The end of the month came faster than Miyoshi expected. With nowhere else to go, he scrambled to find a place. A small check from his grandma helped, just enough to cover the deposit on a run-down apartment where the walls were thin enough to hear the neighbors arguing at night. The kitchen sink leaked, the heater barely worked, and the whole place carried a smell that never quite went away. But it was his.
His grandfather's old truck sat parked outside, a reminder of the past he wasn't sure how to carry. Barely settled in, he drifted through work, came home to silence, and wondered if being on his own was supposed to feel different. The weight in his chest never left, but at least he wasn't fighting with Shamika anymore.
Then, one afternoon, his phone rang.
He almost ignored it, expecting another bill collector, but something told him to check. The
moment he saw the name flashing on the screen, his stomach dropped.
Baxton Correctional Facility
His fingers hovered over the answer button before he finally pressed it.
A static-filled pause. Then a familiar voice.
"Miyoshi."
For a moment, he couldn't speak.
"Kanda?" His own voice sounded strange to him.
"Yeah. I'm out."
Miyoshi exhaled, running a hand down his face. "When?"
"Few hours ago. I need a place to crash."
It was direct. No sugarcoating, no hesitation. Typical Kanda.
Miyoshi didn't even think about it. "Yeah. I got a spot now. You can stay with me."
Kanda grunted in what might've been relief, but it was hard to tell. "Be there soon."
The line went dead.
Miyoshi sat there for a moment, phone still in his hand, staring at nothing. His brother was back.
Whether that was a good thing or not, he had no idea.
Kanda settled into the apartment quickly, taking the couch without complaint. He wasn't the same kid Miyoshi remembered. Prison had sharpened him, made him quieter, more observant. The jokes they used to share didn't land the same way anymore.
Still, they fell into a routine. Work, home, sleep. Repeat.
Kanda picked up a job at the same fried chicken joint where Miyoshi worked, and things seemed almost... normal.
Until the day Miyoshi disappeared during the rush.
The store was chaos. Customers lined up out the door, the kitchen was a war zone of frying oil and shouting, and the manager was one wrong move away from a breakdown. Kanda was running the front counter, calling orders, and handling cash like a machine. But something was off.
Miyoshi was missing.
He should've been there, taking orders, keeping up with the rush. But his register sat abandoned.
Kanda's irritation spiked as he scanned the room. Then he spotted it-the slightly open door to the break room.
"No. No way." Kanda Muttered under his breath.
Shoving past the kitchen staff, he pushed the door open.
There was Miyoshi, slouched in a chair, looking way too comfortable for someone supposed to be working.
"Yo, what the hell are you doing in here?" Kanda
snapped, barely keeping his voice down. "It's rush hour out there, and you're hiding out in the break room like it's your damn living room. You think you can just take a 15-minute break whenever you feel like it? You're not special, Miyoshi. We all got work to do, and the job don't care if you 'need a break.' We're in a damn rush, and you're out here slackin'. Again."
He shook his head in frustration.
Miyoshi let out a slow breath, not even looking up at first. "Man, relax," he said, his tone dripping with indifference. "I'm just taking a break. What, you think I don't know it's busy out there? Like I'm the only one not pulling my weight?"
He sat forward now, irritation creeping into his voice.
"We're all doing our part, right?" His gaze flickered to Kanda's clenched fists before narrowing.
"You don't need to lecture me like I'm some
damn kid, Kanda. I know what I'm doing... I just needed a minute to clear my head. It's not like I'm the only one slacking.. It's whatever."
Kanda's patience snapped.
"Look, I know you're trying to get your life together, but you ain't gonna get nowhere acting like this," he shot back. "Nobody is gonna respect you if you keep pulling this lazy crap. If you wanna keep making excuses and wasting your time, then stay in here. But don't think for one second that anyone owes you a damn thing."
Miyoshi's hands balled into fists. His whole body tensed, and when he finally spoke, his voice was lower, shaking with anger.
"You fucking sound like mom," he spat. "Acting all holy and shit. You're the LAST person I wanna hear talking about wasting time. When all you did when we were young was steal and skip school!"
Kanda's expression hardened. His jaw clenched, his nostrils flared-but instead of firing back, he turned on his heel and left the break room
without another word.
Miyoshi exhaled sharply, his whole body hot with frustration. He dug his fingers into his temples, willing the tension out of his skull. But it didn't go away.
He wasn't alone.
A soft shuffle of footsteps caught his attention. He looked up just in time to see Gwyneth-one of their coworkers-step inside. She had her phone in hand but slid it into her pocket as she leaned against the table near him.
She'd been standing outside. She'd heard everything.
For a moment, she just watched him, her expression unreadable. Then, finally, she spoke-her voice softer than Kanda's.
"Hey..its Gwyneth..i just wanted to let you know... you don't have to act like Kanda doesn't bother you."
She tilts her head, watching his expression.
"I get it-Kanda's rough, and yeah, he pushes too hard sometimes, but he's not wrong about everything. You can't just disappear when things get tough."
She pauses, waiting to see if he reacts, but when he doesn't, she sighs and sits across from him.
"Look, I'm not here to lecture you. I just... I know what it's like to feel lost. Like you're just going through alot, but nothing really clicks. Like maybe none of this even matters. And maybe that's why you're here instead of out there." (She gestures toward the store.) "But if you keep checking out like this, it's only gonna make things worse. You don't have to do this alone, you know."
She folds her hands together, glancing at him with something between understanding and curiosity.
"Actually... I was gonna head to the thrift shop
later-Me and my friends hangout, talk about spiritual belonging and other cool stuff. Nothing preachy at all, just a place to chill. Maybe it's not your thing, but I feel like... maybe you need something like that. Something more than just surviving the next shift."
She gives him a small, knowing smile.
"No pressure, but if you ever wanna come, just let me know."
Miyoshi leans back in his chair, arms crossed, staring at the table for a long moment. His jaw tightens like he's debating whether to even answer. When he finally does, his voice is quieter, less defensive.
"...You know..Gwyneth, back in middle school, I was that guy. The one everybody knew, the one always in the middle of things, cracking jokes, making sure nobody felt left out. I was good with people. I liked people." (He huffs out a laugh, shaking his head.) "Now? I don't even know who the hell I am anymore. I
don't talk to anyone, I don't show up when it matters, and everyone just looks at me like I'm some lazy screw-up. Now, I live in a crappy apartment and working this dead end job."
He glances at Gwyneth, hesitating, then he lets out a breath and rubs the back of his neck.
"So yeah. Maybe I'll go. Not 'cause I'm expecting some big, life-changing moment or whatever, but... I guess if there's even a chance I could find something-someone-that makes me feel like I'm not just wasting space, it's worth a shot."
He glances at her again, trying not to seem too eager, but there's a flicker of hope in his expression.
"When is it?"
(She smiles and responds.)
"Tomorrow around 6pm. Luckily we're both off."
After Discussing this, the day carried on.
Soon, the shift was over.

The next day, Miyoshi made his way into town where Gwyneth and her group friends had the coven. The thrift shop smelled of old books and incense, a mix of nostalgia and something faintly mystical. Shelves overflowed with trinkets, worn-down tarot decks, and clothing from every era imaginable. Dust caught in the
soft glow of warm lighting, making the place feel less like a store and more like a forgotten
relic of time.
"Hey, Everyone! This is Miyoshi. That's Lena and that's Marco." Gwyneth said pointing towards them. They waved towards Miyoshi, welcoming him.
"Nice to meet you guys."
Miyoshi said as he flipped through a rack of jackets, pulling out a deep velvet one. He held it up with a dubious expression. "So, are we here for, like, spiritual enlightenment, or are we just thrifting?"
Gwyneth smirked as she rummaged through a stack of odd ceramic teapots. "Both. You never know when a haunted teapot might be the key to self-discovery."
Marco, who had been idly flipping through a collection of tarot decks, grinned. "Or when you'll find a cursed scarf that makes you better at taxes."
Lena, ever deadpan, barely glanced up from a box of old pendants. "Still waiting on that one."
Miyoshi scoffed, tossing the jacket back onto the rack. "Right. Life-changing fashion aside, what exactly do you guys do here? Sit in a circle, chant in Latin, and summon good vibes?"
Gwyneth waved a hand dismissively. "Pretty much. Except no Latin. Marco tried once, and the store almost caught fire."
Marco shrugged. "Coincidence. Probably."
Lena gave him a pointed look. "Specifically, the microwave was caught on fire."
"A very specific coincidence," Marco corrected.
Before Miyoshi could respond, the shop's front door creaked open. The small bell above it jingled, announcing the arrival of an unfamiliar figure. An old man shuffled in, wrapped in a tattered coat that seemed too heavy for the mild weather outside. His hunched frame and shadowed eyes made him look like he had stepped out of a different time altogether.
The air in the shop shifted, a strange tension settling over the group.
Then, the old man's gaze locked onto Miyoshi.
He lifted a crooked finger and pointed directly at him. "You... you are about to meet someone."
Miyoshi blinked. "Uh. Okay?"
The old man didn't react to his confusion. Instead, he simply added, "Choices have consequences."
A beat of silence followed. The group exchanged uncertain glances.
Lena leaned closer to Gwyneth and whispered, "Did we just get side-quested?"
Gwyneth exhaled slowly. "Feels like it."
Miyoshi crossed his arms, glancing between the old man and his friends. "Meet who?"
The old man didn't answer. Instead, he turned toward the door with dramatic finality, the folds of his coat swaying as he took slow, deliberate steps. "Remember... consequences," he murmured one last time before stepping out.
The bell jingled again.
Silence settled in its wake.
Miyoshi turned to the others, brows raised.
"Okay, so. That was weird, right? Like, not just me?"
Marco nodded, entirely unbothered. "Nah, that was some classic 'mysterious old guy' energy. Very 'your fate is written' vibes."
Lena suddenly snapped her fingers, her expression shifting from confusion to intrigue. "Wait. What if-hear me out-he was sent by... the Ultimate God?"
Gwyneth groaned. "Lena-"
"I mean it!" Lena insisted, eyes wide with conviction. "What if the Ultimate God sent him here as, like, a cosmic warning?"
Miyoshi sighed, rubbing his temples. "Who is the Ultimate God?!"
Ignoring Miyoshi, Gwyneth reached for a tarot deck resting on the shop's counter. "Alright, only one way to find out. We do a reading."
Miyoshi eyed the deck warily but ultimately
sighed and sank into a nearby chair. "Fine, but if the cards say I'm about to die, I'm asking for a refund."
"If you die, you won't need a refund," Lena pointed out.
"Comforting. Thanks."
Marco, ever the dramatist, lit a candle from a cluster of mismatched ones on a nearby table. Lena watched expectantly as Gwyneth shuffled the deck with practiced ease, then laid out three cards.
She stared at them.
"Huh."
Marco leaned forward. "What? What's 'huh'?"
Gwyneth hesitated. "It's just... weird. The spread isn't giving anything. It's like it's blank."
Miyoshi frowned, scooting closer. "What does that mean? That I'm spiritually boring?"
Lena, however, had gone eerily still. Slowly,
she turned to him, her voice serious. "No. It means you have no soul."
Then Silence.
Everyone stared at Miyoshi.
His mouth opened, then closed again. "...Excuse me?"
Marco nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, man. That tracks."
Miyoshi whipped his head toward him. "What the hell do you mean 'that tracks'?!
Lena tilted her head. "Do you, though?"
Miyoshi replied with doubt in his voice "YES?!"
Gwyneth frowned, shuffling the deck again as if she could force the cards to behave. "Okay, okay, let's try again. Maybe it was a fluke."
She laid out another spread.
Nothing.
The cards sat on the table, meaningless. A void.
Her expression darkened. "...Miyoshi, this doesn't usually happen."
He let out a nervous laugh. "This is ridiculous."
The shop bell jingled again. Everyone flinched, half-expecting the cryptic old man to have returned. But it was just another customer, oblivious to the existential crisis happening in the back of the store.
Miyoshi slumped back in his chair, rubbing his face. "Okay. I have no soul and now talk of an "ultimate god" what the hell are yall smoking, I need some explanation!"
Gwyneth exhaled sharply and rested her hands on the table, staring at Miyoshi like she was trying to figure out the best way to
explain something he wouldn't want to hear.
"The Ultimate God," she began, her voice slower, more careful now, "is the one who watches over all souls. He doesn't create them, doesn't guide them. He just... confirms when it's time for a soul to move on."
Miyoshi narrowed his eyes. "Move on to where?"
"The Resting Plane," Gwyneth continued. "That's where souls go when they've expired."
Miyoshi scoffed, running a hand through his hair. "Right. So you're saying there's some cosmic accountant keeping track of whether our souls are still in working condition?"
"Yes," Lena said immediately.
Miyoshi sat back in his chair, his lips pressing into a thin line. "Okay, so let's just assume, for a second, that any of this makes sense. What does it have to do with me?"
Gwyneth's fingers tapped against the table as she hesitated, then finally said, "You're
supposed to be dead."
The words landed with a strange weight, cutting through the usual sarcasm and jokes.
Miyoshi barked out a laugh, but it was humorless, forced. "Yeah, okay."
Gwyneth didn't smile. "Think about it, Miyoshi. The signs. The fact that the tarot deck isn't picking up anything. That old man showing up out of nowhere to warn you about 'consequences.'"
Marco raised a hand lazily. "Not to mention, you never really get sick, do you?"
Miyoshi frowned. "...No?"
"And you don't really dream either, right?"
His frown deepened. "...That's normal."
The he let out an exasperated breath. "So I'm some kind of cosmic mistake?"
"Or worse," Marco said, voice dropping slightly. "You're being kept here."
Miyoshi huffed. "This gotta be some bullshit, like come on guys. This has the same believability as Ghost Adventures. Super damn Fabricated."
Miyoshi's words hung in the air, his skepticism thick enough to cut. The others exchanged glances, silent communication flickering between them. Gwyneth set down the tarot deck with deliberate care, her fingers drumming against the wooden table. Marco exhaled through his nose, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed. Lena, ever unreadable, simply studied Miyoshi with a sharp gaze, like she was trying to see past his skin and into whatever truth lay beneath.
They were all concerned-he could see it in the way their postures had subtly shifted. But there was something else, too. A quiet understanding. They weren't about to force anything on him.
Gwyneth was the first to speak. "We're not asking you to believe us," she said, her voice steady but cautious. "This isn't some
intervention, and we're not trying to tell you who you are." She hesitated, then added, "But something is going on, Miyoshi. You can feel that, right?"
Miyoshi scoffed, running a hand through his hair. "What I feel is like I just walked into a low-budget horror movie."
Marco grinned, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Hey, at least it's not found footage levels of bad. Yet."
Lena, still watching him, finally spoke. "If you want to drop this, we'll drop it," she said, matter-of-fact. "But you can't tell me you don't feel off after everything that just happened."
Miyoshi exhaled through his nose and leaned forward, pressing his palms against the table. "Okay," he said finally. "Let's say, for the sake of argument, that something is wrong. What am I supposed to do about it?"
Gwyneth considered for a moment before responding. "We start with small steps. No sudden panic, no jumping to conclusions. Just... awareness."
Marco tilted his head. "And, y'know, maybe avoid shady old men who issue cryptic warnings."
Miyoshi let out a dry laugh, shaking his head.
"Great. So I'll just casually keep an eye out for signs of my impending existential doom. No pressure."
Gwyneth smiled, but there was something sympathetic in it. "No pressure," she echoed.
The tension in the shop didn't vanish, but it settled-less of a crushing weight, more of a presence lingering just beneath the surface. Miyoshi knew they were worried. But for now, that would have to be enough.
Miyoshi prepared to leave while everyone exchanged concerned looks.
Marco offered a half-smile, though his eyes betrayed his worry.
"Alright, that's enough cosmic mystery for tonight-stay safe, okay?"
"Okay Marco. Good night guys." Miyoshi waved goodbye, grabbed his keys and left the shop. It was starting to rain. Under a flickering streetlamp, his battered truck waited like an old friend. He climbed in, started the engine, and pulled away, the comforting hum of the motor easing some of the tension in his chest.
Driving through rain-slicked streets, his thoughts still swirled with the evening's surreal warnings.
Miyoshi arrived back home,
The apartment was dimly lit, and the soft glow from the television flickering against the walls. Rain drummed steadily against the
windowpanes, the rhythmic sound filling the quiet space.
He shut the door behind him with a little more force than necessary, kicking off his shoes and running a hand through his damp hair.
His head was still swimming from the night's events, the cryptic old man's words, the tarot cards refusing to cooperate, the weight of his friends' concerned stares.
And now, the last thing he wanted was to walk into an argument waiting for him at home.
Kanda was sprawled on the couch, one arm draped over the back, eyes half-lidded as he watched the television.
He barely acknowledged Miyoshi's arrival, offering nothing more than a lazy glance before turning back to whatever dull show was playing.
Miyoshi exhaled sharply, ignoring the tightness in his chest.
He dropped his keys onto the counter and leaned against it. "You won't believe the kind of night I just had."
Kanda hummed, a vague sound of acknowledgment.
Miyoshi crossed his arms. "I was at the thrift shop with Gwyneth and the others, and this old guy walked in. Real cryptic, pointed straight at me and told me I was 'about to meet someone' and that 'choices have consequences.' Then he just-walked out."
No reaction.
Miyoshi pushed off the counter and walked a little closer. "And then we did a tarot reading, and the cards wouldn't read me. Like, at all. Gwyneth says that's not normal."
Kanda yawned.
A long, slow, drawn-out yawn.
Miyoshi's eye twitched.
"...Are you kidding me, right now?" His voice was sharp, cutting through the quiet.
Kanda blinked at him, stretching his arms before settling back into the couch. "It's late," he said, voice even. "And you always have some dramatic story. This one just sounds... extra."
Miyoshi scoffed, his hands clenching at his sides. "Oh, I'm sorry, am I boring you?"
Kanda barely reacted, just shifting his weight as if even engaging in this conversation was an inconvenience.
"I'm just saying," he muttered, rubbing the side of his temple, "maybe start with an apology before you start throwing attitude."
Miyoshi's brow furrowed. "Apologize for what?"
Kanda finally looked at him, eyes unreadable. "For being an ass at work."
Miyoshi let out a bitter laugh. "Oh, that's rich, coming from you."
Kanda shrugged, unfazed. "I don't claim to be a saint. But you came home looking to pick a fight."
Miyoshi gritted his teeth. "I came home looking for someone to talk to. But apparently, that was a mistake."
Kanda exhaled, shaking his head slightly, as if Miyoshi was the one missing something obvious.
Miyoshi's glare sharpened. "what? Something
else you wanna say, smart-ass?"
Kanda didn't answer right away. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, expression calmer now-colder, but not indifferent. "You know," he said, voice quieter, "when I was younger, mom put you on a pedestal. Said you were the "perfect kid". Bragged about you to other parents." He let out a humorless chuckle. "And you know what else? She forgot to actually be my mom. She was too busy telling me how proud she was of YOU to actually notice me. You never had to fight for mom's attention or go through hard aches."
Miyoshi stared at him, his anger momentarily replaced by something else-uncertainty, maybe. "Kanda-"
But Kanda wasn't done. "So yeah, maybe I've got a distaste for people who disconnect from reality. People who WHINE, think they're the center of the universe, and thinks they're the ONLY one who deals with shit. " His gaze flickered up to meet Miyoshi's, something sharp beneath the exhaustion. "You ever notice that about yourself? How you act self centered-" he gestured vaguely, "-like other people's problems don't matter?"
Miyoshi felt his pulse hammering in his ears. "That's not-" He cut himself off, jaw tightening. "That's not true."
Kanda tilted his head slightly, considering him. Then, with a tired sigh, he leaned back into the couch again, as if the conversation had drained the last of his energy.
"If you say so."
The words were dismissive, and somehow, that was worse than outright anger.
Miyoshi headed to bed after the confrontation, the feelings of anger slowly come back. As he lie in bed and began to think about what Kanda said.
I do care about others!
I'm not disconnected!
And that fact he's crying and talking shit like this, in my own house after I let him stay, is fucking crazy..
Great...now I sound like her..
I don't have time for this..
I got work tomorrow..
Over the next few days, Miyoshi couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that something was wrong-something beyond the fight with Kanda, beyond the strange old man and the cryptic tarot readings. It started small: flickers of movement at the edge of his vision, like shadows skittering just out of reach. At first, he chalked it up to exhaustion-late nights, too much on his mind. But then it happened more frequently.
One evening, while watching TV, he caught a glimpse of something-a dark, shapeless blur darting across the corner of the living room.
He blinked, rubbed his eyes, and it was gone.
"Great," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm seeing things now. I'm not letting this get to me. You're just seeing things."
Miyoshi decided to go to bed to sleep it off.
The next morning, he found his phone screen acting up. The display blinked out, only to flicker back to life moments later with static-like lines cutting across it. His laptop, too, had started behaving erratically, freezing randomly and sending strange error messages that didn't make sense.
Then it escalated. Late one night, while attempting to cook a quick meal, the lights in the kitchen dimmed and flickered violently before going out altogether. The microwave began buzzing and flickering, as if on the verge of some electrical meltdown. Miyoshi unplugged everything, heart racing. But as soon as the power went out, the strange feeling in the air intensified.
Miyoshi froze, feeling a shift in the atmosphere, something cold and oppressive creeping into the room. It was the same sensation he'd felt earlier at the thrift shop, only stronger, more tangible.
He'd just begun to mentally process what was happening when his phone buzzed. It was Gwyneth.
"Hey, Miyoshi can you be honest. Have you been experiencing anything since we did that reading at the shop?" the text read.
He blinked at it for a moment before responding.
"Like, you mean the weird shadows and electronics acting crazy? Yeah, I've been noticing stuff. Why, what's going on?"
A few seconds passed before Gwyneth responded, her words coming fast. "That's exactly it. Spirits are getting active around you. Stronger than usual, actually. I've been feeling a lot of strange energy lately, and I think it's all linked to you."
Miyoshi's mind spun. "Wait, how do you know this? How can you feel it? Are you... keeping tabs on me or something?"
Gwyneth didn't answer right away, and when she did, her response was more measured than before. "It's not about spying on you, Miyoshi. I have a process for tuning into these things. It's something I've done for years-connecting with energy, sensing shifts in the spiritual realm."
Miyoshi's fingers trembled slightly as he typed. "You're saying that's what's happening? Spirits are getting 'active' because of me?"
A long pause followed, and he could practically hear her steadying her thoughts before replying. "Yes. And it's more than just random occurrences. These entities, whatever they are, are getting closer. I think they're tied to you. There's something special about your energy."
Miyoshi's heart skipped a beat. "Special? What the hell does that mean?"
Gwyneth's next response came with a note of
hesitation, as if she was choosing her words carefully.
"It's like I told you before. I think supposed to be dead, Miyoshi. these spirits... they're drawn to you because you shouldn't be here. And that's why they're becoming more active around you. It's like the balance is off."
Miyoshi leaned against the counter, rubbing his temples. The weight of her words pressed down on him like a physical force. "This shit..can't be real..Gwyneth..what the hell is this? How am I supposed to be dead?"
Gwyneth didn't reply right away, but when she did, there was a gentleness in her tone. "I know this is a lot to take in, but I'm not making this up. You're not just seeing things. You're a part of something bigger-something that, to be honest, I don't fully
understand either."
Miyoshi didn't know how to respond. He wasn't sure if he believed everything Gwyneth was telling him, he still was trying to make sense of it.
Before he could respond, Gwyneth added one last message.
"I think you need to come to the shop tomorrow. We'll talk more. I can show you some things. But be careful, Miyoshi. Whatever's happening, it's starting to spiral."
Miyoshi stared at the message for a long time, feeling the cold air in the room settle deeper into his bones. He took a breath, trying to steady himself.
"Alright. I'll be there."
As he set his phone down, the strange feeling in the room seemed to thicken. The shadows in the corners of his vision flickered once more, and he shivered despite himself.
Whatever was happening, real or not. It was only just the beginning.
The weekend came swiftly, and Miyoshi knew he had to get to the thrift shop with Gwyneth. He quickly got in his truck and traveled across town.
As he neared a quieter district, the soft glow of his truck's dashboard illuminated the road ahead. Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted movement-an unsettling scene unfolding down a narrow alley.
Miyoshi slowed and pulled over, parking the truck a safe distance from the chaos. He stepped out into the cool night air. Under the weak light of a streetlamp, his gaze locked onto a woman in a light coat struggling as a tall, dark figure clad in matte black armor emerged from the shadows. The sight sent a jolt through him.
Rounding the corner, he froze at the horrific tableau: the woman, her face was lifeless, lay against the grimy wall while the armored figure knelt over her in a grotesque, almost ritualistic act. It was clear-she was dead..
Before Miyoshi could react, a low, gravelly voice cut through the silence. "You... you reek
of the void."
He spun around to see another gaunt creature stepping from the darkness- its eyes glinting with malevolent intent as it leaned in, nostrils flaring as if tasting Miyoshi's very essence.
"You're the one they warned me about," it spat, voice laced with contempt. "A soul-less anomaly among the living. And that makes you valuable-for the bounty on your existence."
Miyoshi's heart pounded as he stuttered, "the hell?!"
The creature cracked smile revealed jagged teeth as it continued, "You're mine, mortal."
Clenching his fists, Miyoshi demanded, "What are you?"
The creature crouched lower, its gaze unyielding. "Doesn't matter mortal, prepare to DIE!"
Miyoshi quickly backed away, but within seconds, the creature bolted at him. A flash of light stopped the creature in it's tracks and blinding Miyoshi. Something pulled him away and when his vision returned, he was back in his truck.
He was stunned, heart pounding out of his chest, and breathing heavily.
Suddenly a voice cut through the panic: