Once upon a time, nestled between Japan's Aomori and Akita Prefectures, there lay a primeval forest. It was a place of intricate, deep valleys, thundering waterfalls, and a staggering variety of flora and fauna—a living museum of the wild.
The scenery was breathtaking, the air crisp and fresh. In a few hundred years, it would likely be designated a national treasure.
But in those days, such concepts didn't exist. To the people, the forest was a place to hunt and a source of wild fruits and vegetables. Yet, the deep woods were more than just a reservoir of resources; they held a hidden, primal danger.
Hanami was born here. As a cursed spirit manifested from humanity's fear of the forest, it differed from most of its kin. Though it possessed intelligence rivaling a human's, it could not speak, communicating instead through a form of telepathy.
Its voice was an ethereal, feminine sound—perhaps a symbol of the forest's gentler side.
Hanami did not enjoy slaughter. It did not seek out humans. It could converse effortlessly with any animal and took solace in its solitary life within the woods. The quiet air brought it a sense of profound contentment.
Since cursed spirits do not need to eat and are unburdened by the passage of time, Hanami lived alone in the forest for nearly a century. Occasionally, humans would stumble into the deep woods; Hanami would simply command the local wildlife to guide the lost travelers back to safety.
Over time, rumors began to spread.
Legend told of a spirit residing in the forest, invisible to the naked eye. It was said to be a friendly entity that provided bountiful food to the lost. Those who earned its favor were blessed with the skills needed to survive in the wild.
Regardless of the logic behind these tales, there was likely a "Window" among those it saved. Eventually, the descriptions coalesced into an image that bore a striking resemblance to Hanami's true form: ivory-white, mouthless, with branches where eyes should be. They called it the "White God." In time, the forest and the surrounding mountains came to be known as Shirakami-Sanchi—the Mountains of the White God.
"Tonight's dinner is up to me. Let's do this!"
A young boy, searching for mushrooms and wild greens, gave himself a pep talk. As the only male left in his family, he needed the skills to survive alone at the age of ten—a concept unimaginable in the highly developed modern age. But in the Japan of that era, most grown men had been conscripted for war. The boy's father had died on some distant battlefield; aside from his family, perhaps no one even remembered his name.
And his family had long since been forgotten by the world.
The boy's mother had died young. Years of constant conflict had made her terrified of living in populated areas, fearing for her children and herself. Taking the family's meager inheritance, she had chosen to live in the uninhabited depths of the forest.
In reality, it was just the forest's edge, near paths trodden by mountain folk. There, not far from the trail, she had built a small wooden hut for her two children.
Fortunately, the boy possessed a talent rare among men. He could identify poisonous mushrooms and herbs at a single glance. With his nimble hands, he set traps that frequently caught small game, allowing him and his younger sister to survive after their mother passed away.
The boy walked slowly through the woods, occasionally stooping to pluck a cluster of mushrooms or pushing aside obstructing brush—an action that took a great deal of his limited strength.
Hanami observed from a distance. This was a new sight. Usually, those who ventured this deep were either fearless madmen or seasoned hunters. It had never seen a human "cub" foraging alone.
Driven perhaps by curiosity, or perhaps a simple whim, Hanami followed at a distance. It watched as the small body maneuvered through the brambles, foraging until the boy eventually departed.
Hanami thought that would be the end of it. But barely two days later, they met again.
Perhaps this is fate, Hanami thought.
Maybe the boy was too frail, or maybe he was simply different from the humans Hanami had encountered before. His eyes held no confusion—only the courage to survive. Even the predators of the forest seemed to avoid him instinctively. Hanami became fascinated.
Days turned into months, and months into years. Hanami continued to watch as the boy gradually grew into a young man.
Finally, after five years had passed, the boy prepared to leave the deeper woods. Hanami watched him from its usual distance.
Suddenly, the boy turned around and prostrated himself on the ground, bowing deeply. "Lord Shirakami," he said earnestly, "thank you for always protecting me."
He can see me. Hanami realized the truth, but the title confused it. Shirakami... what is that?
"It is your name. Do you not go by Shirakami?" The boy asked, bowing again as the feminine voice echoed in his mind.
"My name... is Hanami," the spirit replied.
"Lord Shirakami... Lord Hanami. My name is—" The boy looked up, but the space before him was empty. He gathered his things and continued his journey home. "Right. My name isn't important to a being like Lord Hanami."
The boy believed he had survived through Hanami's protection, but Hanami knew the truth: it was the boy's own innate talent. It had nothing to do with the spirit.
Before long, the boy reached the age of twenty. Thanks to his mother's choice, he had avoided conscription. He continued to live there with his sister.
Ever since Hanami learned the boy could see it, its observations shifted from blatant to subtle. Though they did not meet face-to-face, the boy could always feel a gaze upon him. He knew it was Lord Hanami's watchful eye.
One day, the young man broke the unspoken silence once more. He called out Hanami's name of his own accord.
"Lord Hanami, I have found many companions. They wish to live here as well. We may need to fell some trees; I ask for your permission."
Hanami studied the man. The boyish softness had vanished, replaced by a light stubble. His body was still lean, but the clear courage in his eyes remained unchanged. "Very well. I permit it."
As the boy grew, his hunting skills improved. Occasionally, he would take pelts and meat to a distant town to sell in secret. As the years passed, many who heard of his lifestyle—people weary of the endless wars—sought him out. He decided to lead them in building a new home.
Hanami continued to observe. Gradually, its own existence began to overlap with this human. It no longer resided in the heart of the forest, but stayed near the newly established village.
And within its heart, a new, indescribable emotion began to brew.
Hanami didn't mind the villagers cutting timber or hunting; that was simply the cycle of nature. The young man had instructed his people that a guardian spirit lived in the woods. They were to take only what was necessary for survival and nothing more. For a forest of this size, the consumption of a few dozen people was a drop in the bucket.
The village flourished, and the boy became its head.
Laughter is always fleeting; silence is the true eternal.
The boy became a man, but the man never became an old one.
He died quite suddenly, leaving Hanami's questions unanswered.
There were no grand final words. In that era, given the harsh environment and lack of medicine, reaching fifty was considered a long life. The man's sister had led others into the woods to pray for Hanami's aid, but she lacked the potential to see curses. After multiple failed attempts, she eventually dismissed her brother's stories as a way to encourage the villagers.
Without their pillar of support, the village slowly fell into ruin. None possessed the man's unique skills to thrive there. The people gradually dispersed, seeking new paths to survival.
Hanami returned to the heart of the forest. But to its sorrow, it found it could no longer enjoy the stillness as it once had.
What had changed?
A century passed in a flash. Hanami felt something it couldn't comprehend: a loneliness that threatened to pierce its very soul.
Until one day, a volcano-headed entity in a spotted vest walked into the forest and found Hanami.
"My name is Jogo."
"Come with me. Let us build a world ruled by cursed spirits."
"Why fear death? It need not be me who stands on the wilderness a hundred years from now and laughs out loud."
Finally, Hanami understood. It understood what it had been observing, what had affected it, and what it truly needed. It needed comrades.
"Very well."
Hasegumo held Jogo's head in one hand. He hadn't killed him yet; he had simply instructed Yuta and the others to go support Nagasawa. He lifted Jogo's head, pulled his phone out with his right hand, and snapped a selfie. "Say cheese~"
As the flash went off, Hasegumo looked at the photo. The domineering fire in Jogo's single eye had vanished, replaced by a hollow blankness.
He tucked the phone away and sat cross-legged on the ground, placing Jogo's head in front of him.
Jogo spared him a glance before looking back up at the vast sky. It was a gaze of absolute despair. "What else do you want? To humiliate me?"
"Not at all." Hasegumo wagged a finger. He wasn't the type to be so malicious; he genuinely just wanted to chat. "Do you regret what happened today? Will you reflect on the sin of killing humans?"
"Say whatever you want. When you lose, everything you did becomes a mistake." Jogo sounded utterly drained.
Seeing the lack of cooperation, Hasegumo resorted to a threat. "Believe it or not, I'll take your head and soak it in a latrine for three days."
"...I won't regret it." Jogo caved instantly.
However, there was no hysterical madness or begging for mercy. Since you know you can kill me, and I know you can kill me, and our positions are irreconcilable... let's just talk. Then, whatever happens, happens.
"Is that so? I'm sure you realize by now that as a cursed spirit, you have no chance against me." Hasegumo spoke as he briefly manifested the golden Guanyin to prove he wasn't bluffing.
"So what? I admit I underestimated you." Jogo, ever the sucker for a provocation, began to argue loudly. "But the success of our cause doesn't depend on me alone. Even if I lose today, and even if you kill every curse in existence, what then?"
"As long as human malice exists, we will never truly perish. It is a rule written by the heavens! We, the curses, are the true masters of this world!"
"I have a friend named Suguru Geto," Hasegumo said slowly. "He's been researching some very interesting things. He's working on a way to use barrier techniques to absorb the cursed energy leaked by ordinary people, theoretically preventing the birth of curses at the source. Once his research is complete, we'll cover the world in barriers, and Satoru and I will go around killing every remaining curse. What do you think of that plan?"
Jogo's eye widened in shock, but he quickly composed himself. He thought of Kenjaku—a being of unfathomable power who possessed a human body but stood on the side of curses. Things wouldn't be as simple as Hasegumo claimed. "You won't succeed. My companions, my kin... they will never let that happen."
"So there really is a group of unknown curses with a specific objective acting together..." Hasegumo stroked his chin, looking thoughtful.
"!" Jogo realized the terrifying nature of humans. "You bastard! You were just baiting me for intel?!"
"So, what is your objective, exactly?" Hasegumo didn't answer, throwing out another question instead.
"..." Jogo shut his mouth. If he's going to throw me in a latrine, I'd rather use my last bit of energy to self-destruct than give him another word.
"It's probably something along the lines of wiping out humanity and letting curses rule the world," Hasegumo mused to himself. Seeing Jogo wasn't going to talk, he didn't push it. "But have you considered this: if humanity goes extinct, no new curses will ever be born."
"Wouldn't it be more logical to target sorcerers instead? Though, as long as I'm alive, you won't pull that off either. Give it up."
"You've killed a lot of people, haven't you? I can feel it. But I have some questions that have nothing to do with your 'cause'." Hasegumo looked Jogo in the eye. "Does killing make you stronger? Or do you get something out of it? Have you ever considered how the humans feel?"
"There's no benefit. But do you feel anything special when you step on an ant by the road?" Jogo shot back, annoyed by the naive line of questioning.
"I see." Despite the retort, Hasegumo remained calm. "Since you've killed, I can't justify letting you go."
"Actually, I've considered the possibility of completely eradicating curses before. But I've also met some who hold no hostility toward humans."
"Thinking about it, perhaps the heavens have a reason for allowing curses to exist. Since I want to show gratitude to the entire world, I've wondered what I can actually contribute."
"Helping a sapient race get the treatment they deserve... with my power, perhaps I can find a way for curses and humans to coexist."
"What?" Jogo stared at him. After all that, this man—with his "righteous" appearance—was actually thinking about betraying his own race to side with the enemy? "But among humans, you're the only one who thinks that way, right? Doesn't your friend want to wipe us out?"
"So what?" Hasegumo shook his head. "Being friends doesn't mean you have to agree on everything. Throughout human history, there have been plenty of friends who parted ways or even became enemies because their goals differed."
"Uh..." Jogo hadn't studied history. He couldn't argue.
"Since killing humans brings you no real benefit, it's likely you're just being influenced by the negative emotions within your cursed energy." Hasegumo had finally found someone he could speak his true thoughts to without holding back. Since he had already decided to kill Jogo, he wasn't worried about the uproar these "heretical" ideas would cause. "Even humans aren't born with a concept of good or evil. The things a child might do could be crueler than a curse, they just lack the power to see them through."
"The reason we can live in peace now is due to education and our environment. The main difference between curses and humans is the lack of 'legacy'."
Hasegumo got excited and pulled his phone out of his pocket again. "Do you know what this is?"
"A phone?" Jogo answered honestly, confused.
"Wrong. This is the crystallization of human wisdom."
Hasegumo was just about to give this illiterate curse a crash course on the history of the Third Industrial Revolution when the "crystallization of human wisdom" in his hand exploded.
The explosion was sudden and violent. Not only did it leave Hasegumo's face covered in soot, but it also completely shattered his train of thought. His already struggling brain momentarily went into a state of shock.
And at the exact moment he was "backstabbed" by his Samsung—
"Flower Field!"
Hanami's figure suddenly manifested behind him. As a Child of the Forest, and within a literal forest, Hanami's ability to conceal itself was peerless. Not even Hasegumo had detected its presence.
"Jogo, wait for me. I'm coming to save you!"
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