The air around Renji was thick — not with smoke, but with something heavier. Guilt. Fear. And something unspoken that settled on his chest like a stone pressing down on a fragile memory.
He had barely recovered from the vision of Asami when his eyes were drawn to the shrine's altar.
There was something there now.
A book. Old, covered in dust, and bound in what looked like ash-gray skin. It hadn't been there before. The candle — though blown out — was now flickering again. Not with flame, but with a cold blue light.
Renji reached for the book. His hands trembled.
The moment his fingers touched it, he was pulled inward.
Not his body — his mind.
---
He stood now in a barren field of white sand, under a blood-red sky. There was no wind, no sound. Just silence.
Until a voice pierced it.
"Renji Kurobane."
He turned. A woman stood behind him. Her face was hidden behind a fox mask, her hair jet black, tied with silver thread.
"I am Tsuki-no-Miko — the Moon Priestess," she said. "And you… are late."
"Late for what?" he asked, confused.
"For your awakening."
She raised her hand, and the ground beneath Renji cracked. Shadows burst from the cracks, taking shape — each one a version of himself, twisted, broken, crying, screaming.
"They are the selves you buried. The prayers you forgot. The pain you never faced."
Renji stepped back. "Why are you showing me this?"
"Because the curse is not just a weapon, Renji. It is a memory. And memory is power."
One of the shadow-Renjis lunged at him, screaming: "You let them die!"
Renji shouted, "No! I tried—!"
But he knew the truth.
He ran that day. He had always run. From the house fire. From Asami's scream. From the shadow that devoured them.
Tsuki-no-Miko watched him, unmoving. Then she said something that stopped his breath.
"Your curse is not a punishment. It's a seed."
"A seed… for what?" he whispered.
She stepped closer and whispered:
"For the world that will be born when this one burns."
Suddenly, she vanished.
And Renji woke up.
---
The shrine was still.
The book in his hand had changed. Its cover now glowed with silver runes, and inside was a map — not of a place, but of names. Forgotten clans. Lost bloodlines. Marked symbols. One stood out:
"Senzaki."
"Akuma..." Renji breathed.
The name matched the boy who watched him in the shadows.
But what connection did they share?
And why was Renji's surname also part of the same circle?
He closed the book and stood up, mind spinning.
---
Far from the shrine, Akuma stood before a burning tree. Each flame whispered secrets in an ancient tongue.
Behind him, another figure appeared. Female. Her presence sharp, cold.
Her name was Kagura Mori, a girl with eyes like frozen glass and a chain of bells around her wrist.
"You made contact with him," she said flatly.
"Yes," Akuma replied.
"Was it worth the risk?"
Akuma smirked. "He's not ready yet… but his soul is starting to fracture. That's when we'll move."
Kagura looked up at the sky. "The red moon rises in three nights. If he doesn't choose his path by then…"
"He'll break," Akuma finished.
They both stared into the fire.
---
Back in the city, Renji walked through the empty streets of Hoshimura, the cursed book tightly wrapped in cloth under his jacket. He passed the alley where he had first felt the voices.
This time, someone stood there.
A girl with short white hair and bandages over her eyes.
She didn't move.
But as Renji passed, she whispered:
"The forgotten prayer… must never be spoken aloud."
Renji turned around, but she was gone.
The night had grown colder.
And he felt it now — truly — something had begun.
And there was no turning back.