The old man's arms were warm, but they couldn't stop the cold growing inside Hitachi.
Even as he clung to his grandfather's words—"You're not alone"—something deeper inside him disagreed. It whispered otherwise. Something ancient. Something patient.
Later that night, after his grandfather had fallen asleep on the couch from exhaustion, Hitachi sat alone in his bedroom. The house was quiet, save for the occasional groan of old wood settling or the wind outside brushing past the broken window. But inside his head—there was no peace.
There never was.
He sat on the cold, dusty floor, knees to his chest, arms wrapped tightly around them. The moonlight painted the room in a pale, sickly blue. Everything felt distant. Muted. Like he was buried alive beneath water.
The voices hadn't gone away.
They were louder than ever.
He hadn't eaten all day. He couldn't. His stomach twisted in knots every time he tried. The whispers in his head had turned into screams. Voices that never stopped.
They clawed at his thoughts. They tore at his memories. They pressed against his skull like a hundred burning fingers trying to dig their way out from the inside.
"Let us in."
"You're weak."
"You don't belong here."
"We can help."
"He's watching."
"Break."
"BREAK."
"BREAK."
Hitachi pressed his hands over his ears, rocking back and forth, trying to drown them out. But the voices weren't outside. They were inside. In his bones. In his blood.
Tears streamed down his face, but he barely noticed. They had stopped meaning anything hours ago.
He had begged for help. Screamed into the walls. Cried until his throat was raw. Nothing changed.
His grandfather had left the house again—probably searching for some miracle cure, some answer to the sickness they didn't understand. But Hitachi didn't know if he would ever come back.
He felt abandoned. Empty. And worst of all—he was starting to understand the voices.
They weren't speaking nonsense anymore. They were making sense. Their words dug into his fears, his pain, his memories. They knew him. They were him.
His head throbbed as something moved beneath his skin. He could feel it—dark, thick, and cold. Like oil crawling through his veins.
Then he saw it.
It started at his fingertips. Little tendrils of black smoke curling upward from under his nails, dancing slowly in the air. It didn't feel hot. It felt wrong. Like breathing in grief. Like swallowing every horrible moment in his life all at once.
He gasped, staring at his hands as more smoke leaked from his skin—his arms, his shoulders, even his chest.
"No… no, no, what is this? What's happening to me?" he whispered, his voice shaking.
The shadows on the wall twitched.
He stumbled back, hitting the bedpost with a loud thud. He wanted to scream, but he couldn't. His throat locked up. His vision blurred. The voices were screaming now, overlapping each other like a thousand mouths pressed against his mind.
"DIE."
"SERVE."
"LET US OUT."
"UNLEASH IT."
"YOU ARE NOTHING."
"YOU ARE US."
He fell to the ground, hands digging into his hair, pulling at it desperately.
"STOP!" he cried out. "Please… please stop… please, I don't want this! I don't want this!"
Then—suddenly—silence.
So absolute it rang in his ears like a bell had just been struck.
All the voices vanished. The smoke paused mid-air. The air in the room grew thick, like the space around him had been swallowed.
And then it came.
A voice.
Not one of the screaming ones. Not part of the chaos. This one was… different.
It was deeper. Calmer. Older. It felt like it had been speaking long before the world even existed.
"Enough."
Hitachi froze. He didn't even breathe.
The voice filled the room like a presence—like something enormous was standing just outside his sight. Not watching him, but watching through him.
"You are breaking, Hitachi."
"Too soon. Too loud. They will destroy you."
His lips trembled. "Who… who are you?"
The air around him pulsed, the black smoke moving slowly like it was listening too.
"I am the first. The one they fear. I watched cities fall and kings beg. And I can end this pain."
The voice wasn't shouting. It wasn't trying to dominate him. It was calm. And somehow, that was even more terrifying.
Hitachi blinked, tears running down his face. "End it… how?"
"Let me in. Let me guide you. I will hold the chains of the others. I will quiet the storm. You will not hear another voice unless you choose to. I will teach you control. But you must say yes."
He stared at the floor, seeing nothing but the black fog surrounding his feet. "What if I say no?"
A pause.
Then—
"Then you will become one of them. And there will be no you left to save."
Hitachi felt like the air had been sucked from the room.
He looked around—no one was coming. No one would hear him. He was drowning in something no one else could see.
"I don't want to be a monster," he whispered.
The voice answered, quieter now.
"Then let me be the monster. You will be the cage. You will be the gate. Together, we will survive."
He couldn't speak. His throat was tight. His heart pounded so loud it hurt.
"I… I just want to see my grandfather."
The silence after that felt warm. Softer.
Then a whisper of energy passed through him. A gentle flicker in his chest, like a door unlocking.
And then—
"Hitachi?"
His grandfather's voice.
Faint. But real.
"Grandpa?" he gasped. "Grandpa, is that you!?"
"I'm here, I'm here, my boy. I don't know how I can hear you, but I can. What's happening? Are you alright!?"
Hitachi sobbed, louder now. "I'm scared. They won't stop talking. I—I think I'm going crazy."
"No, no, you're not. Hold on. Just hold on a little longer," his grandfather said, his voice cracking. "Please, just don't give up. I'm going to fix this. I swear it."
"I don't know how much longer I can take it…"
Then the demon spoke again, gently.
"Say yes, Hitachi. And you will never be alone again. I will give you strength. I will let you hold on to the ones you love. Say yes."
The black smoke around him moved closer now, swirling like it was waiting for his answer.
Hitachi stared at the ground.
Trembling. Crying. Lost.
But not hopeless.
He didn't answer yet.
But his lips parted. The words were forming.
The choice was near.
And the shadows waited.