The wind in Hokkaido carved through the desolate temple grounds with a razor's edge, its howl the only sound in the frozen silence. Haibara Yu and Nanami Kento stood shoulder to shoulder at the entrance, their breaths pluming in the glacial air. The cold clarified Haibara's resolve even as it made his voice tremble. "This is the place, right?"
Nanami gave a terse nod, his own gaze sharp and analytical behind his glasses. "A Grade Two. We'll be quick. Then we can focus on Senior Kamo's request for souvenirs."
"Souvenirs can wait," Haibara replied, his tone earnest. "The barrier comes first." He murmured the incantation, and an invisible dome settled over the temple, sealing their impending battle away from the mundane world.
They moved inside, dispatching the skittering, low-level curses that haunted the shadowed corridors with efficient, practiced ease. Their path led them to the cavernous main hall, dominated by a single, serene statue.
It was a familiar figure to any Japanese eye: the Earth Deity, Eboshi hat, Kariginu robes, holding a fishing rod and cradling a sea bream. But the air around it hummed with a malevolence that twisted the sacred image into something profane.
"Is that… the Earth Deity?" Haibara whispered, doubt thick in his voice.
"It appears so," Nanami confirmed, his expression turning grim. "But a deity-born curse should not be Grade Two."
Haibara's mind raced with the implications. The Earth Deity was a cornerstone of regional faith, a beloved guardian. But faith was a double-edged sword. In times of relentless disaster—failed harvests, endless floods—adoration could curdle into blame. The god is angry. The god has forsaken us. That corrupted belief was a potent poison, one that could birth a curse of immense power.
"A curse born from such widespread belief should be Grade One, at minimum," Nanami stated, giving voice to their shared dread. "Something is wrong here."
A sudden, deeper cold seemed to seep from the statue itself. Nanami's voice cut through the growing tension, calm and absolute. "If that is truly a manifestation of the Earth Deity, we cannot face it. We retreat. Now."
Before Haibara could fully process the order, the statue's stone eyelids slid open. Twin pools of crimson light ignited in the darkness, fixing on them with ancient, predatory hunger. The stone lips parted, curling into a smile of vile amusement.
"I think… it's too late for that," Haibara breathed, despair tightening his chest.
Nanami didn't argue. In one fluid motion, he seized Haibara's arm and spun, sprinting back toward the temple's entrance. Their boots pounded against the ancient wood floor.
They did not make it far.
With a contemptuous flick of its stone fishing rod, the Earth Deity curse summoned its guardians. The water of the corridor's ornamental pond erupted. Two monstrous fish curses shot forth, their bodies a mottled grey-green, their mouths ringed with row upon row of jagged, needle-like teeth. They moved with unnatural speed, cutting off the hallway, their dead eyes glinting as they blocked the only path to the outside world. The retreat was over. The hunt had begun.
The two monstrous fish surged from the pond like torpedoes of condensed malice, jaws wide enough to shear a man in half. Instinct took over. Haibara and Nanami threw themselves forward in synchronized rolls, the stale air of the corridor whooshing over their backs as teeth snapped shut on empty space. There was no time for a counterattack, not even a thought. Survival was the only imperative.
They scrambled to their feet and fled, bursting out of the temple gate and onto the covered walkway that ringed the courtyard. The leisurely path of their arrival was now a gauntlet. With unspoken agreement, they vaulted onto the walkway's roof, the wooden shingles slick underfoot. The height provided a fleeting advantage; the fish curses, agile in water, thrashed clumsily on the sloped tiles, their pursuit momentarily slowed.
Then the rain began. It was not a natural drizzle, but a heavy, oppressive deluge that fell with palpable weight, each drop a cold, stinging slap. It transformed the world into a grey, sucking quagmire, dragging at their limbs and blurring their vision. For Haibara and Nanami, every step became a laborious fight against the downpour. For the fish curses, sliding through the rapidly forming streams on the roof, it was a propellant. The distance between hunter and prey began to vanish with terrifying speed.
Hearts hammering against their ribs, they pushed through the liquid wall, a desperate, shared focus burning between them. They were no longer just sorcerers on a mission; they were two sparks of will fighting to outlast a drowning darkness.
Finally, they spilled from the roof's edge into the open plaza before the temple, their boots splashing in ankle-deep water. A twin shadow fell over them. The fish curses landed with heavy, wet thuds, blocking any further retreat, their jagged maws dripping.
Back to back, soaked and panting, they faced the encircling threat. Fear was a luxury they couldn't afford.
"This is it," Haibara gasped, wiping rain from his eyes, his gaze sharpening with battle-fever. "We have to take them down here."
Nanami adjusted his grip on his wrapped weapon, his analytical mind cutting through the panic. "The rain is part of its technique. A domain effect, weakening us, empowering them. But they are still Grade Two. Eliminating them is our only viable objective."
The fish curses didn't hesitate. They lunged again, bodies coiling and exploding forward through the rain. This time, Haibara and Nanami did not dodge.
They split, a mirror of lethal intent. Haibara met the charge of the left-hand beast with a surge of raw cursed energy, his fist blazing with a desperate, bright glow. Nanami, on the right, moved with geometric precision, his body angling to minimize the target he presented as his weapon—still sheathed—sought the perfect line for a crippling strike. The plaza, once a place of quiet contemplation, became a roaring, rain-lashed arena for a fight they could not afford to lose.