The mission took them to a secluded forest village in Ibaraki Prefecture—fog-choked and windless, as if time itself had paused to watch. The trees loomed tall and crooked, their gnarled branches forming twisted arches overhead. The dirt paths were overgrown, and moss crawled up the sides of decaying houses nestled between the woods. The air smelled of wet bark and something fouler, like rust and rot clinging to their tongues like a warning. Wooden homes leaned tiredly into the fog, their windows shuttered as if the village was trying to shut out the world. Even the birds held their breath.
They stood at the edge of a narrow trail, the mist curling around their ankles like fingers. A broken seesaw rested in an abandoned clearing, half-swallowed by ivy. A child's shoe sat alone near the roots of an ancient cedar.
"This place gives me the creeps," Gojo muttered, hands in his pockets, sunglasses fogged over. "And I like creepy."
"Five children," Geto said, ignoring him. He had a small notebook open, flipping through the case details. "Ages seven to ten. All disappeared within the last ten days. No witnesses, no cursed energy residue, no ransom demands. Just... claw marks."
"Jagged ones," Kishibe added, crouching to trace a gouge left in the bark of a tree, half-hidden by moss. "Three claws. Deep. Not mechanical. Something alive."
"Yaga said it might be a Cursed Womb. Something born in secret. Fed by grief," Geto said, his voice low. "The last report said all five kids complained of nightmares before they vanished. Nightmares about something in the woods calling their names."
"A curse born from isolation, guilt, or maybe even the grief of a parent," Kishibe murmured. "This place... it smells like abandonment. People here are carrying more than silence."
They looked up as an old woman hobbled past them, eyes downcast, clutching a rosary of faded beads. She didn't even acknowledge them.
"You get the feeling they know something?" Gojo asked, tilting his head. "Or maybe they just stopped hoping someone would come."
Geto closed the notebook. "We split up. I'll question the locals. Gojo, you scout the forest perimeter for any cursed energy traces. Kishibe—check out the old shrine they mentioned in the report. The one half-swallowed by roots."
Kishibe stood, fingers resting lightly on the hilt of his short blade. "Fine. But if something's hiding in those trees, I'm not climbing after it."
Gojo grinned. "That's fine. You're the bait."
Kishibe didn't laugh. "I'll slit your throat."
Geto sighed. "Can we not do this today?"
The fog thickened as they stepped apart, vanishing one by one into the woods.
---
The shrine sat deep within the forest, cradled by roots that had split its stone foundation. Kishibe climbed the steps slowly, one hand resting on the hilt of his blade, the other brushing the surface of damp, cracked wood. Something was watching him.
Inside, the air was colder. Offerings had turned to rot. A faint trail of dried blood led from the altar down into a cracked fissure in the floorboards. He crouched, eyes narrowing at the trace of cursed energy drifting upward like steam.
Far below, something stirred.
---
Gojo found broken twigs and faint footprints beneath the pine canopy. Small. Bare. The trail snaked between the trees toward a hollowed-out stump near a ravine. He pressed a hand to the bark, his Six Eyes flickering behind his glasses.
"It's old," he muttered. "But awake."
He didn't sense a barrier, which meant it wasn't hiding—just waiting. He stepped into the ravine. Darkness swallowed him.
---
Geto sat on a porch beside an old farmer, watching the mist roll over distant treetops. The man's hands trembled even when they were still.
"They hear it at night," he whispered. "The forest crying. That's what we call it. After the first child vanished, we stopped speaking its name."
"Did anyone see it?" Geto asked.
"Only once. My nephew. He saw something crawling out from under the roots. It looked like a child but moved like... like a spider. It had a face like his missing sister."
Geto stood. That was enough.
---
They met again near the village shrine, where the woods thinned just enough to show the moon. The mist thickened. The curse made its move.
It burst from the tree line—lanky, grotesque, limbs too long, its skin translucent like insect wings. Its face was a patchwork of the five missing children's. It wailed in five voices at once.
Gojo moved first, shielding the area with a thin veil to keep civilians out. "I've got the range!" he shouted.
"Then I'll handle the close," Kishibe growled, launching forward, blade flashing.
Geto's hand twitched, summoning two mid-grade curses to bind the creature.
But it was strong. It tore through the binds and threw Kishibe into a tree. He landed hard, coughing blood.
One of Geto's summons exploded in his face, corrupted by the enemy's presence.
Gojo blinked into close range, landing a brutal Red blast, knocking the curse into a tree trunk. "Now, Kishibe!"
Wounded but standing, Kishibe charged, his blade gleaming with cursed energy. He carved through the curse's midsection—but something held on.
"Help… please…"
The trio froze.
A girl, no older than eight, stood by a splintered pillar. Her white dress was stained and her face pale with fear. Somehow, impossibly, she'd wandered into the shrine.
"Shit," Gojo hissed. "Where the hell did she come from?"
"She's bait," Kishibe growled. "Or a hostage."
The curse shrieked again, pulling itself toward the child.
Kishibe broke formation.
"Wait—Kishibe!" Geto shouted, but it was too late.
Kishibe reached her first, scooping her up in one arm as his blade lashed out with the other. The curse lunged—and Gojo blinked into its path, driving a palm into its face with cursed energy blazing.
"I got this!" Gojo shouted. "Get her out!"
Kishibe didn't answer. He sprinted from the shrine with the girl clinging to him. Her little arms trembled around his neck.
"You're okay now," he muttered, not knowing if it was a lie.
She looked up at him with teary eyes "Will you save me?"
He didn't answer.
Outside the shrine, Geto regrouped with them. "We'll end it quick."
The curse crashed out after them, enraged. Geto unleashed his strongest spirit—an obsidian hawk that pierced the curse's eye. Gojo blurred back into view, covered in bruises but grinning.
"Time to send you back to hell," he said.
Kishibe stepped forward. The blade in his hand gleamed. One final cut—activated Severance. The curse began to unravel.
And then—
A sickening crack.
A final thrashing limb lashed out blindly, fast and furious. The girl had tried to follow Kishibe, stumbling forward as he lunged. The curse's appendage struck her mid-run.
"No!" Kishibe's voice was raw.
He caught her before she hit the ground.
"Stay with me," he whispered, pressing his hand against the wound.
Blood pooled.
"I was gonna go home…" she whispered. "You smell like mama did."
She smiled.
And then she stopped breathing.
Silence.
Geto dropped to his knees. Gojo looked away.
Kishibe stared down at her tiny body in his arms. His grip tightened.
He didn't speak. Didn't cry. But his entire frame trembled.
The sun dipped low behind the trees.
Another life lost.
Not to the curse.
To the world they chose to walk.
---
That night, they didn't speak on the train ride back. Geto sat with his arms folded, head low. Gojo looked out the window, his glasses hiding his eyes.
Kishibe held the girl's small ribbon in his hand the whole ride back.
And no one told him to let go.