The cursed village (Part Two)

In the gentle embrace of dawn, the cabin filled with the soft, diffuse light of early morning, Makima's eyes fluttered open. As her gaze came into focus, she found Haruto across the room, his movements quiet and deliberate as he changed his shirt. It was a simple act, one she had seen countless times in their journey together, but this time it revealed something new, something deeply personal.

Haruto's back, usually hidden beneath layers of clothing, was exposed to her for the first time, revealing a tapestry of scars that crisscrossed his skin. The marks bore the brutal testimony of a whip or a cable, each scar a silent witness to pain endured in the past. They were like old wounds that had healed on the surface but spoke volumes of the suffering and resilience that lay beneath.

"Haruto," she called out softly, her voice laced with a mix of concern and curiosity.

Haruto, caught in the act of pulling his shirt down, paused, his body tensing slightly as he realized she had seen his scars. "I'm sorry, did I wake you?" he asked, quickly shifting the focus away from himself.

Makima shook her head, her expression composed as she sat up. "No, I woke up on my own," she replied, her attention still fixed on the network of scars that marred his back.

"Ah, I see," Haruto said, a hint of relief in his voice as he turned away, perhaps hoping to move past the moment. "Then, get ready for breakfast."

As Makima stood, reaching for her clothes—a simple white shirt, black trousers, and a tie—she revisited the topic, unwilling to let it go unnoticed. "Haruto, what are those scars?" she asked, her voice gentle, yet insistent.

Haruto, visibly uncomfortable, hesitated. "You saw them?" he asked, a faint smile trying to mask the discomfort in his voice.

Makima nodded, her smile reassuring. "Yes," she said, encouraging him to share.

Haruto took a deep breath, the weight of his past momentarily pressing down on him. "Well, when I was a child, my father used to beat me with a cable. So, those scars just... marked me," he explained, his voice low, carrying a vulnerability rarely shown.

Makima observed him for a moment, the gravity of his admission hanging in the air between them. Then, with a slight shift in her demeanor, she said, "Haruto, I'm hungry."

Haruto let out a sigh, a smile breaking through the solemnity of the moment. "Alright, let's go eat," he said, his tone light, as if to chase away the shadows of the past with the simplicity of their present routine.

As Haruto and Makima stepped out of the cabin, the village came to life around them, bathed in the soft glow of the morning sun. The streets, bustling with the day's early risers, seemed to pause as they made their way through, the villagers' eyes following their every step with an intensity that bordered on scrutiny.

Makima, ever observant, tilted her head slightly, her gaze sweeping over the faces that watched them pass. "Haruto, why is everyone looking at us?" she inquired, her voice carrying a note of curiosity rather than concern.

Haruto glanced around, taking in the array of expressions directed their way. "Well, we're strangers to them, so I guess it's normal," he reasoned, his tone attempting to dispel any discomfort the scrutiny might cause.

Their search for breakfast led them to a small eatery, its modest exterior promising a warm, welcoming atmosphere within. "Good morning," Haruto greeted cheerily as they entered, his voice echoing slightly in the cozy space.

The owner, a woman with a kind face and a welcoming smile, emerged to greet them. "Good morning, little one," she responded to Haruto, her demeanor friendly and open. However, her gaze shifted to Makima, and something in her demeanor changed. There was a hesitation, a flicker of something akin to fear, as she took in Makima's poised, stoic presence.

Makima, for her part, offered a smile, though it did little to alleviate the owner's apparent unease. "Good morning," she said, her voice polite, betraying none of the tension that seemed to have gripped the woman.

The owner, with a nervous nod, quickly ushered them to take a seat wherever they preferred, her earlier warmth tempered by the caution Makima's presence seemed to invoke.

As they settled at a table, Haruto couldn't help but comment, "That was odd."

Makima's smile persisted, a serene acceptance of the reaction she seemed to evoke in others. "It's not unusual," she explained, her tone matter-of-fact. "For some strange reason, people tend to fear me. Even those who were supposed to care for me felt the same way," she added, the smile never leaving her face despite the admission.

Haruto, puzzled yet amused, shook his head. "That's strange. They fear a girl who doesn't even know how to tie her own shoelaces," he teased, aiming to lighten the mood with his playful jab.

Makima's response was swift, her stoic facade momentarily replaced by a hint of playful reproof. "Haruto, I do know how to tie them," she retorted, her voice laced with a subtle amusement that matched her smile.

The small eatery, with its rustic charm and the warm aroma of broth filling the air, became a stage for an interaction that blurred the lines between professional partnership and personal connection. The owner, with a practiced ease and a smile that had returned to her face, placed two steaming bowls of ramen before Haruto and Makima. The soup's rich scent mingled with the spices, inviting them to partake in a moment of simple pleasure amidst the complexity of their lives.

As they began to eat, the world outside the eatery, with its judgments and expectations, seemed to fade into the background. The ramen, with its perfect balance of flavors and textures, was a testament to the care and skill of the cook. It wasn't just food; it was a momentary escape, a shared experience that transcended the ordinary.

The tranquility of the meal was interrupted when Makima, inspired by a scene she had witnessed on television, picked up her chopsticks and extended a portion of her ramen towards Haruto. "Haruto, say 'ahh'," she instructed, a playful curiosity lighting up her eyes.

Haruto, caught off guard by the gesture, balked. "Hey, what are you doing?" he asked, his voice tinged with nervous amusement.

Makima's response was both innocent and deliberate. "I saw it on television the other day," she explained, her head tilting slightly, a gesture that seemed to invite him into the game.

Haruto, however, hesitated. "That's usually something couples do," he pointed out, the implication hanging between them like an unspoken question.

Makima, undeterred, pressed on. "But we are a couple, aren't we?" she asked, her head still tilted, her gaze fixed on him.

Haruto, feeling the weight of her gaze, clarified, "Yes, but we're a work couple, not a romantic one."

Makima pondered this for a moment, then shrugged, her expression a blend of disappointment and resolve. "It seems complicated," she said.

Haruto, trying to navigate the uncharted waters of their interaction, insisted, "It's not."

"Regardless, I still want to try it. Say 'ahh'," Makima persisted, her request a challenge to the boundaries they had tacitly agreed upon.

Haruto sighed, his resistance melting away under the warmth of the moment and a hidden desire to indulge in the intimacy of the gesture. "Well, I've always kind of wanted Makima to do this anyway," he thought to himself, a smile breaking across his face as he accepted the offering from her chopsticks.

"Is it delicious?" Makima asked, watching him with an intensity that seemed to seek more than just his approval of the taste.

Haruto nodded, his smile genuine, a silent acknowledgment of the pleasure derived from the simple act.

However, the moment of connection was marred by the laughter of a pair of men sitting nearby. Leaning back in their chairs, their brawny arms crossed over their chests, they appeared to find amusement in Haruto's compliance. Haruto's smile faltered, a flush of embarrassment coloring his cheeks.

Makima, undaunted, prepared another bite. "Haruto, say 'ahh'," she urged, her voice soft yet insistent.

"Enough already," Haruto protested, his embarrassment turning to discomfort under the leering gaze of the onlookers.

"Why?" Makima asked, genuinely puzzled by his change in demeanor.

Haruto remained silent, unable to articulate the complex mix of pride and vulnerability that the situation had evoked.

Noticing the source of Haruto's discomfort, Makima's gaze shifted to the leering men. "Is it because they're mocking you?" she inquired, her voice carrying a note of protectiveness.

Haruto, pride wounded, admitted, "It's about male pride."

Makima's laughter, light and unburdened, filled the space between them as they left the eatery, stepping back into the life of the village. "You're funny, Haruto," she remarked, a genuine amusement in her tone that seemed to momentarily lift the weight of their mission.

Haruto, choosing not to respond, focused instead on finishing his meal, his thoughts already turning towards their next move. Once they had eaten their fill, they ventured once again into the heart of the village, the mystery of the previous night's encounter hanging over them like a shadow.

As they walked, Makima broke the silence with a question that had lingered in her mind. "Haruto, what was it that we saw yesterday?" she asked, her curiosity piqued by the elusive nature of their quarry.

Haruto's response was thoughtful, his brow furrowed in contemplation. "I don't know. It seemed too intelligent to be a mere demon. The best course of action would be to ask around."

Their steps led them to the mayor's residence, a decision born of necessity rather than desire. The mayor, upon seeing them, reiterated his belief with a conviction that bordered on obstinacy. "I've told you, it's a god," he insisted, his tone brooking no argument.

Haruto, ever the skeptic, pushed back. "It didn't quite look like one," he said, his voice carrying a hint of challenge.

The mayor's retort was swift and dismissive. "Have you seen a god? No? Then don't speculate," he snapped, his impatience with their questions evident.

Haruto, undeterred, sought clarity. "And what is the name of this 'god'?" he asked, his inquiry a testament to their unwavering pursuit of the truth.

The mayor's response was a mix of irritation and evasion. "You ask too many questions, insolent child. Now, off with you," he commanded, effectively ending their conversation.

As Makima and Haruto retreated from the mayor's residence, the air between them was thick with unanswered questions and the palpable frustration of hitting yet another dead end. Makima, turning to Haruto, voiced the uncertainty that loomed over them. "Haruto, what do we do?" she asked, her usual composure tinged with a rare hint of vulnerability.

Haruto, his resolve undiminished by the mayor's rebuke, suggested a broader approach. "Let's ask the other villagers," he said, a plan formulating in his mind.

However, their attempts to glean information from the locals were met with a wall of silence. Each person they approached seemed bound by an unspoken oath, their lips sealed tight against any inquiries regarding the so-called deity. It was as if the very air of the village was charged with a collective secret, a pact woven from fear and reverence that none dared to break.

The more Haruto pressed for answers, the more elusive they became, like shadows that flickered just beyond reach, disappearing when pursued. The villagers' refusal to speak of the entity that haunted the edge of their world was a testament to its power, real or perceived—a specter that loomed larger in the absence of understanding.

Makima observed the villagers' reactions with a keen eye, noting the mix of fear and respect that colored their evasions. "It's like trying to grasp smoke," she remarked, her voice low. "Visible but untouchable, a mystery that binds them all."

Haruto, frustration evident in the set of his jaw and the determined glint in his eyes, was not ready to concede defeat. "There has to be a way to uncover the truth," he said, his voice carrying the weight of their shared determination.

In the midst of their fruitless inquiries, a voice called out from the shadows of an alleyway, drawing Haruto and Makima's attention away from the tight-lipped villagers. Turning towards the source, they found themselves face to face with a young boy, his appearance a stark contrast to the guarded adults they had encountered. He was slight, with wide, earnest eyes that seemed too large for his dirt-smudged face, and his clothes hung loosely on his frame, bearing the signs of frequent wear. His hair was a tangle of unruly curls that danced in the slight breeze, giving him an almost wild, untamed look.

"What's going on, kid?" Haruto asked as they approached, his tone gentle yet tinged with the wariness of their profession.

The boy, undeterred by the presence of the strangers, stepped forward. "Are you Devil Hunters?" he inquired, his voice carrying a mix of hope and desperation.

"Yes, why do you ask?" Haruto responded, curiosity piqued by the boy's directness.

"You have to help us. There's a demon loose, roaming the nights," the boy explained, his gaze flickering between Haruto and Makima, seeking understanding, perhaps even validation.

Makima, ever analytical, interjected, "We know about it, but the people here believe it's a god."

The boy shook his head vehemently, his curls bouncing with the motion. "It's not a god, I... I saw it," he confessed, a shiver passing through him at the memory.

"So, it is a demon," Haruto concluded, trying to piece together the puzzle before them.

The boy's next words, however, threw their assumptions into disarray. "It's not that either... It's human," he said, a note of confusion in his voice as if he himself struggled to comprehend the truth of his statement.

Haruto's reaction was immediate, his eyes widening in surprise. "So, it's just a murderer?" he ventured, trying to classify the threat into something more understandable.

The boy shook his head again, his expression troubled. "No, it's human, but it doesn't seem like it. It's like there's something... hiding," he elaborated, his words painting a picture of an entity that defied simple categorization.

Haruto, his mind racing, responded, "The creature we saw last night was definitely demonic, and you're saying it's also human. There's something strange going on here."

Makima, considering their options, suggested, "We should call Kishibe."

Haruto scoffed lightly at the idea. "The nearest phone is three hours from here, and he's probably too drunk to be of any use," he remarked, a touch of humor in his voice despite the gravity of their situation.

The boy, watching the exchange, interjected with a plea. "Will you help us?" His eyes, wide and imploring, sought theirs, a silent testament to the fear and hope that battled within him.

Haruto, moved by the boy's earnestness, reached out, ruffling his hair in a gesture of reassurance. "Of course, we will," he promised, a determined set to his jaw.

Makima added, her voice firm yet soft, "You might not believe it, but Haruto is very strong."

The boy's declaration, delivered with a confidence that belied his years, lingered in the air as he darted away, his small form quickly swallowed by the bustle of the village. "The demon will appear in the forest, near the river, tonight," he had said, his eyes alight with a mixture of fear and hope. Haruto, absorbing the gravity of the information, nodded firmly. "We'll be there," he assured, the promise hanging in the air long after the boy's departure.

Makima, ever the analyst, pondered the implications of the boy's knowledge. Turning to Haruto, she voiced her thoughts, a thread of suspicion weaving through her calm demeanor. "It's strange," she said, her gaze following the path the boy had taken.

"What is?" Haruto replied, his attention still partially on the boy's retreating figure.

"How does he know the demon will appear there?" Makima mused, her voice tinged with the skepticism that often accompanied the unknown.

Haruto considered this, his mind racing through possible explanations. "Maybe it appears there often, or maybe the boy used to play around that area," he suggested, trying to apply logic to the situation.

Makima, though not entirely convinced, conceded the point. "Perhaps... you're right," she said, the shadow of doubt still present in her voice.

Haruto, sensing the need for a plan, nodded decisively. "We'll head out at dawn, then. For now, let's go back to the cabin," he said, already mapping out their strategy for the night ahead.

Makima's smile, a rare sight that softened her usually stoic expression, acknowledged their shared determination. "Alright," she agreed, the simplicity of her response belying the complexity of the task before them.

As they made their way back to the cabin, the village around them seemed to pulse with an undercurrent of tension, a silent acknowledgment of the unseen forces that lurked just beyond the safety of its borders. Haruto and Makima, united in their purpose, moved through the streets with a resolve that spoke of their commitment to unravel the mystery of the nocturnal entity.

In the pre-dawn darkness, the forest was a maze of shadows and whispers, the dense canopy above rendering the path ahead nearly invisible. Haruto and Makima moved with practiced silence, their senses heightened, every rustle of leaves and snap of a twig underfoot echoing like a drumbeat in the stillness.

Makima's voice, barely above a whisper, broke the silence. "Haruto, something is watching us," she said, her tone calm but alert.

Haruto nodded, his own instincts confirming her suspicion. "Yes, that gaze... I felt it yesterday. It's the demon," he responded, his hand moving instinctively towards his weapon.

As they reached the riverbank, the forest seemed to hold its breath, the usual sounds of nocturnal life silenced by an unseen presence. Then, a voice cut through the darkness, its tone mocking. "You're late, Devil Hunter."

The figure that emerged from the trees was an unexpected one—the mayor, his visage twisted in a grim parody of welcome, an axe dripping with blood in his grasp.

Makima, taken aback, queried, "Mayor?"

Haruto, piecing together the fragments of the puzzle before them, accused, "So, you were the demon."

The mayor's laughter, cold and devoid of humor, filled the air. "No, I am not what you seek."

Suddenly, the darkness around them teemed with movement as villagers stepped forth, encircling Haruto and Makima with an unsettling determination.

"What's going on here?" Haruto demanded, his gaze darting among the faces now revealed by the dim light of dawn.

A new voice, chilling in its familiarity, answered. "I shall explain, feeble Hunter." The boy from earlier stepped forward, but the innocence that had marked his features was gone, replaced by a malice that seemed to warp his very being.

Haruto, incredulous, confronted him. "What are you doing here?"

The boy's laughter was a sinister echo of the mayor's. "I am the demon you seek."

Makima, her analytical mind quickly unraveling the truth, surmised, "So, this is it. You're a demon that made a contract with this boy, possessing him in exchange for sparing him from starvation."

The demon, through the boy, confirmed with a gleeful pride, "Exactly. I took control of his body, a simple trade for his life. Sometimes, it's all too easy."

Haruto, seeking clarity amidst the unfolding horror, asked, "And do you also control these villagers?"

The demon scoffed at the suggestion. "These madmen? Hardly. They act on their own volition."

One villager, emboldened, declared his gruesome desire. "I want the girl's skin."

The restaurant owner, her earlier kindness a distant memory, added, "I want the boy's eyes."

Haruto, horror-struck, demanded, "What is happening here?"

The demon's laughter was a dark ribbon weaving through the tension. "These peaceful villagers are actually cannibals. Can you believe it? I was fortunate to stumble upon this place."

Haruto, facing the demon with a resilience born from countless battles, sought to unveil the entity before them. "Who are you?" he demanded, his stance unwavering, prepared for whatever truth might be revealed.

The demon, embodying the boy before them, laughed—a sound chilling in its lack of humanity. "I am the Demon of Claustrophobia," it declared, its grin widening. "I embody the fear of enclosed spaces."

Makima, her analytical mind piecing together the implications of the demon's presence, questioned its motives. "You're a powerful entity. What business do you have in such a humble village?" she inquired, her gaze sharp, dissecting the demon's guise for any sign of deceit.

The demon's smile took on a mocking edge. "I ended up here by accident," it confessed, the admission tinged with a hint of irritation. "I loathe to admit it, but a Devil Hunter gravely wounded me, and I managed to escape. This village... became my refuge."

Makima, recognizing the gravity of the demon's statement, acknowledged the unseen hunter's strength. "It must have been someone very powerful to injure such a formidable demon," she said, her voice carrying a note of respect for the unnamed adversary.

The Demon of Claustrophobia, its laughter echoing ominously through the clearing, seemed amused by the turn of conversation. "Indeed, but I am recovered now and ready to deal with you both," it boasted, its confidence undimmed by the memory of its defeat.

Haruto, undeterred by the demon's threats, reached for his bible, a symbol of his faith and his weapon against the darkness. With a voice filled with unwavering determination, he declared, "I will judge you," his words cutting through the tension like a blade.