The Color of Forbidden Light

Morning came gray and heavy.

The kind of morning where the shrine felt half-asleep, its bells muted, its prayers fading before they reached the gods.

Ayaka sat on the engawa, her broom beside her, watching mist curl over the stone steps. Kitsura perched nearby, tail flicking, clearly pretending not to stare.

“Say it,” Ayaka murmured.

Kitsura blinked. “Say what?”

“That you told me so.”

He yawned. “If I said that every time you ignored me, I’d run out of breath before breakfast.”

Ayaka rolled her eyes, but she didn’t laugh. Her gaze was distant, drawn to her hand—where faint, dark veins pulsed just below the skin. Not corruption, not exactly… but something other.

“Does it hurt?” Kitsura asked quietly.

“No,” she said. “It feels like warmth. Like I’m holding fire but it doesn’t burn.”

Kitsura frowned. “That’s not better.”

Ayaka flexed her fingers. The air shimmered faintly, a red spark flickering at her fingertips. For a second, the sound of a heartbeat pulsed through the shrine—louder than her own.

Kitsura stood up sharply. “Enough.”

“I just wanted to see if—”

“I said enough, Ayaka.”

She froze. Kitsura never raised his voice.

The silence that followed was cold.

Finally, he sighed. “That energy doesn’t belong to you. It doesn’t care about your will. It only listens because it’s curious what you’ll do with it.”

Ayaka looked down. “Kind of like you, then.”

Kitsura twitched his tail, a mix of irritation and concern. “…Cute. Don’t test me, shrine girl.”

Yukino found her later near the purification basin, kneeling with a brush in hand.

“You’re cleaning again,” Yukino observed. “That’s the third time today.”

“Maybe I like clean things.”

“You hate cleaning.”

Ayaka winced. “…Maybe I like pretending I like clean things.”

Yukino sighed, crouching beside her. “You’re not yourself lately. The elders noticed. You’re quieter. Distracted. And your aura—”

“It’s fine,” Ayaka interrupted too quickly. “Just tired.”

Yukino’s gaze sharpened. “You’re lying.”

Ayaka froze, the brush dripping water between her fingers.

Yukino continued, voice low. “Last night, the wards near your room flickered. Something was inside. What are you hiding?”

Ayaka met her sister’s eyes—steady, stubborn. “You wouldn’t believe me.”

“Try me.”

Ayaka hesitated. Then, quietly: “He’s… talking to me. The demon. Not all the time, but… sometimes. He’s in my dreams, and sometimes I think—no, I feel—what he feels. And it doesn’t hurt. It’s not evil, exactly. It’s just… loud.”

Yukino’s breath caught.

“Please don’t tell the elders,” Ayaka said quickly. “They’ll—”

“They’ll purify you,” Yukino said, voice tight. “And if that doesn’t work, they’ll seal you.”

Ayaka’s heart dropped. “…Seal me?”

Yukino stood abruptly. “You should’ve told me sooner. This isn’t a game, Ayaka. You’ve been touched.”

Kitsura appeared beside them, ears flat. “Yukino, wait—”

But Yukino was already striding toward the inner sanctum, robes snapping behind her.

Ayaka’s hands trembled. “She’s going to tell them, isn’t she?”

Kitsura’s silence was answer enough.

That night, Ayaka sat by the altar, staring at the faint flame of a single candle.

Her reflection in the wax shimmered oddly—her eyes flickering gold, then red, then back again.

“They’ll never understand you.”

The voice was closer this time. Not distant or dreamlike—right behind her.

Ayaka didn’t turn. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because you reached first,” the demon said, his tone infuriatingly calm. “You touched my essence, little shrine girl. That’s permission.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

He chuckled softly. “Intentions are such fragile things.”

The candlelight dimmed, shadows stretching across the altar.

Ayaka clenched her fists. “If you think I’m afraid of you—”

“Oh, you are,” he interrupted. “But you’re also curious. You want to know why I’m here. Why your blood sings when I whisper your name.”

Ayaka’s breath hitched. “You don’t even have a name.”

“Don’t I?” His grin flickered like flame in her mind. “Then what have you been calling me in your dreams?”

She stood abruptly, knocking the candle over. The flame died, plunging the shrine into darkness.

Kitsura appeared instantly, tail glowing faintly. “Ayaka!”

She was shaking, gripping her sleeve tightly.

“I’m fine,” she whispered. “I’m fine.”

But her pulse said otherwise—and somewhere, faintly, she could still hear the demon laughing.