The forest became a blur of dark trunks and whipping branches. Yuki ran, fueled by adrenaline and the chilling image of the obsidian sanctum etched into his mind. The exorcist's pursuit was relentless, the pure light from its rod cutting through the gloom behind him, a beacon of hostile intent. He dodged, weaved, used the terrain, but the exorcist matched him turn for turn, its movements economical and deadly.
He burst out of the tree line onto a narrow mountain road. A lone car, its headlights cutting through the twilight, was approaching. Desperation overrode caution. Yuki stumbled into the middle of the road, waving his arms.
The car screeched to a halt, tires smoking. The driver, a middle-aged man with a face etched with fatigue, leaned out the window. "Hey! Are you crazy? Get off the road!"
"Please!" Yuki gasped, his voice ragged. "You have to help me! Someone's chasing me! They have a weapon!"
The man's eyes widened, taking in Yuki's disheveled state, the makeshift bandages on his arms. He hesitated for a split second, then yelled, "Get in!"
Yuki yanked the door open and threw himself into the passenger seat just as the exorcist emerged from the forest edge. The man floored the accelerator. The car fishtailed, then shot forward.
Yuki risked a glance back. The exorcist stood in the middle of the road, silhouetted against the dying light. It raised the etched rod. Pure light lashed out, not at the car, but at the road ahead.
A section of asphalt exploded upwards in a shower of debris. The car swerved violently, the driver cursing as he fought for control. They careened past the gaping hole, the car rocking on its suspension.
"Jesus Christ!" the man yelled, his knuckles white on the wheel. "What the hell was that? Who is that guy?"
"I don't know!" Yuki lied, his heart hammering. "Just… just drive! Please!"
The man drove, glancing nervously in the rearview mirror. The exorcist didn't follow the car on foot. It simply stood there, watching them disappear into the darkness, its form a dark silhouette against the forest. But Yuki knew it wasn't over. The exorcist knew he had the car. It would find another way.
They drove in silence for several minutes, the only sounds the engine and the driver's ragged breathing. Finally, the man spoke, his voice tight with fear. "Look, kid… I dropped you at the first gas station I see. That's it. Understand? This is way too much trouble."
Yuki nodded mutely. He understood. He was trouble. A magnet for horror. He put good people at risk just by being near them.
The gas station was a brightly lit oasis in the mountain darkness. The man pulled up to a pump. "Here. Get out."
Yuki opened the door. "Thank you," he said, the words feeling inadequate.
The man didn't respond, just watched him with wary eyes until he was clear of the car, then sped away.
Yuki stood alone under the harsh fluorescent lights, feeling exposed and vulnerable. He needed to contact Aoi. To warn her. To… what? Say goodbye? The thought was a cold stone in his gut. He found a payphone near the station's mini-mart.
He dialed her number from memory. It rang twice before she picked up.
"Yuki-kun?" Her voice was warm, relieved. "Where are you? Are you okay?"
"Aoi," he said, his voice rough. "Listen to me carefully. You need to be careful. Something… something bad is happening. People are looking for me. They might come near you. You need to stay away. Lock your doors. Don't trust anyone who seems… off."
"Yuki, you're scaring me," Aoi said, her voice tightening with fear. "What's going on? What people? What do you mean 'off'?"
"I can't explain," he said, the words catching in his throat. "Just… please. Promise me you'll be careful. Stay safe."
"Yuki, wait—"
He hung up. The click of the receiver echoing in the quiet night. He leaned his forehead against the cool plastic of the payphone. He'd warned her. As much as he dared. He couldn't drag her into this darkness. He couldn't hold her hand and lead her into the abyss. He had to let go.
He needed to get to the mountains. To the sanctum. He needed to end this. Before the black veins consumed him. Before he became the monster the exorcist saw. Before he destroyed anyone else.
He started walking, leaving the gas station's lights behind, heading into the deep mountain darkness. The air grew colder, thinner. The only sounds were the crunch of his boots on gravel and the rustling of unseen things in the trees.
He walked for hours, the mountain road winding upwards. Exhaustion weighed heavily on him, the burns on his arms a constant, throbbing agony. The black veins felt like icy tendrils spreading beneath his skin.
He finally found a small, abandoned ranger's cabin tucked into a rocky outcrop. It was little more than a shack, but it offered shelter from the biting wind. He pushed the creaking door open and slipped inside.
The interior was bare, dusty, smelling of rotting wood and animal droppings. Moonlight filtered through a grimy window, casting long, distorted shadows. He sank to the floor in a corner, his back against the rough wall.
He closed his eyes. He saw Aoi's worried face. He saw the exorcist's burning eyes. He saw the obsidian sanctum. He saw the crimson eyes in the mirror. He saw the black veins spreading across his arms.
He was so tired. Tired of running. Tired of fighting. Tired of being afraid. Tired of the darkness inside him and around him.
He reached out, not physically, but with the part of him that was still Yuki. He reached out towards the memory of Aoi's warmth, towards the ghost of Hana's smile, towards the faint echo of the boy he used to be.
He wanted to hold onto that. To hold onto her.
But his hand, when he raised it, looked alien in the moonlight. The skin was pale, almost translucent. The black veins were visible even in the dim light, snaking up his wrist. They pulsed with a cold, dark light.
This was the hand he had to offer. A hand stained with blood and corruption. A hand that brought only death and darkness. A hand she could never hold. Not anymore.
He curled the alien hand into a fist, pressing it against his chest, over the cold, heavy beat of his corrupted heart. The tears that finally came were cold, and they left tracks of frost on his cheeks. He was alone in the dark, and the hand he needed most was the one he could never offer. The hand he couldn't hold.