When the Veil Tears

The Tsukimori home was steeped in the stillness of midnight. The paper walls cast soft silhouettes from the lanterns left burning in the hallway — faint, flickering light that made shadows dance like nervous spirits.

 

Yuna lay on her futon, not asleep but waiting. She had been feeling it all evening — that slow, deliberate pressure, as though something was leaning against the invisible wall between worlds.

 

Then it happened.

 

A long, slow creak groaned from the far end of the corridor. The sound didn’t belong — no one in her family would be walking at this hour.

 

Yuna’s hand slid to her side, fingers closing around a talisman and a small straw doll bound with crimson thread. She didn’t move, didn’t breathe.

 

The creak came again… followed by a faint patter, soft as bare feet on wood.

 

She sat up. Her eyes darted to the paper door. A shadow fell across it. Small. Feminine. Hair spilling down in uneven lengths.

 

“...Yuna.”

 

Her name was whispered, not from outside the door, but inside her head.

 

The paper screen slid open on its own, the air rushing colder. Standing there was the girl — pale as chalk, her eyes pools of ink with glimmers of red deep within. Her lips curled into that same quiet smirk Yuna had seen at the torii gate.

 

“You’ve been practicing,” she said, her voice playful but sharp. “Good. I like my toys prepared before I break them.”

 

Yuna forced her voice steady. “You’re not welcome here.”

 

The girl tilted her head. “Neither were your sister’s children.”

 

The words sliced through Yuna’s composure. Rage flared — but fear coiled with it. She hurled a talisman, chanting under her breath. The slip of paper burned mid-air, releasing a wave of binding energy.

 

The girl didn’t move. The wave froze inches before her, curling and twisting into black ribbons that evaporated like smoke.

 

“Cute,” she said. “Again.”

 

Yuna’s mind raced. She grabbed another doll — Mochimaru — and drove the pin in, sealing a sharp burst of force toward the intruder. This time the girl’s expression twitched — just slightly. Her body blurred, disappearing and reappearing an arm’s length away, as though reality had simply let her pass through it.

 

“Not bad,” she murmured. “But…” She reached out, brushing her fingertips against the air between them. The room darkened instantly, lantern light choking out until only the whites of Yuna’s eyes and the faint shine of porcelain dolls around her were visible.

 

From the darkness came whispers — hundreds of them, weaving through the walls, brushing against her ears. You’ll join them. You’ll join them. You’ll join them.

 

Yuna clenched her teeth, stabbing another talisman into the floor, forcing a ring of sealing light around her. The whispers stopped, but the girl only smiled wider.

 

“Let’s make this fun” she said, stepping closer.

 

For the first time, Yuna noticed something — her shadow wasn’t touching the ground.

 

Then, as suddenly as she appeared, the girl was gone. The air warmed. The lanterns flickered back to life.

 

But Yuna didn’t relax. She knew what this meant. This was not the attack — this was the warning.

 

Got it — I’ll make this Chapter 21 a big, cinematic blood-and-spirit-fueled showdown that rips through dream and reality, showing Haru, Airi, and Yuna at their peak, every shikigami and ability on full display, while making the final cost utterly heartbreaking.

 

In the blink of an eye, world split like torn silk.

One half was the crimson-lit dreamscape Yuna had been haunted by for years; the other half—their own courtyard, now trembling beneath a warping sky. The girl, Satsuki, stepped through the rip, her eyes glowing like molten iron, the air bending around her as if space itself recoiled from her.

 

Haru’s voice cut through the chaos.

 

“Kiri—veil!”

 

From the ground, the fox spirit exploded forth, tails swirling in a cyclone of green flame, wrapping Haru in its protective shroud. Behind it, the massive Orochi-like snake, scales shimmering with seals, lashed forward, aiming straight for Satsuki’s legs. She didn’t move—her mere presence melted the tip of the serpent’s tail to steaming bone.

 

Airi’s hair whipped around her like a banner of war as she summoned her fan. Glyphs ignited in the air, slicing in all directions. The patterns weren’t meant to wound—they were meant to bind. But every strand of paper talisman she sent toward Satsuki curled into ash before touching her.

 

The dream and reality fully merged. Thunder cracked. The garden’s sakura trees rotted into black husks.

 

Haru took the offensive, his origami shikigami exploding from his sleeves like an army—paper cranes turning into razor-winged hawks, paper spears spinning with wind magic, battering at Satsuki’s defenses. She stepped through them like they were mist.

 

When the hawks failed, he snarled.

 

 “Jorōgumo—hunt!”

 

The spider-demon manifested—a towering, kimono-clad woman with eight jointed legs and fanged beauty. Her webs of steel-thread lashed out, wrapping Satsuki’s arm—only for Satsuki to tear free, the demoness hissing as one of her legs snapped.

 

Then she moved.

 

Her form blurred, reappearing behind Haru. Midori barely intercepted, but the fox’s cry was high and pained—its body smoking as Satsuki’s aura burned its ethereal flesh.

 

Airi’s voice roared over the sound of tearing reality.

 

“Haru! She won’t go down. There’s only one way!”

 

He turned, eyes wide.

 

“No—Mother, you can’t—”

 

“I can. And I will.”

 

Airi stepped forward, blood running from her nose from the spiritual strain. With one gesture, she inscribed a circle in the air, and it locked—a binding field powered not by talismans, but by her own life essence. Chains of light erupted from her wrists and coiled around Satsuki’s limbs.

 

 “Yuna!” she shouted, voice breaking. “Prepare the binding—this is your chance!”

 

Haru understood.

He slammed his palm to the ground.

 

 “Kiri—enclose us.”

 

The fox’s tails stretched into a solid dome, sealing him, Airi, and Satsuki inside. Inside the dome, every second was a battlefield of raw spirit energy—Satsuki tearing at the chains, Haru forcing his remaining shikigami to hold her down, their fangs and claws dripping with his own blood as fuel.

 

Yuna’s heart pounded in her ears. She could barely breathe as she began her own ritual—her voice trembling but steady.

 

“Kono utsuwa ni yadoru kage, awaremi naki mono yo.

Chi to tomo ni kizamare shi sadame, Kono katashiro ni ima, tojikome yo. Atsume yo, yami no koto no ha.

Shizume yo, arashi no ibuki.

Tsunagu wa, kami no shimesu ito.

Toki wa michita, towa no fūin.

Kore ni, osamare”

English Version

“Shadow that dwells in this vessel, you without pity.

Your fate, carved with blood, Now, into this doll, be confined.

Gather, words of darkness.

Subside, breath of the storm.

The thread that binds is shown by the gods.

The time has come, an eternal seal. Into this, be contained.”

 

Inside the dome, Haru turned to her.

 

 “Do it! Don’t stop!”

 

Airi met Yuna’s gaze one last time—her eyes soft despite the fire raging around her.

 

 “Live, my daughter.”

 

The binding circle ignited—pure, blinding white.

Satsuki let out a shriek that split the air, her form being torn apart by the seal. But in that same moment, Haru coughed blood, the Jorōgumo crumbling to dust. Airi’s chains dissolved with her body.

 

When the dome fell…

Only Yuna stood.

Her mother and brother lay lifeless, their faces peaceful despite the carnage. The air was still, but deep in the fading shadows, the presence of the Kōgō-shiki lingered. Watching. Waiting