The spirit wouldn't stop screaming.
Akira Kageyama gritted his teeth, focusing on the delicate work of applying makeup to the pale face before him. The wailing was giving him a headache, but he knew better than to acknowledge it. Acknowledging them only made them stronger.
"Yoshida-san," he murmured, his voice barely audible over the spirit's cries, "I know you're scared. But this isn't your fight anymore. It's time to rest."
The screaming faltered, then faded to a whimper. Akira allowed himself a small smile as he put the finishing touches on Yoshida-san's makeup. Another spirit soothed, another body prepared for its final journey. Just another day in the life of an undertaker's son.
The preparation room was a study in contrasts. Harsh fluorescent lights illuminated stainless steel surfaces, while incense smoke curled lazily through the air, its sweet scent barely masking the clinical smell of disinfectant. Akira moved through this familiar space with practiced ease, his fingers cool against the waxy skin of the deceased.
As he worked, Akira's mind wandered to the future he longed for. A future where he wasn't just the undertaker's son, where he could do more than just ease the passage of the dead. But for now, this was his reality – a world balanced precariously between life and death.
Akira's alarm blared at 4:30 AM, piercing the pre-dawn silence of his tiny bedroom. He groaned, fumbling in the dark to silence the incessant beeping. As consciousness crept in, so did the familiar weight of responsibility. Another day, another funeral to prepare.
At seventeen, Akira should have been worried about entrance exams or asking out his crush. Instead, he was an expert at preparing bodies for their final journey. He sat up, running a hand through his messy black hair, and glanced at the family photo on his nightstand. His mother's smiling face stared back at him, forever frozen in time.
"Morning, Mom," he whispered, allowing himself a moment of melancholy before steeling himself for the day ahead.
The floorboards creaked as Akira made his way to the bathroom, careful not to wake his father. The mirror reflected a face too serious for its years—deep brown eyes that had seen too much sorrow, and the hint of dark circles that no amount of sleep seemed to erase. A small scar on his left eyebrow, a souvenir from a childhood accident, added character to his otherwise unremarkable features.
As he splashed cold water on his face, Akira ran through the day's schedule in his mind. Finish preparing Yoshida-san for her viewing, complete his literature essay during lunch break, help with the evening wake... He sighed. Just another Tuesday.
The kitchen was dark and quiet as Akira prepared a simple breakfast of rice and miso soup. He ate quickly, leaving a portion covered for his father. As he washed his dishes, his gaze drifted to the small shrine in the corner of the room. The incense from last night's prayers had long since burned out, but the comforting scent still lingered.
Akira bowed slightly to the shrine before heading back to the preparation room. The clinical smell of disinfectant mixed with incense greeted him as he flicked on the lights. Yoshida-san lay peacefully on the preparation table, her wrinkled face relaxed in eternal sleep.
"Ohayou gozaimasu, Yoshida-san," he said softly, bowing to the deceased woman. "Let's finish getting you ready to meet your family, shall we?"
With practiced movements, Akira began the final touches of preparing the body. His hands moved with gentle efficiency, showing a respect and care that belied his years. As he worked, he spoke softly to Yoshida-san, telling her about the weather, about the flowers her family had chosen, about the grandson who had flown in from America to say goodbye.
"Your family loves you very much," Akira murmured as he carefully adjusted Yoshida-san's kimono. "They're going to miss you, but I hope seeing you at peace will bring them comfort."
As the sun began to rise, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold, Akira finished his work. Yoshida-san looked serene, dressed in her best kimono, ready to greet her loved ones one last time. Akira stepped back, bowing deeply to the woman who had entrusted her final care to him and his father.
"Rest well, Yoshida-san," he said. "Your journey is complete."
The buzz of his phone broke the solemn moment. A text from his best friend, Kenji:
```
[Kenji]: Yo, Akira! You coming to school today?
Himeno-sensei's gonna kill you if you miss another lit class!
```
Akira glanced at the clock. If he hurried, he could make it to school before the first bell. He quickly typed a reply:
```
[Akira]: On my way. Save me a seat?
```
```
[Kenji]: Always, bro. See you soon!
```
Rushing to change into his school uniform, Akira called out to his father, who was just emerging from his room, looking haggard and sleep-deprived.
"Dad, I'm heading to school. Yoshida-san is ready for the viewing. Do you need me to come back at lunch to help set up?"
Akira's father, Hiroshi, shook his head, his kind eyes crinkling with a tired smile. "No, son. I can manage. You focus on your studies today. You've done enough already."
Akira hesitated, seeing the fatigue in his father's stance. "Are you sure? I don't mind—"
"Go," Hiroshi insisted gently. "You're young. Live a little. I'll see you this evening for the wake."
With a grateful nod, Akira grabbed his schoolbag and hurried out the door. The streets of their modest Tokyo neighborhood were already bustling with morning commuters. As he jogged towards the train station, Akira allowed himself to daydream, just for a moment, about a life where his biggest worry was getting to class on time.
The train was packed, as usual, but Akira managed to squeeze in, clutching his bag to his chest. As the cityscape whizzed by, he pulled out his battered copy of "The Tale of Genji" and tried to focus on the passages he needed for his essay. But the words swam before his eyes, replaced by images of Yoshida-san's peaceful face and the grief her family would soon experience.
Akira shook his head, forcing himself back to the present. He couldn't let himself be distracted. Education was his ticket to a better life, a chance to help his father expand their business into something more...uplifting. He owed it to his parents—both of them—to succeed.
The train lurched to a stop at his station, and Akira flowed with the crowd onto the platform. As he emerged onto the street, the familiar sight of his high school looming ahead, a strange sensation washed over him. The air felt... different. Charged, somehow.
Akira paused, frowning. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and an inexplicable urge to turn around gripped him. Slowly, he looked back the way he had come.
In the distance, beyond the skyscrapers and train lines, a pillar of shimmering blue light pierced the morning sky.
"What the—" Akira's whisper was cut short as the ground beneath his feet began to tremble.
The earthquake hit without warning.
Akira stumbled, nearly dropping his schoolbag. Around him, people cried out in alarm as the shaking intensified. The sound of shattering glass and creaking metal filled the air as buildings swayed dangerously.
But it was the sudden silence that truly chilled him to the bone.
The spirits - the ever-present whispers and cries that he'd learned to tune out - had gone quiet. In seventeen years, Akira had never known them to fall silent. Not once.
As the shaking subsided, Akira steadied himself, his heart pounding. Something was very, very wrong.
"Everyone, stay calm!" A teacher's voice cut through the chaos. "Move away from the buildings! Cover your heads!"
Akira helped a younger student to her feet, guiding her towards the relative safety of the school's open courtyard. His mind raced. An earthquake this strong was bad news, especially in the heart of Tokyo. He thought of his father, alone in their fragile old house, and felt a stab of fear.
As suddenly as it had begun, the shaking stopped. An eerie silence fell over the city, broken only by the wail of distant sirens. Akira's phone buzzed incessantly—probably Kenji checking if he was okay—but he couldn't tear his eyes away from that column of blue light.
It was closer now, or perhaps just easier to see without the buildings obscuring it. The light seemed to be coming from Ueno Park, just a few blocks away. Without fully understanding why, Akira felt an irresistible pull towards it.
"Akira-kun!" It was Himeno-sensei, his literature teacher. "Are you alright? We need to get everyone inside for a headcount."
Akira nodded absently, still staring at the light. "I'm fine, sensei. But I... I need to check on my father. Our house is old, and he's alone."
It wasn't entirely a lie. He was worried about his dad. But the compulsion to investigate that light was overwhelming.
Himeno-sensei looked torn, but nodded. "Be careful, Akira-kun. Come back as soon as you can."
"Hai, sensei. I will."
As Akira ran towards Ueno Park, his phone buzzed again. This time, it wasn't a message but a strange notification:
```
[System Initialization]
Welcome, Akira Kageyama.
Scanning physical and mental attributes...
Initializing status window...
```
Akira nearly tripped over his own feet. He blinked hard, sure he must be seeing things. But the translucent blue screen hovering in his vision remained. Heart pounding, he read on:
```
[Status Window]
Name: Akira Kageyama
Race: Human
Level: 1
Aspect: None
Skills: None
Strength: 8
Agility: 10
Vitality: 9
Intelligence: 14
Wisdom: 12
HP: 90/90
MP: 0/0 (Locked)
```
"What the hell?" Akira muttered, reaching out to touch the screen. His hand passed right through it. "I must be dreaming. Or maybe I hit my head during the earthquake?"
But even as he tried to rationalize it, Akira knew this was real. Somehow, impossibly, he had gained a status window like something out of the manga Kenji was always trying to get him to read.
The sound of panicked shouting snapped Akira back to reality. He had reached Ueno Park, and the scene before him was chaos. People were running away from the center of the park, where the pillar of light was emanating from a massive, ornate door that seemed to have sprouted from the ground.
The door was like nothing Akira had ever seen. It stood at least twenty feet tall, its surface a swirling mix of black lacquer and mother-of-pearl inlays. Intricate carvings covered every inch, depicting scenes of creation and destruction, life and death. At its center, a massive magatama jewel pulsed with blue light.
As Akira approached, transfixed, the cacophony of the panicking crowd faded away. All he could hear was a low, resonant hum emanating from the door. It called to him, promising answers to questions he didn't even know he had.
Without fully realizing what he was doing, Akira reached out and placed his hand on the cool surface of the door. The magatama flared brightly, and Akira felt a jolt of energy course through his body.
```
[System Notification]
Congratulations! You have discovered the Trial Gate of Izanagi.
Do you wish to enter and face the trial?
Warning: This trial is dangerous and may result in death.
[Yes] / [No]
```
Akira's mind reeled. Izanagi? The creator god of Japanese mythology? This couldn't be real. And yet... everything about this felt more real than anything he had experienced before.
He thought of his life—the endless cycle of school and funerals, the weight of expectations and responsibility. He thought of his father, working himself to exhaustion to keep their small business afloat. He thought of his mother, taken too soon, and all the questions about life and death that had plagued him since her passing.
Maybe, just maybe, this was his chance for answers. For change.
Taking a deep breath, Akira pressed the [Yes] button.
The door swung open silently, revealing a swirling vortex of darkness and light. As Akira stepped through, he heard a voice, ancient and powerful, echo in his mind:
"Prepare yourself, Akira Kageyama, for the Trial of Izanagi."