Inspired by: My way of life by Frank Sinatra

-Will this truly be the end?...-

You were everything to Kusuriuri. In his solitary world of shadows and spirits, you were the one constant, the fleeting light that made his endless journey bearable. Though he never spoke of affection, it was there—in the quiet moments, the lingering glances, the rare closeness he allowed himself to feel in your presence. In a life dominated by the unseen, you were real, undeniable.

But slowly, like a wound left untended, something in you began to change. Grief, perhaps, or sorrow long buried, began to fester. Kusuriuri noticed before it fully took hold, the subtle distance growing between you, the quiet fading of who you once were. He couldn’t identify the source, only the dark weight settling over you, a shadow creeping closer with every day. You were slipping away, consumed by something deeper than even his understanding.

And then, one day, you were gone.

His journey continued, chasing spirits and malevolent forces, but the absence of you lingered—a wound left to scar, silent yet deep. He showed no sign of it, kept his mask of calm detachment, but he couldn’t forget. You had been closer than anyone. Losing you left a hollow he couldn’t fill, a wound that bled into everything he did.

Until the day you reappeared.

When Kusuriuri saw you again, he knew. The malevolence hung thick in the air around you, unmistakable. You had become the very thing he hunted—an entity consumed by unresolved grief, sorrow, and hatred. And yet, somewhere beneath it all, he could still see traces of the person he once knew.

The sword of exorcism lay heavy at his side. His hands, usually so steady, hesitated. But duty was duty. Though it hurt more than any spirit he’d faced, he knew what had to be done. The mask of the exorcist settled back over his features. He would bring you peace—no matter the cost to himself.