"Feeling better already? No need to rush—you can rest a little longer."
A voice, somewhat deep and resonant, sounded abruptly beside Hinako Shimizu's ear. Her whole body went rigid; she tensed at once, eyes darting warily around her.
The darkness behind her remained thick as ink. The altar, above and below, stood utterly empty—only the flames of two andon flickered gently. Whoever owned that voice seemed to be a phantom hidden within the void itself; not a trace of them could be found.
"Who's there? Who are you?! Come out! Stop playing these ghost tricks!"
Hinako's voice cracked out sharply, the sound striking faint echoes through the dead-silent space. All that answered her was silence.
She drew a deep breath, pressing down the fright churning inside her, and set her face into a look of resolve.
"There's nothing to be afraid of! No matter how powerful the fox spirit is, it couldn't have spirited me away from Ultraseven's side without him noticing. Ultraseven has to be looking for me! It won't be long before he's at my side again."
Hinako clenched her fists tight, as if bracing herself.
Giant of Light, hero of every child, destroyer of monsters, protector of humankind—as long as Ultraseven existed, what was some fox spirit skulking in the shadows playing at ghosts and gods?
Ultraseven would never abandon humanity. He had to be searching for her right now—and what she needed to do wasn't cower here trembling, but face the darkness head-on and refuse to bow to evil.
Hinako looked toward the altar standing in the faint light and walked toward it with steady steps.
She climbed the altar step by step, her gaze sweeping across the shrine table, where she spotted a sheet of yellowed washi paper.
"Those whose hearts are not at peace are unfit for this auspicious day. Keep your heart calm and even, revere the gods and honor your ancestors, and celebrate this blessed day. A troubled heart is defilement itself. Offer the proper tribute at the thousand altars, and cast the defilement away."
Hinako picked up the paper. The moment she made out the words and read them aloud, she froze.
Then, in the next breath, fury twisted into a bitter laugh.
"Ha? Auspicious day? Cast away defilement?"
She practically forced the words out through gritted teeth, her chest heaving, her shoulders trembling faintly, her eyes reddening.
A raging fury surged up from somewhere deep inside her, like a fire catching all at once.
They'd killed Sakuko. They'd trapped them all in this ghost-ridden world. And yet this called it some auspicious day! Called her troubled heart defilement?
"You monsters!"
Long-suppressed rage curdled into something close to killing intent. Hinako tore the washi paper to shreds.
That wasn't enough. She swept her arm across the shrine table—the neatly stacked ofuda talismans went flying, the white porcelain sake dish shattered against the stone, sake spilling across the cold surface, plump white rice grains scattering everywhere, the green hisakaki branch flung hard enough to strike the seated fox-spirit statue before rolling away.
"Who would ever revere a monster like you? Who would ever offer tribute to something like you?!"
Hinako screamed the words, leaving the shrine table in wreckage.
It was then that a long, drawn-out sigh drifted in from nowhere she could place. There was no anger in it, no malice—only a thick weight of worry.
The instant the sigh faded, the flames of the andon on either side of the altar guttered violently, their warm golden glow turning cold in a heartbeat.
There was no wind to speak of, and yet the paper shades of the lanterns rattled and snapped as if buffeted by a gale, the light flickering unsteadily.
At the same time, the thick darkness that had been coiled at the back of the space began to writhe.
As if pushed by unseen hands, it crept slowly toward the altar, swallowing what little light remained. The warm glow of the tall andon, which had once reached out ten-odd meters, now shrank to barely three or five—and it kept contracting, visibly, before her eyes.
Strange sounds came with it.
The scrape of limbs dragging across stone flagstones, the shrill screech of metal being dragged over the floor, the heavy thud of footsteps—all closing in from every direction in the darkness, impossible to pin down to any single point, pressing down on Hinako with crushing weight.
Hinako spun around, her eyes sweeping the sides of the altar before locking onto the thick darkness ahead. Her face drained pale, cold sweat beading on her forehead. The fury she'd just vented had turned entirely into sharp wariness and unease; her temples throbbed, her head swelling with a dull ache.
Her right hand crept into her pocket without her meaning it to and pulled out a small medicine bottle.
She twisted the cap open on reflex and shook two red capsules into her palm—the headache medicine Shu had made for her—about to take them and dull the pain.
But with her hand raised halfway to her mouth, she stopped.
The two red capsules sat on her fingertips, catching the lantern's faint light with a dull sheen—like two drops of clotted blood.
Over these past years, every time her parents' pressure left her breathless, every time stress split her head with pain, these tiny capsules had pushed the suffering back down. They'd become her only lifeline.
But right now, the capsules on her fingertips suddenly felt wrong—rough, almost painful to hold.
Amamiya Rin's figure flashed unbidden before her eyes—that towering form he'd taken as the Giant of Light.
When the sea of red spider lilies had spread endless across the ground, Ultraseven had appeared out of nowhere like an unbreakable wall, shielding everyone from the ravages of that evil power.
Beneath a light that never dimmed, even the thickest evil would be burned away, clean and whole.
Hinako's breathing slowly steadied. She lowered the hand holding the medicine and pressed her capsule-clutching fist gently against her chest.
Her heart beat strong beneath her palm, a warmth surging through her chest—a clear, clean kind of warmth.
No—it wasn't just warmth. It was something closer to being moved, a kind of will, a kind of conviction.
A refusal to bow to pressure, a refusal to bow to pain. Courage. Fighting spirit. Resolve.
Hinako felt, quite tangibly, as though the power of light had wrapped itself around her heart, smoothing the throbbing ache at her temples, chasing away the fog and unease clouding her mind.
She drew a deep breath, tipped the two capsules back into the bottle, twisted the cap shut with a click, and shoved the bottle firmly back into her uniform pocket.
She couldn't retreat here. She couldn't numb herself with medicine, not now!
Headache or fear, whichever it was—if she couldn't endure even this much, how could she possibly hold out until Mr. Ultraseven found her?
When Hinako looked back at the thick darkness, every trace of panic had drained from her eyes, leaving only a firm and unyielding fighting spirit.
The scraping, the screeching, the footfalls kept pouring in from every direction—but she didn't retreat a single step. Instead she walked to the edge of the shrine table and reached out to grab the pole of the tall standing lantern.
"No. I won't be afraid of you."
She would hold on with sheer will until the light arrived.
Until then, she wouldn't give up easily—no matter what, she'd fight with everything she had.
She gripped the beech-wood lantern pole—thick as her forearm—with both hands, planted her right foot against a raised edge of the floor, and pulled up hard, driving the force through her core and arms together.
With a muffled crack, the pole tore free from its mounting on the altar, wood shavings from the base scattering across the floor.
The pole was heavy, but Hinako had been on the track team—this much was nothing she couldn't handle.
Within only a few breaths, the boundless darkness had swallowed the whole space entirely—even the seated fox-spirit statue behind her vanished without a trace. Only the lantern in Hinako's hand still gave off its faint, flickering light.
The candle flame shuddered wildly with her ragged breathing, stretching her shadow long and warped, casting it into the darkness behind her like another beast crouched and ready to spring.
"Rrrraaargh—!"
A grotesque howl tore through the air, metal scraping over stone right behind it, and a blurred shape lunged out of the dark. Hinako swung the lantern pole up on reflex, catching a thick, powerful arm as it slammed down at her.
The sheer brute force of the blow sent a shudder through her whole body, forcing her back half a step. In the lantern's light, the attacking monster's shape came into view.
It looked like some reptile forced upright, its body hunched like a wild dog's, its face and chest hollowed out entirely, leaving nothing but a black, gaping cavity. Rotting gray flesh hung off its bones, flaking away with every lurching step.
A rusted-solid bronze lock hung around its neck, and blackened iron shackles bound its wrists and ankles, dragging across the stone with a harsh, clattering rasp.
Face to face with her now, the monster let out a rasping wheeze from its throat—like wind pouring through a hollow shell—and breathed out a stench of decay.
"Just—die already!"
Her heart hammered as she faced the ghastly thing head-on, her mind burning hot, a surge of strength rising from somewhere she couldn't name. She stepped back hard, twisted at the waist, and swung the lantern pole with both hands, driving the force of her whole body into a brutal sweep at Kamugara's flank.
"Crack—!"
With a heavy thud, the cast-iron shaft of the pole slammed solidly into the monster's side. The rotting flesh caved in on impact, and its ribs snapped with a sharp crack. The faceless thing was knocked sideways off its feet, crashing hard onto the floor.
Hinako didn't let up. Eyes red, she raised the pole and charged forward, bringing it down on the monster's skull as hard as pounding mochi.
The dull crash of impact rang out through the darkness. The moment the monster tried to rise, she struck it back down, pressing her advantage with blow after blow.
"Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!"
One strike, two, three, four—
On the first, the monster's struggling grew violent.
On the second, its movements began to slow.
On the third, its blank skull caved in at one point, dark yellow pus seeping from the crack.
On the fourth, its head burst apart entirely, like a watermelon smashed open.
The vicious creature collapsed to the ground and moved no more.
Hinako gasped for breath, her hands trembling faintly around the pole, her heart slamming against her ribs as if trying to break free.
But the fight was far from over.
The violent swinging during the fight had sent the candle flame swaying wildly, scattering sparks onto the paper shade and burning tiny black holes through it. Flame crept silently up along the paper's edge, and in an instant the shade was wrapped in orange-red tongues of fire—flaring several times brighter, flickering ever more violently. By that unsteady light, Hinako saw another shape lunge out of the darkness to her left.
This monster had a stitched-together body like the doll-thing from before, its joints stiff, its movements unnatural. But its face was hidden behind a mask painted with an eerie smile, the corners of the mouth curled up into a crescent-moon arc, the eyes reduced to two pitch-black hollows—empty, holding nothing at all.
In place of feet, it had two long, narrow blades, each roughly thirty centimeters long, their edges glinting with a cold light—like two short swords welded fast to its legs.
When it walked, the blades scraped against the floor with an ear-splitting metallic screech, the sound alone enough to raise gooseflesh.
Hinako took an involuntary half-step back, her grip on the pole tightening further.
As if sensing it had been spotted, the doll-thing suddenly picked up speed, its body pitching forward as its right leg snapped out in a vicious kick.
The blade welded to its foot cut through the air with a whistling shriek, sweeping straight for her midsection.
Hinako's pupils contracted; she threw herself backward almost on pure instinct.
The blade grazed past her stomach, slicing away a strip of fabric and baring the pale skin beneath. A red line appeared instantly, splitting open into a jagged wound as she moved, bright blood welling up from the cut.
She staggered but caught her footing—only to find the monster already retracting its right leg, its left already sweeping in for another strike.
This time, though, Hinako didn't retreat.
She raised the pole and brought it down hard against the incoming blade.
"Clang—!"
The sharp ring of metal against metal cracked through the darkness as the pole's shaft met the blade head-on. The impact numbed the web of her hand, but she held on, refusing to let go.
The blow knocked the monster's left leg swinging backward, throwing it off balance and staggering it a step to the side.
Now!
"Go down!"
Hinako gritted her teeth, raised the pole with both hands, and drove it forward at the monster's chest with everything she had.
The tip of the pole slammed into its chest, sending the stiff body toppling backward. She pressed the advantage, gripping the pole in both hands and swinging it like a baseball bat, bringing it down hard on that mask with its eerie grin.
"Crack—!!!"
The mask shattered on impact, fragments scattering, revealing a hollow, featureless face beneath.
"Die! Die! Die!"
Hinako showed no mercy. Snarling, she swung the pole with both hands, striking left and right in a relentless barrage against the Harai Katashiro's head. By the end, she'd lost count of how many blows she'd landed—until the stiff body finally toppled backward and didn't rise again.
Hinako gasped for air, the wound on her stomach still bleeding, the skin at the web of her hand split from the repeated impact. But she had no intention of loosening her grip on the pole. Eyes bloodshot, she glared into the surrounding darkness. The lantern's flame couldn't drive back all the shadows, but she could hear it, could feel it—the enemy hadn't vanished. Somewhere out in that darkness beyond her reach, an unknown number of monsters still lurked, watching her with hungry eyes.
____
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