Page 50 of The Oni's Heart

We stopped in an alley, shadows swallowing us whole as I crouched beside a rusty dumpster, my eyes trained on the building ahead. I could hear voices, muffled and low, drifting through a small crack in the wall. The Oni stirred inside me, sensing the game ahead, and I knew it was only a matter of time before it would demand to make its presence known.

“Focus,” I repeated, my hand gripping the stone wall beside me as I willed myself to hear what they were saying.

Through the cracks, I caught the low murmur of a few voices—Yakuza, unmistakable by their gruff tones and half-formed words.

“I heard she’s some brat related to the Takehide’s overseas," one voice said, low and cautious.

Related? By blood? Was that why they were after her? Was she a Yakuza princess or something?

The Oni laughed, a low, rumbling sound that seemed to shake my very bones. "Oh, how the plot thickens," he said, savoring the irony. "A hidden past, a secret bloodline, and here we are, tangled in it all." His voice dripped with dark amusement. "You should be grateful, Tatsuya. This drama, this chaos—it’s just the kind of thing to keep things... interesting."

I ignored him.

"Yeah, you didn’t know?” another sneered, probably the new guy. “She’s deeper in than anyone thought. They want her sent overseas in trade for more human shipments. Her name’s already crossed the radar. Supposedly, she’s the key to something. Though how they let her reach Japan still doesn’t make any sense, but what do I know?”

"Shit." The first voice sighed. "Didn’t they say she’s got a half-brother in prison? Some kid that’s tangled up in this mess, too?"

I froze, every muscle in my body going tense. A half-brother? Momoi had never mentioned him. The thought stirred something unsettling within me, but there was more—something else I needed to hear.

"Yeah," the second voice responded. "His name’s Kaito. He's in a high-security prison. Not sure what for, but I heard rumors about him trying to take over some of the family’s operation."

The conversation seemed trivial at first, but there was a pattern forming, threads connecting themselves intricately into a web. I knew where this was headed.

"And the Karura? What do they say about that?" A new voice, deep and jagged, broke through the conversation.

The mention of a Karura froze me. That was no ordinary creature—a legendary warrior of unimaginable power, a deity. The very idea of it made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. If Momoi was truly connected to it, the stakes had just been raised to something far darker and more dangerous than I could have ever imagined.

The Oni inside me immediately reacted—an icy chill raced through my body as if something had sparked within me, the dark memories of old whispers rising from the depths of the past.

I leaned in closer, my heart pounding against my chest. The Karura. I had heard it spoken of before in hushed tones—an ancient symbol tied to power, to bloodlines that were older than time itself. It was more than just a myth.

“What about the dragon?” I whispered under my breath, the words lost to the night. The Karura were known to battle dragons. Their battles were legendary, like fire clashing against the storms of the sea.

But the Oni wasn’t lost. The mention of the Karura and the dragon, a potent combination tied to power, brought the demon to full alert. It was an awakening, a sudden pulse of violence beneath my skin as if my very essence had been set on fire.

"Did you hear about the Karura and the dragon?" one of the Yakuza asked again, his voice low with fascination, yet there was something else—fear.

“Yeah," the other answered, “They say whoever controls the Karura controls the power of the dragon. I don’t know how it all fits with the Takehide, but Momoi's involved in it somehow. She’s the key. I mean, rumor has it that it was a ‘gang war’ that took out the head?—”

My blood ran cold.

The moment their final words hit my ears, I felt the rage surge through me like a lightning strike.

The Oni, hungry and violent as always, reacted without hesitation. He tore through my thoughts with a force that was impossible to ignore. Before I could even attempt to hold him back, he was already in full control.

"Not now, not yet..." I tried to protest, but the Oni didn’t care.

I could feel the muscles in my body stretch and crack as my bones shifted, reshaping into something monstrous. The familiar rush of transformation flooded over me. Skin turning a deep, fiery red, horns breaking through the top of my skull, and those eyes—those eyes burning with a yellow fury.

The Kanabo—a spiked club—appeared in my hands as if summoned by the demon itself, a weapon made of pure fury and hunger. I was no longer Tatsuya. I was a force of nature, a monster born to destroy.

The laughter echoed in my skull, that dark, twisted sound of the Oni enjoying himself, basking in the chaos he had created.

“What fun this will be,” he crooned, his voice stronger than I had ever heard it since this all started.

I wanted to scream, to fight against him, but it was useless. His laughter drowned out my thoughts and my protests. I was helpless to stop him.

I watched, unable to control my own body, as the Oni surged forward, moving with the kind of paranormal predatory speed that only he could possess. The men in front of us never stood a chance. With each swing of the Kanabo, bodies crumpled, bones shattered like brittle twigs. Blood sprayed across the room, staining everything in its wake.

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