Ooshiba and Mark walked through the dim, crumbling halls of an old apartment building in lower Kyoto. The walls were streaked with grime, and sections of the plaster hung loosely, exposing the wooden framework beneath. A faint smell of mildew hung in the air, mingling with the occasional sharp scent of decay from abandoned corners. Broken glass crunched beneath their boots as they moved cautiously, each step echoing faintly in the silence.

Ooshiba led the way, his outfit reflecting the wear of someone accustomed to rough work. His tattered jeans were frayed at the hems, and his dirt-streaked flannel shirt bore evidence of repeated use. His brown steel-toed boots, scuffed and worn, thudded heavily against the floorboards. A lit incense stick, clenched between his teeth, burned steadily, releasing a steady plume of fragrant smoke.

Behind him, Mark followed, leaning slightly on his wooden cane. Taller by a foot, his clean and well-maintained appearance contrasted sharply with Ooshiba’s ruggedness. Mark wore green slacks with a black shirt tucked neatly into them, held in place by a polished leather belt. The shirt was crisp, unwrinkled, and spotless. His white sneakers, however, were marred with scuffs and streaks of dirt, evidence of the environment they traversed. On his left hand, a thick gold wedding band caught the sparse light filtering through broken windows, and a matching crucifix hung around his neck. Despite the grime around them, Mark’s cologne lingered in the air, a citrus-heavy scent that battled against the smoky incense from Ooshiba.

Mark spoke, continuing their earlier conversation. “I can’t, in good conscience, allow that kid to join your exorcisms,” he said in English, his tone firm.

“And why is that?” Ooshiba asked. He didn’t look back, his eyes scanning the corridor ahead as the incense smoke curled into the air, forming a leading trail.

“He’s inexperienced,” Mark replied. He tapped his cane against the floor for emphasis. “He’s barely grasped the fundamentals.”

“He’ll learn. That’s what the university is for,” Ooshiba countered.

Mark shook his head. “He will, but this isn’t a lecture hall. You’re throwing him into battles with antizoi. That’s too much, too soon.”

Ooshiba exhaled. “So you think it’s beneath him? That a man with potential shouldn’t deal with anti-life?”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Then what did you mean?” Ooshiba stopped, finally turning to face Mark. His eyes narrowed.

Mark hesitated, then spoke. “That kid has potential. Massive potential. His pneuma is unrefined, but it’s extraordinary. If he learns how to use it properly, he could accomplish things most exorcists only dream of. But right now? He doesn’t even have an innate technique. You put him up against a crippled low-tier, and he won’t survive.”

“And you think I can’t train him?” Ooshiba asked, his tone calm but edged.

“I think this is the wrong way to do it. He’s not ready to face what you’re planning to throw at him,” Mark replied.

Ooshiba didn’t respond immediately. He turned back and resumed walking. “What he saw that day changed him,” he said after a moment. “You weren’t there, Mark. You didn’t see it.”

“I know what he saw. It was horrific, but that doesn’t mean he needs to—”

“Enough,” Ooshiba said, shifting his point. “The kid thinks he has something to atone for. Maybe he doesn’t. But it’s not about what’s true. It’s about what he believes. If he’s going to find peace, he needs to face this.”

“But are you good enough to make him the man he needs to be? You’re skilled at what you do, and you’re great at teaching it. But you know I’m the better fit for him. Let me take him as my student. I’ll train him, turn him into a proper Jack, and if, halfway through, we feel he can handle himself against even a low-tier djinn—because you know that day will come…”

The conversation abruptly ended as the floor beneath them gave way. The wooden boards and supporting beams splintered with a sharp crack, and they plummeted into the darkness below. The air was filled with debris and dust, though neither man suffered injury. Mark’s body radiated a faint red glow as he landed, and the dirt that had clung to his clothing was swept away, leaving him as clean and composed as before.

The world around them shifted. The remains of the apartment building were gone, replaced by an entirely new environment. Above them loomed a dark sky, illuminated by a blazing solar eclipse that cast an eerie glow. The horizon stretched into an endless void, and the ground beneath their feet was smooth and black, coated with a thin, reflective layer of water. The surface shimmered with an unnatural stillness.

“An intelligent antizoi,” Mark said, breaking the silence. He reached into his wallet, pulled out a few folded bills, and slipped them into Ooshiba’s pocket. “What is it? A djinn or something else?”

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“Can’t tell yet,” Ooshiba replied, scanning the horizon for movement.

Mark nodded. He shifted his weight and tapped his cane against the ground. A red glow coursed from the cane and into the scattered debris near his feet. The rubble responded, slowly rising and reshaping into a simple, sturdy chair. Mark sat down, resting his hands on the head of his cane.

A sudden, familiar sensation rippled through both of them—a sharp, foreboding presence.

“Djinn,” Mark said evenly.

“Yes,” Ooshiba confirmed, his voice calm but firm. “But there’s something else. It’s moving toward us.”

Mark straightened slightly in his chair. “A special grade?”

“That’s not a classification,” Ooshiba replied. “The realm itself is strong, but it’s not affecting us. Just spatial displacement. It could be a lesser djinn. Maybe something even weaker.”

Mark leaned forward, gripping his cane tightly. “Then why does it feel like we’re standing in its domain?”

Ooshiba did not answer, his eyes fixed on the encroaching darkness at the edge of their vision. “Makes sense why the pattern was so hard to notice. But even the smartest slip up when hungry… Mark, do you mind helping me with this one?”

A figure began to form in front of Ooshiba, slowly rising from the ground as if pulled from the surface itself.

Mark, still seated in his makeshift chair, smirked. “Such a dramatic entrance…”

“You didn’t answer me,” Ooshiba said without looking at him.

“Do you really think I’d just let you get tossed around while I sat on my ass?” Mark replied.

Ooshiba gave him a blank look, unamused.

“Okay, fuck you,” Mark groaned, pushing himself up from the chair with the support of his cane. He stretched his back with a low grunt, rolling his shoulders.

By the time the brief exchange ended, the figure in front of them had fully materialized. It was small, no taller than a child, its frame swaddled in a thick, ragged coat with the hood pulled low over its head. Long black hair spilled out from beneath the hood, obscuring most of its features. Its face, however, was hidden behind a white mask painted with a mournful, black-and-white expression.

“Spooky,” Mark muttered, stepping to Ooshiba’s side with a slight limp as Ooshiba began lighting a stick of sage.

“It’s an ircenrraat,” Ooshiba said, relaxing his stance slightly. “Odd to see one in Japan. Interesting.”

Mark tilted his head. “Kill or not kill?”

“Usually not kill,” Ooshiba replied. “They’re mischievous dimension hoppers. Not particularly violent unless provoked. They usually travel in groups.”

The small creature began to skip toward them, emitting faint, high-pitched giggles. Its movements were playful but unsettlingly fluid, as if its body did not entirely obey the laws of physics.

“Tend to be with a group, huh?” Mark said, watching the creature carefully. He attempted to repeat the name with exaggerated precision. “Ircenrraat. Do they always group with others?”

“Yes,” Ooshiba answered, eyes locked on the approaching figure. “But they also tend to stay in the Arctic. This one being here – alone – is… unusual.”

“I see.” Mark turned his head slightly, feeling uneasy. Standing there, slightly hunched over, was a towering skeleton, its grotesque form illuminated faintly by the eclipsed sky above. Its massive frame was cobbled together from a chaotic patchwork of bones. Skulls formed portions of its arms and legs, while femurs and ribs wove into a grotesque mosaic across its body. Its face was disturbingly defined, as if the contours of human flesh had somehow influenced the structure of its skeletal features. Protruding from its sockets were oversized, bloodshot eyes, glaring at Mark with a predatory intensity.

Mark froze, staring at the creature. They regarded each other for a long, silent moment before the skeleton shifted its face, forming a terrible, unnatural smile. It clacked its teeth together in a rhythmic, unsettling pattern, the sound echoing: gachi gachi. Then, with alarming speed, it lunged forward, a massive hand swiping at Mark.

Mark sidestepped the attack effortlessly, his movements unhurried. “That’s new.”.

Ooshiba turned sharply, his eyes widening. “A Gashadokuro?” he said with a surprised tone.

Before he could react further, Ooshiba felt a sharp tug on his shirt from behind. He whipped around, raising the sage stick defensively. “Uzai!” he barked, the irritation in his tone cutting through the tension.

In an instant, Ooshiba vanished from the plane, his body pulled through a rift in space. He reappeared in a new, grotesque scene. The air was thick with the smell of blood and decay, and he was immediately surrounded by a pack of bloodied, snarling pishachas. Their gaunt forms, smeared with crimson, writhed with unnatural movements as they circled him like vultures sensing fresh prey. Their glowing, lidless eyes fixated on him, unblinking.

Ooshiba tightened his grip on the sage stick and shifted his stance, his focus sharpening. He muttered under his breath, assessing the situation. There were at least five of them, each emitting a faint but hostile aura of pneuma. Something’s going on. Three different antizoi all together? And no djinn in sight…

He spun the sage stick in his hand, releasing a plume of smoke that circled him like a shield. One of the pishachas lunged, its jagged teeth snapping inches from his face. He sidestepped and delivered a swift strike to its temple with the burning end of the sage. The creature recoiled with an inhuman screech, its skin sizzling where the sage made contact.

“Don’t underestimate me for my size beast…” he said, as smoke from the incense began to engulf the area forming chains which began to constrain the beasts.

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Mark, meanwhile, remained in the liminal space with the Gashadokuro looming over him. “Looks like it's just you and me, big guy. Lucky for you, I have almost no experience fighting you guys…” He tapped his cane against the glassy surface of the ground, channeling a faint red glow into the area beneath him and with it tired flames began to engulf the battlefield.