Her Price!
The train to Tsuyuhana Village screeched like something being dragged across its own bones. Riyo Yamagata pressed her forehead against the cold, damp glass, watching the mountains blur past in gray-green streaks, and exhaled a fog she hadn’t realized she’d been holding for eight long years. Eight years since she last walked these tracks, since she last breathed the cedar-scented air and smelled the damp earth of her grandmother’s village. Eight years since her childhood friend disappeared, leaving her world fractured, silent, and suspended in memory’s shadow.
Her recollections of that night arrived in shards—flashes of relentless rain, the glowing red staircase, the lantern burning unnaturally bright, and a boy screaming her name before everything dissolved into darkness. She had told herself she remembered it all, yet the details slipped through her mind like smoke in the wind, impossible to hold.
Only two people in the village remembered that night. Riyo was one. The other was Ovo.
The train groaned to a stop, the wheels grinding against the rails in a sound that resonated in her bones, a bone-deep echo of the past. A rush of mountain air stung her cheeks as she stepped onto the deserted platform. The wooden beams above creaked, sighing as if weighed down by history and long-buried secrets.
“Riyo. You actually came back.”
She spun, heart hammering in her chest.
Ovo Takeno stood there, taller, sharper-featured, his eyes darker than she remembered. His expression was unreadable, a mix of fatigue and something colder, something that felt like a ghost staring back at her. He hadn’t smiled. Not yet.
He had been the one who stayed with her the night Kaito vanished, the one who believed her when adults dismissed her as hysterical. The one who walked her home every day afterward, refusing to leave her side, muttering about the staircase and how “it might try something again.”
He had always mattered to her. She had never said it aloud. Never dared.
“You look like hell,” he said, voice low, almost accusing.
“You don’t look much better,” she replied, smirking despite the ache in her chest.
He snorted, a dry, humorless sound. “At least we’re both ugly. Makes it easier.”
Riyo laughed, a brittle, short sound barely cutting through the wind, until another figure stepped out of the shadows behind him.
Iron Kurohane.
A prodigy investigator from the Kyoto Metropolitan Police, Iron’s presence was sharp enough to slice the air, his posture rigid, and his gaze unreadable, observing everything at once.
Iron bowed slightly. “Thank you for responding to our request, Yamagata-san.”
Riyo frowned. “Request? What exactly do you want from me?”
Iron tapped his notebook, the sound loud and deliberate in the quiet station. “Eight years ago, Kaito Ishiro disappeared. The case went cold. But in the past two months, three more children vanished. All were last seen at the bottom of the Red Staircase—the same place you visited with Kaito before he disappeared.”
Ovo crossed his arms. “I told him you’re the only one who remembers the lantern. Everyone else says it never existed.”
“It was there,” Riyo whispered, voice trembling. “I know it was.”
Iron’s gaze hardened, sharp as a blade. “Good. Because tonight, we investigate it.”
---
Tsuyuhana Village seemed frozen in time, as if the years had left it untouched. Lanterns swayed gently from the eaves, casting dancing shadows on weathered wooden walls. Houses leaned inward, listening to every footstep, every whisper, every secret carried on the wind.
Only the three of them walked its quiet streets: Riyo, Ovo, and Iron.
Ovo moved slightly ahead, hands shoved deep in his pockets, glancing back repeatedly to make sure Riyo followed. He had done the same as a child, his patience and protective instinct unwavering.
The forest thickened as they approached the Red Staircase. Pressure tightened in Riyo’s ears, her stomach churned with a mix of fear and anticipation, and the scent of wet earth and decaying leaves filled her senses. The air felt alive, heavy with something unspoken, as if the trees themselves waited.
The staircase rose from the earth in jagged zigzags. Its red paint was cracked, worn, and slick with moss. Each step seemed to warn: tread carefully. Beyond, the forest devoured everything, dark and endless.
Iron swept his flashlight over the steps, the beam cutting a harsh path through the shadows. Ovo crouched, examining the ground with meticulous patience, searching for signs as he once searched for her lost hairclips—never giving up until he found what was hidden.
Nothing.
Then Riyo saw it.
A pale, ethereal glow hovered above the sixth step.
“There,” she whispered.
An upside-down lantern floated in the air, burning with an impossible white flame that pulsed like a heartbeat.
Iron stepped forward.
Ovo’s hand shot out, grabbing his wrist. “Are you insane? The last time someone touched that thing—”
Iron yanked free. “Which is why I need to inspect it.”
Riyo stepped beside Ovo, lowering his hand gently. “I’ll go with him.”
The lantern flickered, erratic and alive, as if it recognized her.
She reached out—
Iron’s grip snapped onto her wrist. “Do not touch it.”
He examined the lantern, eyes tracing every line and curve, before snapping his notebook shut.
“This lantern is built in the style of shrine lamps used to summon guardians—or bind spirits. But inverted, it does the opposite.”
Ovo frowned. “Opposite of protecting?”
“It summons hunger,” Iron said, voice low and steady.
A sudden wind clawed through the forest. The flame shifted from white to red, sparks bursting outward like blood against the night.
Human shapes formed within the sparks—children with blank, hollow faces, mouths open in silent screams, bodies flickering like old film.
They reached for Riyo.
Ovo pulled her behind him instinctively. “Don’t talk to them.”
“It’s not them,” Iron said sharply. “These are memory leeches. The lantern feeds on trauma.”
“But it sounded like Kaito,” Riyo whispered, hope tangled with fear.
“No,” Iron said firmly. “It is what killed him.”
The shapes dissolved. The lantern dropped softly to the step. Iron lifted it with care and sealed it in a metal case.
“We take it to the shrine at the top. Something there controls it,” he said.
They began to climb.
---
Halfway up, Riyo’s head throbbed. Her knees buckled, and she stumbled.
Ovo caught her immediately, both hands steadying her. “Hey—easy. I’ve got you.”
His warmth grounded her, letting her breathe for the first time in years.
“Thank you…” she whispered.
He looked away, muttering, “Always.”
She forced out a shaky breath. “I remember rain… Kaito running… someone calling him… someone tall.”
Iron exchanged a look with Ovo. “Someone you trusted?”
Riyo nodded weakly. “Yes…”
Iron added quietly, “That figure… it wasn’t real. Just a shape conjured by the lantern.”
Strange markings appeared on the trees as they climbed—circles slashed with vertical lines. Hundreds of them, carved with meticulous intent.
Iron frowned. “These were seals to contain something. Someone broke them. Deliberately.”
“So someone wants this lantern active,” Ovo muttered.
“But why?” Riyo asked.
Ovo hesitated. “…I was hoping you’d remember.”
Iron’s tone darkened. “We believe your memory was altered.”
Riyo froze. “Why would someone erase my memory?”
“To protect you,” Iron said softly. “Or to hide what you saw.”
Her heart thudded painfully, each beat echoing like a drum in her chest.
---
At the top, a shrine crouched beneath a massive camphor tree, its roots twisting over the ground like protective arms. Offerings lay scattered, wood polished by years of rain and devotion.
A figure stood motionless before it.
“Kaito…” Riyo breathed.
He turned. His eyes clouded white, movements erratic, like a corrupted reflection of the boy she once knew.
Ovo swore under his breath. “That can’t be him.”
Iron’s voice was ice. “It’s not Kaito. A construct built from what remains of him.”
The figure smiled too widely. “Riyo. You came back.”
“You’re not him,” she whispered.
“But you asked me to stay!” it shrieked. “You begged the lantern to keep me forever!”
Iron snapped at her. “You touched the lantern?”
“I—I don’t remember—”
White flame spiraled from Kaito’s hand.
“Move!” Iron shouted.
Ovo yanked Riyo behind a stone pillar, shielding her with his body. He trembled but refused to let go.
Iron rolled forward, grabbing the case, and hurled it.
“Riyo! It listens to you! Take the lantern!”
She caught it. Agony seared her palms. She screamed—
White light consumed everything.
---
She was back in her memory.
Rain. The staircase. Little Kaito crying.
“Do you really have to move away?” he asked.
“I don’t want to leave,” young Riyo sobbed.
She ran up the staircase, found the glowing lantern, grabbed it—
“I want him to stay forever!” she cried. “I want him to stay even if something takes me instead!”
The lantern twisted her wish. Bound Kaito. Erased her memory to keep the spell intact. The lantern never takes lives—it takes identities, someone’s existence offered in exchange for another.
Present-day Riyo cried out. “No. Let him go. I take it back.”
The memory shattered.
She returned to the shrine.
Kaito’s figure crumbled. “Riyo… please…”
Iron shouted, “Smash it!”
Ovo yelled, voice cracking, “Riyo! I’m right here!”
Inside the flame, she saw futures—cruel, broken, impossible.
One where Kaito lived and she suffered.
One where Ovo died protecting her.
One where she vanished entirely.
One where she offered herself—her very identity.
Riyo lowered the lantern.
Iron stepped toward her. “Riyo. Don’t.”
“If it trades,” she whispered, “then I offer myself.”
White light swallowed the world.
---
Morning.
Ovo woke on the grass. Iron bandaged his arm nearby.
“What… happened?” Ovo croaked, voice tight with fear.
Iron hesitated. “She made a trade. Her identity was taken. She… no longer exists as Riyo Yamagata.”
Ovo sat up violently. “Where is she?”
Iron swallowed. “Rewritten.”
A soft voice called behind them.
“Excuse me? Are you lost?”
Ovo turned—and froze.
A girl stood at the top of the staircase, school bag in hand, sunlight behind her.
Riyo.
Her face, posture, presence—unmistakably hers. But her eyes held no recognition.
Ovo rose slowly. “Riyo…?”
She blinked politely. “I’m sorry… do I know you?”
His throat tightened painfully. “What… what’s your name?”
“Miyako,” she said gently. “My brother Kaito is waiting at home. Are you visiting?”
Ovo staggered.
Iron whispered, “Riyo is gone. Her existence replaced to bring Kaito back.”
Miyako tilted her head. “Are you sure you’re alright?”
Ovo forced a broken smile. “You just… looked familiar.”
“People say that a lot,” she said kindly before walking down the staircase.
Ovo watched her disappear into the morning light.
Iron placed a hand on his shoulder. “It’s over.”
Ovo shook his head. “No. Not for me.”
He stared at the empty steps.
“I’m not losing her twice.”
