The Midnight Drums

The shrine bells were supposed to sleep at night.

So when Ayaka woke up to their low, eerie ringing, she knew something was wrong.

Kitsura shimmered into view beside her futon, expression tense. “Stay here.”

“Like that’s going to happen,” Ayaka muttered, grabbing her robe and stumbling outside.

The courtyard was lit by cold moonlight. The offering basin rippled, though no wind blew, and faint drumbeats echoed from the woods below the shrine—slow, deliberate, human.

Except no festival was scheduled.

Ayaka swallowed hard. “Please tell me that’s not a ghost parade.”

Kitsura’s eyes narrowed. “Something weaker. A wandering spirit, drawn by leftover festival energy. But if left alone, it could attract worse.”

Ayaka brightened slightly. “So… like a practice exorcism?”

“Exactly. For someone competent.”

“…Rude.”

She grabbed her gohei (the paper-streamer wand) and marched down the path, determination burning through her nerves.

At the forest’s edge, a faint blue flame drifted between the trees—small, almost timid. Ayaka stepped closer, whispering, “Hey there… are you lost?”

The flame flickered, forming the faint outline of a child’s figure. It wasn’t attacking—it was crying.

Ayaka’s expression softened. “Oh… you must’ve followed the festival drums. It’s okay now.”

She raised her gohei, channeling the prayer Kitsura had drilled into her. “By the light of the sacred—”

“BOO.”

The demon’s voice cut through the silence.

Ayaka screamed, nearly dropping her wand. “WHY ARE YOU HERE?!”

He leaned against a tree, looking amused. “Couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d watch the apprentice at work.”

Kitsura appeared instantly, bristling. “Leave. This is sacred ground.”

“Relax,” the demon said, hands up. “I’m just observing. Unless, of course…” His smile curved. “You want help.”

Ayaka glared. “I don’t need help from you!”

The spirit child flickered violently, sensing the tension. The drumbeats quickened.

“Ayaka, focus!” Kitsura snapped.

Ayaka lifted her gohei again, trying to remember the mantra—but the words slipped as panic crept in. The flame lunged.

Without thinking, the demon stepped forward, snapping his fingers. A pulse of crimson energy rippled through the air, freezing the spirit mid-attack.

The flame shattered like glass, scattering harmlessly into the night.

Ayaka blinked. “You—helped me?”

The demon smirked. “Don’t misunderstand. If you got eaten by a ghost, who would entertain me?”

Kitsura growled. “You interfered with divine work.”

The demon turned away, grin sharp in the moonlight. “Divine work? I call it cleanup.”

Then he vanished, leaving Ayaka shaken and confused—again.

Kitsura’s tone was low. “You owe him nothing. Remember that.”

Ayaka looked down at the faint glowing shards still drifting in the air.

“…Maybe not nothing,” she whispered.