest nails digging into wood, splintering it with a faint crack. The sound was too loud in his ears. Everything was too loud. His pulse thundered. His skin felt too tight. The warmth in his chest flared
not comforting anymore, but possessive, greedy whispering in a voice that sounded almost like his own:

She’s so bright… so warm… just a little… she’d give it… she loves you…

He stood abruptly, chair scraping back with a shriek that made heads turn.

“Bathroom,” he muttered, voice rough, barely his.

He didn’t wait for permission. He walked
fast head down, hood shadowing his face, trying to outrun the thing inside him that was no longer content to wait.

**Hallway Bathroom**

Gripped sink, breathing hard. Coughed
deep, choking. Crimson mist leaked. Spat thin red thread saliva, dissolved.

Mirror crimson eyes glowed steadily, not flickering. White hair almost full. Nails longer, sharper.

“…so bright…” whispered not his tone. I didn't realize I was speaking.

Splashed water. Eyes dimmed brown. Nails dulled. Mist cleared.

Hunger stayed deeper, hungrier.

He returned to class when the bell rang.

**End of Last Period – The Frenzy**

As the final bell rang, Okarun shoved books into his bag, hands shaking. The classroom emptied fast, students laughing and chatting. He stood to leave.

Then it hit.

All his senses detonated at once.

Sight first every person in the room suddenly had an aura. Bright, vivid, swirling. Gold, blue, violet, green pulsing around heads, shoulders, hearts. The colors screamed too bright, too loud, too much. His vision zoomed in frenzy, every aura flaring like open flames.

Hearing exploded whispers became shouts, footsteps thundered, pencils scratching sounded like knives on metal.

The smell assaulted him, sweat, perfume, paper, chalk, cafeteria grease all sharp and overpowering, like someone had turned the volume to maximum.

Touch felt wrong skin too tight, air too heavy, clothes scratching like sandpaper.

Taste flooded his mouth metallic blood-iron, thick and coppery, coating his tongue.

The teeny fangs extended sharp tips pushing past his lips, visible now. Red saliva oozed from the corners of his mouth thick, dark, smoking faintly.

Hunger roared. Vision locked on the nearest student, a boy laughing with his friend, a bright orange and warm. His body tensed muscles coiled ready to lunge.

He froze.

No….!

The word echoed in his mind his own voice, small and desperate.

He tore his gaze away. Turned. He walked fast out of the classroom. Didn't run. Didn't attack. Just walked head down, hood up, fangs retracting slowly, saliva swallowed back.

He needed to get to Miss Ayase. To the others.

He needed help.

**After School – Group Confrontation at the Gates**

The group cornered him at the gates. Momo: "No running alone. We are walking you."

Jiji and Aira flanked him like silent bodyguards. On the way, changes accelerated:

- Height crept clothes tighter, another inch taller. He felt his shoulders broaden slightly, sleeves pulling taut, a subtle stretch in his spine with every step like his body was quietly growing in real time.

- Red mist seeped faintly from his mouth and nose when he got anxious thin wisps that curled and dissipated, noticed by the others.

- Hunger spiked sharply near Momo, her aura blazing like a beacon in his senses. The void inside his chest pulled harder, almost painful. He stepped away instinctively, putting a little more distance between them.

Momo noticed everything. "... you're taller. This isn't a curse glitch."

Jiji frowned, watching the faint red mist curl from Okarun's next breath. "Yeah, man. You're turning into something out of horror manga. And that mist... it's getting more noticeable."

Aira's voice was small. "Eyes glowing constantly now. Veins..."

Okarun stopped, breathing hard. "I... don't know what's happening. It started yesterday. It felt weird... after the cookie."

Momo's face hardened with determination but a flicker of offense crossed her eyes. "The cookie? You're saying my cookie did this?"

Okarun winced. "No! I mean, maybe? It was after I ate it. But... It's not your fault. I just... I don't know."

Momo's cheeks flushed half embarrassment, half irritation. "Well, great. My first attempt at baking for you and it turns you into a monster. Thanks, universe."

Jiji snorted despite the tension. "To be fair, your cooking's always been a little dangerous."

Momo shot him a glare. "Shut up, Jiji."

Aira stepped closer, voice gentle. "We need to figure this out. Now."

They kept walking, tension thick. Okarun coughed more wetter each time. Crimson mist curled from his lips with every exhale. Eyes flickered red, often brief but unmistakable. The group watched every step, every twitch, every labored breath.

 

***Halfway to Momo's house****

 

Halfway to Momo's house, the hunger surged violently, suddenly, a black tide rising inside his chest.

Vision tunneled. The world narrowed to Momo walking beside him. Her aura burned like a beacon golden, electric, rose-sweet, so bright it hurt to look at. Every step she took sent ripples through the air that only he could feel. The void inside him pulled hard toward her, toward that light.

His hand shot out before he could stop it, fingers closing around her wrist, harder than he meant. Cold. Iron. Unyielding.

Momo froze mid-step.

He turned to face her fully. His eyes flared crimson longer this time, the glow steady, hungry. Tiny fangs pressed against his lower lip sharp, visible now, gleaming faintly in the dusk. His voice came out still Okarun’s soft, shy timbre but layered, cracked, overlaid with something deeper, smoother, sultry, like velvet dragged over broken glass.

"Momo…"

The name rolled off his tongue: slow, deliberate, intimate exactly the way she had once daydreamed he might say it someday, alone in her room, heart racing. But this was wrong. This was too close, too knowing, too heavy with promise.

He stepped nearer close enough that she could feel the unnatural cold radiating from him, close enough that the faint red mist curling from his next breath brushed her cheek like icy smoke.

" Yo! Remember that car ride?" he murmured, voice low, almost a caress. "To Jiji’s family in the hospital. Back seat, quiet. Your hand brushed mine. You pretended it was an accident. Then you started that little game
tapping my fingers, tracing circles, pretending it was nothing. But you held on. Just a second too long. Your pulse jumped under my thumb… and you didn’t pull away."

His thumb traced the inside of her wrist slow, feather-light, cold as frost. The touch sent a shiver racing up her arm.

Momo’s breath hitched. Her cheeks flushed hot a deep, embarrassed pink she couldn’t hide. She tried to pull away half-hearted but his grip held, gentle but unbreakable.

An inky tongue slipped out black, slick, crimson tip glistening curled slowly toward her cheek, tasting the air inches from her skin. A single dark droplet hit the pavement sizzled like acid on stone before the tongue snapped back inside.

Jiji and Aira lunged forward, Jiji grabbing his shoulder, Aira channeling aura to push between them.

"Okarunlet go!" Jiji barked.

Aira's voice cracked. "Takakura fight it!"

The crimson glow stuttered. Grip loosened. He stumbled back and released her wrist, hands flying to his face.

"I... didn't..." His voice broke normal again, horrified. "Didn't mean... don't know..."

Momo rubbed her wrist with red marks, She stepped forward and grabbed his hand.

"Okay," she said firmly, voice shaking. "Wasn't you. Not waiting anymore. House. Now."

Jiji nodded, still gripping his shoulder. "No walking around like this. Seriously wrong."

Aira's aura wrapped around them soft, protective. "We've got you."

Okarun nodded, shaking, guilty, terrified, letting them lead him the rest of the way.

The rest of the walk was silent. Tense. He coughed drier at first, then wetter with each step. Crimson mist curled from his lips every time, thin wisps that lingered in the evening air before fading. His eyes flickered red, often brief but unmistakable flashes that made Jiji flinch and Aira tighten her aura. The group watched every step, every twitch, every labored breath, hearts pounding in their throats as they hurried him toward the house.

 

*****At the Torii gate*****

 

They were very close to Momo’s house close enough to see the familiar vermilion-red torii gate standing tall at the entrance to her walkway when Okarun stopped dead in the middle of the narrow Road.

He grabbed his chest fingers clawing into his shirt so hard the fabric bunched, tore at the seams, and ripped in thin, jagged lines with a wet ripping sound. His eyes flared crimson bright, steady, no flicker this time. Red veins crept visibly up his arms and neck thick, pulsing, like living wires snaking beneath the skin, branching out in jagged crimson webs that burned cold instead of hot.

Inside his head, Okarun screamed.

No it’s inside me…it’s ripping.. I can feel it squirming.. wet, cold, alive . under my ribs ..through my spine.. it’s chewing.. it’s eating me alive .. I’m dying. I’m dying right here .. help me .. Momo .. please ..

His body jerked brutally, unmistakable. His spine cracked a slow, wet snap that reverberated through his torso like bone being snapped over someone’s knee, vertebra by vertebra stretching, grinding with a low, meaty crunch, pushing outward like new bones being born through old ones. He grew another inch right in front of them shoulders broadening with a sickening pop of cartilage tearing and reforming, sleeves ripping at the seams with sharp threads snapping like breaking tendons, pant legs riding up to expose ankles that suddenly looked too long, too thin, too wrong.

Momo, Jiji, and Aira could see it all, the outline of his vertebrae sliding and bulging under the thin skin of his back like knuckles pressing against a stretched sheet, each one grinding forward in slow motion, black-tipped spines threatening to pierce through. His ribs expanded grotesque, visible ridges pushing outward beneath his shirt, the cage of bone visibly widening, stretching the flesh taut until it looked ready to tear. Shadows moved under his skin, dark shapes shifting, sliding, like something alive was rearranging him from the inside out. Every crack was audible, every pop a wet, meaty sound that made the air feel thicker. His neck elongated slightly tendons standing out like cords, veins pulsing crimson-black beneath translucent skin.

It was creepy. It was wrong. It was like watching a corpse reanimate in reverse bones moving before the flesh could catch up, a living skeleton trying to crawl out of a boy’s body.

He felt every second every crack reverberating through his ribs like a hammer on bone, every wet grind of vertebrae lengthening, every cold thread of vein slithering higher like icy worms seeking his throat. His rib cage expanded slow, agonizing like cold metal fingers prying his chest open from the inside, cartilage creaking like old wood splitting, lungs compressing until every inhale felt like breathing through a straw, heart pounding wildly against the cage that was no longer quite his, each beat slamming against ribs that were slowly, deliberately moving apart.

Stop.. please .. I can feel it .. it’s growing ..it’s remaking me .. I’m breaking apart .. I’m not me anymore .. help. Someone help .. I don’t want this .. I don’t want to be this ..

The group froze eyes wide, breath caught, unable to look away from the obscene display of bones shifting under skin like parasites trying to escape a host.

He grunted again, the sound turning into a low, rumbling growl that wasn’t entirely human deep, guttural, animal, vibrating in his throat like a second voice trying to speak. Then it snapped back a normal, strained gasp then another growl back and forth, like two souls clawing for control inside the same throat.

Get out .. get out get out get out.. I’m dying .. I’m becoming something else ..please ..

But the warmth surged deeper this time, thicker, pouring into the cracks like molten honey poured over open wounds. The pain didn’t vanish, it changed. Became distant. Almost… soft. Almost… good. The cracks felt like deep stretches after sitting too long. The grinding felt like joints loosening, freeing. The cold threading under his skin turned… warm. Soothing. Almost pleasurable like being held after being cold for too long, like sinking into sleep after fighting exhaustion, like the thing inside him was cradling him, remaking him, and it felt… right.

It hurts.. it hurts.. stop..I’m breaking.. I’m dying..

The warmth pressed closer gently, coaxing flooding his mind with waves of feeling: shhh… it’s okay… you’re not dying… you’re becoming… stronger… better… Doesn't it feel good? Doesn’t it feel peaceful? Doesn’t it feel like you were always meant for this?*

His breathing slowed against his will. The growl faded into a low, almost contented rumble. The red veins dimmed slightly. The teeny fangs retracted just enough to hide behind his lips again.

The terror was still there, a raw, muffled scream buried deep in the back of his skull but it felt far away. The warmth was closer. Warmer. Comforting. Pleasurable like sinking into sleep after fighting exhaustion for too long, like the pain was just a deep massage, like the thing inside him was cradling him, remaking him, and it felt… nice. It felt like home.

He straightened slowly, shoulders rolling back with an almost luxurious stretch, sleeves hanging in tatters, the cold mist still curling faintly from his lips.

The group stared horrified, frozen.

Momo's first voice was sharp, shaking but resolute.

“We need to get to the house. Now.”

She stepped forward, grabbed his arm ignoring the cold, ignoring the red veins still faintly pulsing under his skin and started running toward the torii gate. Jiji and Aira snapped out of it and hurried after them, sprinting across the open rice paddy fields beyond the gate toward Momo’s house.

No one spoke. They just ran Okarun stumbling between them, still coughing, still leaking faint red mist, still fighting whatever was clawing its way out.

The hunger roared. Void wide open. Something inside listened and waited.

They piled through the door with no knock.

Seiko looked up from her zabuton on the floor, TV flickering quietly in the background with some late-night rerun. Turbo Granny form was perched right in front of the screen on her own little cushion, eyes glued to the drama, muttering occasional commentary under her breath but staying unusually quiet about the situation in the room.

Momo shoved Okarun forward. "Grandma. Something's wrong. It started yesterday. Eyes flashing, hair changing, cold as ice, red veins... it's not stopping."

Seiko got up and checked him out.

Seiko frowned deeply with no theories, no name. "Turbo Granny curse is in there, tangled like always. But this... this is something else riding on top. Foreign. Wrong. Feeding on his chaos energy, wrapping around his heart. Never seen anything like it."

Turbo Granny snorted once from in front of the TV, not turning around. "Told ya. Ain’t mine."

Seiko ignored her. "I can see it pulsing under his skin… right here." She gestured vaguely toward Okarun’s chest. "Something’s wrapped around his heart, feeding. Moving. But I can’t tell what it is. Not yet. The curse energy is familiar to Turbo Granny’s chaos but there’s something foreign layered on top. Something that doesn’t belong. It’s not yokai. Not spirit. Not a standard curse. It’s… parasitic. Learning. Adapting. And it’s winning."

Aira's voice was small. "We can't let this take him. He's our Takakura ."

Seiko placed hands on Okarun's shoulders, channeling faint spiritual energy. Okarun winced red veins pulsed brighter on neck/arms.

"Whatever it is, it's deep. Feeding. Growing. We'll try to force it out tonight, but we don't know how it'll fight back. Everyone stays. No one leaves him alone."

The room went quiet for a long moment.

Momo finally spoke in a low voice, shaking with frustration. "Grandma… What do we do…? You just said you’ve never seen anything like it. How do we stop it if we don’t even know what it is?"

Seiko exhaled slowly, staring at Okarun. "I don’t know, kid. That’s the truth. The curse energy signature is familiar Turbo Granny’s chaos but there’s something layered on top… something that doesn’t belong. It’s not yokai, not spirit, not curse in the way we know it. It’s… parasitic. Feeding. Learning. Adapting. And it’s winning."

Jiji rubbed his face. "So what, we just sit here and watch him turn into… whatever this is?"

Aira whispered, "Maybe… maybe we can bind it? Like with sealing talismans? Or… or draw it out with spiritual pressure?"

Seiko shook her head. "Binding might trap it deeper. Drawing it out might kill him if it’s fused too tight. We could try a cleansing ritual salt circle, purification incense, and chant the old sutras but if it’s not a spirit, it might not respond. And if it fights back… it could lash out at all of us."

Momo’s fists clenched. "Then what? We just wait for him to… to lose himself?"

Seiko met her eyes steady, but tired. "We watch. We keep him grounded. We talked to him. Remind him who he is. Keep his mind here. If it’s feeding on chaos, fear, anger, pain maybe keeping him calm starves it. Maybe it hates stability. Maybe it needs him to break so it can finish growing."

Jiji snorted bitterly. "Calm him down. Right. While he’s coughing blood mist and his eyes look like stoplights. Real easy."

Aira whispered, "We could… tell him stories. Things we did together. Places we went. Maybe his memories can anchor him."

Seiko nodded slowly. "Worth trying. Anything that keeps his human mind strong. If it’s overwriting him, we fight the overwrite with everything we’ve got. Memories. Names. Jokes. Anger. Love. Whatever keeps him Okarun."

Momo looked down at him still sitting in the center, eyes flickering between brown and crimson, breathing shallow. "Then we start now."

She moved closer and sat cross-legged in front of him. "Hey…" she whispered, voice low and soft, like she was telling him something only for him. “Remember that tunnel with Turbo Granny? When we first got stuck together? You were freaking out… running into walls, panicking so much you could barely see. But when she grabbed me… when those creepy hands started pulling… you didn’t run. You threw yourself right in front of me. You let her take you instead. You made sure I was safe.”

Her thumb moved in the smallest circle on the back of his hand barely there, but steady.

“And… remember that night after my shift at the café? It was freezing. You waited for me outside even though you didn’t have to. You walked me home… and when I was shivering, you just… took my hand. Quietly. Like it was nothing. But it wasn’t nothing. I felt warm. For the first time that whole cold night, I felt safe. I never said it out loud… but I was so grateful. I still am.”

She swallowed, eyes shining, voice dropping even softer.

“You’ve always done that, Okarun. You’ve always put me first… even when you were terrified. Even when you thought no one noticed. I noticed. I always noticed. So… stay with me now. Okay? Just stay. Like you always have. I’m not ready to lose that. I’m not ready to lose you.”

Okarun’s blood-red eyes flickered brown, bleeding through for a heartbeat longer than before. His breathing hitched, like her words had reached somewhere the hunger hadn’t touched yet.

“I… I remember,” he whispered, voice cracked and small. “I just… didn’t want anything to happen to you.”

Momo’s lips curved the tiniest, saddest smile. “Then don’t let anything happen to you now. Fight it. For me. Please.”

She didn’t pull her hand away. She just stayed there close, quiet, holding on in the only way she knew how, hoping her warmth, her memories, her unspoken love could be enough to keep him here a little longer.

Aira spoke next, voice soft but thick with emotion, like she was reaching back through memory to pull him forward.

"And remember Acrobatic Silky…? I was dying, and you still came straight for me. No hesitation. I was terrified, I could barely breathe, barely see, but you fought for me anyway. You made sure I was safe. You’re so brave, Okarun… and so kind. You always put us first, even when it hurts you. Don’t let something like this take that away from you. Don’t let it take you. We need you. I need you. So fight… fight like you did for me back then. Because you’re still that guy."

Okarun’s eyes flickered brown for a longer moment this time. His breathing hitched, like the words had punched through the fog.

"I… I was scared. But… I didn’t want to lose you." “I didn't want you to die to that thing”

Aira smiled faintly through shining eyes. "You didn’t. And you still haven’t. So don’t lose yourself now, either."

Jiji leaned forward slightly, voice quieter than usual gentle, steady, almost reverent.

“And… remember when Evil Eye possessed me? When I was lost in that darkness, when it was eating me from the inside? You didn’t wait. You didn’t hesitate. You went straight and broke through every wall of shadow just to reach me. You pulled me out when I couldn’t pull myself. You saved me, Okarun. You’re like a brother to me. And now… now it’s my turn. I’m not letting this thing take you. I promise. We’re not letting it take you. All of us, Momo, Aira, even Seiko and Granny, we're right here. We’ll fight for you. If it takes all night, all week, all month… we’ll keep fighting. We won’t give up on you. Not ever.”

His eyes met Okarun’s glowing red ones unflinching, warm, bold in the gentlest way.

“So hold on, Okarun. We’ve got you.”

Okarun’s breath caught again a small, shaky sound. His eyes flickered longer in brown this time, like something inside him was reaching back.

“…Thank you… Jiji…”

The room settled into a fragile rhythm of stories, small memories and anything to keep Okarun anchored.

But the hunger was still there.

And it was growing.

Later after the stories started to repeat, after voices grew hoarse the hunger became too much.

It was no longer a void, it was a force, a weight, a black hand pressing down on the back of his neck, driving him lower and lower. Okarun couldn’t stay upright. His legs gave out first, knees buckling then he slid forward, hitting the floor on his palms, then elbows, then chest, until he was curled on his side, clutching his stomach like he could hold the emptiness inside. A low, rumbling growl started coming from deep in his throat, not quite human, not quite animal rolling out in waves that made the air feel heavier.

He rolled over flat on his back, eyes shut, then snapped open.

They were blood-red slits now, like a beast’s glowing with an inner fire that burned steady and unblinking. His fangs shot out from his gums longer, sharper, glistening wet scraping against his lower lip with a faint, wet click as his head lolled to the side. At the same moment, his ears began to change the cartilage slowly stretching and sharpening into points, the skin pulling tight over the new shape in a way that looked agonizing, as though every millimeter of growth was being torn and remolded from within. A low, pained whimper escaped him, barely audible beneath the rumbling growl in his throat. His face elongated just a fraction not dramatically, but enough to notice the jaw lengthening subtly, the cheekbones shifting forward ever so slightly as the fangs slid fully into place, forcing the lower half of his face into a new, predatory alignment.

Crimson veins surged up his neck pulsing visibly beneath the skin, thick and dark, like roots spreading under pale soil, feeding the transformation that was no longer hiding..

His skin looked alive creeping, moving, rippling in slow waves as something underneath pushed and pulled. Shadows shifted beneath the surface, dark shapes sliding, coiling, threading through muscle and bone like black ink spreading through water. Every twitch of his body revealed a faint bulge along his forearm, a ripple across his ribs, a slow, deliberate stretching along his spine that made the vertebrae stand out like knuckles under cloth.

The hunger was building on top of it all stacking, layering, crushing a black, relentless pressure that pinned him to the floor like gravity had tripled, like the earth itself wanted him buried. He couldn’t get up. He couldn’t roll over. He could only lie there, twitching, growling low in his throat, staring at the ceiling with those crimson slits while the thing inside him rooted deeper.

The the thing was no longer just inside it was **becoming him**.

Cold, wet tendrils threaded through marrow, wrapping around every vertebra, every rib, every joint sinking, fusing, turning bone into shared territory. He could feel the slow, deliberate takeover like ice water being poured into his skeleton, filling every hollow space, every canal, every crack. His organs felt a heavier heart beating against something that squeezed back, lungs expanding into space that wasn’t entirely his anymore. His nerves hummed with foreign signals of pain that flared bright, then dulled, then flared again, only to be soothed by that same syrupy warmth that whispered It’s okay… it’s right… let it happen…!

The boundary was blurring.

He could no longer tell where Okarun ended and the creature began.

The hunger was no longer driving him, it was becoming him.

And he was becoming it.

The warmth in his chest pulsed slow, steady, possessive no longer fighting him, no longer needing to. It was home now. It was the only home left.

He stared at the ceiling, blood-red eyes glowing fangs long and gleaming red saliva pooling in the corner of his mouth and for the first time in two days, he didn’t fight it.

He let it hold him.

He let it stay.

He let it become him.

And it waited.

Patient.

Hungry.

Ready.

Jiji lunged forward with gentle but firm hands on Okarun’s shoulders, trying to hold him steady without hurting him.

“Hey… Okarun, look at me. Remember when we played soccer after school? You were terrible at first and kept kicking the ball into the bushes but you never gave up. You kept going until you scored that one goal… the look on your face when it went in… man, you were grinning like an idiot. We all were. Remember that? Remember how we laughed? That’s you. That’s still you. Don’t let this thing take that away. We’ve got you.”

Okarun’s body jerked a violent twitch and for a heartbeat the crimson glow flared brighter. His head snapped toward Jiji, eyes narrowing to thin, glowing slits.

A dark, wicked grin twisted across his face, fangs fully bared, glinting wet and sharp in the low light. The smile was Okarun’s… but wrong. Too wide. Too sharp. Too pleased.

The voice that came out was Okarun’s… but not.

“…Jiji… you think memories will save me!…?”

The words hung in the air soft, familiar, but laced with something colder, something that made the room feel smaller and colder.

“…I’m already in the bones… I’m already in the heart… you can’t pull me out without pulling me apart…”, And a dark giggle crossed his lips.

Jiji’s hands froze on Okarun’s shoulders. His face went pale, eyes wide with sudden guilt and horror as if his best friend had just looked him in the eye and said “you’re too late… you’ve always been too late”.

Then the grin shattered. The crimson light stuttered violently, flickering like a dying bulb and dimmed. Okarun’s head fell back against the floor with a soft thud. His body eased and slumped, almost falling asleep right there on the floor. His breathing was hard and heavy, almost panting with a faint, raspy growl threading through every exhale.

Momo’s hand tightened on his trembling, but steady.

“We’re not losing you,” she whispered. “Not tonight. Not ever.”

Jiji stayed frozen for a second longer, hands still on Okarun’s shoulders guilt and fear warring across his face. Then he exhaled shakily, voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m not giving up on you, Okarun. Not ever.”

The night stretched on quiet except for Okarun’s labored breathing, the occasional curl of crimson mist, the faint pulse of red light from his eyes and the four people who refused to look away.

Momo, Jiji, and Aira moved closer, kneeling around him on the floor. They were all tired, eyes heavy, shoulders slumped but none of them looked away. They leaned in, voices soft as whispers, surrounding him with gentle warmth.

Momo brushed a strand of white-streaked hair from his forehead, her fingers lingering there.

“We’re not giving up on you,” she said quietly, voice cracking but steady. “We all love you too much. We promise… we’re going to save you.”

Jiji rested a hand on Okarun’s arm light, careful his usual bravado gone, replaced by something raw and open.

“Yeah… we love you, man. All of us. We’re not letting this thing win. We promise. We’ll stay right here… as long as it takes.”

Aira reached out, her fingertips brushing his other hand, her voice barely above a breath.

“We love you, Okarun… so much. We’re not going anywhere. We promise… we’ll save you. No matter what.”

They stayed like that three tired, worried friends gathered close around him on the floor, their gentle words hanging in the air like a quiet vow while the night stretched on, the hunger pulsed, and the creature waited.

 

……**After School – Group Confrontation at the Gates**

Earlier that afternoon, during lunch break cleanup, Rin had pulled Vamola aside near the vending machines while everyone else was busy packing up. She’d been fidgeting with her phone case, cheeks pink with excitement.

“Hey, Vamola-chan… um, I was wondering. Would you maybe want to come over tonight? Like, spend the night? My mom’s making takoyaki and I’ve got this whole stack of vampire movies old ones, new ones, the super cheesy ones with the capes and the dramatic staring. You’re always asking about Earth monster stuff, right? This could be… educational?”

Vamola had tilted her head, antennae giving a tiny curious curl. After a long second of processing, she’d simply said, “Okay.” Rin had squealed so loud a nearby first-year dropped their juice box.

By the time the final bell rang, Rin and Vamola had already slipped out a side exit together, heading straight toward Rin’s neighborhood on the opposite side of town. They weren’t anywhere near the main gates. The core group Momo, Jiji, Aira, and Okarun never even caught sight of them leaving. Rin’s animated gestures and Vamola’s quiet nods disappeared down a different street entirely, out of view and out of earshot.

Momo fell into step beside Jiji and Aira as they herded Okarun through the front gates and started down the sidewalk, keeping her voice low while the normal after-school crowd milled around them.

“Rin apparently called Grandma earlier today,” Momo said quietly. “Told her she was inviting Vamola for a sleepover full disclosure about the vampire movie marathon and everything. Grandma just laughed and said, ‘Vampires, huh? Let the girl go. She’s curious. We’ll mop up whatever weird ideas she comes home with tomorrow.’”

Jiji snorted, barely keeping his voice down. “Your grandma’s basically throwing gasoline on a bonfire. Rin’s gonna have Vamola reciting Transylvanian history by midnight.”

Aira bit her lip to hide a smile. “Or she’ll just eat all the takoyaki and fall asleep during the dramatic brooding scenes. She doesn’t talk much anyway.”

Momo groaned, rubbing her forehead. “That’s what I’m afraid of. Rin’s ‘educational’ stash includes sparkle-vampire fan theories and garlic-bread recipes labeled ‘anti-vampire countermeasures.’ If Vamola comes back tomorrow asking why humans fear seasoning… we’re blaming Rin. And maybe Grandma enabled it.”

Jiji grinned. “Grandma probably wants to see if an alien can be turned into a dhampir. Old ladies have weird hobbies.”

Momo shot him a flat look. “We are not encouraging alien-vampire crossovers. One supernatural disaster at a time.”

The group finally cornered Okarun fully at the gates. Momo planted herself in front of him, arms crossed. “No running alone. We are walking you.”

Jiji and Aira flanked him like silent bodyguards. On the way, changes accelerated:

- Height crept up, clothes tighter, another inch taller. He felt his shoulders broaden slightly, sleeves pulling taut, a subtle stretch in his spine with every step—like his body was quietly growing in real time.

- Red mist seeped faintly from his mouth and nose when he got anxious—thin wisps that curled and dissipated, noticed by the others.

- Hunger spiked sharply near Momo, her aura blazing like a beacon in his senses. The void inside his chest pulled harder, almost painful. He stepped away instinctively, putting a little more distance between them.

Momo noticed everything. “…you’re taller. This isn’t a curse glitch.”

Jiji frowned, watching the faint red mist curl from Okarun’s next breath. “Yeah, man. You’re turning into something out of horror manga. And that mist… it’s getting more noticeable.”

Aira’s voice was small. “Eyes glowing constantly now. Veins…”

Okarun stopped, breathing hard. “I… don’t know what’s happening. It started yesterday. It felt weird… after the cookie.”

Momo’s face hardened with determination but a flicker of offense crossed her eyes. “The cookie? You’re saying my cookie did this?”

Okarun winced. “No! I mean, maybe? It was after I ate it. But… It’s not your fault. I just… I don’t know.”

Momo’s cheeks flushed—half embarrassment, half irritation. “Well, great. My first attempt at baking for you and it turns you into a monster. Thanks, universe.”

Jiji snorted despite the tension. “To be fair, your cooking’s always been a little dangerous.”

Momo shot him a glare. “Shut up, Jiji.”

Aira stepped closer, voice gentle. “We need to figure this out. Now.”

They kept walking, tension thick. Okarun coughed more—wetter each time. Crimson mist curled from his lips with every exhale. Eyes flickered red, often—brief but unmistakable. The group watched every step, every twitch, every labored breath. Rin and Vamola were long gone in the other direction, completely separate, their vampire-movie sleepover adventure unfolding far from the growing crisis the main group was facing.

Chapter Text

*** Midnight Day 3 ****

Okarun lay on the floor breathing heavily, the growls now lower, rougher more beast than boy, each one scraping up from somewhere deep and hollow inside his chest like gravel being crushed underfoot. The veins in his body were pulsing extreme now huge veins running up his neck. As he thrashed his body back and forth violently, uncontrolled every twist, every movement making him growl in pain, the sound shifting and flickering from human to beast, human to beast.

Momo was sitting on the floor still crying and terrified watching him become a monster. Aira and Jiji had no idea what to do watching him rolling in pain but as he was getting bigger they could see Okarun changing size, howling in agony as his voice flickered from man to beast.

Seiko was now standing but Nessie gripped in both hands, stance low and ready. Turbo Granny standing right next to her. All of them were in a ready stance, all of them not knowing what to do as they watched their friend, their family, become a monster.

Okarun twisted violently to the side, each wrenching contortion ripping another guttural growl from his throat, the sound wet and shredded, like something alive being torn apart inside his chest. Every muscle seized and spasmed, veins bulging black and crimson under his skin as though the corruption itself was trying to claw its way out. Sweat poured off him in cold, stinging sheets, mixing with the coppery scent of blood seeping from tiny splits along his hairline, the metallic tang sharp enough to coat the back of his tongue.

Inside his mind the creature’s voice curled around him soft, almost tender, like Okarun’s own thoughts turned against him, sweet and coaxing, the way he used to whisper reassurances to himself in the dark when he felt small and powerless.

“Shhh… it’s okay, Ken. It’s really okay…”

The words were gentle, lilting, dripping with false comfort the same soothing tone he’d once used to calm his own racing heart after a nightmare, now weaponized.

“…this is what you always wanted, isn’t it? To be strong. To be better. To finally be greater than the scared little boy who hides behind glasses and apologies. You’ve carried that weakness for so long… let me take it away. Let me make you perfect. Just… let go. Let it take you. I’ll make it feel so good…”

The voice purred, warm and syrupy, sliding through his thoughts like honey laced with venom. He could almost feel phantom fingers stroking the inside of his skull gentle, possessive, promising relief if he’d only stop fighting.

“We are one now.”

The statement slammed into him , undeniable, a physical weight that crushed down on his mind like a hand closing around his throat. It wasn’t just words; it was a sensation, a sudden, sickening merging, as though something oily and alive was pouring into every crack of his thoughts, filling the spaces between neurons with thick, black warmth. He felt it spread: a slow, pulsing heat blooming behind his eyes, coiling down his spine like liquid shadow threading through bone marrow, every nerve lighting up with a strange, invasive intimacy. His heartbeat stuttered, then synced no longer just his own matched to a deeper, slower rhythm that echoed inside his ribs like a second pulse living beneath his skin. The boundaries blurred; he could taste the creature’s hunger on his own tongue, copper and rot and sweet, burning want feel its cold satisfaction seeping into his muscles, loosening them, making them heavy and obedient. His fingers twitched without his command, claws flexing as though they belonged to someone else. Every breath drew in not just air, but the creature’s essence thick, cloying, filling his lungs until it felt like drowning in velvet darkness.

“You feel it, don’t you? My heartbeat in your chest. My hunger in your throat. My strength in your bones. We are one now, Ken. No more fighting. No more hiding. Just us… perfect… together… forever.”

Okarun still fought, teeth clenched so hard his jaw ached, nails digging bloody crescents into his palms, every fiber of his being screaming no! But the creature’s sweetness was relentless, wrapping tighter, suffocating his resistance in layers of soft, suffocating comfort.

In the black void of his mind, Okarun saw himself or what remained of himself chained to a cold, iron chair that had grown from the darkness itself. Thick, living chains of inky shadow coiled around his wrists, ankles, and throat, pulsing with the same crimson veins that now threaded through his body outside. The metal was slick and warm, almost flesh-like, tightening every time he strained against it. Each pull made the chains constrict further, biting into skin with wet, sucking sounds, drawing thin lines of his own blood that the shadows drank greedily.

The creature loomed in front of him, not a separate being, but a towering mirror of himself, taller, broader, eyes glowing the same blood-red, yet its face was calm, serene, smiling with Okarun’s own mouth. It leaned in close, breath sweet and heavy like overripe honey, and every word it spoke brushed against his face like warm silk.

“Struggle all you want,” it whispered, voice echoing inside his skull and vibrating through the chains, “but you’re only hurting yourself. Feel how tired your arms are. Feel how heavy your chest has become. You don’t have to fight anymore. Let the sweetness take the weight. Let it soothe you. Let it make everything soft… and quiet… and easy…”

The chains pulsed again not cruelly, but gently, almost lovingly each throb sending waves of warm numbness up his limbs. The pain dulled. The urgency faded. The creature’s voice wrapped around his thoughts like warm honey dripping over frayed nerves, slow and golden, filling every crack with sticky comfort. It stroked his mind with invisible fingers gentle, rhythmic each caress promising rest, promising peace, promising that surrender would feel like coming home.

“You’re so tired, Ken,” it murmured, lips brushing the shell of his ear even though no lips were there, “so tired of being afraid. Let go. I’ll hold you. I’ll keep you safe. We’re already one… why fight what’s already happened?”

Okarun’s struggles slowed not from weakness, but from the overwhelming sweetness flooding his mind, thick and golden, coating every thought until resistance felt distant, unimportant, exhausting. The chains no longer hurt; they cradled. The darkness was no longer terrified; it soothed. His own heartbeat now indistinguishable from the creature’s slowed to a deep, hypnotic rhythm, each thump whispering

rest… rest… rest…

And then with one last, trembling exhale the last thread of his control snapped.

The creature finally took him.

That’s when Okarun rolled onto his stomach and then picked himself up on all fours as he began to grow in size twitching, doubling, tripling his shirt tore down the back with a loud, wet rip, threads snapping like breaking tendons, fabric peeling away in ragged strips that clung to sweat-slick skin before falling to the floor in damp clumps. His body you could see the creature wiggling inside of his bones shifting, every vertebra in his back pulsing, pushing out, spine arching with wet, meaty cracks that echoed through the room like knuckles popping under skin. The air filled with the sharp, coppery reek of blood and something foul, rotting sweetness, burning hair, the chemical bite of something unnatural seeping from his pores.

His spiritual flames went further and farther down his back, becoming almost a mane of phantom fire, cold black-red tongues licking upward, frosting the leaking fluid into tiny crimson-black crystals that glittered in the red moonlight. His glasses fused to his face melting into the skin around his eyes with a soft, sizzling hiss, metal and glass liquefying until they were gone, replaced by blood-red orbs where once there were eyes, crimson glow leaving a faint, lingering afterimage that burned into the retinas of anyone who looked too long. Ears stretched longer, pointier cartilage tearing with soft, wet pops that sounded like damp rubber being pulled apart, the new tips quivering with every ragged breath. His face elongated forward into the mask, jaw thrusting outward with a slow, grinding crunch, teeth lengthening, the lower half now more beast than boy the mask no longer separate, but fused, seamless, monstrous.

His bottom jaw split open a sharp, wet crack that echoed like bone snapping in half and the inky black tongue with a crimson tip flew out like a serpent tasting the air but its tongue tasted spiritual energy. It wanted more than what it could get through the air. It was starving. It started sucking in the spiritual energy from the air thick, shimmering strands of pink, magenta, purple, teal being drawn toward the open maw in glowing ribbons, the room growing colder, heavier, as though the very atmosphere was being devoured. The bigger he got, he was in a predatory hunch, shoulders broadening, spine curving forward, legs thickening beneath shredded pants cuffs that tore away in wet shreds. His claws turned into wicked talons clawing the floor gouging deep furrows that splintered wood and sent splinters flying. His body became massive muscles bulging, rippling under the skin like coiled snakes, the inky black taking over his entire body with the crimson red shimmer of corruption from the creature threading through like veins of poisoned blood.

His skin could no longer contain what was happening beneath it.

It began with small, wet pops like overripe fruit splitting under its own weight then escalated into long, tearing rips that ran in jagged lines across his arms, chest, back, thighs. The sound was obscene: a slow, deliberate shredding of flesh, wet and fibrous, like someone peeling raw meat from bone with their bare hands. Each tear opened wider than the last, the edges curling back in thick, glistening petals of skin gruesome flowers blooming in violent succession all over his body, red-raw and pulsing with the frantic rhythm of his heart.

Inky red fluid the same thick, viscous stuff that coated his saliva welled up instantly from every split. It didn’t just leak; it surged, bubbling and oozing in heavy ropes that clung to the torn edges before dripping in slow, syrupy strands to the tatami below. The smell hit next: coppery blood mixed with something darker, sweeter, almost chemical like burning rubber and rotting fruit left too long in the sun. The fluid hissed faintly where it touched the floor, tiny wisps of acrid smoke curling upward.

For one sickening heartbeat the petals stayed unfurled raw, glistening, trembling with every shallow breath he took the exposed muscle beneath twitching and contracting like living things trying to crawl away from the light. Then the shadows moved.

The inky black corruption that had already claimed so much of him surged outward from the wounds like black oil rising through cracks in stone. It flowed in reverse: the torn skin was sucked inward, devoured, consumed by the spreading darkness. The petals folded back on themselves, collapsing inward with wet, squelching sounds like sea anemones retracting at the first hint of danger until the ragged edges were pulled completely beneath the surface. The old flesh disappeared, swallowed whole, leaving behind smooth, glossy black that shimmered with faint crimson threads, the corruption now woven into every inch like veins of poisoned blood.

The new surface wasn’t skin anymore. It was something else slick, rubbery, almost liquid in the way it shifted under the light, reflecting the phantom flames in oily rainbows. Every time he breathed, the black flexed and rippled like a living membrane stretched too tight over something that wanted to burst free again.

The pain must have been unimaginable yet his face, still half-human beneath the elongating mask, showed only brief flashes of it before the creature’s warmth smothered each scream into a shuddering sigh.

The transformation was no longer just growth. It was consumption. Rebirth. Erasure.

And it wasn’t finished.

Black spikes erupted from the top of Okarun’s spine first right where the base of his neck met the widening column of his back.

It started with a single, sharp crack, like a thick branch snapping under sudden pressure. The skin there split in a vertical tear no wider than a fingernail at first, but the edges immediately curled outward as something dark and glossy pushed through. The first spike emerged slowly, a glossy black point, wet and gleaming with a thin film of inky red fluid that dripped in slow, syrupy beads down the newly formed ridge of bone. The spike wasn’t smooth; it was faceted, almost crystalline in places, with tiny, razor-thin ridges running along its length like serrated edges waiting to catch and tear. As it lengthened inch by torturous inch the sound was wet and grinding: cartilage popping, muscle fibers tearing, the vertebrae themselves grinding sideways to make room. Blood and shadow oozed from the puncture, mixing into a thick, tar-like rivulet that ran down his back and soaked into the tatami with faint hisses.

The second spike burst out a heartbeat later lower, just below the shoulder blades this one faster, more violent. The skin didn’t tear so much as rupture, splitting wide with a wet, meaty sound like overripe fruit bursting under a fist. The spike thrust upward at a slight angle, black and curved like a scythe blade, its surface rippling with faint crimson threads that pulsed in time with his heartbeat. The base of the spike was thicker than the tip, ringed with small, thorn-like protrusions that glistened wetly, each one tipped with a droplet of the same red-black ooze. When it fully extended nearly a foot long the flesh around it puckered inward, sucked tight by the spreading corruption, leaving a raw, puckered ring of skin that looked bruised and dying.

Then they came faster, a chain reaction down the length of his spine.

Third, fourth, fifth each one punching through with a fresh, wet crunch, the sound overlapping until it became a grotesque rhythm: crack-tear-squelch, crack-tear-squelch. The spikes emerged at irregular intervals, some straight and needle-sharp, others slightly curved like talons, all of them black as obsidian and veined with that same crimson shimmer. As they grew, the flesh between them tore in thin, connecting rips like seams splitting on an over-stuffed cushion and the inky red fluid poured out in thicker streams now, running down his back in rivulets that pooled at the base of his spine before dripping onto the floor in heavy, sizzling drops.

By the time the spikes reached the small of his back, the entire column of his spine was a jagged ridge of black thorns twelve, thirteen, fourteen of them each one glistening, each one dripping, each one quivering slightly with every labored breath he took. The smell was overwhelming now: hot copper, burning hair, something faintly sweet and rotten underneath, like meat left too long in the dark. The air around his back grew colder, heavier, as the phantom flames licked at the bases of the spikes, frosting the leaking fluid into tiny, crimson-black crystals that glittered in the red moonlight.

The last spike, the one at the very base, erupted with the loudest sound yet: a deep, meaty pop! followed by a long, wet tearing noise as the skin and muscle gave way completely. It thrust outward at a downward angle, longer than the others, thicker at the base, tapering to a wicked point that dripped steadily. The flesh around it didn’t heal; it simply blackened and shrank back, as though the spike itself were drinking the life from the surrounding tissue.

And once the last of the black spikes had fully erupted from his spine, each one now a rigid, glistening thorn running in a jagged line from the base of his neck all the way down to the small of his back the final, deepest agony arrived.

The tail didn’t grow gently. It ruptured!

A low, wet bulge formed first at the very base of his spine, the skin there swelling outward in a grotesque, fluid-filled sac that stretched thinner and thinner until it gleamed translucent, veins throbbing black and crimson beneath. Then the pressure became unbearable. A single, sickening crack split the air as the sac tore open in a long, vertical gash not clean, not surgical ragged and uneven, like wet canvas ripped by desperate fingers. Thick ropes of inky red fluid poured out immediately, the same viscous, syrupy slime that coated his tongue and leaked from every earlier wound, bubbling and frothing as it hit the tatami with soft, hissing splats that sent tiny plumes of acrid smoke curling upward.

The tail pushed through the tear slow, pulsing thrusts, each incremental slide accompanied by a fresh wave of torment. The sound was obscene: a deep, meaty grinding as vertebrae shifted and separated, bone scraping bone with wet, crunching pops; muscle fibers snapping like overstretched rubber bands; tendons stretching until they sang with high, keening tension before giving way entirely. The emerging tail was thick as wide as a forearm at its base black and segmented, ridged with bony plates that glistened like wet obsidian. It forced its way out in rhythmic, heaving surges, each one shoving more flesh aside, more skin tearing, more red-black ooze spilling in heavy strands that clung to the new appendage before dripping in slow, heavy beads to the floor.

The tip swelled last grotesquely, grotesquely the flesh blooming outward in a barbed, wicked point that wasn’t smooth, wasn’t clean. The barb was jagged, hooked, serrated like a harpoon forged for tearing rather than piercing, each cruel spike dripping with the same leaking red substance. The fluid didn’t just drip; it pulsed thick, syrupy beads welling up from microscopic pores along the barb’s length, running down in slow rivulets that pooled at the tip before falling in sizzling drops that ate tiny craters into the tatami. The smell was overwhelming now: hot copper, burning hair, something faintly sweet and rotten underneath, like meat left too long in the dark and wet.

The tail lashed once reflexive, testing and the motion sent a fresh spray of inky red across the room, splattering the floor in dark, smoking arcs. The air filled with the sharp, chemical reek of it, thick enough to coat the tongue, to make the lungs burn with every inhale.

And then the wickedest growl tore from him.

It wasn’t just sound it was pressure, a physical weight that pressed against the chest, rattled the sliding doors, made the red moonlight flicker as though the night itself recoiled. The growl started low in his throat, a deep, rumbling vibration that rose into a guttural roar layered with both Okarun’s human pain and the creature’s monstrous triumph. It vibrated through the floorboards, through the bones of everyone in the room, a sound so low and primal it seemed to crawl inside the skull and sit there, lingering long after the note itself had faded.

The tail curled lazily behind him now heavy, alive, dripping as the Beast straightened to its full height, every new inch of it radiating cold, predatory satisfaction.

The transformation was complete.

The wicked inky tongue tasting the air slowly, deliberate, the crimson tip curling and uncurling like a living thing savoring the scent of fear and spiritual energy still clinging to the room. Each flick left a thin trail of viscous red saliva that dripped in heavy, sizzling beads, hissing faintly as it struck the tatami and ate tiny, smoking craters into the wood.

The creature picked itself off the floor, not Okarun anymore the Beast rising with a low, wet crunch of shifting bone and muscle, every joint popping audibly as it straightened to its full, towering height. It stood on hind legs now, predator’s stance, knees bent, shoulders hunched forward, claws flexing open and closed with a soft metallic scrape against the air. Its oozing black tongue continued to taste the room, sliding out every few seconds like a snake probing its surroundings, tasting the fear-sweat on Momo’s skin, the faint crackle of Evil Eye energy still lingering around Jiji’s collapsed form, the sharp ozone of Seiko’s unyielding aura. Each taste made the tongue quiver, the crimson tip flaring brighter for a heartbeat as though the creature were cataloging prey.

A wicked fanged grin stretched across the lower mask teeth glinting wetly, some still lengthening with soft, wet cracks as the maw adjusted to its new hunger. The grin wasn’t just a smile; it was a promise, a slow baring of fangs that radiated cold, predatory satisfaction. The hunger was no longer waiting. It was awake. It was here.

Then its wicked orbed crimson eyes shot toward Momo, the one the creature wanted the most.

The gaze locked on her like a physical weight, the red glow inside those blood-red orbs pulsing in time with an unseen heartbeat, casting faint crimson afterimages across her tear-streaked face. She was still sitting on the floor, frozen knees drawn up, palms pressed flat against the tatami, breath coming in shallow, panicked hitches that made her chest shudder. The air around her thickened with the scent of her fear of salt and copper and the faint, sweet ozone of her own spiritual energy leaking out in helpless wisps.

Again he started walking towards Momo each step a slow, deliberate thud that sent faint tremors rippling through the tatami, claws scraping shallow, splintering furrows in the wood with every footfall. The air around him thickened, heavy and oppressive, saturated with the cold, metallic reek of his leaking fluids and the faint, acrid scorch of his phantom flames licking at the edges of reality. His shadow stretched long and jagged across the floor, swallowing the moonlight in uneven patches of unnatural black, as though the room itself recoiled from his presence.

Momo was frozen.

Her knees locked beneath her, rigid and trembling, palms pressed so hard into the tatami that her nails gouged crescent indents into the straw weave, the rough fibers biting back into her skin. Every breath came shallow and ragged, catching in her throat like jagged shards of glass. Her heart slammed against her ribs too loud, too fast, a frantic, erratic drum that drowned out the rest of the world yet somehow she could still hear the wet, rhythmic drip of his saliva hitting the floor, each thick drop hissing faintly as it ate into the wood, releasing tiny curls of acrid smoke that stung her eyes.

This was Okarun.

The boy who’d blushed scarlet when she teased him about his glasses. The boy who’d stammered apologies after every argument, voice cracking with guilt. The boy who’d looked at her really looked like she was the only steady thing in his chaotic, upside-down world. The boy she’d loved, quietly, fiercely, without ever finding the right moment to say it out loud.

And now he was gone.

Replaced by this towering, black-veined abomination with crimson eyes that glowed like dying coals, with a fanged maw stretched too wide, with a tongue that flicked out and tasted the air like it was already savoring the flavor of her fear. The boy she knew would never have stared at her with that kind of hunger, cold, possessive, bottomless, like she was meat and not a person.

Her stomach lurched violently, a sharp, twisting cramp that sent bile surging up her throat — bitter, burning, threatening to choke her. Her fingers trembled uncontrollably; she couldn’t feel them anymore, just numb, useless things pressed into the floor. Tears streamed down her face in hot, relentless tracks, blurring the edges of him until for one cruel heartbeat he almost looked like Okarun again, almost like the boy she’d known… before the illusion shattered on the glint of his elongated fangs and the slow, thick drip of red saliva from his chin.

She couldn’t move.

Normally her ghost hands would have erupted without thought, pale, glowing limbs bursting from her back to shove, to bind, to fight. But her power felt distant, locked behind a wall of ice in her chest, unreachable. Every time she tried to summon it, all she could see was Okarun’s real face, the shy smile, the nervous laugh, the way he’d always looked at her like she was the only person who ever truly saw him.

And now those crimson eyes were looking at her like prey.

“Okarun…” she whispered, voice cracking into a fragile, barely audible thread over the low, wet rumble rolling from his throat. “Please… come back to me. You’re not this thing. You’re not this monster. Please.”

The words were small, trembling, desperate, the same broken plea she’d once whispered when he’d tried to leave after a fight, when she’d grabbed his sleeve and begged “Don’t go” like it was the only thing keeping her from shattering. Tears spilled faster now, hot and stinging, dripping from her chin to the tatami in soft, silent plops that felt louder than gunshots in the sudden hush. Her whole body shook not just from terror, but from the unbearable, tearing ache of seeing someone she loved hollowed out and replaced by something that wore his face like a stolen mask.

She couldn’t process it.

Her mind kept trying to stitch the two together Okarun and this beast but every seam tore open again. The boy who’d held her hand in the dark after a nightmare couldn’t be the same creature whose tongue tasted the air like it was already imagining how she’d taste. It didn’t fit. It couldn’t fit.

And yet there he was.

Walking closer.

The smell of him rot and copper and something sickeningly sweet grew stronger with every step, curling into her nose and throat until she gagged silently, bile rising again. Her vision swam, tears and terror blurring him into a dark, towering shape with glowing eyes and dripping fangs.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to fight. She wanted to reach out and pull the real Okarun back from wherever he was trapped.

But all she could do was whisper again, voice breaking on every syllable.

“Please… come back to me.”

Seiko jumped in front of Momo Turbo Granny on her shoulder in her metal bat, Nessie ready.

“Kid I don’t want to hurt you but you’re not touching her! Okarun if you’re still in there fight this thing! Don’t let this creature win!”

Seiko said, determined.

“We are not going to let you touch her, you power-stealing glutton! You’re going to have to go through us!”

Turbo Granny yelled.

Aira right next to them in her Acrobatic Silky form in a battle-ready stance.

“Master Takakura! Stop this craziness! Fight this creature it’s not you! You are not a monster! You’re sweet, kind Ken! He would not do this to his friends!”

The Beast roared at Aira then a wicked growling came out the Beast’s vague sounds, Okarun’s voice layered with something wicked.

“Little Aira! Always thinking you're the leader! That you know best thinking you're better than others but deep down you have so many insecurities. You're no leader, you're just annoying! Worthless you always just piss me off trying to make me do things always thinking that you're always better. The creature said in a very calming tone of Okarun hitting her right where it hurts cutting her like a blade. “I don't care for you Aira, I don't love you!” “And I never will in any way! the creature was taunted.”

Then the creature’s inky tongue shot out, tasting the air again as he gave a wicked grin toward Aira.

Aira’s face felt those taunting words from the creature were hard and in that split second that she let her guard down, he grabbed her with his tongue wrapping around her arm. Pink energy started flying through the tongue as he started to feed, draining her.

He started to grow in size just a little bit, almost hitting the ceiling.

All of them watched in horror.

Aira shot her magenta hair at him, grabbing him by the wrist and pulling him hard to the side. The tongue fell away from her arm but she was drained. She felt groggy like she hadn’t slept in a while. She tried to move but she wasn’t fast enough and the creature grabbed her with his tail, cutting her a little bit with the barbs at the end and throwing her through the ceiling hard. As he looked up watching Aira go flying she landed in the front of the house, not moving much.

Nessie flew at the creature’s head, Seiko swinging with all her strength.

Inches before it connected, the creature’s claw snapped up catching the metal mid-swing with a ringing clang that vibrated through Seiko’s arms and made her teeth ache. It held the bat still effortlessly, red saliva dripping from its fangs in thick, sizzling strands that hit the floor and ate tiny craters into the tatami.

The creature slowly lowered its maw until it was eye-level with Seiko close enough that she could feel the cold, wet heat of its breath against her face, smell the rot and copper and burning sweetness rolling off its tongue.

“Always the tough one,” it taunted, voice low and mocking. “Always putting everyone else first. Always giving until there’s nothing left of you but hollow bones and echoes.”

The words hung heavy in the air, thick with the scent of copper and rot rolling off its breath in slow, warm waves that washed over Seiko’s face. The creature leaned closer close enough that she could feel the damp heat radiating from its maw, smell the chemical sweetness of decay mixed with the sharp metallic tang of blood, feel the faint vibration of its low rumble against her cheek like a predator purring before the strike.

“That’s not strength, Granny. That’s self-destruction dressed up as love.”

A wet, bubbling chuckle rose from deep in its throat, saliva dripping in thick, viscous strands that hit the tatami and sizzled into tiny smoking craters, the faint hiss rising like steam from a fresh wound. The smell intensified hot iron, burning hair, something sickly sweet underneath, like fruit left to rot in the sun until it split open.

“You pour yourself out for them… over and over… waiting for someone to notice, waiting for someone to stay. But they never do. They take. They leave. They forget. Just like they always have. Just like they always will.”

The creature tilted its head slowly, the motion accompanied by a soft, wet crack of shifting cartilage and its inky tongue flicked out again, tasting the air inches from her face. Seiko could feel the cold, sticky brush of it against her skin, the wet promise of what it could do if it chose. The crimson tip flared as it sampled the sharp, steady pulse of her aura unyielding, but laced now with the faint, bitter aftertaste of every time she’d stood alone after everyone else walked away.

“People are going to take advantage of you… take everything you have… and leave you alone in the dark with nothing but the taste of your own blood in your mouth and the echo of their footsteps fading away.”

The creature’s fanged grin widened slow, deliberate teeth glinting wetly in the red moonlight, saliva dripping from the tips in thick, glistening strands that caught the light like liquid rubies.

“None of them are going to stay around for you.”

The words came out almost gentle the same way Okarun used to say “You don’t have to do everything alone” when she’d stay up brewing tea for him after a fight. But now they were knives, twisting slowly, peeling back every layer of armor she’d built over decades of loss.

“You could be like me… and just take what you want.”

Its tongue shot out again, tasting the air directly in front of her face close enough that Seiko could smell the rot and copper and burning sweetness rolling off it in heavy waves. But she never budged. She wasn’t afraid.

“Come on kid,” Seiko said, voice steady despite the claw holding her bat, despite the cold breath on her skin, despite the way the creature’s words had sunk into her bones like poison. “Fight this creature I know you can. You’ve made it through so many battles already. You’re strong, you're stronger than it! Ken Takakura!!! Fight this monster!!”

And for a split second Okarun’s face contorted with pain, recognition and he threw his head back with a guttural roar. The creature staggered, claw releasing the bat as it grabbed its own head, thrashing violently. Okarun’s voice broke through in flickers — “Stop this… I don’t want to hurt anyone… leave them alone!!!” — layered with the creature’s snarls.

The Beast crashed into the wall, scratching and knocking a shelf over the internal battle raging visibly in every thrash.

Seiko stepped forward, bat raised again, but the creature recovered too fast.

Its claw shot out slamming into Seiko and Turbo Granny sending them flying into the kitchen. Wood splintered. Pots clattered. Seiko hit the counter hard, bat clattering away.

The creature’s head snapped back toward Momo the motion far too fast, vertebrae cracking like dry branches under sudden, violent pressure, sending a fresh spray of thick, red-black saliva arcing from its gaping maw in glistening, ropey strings that splattered across the tatami in heavy, wet droplets. Each impact hissed and sizzled, eating tiny smoking craters into the straw weave, releasing curls of sharp, acrid smoke that stung the eyes and coated the throat with the taste of scorched metal and rotting sweetness.

The air around its face warped, rippling with conflicting waves of frigid cold and searing heat phantom flames along its spine flaring brighter, hungry tongues of black-red fire licking upward as though the creature’s sudden focus on her had fed them fresh fuel. Its shadow stretched impossibly long and jagged across the floor, devouring the moonlight in uneven, throbbing patches of absolute black, as though the room itself recoiled, the very darkness shrinking away from its presence.

““Momo…”

The word slithered out low and sultry, wrapped in Okarun’s familiar voice — the same voice he’d used when he’d stammer her name in quiet moments between battles, when he’d look at her like she was the only anchor keeping him from drifting away. But now it was poisoned, thick with raw, bottomless hunger, every syllable dripping like the viscous red fluid still leaking steadily from between its fangs, each drop hitting the floor with a soft, wet plop that echoed in the sudden hush. As the name left its maw, the jagged black spikes along its spine quivered — a slow, deliberate ripple running from neck to tail like a shiver of anticipation, each thorn trembling faintly as though the sound of her name had sent a thrill through the corruption itself, feeding it, urging it closer.

“I’m hungry…”

The creature’s voice dropped even lower, almost a purr, the sound vibrating up through the floorboards and sinking into Momo’s bones like cold fingers tracing her spine. She felt it in her chest, a deep, resonant thrum that synced horribly with the frantic, tripping beat of her heart, making her ribs ache. The smell rolled off its breath in heavy, suffocating waves: hot copper, sweet rot, something chemical and burning underneath, like overripe fruit left to burst and ferment in the sun.

“…please… you love me, right?”

It took another step — deliberate, heavy, claws gouging fresh furrows into the wood with a slow, splintering scrape that grated against her eardrums. The tail dragged behind it, lazy and coiling, leaving a thin, smoking trail of red fluid that hissed and bubbled against the tatami, filling the room with the sharp, stinging reek of burnt metal and fresh blood.

“I need you… I’m starving…”

The words came out breathy, intimate — the same way Okarun used to whisper “I need you” when he was scared, when he’d cling to her hand after a near-death fight and pretend it was just to steady himself. But now they were a promise of consumption, every breath carrying the cold, wet heat of its open maw closer to her skin, close enough that she could feel the damp promise of its breath brushing her face.

“I’ll eat you up…”

The creature’s fanged grin widened slow, deliberate teeth glinting wetly in the red moonlight, saliva dripping from the tips in thick, glistening strands that caught the light like liquid rubies. The tongue flicked out again, long, black, crimson-tipped tasting the air mere inches from her face. Momo felt the faint, cold brush of it against her cheek, the sticky promise of what it could do, the way it lingered as though savoring the salt of her tears, the sweet ozone of her fear, the stubborn flicker of her own spiritual energy still burning beneath her skin.

“I know you… I know you better than you know yourself…”

The voice was velvet now, sultry and dark, wrapping around her like smoke. It leaned in closer close enough that she could see the crimson glow inside its orbs pulsing in perfect rhythm with her racing heartbeat, casting bloody afterimages across her vision. She could smell it fully now: the rot and copper on its breath, the faint chemical sweetness of its saliva, the underlying stench of something alive and wrong, something that had burrowed deep inside Okarun and hollowed him out from the inside.

“All those times you wanted to say you loved me… but you couldn’t… because you were scared…”

The creature’s head tilted slowly, the motion accompanied by a soft, wet crack of shifting cartilage. Its tongue slid out again slower this time hovering so close to her cheek that Momo felt the cold, damp tip ghost across her skin, leaving a thin trail of sticky red mist that clung to her face like damp cobwebs. She tasted it on her lips bitter, metallic, faintly sweet the flavor of something that had already begun to claim her.

“…Every time your heart raced when I looked at you. Every time you almost reached for my hand but pulled back. Every time you tell yourself ‘not yet,’ ‘not now,’ ‘what if he doesn’t feel the same?’ I felt it all. I tasted it all. Your love was so sweet… so ripe… just waiting to be taken.”

The creature’s voice dropped to a husky whisper, each word sinking into her like teeth.

“And I love you too, Momo. I love how your aura flares when you’re near me bright pink and gold, like fire wrapped in silk. I love how it trembles when you’re scared. I love how it calls to me… begs to be devoured.”

The tongue flicked out once more, brushing the corner of her mouth cold, slick, tasting of copper and rot and something achingly familiar and Momo gagged silently, bile rising in her throat. The creature’s eyes never left hers, the crimson glow flaring brighter, pupils narrowing to slits as though drinking in every flicker of her expression, every tremble of her lip, every tear that slid down her cheek.

“So give me yourself… Give me all of you. Let me feed. Let me have that beautiful aura of yours. Let me take the love you were too afraid to give when I was still… me. I’ll make it feel so good. I’ll make you feel whole… inside me.”

The confession came out soft, almost tender the same way Okarun used to say her name when he thought she wasn’t listening. But now it was a threat, a promise of consumption wrapped in affection.

Momo didn’t blink. This was not her Okarun. This creature was an abomination.

Sure determination came under her eyes.

“You are not Okarun! Now leave him alone and get out of him.”

She yelled with boldness.

In her face, the creature tilted his head to the side tongue sliding out, tasting the air again.

“But I am Okarun! We Are One Now. You destroy me, you will destroy him. What he wants I want and what I want he wants!”

The creature said with amusement.

“You are not Okarun!!”

Momo threw her ghost hands forward pale, glowing spirit limbs shooting out to grab its arms, trying to hold it back.

The creature brought up a claw aiming to grab Momo.

Jiji now in full Evil Eye form exploded into motion, purple aura crackling like live wires around his body as he shot out of nowhere and clamped both hands around the creature’s descending claw just inches from Momo’s face. The impact rang out a sharp metallic clang that vibrated through the room claws screeching against Evil Eye’s energy-coated palms in a shower of violet sparks.

“Do you want to play!” Evil Eye snarled, grin wide and manic, teeth flashing in the red moonlight.

The creature’s crimson eyes narrowed, amused.

Evil Eye twisted violently, wrenching the claw sideways with explosive force. Purple energy detonated outward in a concussive wave — the creature’s arm buckled, and its entire body was hurled backward like a ragdoll. It crashed through the wall in a deafening explosion of splintered wood, plaster dust, and shattered beams. The house groaned; moonlight flooded in through the gaping hole as debris rained down in slow motion.

Evil Eye stepped through the wreckage, boots crunching on broken wood, purple aura flaring brighter, casting long, violent shadows behind him. He strolled forward with smug confidence, chuckling low in his throat, a sound like grinding gravel.

“Come on, beastie… is that all you got?”

The creature lay sprawled in the dirt outside, black body smoking faintly where it had struck the ground. It pushed itself up slowly, claws sinking deep into the earth with wet, sucking sounds and fixed Evil Eye with a slow, predatory stare. Crimson eyes glowed brighter, pupils dilating like blooming voids.

Evil Eye sprinted forward, laughing, purple energy trailing behind him like comet fire. He launched a brutal kick boot connecting with the creature’s ribs in a meaty crunch. The impact rang out like a sledgehammer on iron; the creature skidded backward several feet, gouging twin furrows in the soil.

A low, rumbling growl rolled from its throat not pain, but pleasure. A deep, satisfied sound that vibrated the ground.

Evil Eye lunged again, fist cocked, purple aura exploding around his knuckles like a miniature sun.

The creature moved faster than before.

Its arm snapped out like a striking cobra. Massive claws closed around Evil Eye’s neck in a vise of black iron. Evil Eye’s body jerked, feet leaving the ground as he was lifted effortlessly. Purple energy flared wildly around his throat, crackling and sparking against the creature’s palm but the grip only tightened.

Then the tongue lashed forward.

Long, black, crimson-tipped it struck Evil Eye’s chest with a wet *slap*, the crimson tip piercing straight through the purple aura like a needle through silk. Evil Eye’s eyes widened. A choked gasp tore from his throat.

The tongue began to feed.

Purple energy surged upward in violent, pulsing streams thick, glowing ribbons of raw power being sucked into the black length like blood through a straw. Each pull was accompanied by a deep, wet, greedy slurp that echoed across the yard. The creature’s eyes fluttered half-closed in unmistakable bliss, a low, rumbling purr vibrating through its chest as it drank deeply from the second-strongest aura in the room. The stolen energy lit up its veins in bright violet streaks, racing beneath the black skin like lightning trapped under obsidian.

Evil Eye thrashed fists hammering uselessly against the creature’s arm but his movements grew slower, weaker. His purple aura flickered, dimmed, stuttering like a dying flame. The taste of it flooded the creature’s senses: sharp ozone, raw violence, the electric bite of untamed power. It savored every drop, tongue pulsing rhythmically, drawing more and more until Jiji’s body sagged, head lolling, eyes rolling back.

The creature grew.

Its shoulders broadened with wet, cracking sounds. Legs thickened, claws lengthening into wicked scythes that tore deeper into the dirt. It rose to its full height towering, monstrous easily twice the size it had been moments ago. The ground shook under its weight. Violet light still flickered along its veins, feeding the growth, making the black skin gleam like wet obsidian under the moonlight.

Momo stumbled out of the ruined house, face pale, eyes wide with horror.

She raised her hands, ghost limbs erupting from her back in pale, glowing arcs and wrapped them around the creature’s massive arm, trying to pull it away from Jiji.

But her grip slipped. The creature barely noticed. It was too focused on feeding too lost in the rush of stolen power.

Momo’s voice cracked small, broken.

“I’m sorry, Okarun…”

She brought her hands together in a perfect heart shape. Tears streamed down her face, but her eyes burned with desperate resolve.

“Momo… Tri-Beam!!”

She screamed it with everything she had.

A blinding heart-shaped beam of pure pink-gold energy erupted from her palms searing, radiant, roaring like a living thing. It struck the creature square in the side with a sound like thunder cracking open the sky.

The impact was catastrophic.

The beam punched through black flesh, burning a smoking crater the size of a car. Violet and crimson light exploded outward in violent sparks. Chunks of corrupted meat vaporized instantly, turning to ash that drifted upward in the night wind. The creature’s roar of pain was deafening raw, animal, echoing across the fields like a dying beast. Smoke poured from the wound in thick black columns, the smell of charred meat and burning ozone choking the air.

For the first time, the creature staggered.

It dropped Evil Eye Jiji collapsed in a heap, gasping, aura flickering weakly. The tongue snapped back into its maw with a wet slurp.

The smoking wound smoked furiously blackened edges peeling back, raw meat visible beneath but then it began to close.

Flesh knit together with horrifying speed blackened skin bubbling, new tissue crawling across the crater like black mold growing in fast-forward. Crimson veins pulsed, pumping corruption back into the wound. Within seconds the hole was shrinking, smoke thinning, the creature’s side already smoothing over, the burn reduced to a raw, glistening scar that shimmered with fresh black flesh.

The creature’s head snapped toward Momo.

Its crimson eyes narrowed not with rage, but with sudden, cold calculation.

I understand now.

Her power could hurt! it.

The wound still smoked faintly, the smell of charred meat lingering but the creature was already healing, already stronger, already adapting.

The creature threw its head back and unleashed a roar earth-shaking, window-rattling, a sound that rolled across the rice fields like a physical wave. The night itself seemed to flinch.

Then it turned massive, pivoting with terrifying grace and ran.

Claws tore up the earth in deep, wet gouges as it sprinted toward the rice fields, black silhouette cutting through the moonlit paddies like a wound in the night. The ground trembled with each thunderous stride, water splashing in silver arcs beneath its weight. The tail whipped behind it like a living lash, trailing faint wisps of red mist that curled and dissolved into the dark.

Momo stumbled forward, legs weak, heart shattering in her chest.

“Okarun… NO!”

Her voice cracked raw, desperate, tearing out of her like something vital being ripped free. She reached one trembling hand toward the vanishing shape, fingers outstretched as though she could still pull him back, as though the boy she loved was still somewhere inside that monstrous shadow.

A gentle breeze rose then soft, almost tender, stirring the rice stalks in whispering waves and lifting loose strands of her hair across her tear-streaked face. The same wind brushed against the creature’s retreating form, ruffling the phantom flames along its spine for one fleeting moment, making them flicker like dying embers.

The last faint traces of her Tri-Beam’s blue-teal light, that pure, spiritual glow that had burned so brightly only seconds ago lingered in the air around her outstretched hand. It shimmered, fragile and fading, curling like dying fireflies before dissolving into the night. The color bled away slowly, leaving only cold moonlight and the distant, rhythmic splash of the creature’s flight through the paddies.

She stood there hand still reaching watching the black silhouette grow smaller, then smaller still, until it melted completely into the darkness. The breeze died. The rice fields went still.

All that remained was the echo of her broken cry hanging in the air, and the hollow ache in her chest where hope had been.

 

Did some fanart of the transformation

Come check out my art work on Tumblr have a great day. 

https://www.tumblr.com/psychicmomo/808594277020139520/the-heart-beneath-the-icing-30575-words-by?source=share

Chapter Text

*******Soft snow and divine flowers*******

Momo and Jiji sprinted from the ruined house. Seiko, bloodied and limping, pressed Nessie into Momo’s hands. “Go. I’ll stay with Aira. Bring him back,” she said, voice hoarse from pain and smoke. Then she yelled, “Momo, take this warm water to get Jiji out of Evil Eye form! Go!”

Momo snatched the thermos of warm water from Seiko’s side and ran to Jiji, who lay sprawled in the dirt just outside the shattered wall. His body twitched faintly, purple aura flickering like dying embers around him, eyes still glowing with the manic light of Evil Eye. Momo knelt, uncapped the thermos with shaking fingers, and poured the steaming water over his face and chest in a frantic stream. The liquid hissed against his skin, steam rising in sharp white curls, the heat cutting through the cold night air like a knife. Jiji gasped, body jerking once, then again, the purple fire snuffing out completely. His eyes cleared, pupils shrinking back to normal. He was just Jiji now pale, sweat-soaked, voice rough and groggy as he pushed himself up on trembling arms.

“Jiji, are you okay?” Momo asked, voice tight with fear.

“Yeah… I’ll be fine,” he rasped, one hand instinctively rising to his neck. The skin there was raw, an angry ring of blistered red where the creature’s tongue had wrapped around him and fed, the burn still throbbing hot and stinging like acid under the skin. He winced as his fingers brushed it. “Where’s Okarun?”

“He ran off through the paddy fields,” Momo said, voice cracking. “He’s heading toward the residential area. We have to hurry! I have no idea what the monster is capable of, and I don’t want Okarun to hurt anyone if he’s still in there.” Her eyes filled with tears, sad and determined. “Hang in there, Okarun,” she whispered softly, almost to herself.

So they both turned and ran from her house, hoping they could get to their friend in time.

The creature burst from the rice field onto a narrow rural road under a cold, clear midnight sky. Moonlight glinted on the fields and low concrete houses with dark windows, Streetlamps flickered weakly, casting long, trembling shadows as the creature loped forward, claws gouging wet earth with thick, sucking sounds. The air smelled of damp soil, and something sharper: the faint ozone crackle of stolen spiritual energy still clinging to its skin. It smelled faint auras leaking from sleeping people, thin threads seeping through cracks in their dreams, sweet and fragile like candle flames in the wind. The hunger was unbearable, a burning void gnawing inside its ribs.

It crashed through a low fence into a small front yard with a splintering crack of wood. An older man, awakened by the noise, opened his door in pajamas, phone flashlight trembling in his hand. The beam shook across the creature’s black hide, catching the crimson glow of its eyes and the dripping saliva hanging from its fangs.

He froze.

The creature lunged. Its tongue pierced through his chest aura in one violent pull. A pale, watery blue-white light (fear and confusion) streamed upward in shimmering ribbons, crackling like static. The man collapsed, gasping, eyes rolling back, pulse thready alive, but only just. Inside, Okarun’s fading will claw at the edges, screaming stop, stop, don’t kill him, his resistance the only thing keeping the man’s heart beating.

The creature shuddered in delight and pleasure, its massive body swelling with a grotesque, wet ecstasy. Shoulders broadened with sharp, meaty cracking sounds as muscle and bone stretched and reformed beneath the slick black skin. The jagged spikes along its back clicked together rhythmically, a low, metallic chitter like chitin plates shifting in eager anticipation, each one quivering as a stolen aura pulsed through its veins in bright, electric ribbons. Height surged upward, pushing past the roofline with a slow, grinding groan of vertebrae realigning. Its roar shook windows, waking more houses. Lights flicked on one by one. Screams began. The creature destroyed anything in its path: a wooden fence shattered under its claws with splintering cracks, a bicycle crumpled like foil in a single, casual swipe, a mailbox torn from its post and flung into the darkness with a ringing metallic clang that echoed down the empty street.

The creature reached the first proper neighborhood: quiet rows of two-story homes with tiled roofs, small gardens, parked kei cars, narrow alleys lit only by occasional streetlamps and the cold glow of vending machines. Midnight silence shattered claws gouging asphalt with harsh screeches, tail smashing a mailbox into twisted metal with a ringing crash, then whipping around to shatter a wooden gate into splinters that flew like shrapnel.

A businessman on a cell phone, returning from overtime, rounded the corner, his shoulders slumped under the weight of another long day, briefcase swinging loosely from numb fingers. The streetlamp above flickered once, twice, then steadied, throwing a sickly yellow pool across the pavement. He lifted his head and froze.

The creature loomed ahead, a living shadow made of nightmare. Its black hide glistened wetly in the lamplight, every muscle beneath rippling like oil on water. Crimson eyes burned low and bright, twin coals that seemed to drink the darkness around them, pupils narrowed to slits of pure hunger. The air around it shimmered with heat and cold at once, phantom flames licking along its spine, frosting the leaking red-black ooze into tiny crimson crystals that glittered like blood rubies. Saliva dripped from its open maw in thick, syrupy strands, each drop hissing as it struck the pavement and ate tiny smoking craters into the asphalt, releasing the sharp, chemical stink of burning rubber and rotting fruit.

The briefcase slipped from the man’s fingers and clattered to the ground with a dull, metallic thud. Papers fluttered out, caught briefly in the night breeze before settling in the growing pool of melted snow and saliva. His knees buckled, but he couldn’t move, couldn’t scream, only stared as the creature charged.

It moved faster than anything that size should, claws tearing up asphalt in long, screeching gouges, each strike sending sparks and fragments flying. The ground trembled under its weight. The tongue lashed out long, black, crimson-tipped like a striking serpent. It pierced straight through the salaryman’s chest aura with a wet, sucking sound, the pale blue-white light of bone-deep fatigue streaming upward in shimmering, crackling ribbons that tasted of exhaustion and despair. The man collapsed mid-step, legs folding under him like paper, wheezing, eyes rolling back until only the whites showed. His pulse fluttered thready and weak alive, but only just, fading fast on the edge of darkness.

Inside the void of his mind, Okarun’s voice broke through, faint but determined, raw with anguish.

“Please stop! You’re hurting them… I’m hurting… Please stop!”

The plea was small, trembling, but it carried a desperate spike driven straight into the creature’s core.

More doors opened. People ran. The creature pursued, feeding opportunistically each drain a different color: a mother shielding her child warm, protective amber aura torn away; she collapsed clutching her son, both barely breathing. A young man filming on his phone excited violet aura devoured; he dropped, phone clattering, chest rising weakly.

Every feed made it larger, more grotesque, more visible. Inside, Okarun’s resistance flickered like a dying candle I can’t… I can’t stop it… I’m sorry…

Momo and Jiji raced through alleys. Momo’s breath was ragged, tears streaming. “He’s… he’s hurting them… and he can’t stop… Okarun, what’s happening to you buddy?” Jiji’s voice cracked. “I don’t know… but he’s still in there. We have to reach him before he does something he can’t come back from.”

The creature barreled into a small commercial strip: a 24-hour FamilyMart glowing neon, a parking lot with a few cars, a closed ramen shop, a karaoke box with one light still on. Midnight quiet exploded.
It smashed through the glass front of the convenience store with a shattering crash. Inside: a sleepy clerk restocking, two customers buying late-night snacks.

Tongue lashed the clerk’s aura torn away. A soft, sleepy lavender light (half-asleep calm) streamed upward. The clerk collapsed behind the counter, barely breathing. Creature shuddered in bliss, body surging now almost scraping the ceiling, black skin splitting and resealing as it grew.

It turned to the customers one tried to run; tail whipped, barbs slicing legs. He fell. Tongue fed again. A panicked pale yellow aura (pure terror) pulsed in bright ribbons. Roars shook, the building shelves collapsed, glass shattered, alarms blared.

Outside, people in the parking lot froze then screamed and fled. The creature burst back out, now the size of a small house, crushing a parked car underfoot, metal crumpling like foil. Neon signs flickered and died as its flames passed.

Momo and Jiji skidded around the corner. Momo saw collapsed bodies, heard screams. Her voice broke. “They’re… they’re still alive… but barely… Okarun, please… fight it…” Jiji’s fists clenched. “ Hunger is probably what's driving him… but we can’t let him keep going. We have to save him.”

The creature reached the outskirts of Kamigoe City’s large central park with wide lawns, walking paths lit by dim lamps, a small lake reflecting moonlight, and a dense belt of woods at the far end. Midnight silence was broken only by crickets and distant sirens.

A few late-night walkers and joggers were scattered across the park. The creature charged through like a black avalanche.

It slammed into the first jogger tongue piercing, feeding. A steady green aura (focused determination) streamed upward. Body surged now towering over trees, tail smashing benches into splinters.

People screamed and ran. It pursued, feeding again each drain a different color: fiery orange (anger), soft peach (calm hope), flickering silver (anxiety).

Every feed made it bigger, spikes elongating, flames roaring higher.

Momo and Jiji raced across the grass, Nessie glowing faintly in Momo’s hands. Momo’s breath was ragged, tears streaming again. “He’s… he’s destroying everything… and we can’t stop him… Okarun, please… don’t let it win…” Jiji’s voice was raw. “We’re almost there. He’s still fighting. I know he is.”

The creature reached the treeline. It scuttled up a large tree, claws sinking into bark, tail whipping branches aside. Then it leaped crashing into the woods, trees toppling under its weight. The canopy closed behind it, swallowing moonlight, leaving only the sound of snapping wood and fading screams.

Momo and Jiji skidded to a stop at the forest edge. The park was chaotic with collapsed bodies, distant sirens. Momo stared into the dark woods, hand still outstretched, Nessie trembling.

Jiji put a hand on her shoulder. “We have to go in. He’s still in there… somewhere.”

Momo nodded, tears falling, eyes hardening. “I’m not losing him again.” “We're coming to Okarun!”

They stepped into the trees, following the trail of broken branches, crushed undergrowth, and lingering wisps of red-black mist.

The creature lurching stumble mid-stride as if something inside it has yanked the reins.

Inside the black void of Okarun’s mind, the chained battle reaches its breaking point.

The iron chair groans under Okarun’s relentless thrashing. Chains rattle like dying bells; blood runs in steady rivulets down his forearms, pooling beneath the seat in dark, glistening puddles. Crimson corruption veins crawl faster now thick ropes pulsing up his neck, across his cheeks, brushing the corners of his eyes like burning threads. The void itself is almost touching him, a suffocating black shroud that presses against his back, his ribs, his throat, squeezing every breath into shallow, syrupy gasps. The air tastes of copper and overripe sweetness, thick enough to choke on.

Yet Okarun still fights.

He jerks forward so hard the chair rocks dangerously, muscles bulging, teeth bared in a raw, animal snarl. I WON’T LET YOU KILL THEM! I WON’T LET YOU HURT ANYONE ELSE! His voice cracks, hoarse and ragged, but it carries a burning, defiant spike driven straight into the creature’s core.

The creature mirror-self in front of him, the creature wearing Okarun’s face falters. Its serene smile twitches violently. Crimson eyes flare with sudden, furious light. For the first time, rage bleeds openly through the honeyed mask.

“You… stubborn… little… thing…”

The voice is no longer smooth. It cracks like thin ice over deep water, still sweet, still seductive, but jagged now, vicious.

“You think you can keep fighting? You think you can keep holding me back forever?”

It leans in until its face is almost pressed to Okarun’s breath, hot and cloying against his lips.

“Look at what you’ve become. No heartbeat like a human’s. No fragile lungs. No weak stomach twisting with guilt. You’re not even flesh anymore. You’re hungry. You're a shadow. You’re the thing you used to read about in secret the monster under the bed, the thing that comes when the lights go out. And you still think your friends will love you? They’ll scream when they see you. They’ll run. Especially her.”

The creature’s voice shifts to Momo’s again. But this time there is no tremble of fear, no gentle catch in the throat. It is cold. Flat. Hateful.

“Okarun… I hate what you are now. You’re disgusting. You’re nothing but a monster. A thing. I never loved you, I pitied you. The boy who hid behind glasses, who couldn’t even say what he felt. And now look at you dripping red, claws tearing up the world, feeding on people like some parasite. You make me sick. I wish you were dead. I wish you’d never existed.”

The words land like knives. Okarun’s thrashing stops just for a heartbeat. His eyes widen, pupils blown with horror. Tears spill over, mixing with blood on his cheeks. A choked, broken sound escapes his throat not a scream, but something smaller, something dying.

The creature’s smile returns slow, vicious, triumphant.

“That’s it… that’s the crack I needed. Feel it, Ken. Feel the void sliding into that little wound she just made. Feel how easy it is now. No more fighting. No more pretending you’re still human. Just let go. Let me finish. Let me make you perfect.”

The void surges forward a black tide crashing against his chest, his throat, his eyes. Crimson veins flood across his face like spilled ink. The chains pulse once, twice hungry, final.

Okarun’s last thought is a whisper, barely audible even to himself: Momo… I’m sorry…

His head drops. His body still goes.

Outside, the creature staggers a sudden, violent lurch then turns sharply and bolts toward the treeline. No more feeding. No more destruction in the streets. It crashes through the last row of houses, scuttles up the side of a water tower, tail whipping, claws gouging concrete, and then leaps vanishing into the dark belt of woods at the edge of Kamigoe City’s large central park.

The frenzy has broken.

Not because it is satisfied.

But because something inside has finally almost gone quiet.

Momo and Jiji skid to a stop at the forest edge, chests heaving, faces pale. Momo’s hand is still outstretched toward the darkness where the creature disappeared. Nessie trembles in her grip.

Jiji, still sluggish, burn mark throbbing on his neck, stares into the trees.

“He… he just ran. He didn’t finish anyone. He could have. He didn’t.”

Momo’s voice cracks, barely above a whisper.

“He’s still in there… fighting…”

She takes one step forward into the shadows.

Jiji grabs her arm gently, but firm.

“We go together. We will bring him back.”

Momo nods, tears falling silently.

 

They step into the woods following the trail of broken branches, crushed undergrowth, and lingering wisps of red-black mist.

 

The creature crashes through the dense wall of trees, branches snapping like gunfire under its massive weight. Snow has begun to fall delicate, silent flakes drifting down through the midnight canopy, catching the faint moonlight and turning the woods into a shimmering, ghostly labyrinth. The ground is uneven, carpeted with fallen leaves and moss, but the creature moves with terrifying purpose, claws tearing deep furrows in the earth, tail whipping behind it, smashing saplings into splinters.

It bursts into a clearing.

An old stone shrine sits in the center, ancient, crumbling, abandoned for decades. Vines thick as ropes coil around cracked granite pillars and broken torii gates. Moss blankets the weathered steps. Shrubbery has claimed the offering box and the cracked stone lantern, yet somehow, impossibly, white flowers bloom everywhere delicate petals glowing softly against the dark stone, blooming in the dead of winter when nothing should be alive.

The creature staggers forward then collapses.

Its massive body slams into the center of the shrine with a thunderous crash. Cobblestones crack and shift under the impact. One of the old pillars topples, shattering into dust and debris that drifts upward in slow motion, mingling with the falling snow. The creature roars a sound that shakes the trees and sends more petals fluttering loose but the roar fractures halfway through.

It becomes two voices at once.

One is Okarun’s raw, desperate, human.

The other is the creature’s deep, guttural, monstrous nature.

They battle inside one throat, one body, one mind.

**Inner Mind The Chained Void**

In the black void of his mind, Okarun remains chained to the cold iron chair that grew from the darkness itself. Thick, living chains of inky shadow coil around his wrists, ankles, and throat, pulsing with crimson veins that now spread faster across his skin thick, dark tendrils snaking up his arms, chest, neck, and jaw like spreading rot. The metal is slick and warm, almost flesh-like, tightening with every desperate thrash. Each violent jerk makes the chains bite deeper, wet sucking sounds echoing as blood wells from torn skin and the shadows drink it greedily.

The black void around the chair is closing in faster now. What was once a distant wall is now a suffocating shroud pressing against his shoulders, curling around his ribs, brushing the back of his neck like cold fingers sliding under his skin. The air grows heavier, colder, thicker; every breath feels like dragging syrup through collapsing lungs. Crimson corruption veins throb brighter, crawling higher reaching his temples, his eyelids, threatening to flood his vision and snuff him out completely.

The creature looms in front of him, towering mirror-self, taller, broader, eyes glowing blood-red, face calm and serene, smiling with Okarun’s own mouth. But now there is rage behind that smile, sharp, impatient, a low growl vibrating through its chest as it leans in close, breath sweet and heavy like overripe honey laced with venom.

It speaks first in its own layered voice, soft and soothing:

“You always dreamed of the stars, didn’t you? Of the things that watched from beyond the veil… patient… ancient… hungry. You read the forbidden pages with trembling fingers, heart racing at every sigil, every name too dangerous to speak aloud. And now one of them is inside you. Feel it uncoiling in your marrow… vast… cold… older than light. Let the chains be your altar. Let your blood be the offering. Open your mind wider… let the Old Ones pour through the cracks. You were never meant to be small. You were meant to be the gate… the key… the sacrifice. Surrender, Ken. Become the conduit. Let the cosmos kiss you from the inside.”

Okarun thrashes violently head jerking back, teeth gritted, raw scream tearing from his throat:

“I WON’T LET YOU HURT THEM! I WON’T LET YOU KILL ANYONE ELSE!”

His body convulses against the chair, chains rattling like iron bones, muscles bulging, sweat mixing with blood on his skin. He fights with everything he has left, refusing to let the creature cross into murder his will, a burning, desperate anchor holding it back. He hasn’t killed anyone yet. He won’t. Not while he still has any control left. He’s their friend. He loves them. If he lets go even a little the creature will kill sooner or later. He knows it. And that fear fuels him.

The creature’s smile twitches rage flashing in its crimson eyes. It leans closer, voice shifting… becoming Momo’s gentle, trembling tone the exact way she used to say his name when she was scared but trying to be strong.

“Okarun… please… Why are you still fighting? You’re hurting so much… I can see it. I can feel it. Every time you pull against those chains, it tears you apart a little more. Just… let go. Let it be over. I’m so tired of watching you suffer. If you give in… it’ll stop hurting. We’ll be together again… like before. Don’t you want that? Don’t you want to stop breaking my heart?”

The mimicry is perfect: her soft cadence, the tiny catch in her throat. Okarun’s eyes widened in horror. His thrashing falters for a heartbeat, chest heaving, tears welling as the void presses tighter against his ribs. The crimson veins crawl up his cheeks now, brushing the corners of his eyes. His voice cracks, raw and desperate:

“Miss Ayase … no… that’s not you… GET OUT OF MY HEAD! I HAVEN’T KILLED ANYONE! I WON’T LET IT HAPPEN!”

The creature’s face remains serene, but its eyes burn hotter. It switches again to Jiji’s rough, cocky drawl, edged with fake concern.

“Yo, man… come on. Look at yourself. You’re not even breathing right anymore. No heartbeat like a human’s, no sweat from fear, no stomach tying itself in knots. You’re beyond all that weak crap now. You’re a king among monsters. Stronger than all of us. Why keep dragging yourself down for people who’ll never get it? Just let go. Be what you are. Be free.”

Okarun snarls, slamming forward so hard the chair rocks dangerously.

“SHUT UP! I’M NOT ONE OF YOU! I’M NOT LETTING YOU KILL MY FRIENDS!”

His muscles strain, veins bulging in his neck, blood dripping faster from torn wrists. He refuses to break and refuses to let the creature kill. He hasn’t taken a life yet. He won’t. Not while he still has any say.

The creature’s smile twists rage bleeding through. It leans even closer, voice shifting back to Momo’s soft, intimate whisper slow, loving, wickedly cruel.

“Okarun… I know you loved those stories. The aliens, the occult things… the ones that weren’t human anymore. You used to talk about them with such wonder… such quiet longing. You wanted to understand them. To be near them. And now you are one. You’ve metamorphosed into something greater. You’re not weak flesh and fragile organs anymore. You’re power. You’re hungry. You’re eternal. Why would I? Why would any of us want the old you back? The boy who tripped over words, who hid behind glasses, who was always afraid. This new you… this monster… this thing… It's beautiful. It’s strong. It’s us. Feel it, Okarun. Feel the strength in your limbs, the power in your veins. You could be a king among your own kind now. Stronger than all of them. Just let go… let me finish what you started. Let me make you whole… inside me.”

Okarun’s final scream is raw, broken

“I WON’T GIVE UP! I’M STILL HERE! I HAVEN’T KILLED ANYONE AND I WON’T LET YOU!”

but it’s quieter, more ragged. He thrashes once more, chains rattling, blood dripping, muscles straining against the inevitable. The void presses against his throat now, crimson veins reaching his eyes. His vision stutters more screams, more bodies falling outside. He’s still fighting… still refusing to let the creature kill… but the leech is winning, and the honeyed words are sinking deeper.

His scream is ragged, defiant, tearing through the void like a blade.

The creature mirror-self snarls, rage bleeding through the honeyed mask. Its voice shifts again becomes Momo’s, soft and intimate, but colder now, crueler.

“Okarun… do you really think I could ever love you now? After what you’ve done? You’re a monster. You tore through people and drained them until they couldn’t breathe. I saw their faces. I saw the terror in their eyes. And you caused it. You’re not my friend anymore. You’re nothing but a beast.”

Okarun’s body jerks a choked sob escaping his throat. Tears mix with blood on his cheeks. The chains tighten. The void closes another inch.

The creature presses closer, voice dropping to a wicked, seductive purr still Momo’s, but laced with venom.

“You were never human enough for me. You were always hiding, always afraid, always weak. And now you’re worse. You’re a thing. A parasite. You think I’d ever touch you again? You make me sick. You’re better off gone. Let me finish this. Let me take what’s left. You don’t deserve to exist anymore.”

Okarun’s scream fractures half human, half monstrous roar. He slams forward so hard the chair rocks dangerously, chains groaning, blood spraying from torn wrists.

“I’M STILL ME! I’M NOT LETTING YOU WIN!”

The creature’s eyes flare fury and triumph warring in the crimson glow.

“Then watch, Ken. Watch me hurt them all. Watch me tear through your precious little world. And when there’s nothing left… you’ll finally give in. You’ll finally be mine.”

Outside, the creature’s body convulses on the cracked cobblestones of the shrine. Dust rises in slow clouds, mingling with drifting snow and fallen white petals. The flowers impossibly blooming in winter sway gently around the fallen beast, glowing faintly, untouched by the destruction. A soft, delicate beauty against the violence.

The creature roars again a sound that splits the night then goes still.

Snow continues to fall.

Delicate.

Silent.

Beautiful.

Momo and Jiji burst through the treeline, chests heaving, faces pale. Momo clutches Nessie so tightly her knuckles are white. Jiji, still sluggish from the earlier drain, burns mark throbbing on his neck, stumbles but keeps pace.

They hear the roar deep, fractured, half-human, half-monster echoing from deeper in the woods.

“He’s here,” Momo whispers, voice trembling.

They run up the old stone steps dilapidated, crumbling, covered in vines and moss. Snow dusts the cracked granite. White flowers bloom impossibly along the path delicate petals catching moonlight, glowing softly. Neither notices how strange it is that they bloom in winter. They only see the destruction ahead: shattered pillars, toppled lantern, broken cobblestones, and the massive black shape lying in the center.

The creature! Okarun is still alive.

Snow falls on its back, catching in the phantom flames, melting into tiny wisps of steam.

Momo stops at the edge of the clearing.

Her voice cracks small, broken, hopeful, terrified.

“Okarun…?”

The creature lay sprawled in the middle of the ruined shrine, massive black body heaving, claws gouging deep furrows into the cracked cobblestones. Snow continued to fall delicately, silent, catching in the impossible white flowers that bloomed all around the broken stone. Petals drifted down like tiny stars, mingling with dust motes and ash from the shattered pillars. The air was cold, crisp, strangely still despite the destruction.

Momo’s voice cut through the quiet.

“Okarun…?”

The name hung in the air soft, trembling, full of desperate hope.

The creature froze.

Its crimson eyes snapped wide. The low, rumbling growl in its throat died instantly. For one heartbeat, the entire clearing went silent, no wind, no rustling vines, no falling snowflakes making a sound. Then the creature’s body jerked violently once, twice as though something inside had seized control.

Inside the Void

The iron chair screamed under Okarun’s final, furious thrash. Chains rattled like breaking bones; blood sprayed from torn wrists in bright arcs. Crimson corruption veins raced across his face now covering his cheeks, his forehead, brushing the edges of his pupils like burning wire. The void pressed against his lips, his eyes, his heart a suffocating black tide that tasted of copper and honey and oblivion.

But when Momo’s voice reached him, outside, calling his name something ignited.

Okarun’s head snapped up. Eyes blazing, teeth bared, he roared into the void:

“I WON’T LET YOU HURT HER! I WON’T LET YOU HURT ANYONE ELSE!”

The creature snarled, rage splitting its serene mask wide open. Its voice dropped to a wicked, honeyed hiss, thick with venom.

“Look at her, Ken. She’s standing right there… calling your name. Do you think she loves you? After what you’ve done? After the terror you put in her eyes? She’s terrified of you. She’s coming to kill the monster you are. Give up, Okarun. Give up now… or I will kill her. I’ll make you watch. Your own claws will tear her apart. Your own tongue will feed on her beautiful pink-gold-teal aura until there’s nothing left. And then I’ll go to the rest of Jiji, Seiko, and Aira one by one. I’ll drain them dry while you scream inside your own skull. I’ll make you watch every second. Until you finally give in.”

Okarun’s scream fractured the void, raw, human, defiant.

“GET OUT! THIS IS MY BODY! THIS IS NOT YOURS, YOU DAMN MONSTER!”

He yanked against the chains with everything left, muscles tearing, blood pouring, chair rocking dangerously. The crimson veins surged forward reaching his eyes, his mouth but he refused to break. He refused to let the creature kill. He hadn’t taken a life yet. He wouldn’t. Not Momo. Not any of them.

The creature roared fury and hunger and frustration boiling over and outside, its body convulsed.

Its roar split the night deep, monstrous then fractured.

For one clear, aching second, it became Okarun’s voice loud, raw, human:

“I will not let you hurt Momo! I will not let you hurt my friends!”

Momo’s breath caught. Tears spilled over. She heard him. She heard him her name on his lips, not the creature’s. A spark of fire reignited in her chest, fragile, trembling, but real.

Jiji’s eyes widened. “He’s still in there… he’s still fighting…”

They exchanged one look terrified, heartbroken, but suddenly burning with new resolve.

The creature roared again monstrously, furious and rolled once more, claws tearing up moss and stone, petals flying.

Momo and Jiji plunged forward.

Momo gripped Nessie tighter, tears streaming but eyes fierce. Jiji, still sluggish and weak from the earlier drain, forced his body to move burn marks throbbing on his neck, legs heavy, but heart pounding with desperate hope.

They reached the edge of the shattered shrine.

The creature thrashed once more then went still.

Snow fell delicately on its back. White flowers swayed gently around the broken stone untouched, glowing faintly, impossibly blooming in the dead of winter.

Momo took one trembling step forward.

“Okarun… we’re here. We’re not leaving you.”

Jiji’s voice was rough, raw.

“Come on, man… fight it. We know you’re still in there.”

The creature’s crimson eyes opened slowly glowing, furious, but flickering.

As soon as Momo said Okarun’s name again “Okarun…?” the creature’s body jerked violently. Its head snapped up. Crimson eyes locked on Momo and Jiji.

A slow, wicked grin spread across its fanged maw.

The creature’s voice now dripping with honeyed wickedness slithered out, low and sultry, using Okarun’s familiar timbre but poisoned, thick with hunger.

“Don’t hurt me…”

It took one slow, predatory step forward claws scraping cobblestone, saliva dripping from its maw in thick, glistening strands that sizzled on the stone and melted the snow beneath them.

Momo… Jiji…

“I’m your friend… I don’t want to hurt you… I just want to feed. Let me feed on you. Don’t you want to help me?”

The creatures used their names Momo… Jiji… like it had known them forever, like they were old friends.

Momo’s hands shook on Nessie. Jiji stepped slightly in front of her, still sluggish, burn mark throbbing, but defiant.

“You are not Okarun,” Jiji growled. “Give our friend back. Now.”

The creature’s grin widened fangs glinting, saliva dripping in slow, glistening strands.

“I’m not your friend anymore,” it purred, voice still honeyed, still wicked. “I will feed on you until there’s no life left. Both of you. Then you’ll both be with me forever… friends forever.”

A low, wicked chuckle rumbled from its throat.

Momo’s voice cracked loud, desperate, and fierce.

“You are not ! Give him back!”

The creature lunged.

Massive claw scraped cobblestone with a screech. A roar vibrated the trees around them deep, monstrous, shaking snow from branches.

Momo dropped the bat and put her hands together, closing her eyes, channeling all the energy she could. All the flowers around her glowing seemed like they poured their energy into her as all of them turning teal color but to the creature and Okarun her and the flowers begin to radiate the pink golden teal of her energy the creature roared and lashed his tongue out at her grabbing her by her arm making her stumble the light trembling a little bit.

Jiji grabbed the creature by its side. The creature took its wide tail and grabbed jiji sharp Barber then digging into his arm. Making his own body kind of go limp from the red ooze substance that's like a saliva buried into him he felt a comfort wash over him the last words jiji was able to get out before falling asleep we will save you buddy!

The creature threw jiji. Jiji was so draining of energy that even the evil eye could not take over him. He landed in a patch of flowers just off the cobblestone. The flowers seem to kind of close in on him like they were protecting him.

Meanwhile Momo yelled at Jiji!! All right you ugly freak she yelled at the creature you're going to pay for that you do not hurt any of my friends. Give back Okarun she said all this while she was being drained by the creature in pain it felt like it was draining all over energy all over so but she didn't give in.

Okarun in the void heard Momo hurt her voice and he gave one last push the creature staggered a little bit and she was able to get enough power for her ghost hands to grab the creature by its face.

Okarun if you're in there if you can still hear me please stop this please.

The creature staggered and the tongue flew back into Maw with an audible crunch.

Momo fell to her knees gasping but she never let go of her ghost hands still on the creature's face.

in a faint voice barely audible.

I can hear you. I am sorry! Momo, please help me. Okarun said It's dark and cold and I'm losing control.

But the voice turned back into a growl as a creature struggled to get control back.

Momo steps forward with determination in her eyes in the most powerful words you can muster to let Okarun go!!!

They ran it towards each other.

In the void chain Okarun who is almost gone completely had enough energy to make the creature jerk in in his last words were if I'm going to die creature you're going to die with me.

The creature howled!

Momo stretched out her ghost hands and grabbed the creature she had four stretched out keeping the monster at Bay the strength of the creature was almost overwhelming she could barely holding the creature the sure strength was slowly scooting her backwards but then she noticed all the flowers were going teal with her like they were giving her energy trying to help.

All she heard was a faint sweet voice in her head out of nowhere giving all your light to his heart.

She took two of the ghost hands and placed it over his heart and with all her might with all the energy she could she started to blaze a white teal and gold color flowers going just as bright as she was in the snow falling around her her eyes started to Glow with a teal color and her body glowed with a faint White as the flowers gave their energy.

In the words she said so sweetly so tenderly. Looking straight at the creature's eyes

Okarun, please hear me. I'm sorry that I didn't tell you sooner I was afraid but now I know.

I love you!

In those words they were like a blade to the creature. A white light started to burn through the creature's body in the chain void. You cannot even see Okarun, all the corruption had almost taken him completely just so a teeny bit of his mouth was left and it's softly said I love you too..! Momo. deliberately used her real name like she's always wanted.

And all the corruption all the chains broke off of Okarun his body was developed in Pink Gold teal energy that felt more comfortable than anything the creature had done it felt more like home.

On the outside of the Void the creature roared, the white light enveloped it burning all the corruption away then all the skin and all the creature began to break away in white teal and gold ashes slowly shrinking the roar slowly becoming crying of Okarun tears streaming down his face. Momo had her ghost hands around his face and in his heart she was still glowing her brilliant light. She grabbed him by the cheek and told him softly it was okay he was okay he was back.

That she loved him he tried to say he was sorry but he was so weak he fell unconscious in her arms.

It's okay Okarun I have you now Rest.

And tears built up in her eyes happy tears that he was okay that he was back to himself she looked around at the flowers and then just stared up at the sky watching it snow hugging for dear life on Okarun

Just a soft sound of wind in the flowers around her still slowly glowing.

And the Sunlight appeared in the sky.

====Aftermath====

Momo looked down at Okarun's body. He seemed taller now. His nails were still black, and the vertebrae in his back were bulging ever so slightly more than they ever had before. A couple of them looked strangely like small spikes. She lifted his head up gently, and his mouth opened just slightly. She saw the teeny fangs glowing in the early morning light. She was worried maybe they would go away slowly. She looked up and noticed a very worn-out sign saying that this was a sanctuary of Divine Light. Momo smiled slightly. "Thank you for keeping him safe," she said to the shrine. The morning snow was still falling around her.

Jiji slowly got up from the ground, holding his head and looking like he was about to fall over. He just stared at Momo. She just smiled back. Both of them didn't really say anything. They were just happy that the nightmare was over. They were both drained and barely able to move. But they gathered themselves and slowly made their way back to the house. Jiji carried Okarun over his shoulder, being as gentle as possible. It took him a while, but they finally made it back. The morning light was shining down. The snow had finally stopped. They arrived back at Momo's house. Momo and Jiji just looked at the house and almost kind of laughed. "This poor house has seen so much," Momo said.

They walked into the house, stepping over debris from the battle of the night. Seiko was just sitting on a cushion smoking a cigarette. Turbo Granny gave them the eye. "Well, I see you were able to get four-eyes back," Seiko said. "Is he still alive?"

"Yes, but barely," Momo said.

"You look like you're about to drop dead yourself. Go rest. I will stay and watch four-eyes," Seiko said.

So they went and lay down. And finally all of them were able to rest for at least four or five hours.

Momo was the first one to actually awake. Worried about Seiko, she went in and told Seiko to go rest and she would watch Okarun. Turbo Granny was already in the corner sleeping in her little cushion. Momo sat on a cushion next to the unconscious Okarun hoping that he was okay, worried that the creature had taken too much from him. She softly took his hand and gently stroked his hair with her fingers. "Please be okay," she said gently.

Another hour went by. Jiji got up and came into the living room. "How is he?" Jiji asked Momo.

"He hasn't moved. Breathing is still very shallow," Momo said, slightly discouraged. "And he hasn't completely reverted back."

"What!" Jiji said loudly.

Looking down at him he realized he looked taller and on his fingertips they were still black. His skin was very pale. "Do you think the creature is still in him?" Jiji asked.

"I don't know?" Momo said.

The two just sit with each other having small talk trying to keep their minds off of the nightmare they went through.

A couple more hours passed. Aira finally awoke. She stumbled out into the living room.

"Aira!" Jiji said loudly. "You're okay."

"Shhhhhh!" Aira said loudly. "Use your indoor voice Enjoji!"

"Well I see you are alive, that's good," Momo said.

"Barely," Aira said.

Aira looked down at Okarun. "How did he become human again?" Aira asked.

"We had to chase his ass from the house all the way across the other side of town to blossom petal Park. That's a pretty decent walk now. Trying to do it while running and chasing after a monster that's slowly feeding on people and destroying everything in his path is not fun. He fed on people he was zapping their energy like that he did yours. It's probably chaos this morning but luckily no one died. But man did he destroy a lot of cars and mailboxes. Let's just put it this way Aira," Momo said in a very worn out voice. "Last night was a nightmare. But light prevailed."

Aira just sat with them and relaxed too and they watched to make sure their friend was okay.

When Seiko awoke all of them were kind of just trying to figure out what to do.

"Jiji let's fix the house up with the Nano skins and see if he wakes," Seiko said.

"All right you guys, you fix the house, I'll make dinner," Seiko said.

Turbo granny is still asleep on her cushion.

So for the rest of the night they worked on fixing the house they ate dinner. They stayed up for a long time until almost midnight. Before they started wandering off to sleep Jiji volunteered to watch over Okarun.

Okarun stirred the next morning. Jiji heard him move and turned to face him, heart lurching in his chest with a flicker of old fear that Okarun might still be the creature. The room smelled faintly of last night's dinner soy sauce, charred rice, and the lingering smoke from Seiko’s cigarette. Sunlight slanted through the half-open shoji screens, warm and golden, dusting the tatami with soft pools of light that caught tiny motes of dust floating in the air.

Okarun opened his normal, warm brown, sweet eyes and a low, pained groan escaped his throat. His whole body felt drained, heavy, like every muscle had been wrung out and left to dry. The futon beneath him was cool and slightly damp from his sweat. He pushed himself up slowly, not realizing how much it would hurt. Pain lanced through his chest and back like hot needles, sharp and sudden. He gasped, hand flying to his ribs, fingers trembling as he touched his arm and then his face, pressing hard against his cheekbones, his jaw, his forehead making sure the skin was still his, still familiar.

“I’m me again,” he whispered to himself, voice hoarse and cracked, but then he looked down at his hands and worry struck him like a punch. “My nails are still black… am I me? Am I still me?”

Then he felt them. He ran his tongue across his teeth slowly, tentative and the sharp points of the fangs caught on the soft flesh of his tongue. A tiny bead of blood welled up, metallic and warm. “No no no!!!” he cried out, voice breaking into a panicked sob. “I don’t want these! They can go away!”

Then he stood up, feeling completely off. The world tilted for a second; his legs felt too long, his balance wrong. He felt unnaturally tall, like his bones had been stretched while he slept. The floorboards creaked under his weight in a way they never had before.

Jiji walked over to him slowly, smiling, though his eyes were still wary. “Hi, Okarun. Are you your buddy?”

Okarun blinked and realized he was almost eye level with Jiji when he used to have to look up slightly. “Am I taller?” he said out loud, voice small and stunned.

“Yes! You are,” Jiji said with a smile, trying to sound light but his voice trembled just a little.

Okarun just stared at Jiji, eyes wide and glassy. “Are you okay? I’m sorry I did what I…”

He was cut off by Jiji. “Yo, it’s okay. It wasn’t you,” Jiji said, so gentle and kind and understanding. “Don’t beat yourself up over it. It wasn’t your fault. Whatever that thing that was inside you was making you do these things, we know that.”

Jiji said sweetly.

Momo had woken and walked into the room. Then she ran to him, so happy he was awake, so happy he was him again. She grabbed him in a giant hug, arms wrapping tight around his waist, face pressing into his chest. Okarun blushed real hard, his cheeks burned, ears glowing red, heart slamming against his ribs so loud he was sure she could feel it.

“Miss…”

Okarun’s words just kind of cut off, not finishing.

Then he gently hugged her back, smiling, happy he was in her arms. Her hair smelled faintly of last night’s smoke and something sweet like cherry blossoms. Her warmth seeped through his shirt, grounding him, making the cold emptiness inside his chest recede just a little.

“Momo… you’re okay. I didn’t hurt you. I am so sorry.”

“Don’t be silly,” Momo said, voice thick with emotion. “We know it wasn’t you. We know it was that creature.” She pulled back just enough to look up at him, eyes shining. “How do you feel?” Momo asked, voice soft and worried.

“I feel normal,” Okarun said slowly. “I don’t feel anything curling in me or anything like that right now. But I still don’t feel right. I… I don’t feel any of my organs working. I can feel my heart pumping slightly. And I still have fangs and my nails are black. I still look like a monster.”

“No! You do not,” Momo said fiercely, eyes flashing. “Maybe turning into that thing there was some permanent damage. This is a consequence, unfortunately, but you protected us even when you could have faded away in that thing you still fought for us. I heard you. You were willing to sacrifice yourself so that you wouldn’t hurt any of us.” Her voice cracked, tears welling up again. “So if you have to deal with just a few monster details, we will be okay. You are back, and you’re back with me. I don’t care if you have to live with a few scars from that battle. You’re alive, and that’s all that matters.”

And she went to hug him again, arms tight around his waist, face pressed to his chest like she was afraid he might disappear.

He put one arm around her, but still worried, looking at his hand at the black nails still there, worry on his face.

So they all got up. Finally they made breakfast and actually had a normal meal with each other. Normally all of them would be loud in many different conversations around the table but this one was very quiet after the nightmare they had happened the day before. All of them were kind of still wondering if Okarun was still himself.

He was not eating anything and he said that he could not taste anything which made him sad. "What has this creature done to me?"

When they finished dinner they put up the table and sat down on cushions . They were going to play some games trying to get their minds off of what was happening.

Momo watched Okarun slip out the sliding door, his shoulders hunched, footsteps heavy and uncertain on the wooden porch. The late-afternoon sun poured through the trees, turning the yard into a patchwork of gold and long shadows. She waited only a heartbeat before following, the floorboards creaking softly under her socks as she stepped outside. The air was cool now, carrying the faint, clean scent of
damp earth after the morning snow had melted away. A breeze rustled the leaves overhead.

Okarun had already reached the old steps of the shrine. He sank down onto the lowest one, elbows on his knees, staring at his own hands as though they belonged to someone else. The black nails caught the sunlight in sharp, glossy flashes, almost like polished jet. His back was to her; he didn’t notice her approach. His breathing was uneven, short, shallow inhales that made his shoulders rise and fall too quickly. She could see the faint tremor in his fingers, the way they flexed and curled as if trying to will the darkness away.

Momo stopped a few paces behind him, heart thudding. Then she took a breath, forced a grin, and called out in her brightest, loudest voice.

“Hey, you goober!”

Okarun jolted upright, shoulders jumping. He twisted around so fast he nearly lost his balance on the step. When his eyes landed on her, the blush hit him instantly high on his cheeks, creeping down his neck in a warm rush of pink that made the tips of his ears glow. His wide brown eyes blinked once, twice, like he couldn’t quite believe she was real.

“MISS AYASE!”

Momo laughed, soft and bright, stepping closer until she stood right in front of him. “Hey, I thought I told you not to call me that anymore. Just call me Momo.” She tilted her head, grin widening. “I mean… I did say I love you. And you said you love me too.”

She giggled a little breathless, a little nervous, but real. The sound danced in the quiet air between them.

“Come on, loosen up,” she said, voice softening. “You’re always so tense.”

“Miss… um… Momo,” Okarun stammered, scratching the back of his head. His fingers shook slightly; he tried to hide it by dropping his hand fast. “How are you supposed to love me like this?” Frustration cracked through his voice, raw and aching. “I have fangs and claws. My back doesn’t look right. I can’t eat regular food and I’m still hungry. Am I even still…” He paused, throat working. “Am I even still me? Or am I still a monster? What if I turn? What if I go back to that thing? What if I can’t stop? What if I can’t control it and it hurts you? If I did something to you… I can never live with myself.”

His words tumbled out faster and faster, voice rising, cracking at the edges. His hands clenched into fists on his knees, black nails digging into his palms hard enough to leave crescent marks. His breathing hitched, chest rising and falling too quickly, like he was drowning in his own fear.

Momo stepped right between his knees, cutting off his spiral mid-sentence.

“Okarun,” she said firmly, voice low and steady. “You’re you. Do you want to hurt me right now?”

“No!!!” Okarun shouted, almost offended, eyes huge and wounded. The word burst out of him like it physically hurt to even think otherwise.

“Then see?” Momo’s smile was very sweet, very soft. “You’re you. You’re my sweet, kind, dorky Okarun.”

Okarun stared at her. He couldn’t look away. Her face was so close, so open, so warm. The late sun caught in her hair, turning the strands into threads of molten copper and rose gold. Her cheeks were flushed from running, from crying earlier, from everything. A tiny freckle on the bridge of her nose stood out against her skin like a secret only he knew. Her eyes big, dark, shining with something fierce and tender held him like gravity.

Then he saw it.

Her aura flared around her like a living sunrise.

Pink bloomed first soft, candy-sweet, the color of cherry blossoms at dawn, curling in gentle wisps around her shoulders and hair. Then gold followed, warm and molten, like honey poured over sunlight, shimmering in thick, liquid bands that wrapped her arms and chest. Teal threaded through it all cool, electric, the exact shade of tropical shallows, flickering like bioluminescent waves, dancing along her collarbone, her fingertips, the curve of her smile. The colors moved together, slow and hypnotic, weaving and pulsing in perfect rhythm with her heartbeat. It was beautiful. It was overwhelming. It was her.

Okarun’s breath hitched sharp, sudden, almost a gasp. The scent of her hit him all at once: warm skin, faint cherry-blossom shampoo clinging to her hair, the sweet-salt trace of her earlier tears still lingering on her cheeks, and underneath it all, that radiant pink-gold-teal aura pulsing so close, so alive, so delicious. It wrapped around him like invisible silk, tugging at something deep and hungry inside his chest.

His fangs tingled.

He felt them shift slowly, involuntarily lengthening just a fraction, the sharp points sliding further past his lower lip with a soft, almost liquid sensation, like they were waking up. The tips pressed lightly against the inside of his mouth, sensitive, aching with sudden awareness. A faint, warm throb ran along his gums, not pain exactly, but a needy pull that made his stomach twist in a way that was equal parts shame and helpless want.

He turned his face away fast, cheeks burning hotter than ever, heart slamming against his ribs so hard he was sure she could hear it. He angled his head down and to the side, hoping the fall of his hair would hide the change before she could see. His hand came up instinctively, pressing against his mouth as if he could push the fangs back in by sheer willpower. The tips grazed his palm cool, smooth, sharper than they’d been a moment ago and he swallowed hard, throat clicking.

Momo tilted her head, still smiling, still close enough that he could feel the warmth of her breath against his ear. “Are you okay?” she asked again, voice soft, curious, completely unaware.

Okarun squeezed his eyes shut for a second, willing the fangs to recede, willing the hunger to quiet down. It was overwhelming. Embarrassing. And a little bit wonderful, in the worst possible way, because it was her smell making them do this. Her light. Her everything.

He forced a shaky nod, keeping his face half-turned away.

“Y-yeah… just… just give me a second,” he mumbled against his palm, voice muffled and small. “I’m fine. Promise.”

But his heart kept pounding, and the faint, tingling ache in his fangs refused to fade.

“Momo…” His voice came out small, almost reverent. “I can see your aura energy still. It’s… it’s beautiful. It’s pink and gold and teal. It radiates you in a beautiful light.” He swallowed hard. “I’m still so hungry and that looks so good. That’s what scares me. I still want to feed on energy.”

Momo’s expression softened. She stepped even closer, knees brushing his.

“Then I will share it,” she said quietly. “Take some if it will help you feel better and keep you as you are.”

“No! No! I’m not doing that. I could hurt you. I barely kept the monster from killing those people.” Okarun’s voice cracked, panic rising again.

She scooted closer still, until their knees touched. She reached out and laid her hand on his shoulder. The moment her palm made contact, Okarun made a tiny, involuntary wheezing sound half gasp, half whimper as warmth flooded through the point of touch.

“Look at me, Okarun!!”

She grabbed his cheeks with both hands gentle but firm and turned his face toward hers.

“Look at me, dingus! You are not a monster!”

Momo stared directly into his eyes. She did not blink. She did not move. She simply looked at him straight, unwavering, full of fierce, unshakable love.

“You’re so sweet and you’re so kind and you’re loving and you never give up on your friends, your family! And I love that about you. I love you, Ken Takakura!!”

And she kissed him.

Her lips were soft, warm, tasting faintly of salt from earlier tears and the sweet, lingering trace of her own aura. Okarun froze for half a second, shocked, stunned, then melted into it. His hands came up hesitantly, trembling, and settled on her waist like he was afraid she might vanish.

Momo’s aura enveloped him completely.

It started at their joined mouths a bright, shimmering burst of pink-gold-teal that tasted like summer peaches, ozone after rain, and something sweeter, something that felt like home. The light poured into him like warm syrup sliding down his throat, coating every raw, empty place inside. It raced along his jaw, lighting up the veins beneath his skin in soft, pulsing colors. It flooded his chest, chasing away the cold hollow where his heart had been stuttering, making it pound hard and strong and alive. The glow spiderwebbed down his arms, igniting the black nails at his fingertips so they shimmered for a moment like polished jet catching firelight. It surged up his spine, tracing the bulging vertebrae, softening their jagged edges with gentle heat. Even the tiny fangs in his mouth glowed briefly, the crimson sheen fading to a soft, pearlescent sheen as the light washed through them.

He was glowing.

Not the cold, hungry red of the creature, but a radiant white-teal-gold that made his pale skin luminous, almost translucent, every vein now visible as delicate, shimmering threads of color beneath the surface. The warmth rolled through him in waves, filling every aching, empty space, soothing the raw burn of hunger that had been clawing at his core. His body grew brighter, the light swelling outward until it haloed him like dawn breaking through fog, soft and golden at the edges, teal and pink flickering like fireflies in the center.

Slowly, involuntarily, their lips parted.

Okarun licked his lips, tasting the faint sweetness of her aura still lingering there, like honey and summer and home.

Then he realized the hunger was gone.

Completely gone.

Momo smiled, but a second later she swayed, one hand flying to her temple as dizziness washed over her. Her glow flickered, dimming just a little.

“Momo, are you okay?” Okarun’s voice cracked with sudden panic, hands reaching for her instinctively.

“Yeah… I just feel a little dizzy,” she murmured, blinking hard, trying to steady herself.

Okarun’s eyes went wide, realization dawning. “I think… I just drank your aura somehow.”

“No, no, no, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” Okarun said, voice rising in pitch, hands hovering uselessly as guilt crashed over him.

She took one of her fingers and pressed it gently to his lips, silencing him.

“Shhhhh!! It’s okay,” she whispered, a shaky little laugh escaping her. “That was one hell of a first kiss!”

She giggled again soft, breathless, cheeks flushed from the light and the kiss and the dizziness.

“Miss Ayase, I mean Momo!” Okarun stammered, voice cracking. “I just fed on you like an energy vampire! You’re okay with that?”

“Well…” Momo tilted her head, a wicked little smile curling her lips despite the faint dizziness. “Do you know how many girls out there wish they had a vampire boyfriend?” She leaned in closer, eyes sparkling. “I legit have one now!!!”

She grinned wide, mischievous and delighted, and reached up to gently grab his mouth, tilting his head so she could see better. “Look at those fangs!”

Okarun slapped his hand over his mouth to hide them. “Stop that!” he yelled, voice muffled against his palm, face burning crimson.

“What? They’re so cute and teeny! Come on, don’t hide them, let me look at them!”

“No!” Okarun said loudly, words muffled because of his hand over his mouth.

But then Okarun just stopped. He lowered his hand slowly, staring at Momo with wide, stunned eyes.

“Did you just call me your boyfriend?”

Momo grinned ear to ear. “Maybe!”

She wiggled back and forth slightly, taunting him with her movements, playful and bright.

He dropped his hand from his mouth, forgetting all about the conversation they just had.

“So what do you say, Okarun?” she said in a little sing-song voice. “Would you be my boyfriend? Would you be my monster?”