The moon hung low, veiled behind dark clouds, casting a somber glow over the Agatoru compound. The faint hum of cicadas filled the night air, blending with the distant rustling of bamboo. It was a quiet night, but an ominous chill had settled—a foreboding presence that none could ignore.
Zami Agatoru sat on the steps of his family's dojo, his silver eyes gazing into the darkness. At just eleven years old, he was already a promising warrior. His father, Juro Agatoru, the clan leader, had trained him personally. Tonight, however, Zami felt uneasy. He couldn't explain it, but the air tasted wrong.
The uneasy stillness was shattered by a scream.
Zami leapt to his feet as the night erupted into chaos. From the shadows, they emerged—twisted, black creatures, their forms barely humanoid. They moved with unnatural fluidity, their viscous bodies glinting under the pale moonlight. Some were small, crawling on four limbs like rabid animals, while others stood tall, their grotesque shapes adorned with jagged, protruding armor-like growths.
"To arms!" his father roared, his voice steady despite the carnage unfolding around them. The warriors of the Agatoru clan rushed forward, their blades gleaming as they met the onslaught head-on. The clash of steel against the creatures' dense, rubbery hides echoed through the compound.
Zami was frozen. His training screamed at him to fight, but his body refused to move. He watched as his family and friends fought valiantly, their techniques honed through years of discipline. But it wasn't enough. The creatures were relentless, their numbers overwhelming. For every one that fell, two more emerged from the shadows.
"Zami!" Juro's voice cut through the chaos. He turned to see his father, bloodied but defiant, cutting through a hulking beast. "Run! Get to the forest!"
"But—"
"Now!" Juro's tone left no room for argument.
Zami hesitated, his heart pounding, before turning and sprinting towards the dense woods. The screams of his clan echoed behind him, growing fainter with every step. Tears streamed down his face as he ran, his chest burning with guilt and helplessness.
Suddenly, a chilling noise stopped him in his tracks—a low, guttural growl, different from the others. He turned slowly, and there it was.
It stood taller than any creature he'd seen, its body grotesque yet oddly symmetrical. Its face—or what resembled one—was obscured by a mask-like growth, its surface etched with symbols that seemed to writhe as Zami stared. Its eyes glowed faintly, burning with an intelligence far beyond the mindless beasts attacking the clan.
Zami's legs refused to move. The creature tilted its head, studying him like a predator sizing up its prey. Before he could react, it lunged, faster than he could comprehend.
And then, pain.
The creature didn't strike him—it entered him. Its viscous form enveloped him, searing his skin and boiling his blood. Zami screamed as his body convulsed, the world around him dissolving into a blinding, white-hot haze.
When he woke, the forest was silent. The creatures were gone, and the Agatoru compound was nothing but smoke and ash in the distance.
Zami stood shakily, his mind reeling. Something had changed. He felt it deep within—a foreign presence, cold and watchful. His reflection in a nearby puddle showed his silver eyes now faintly glimmering, shadowed by dark rings that hadn't been there before.
He was alone.
And something monstrous now lived within him.