Nanami felt it a fraction of a second too late.
The cursed energy didn't spike the way it should have. There was no explosive surge, no clear warning sign. Instead, it compressed—drawn inward so suddenly that the air itself seemed to fold around the cursed spirit.
Nanami's eyes widened.
"…So that's it," he muttered.
The curse had stopped shedding energy.
For the first time since its manifestation, its form stabilized—not cleanly, not completely, but enough. The erratic flickering slowed. The torn edges of its body tightened, pulled together by something unseen.
Its cursed technique.
Nanami shifted his stance instantly, raising his guard.
Too late.
The air screamed.
An invisible force detonated outward from the curse, not in a wave but in a line—compressed, focused, merciless. Nanami barely managed to brace before it hit.
The impact was devastating.
He was hurled backward as if struck by a speeding truck, his body smashing through a metal fence and skidding across the pavement in a spray of sparks and broken concrete. Pain exploded through his ribs as he rolled to a stop, breath torn violently from his lungs.
"…Gah—!"
Nanami coughed, blood splattering against the ground as he forced himself onto one knee. His arms trembled as he tried to rise.
That wasn't brute strength.
That was control.
The curse stood upright now.
For the first time, it wasn't flailing.
The air around it warped subtly, bending inward, spiraling in tight, almost elegant currents. The cursed energy that had once leaked uncontrollably now flowed with intent—unstable, yes, but undeniably directed.
Nanami clenched his teeth.
"So you finally learned how to use it."
The curse took a step forward.
Another.
Each movement distorted the space around it, pressure rolling outward in invisible pulses that cracked windows and rattled loose debris. It didn't look at Nanami again.
Its focus was singular.
The orphanage.
Nanami pushed himself upright, pain screaming through his side as he staggered forward.
"No," he said, voice sharp despite the blood in his mouth. "You're not getting past me."
The curse ignored him.
It advanced.
Nanami lunged, forcing his body to move through sheer will. He closed the distance, striking with everything he had left—but the moment his attack landed, the air shifted again.
The curse's technique activated.
The pressure reversed.
Nanami felt the force hit him head-on, compressed air slamming into his chest and hurling him back a second time. He hit the ground hard, vision blurring as his body refused to respond.
Damn it—
His fingers dug into the pavement as he tried to push himself up.
Move
Move.
The curse didn't stop.
It crossed the street in long, uneven strides, each step leaving fractured concrete in its wake. The distance between it and the orphanage door shrank rapidly.
Nanami's vision darkened at the edges.
This was bad.
No—this was worse than bad.
The curse had found its footing.
And he couldn't stop it in time.
.....
I felt it before I understood what was happening.
The moment Nanami was thrown back, something inside me snapped taut—like a wire pulled too tight. My lungs seized as the air around me compressed suddenly, pressing against my chest, my throat, my thoughts.
The cursed spirit had changed.
I could feel it.
The pressure wasn't chaotic anymore. It wasn't flailing blindly. It moved with purpose now, each pulse of cursed energy deliberate, measured.
Terrifying.
My hands shook as I stepped away from the wall without realizing it.
No.
No no no—
Nanami was down.
Not dead. Not unconscious.
But slowed.
And the curse was moving.
Toward the building.
Toward the door where the children were hiding.
Panic flooded my veins, cold and suffocating. Every instinct screamed at me to run—to get away, to survive—but my feet refused to obey.
The air around me stirred violently, reacting to my rising fear.
Cursed energy.
Mine.
It surged without control, responding to the curse like an echo answering a shout. The pressure between us intensified, invisible currents twisting and colliding in the space between our bodies.
The curse paused.
Just for a heartbeat.
It turned its head slightly—enough for me to know it had noticed.
My stomach dropped.
Why does it feel like it's… listening?
The air around the curse warped again, tighter this time, more focused. Its technique pulsed outward in short, sharp bursts, cracking the ground beneath its feet as it resumed its advance.
Nanami tried to rise again behind it.
"Don't—!" he shouted hoarsely.
I barely heard him.
My vision tunneled, the world narrowing to the cursed spirit and the door behind it. Every breath felt wrong, like the air was too heavy, too thick to draw in properly.
If it reaches that door—
The thought didn't finish.
It didn't need to.
The cursed energy inside me surged again, stronger this time, responding instinctively to the threat. The air around my body twisted violently, reacting to emotions I didn't have time to process.
Fear.
Guilt.
Something deeper.
The curse took another step.
And another.
It was close now.
Too close.
I realized then, with a sickening clarity, that Nanami wasn't wrong.
This curse wasn't just powerful.
It was learning.
And if no one stopped it—
I swallowed hard, heart pounding so loudly it drowned out everything else.
—I might be the only one left who could.
should run.
The thought came uninvited, sharp and sensible, cutting through the noise in my head like a blade.
Run.Get away.Live.
I had known these people for what—days? A handful of mornings, shared meals, routine conversations that barely scratched the surface. I wasn't their family. I wasn't their protector. I wasn't anything special.
I didn't owe them my life.
My body trembled as the cursed spirit advanced, the air around it compressing with every step. The pressure weighed on my chest, making it hard to breathe.
If I turn around now, I can make it.
That was the worst part.
I could run.
Nanami was down but alive. The curse's attention was forward. If I bolted now, disappeared into the streets, no one would blame me. No one would even know.
I clenched my fists.
I'm not a hero.
I never was.Never wanted to be.
Heroes ran toward danger because they believed in something. Justice. Ideals. Saving people because it was right.
That wasn't me.
This wasn't some grand moral stand.
It was just—
There was no one else.
Nanami was struggling to stand, blood streaking his shirt. The curse had learned how to use its technique. The children were trapped behind a door that wouldn't hold if the pressure increased again.
And me?
I was standing here.
Breathing.
Alive.
My feet moved before I could argue with myself.
"Idiot…" I whispered.
I broke into a run.
The air screamed as I moved through it, pressure pushing back against my body like it was trying to stop me.
My heart pounded so violently it hurt, each beat echoing in my ears.
What am I even doing?!
I didn't know how to fight. I didn't know techniques. I didn't know timing or control or anything that mattered.
But I knew one thing.
Only people with cursed energy can hurt curses.
The cursed spirit sensed me.
Its movement stuttered for a fraction of a second, cursed energy rippling outward in sharp pulses as it began to turn.
Too slow.
I pushed harder, lungs burning, legs screaming. Something inside me surged in response—hot, unstable, frightening.
Cursed energy.
Mine.
It flooded my body like a current breaking through a dam, raw and unrefined. My skin prickled violently as the air around me twisted, reacting instinctively.
I didn't shape it.
I didn't control it.
I just grabbed onto it.
My fist clenched, and the cursed energy followed.
It wrapped around my knuckles unevenly, flickering like a flame caught in a storm. It hurt—sharp, biting pain radiating up my arm—but I didn't stop.
I couldn't.
The curse turned fully toward me.
Its form loomed overhead, warped and towering, the air around it compressing in anticipation. I saw its technique beginning to activate again, pressure tightening—
Now.
I swung.
Not a technique.Not a strategy.
Just a desperate punch.
My cursed-energy-laced fist slammed into the back of the cursed spirit.
The impact stopped it.
Not destroyed.Not damaged.
Stopped.
The pressure vanished for a split second as the curse staggered forward, its form shuddering violently. The air around us rippled outward in a sharp distortion.
I froze.
My fist was still pressed against its back.
My arm shook uncontrollably.
I… hit it.
My fist connected with the cursed spirit's back, cursed energy flaring wildly around my knuckles as the impact rippled through the air.
For a fraction of a second—
Nothing happened.
The curse didn't break.Didn't scream.Didn't even stagger.
The pressure I'd felt moments ago rushed back in all at once, heavier than before, crushing against my chest and driving the breath from my lungs. My arm screamed in pain as the cursed energy I'd forced into it scattered uselessly, dissolving like mist in the wind.
It hadn't worked.
Not even a little.
My fist slid uselessly off its warped form as the curse slowly began to turn.
The world felt distant.
Muted.
I stared at my trembling hand, fingers numb, arm burning from the recoil. That was it? That was everything I had?
A stupid, desperate punch?
The cursed spirit finished turning.
Its distorted face loomed inches from mine, cursed energy surging violently as its technique gathered again. The air compressed so tightly around us that my ears rang, pressure crushing down like an invisible vice.
I couldn't move.
My legs locked.My body refused to respond.
Fear hollowed me out completely.
I really thought…I really believed…
I wasn't strong.I wasn't special.I wasn't anything.
The children were behind me.Nanami was down.And I had just thrown my life away for nothing.
This is it.
That thought came with an unexpected calm.
A heavy, sinking realization that survival had finally run out of excuses.
The cursed spirit raised its arm.
The air screamed.
And then—
CRACK.
The sound tore through the street like reality itself had split open.
It wasn't close.
It wasn't coming from me.
The cursed energy around the cursed spirit collapsed inward violently, pressure imploding in a way that made my vision blur and my knees buckle. The ground beneath us fractured with a sharp, echoing shockwave.
The curse shrieked.
Not in triumph.
In pain.
My head snapped toward the source of the sound, heart pounding.
Behind the curse—
Nanami stood.
His fist was buried deep into the curse's side, cursed energy exploding outward in jagged, pitch-black arcs that twisted unnaturally around the point of impact.
Time seemed to stutter.
The sound echoed again in my ears, hollow and absolute.
Black Flash.