Whispers of Shikiban:The king walk among us

The city was sinking into twilight, its last light slipping away like the final breath of a dying star. Shadows crept from the cracks in the world, swallowing the streets, leaving them silent and abandoned. The air was thick, heavy with something Reika couldn't quite name. A warning. A weight pressing down on her chest, stealing her breath before she even had a chance to breathe it in.

She sat alone on a bench, its rusted metal creaking under her weight, the flickering streetlamp above casting a weak, dying glow. It barely touched her, leaving her half-drowned in shadow, her face barely visible—pale skin, bruised wrists, empty eyes.

Kagetsu Reika.

A name she had been born with, a name she was trapped in. It carried with it the suffocating weight of her past. The past that had broken her into pieces and scattered them across time. Pieces that were too shattered to ever be put back together again.

Her fingers lingered on the bruises around her wrists, the ones her father had left. She pressed down, forcing herself to feel the sting, the ache. A reminder. A cruel one. That she was still alive. That she hadn't died from the years of neglect, from the years of hurt.

She stared down at her hands, remembering the moments when her fingers used to tremble for reasons other than pain. Her mind flickered back to a time when she'd wanted to feel, when she'd wanted to hope, when she'd wanted someone to care. But those days were long gone. And with them, the girl she used to be.

"Am I supposed to live like this forever?" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the rustling wind.

Her breath fogged the air, a quiet exhale that disappeared into nothingness. The wind carried the bitter remnants of her thoughts, tossing them like useless leaves. There was no answer. No one ever answered her anymore.

She didn't listen to her father's warnings anymore. Not since the first time he told her to stay inside, to never go out after dark. "If you leave, you'll die," he'd said.

And she had laughed. Bitter, hollow laughter that had died in her throat, because if she died—who would even care? Her father? Her mother?

The memories were painful, too painful to hold onto, but they lingered like ghosts that wouldn't leave her. Her mother's voice, soft and cruel, had always said, "We beat you for your own good." And those words had stuck, becoming her truth in a world that seemed to have no place for her.

The Shikiban. Her mother's voice echoed in her head again. "The Shikiban are everywhere. You'll be in danger."

Shikiban. Monsters. Creatures that had once been human. Now, they were nightmares—hungry, twisted things that lived in the spaces between worlds. And Reika... Reika had once believed in fairy tales. But fairy tales didn't save you from the monsters that lurked in the dark.

A chill ran through her body, but she didn't move. It was too familiar, too predictable, this feeling of something wrong. This ominous weight in the air that made her bones ache.

She stood, slowly, mechanically. Her body felt too heavy, her mind too numb. She was lost, always lost, in a world that didn't care whether she lived or died.

And then, she heard it.

A voice.

"How lucky," it murmured, the words crawling into her ears like cold fingers. "A human wandering alone at night."

Reika froze, her breath catching in her throat. She knew that voice. Knew it in her bones. It was too smooth, too deliberate.

A figure stood before her, like a shadow coalesced into form. A boy.

His face was too perfect, too beautiful in an unnatural way, his eyes hidden beneath the fall of his hair. His lips pulled into a smile that didn't reach his eyes. Cold, predatory.

Reika didn't move. She couldn't.

Something was wrong. Everything about him was wrong.

And then—his body shifted.

The air grew heavier, colder. His limbs twisted, contorting unnaturally, and something dark and grotesque erupted from his back—long, clawed appendages that glinted in the dim light. His body morphed, became something no longer human.

A Shikiban.

A scream tore through Reika's chest, but it stayed lodged in her throat. She stumbled back, her fingers brushing the knife at her waist. Useless. Useless. She couldn't fight this. She knew she couldn't.

The monster laughed, low and mocking. "Pathetic." Its voice slithered like poison. "Do you think you have a chance?"

Reika's heart hammered in her chest, her pulse throbbing in her ears. The world slowed, stretched into moments of agonizing clarity. She was going to die.

Her breath came in ragged gasps, the panic rising in her throat like a choking vine.

But then—

A flash of silver.

A blur of motion.

The creature's clawed hand was severed, blood splattering across the pavement as it fell away from her throat. Reika's legs gave out, and she collapsed to the ground, gasping for air, her vision swimming.

A figure stood before her now.

A boy.

Silver hair. Long coat that swirled around him like darkness itself. He held a katana, its sleek black blade glinting with dark silver patterns, dripping with blood.

The Shikiban screeched, its body beginning to regenerate, but the boy wasn't bothered. He didn't hesitate. He didn't flinch.

He moved with lethal grace, slicing through the air with his katana.

Reika's heart stopped as the Shikiban twisted and writhed, dodging the strikes, but the boy's movements were too fast. Too precise.

And then, with a final, devastating cut, the monster's head fell from its shoulders, its body crumbling into black ash.

Reika stared in disbelief as the ashes scattered, the smoke curling into the air. The boy's blade gleamed, still dripping with the Shikiban's blood.

He turned to her then. His eyes, cold and piercing, locked with hers.

"Kagetsu Reika."

Her breath caught. "How do you know my name?"

He didn't answer. Instead, his gaze flickered to something in his coat. With smooth, deliberate movements, he drew out a black envelope. It shimmered faintly in the moonlight, the edges glowing with an eerie light.

"Take it," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "Open it when you're ready."

Reika hesitated, her heart pounding in her chest. Every instinct screamed at her to refuse, to run far away from this boy, from this world that was slipping further into madness. But something in her—something deep, buried beneath all the pain and numbness—whispered that this was her only way out.

Her hand trembled as she reached for the envelope.

And when her fingers brushed the cold surface, she knew.

Her life would never be the same again.

The invitation text written in fine, silver ink, the message on the front is simple yet chilling. The letters flow with an almost handwritten elegance, like a personal calligraphy that carries weight with every stroke.

"Kagetsu Reika."

Beneath her name, in smaller, more delicate characters, it reads:

"You are summoned to Tenshiko Academy. The choice is yours, but you will not be the same once you step within its gates."