Aiko didn't change her expression.
She slipped behind the counter, picked up the phone while shielding it with the receipt, and typed curtly:
Aiko: Steam, urgent.
Send. Immediately after, a call.
"Aiko?"
"Run to the restaurant. Now. There's something big in the dining room and… no one can see it!!"
"I'm coming! Five minutes. I'll tell Megumi and Nobara… don't do anything!"
Aiko hung up. She slipped the phone back into the rear pocket of her jeans and smiled at table three.
"Just a moment of patience, we're running a technical check."
She took the dining bell and rang it twice, clear and sharp.
"Ladies and gentlemen, our apologies: we have a problem with the steam system. For your safety, I kindly ask you to step outside for a moment. We'll be right back."
Her voice was steady, polite. It worked. The young couple stood up, the two gym-goers followed, grumbling a little and shaking their heads. Aiko's mother slid the door open, her father turned off two burners in the kitchen and shut the gas. Kazuma, already by the door, was handing out paper cups.
Left inside were Aiko, Kazuma… and him.
The man didn't move. He only shifted the glass slightly: the condensation left a dark trail, and he lifted his gaze to meet Aiko's eyes. His shadow, on the tatami, took a fraction too long to follow him.
Aiko stepped closer by half a pace, her body angled, her smile thin.
"Please, you too. You only need to step outside for a minute."
The man smiled too widely, showing his teeth. The tatami creaked beneath the chair. From the gaps in the floor, black threads began to rise, like ink or cuttlefish black, twisting together.
Kazuma took half a step behind her, ready but exposed. Aiko raised her hand without turning:
"It's fine."
The air grew colder and damper. Above the table, four gnats gathered into a single dark spot that seemed to move on its own.
The man's glass cracked in a spiderweb pattern. From the lower edge of the counter, a thick, dark drop trickled down—it didn't look like water.
The curse began to emerge.
The man turned the glass between his fingers, staring at it the way one stares at a yellowed photograph, rolling it slowly in his hand.
"You…" he said softly, "you look like my wife. When she was young." His smile stretched, hollow. "But...she's dead. I'd pay any price for one night. Don't be difficult. I want you."
Aiko stepped back half a pace, her tone cold and firm.
"No. Stand up, please. Go outside."
He shook his head, as if he hadn't heard.
"You don't understand. It's fate. You owe me something. Just one night…"
"I said no." Aiko's fingers clenched around the dish towel, her feet rooted to the floor.
Behind the man, the tatami gave a sharp sound — tok — and the light above the table dimmed as if it had been sucked away.
Something began to peel away from his shadow.
At first it was a dark, damp veil, hanging from the ceiling like mold. Then it took shape: it resembled the figure of a woman, but broken, disfigured, the face like sodden paper dripping away, long hair clinging like black seaweed. Wherever it passed, the wood swelled and cracked with faint groans; from the gaps in the floor, threads of ink crept upward, spreading wide before thinning again.
The air changed weight. It was no longer just the stench of a cellar: there was a cold that tightened the lungs and a low hum in the ears, like a space stripped of sound. The glass on table four bent without breaking, as if pressed by an invisible hand.
The curse tilted its head toward Aiko, a crooked smile carved where a mouth shouldn't have been. From the chandelier, the flies broke loose in a single cloud and swirled above its head, frantic.
"Out!!" Aiko repeated to the customer, without taking her eyes off the thing behind him."Now."
He didn't move.
"You… will you stay?"
The entrance's sliding door chimed at that moment, a sharp sound that cut through the hum.
Yuji burst in first, already running, his eyes searching for Aiko before anything else. Behind him, Megumi with his hand half-raised, ready to summon a shikigami; Nobara pulled the hammer from her belt as she kicked the door shut.
The stench of rotten ink grew stronger. The thing behind the man lifted its face toward them, toward Yuji, and smiled where no mouth should have been. The air bent. The flies compacted into a black crown above the monster's head.
"It's you," the thing whispered. The voice came at two different pitches. "You can have her. I can't."
A tentacle of black roots shot out under the tables. Yuji barely dodged, skidding, planting his fist on the floor to regain stance.
"Megumi!"
"Got it."
Megumi slammed his hands against the ground: Nue exploded from the shadow with an electric screech, lightning and dark feathers. The bolt split through the swarm of flies and the smell of burnt cellar mingled with ozone.
Nobara took three sidesteps on the damp tatami, hammer in hand.
"I'll hold the center."
Clack—clack—clack. The screws drove into the wood as if into an invisible mannequin. Straw Doll Technique: Hairpin.
The waves of force made the chandeliers tremble and the fluorescent lights above their heads flicker out.
The curse laughed with two mouths. From the ceiling dripped strands of wine that turned into arms.
"It isn't fair."
Three arms came down on Nobara; Yuji intercepted them: knee, elbow, elbow. The wine shattered like liquid glass, spraying outward and leaving black stains on the shōji.
For an instant, the man's shadow overlapped the creature's face: red eyes, the stench of rotting casks on its breath.
"She used to smile at me… until you came along."
"Couldn't be clearer," Nobara growled, driving another screw into the cracked slat, "a curse born of jealousy."
"Watch out!" Megumi pushed out half of Max Elephant, only the compressed water: a short wave that cut across the floor, washed away the coagulated wine and cleared a corridor. Yuji darted through the opening.
The curse shifted: from its torso opened mouths of moldy paper.
"Her hands in yours. Her hours. All yours."
A grapple of roots caught Yuji's ankle. He tore them off, the wood groaning beneath his feet, then a blow to his ribcage—he was thrown back, shoulder slamming against the counter. He spat a thin thread of blood into his mouth. Got back up.
"Hold the head still!" Yuji shouted to Nobara.
"With pleasure."
Resonance.
The screw quivered in the air and a ring of force clamped down on the creature's soft skull. Crack—the echo seemed to come from the back of the cellar.
The curse screamed in double voice and collapsed into a flat shadow that slithered toward Yuji like an oil stain.
"If you had never existed…"
From the floor, needles of ink erupted upward, a black rose of thorns.
Yuji stepped—an instant too slow. The thorns bit into his side, twisted him, flung him down behind table four. His breath snapped short.
Megumi leapt, the Divine Dogs tearing through a crest of roots to clear space.
The sliding door burst open: Aiko rushed back in. She saw Yuji behind the table, his side drenched in sweat, eyes still sharp but clouded. She slid down beside him, her hands on his face.
"Yuji! Breathe with me. One—two—"
She lifted her gaze over his shoulder. The curse, enormous, rose again like a soaked sail. Nobara and Megumi were holding their ground, yes, but the wood was giving way, the ceiling groaning. Aiko had no more minutes left to spend.
The bell slipped into her hand. Two clear chimes cut through the air.
The ink beneath Yuji's skin pulsed. The scars lifted like fresh charcoal. The air grew heavy.
His eyes opened—not Yuji's. The smile was not his.
Sukuna surfaced in the flesh.
Aiko didn't flinch. "Help me. Now, please!"
The grin widened slightly. The voice dropped like iron into a well.
"I told you the place and the time, woman. Respect the bargain. You want my hand? First offer your body to me. It will be quick."
"There's no time," Aiko spat, teeth clenched as the ceiling shed dust. "It's now or nothing."
Sukuna laughed, low and filthy, as if tasting the danger on his tongue. "Then nothing."
The scars faded like ink washed away. His face eased, the host surfaced again.
"Yuji!" Aiko shook him, brought her breath close. "With me. Now."
Yuji coughed, ripped in a breath, saw the black mass advancing. Megumi raised his hand:
"I've got a ten-second window!"
Nobara drove the last screw with a scream. "Close this damned cellar!"
Yuji pressed his hand to the ground. One beat, two. The world slowed. "Let's go."
The restaurant seemed to tilt toward the monster. The swollen tatami, the beams groaning, the dark wine trailing down from the chandeliers like rain falling upward. Yuji pushed himself up, teeth clenched.
"Hold it still for three seconds."
"Two I can guarantee," said Megumi, already in shadow. His fingers touched the floor: Nue plunged down, an azure flash shredding through the swarm of flies; the scent of ozone peeled a layer of dampness from the creature. The Divine Dogs leapt between tables, ripping apart the ink-root tendrils that reached for Yuji's ankles.
Nobara advanced at an angle, hammer low.
"Aiko said he tossed coins on the counter, right? Objects that buy, that bind."
She smirked sideways, pulled from the receipt a small metal token stained with wine left by the customer.
"Perfect."
Clack—the first screw driven into the wood, the straw doll tied to the coin. "Resonance."
The monster's body convulsed as if stabbed from within; on its slimy chest a darker circle appeared: the core rose just beneath the surface, like an eye struggling to break through. The "woman's" face split in two lines and screamed with two voices.
"Now!" Megumi shouted.
Max Elephant didn't fully materialize: only a blast of compressed water that washed away the coagulated wine and revealed scales of mold like armor. Nue swooped back down, charging the puddle with electricity: the mold crackled, the core throbbed in plain sight.
Yuji took the corridor Megumi had opened for him. The floor was slick, his soles grasping for traction. His side burned where the thorns had pierced him, but the rhythm inside him grew simple: step, breath, strike.
"Hold it there, Kugisaki!"
Nobara pinned the coin with two more strikes, the chain of her ritual locking shut.
"With pleasure. Hairpin."
The shockwave made the curse stagger: the core, the size of a fist, rose beneath its "collarbone."
For an instant, the shadow of the man overlapped its rotting face: eyes glistening with rancor. "If you didn't exist…" the creature snarled at Yuji.
The ink beneath Yuji's skin shuddered, as if wanting to answer with a grin. Not today. Sukuna was gone: he had laughed, demanded the pact, withdrawn. No crutch. No hand from the abyss.
"Enough talking," Yuji said quietly.
He took half a step, pressed his fingers to his chest, found the rhythm. The hum of the room dropped, the world tightened. The moment aligned on a razor's edge. His fist moved.
Black Flash.
The air folded with a sharp crack, light and impact falling together on the exposed core. The curse's chest caved inward; the black wine shattered in glossy shards, then vanished in the stench of ozone and burnt ink.
Megumi drove his heel into the shadow and dragged down the last fleeing tentacle. "Finish it."
Nobara was already there: screw to the wood, hammer high. "Resonance."
The core burst in a radial crack. The creature unraveled at the edges, into dark threads and smoke slipping between the planks. The restaurant stopped sweating; the flies fell to the ground like ash. The crack in the glass sealed shut with a faint chime.
Silence. Only breathing, and the faint scent of broth in the distance.
Yuji stood for a moment with his fist still forward, then lowered his aching shoulder. He looked at Megumi, then Nobara. A nod.
"Thanks."
"Don't let it go to your head," Nobara huffed, but a half-smile rose in her eyes.
Megumi picked up the coin, still warm and dropped it into a glass. "It was tied to the idea of buying. You broke it."
Yuji drew in a deep breath. Beneath his skin, the ink fell silent. No hand from the abyss: pact unfulfilled, no favor given. That was fine. Today, it had to be him.
The sliding door opened quietly. Aiko came back in again: outside, customers with paper cups and wide eyes; inside, the dining room almost normal again. She saw the floor dry, the smell of broth reclaiming the air from dampness; then she saw Yuji—standing, sweaty, his side stained but upright.
She walked toward him without running. Stopped a step away.
Yuji gave a faint, tired smile.
"It's over."
Aiko nodded, took his hand for an instant—brief, hidden—and let it go.
Outside, her father lit the sign again. Inside, Nobara gathered the screws and Megumi sealed the shadows.
The Tramonto Rosso drew a breath and went back to work.
***
5:30 p.m. The bell tolls, the host bends, and I rise again.
She is there. Tired gaze, light extinguished… yet beneath, I see the living ember: wrath. I feel it like a scent. The higher it burns, the more it kindles my ancient blood.
She offers the tribute. A dark veil, folded with care. No trembling. Good.
I smile—the host's face splitting into my grin. "Obey."
I open the mouth on the belly: the scars lift, teeth black as obsidian. The air tastes of ink and iron. The banner slides inside, kept within my domain.
I look at her. She does not step back. Rage tightens her throat, and it feeds me.
I take a step, as much as I am allowed and hold her within the range of my gaze.
"Come," I murmur, low, venomous. "Offer yourself. Let your King remind you who sits on the throne of this flesh."
"No." Her voice comes out clipped, without tremor. "Not after today."
I laugh. A laugh that claws at the walls. "It turns you on to hate me, woman. I see you pulse. The more you curse me, the more I want you."
She lifts her chin, her eyes steady in mine. "You only wanted me so you could humiliate me. And you didn't lift a finger when it mattered. You called 'little one' a special curse. Liar."
The grin widens. "Liar?" The word slides off my tongue like spoiled honey. "I speak by my own measure, not yours. 'Little' to me, ruin to you. And I did nothing because I wanted to see if the host deserved its flesh." I tilt my head, fierce. "It struck. He won. I enjoyed it."
Her hands clench, but she does not step back. Desire bites under my skin—not sweetness: prey that bites.
I close the distance the bonds of flesh allow. "Once more: bow, call me properly, and I will open gates your boy doesn't even dream of."
"I said no." The cold in her voice makes me laugh harder. "And remember: today you lied."
"I decide what is true here." The scars tremble, the room drops a finger. "I can't touch you as I want right now—the window is word and gaze, not hand. But the day will come when you will knock on the right side."
She does not avert her eyes. Her anger both sates and starves me. "Then it won't be today."
I give a cruel, lopsided smile. "No. Today you paid. I took...and you belong to me a little more."
The laugh falls dark, sepulchral. "At the next window, woman. Bring more fire… or bring surrender."
I ebb back into the flesh, leaving on her the smell of burnt ink and the certainty that my gaze does not forget.