The Pale Horseman

It was— It was fine. Hoshino heaved, his eyes wide and blinking, his heart screaming that he was still alive. It was fine. Everything was fine. He hadn't pissed himself yet… that was good. He was fine in the backside department, too. Nagamori Arisa’s fingers were pressed into his temples instead.

But that sensation… the way her nails burrowed into his eyeballs and popped them open like tapioca pearls. That shit felt real. That shit was real. The dummies—proxies, whatever. The things Hazama had prepared before they watched the footage in case it contained a curse. The damage had been redirected there. That saved him. However, that didn't solve the problem at all.

The problem was that he was raised from the ground and held by his head by a half-naked, hot chick. It was nice to feel his spine getting stretched for once, but aside from that, Hoshino was way too scared and occupied to be aroused. At least he could understand why Nagamori Arisa was considered pretty.

What she lacked in face value—literally—she made up for with proportions. One glance at her pale, chalk-like, and brittle body gave Hoshino the impression that she was very soft, especially in certain places. Her hair was long, silky. The way her bangs hid a part of her forehead. Cute. And that smile.

It was the kind of smile that felt like a perfect day. The kind of perfect where he would wake up after a long, good night’s rest, stagger toward the window, open the curtain, and have the right amount of sunlight wash over his body at the perfect temperature. A breakfast where his coffee was neither too hot nor too cold, made perfect by a freshly cooked Deez Bunz. Her eyes were a reminder that the world was good, that there was nothing else to do or desire but the person in front of her.

This was… a malevolent spirit?

Then, a bolt. Nagamori Arisa’s head cocked to the right; the blast bit through the left side of her face, splattering blood on the floor, staining the air red, and marking Hoshino’s confused glare with its taste. Her right eye widened, not in confusion, but with amusement. She smiled as blood oozed from her flesh, dripping over what was left of her ear and down to her chin.

Nagamori Arisa didn’t take her eyes off Hoshino until the very last moment.

“A…” one of the Butterflies shouted. “NA… NAGAMORI ARISA! SHE’S HERE—”

The hands that held Hoshino let go.

There was a snap. The sound of a bell. Then, a second where the colors of the world inverted. That chime—it was the bell of a shop letting everyone know a customer had walked in. It was followed by a wet thud, the revolting sound of meat hitting a wall. A second later, there was a pop and a splatter, as if someone had dropped a bucket of chunky red paint from the sky.

Before Hoshino could process what had happened, his body was shifted and thrown toward the building’s entrance. In the following moment, where time seemed to slow down even more, Hoshino experienced what it felt like to be a wheel. He rolled, feeling every centimeter of the floor, but it didn't help him forget the sensation of being touched by something so putrid. His mind went blank. Upon realizing he was on his knees, his first instinct—before he could even conjure a thought—was to rub his sleeves into his face and neck, fighting the urge to cry as a part of him wanted to burn down the building, and his clothes along with it.

“And here I thought you’d love the extra fan service.”

Hoshino stopped. The voice was familiar. A joke? Ah… a friendly face. But could it be a lie? No, it shouldn’t be. Hazama was here. She was beside him, smiling. She stayed on her knees, keeping her head down, her eyes focused on the fight erupting on the other side of the building.

Saved. Hoshino’s lips formed a weak smile. He was safe. Hazama had saved him. Oh fuck. He wanted to hug her, but he cleared his throat and scooched back like a fine gentleman instead. Pretending that the smell of vomit hanging in the air and wafting between them didn’t exist, he gave his neck one last good rub and a sniff before getting more comfortable on the floor. There was the sound of Satoru screaming and rallying his men. That was not much of the problem compared to the fact that Hoshino’s body was in so much pain that he could die.

Then, there was that sound again. Hoshino sighed and shifted his head back to the fight. Nagamori Arisa had sustained damage, but not enough. There was a bit of comfort in knowing that she was no longer looking at him. What was not comforting was that she kept taking hits, smiling as if the concept of pain was entirely new to her. And… that particular moment when she turned her head and about five Butterflies were crushed into paste, their remains splattered across the floor and the walls. Life, indeed, imitated art. It looked like a bad spread of chunky tomato sauce over an uncooked pizza.

“Hoshino-san—”

“I…”

Hoshino raised his voice, then cringed upon realizing he had nothing to say. He lowered his head. He wanted to apologize for failing to stop Nagamori Arisa. He balled his fists. A part of him screamed that Hazama hadn’t actually told him to do that; another part cried that he was just trying to overcompensate. Still, he wanted to apologize, but he couldn't bear the thought of Hazama having to tell him he’d done a "great job."

Hazama nodded to herself. “Hoshino-san… let’s focus on what we can do now, okay?” Her voice seemed more frail than usual.

It was hard for Hoshino to smile with the taste of vomit in his mouth, but her expression was a welcome sight. She didn’t adore him. She didn't look like she needed him. In fact, her face showed none of those things.

Hoshino regained his confidence. Other than the bags under her eyes and the slightly tired, reddish tint behind her glasses, Hazama looked fine. Hope was far from her face, but there was a hint that, where they stood, she had some control over the situation.

Hoshino rubbed the back of his neck. “Do we hit it until it dies?”

“I wish. However…” Hazama chuckled. “Nagamori Arisa… her curse is annoying. Remember the first time she was shot and retaliated? There was no motion to it. From the way her mana moved, it seemed like she didn’t attack at all. It’s possible that being attacked is a requirement for her curse to activate.”

Hoshino grimaced, remembering what Shiba Kakeru had gone through. “So the person who attacks her dies.” Hoshino cupped his chin. “There was no command. No tells, either. The guy who shot her just got crushed. I’d like to say her ability activates after a set time but… if that were true, half the Butterflies should be dead already.”

“Correct, Hoshino-san,” Hazama added. “From where we stand… or kneel… it’s much safer for us to assume she can choose her targets. But given that her curse is that powerful, it’s more likely she can only target people who have dealt damage to her.”

“It’s—”

“Bullshit?” Hazama snorted. “You’re pretty much on point, though.”

“Is this the part where you say you can beat her, no problem?”

“I mean, I can, but it’s complicated.” Hazama tightened her grip on her staff. “Counting both our proxies—if I remember correctly—there are ten for me and about nine left for you. Remember the dolls? The neat thing about curse magic is that it always targets the individual. So, as deadly as they are, the damage can be redirected elsewhere. That’s the main reason you’re not blind right now.”

Hoshino swallowed his spit.

“I don’t know exactly what that was, but what crushed your eyeballs was definitely a curse.” Hazama looked down, her voice losing a bit of its confidence. “It was fortunate. If she had chosen to crush your head like a watermelon with pure strength, you’d be dead right now. We also don't know the interval between her attacks, or if there even is one. Being able to take ten hits is good, but if she targets me repeatedly… I’d die in ten seconds. And if I do beat her, I’d have to fight Satoru and his goons again, and they'll be more committed to killing me.”

But she had him. Hoshino shook his head. Like he could actually say that to her.

“Making proxies is non-negotiable when fighting powerful malevolent spirits,” Hazama continued. “And it’s generally risky to fight one yourself with little to no information. The right thing to do would be to fight her with another malevolent spirit, specifically a contracted one but…”

“But?”

Hazama let out a tired laugh. “Mine refuses to hurt cute girls.”

Hoshino eyed Hazama up and down, not really knowing what to say—

“Hold dear the Summer showers back home… Hajime!”

A wave of mana exploded from the tip of Satoru’s wand. The air grew hotter, becoming impossibly dry. The pulse covered the entire building and, for a moment, transported them to a beach overlooking a horde of cloth, patchwork ships blotting the horizon.

Hoshino blinked, and he was back to reality. By then, the shadow cast by the pale moonlight above twisted and gathered to birth a figure—a mannequin made of crumpled cloth, a soldier carrying a dark flag.

The suffocating smell of rain filled the air. And as that soldier waved its black banner, more dark figures started to crawl out of the swirling pool of shadows it gathered. At Satoru’s command, these figures descended upon Nagamori Arisa, punching and kicking her down, biting at her flesh.

It seemed she would be overwhelmed. But she groaned, bored as she called forth the familiar chime and turned her attackers into paste. In response, the soldier Satoru summoned waved its flag again, calling down a black rain that connected the shadows of what was left of the dark figures and the crushed bodies of the Butterflies, bringing them back to the fight like nothing happened and glad to find themselves still alive.

The rain fell upon Hazama and Hoshino too, but it didn’t heal them at all.

Hazama sighed. “That’s nine for me and eight for you.”

“Fuck…” Hoshino stared at his beaten body, grimacing not at the pain but by the fact that he swore in front of Hazama. “But be honest with me, Hazama-san… Do you think they’ve got this?”

Hazama let out a laugh. “Nah. They’re going to lose. Hajime’s ability is neat, but it heals his opponent, too. His curse basically traps his opponents in a never-ending fight until one side runs out of mana or gives up; this is why Satoru is so good at dealing with malevolent spirits. But this is a bad matchup for him.”

Hoshino widened his grin. That fucker was finally getting owned and they had front row seats. “Yeah, this is kind of nice.”

“Didn’t know you were this bad,” Hazama replied with another laugh; she was sounding a bit meaner now. She was getting comfortable in her seat, too. “But to be honest… the best part about three-way battles is watching the desperate side push forward, only to get demolished. Satoru made a bad decision shifting his targets when he thought Nagamori Arisa was as good as dead after that headshot. Now, he’s trapped in a fight he knows he can’t win, and he knows I won’t lift a finger to save him. He has no option left but to try.”

Hoshino glanced at Hazama, keeping his stupid grin. “Please don’t tell the boss I’m like this.”

“I tend to forget things when I’m sleep-deprived, so don’t worry, Hoshino-san. I assume you’re the same?”

Hoshino laughed back. “I mean, I got beat up. HARD. Yeah, I’ll forget a thing or two. But man… look at them go—”

Hoshino didn’t move his eyes away from Hazama. Whatever the hell the others were doing, they seemed to be struggling. There was only the sound of Satoru barking orders and the sound of flesh getting crushed and slapping against the floor. Hoshino won’t be looking at that shit.

“While it’s true they have more pieces on the board, they didn't anticipate that they couldn't deal enough damage to destroy the monster in front of them.”

“So… what do we do? Do we wait for them to lose and then steal the kill, or…?”

Hoshino would be lying if he said that hearing Hazama talk about as if she was going to kill Nagamori Arisa in cold blood didn't bother him. To be fair… Nagamori Arisa was already dead. It was Hazama’s job too.

But what about him?

Nagamori Arisa had tried to kill him—even to the point of gouging his eyes out. It was just that no matter what he did, he couldn’t bring himself to entertain the thought of looking her in the eye and blowing her head off. The way she looked at him was fresh on his mind, too.

“Nah, we’ll take them both at the same time.” Hazama picked herself up from the ground, groaning as she stretched her back. “You’re forgetting that we have the strongest piece on the board.”

Ishigami jumped into view, his beautiful frame and magnificent hair carving a dark space into the moonlight. His mana surged. To Hoshino, it seemed like he was standing either in front of a burning building or the fucking sun itself poised to descend from the heavens.

“Lament the love that bloomed in vain… Ono no Komachi.”