The Curse of Yukatari
What is misfortune?
A shadowed phenomenon—an unseen pattern of ruin and sorrow that clings to the living like smoke. Some say it is the work of fallen spirits, returning to curse those who wronged them. Others whisper that it is divine punishment, wrath from gods whose worshippers have strayed.
But the truth never mattered. People only ever needed someone to blame.
The villagers of Yukatari were no different. Once their land was rich and green, their harvests overflowing. Then came the rot. The fields blackened, animals died in droves, and death crept into every home. And each time tragedy struck, someone always noticed the same thing—
the child of the Enma family with eyes that glowed red.
Three years had passed since that day, and Yukatari's decay had only deepened. The villagers had slaughtered the boy's parents and locked him away in a shed with the dogs, hoping to drive the curse out of their land. Yet the soil remained dead, the sky forever gray.
---
"You want that brat?" The village leader asked, voice rough as gravel. Tanaka Genzo sat in his dim living room, sipping tea with wrinkled hands that had once commanded an entire village. He was nearing eighty, yet his gaze was sharp, predatory. For decades he had ruled Yukatari—quietly, ruthlessly—but nothing had unnerved him quite like these past three years.
The man across from him wore a black suit, clean and immaculate, a stranger among the rot.
"You want the boy?" Tanaka leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "What are you offering for him?"
He would not admit it, but his heart thrilled at the thought of getting rid of that cursed child once and for all. He hadn't dared kill the boy as he did his parents; superstition ran deep, and even Tanaka feared another wave of ruin. But giving the boy away… that was different.
The suited man gave a faint smile and placed a silver case on the table. When he opened it, the dim light caught the edges of stacked banknotes, neat and new. Over eight million US dollars—more wealth than Tanaka had ever dreamed of.
A tremor ran through the old man's hands. "Deal," he said quickly. "I'll take you to him."
---
They walked together through the outskirts of the village, where the earth turned black and brittle. The air stank of decay, corpses, and rotting crops. At the far end stood a shed, more kennel than shelter.
"I left the brat here," Tanaka muttered. "Didn't feed him for years. Yet he still lives."
He unlatched the door, and the stench rolled out. Inside, among half-dead dogs, sat a boy no older than ten—skin clinging to bone, his body frail but his eyes burning with crimson light.
Tanaka froze. That gaze always made his blood run cold. Each time he looked into those eyes, he felt death's breath on his neck.
"For one so young," the man in the suit murmured, stepping forward, "his cursed energy rivals that of many Grade Ones."
He ignored the dogs entirely, seized the boy by the arm, and led him outside.
"You'll make a fine candidate," he said softly.
Tanaka swallowed. "So that's it? The money's mine? You won't be coming back?"
"Keep it," the man replied, walking away with the child.
Only after the car disappeared down the dirt road did Tanaka exhale, his chest heavy with relief.
---
Back in his home, he found his eldest son and wife counting the cash with greedy delight.
"All this for that brat," the woman said, voice dripping with avarice. "We could've asked for more."
"Maybe that kid's worth more than we thought," her son added.
"I didn't dare," Tanaka muttered, sitting down. "Something about that man… he wasn't human. Best to end things quickly."
"With this kind of money," his son said, grinning, "we can finally leave this cursed place. Hmm, but after i get Hana"
Tanaka glared. "Haven't you had enough fun with the village girls? You'll end up cursed by that boy's mother."
At the mention, a chill traced his spine. He remembered all too well—the boy's father tortured, the mother handed over to his son for 'punishment.' Months of cruelty before death claimed them both. The boy had been next, until the cold started following Tanaka everywhere he went.
He frowned. That same chill was here again—thicker now, heavier.
"Father…"
"Honey…"
The tremor in their voices pulled his gaze up. The room had gone dark.
Their faces were pale, eyes wide with horror. Tanaka turned, his breath catching in his throat.
A beast loomed over him—a monstrous wolf, easily the height of two men, its fur shadow-black, its breath cold as winter. And its eyes… those same glowing red eyes.
The screams began before he could rise. The wolf's jaws opened wide, revealing rows of gleaming fangs.
Then came the tearing of flesh, the splatter of blood, the shattering of bones—and silence.
---
Far from the village, the black car rolled through the night. The suited man sat in the backseat beside the boy, who stared out the window, his red eyes reflecting the moonlight.
"Interesting," the man murmured.
---