As the final echoes of the ritual faded, a profound stillness enveloped the temple. Ryoichiro’s body takes in slow breaths, revealing a disoriented relief. The once oppressive presence of the green reaper had dissipated, leaving a tranquil energy in its wake. Ed looked around, noticing the subtle shimmer of residual power still lingering in the air, a faint reminder of the intense ritual that had just transpired.

Risa, lying beside him, slowly shifted towards Ryoichiro, her exhaustion evident in the pale tremor of her body. The ritual had been physically draining, but the connection forged between them seemed to bind them even closer.

Yuko, standing nearby, appeared drained but resolute. Her hands trembled faintly as she gave Ed a weary nod of approval. Her calm authority had been replaced with a weary focus, the weight of the ritual’s toll evident in her posture.

Ed, who had initially been fearful and uncertain, now wore a mixture of relief and introspection. His earlier doubts seemed to have evolved into a thoughtful contemplation, reflecting on the ritual’s outcome and his role in it.

The temple, though still holding traces of the ritual’s intensity, felt more peaceful. The energy had settled, leaving behind a sense of quiet resolution.

Ed broke the silence. “I have to admit, I’m surprised by this ritual. If I recall correctly, shaping a soul usually works on couples or married people. You’re aware that Ryoichiro and Risa aren’t actually together-together, right?”

Yuko, her color slowly returning as she regained her composure, replied, “Love, particularly a deep and genuine love, is considered the strongest form of life energy in this universe. It can shape and influence spiritual entities, making it a crucial component in rituals that involve life force and soul manipulation. Ryoichiro’s love for Risa provides a stable and potent foundation for the ritual, as it channels positive, life-affirming energy. Love represents creation, growth, and protection, which contrasts with the green reaper’s association with death and decay.”

“The ritual doesn’t just copy Ryoichiro’s connection to the green reaper but transforms it. The ritual extracts the life-binding elements of Ryoichiro’s soul, which are intertwined with the green reaper, and attempts to replicate them within Risa’s soul, using the emotional bond as a template. The “copy” is not an exact duplicate but a reconfiguration that aligns with Risa’s energy, allowing the reaper’s influence to be transferred safely.”

“Beyond love, Risa’s spiritual or emotional resonance with Ryoichiro makes her the ideal candidate. This resonance might be due to shared experiences, similar life energy, or a specific compatibility in their spiritual auras. The ritual requires this resonance to ensure the transfer is smooth and doesn’t result in rejection or instability, which could have catastrophic consequences.”

“Love is the catalyst that makes the transfer possible. Without a deep emotional connection, the ritual would lack the necessary energy to reshape and re-anchor the green reaper’s bond. Love’s role is both practical and symbolic, ensuring the ritual succeeds in severing the dangerous connection while replacing it with something nurturing.”

“Alright, alright, I get it. Man, if these two could hear this right now, they’d be as red as beets,” Ed joked with a wry smile. He exhaled a long breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. The place was quiet, the tension slowly bleeding away. He looked down at his hands, no longer trembling, and felt a strange mix of relief and awe. He had been terrified, sure — but he had made it through. Maybe he wasn’t as rusty as he’d thought. The air still hummed with a faint, electric charge as the weight of the ritual settled. Ed slumped against the temple wall, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

The camera shifts to a downtown coffee shop. The café is nestled on a quiet corner of the city, bathed in the warm glow of late afternoon sunlight. Its large windows reflect the golden color of the setting sun, creating soft shadows on the cobblestone street outside. Inside, the atmosphere is cozy, with the scent of freshly brewed coffee and pastries filling the air. The sound of low chatter mingle with the gentle hum of lo-fi music playing in the background. Small wooden tables, spaced just far enough for privacy, are occupied by couples, students, and the occasional loner lost in a book.

Ryoichiro sat near the window, his fingers nervously drumming against the ceramic mug in front of him. He glanced out at the street, trying to steady his thoughts. Several days passed, but the weight of the ritual still hung over Ryoichiro like a shadow. He hadn’t slept well since then — too many thoughts, too many questions left unanswered. When Yuko had agreed to meet him at the café, he wasn’t sure what to expect. He only knew he needed answers. He didn’t expect her to say yes, much less suggest they meet in the middle of the city, in broad daylight. It felt strange, almost surreal.

The café was warm, inviting even, but Ryoichiro felt out of place. The normalcy of the scene — people chatting, the clink of coffee cups — contrasted sharply with the turbulence that churned inside him. When Yuko finally arrived, looking like any other person, it felt like a trick of the light. She walked through the door, appearing no different from any other human. Her usual ethereal presence was replaced by a more grounded, almost delicate appearance. In this form, she looked like a normal woman — her hair tied back in a neat ponytail, dressed in a simple blouse and skirt. No one would guess the power she held beneath the surface.

As she slid into the chair across from him, their interaction seemed unremarkable to the casual observer — just a couple meeting for coffee, exchanging small talk. But those who knew the truth, who could see beyond the veil of ordinary life, would recognize the sharp edge in the air, the tension of secrets held just beneath the surface.

To the world, they were simply two people sharing a quiet moment in a café. But for those who truly understood, they were far from ordinary. A few days after the ritual, Ryoichiro finally mustered the courage to ask the question weighing on his mind.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

“So, it’s over, right?” he asked, his voice tinged with lingering uncertainty. He shifted in his seat, rubbing his thumb against the side of the mug. The warmth of the ceramic barely registered through the numbness that crept into his limbs.

Yuko, calm as ever, nodded. “Yes. I just came from seeing Risa. I told her she needs to rest, but she’s free of the green reaper now. It left her, unaware of the full scope of what happened. The reaper believed your soul had already left the realm of the living. Mission failed, it likely returned to the world of the shinigami.”

Ryoichiro let out a small, relieved sigh but hesitated. “I should feel sad, but... I’m glad. Glad that maybe Mom isn’t bound anymore. Maybe she’s not struggling.”

Yuko’s voice softened, though her words were sharp. “That wasn’t your mother anymore, Ryoichiro. What it was was just a husk. Your last encounter with her was at the shrine.”

“I get that... mostly,” Ryoichiro replied, his gaze shifting away. “It’s just hard to let go, I guess. But wait — did you just say my soul isn’t in the realm of the living?”

Yuko met his gaze and gave a slight nod. “Yes. Fate... has already written you off, Ryoichiro. In her eyes... you no longer exist. The balance that once threatened you no longer applies. The green reaper is gone, and you... are considered deceased.” She held his gaze, waiting for the reality to settle in.

“Wha — I’m... dead!?” Ryoichiro’s voice wavered, his throat suddenly dry. His fingers twitched around the edge of the table, knuckles white as if holding on for stability. The words felt foreign in his mouth, as though speaking them aloud made them even more unreal. His heart hammered in his chest, but the irony wasn’t lost on him, the clinking of coffee cups fading and the light feeling harsher against his skin. Could a dead man still feel his heart race?

What did it mean to be dead? His mind reeled with questions he had no answers to. Did this change who he was? Could he still live a normal life? The idea of being dead felt wrong, like a piece of himself had been stripped away, leaving behind something hollow. And what about the people he loved — Risa, his friends — would they see him differently? Would he see them differently now?

“No, this can’t be right,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head. He felt alive. How could he be dead? His body hadn’t stopped working, his mind hadn’t shut down. “This has to be some kind of mistake.” But Yuko’s calm, unwavering expression told him otherwise. He blinked, his mind struggling to catch up with the reality that had just been thrust upon him. “I’m dead? Like... dead, dead?”

Yuko raised an eyebrow. “Do you feel dead?”

As the weight of Yuko’s words settled over him, Ryoichiro felt small, like a child facing the immensity of the universe for the first time. A cold emptiness filled the pit of his stomach. He was dead — no longer tethered to the life he once knew. And yet, here he was, still breathing, still existing. Was this existence, or merely a cruel imitation? Ryoichiro instinctively patted his body, feeling his chest. “Well, I mean, no... but what does that mean?”

Yuko’s expression remained unreadable. “When I said I was shaping Risa’s soul during the ritual, I was actually shaping both of yours. Risa’s soul has returned to its original state, and yours...”

Ryoichiro interrupted, alarm creeping into his voice. “Wait, are you saying I don’t have a soul anymore? What happens when I die? Do I just... cease to exist? No heaven or hell?”

“Let me finish,” Yuko snapped, her patience thinning. “Your soul was reshaped, like a newborn’s. Heaven and hell will judge you from now on based on your actions, just like anyone else.”

Ryoichiro stood in silence, shock sinking in. He hadn’t expected this. Even as Yuko explained the implications, Ryoichiro couldn’t shake the sense that his life, as he knew it, had irrevocably changed. How could he go back to normal, knowing that Fate had already crossed his name off its list? What was he now, if not living? The questions swirled, unanswered, but one thing was certain — he would never be the same.

“Ever since the ritual, I haven’t felt right. Like something inside me shifted. But I thought it was just exhaustion... I didn’t think it meant...”

Yuko sighed, her voice softening again. “I didn’t tell you sooner because it would’ve complicated the ritual. But that’s the truth.”

Ryoichiro took a deep breath, steadying himself. “So... what now? Do I just go back to my normal life?”

Yuko’s lips curved into a faint smile, one that didn’t reach her eyes. “Far from it. The ritual freed you from the green reaper, yes. But it didn’t free you from its power.”

Ryoichiro’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “What? Wasn’t the whole point to get rid of that? Are you saying people could still die because of me?”

Yuko held his gaze. “Not if you can control it.”

She slid a small, worn talisman across the table. Ryoichiro took the talisman from Yuko’s hand. It felt heavier than it looked, the rough surface etched with intricate symbols that seemed to pulse beneath his fingers. A sudden chill ran up his arm, and he almost dropped it, startled by the sensation, but before he could ask what it meant, Yuko cut him off. “You’ll understand in time,” she said, her voice low and measured, as if she were revealing only a fraction of the truth. “For now, keep it close. You’ll need it.” Yuko’s lips curled into a barely perceptible smile as she watched Ryoichiro’s reaction. Her gaze lingered on the talisman, her fingers tapping the table in a rhythm that hinted at the unspoken weight of her words.

Ryoichiro frowned, his fingers tightening around the talisman. Why did he feel as if it was more of a leash than a gift? The way Yuko spoke about it, there was more at play here than she was letting on. What exactly had he gotten himself into?

Yuko’s expression hardened. “Now it’s time for you to keep your end of the bargain. You must swear fealty to the organization.”

Ryoichiro looked up sharply. “I don’t understand.”

“You’ve evaded death, faced the supernatural, and now possess abilities beyond most humans,” Yuko explained. “The organization could use someone like you. In fact, you’re one of their strongest assets now.”

“What? I never agreed to that,” Ryoichiro protested, his voice rising in disbelief.

“Did you honestly think I — the organization — was doing this out of charity?” Yuko shot back, her words sharp.

Ryoichiro, still confused, responded, “Well, you did say something about ‘balancing things,’ so I figured that’s all it was. I didn’t realize there were strings attached.”

Yuko’s eyes narrowed. “Well, now you know,” she said coldly.

“And if I say no?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Yuko’s eyes gleamed dangerously. “Then I could always... inform Fate. I can’t imagine what fate she has in stored for you,” she said as her fingers drummed lazily against the table, each tap a quiet reminder of the threat she held over him. She leaned back, her gaze steady, the ghost of a smile playing on her lips.

A tremor ran through his fingers as they rested on the table. He curled them into a fist, as though trying to suppress the unease that gnawed at him. “You wouldn’t dare...” His voice faltered as Yuko’s eyes bore into him, unyielding.

“As I said, I’m not here to hurt you,” Yuko’s voice remained calm, though her words carried a subtle weight. “I’m here to protect you, in the interest of the organization.”

Ryoichiro, still reeling from the conversation, stared blankly at the table, his emotions a tangled mess of confusion and anger.

Yuko leaned in slightly, her gaze unwavering. “I know you have questions, and they will be answered in time. For now, live your life as you normally would. But remember,” her voice hardened just a fraction, “I’ll be watching. When I call on you, I expect you to respond with more cooperation than you are showing now.”

Ryoichiro’s heart raced as he put the talisman into his pocket, fingers brushing against something familiar. He pulled out a handful of ash, the remains of what had once been a symbol of his old life, slipping through his fingers. Ryoichiro stared at the ashes, their remnants swirling as if alive, his chest tightening under the weight of his new reality.

Without a word, Yuko turned and walked toward the exit. As she passed through the threshold, the soft hum of the café faded, the colors of the room dulling as if reality itself dimmed in her absence.

“Welcome to the shadows, Ryoichiro...” Yuko’s voice echoed softly, lingering in the air like a distant whisper before she vanished in the blink of an eye, leaving only the weight of her words behind.