The moon's surface stretched endlessly, cold and silent under the distant Earth's glow. Craters cast long shadows across the grey expanse, and the only light came from the stars and the pale blue orb hanging in the sky.
Kamo Itsuki stood at the edge of the protective Barrier he had erected, watching the great cursed womb pulse with increasing intensity. For hours—had it been hours? Time moved strangely here—he had observed. Waited. Prepared.
Blood God had tried everything. Every slash, every technique, every angle of attack. The womb's Barrier absorbed it all, remaining impenetrable, indifferent.
So Kamo had recalled his Shikigami, set up his own defenses, and settled in to watch.
'Whatever Kenjaku created, it will hatch soon. And then...'
The crack was not loud. It was not dramatic. It was a simple, quiet snap—like an eggshell breaking, like ice giving way underfoot.
Light poured from the fissure. Not harsh, not blinding, but soft—silver and gold, moonlight and starlight, the accumulated cursed energy of millions condensed into radiance.
The shell split further. A hand emerged—slender, pale, perfect. Then an arm. Then a shoulder, a face, a body.
He rose from the womb's remains like a dream taking form.
His beauty was almost painful to behold.
Genderless, ageless, his features carved by an artist who had no reference for imperfection. Skin that seemed to glow from within, catching the starlight and holding it. Hair the color of molten silver, cascading past his shoulders, shimmering with every slight movement.
He stood naked on the lunar surface, untouched by the cold, unbothered by the vacuum, as if the moon's hostility was merely a suggestion.
His eyes opened.
They were deep—darker than any Kamo Itsuki had seen. Not black, but the absence of light, the presence of something beyond. They swept across the lunar landscape, taking in the craters, the shadows, the distant Earth.
And they found Kamo Itsuki.
The creature—the person—the being—tilted its head. Curiosity, not aggression. Wonder, not hunger.
"Who are you?"
Its voice was soft, melodic, carrying an accent that belonged to no nation and every nation.
Kamo Itsuki did not answer immediately. He was analyzing, cataloging, comparing this being to everything he knew about Cursed Spirits, about humans, about the space between.
'Not a Cursed Spirit. Not entirely human. Something new.'
"You should introduce yourself before asking for someone else's name," he said finally. "So. Who are you?"
The being considered this. Nodded slowly, as if the logic pleased it.
"That seems fair. Then... my surname will be Suzuki. My name will be Yu." A pause, a smile that lit its features. "Hello. My name is Suzuki Yu. Please guide me."
'He named himself. Immediately. Without hesitation.'
Kamo filed that information away. "Kamo Itsuki."
Suzuki Yu looked down at himself, at his bare skin, and a flush of color rose to his cheeks—embarrassment, a very human emotion.
"Do you have spare clothes? I feel... impolite like this."
Kamo produced a standard Kamo Clan uniform from his storage—meant for puppets, but it would serve. He walked forward, handed it over, and as Yu dressed, he collected.
A single drop of blood, drawn without notice, absorbed into Kamo's body for immediate analysis.
'Cellular structure similar to humans. Cursed energy density off the charts. Something else, too—something I can't identify.'
"Thank you." Yu finished dressing, examined himself, nodded approval. Then he turned and began walking.
Kamo's hand shot out, stopping him. "Where are you going?"
Yu looked back, genuinely puzzled. "I don't know. I just feel like wandering. Do you want to come with me?"
'He's... curious. Not hostile. Not yet.'
"I'm afraid there's no time for that."
"Oh." Yu's expression fell, just slightly. "Then I'll wander by myself."
"Perhaps I wasn't precise enough." Kamo's voice hardened. "It's not just me. You also don't have the time."
Yu's head tilted again, bird-like, curious. "Why?"
"Do you know where you came from?"
"No. I was just born. My memory begins when I first saw you. Nothing before." He paused. "Do you know where I came from?"
"Yes." Kamo's gaze was steady. "And that's exactly why we don't have time to wander."
When Kenjaku had corrupted the super barrier, Kamo Itsuki had not been idle.
He had analyzed the modified rules, sampled the unconscious, and reached a conclusion that turned his blood cold.
Kenjaku had extracted the seven corporeal souls of every ordinary person in Japan—the physical essence that anchored them to the world—and used them to create Suzuki Yu. What remained were the three spiritual souls, enough to sustain life, but not enough to wake.
Kamo's guardian barriers could prolong this state. Could keep the sleeping millions alive for days, weeks, perhaps even months.
But not forever.
And the solution—the only solution—stood before him, dressed in borrowed clothes, looking at the Earth with wonder in its eyes.
"I need your help," Kamo said.
Yu turned back, his silver hair catching the starlight. "My help? For what?"
"To save millions of lives." Kamo met his gaze. "Including the ones who made your existence possible."
Yu was silent for a long moment. Then he smiled—warm, genuine, achingly human.
"Then tell me what to do."
Kamo Itsuki laid out the truth with clinical precision.
By using Suzuki Yu as the core, and reversing the Barrier Technique Kenjaku had corrupted, the seven corporeal souls of every Japanese citizen could be restored. Guided by their respective life souls, these corporeal souls would return to their original bodies. The unconscious would wake. The crisis would end.
He explained it all—the mechanics, the risks, the necessity. Suzuki Yu listened without interrupting, his silver hair drifting in the moon's low gravity, his dark eyes fixed on Kamo's face.
When Kamo finished, Yu was silent for a moment.
"If I do what you say..." His voice was soft, almost wondering. "What will happen to me?"
Kamo did not hesitate. "You will die."
Yu looked down at his hands—the hands that had been alive for less than an hour, that had touched fabric and felt its texture, that had reached out to a world he was only beginning to discover.
"I've only just been born," he said quietly. "And you want me to sacrifice my life?"
Kamo's expression did not change. "I know this is cruel. But you were created by sacrificing all of Japan's people. Their lives, their souls, their very existence—it was all taken to make you."
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle.
"Ultimately, you should not exist. Between you and all of Japan's people, I must make a choice."
Yu raised his head. His dark eyes met Kamo's.
"Is that so?" A small smile touched his lips—not bitter, not resigned, but almost... peaceful. "What you say makes sense. Then let's do as you say."
Kamo blinked.
'He agreed. Just like that.'
His mind raced, analyzing, searching for deception, for hidden motive, for any sign that Suzuki Yu was playing a longer game. The being before him was formed from the seven corporeal souls of millions—the aspects that governed joy, anger, sorrow, fear, love, hate, and desire. For him to have formed a stable personality, one of these emotions must have achieved dominance.
Kamo considered the social climate of Japan. The suicides. The isolation. The quiet desperation that filled the crowded cities and empty countryside.
'Too many people don't want to live. That will... that will has become his will.'
The conclusion was so bleak that even Kamo Itsuki, who had seen the worst of humanity, hesitated to accept it.
But it was the only explanation that fit.
'He agrees to die because the people who made him are already dead inside.'
He pushed the thought aside. Whatever Suzuki Yu's reasons, whatever the truth of his existence, Kamo's duty was clear.
"Then please wait for me a moment." He began preparing the Barrier—the reversal of Kenjaku's corrupted technique, the careful calibration required to restore millions of souls without causing further harm. "When I'm ready, you will stand at the core. You will not need to do anything. I will try to ensure you feel no pain."
Yu nodded, settling onto a nearby rock, watching Kamo work with quiet curiosity.
"Kamo Itsuki," he said after a while.
Kamo did not look up. "Yes?"
"Thank you. For telling me the truth. For not pretending." Yu's voice was calm, accepting. "I think... I would have preferred to live. To see more of this world. But I understand why I can't."
His gaze drifted to the distant Earth, blue and beautiful, hanging in the black sky.
"It's a beautiful world, isn't it? Even from here."
Kamo paused, looking up at the planet that held everyone he had ever known.
"Yes," he said. "It is."
He returned to his work. There was no time for sentiment. Millions of lives hung in the balance.
And one life, barely begun, was about to end.