Season 1 – Episode 1: "The Last Breath of Yuki Nara"
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Ayakashi City always wore a veil. Not the gentle kind that draped softly over the shoulders, but one woven from mist, neon, and secrets buried too deep to ever claw their way back to the surface. Even on days like this—days drowned in rain and routine—the city never stopped whispering to those who could hear it.
Ren Kazuki could.
He just didn't want to.
Seventeen years old, wiry and sharp-featured, Ren wasn't a troublemaker or a loner by choice. He was simply… tuned differently. His senses picked up what others missed—the smallest shifts in shadow, the tick in a person's smile, the storm building behind an innocent glance. He walked through life like someone halfway awake in a dream they couldn't escape from. And today felt like one of those dreams.
Rain tapped against the third-story window of Class 2-B like nervous fingers. The room was filled with the low murmur of students waiting for homeroom to begin, and the stale scent of damp uniforms and cheap cologne. Ren sat in the back row, a hood over his head, earbuds in his ears but no music playing. He wasn't listening to anything but the rain. Watching. Waiting.
"Yuki Nara," he muttered under his breath, not realizing he'd spoken aloud.
She was there, as always. Second row, third seat from the window. Her ink-black hair was tied in a loose braid today, hanging low over her shoulder. She always braided it when she was anxious. She scribbled quietly in her weathered notebook, unaware—or unconcerned—that her eyes were shining with held-back tears.
Yuki Nara. The soft-spoken ghost of Kitamura High. No one noticed her. Not really. She never spoke unless spoken to, and even then, her answers were half-whispers. She was brilliant in literature, poor in math, and always left class five minutes early with a mysterious permission slip no one else had ever seen. Rumors swirled around her like autumn leaves, none ever settling.
Ren had never talked to her. Never had a reason to.
Until now.
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It hit like a freight train slamming into the side of his skull.
The classroom vanished.
In an instant, Ren was no longer in his seat. The desks were gone. The rain was gone. Time itself had been shoved aside like a curtain.
Instead, he stood in a narrow, winding alley smeared with graffiti and grime, somewhere deep in the backstreets of Ayakashi. Dim lanterns flickered overhead, throwing long, crooked shadows across the crumbling brick.
Yuki stood ten feet ahead of him, clutching her side.
Blood leaked through her blouse, staining the pavement. Her lips trembled. Her knees buckled.
And in front of her was a man—or something shaped like one.
He wore a black coat that moved as if alive, stitched from smoke and hunger. His face… there wasn't one. Just smooth skin, stretched taut where eyes and mouth should be. His presence felt like gravity.
"Stay away from her!" Ren shouted—except no sound came out.
He moved. He thought he did. But he couldn't reach her.
Yuki's body fell against the wall. Her eyes, wide and glassy, locked onto Ren's.
Then everything shattered.
---
Ren jerked awake, sucking in air like he'd been drowning.
He was back in the classroom. The light buzzed overhead. The teacher was late. Students still murmured about weekend plans. It was like nothing had happened.
Except Yuki.
Still sitting there.
Still trembling.
Still alive.
Ren's fingers tightened around his desk. He checked the time: 4:29 PM. The exact time he'd seen her die in the vision.
He had four minutes.
He stood up. Quietly. No one noticed. He slipped from the classroom without permission, heart pounding like a war drum in his chest.
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The rain fell harder now. Sheets of it. A symphony of thunder echoing between buildings. Ren's hood clung to his hair. Water soaked through his shoes. But he ran.
Yuki's umbrella bobbed ahead of him. Her steps were quick. Determined. She moved like someone walking toward something she had accepted—and feared.
She turned left. Then right. Then cut through a rusted gate half-covered in ivy. The streets narrowed. The light dimmed.
He knew where she was going.
The alley from the vision.
4:32 PM.
She stood at the alley's mouth.
Ren yelled. "Yuki!"
She turned—surprised. Her eyes widened in recognition. "Kazuki?"
He blinked. She'd never said his name before.
Something moved behind her.
Ren saw it rise.
The figure.
Faceless.
Cloaked in smoke.
Ren lunged, grabbing a broken broom handle from a nearby bin and charging without thinking. His legs screamed in protest. His vision blurred. But he swung.
The figure turned.
For a moment, the air around it cracked like glass. An invisible pulse rippled outward, sending trash bins flying and windows rattling.
Then it vanished.
Gone. Like fog in the morning sun.
Yuki crumpled.
Ren caught her. Barely. His knees slammed against the wet concrete as he held her shaking body in his arms.
"Yuki, hey—hey, stay with me."
Her breath came in shallow gasps. Blood ran in delicate trails from the corner of her lips.
"You… always find me…" she whispered.
He didn't know what that meant. "I don't understand. What was that thing? What's going on?"
Her hand reached up. Cold fingers brushed his cheek. "You don't remember yet. But you will."
Ren's voice cracked. "Remember what?!"
"Kaori," she said softly. "She's waiting…"
Ren froze.
The name echoed inside him like a bell struck underwater. A flood of images surged through him—a battlefield. Seventeen warriors. A sword made of fire. A girl cloaked in red.
Kaori.
Yuki's eyes began to fade.
But she smiled.
"I'm glad… it's you… this time…"
And she died.
The rain swallowed his scream.
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The world twisted.
Symbols etched themselves in flame along the alley walls—ancient, spiraling, alive. One burned brighter than the others: a circle of seventeen eyes surrounding a keyhole. Below it, glowing words in a script he had never learned but somehow understood.
"Detective of the Past. One of the Eighteen."
Then it hit him.
Another vision.
Another life.
Another self.
The battlefield again—roaring winds, shattered towers, skies torn open by celestial light. He stood in the center, older, stronger. Warriors flanked him. He knew their names. He knew their stories.
And there she was.
Kaori.
Her eyes met his.
"Find me, Ren."
The vision collapsed.
---
Ren woke up in his room.
Soaked.
Alone.
No signs of blood. No wound on his hands. No trace of Yuki Nara's body.
Except…
On his desk sat her notebook.
The one she always carried.
The first page was blank.
Then, slowly, words began to etch themselves across the paper—letter by letter, as if being written by an unseen hand.
> "One of eighteen has awoken. The first threat has been revealed. The past breathes again."
And beneath it, in her delicate handwriting:
> "Kaori is real."