A sigh of God

Chapter 9 - Slow and sudden miracles

Both of you didn't text the other wanting to give the other one the time they need. Both of you feel empty and sad, looking at the phone and sighing deeply.

The day Gojo was supposed to come, his flight was delayed making him stay for another night. The weather was lovely with the sun up in the skies, shining brightly over Tokyo.

That day, you missed a call from your mother.

When you called back after a practice session with Yuta, she didn't answer.

You were on your way to the campus to meet with the first years when you saw Ichiji and Yaga talking worriedly in the halls. Yaga pinched the bridge of his nose, sweat drops were visible on his forehead.

"I don't understand..." His tone was tense. Ichiji was shifting from one foot to the other, trembling.

"Are you sure the information is correct?" Yaga asks and Ichiji nods.

"I think it is too late to send sorcerers now. It's hard to believe anyone survived." Ichiji looks down.

"Yaga Sensei" You interrupted, "What happened? Is there something I can help with?"

Yaga didn't make eye contact.

Foolishly, he explained the terror attack that happened this morning in Gokayama. No one can contact Satoru cause he's on a flight right now, but it's probably too late anyway.

"But... this village... why would someone do that to this useless..."

And the dots began to connect. Inhealing a sharp breath you excuse yourself when storming out of the building.

There was no way this was happening.

He wouldn't.

You feel sick to your stomach when you write a small note and slip it under Satoru's office door.

***

Gokayama had a very small population of only 300 people overall. Each and every one was slaughtered by Tamamo-no-Mae, one of the sixteen special-grade cursed spirits, controlled by Suguru Geto. Usually, it takes 6 hours to get there by train, but this time you managed to get there by four.

Maybe it was because he was furious with your dismissal.

Maybe he just wanted to deepen the tear between you and Satoru.

Or maybe, this was a warning of something greater that was going to come.

As the rain poured down in torrents, casting a pall of gloom over the land, the village was destroyed in chaos and destruction. Homes lay empty, their inhabitants torn away by the merciless fury of the cursed spirit. You can still feel a malevolent energy, probably from the fear and grief people went through before being vanished. Not even corpses were left of them.

You are being watched, you can feel it.

With your grip tightened, every fiber of your being seemed to ache with a pain that transcended mere physical sensation, radiating outwards from the depths of your soul.

It was as if a thousand needles pierced your skin, each prick sending waves of agony rippling through your body.

With a scream full of anguish you storm at the remaining curses, cleaning what is left of your village. Your mind is blank and muscles tensed involuntarily, lungs burning with the effort to fill with air, while your heart pounded in your chest like a drumbeat of despair.

You slice and slice, and they slice you back. The pain of loss combines with the pain of the burning attacks on your skin, but you didn't even flinch.

The way you moved was suicidal, but you need this so bad.