Meanwhile the injured shisa moved through the backstreets of Kuoh like a ghost, a specter of pain and infinite purpose.
Every alleyway was a potential threat, every glance from a human a risk of exposure to the devils inhabiting Kuoh. Tosen kept his head down, his shoulders hunched, using the shadows cast by the afternoon sun as his cloak. Each step sent a fresh jolt of pain through his healing body, a constant reminder of his precarious state.
'I didn't even thank Master for healing me…' The thought was a needle of guilt pricking his conscience.
He had awoken in a panic, his instincts screaming at him to report, to move, to escape the unfamiliar territory. Now, with the cool air on his face, a sliver of regret surfaced.
'I will do it properly. When this matter is dealt with, I will return and express my gratitude as I should.'
Another thought, more hopeful this time, immediately followed.
'Maybe… maybe if Master helps us against this new threat, Lord Nurarihyon could be persuaded to forgive his past alliance with that devil. There could be a path to redemption…'
But the hope was quickly crushed under the weight of cold reality. 'No. He made his choice. He shook hands with Woland Sitri. He chose to work with them.'
The memory was a bitter pill.
'I'm sorry, Master. I should have been there. I should have been stronger. I could have offered you another path.'
The conflict was bith a physical and ideological ache in his chest, a war between the deep, enduring respect he held for his mentor and the ingrained, cultural disdain he harbored for all things devilish.
'Enough. Just focus on getting out of this town,' he commanded himself, pushing the tumultuous thoughts aside. His mission was clear: reach Nikko and report to Lord Nurarihyon.
It was then that a strange sensation drew his attention. He looked down at the palm of his hand. There, stark against his fur, was a symbol that had not been there before: a stark, black hook, as if branded into his skin. It throbbed with a faint, malevolent energy.
'What's this?' he wondered, his brow furrowing. He focused his supernatural senses on the mark, and a cold dread immediately washed over him.
It was a conduit, a beacon—a vile, invasive piece of magic that felt ancient and hungry.
'A curse!' The realization screamed in his mind. This was no ordinary affliction; it was a tracking spell, a hunter's brand. He had to remove it, and fast.
Purification was the only way. He needed a sacred space, a place where the natural energy of the land could counteract the unnatural darkness of the curse. His mind raced, recalling the layout of the town he had studied from his sickbed.
'There was a shrine… a shrine to Lady Inari near Master's new shop.' It was his best, his only chance. Without another moment's hesitation, Tosen abandoned his route to the town's outskirts.
His pace, once cautious and stealthy, became a pained, determined rush. He had to reach that shrine before whatever had placed this mark caught up with him.
Elsewhere in the town, another being was hunting. It moved with a lurching, unnatural gait, its form a blasphemy against the normalcy of a sunny afternoon.
It was a tall, gaunt figure, its arms grotesquely long and spindly, dangling past its knees and ending in hands with four razor-sharp talons each. Its body was wrapped in filthy, white tattered bandages, and a dark purple cape hung from its bony shoulders.
A heavy, opulent necklace of gleaming pearls and gems hung around its neck, clattering softly with its every movement. Its face was a death's head, a skeletal visage with only a few desiccated strips of flesh still clinging to the bone.
"Prize," it murmured, the word a dry, rasping sound like stones grinding together.
It slouched down the sidewalk, utterly invisible to the humans who flowed around it, some even walking through its insubstantial form without a flicker of awareness.
It left no physical mark on the world, but in its wake, faint, shimmering puddles of darkness stained the pavement before slowly evaporating.
The jangling of the many jewels it wore was a sound only those attuned to the supernatural could hear.
From the deep pockets of its ragged white trousers, held up by a golden belt encrusted with more glittering gems, bright, colorful marbles occasionally fell.
They didn't roll away; they hit the ground and dissolved into nothingness with a soft hiss, leaving behind a tiny, fleeting stain of void.
"Prize... Need to reclaim the fled prize," the figure intoned.
It stopped its shambling progress and violently shoved its right hand into its pocket, the limb sinking in far deeper than the pocket's dimensions should allow. When it withdrew its clawed hand, it held a single, ancient-looking coin.
"Prize... Come back to me," it crooned, holding the coin up to its empty eye sockets. One side of the coin depicted a bas-relief of a desperate, agonized Tosen, surrounded by a mountain of gold and glittering jewels.
The other side showed the same shisa, but he was smiling serenely in a desolate, empty room made of rusted iron. The figure rotated the coin, studying the smiling face.
"Prize needs to be harvested," it declared with finality. The coin vanished from its grasp, absorbed back into the nothingness from which it came. The creature resumed its slow, relentless slouch through Kuoh, a predator on an invisible leash.
However, not all who walked Kuoh's streets were blind. Tsubasa Yura, the tall, blue-haired Rook of Sona Sitri's peerage, was walking home after a long day of student council duties. Her sharp devil senses, attuned to magical anomalies, prickled.
She frowned, stopping mid-step. On the pavement before her was a faint, shimmering patch of darkness that seemed to drink the light around it. People were stepping on it and over it without a second glance, completely oblivious.
'What's this?' she thought, her instincts going on high alert. Her gaze followed the trail of evaporating dark puddles down the street, and that was when she saw it—the source.
The gaunt, bandaged, jewel-laden horror shambling aimlessly yet purposefully.
'Another monster? And… it's invisible?' Her fists clenched at her sides. A fierce, competitive fire ignited in her eyes. 'This is our chance! Gremory's group gets all the action, all the glory. The President might be fine with playing defense and logistics, but I'm not!'
The sight of the creature awoke an old, familiar impulse from her childhood—a time when she'd fought invisible monsters no one else could see, long before she'd met Sona and learned they were all too real.
She kept her distance, tailing the creature from the other side of the street, using the crowd as cover. Her hand dove into her pocket, pulling out her phone. She quickly dialed Sona's number.
The line picked up after two rings.
"Tsubasa? It's unusual for you to call after school hours. What's happening?" Sona's voice was calm but carried an immediate undercurrent of analytical concern. She could sense the tension in her Rook's silence.
"There's a monster walking through the city center," Tsubasa reported, her voice low. "It's not attacking anyone, but it's leaving a weird… trail. And the normal people can't see it. They're walking right through it."
From the other end of the line, Tsubasa heard a soft, weary sigh.
'What is happening in this town lately?' Sona pondered, her mind instantly cataloging the recent chaos: the first oni attack, the emergence of the terrifying "Shadow," the second oni, and now this.
"Keep your eyes on it and—" Sona began, then stopped abruptly. Her brilliant mind connected the dots with terrifying speed. Shadow Azazel.
He, too, had been visible only to supernatural beings. If this creature was manifesting a similar property without actively casting a concealment spell…
"Tsubasa!" Sona's voice was sharp, laced with a rare note of alarm that made the Rook's blood run cold. "Get away from there immediately! Do not engage! That thing is a Shadow!"
Tsubasa froze, the words hitting her like a physical blow. "You mean… like that thing, President?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper, the memory of the colossal, world-ending terror they had witnessed from a distance flooding back to her.
Sona's reply was a single, grave hum of confirmation. The message was clear: this was far beyond a simple monster hunt.
Back at the Whisper in the Breeze, Kegawa, now back in his human disguise, had burst out of the shop with Ryoji and Makoto close behind. The old man's face was a mask of frustration and worry.
"Sir, do you have any idea where he might have gone?" Ryoji asked, his usual cheerfulness subdued by the seriousness of the situation.
Kegawa shook his head, scanning the quiet street with a practiced eye. "He's stubborn and proud. He'll try to slip out of town without drawing attention to himself or to me. I just hope he's in good enough condition to actually manage it, but I severely doubt it." He snorted in frustration, angry at his student's reckless pride.
Inside Makoto's mind, a cheerful, heroic voice piped up. 'Universe! If we are searching for our new comrade, it will be my genuine pleasure to assist!' Robin Hood declared.
'Yes?' Makoto responded internally, not immediately grasping the Persona's intent.
'What is he suggesting? That we summon him to go scouting? A rather mundane task for a legend,' Apollo interjected with a dismissive puff.
'Do not start, Apollo,' Orpheus Telos chastised gently.
'Allow me to be your eyes! Together, we shall find our ally!' Robin Hood insisted, his enthusiasm undimmed by the bickering.
"Is he alright?" Kegawa asked Ryoji, noticing Makoto's sudden, distant expression.
"Oh, yes, he's fine," Ryoji chuckled, used to his friend's occasional lapses into internal conversations.
"Come on, we need to hurry," Ryoji urged.
As he spoke, Makoto blinked. His blue eyes flickered for a second, and then they began to shine with a soft, internal white light. The world sharpened, every detail snapping into hyper-focused clarity.
The sight was almost overwhelming; he could see the individual grains of wood on a distant fence, the minute scuff marks on a far-off streetlamp, the subtle disturbance of dust on a windowsill three stories up.
'Take care not to be overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of the world, Universe!' Robin Hood joked, though his power was no laughing matter.
'This is the sight of a true hunter, a protector of the people! A sight worthy of you!' the heroic outlaw proclaimed proudly.
Makoto's enhanced vision swept across the rooftops lining the street. There, almost imperceptible to anyone else, he saw them: faint scuff marks on the edge of a tiled roof, a slight displacement of moss, the subtle signs of something—or someone—clumsy and heavy moving across them in a hurry.
"He went over there," Makoto stated, pointing decisively toward the rooftops.
Kegawa followed his gaze, squinting his eyes. Even with his centuries of experience and honed yokai senses, he could barely make out the disturbances Makoto had so easily pinpointed.
"Even I struggle to see any trail there, and I was one of the best scouts in Lord Nurarihyon's service..." he muttered, a note of awe and confusion in his voice. He shook his head, deciding now was not the time to question the strange human's abilities.
"We better go," Ryoji said, his tone now all business.
Kegawa gave a grim nod of agreement. The trio set off, following the path only Makoto could see, a sense of urgent purpose driving them forward.