I pushed the door open, its tired creak echoing through the dimly lit bar. Above the door, the sign swayed gently in the draft: Jimmy's Bar. The air inside was thick with smoke, mingling with the scent of stale ale and the low hum of conversation. A few patrons were scattered across tables, their murmurs blending with the clinking of mugs and the shuffle of cards and coins. But it wasn't a place for joy. It was a place for survival. And right now, that's all I cared about—survival.
The bartender, a burly man with a scruffy beard, barely looked up as I entered. I wasn't dressed to impress, and I knew it. My shirt, what was left of it, hung loose around my torso, and my bare feet slapped the floor with every step. I was a kid who looked like he'd been dragged through hell. The eyes of the regulars were sharp—like foxes sizing up a rabbit. But that didn't matter. I wasn't here for a drink. Maybe... but ultimately, I was here for answers.
I took a seat at an empty table, blending into the shadows as best as I could. In Bridgeville, the last thing you wanted was attention. This wasn't a place for heroes or noble deeds. It was a haven for outcasts, where the weak scraped by and the strong preyed on them.
I scanned the room, my eyes settling on the only man who might know something about the Yokai. That damn spirit was haunting me, and if I didn't learn everything I could, it would mean the end of my mother—and the end of me.
In the far corner, a figure caught my attention. He sat alone, his back against the wall, a scarred hand holding a mug of something dark and thick. He was older, his face lined with years of hardship, eyes clouded with the weight of battles fought long ago. His clothes were tattered but worn with purpose, like someone who'd lived a hundred lives in one. A veteran.
I stood, my heart hammering. This was it. I needed information, and if this man had faced Yokai before, he was the one I needed to talk to.
I approached, taking a deep breath before sitting down across from him. He didn't acknowledge me right away. His gaze remained fixed on his mug, as though the world outside didn't exist.
"What do you want, kid?" His voice was rough, like gravel being ground underfoot. I flinched but didn't back down.
"I need to know about the Yokai," I said, forcing the words out steady, despite the unease crawling up my spine. "The Yokai of Bridgeville."
The man's eyes flickered up to meet mine. A hint of something dark, something wary, flashed in his gaze. He took a long sip from his mug before responding.
"The Yokai of Bridgeville…" he muttered, shaking his head. "You're in for more trouble than you know, kid."
"I'm not afraid of trouble," I shot back, my voice sharper than I intended. "I'm trying to save someone."
He fell silent, studying me for a moment before letting out a dry chuckle, as though the idea of a kid like me taking on a Yokai was the funniest thing he'd heard in a while.
"You're fooling yourself," he said, his voice low. "A Yokai isn't something you just fight off. It's a curse. A shadow that's been haunting this town for generations. The thing you're looking for? It isn't just a ghost. It's worse."
He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper, though no one seemed to notice.
"Some say it's tied to the land itself. Bridgeville… this place is cursed. It's always been that way. The Yokai? It feeds on the despair. The broken dreams, the suffering, the desperate souls." He paused, glancing around the bar before continuing. "You'll never win with just steel and blood. You need more than that."
I was silent for a moment, trying to process what he was saying. The Yokai wasn't just a monster—it was a manifestation of everything wrong with Bridgeville. That was more than I'd bargained for.
"Is there anyone who's faced it and lived?" I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper.
The veteran stared into his mug, his fingers tracing the rim like he was searching for the right answer. Then, he looked up at me, his face grim.
"There are those who've tried," he said slowly. "But none of 'em came back the same. The Yokai doesn't just kill. It changes you. It's in the air. It's in the ground. It's part of this cursed town. And there's no escaping it unless you burn it out… or you leave."
"Do you have any other information? Like its rank? Its abilities?" I pressed, urgency creeping into my voice.
He simply shook his head.
"So… where is it then?" I asked, my voice firm.
He hesitated for a moment, before finally relenting.
"Out the tavern, take a right. You'll see an alley between two brown wood buildings. Take it, and you'll find a path leading to the execution site and the graveyard. I heard that's where it slumbers." He finished, casting a glance toward his drink before downing it in one go.
I stood up, slapping a few coins on the counter, but not before grabbing a couple back.
"I put down too much, heh heh," I muttered to the bartender, but he didn't acknowledge me, his gaze fixed on a bottle of Gourden's Yale.
I had enough information for now, but my mind was already racing ahead. The Yokai wasn't just a threat to Bridgeville—it was tied to everything here. And if I was going to fight it, I would need more than just a weapon. I'd need to prepare.
The veteran's voice stopped me as I turned to leave.
"You better be ready, kid," he called after me. "The Yokai don't play fair."
I glanced back, but he was already lost in his mug again. His words hung heavy in the air.
As I walked out into the night, the cold wind biting at my skin, I couldn't help but think of what he'd said. The Yokai don't play fair.
That meant preparing for a battle I wasn't ready for.
The streets of Bridgeville stretched ahead, the night growing darker with each step. The sounds of the bar faded into the distance, and I was left alone with the weight of the world on my shoulders.
Time was running out.
...
Woosh
The rustles of leaves.
"PLEASE! DIE! DON'T KILL ME!"
A deathly scream.
The air was thick...
Sniff
"The air smells great tonight... The trees whisper my name.."
Rustle
"Bridgeville is mine, its blood and tears the lifeblood of my existence.."
The Yokai of Bridgeville Awaits...