The city's nights had stopped belonging to humans.
Once, neon lights had painted Osaka in colors too loud to ignore—billboards screaming in kanji, red lanterns swaying outside ramen stalls, the wash of karaoke bars where voices cracked off-key but never cared.
Now the night belonged to silence.
And the silence belonged to them.
The Aggressors stalked in packs, claws drumming on concrete, their guttural shrieks slicing through alleys like knives in a throat. The survivors inside the shelter counted each cry like a heartbeat. They never admitted it out loud, but everyone was waiting for the count to stop.
For the creatures to finally turn their eyes on them.
---
That night, no one touched the scraps of food Daigo had scraped together. Even hunger shrank before the light that pulsed through the cracks.
Shitsubo stood at the barricade, pipe gripped in both hands. He hadn't moved for hours. His eyes burned red, though not from tears. He didn't cry anymore. The Insight wouldn't let him.
Through the gap, he saw the street.
Not empty. Not anymore.
The Aggressors stood lined along both sides, shoulder to shoulder, as if holding back traffic on a road where no traffic ran.
And between them walked something taller.
Its form was not chaos like the others—no crooked claws or twitching limbs. This one carried itself like it remembered being human once. Its stride was steady. Its arms, though jagged with stone, hung with purpose.
Every step cracked the pavement.
And its eyes—its eyes were not blind hunger like the swarm. They were cold, deliberate embers.
Watching. Measuring.
---
The shelter shifted. People whispered. The air grew frantic, a hive of fear.
"They've found us."
"It's here for him."
"No… it's here for all of us."
Shitsubo didn't move. Didn't answer. He only followed the Stone-Walker with his gaze until it disappeared around the corner, the Aggressors flowing after it like a tide.
But he knew.
It had seen him.
And it would come again.
---
The whispers turned louder the next morning.
"We can't stay. We'll die here."
"It's him! They follow his scent. They follow his curse."
"If we throw him out, maybe—"
Daigo slammed a fist against the wall. "Shut your mouths before you doom us all!"
But even his voice carried cracks now. Even his loyalty was fraying.
Shitsubo sat apart, pipe across his knees, eyes closed. He heard every word, even when they tried to whisper. The Insight carved their voices deeper, etched them into bone.
Weak things fall. Strong things take.
The thought came unbidden, and he hated how much it fit.
---
By noon, the mutiny had teeth.
A woman named Natsumi—her husband torn apart in the first breach—stood before the crowd, her face gaunt with hunger and grief.
"We're trapped here because of him," she spat, finger stabbing toward Shitsubo.
"Every time the Rift pulses, he convulses like a devil. He hears them! He calls them!"
Murmurs surged like a wave.
"He's not normal…"
"Always staring, never speaking…"
"The monsters look at him like one of their own."
Shitsubo opened his eyes, slow as breaking glass.
The silence he cast over them was heavier than Daigo's fury, heavier than Genji's pleas.
Natsumi faltered but did not stop.
"If we throw him out, maybe the creatures leave us be."
The words stuck in the air like a knife in a wall.
Genji stood, trembling. "No! He's my brother. He's saved us more times than you can count. Without him, we'd all be bones already."
But no one clapped. No one cheered.
They only looked at Shitsubo.
Waiting.
---
The Insight made it worse.
Every face glowed with fractures—thin violet cracks across skin and bone. He saw where they would break. Who would scream first. Who would turn on who.
And beneath it all, he saw the truth:
They would never stop fearing him.
No matter how many Aggressors he killed, no matter how many times he bled for them, the Rift's hunger had marked him.
And once marked, never forgiven.
---
That night, the Stone-Walker returned.
No pack this time. No parade of beasts.
It came alone, striding down the middle of the street, its shoulders scraping the buildings, its steps shaking dust from ceilings.
It stopped before the shelter.
And then it spoke.
Not in words of men, not in guttural shrieks like the swarm.
But in something older.
The sound was a crack in stone, a river grinding mountains to dust, a chorus of chains tightening around a throat.
Most of the survivors screamed. Some dropped, clutching their ears. A few foamed at the mouth.
But Shitsubo heard it clear.
"Blood-marked one. The Rift calls you. Walk, or be dragged."
---
The barricade rattled as fists pounded against it—from inside.
Natsumi's voice shrieked above the chaos. "It's here for him! Let it take him! Open the door!"
Genji fought to hold her back, his skinny arms straining against her fury. "Stop! You'll kill us all!"
Daigo roared, punching two men away from the entrance, but three more grabbed his arms. The shelter fractured into madness—screams, fists, curses.
And through it all, the Stone-Walker waited.
Silent. Patient.
Its ember-eyes never left Shitsubo.
---
Shitsubo rose.
Pipe in hand. Eyes burning.
The room froze—not because he spoke, but because the hunger in his face was undeniable now.
He looked at Genji first. His brother's face was wet with tears, arms locked around Natsumi's waist to keep her from clawing at the door.
He looked at Daigo next. The soldier's eyes begged him not to.
Then he looked at the barricade.
And he walked toward it.
The crowd parted like water, too terrified to touch him.
He reached the door, lifted the beam, and shoved it aside.
Night air rushed in, thick with dust and silence.
The Stone-Walker stood in the street, waiting.
And Shitsubo stepped out to meet it.
---
The air between them buzzed with pressure, heavy enough to bow the cracked street lamps. The Aggressors lingered at the edges of alleys, their eyes glowing faintly, waiting for a signal.
The Stone-Walker tilted its head. Its voice rumbled again, each syllable grinding into marrow.
"Chosen by fracture. Fed by silence. Why resist? The Rift hungers through you. You are ours."
Shitsubo's grip tightened on the pipe until the wood splintered. His teeth bared.
"I'm no one's."
The thing moved.
Not a lunge. Not a beast's frenzy.
A single step forward, heavy enough to shatter the pavement. Its arm rose, jagged stone fingers curling into a fist.
And Shitsubo swung.
---
The pipe cracked against its arm. Splinters flew. The impact rang like steel on steel.
The Stone-Walker didn't flinch. Its other hand lashed, catching Shitsubo across the chest. The blow launched him into the side of a building, brick shattering, blood spraying from his lips.
The survivors screamed from inside the shelter. Some begged him to fight. Others begged him to die.
Shitsubo spat blood, staggered to his feet, pipe still in hand. His chest burned with fire, but the hunger howled louder.
"Yes," the voice purred. "Take. Break. Feed."
He charged again.
This time, the Insight guided him. Every crack in the Stone-Walker's body glowed violet. Weak points carved across its chest, its joints, its skull.
He swung for them all.
The pipe smashed. Stone chipped. The creature grunted, its rhythm broken.
And for the first time, its ember-eyes narrowed—not in rage, but in recognition.
As if realizing what Shitsubo was becoming.
---
They fought until the street was rubble.
Each blow shattered concrete, split glass, dropped dust in sheets. Aggressors circled but never entered, as though the duel was sacred.
Finally, the Stone-Walker's arm cracked clean through under Shitsubo's strike. Shards fell like broken idols.
The thing staggered, dropped to one knee.
Its voice echoed again, but weaker, cracked.
"You… are not curse-bearer. You… are curse itself."
Then it fell.
Stone split. Flesh withered. Embers died.
The Aggressors shrieked once, a sound of mourning or rage, then melted back into the alleys.
The street went silent.
And Shitsubo stood alone, pipe smoking in his hand, blood dripping from his chin.
---
Inside, no one cheered.
The survivors only stared at him through the broken barricade, wide-eyed, trembling.
Not with awe.
With terror.
Genji's lips moved, but no words came.
Daigo's jaw clenched until blood seeped from his gums.
Natsumi whispered the word that everyone else was too afraid to:
"Monster."
Shitsubo turned away before he could see their faces again.
The hunger in his chest purred like a satisfied beast.
And for the first time, he didn't fight it.
Not completely.