From A Whisper to A Scream

Thanks to Honoka’s gift, tracking the voices was only a matter of time. This wasn't her spiritual "Listening" at work—this was her human ears taking center stage. The three of them soon found themselves beneath a massive railway bridge. Above, a train roared past, its rhythmic clattering against the tracks casting strobe-like flashes of light over the dark scene below.

High-pitched, muffled sobs filled the air. This time, the voice was undeniably human. There were no distorted monstrous undertones or unearthly shrieks. Just the raw, jagged cries of a soul in agony.

“Will you shut up already?!”

The sharp crack of a palm hitting skin cut through the sobs. The girl’s crying didn't stop, but it shrank into a desperate, low-volume whimper.

Honoka and Naomi gulped, their faces pale. Beside them, Eiji’s fist clenched with enough force to turn his knuckles white. His reason was slipping, replaced by a cold, sharp fury.

In the shadows of a small, hut-like office formerly used by the station staff, five silhouettes stood out against a feeble, flickering light. A few of the men were lounging, while two were occupied cornering a cuffed, terrified girl in the back of the structure. Their posture exuded a disturbing, sickening sense of ownership over her.

The girl fought her restraints, her eyes wide with the knowledge of how futile her struggle was. Eiji exhaled a long, trembling breath.

Was this what the Onryo wanted him to see? Was this why she had led them here?

It didn't matter. Not anymore. What mattered was that Eiji’s natural talent for attracting violence finally had a just cause.

As the girls moved closer, the five men noticed the approaching figures. They stepped out of the shack, puffing their chests as if they owned the ground they stood on.

“What the hell?!”

“Who the heck are ya?!”

“Better walk away, pal!”

Eiji didn't offer a greeting, and he certainly wasn't there for small talk. As he advanced, the air around him grew heavy. A figure coalesced at his side—a green aura of pure malice. The *Onryo* lunged forward, stopping inches from the hooligans' faces to deliver a blood-curdling, soul-shredding scream.

“WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!”

“AM I SEEING THINGS?!”

The men scrambled back in a fit of shock. Eiji seized the moment, closing the distance instantly.

“HUH?!”

He grabbed the nearest man by the collar and delivered a brutal, bone-cracking headbutt.

“Tsuyosh—”

Eiji hurled the dazed fool into his friends, capitalizing on their hesitation. He snapped a kick into the first one’s chin and followed with a spinning strike to the second’s gut.

“Screw you, moth—”

“WAAAARRRGGH!” The *Onryo’s* shriek tore through the air, vibrating the very marrow in their bones. The man's fighting spirit was snuffed out like a candle in a hurricane.

“WAAAAA!” He stumbled backward, clutching his head and ears in sheer terror.

Eiji glanced at the specter before she flickered into invisibility again. In the heat of the fight, he finally realized the truth: the presence was on his side. She wasn't just haunting the area; she was hunting the predators.

Naomi and Honoka skillfully navigated the chaos, reaching the hut to help the girl. Meanwhile, the three remaining "unharmed" delinquents stared at Eiji’s fiery red glare, their teeth chattering uncontrollably. One of them emitted a foul odor, his courage having completely failed him.

Eiji reined in his urge to snap their necks, forcing himself to speak through gritted teeth.

“What did you do to that girl?”

“What... did... we... Aaah...” The man stammered, his words frantic.

“We... we found her on her way home... We thought she was beautiful, and A-Akira said we could grab her and do as we please!”

“Akira?”

“The guy you just knocked out! He roped us into this! He said it would be cool if we acted all gang-like! He did things and we just looked! When we spoke of letting her go, he refused, and maybe we followed along, but—”

“How long?” Eiji’s voice was a low, dangerous growl.

“Since this afternoon. We thought if she reported us, we’d be in trouble! Akira said we couldn't let her go back, so—”

Eiji had heard enough. This wasn't a "prank" or a delinquent scrap. These sub-humans had plunged into the darkest depths of criminal depravity.

“Enough.” Eiji’s fists crackled with red energy. He wanted to incinerate them, or better yet, let the Onryo tear them apart piece by piece.

The specter shrieked again, hovering closer. To the terrified men, she was now fully visible. They wailed in horror, clutching their heads as their minds buckled under the spiritual pressure.

“Make it stop! Please!”

“Oh,” Eiji said, his eyes glowing like embers. “I will.”

⌁◉⌁

With the thugs finally subdued—sprawled out like trash on the pavement—Eiji joined Honoka and Naomi. The air in the small shack was thick with the girl’s raw, uncontrollable anguish. Naomi was rubbing her back in soothing circles, while Honoka had already draped her own windbreaker over the girl’s bruised arms. The red mark on her cheek from Akira’s blow was angry and swollen, a jagged contrast to her pretty, tear-streaked face.

On the floor, scattered cigarettes and several unsheathed knives lay glinting in the weak light—a grim testament to what would have happened if Akira had been left to his own devices for the rest of the night.

“Those bastards…” Eiji muttered, his shadow looming over the scene. He had half a mind to go back outside and break whatever bones were left intact.

“It’s okay. No one will hurt you now,” Naomi whispered, her voice a steady anchor.

“We’re here. It’s over now. We’ve got you,” Honoka added, her hand resting gently on the girl’s shoulder.

Suddenly, the room was flooded with a vibrant, emerald glow. The temperature plummeted, and the girl’s sobs caught in her throat as everyone looked up. The ghastly figure of the *Onryo* glided through the threshold, her translucent form weaving through the cramped space.

The atmosphere turned brittle.

“Senpai…?” Naomi breathed, her eyes wide.

Eiji stood his ground, his muscles coiled like a spring. He thought about stepping between them, but something stopped him. He’d never seen a specter move like this—without the jagged, twitching hunger of a predator. He stayed close, hand hovering near his pocket, ready to move if the spirit’s intent shifted.

But the spirit didn't lash out. She emitted a faint, sorrowful sound as she drifted toward the victim. At first, the girl cringed, her face twisting in terror at the deathly visage.

Then, the transformation began.

The terrifying, rot-filled mask of the *Onryo* softened. The glow grew radiant and warm, and for a fleeting second, the spirit regained her human form—a beautiful young woman with fair skin and kind hazel eyes. She leaned in, her translucent face hovering inches from the girl she had saved.

With a small, final smile, the woman began to dissipate. Her form broke apart into shimmering light particles, hovering in the air like a swarm of silent fireflies.

In that moment of dissolution, a soft echo—a residual vibration of a human soul—rang clearly inside Honoka’s head:

“I’m glad… you didn’t meet the same fate.”

Eiji heaved a long, heavy sigh. He produced a glass vial, but he didn't use it. The specter had exorcised herself. By protecting another from her own tragedy, she had fulfilled her final wish and found the peace that had eluded her.

The nightmare ended at the police station, followed by a hospital wing. The news cycle exploded over the incident, and while the four captors were dragged toward long, fierce sentences, their saviors vanished into the shadows of the city. One of them, after all, wasn't even of this world anymore.

Eiji left a discreet tip regarding the construction site. When the authorities searched the machines, they found what he knew was there: a body concealed within the set concrete. It was the missing dancer from *Tsutsu Girls*. She had been tortured and discarded, but her spirit had endured long enough to ensure no one else would join her in the dark.

Her name was Yuki. When the three of them looked at her photograph back at the clubroom, they made a silent promise to remember her.

Still, Eiji was skeptical. He was an exorcist; he dealt in binaries of salt and fire. How could a specter contain its bloodlust? How was it possible for a soul to pass on without a struggle? Were exorcists just needlessly violent, or was Yuki a singular fluke in a world of monsters?

Eiji didn't have the answers yet, but as he looked at Naomi and Honoka, he knew one thing for certain: what he’d seen wasn't a hallucination. It was real. And if it was real, it meant there was a lot more to this job than just killing.